This story touched me, especially since I’ve been reliving my experiences in Nepal on this blog.  I hope you enjoy this 4-min video.  We have so much to offer each other regardless of race, language, religion, or geography.

The Last Pure Pygmy and His Gift from Speaking of Faith on Vimeo.

I have seen a goddess.  And now she is gone, vanished behind stacks of clouds.  Other peaks come and go in the billowing mist, but I watch them without seeing.  My pupils focus inward again and again, straining to see the twisting ridges of Machapuchre, her vaporous after-image burned on my retina. Looking back, it’s hard to believe the horror I would confront this very same morning, not on the horizon, but at my feet.

After breakfasting on boiled eggs, fried cornbread, and wild honey, we set out for Pohtana.  I am not happy about making Pohtana our destination for the day because it is only an hour and a half up the trail.  We are short on time and I want to get higher, farther, faster.  Our guide, J.V., normally leads three-week-long treks that require slow acclimatization to altitude.  But, due to my busy residency schedule at the hospital, we have only four days.  Despite my pleas, J.V. will make no exception to the rules of acclimatization.

We slug forward.

After forty minutes of steep climbing we stop at what looks like any other pleasant resting place along the trail–with flat grass, smooth boulders to sit on, and small rocks for foot stools.  A cool brook babbles nearby and the ground is only mildly spongy.  There is no hint of the squirming hell that lurks beneath the mossy turf.

Sitting comfortably on a stone, I remove my boots and spread my toes, messaging the balls of my feet.

In my peripheral vision, the grass appears to move, like a shag carpet fingering the air in a breeze. But there is no breeze.  Something is off.  I can’t put my finger on it.

I squint and look closer.  The patch of ground at my feet darkens, like an expanding blot of ink. The margins of it are hairy and wriggling.  It expands unevenly, almost spastically, like a hoard of arthritic fingers ratcheting toward me.  I feel a needling rush cascade down my spine, corkscrewing the hairs on my neck into quivering spikes.  Something primal in me screams and I grab my boots, cram them onto my feet, and jump up without bothering with the laces.

But I am too late.  An undulating mass surrounds me and fear and fascination hijack my nervous system.  I am rooted to the spot.

With curled lips and wide eyes, I watch as a knot of spaghetti-like creatures crawls up my bootlaces.  Caterpillars, I wonder?  No, these move too fast.

They spring like grasshoppers up my ankles, making a bee-line for the warm regions of my socks.  They surge over me like barbarians over a Roman wall.  I feel a pulling sensation as small weights accumulate on my calves.

Dear Lord.  I’m sinking into living quicksand.

“Leeeeches!”,  J.V. screams.

Like a key, the word unlocks me. Leeches. Of course!  But these are nothing like the leeches that cling to rocks in American lakes.  As J. D. Hooker writes in his Himalayan Journals of 1854, “Leeches swarmed with incredible profusion… they got into my hair, hung from my eyelids and crawled up my back.”

Suddenly, I dance and shake as if I am on fire.  Dad and J.V. do the same.  With flicks and flings and curses, we hop and zig-zag away from the marshland as quickly as possible.  We behave as if we have stumbled into a hornet’s nest.  Our eyes are wild and unfocused.  Our nostrils flare like snouts of horses at a derby.  After fifty yards of flailing, we turn around abruptly and stare back at the marsh, breathing hard, trembling with nervous energy.

“What the !@#$!” I gasp.

Even Dad, normally so cool under pressure, looks disheveled and unnerved.  J.V. simply collapses into a pile of loose limbs, saying nothing.

Haemadipsids–or Land Leeches–are a nasty slice of Nepal’s biodiversity.  This is what I learned in my research after I returned safely to U.S. soil:

“They drop from trees on men and animals and creep through all the openings in one’s clothes, even the eyelets of one’s shoes.  If one tears them off, one loses more blood than if one lets them drink their fill, when they fall off by themselves.  Some of the valleys are infested to such a degree by leeches that one simply cannot protect oneself against them.  The best way of keeping them out is by wearing socks and trousers steeped in salt,” (Heinrich Harrer, 7 Years in Tibet).

These annelids evoke both horror and fascination in me.  They are terrestrial blood-feeding worms of unusual stealth and speed–with an equally unusual biogeographic distribution; found only in the Indian subcontinent, Southeast Asia, Australia, Melanesia, Madagascar, and the Seychelles.  All other leech families are aquatic and have a global distribution. Haemadipsids (from the Greek word Haematodipsia, meaning “a sexual thirst for blood”) are only about 2 inches long, but what they lack in size they make up for in numbers.

“…they swarm in myriads in every wood… it is impossible to take a single step without being attacked… they are on every bush and tree, from which they drop on the head and neck of the passer-by,” (Haekel, 1883 — A Visit to Ceylon).

And if I had read the following sentence before venturing out, I would have searched the world over for a pair of Teflon underwear:

“I counted no fewer than ninety-seven of them on my body, most of them concentrated round my private parts!” (Campbell, 1953 — Jungle Green).

Thankfully, I fare much better than any of these early explorers.  After a meticulous body check, I find not a single leech has gotten its slurping kisser into my skin.

Thank God for small miracles.

To be continued…

Monte and Kari Cheney are returning to Central Oregon after serving at Asia-Pacific International University (formerly Mission College) in Thailand for four years.  While there, Monte taught mathematics in the international program and served as dean of men in Elijah Hall.  Kari homeschooled their four children, Kelsie (13), Nate (11), Colin (9), and Ryan (7) as well as teaching Sabbath School, ministered to the stomachs and hearts of various student populations, and helped to edit stories and other documents for the  Hope4BKK church-planting project in Bangkok.  They first moved to Bend in 1998 when Kelsie was 2.

ConneXions Class 7/24/10:  The Life of Jesus

Facilitator:  Marc

9:30 AM, Classroom A, Bend SDA Church.

“What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing about us.  The history of mankind will probably show that no people has ever risen above its religion and that man’s spiritual history will positively demonstrate that no religion has ever been greater than its idea of God. For this reason the gravest question before the church is always God and the most portentous fact about any man is not what he at any given time may say or do but what he, in his deep heart, conceives God to be like.  We tend, by a secret law of the soul, to move toward our mental image of God.”

– A.W. Tozer, The Knowledge of the Holy

“If you have seen me you have seen the Father…”

What advantage, if any, does the Christian have in forming a kinder, gentler definition of success than the one society has given us?

Matt comes to us from Milo Adventist Academy, where he teaches computer technology and math.

Matt began piano lessons when he was only seven years old. He won first place in the Dutchland Keyboard Competition in Pennsylvania (age 9) and was privileged to play Vladimir Horowitz’s piano in the rotunda building at Harrisburg, Pennsylvania soon after. When Matt began high school, he began singing in a variety of choral groups, thus developing his singing voice. In college, Matt continued to sing and also took numerous music courses, thus developing and preparing him for his work in music today.

During his third year of college at Southern (age 20), Matt had a very powerful experience in which God changed and even saved his life. He now spends much of his time as a performer, songwriter, and recording artist. Matt has discovered that being around people and sharing music is his calling. Some of his other hobbies include computers, entertainment (TV/movies), games, literature, music, relationships, religion, sports, and technology. We welcome Matt, his wife Cindy, and children Kayla and Kirk.

After the Apostle Peter preached on the day of Pentecost, people “were cut to the heart and said….’Brothers, what shall we do? Acts 2:37

What shall you do?

Downsize your home to to give to the needy? Quit your job and go to the mission field in another country? Love your neighbor as yourself (yes the one with the noisy kids and unkempt yard)?

What…shall…you…do?

Oswald Chambers writes in “My Utmost for His Highest”. “Never make a principle of your experience; let God be as original with other people as he is with you.”

We have a God who is a Creator, not a duplicator. Paul tells us,

There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit. There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. There are different kinds of working, but the same God works all of them in men. Now to each one the manifestation of the Spirit is given for the common good.
I Corinthians 12:4-7

Come to discuss, dialog and  discern what God is saying to your heart and mind.

Watch and discuss Revolutionary Love by Tony Compolo

Facilitator:  Laura Silva

See you there!

Knowing God’s Will from :redux on Vimeo.