Ten years on from Grand Bassam! Grateful for God's protection and Healing.

Ten years ago, on March 13, 2016, I was on the beach with 2 friends in Grand Bassam, Côte d'Ivoire. Terrorists attacked and in a few hours 22 were dead - 19 victims and 3 terrorists. (Wikipedia article) 

My friends and I hid in a small, unfinished room on top of a wall during the gunfire until special forces rescued us. 

I am so grateful to God to everyone who helped us through that time, the first week, months, year, and even beyond.  

When it first happened, I was pretty traumatized. It wasn't until 5th day that I was even able to cry. 

I remember that my body was sore for the first day or two. 

What had happened loomed ahead of me like something I could not get around - even though it was behind me. Would I be able to come "back to life" after what had happened? Would I ever be able to get to 1 month? 6 months? 1 year? It seemed unthinkable that I could arrive at 10 years past this event. 

Week One

Laurel and Cornelia and Csaba and others on center gave us meals. The morning after our office staff supported us while we shared in the office prayer time. Pastor Pierrette drove across town through heavy traffic to pray with me.

We had peer debriefing the first week and that helped. 

Then some Ivoirian colleagues whom I had not met had a special ceremony for us to thank God for the new lease on life he had give us. Read about the Egg Ceremony here. What a blessing these people were to us. I still try to eat a boiled egg each year to remember! 

On the one week anniversary, I went up front and shared briefly and Pastor Soro prayed for me. 
Someone had us over on our center for lunch and I remember I could not keep my eyes of the clock, thinking about the events exactly one week earlier. 

One month

We had a Djimini Bible dedication I think 2 weeks after the attacks. My boss, Nelis van den Berg, and others had told me I should not be working more than half time - which I was not able to do anyway. 
And someone suggested that I did not need to go to the dedication at all and make the "director's speech". Laurel Miller kindly took the speech I had written and read it at the dedication. She also loaned me her hymnal and keyboard and I enjoyed spending that weekend playing hymns and hanging out with Thomas and Baerbel - the 2 friends who lived this with me. We colored Easter Eggs and watched a movie together. 

People shared scriptures. Psalm 124 became central to us. Healing came through verses and songs. It was also in this time frame that I wrote a lament which was very helpful. 

So many of you reached out to say you were praying for us! 

I wrote about this period in a blogpost entitled "Trauma Patchwork"

Second month

Sometime in the second month, I returned to my normal role in Cameroon. I'm grateful to teammates there: Nelis, Bianca, Debbie and Bibi and other friends for welcoming me back, cleaning my place, giving me lots of grace, and listening well. Karen Degraaf got me started with some good resources for dealing with the trauma. 

In the third month, 

I moved to Germany and got used the quiet, peaceful environment to work peace into my soul.  I wrote about that this past december in an advent devotional 

1 year

By the one year anniversary I had survived the insanity that is fireworks on New Year's Eve in Germany. I made it to March 13, and wore my "Yako Bassam" (Sorry Bassam) shirt and had a little egg ceremony to mark one year. 

Life was more or less back to normal and I thought I had healed from this. 

But I attended a retreat right around the 18 month mark where God showed me that I had processed this all mentally, but not emotionally and helped me to walk through it all. 

Read more here: Back to Bassam - the Shack

Years 2- 9

From then on, healing was incremental and life became more and more normal. 
I was still marked by it. 
If you came into my life since that time, and you have had an important part of my life, then I have likely shared the story with you. I know I've shared it in every small group I have been in, every new work team. 

During my first furlough back in the US, I had to share it a lot with people I saw again. That was heavy at times, but also something that God used to minister to others. 

And that has been one of the lessons. God used this horrible thing in my life to make me sensitive to others who have suffered trauma and violence, and to pass on a part of the comfort that he and others shared to me. 

In 2022 and 2023, I first began to get to the point where I could "kind of" enjoy fireworks - usually with noise cancelling headphones and good friends nearby who would understand when I had to go inside. 

In 2025, I actually chose to go downtown to watch fireworks where I would have NO WHERE TO GET AWAY TO if it became too much! 

And now we come to 10 years! 

 Each year I am reminded by the Facebook and photo reminders that come up in the weeks before - from my time in Côte d'Ivoire leading up to the event. I actually had been to the same beach a few weeks earlier and have pictures from that time. 

Perhaps at the 20-year anniversary, this will just be a blip. I might even forget it some years. 

But for now, I am intentional about sitting and remembering where I was, all of you who have walked with me and patiently listened to stories, and how God has brought me to where I am today. I'm grateful for the many people I have met in these 10 years and the extra life that God has given me!

Thank you to each and every one of you! God is good! 

Jesus, be with me in the Boat!

Advent devotional on Peace - for First Baptist Church, Oklahoma City, 2025 

Peace is not just the absence of conflict or war. It’s a positive thing in and of itself, just as rest is more than the absence of work.  Real peace is a state of heart that is positive, a fullness sometimes described as shalom or flourishing. 

As many of you know, I survived an “active shooter” terrorist attack in March of 2016 in the Ivory Coast. The Sunday before that happened, the sermon was on Jesus calming the storm (Luke 8, Mark 4, Matthew 8). Jesus was asleep in the boat, totally at peace, while the storm was raging. The disciples, on the other hand, thought they were going to drown and woke Jesus up. The takeaway from that sermon was that when we face troubles, we are to pray “Jesus, be with me in the boat!” 

One week after that sermon, I found myself up on top of a wall in a dark room with the sound of crashing ocean waves not 50 yards away and the sound of continual gunfire much closer for 90 minutes. I wish I could say that I was tranquilly sleeping as Jesus did - calm and at peace. But I was not. I remembered that sermon and prayed “Jesus, be with me in the boat”. Sometimes all that you have available in crisis are simple prayers. 

Peace did not come to my heart while I was in that room. For the disciples, peace did not come until AFTER Jesus calmed the waves. In my case, we were rescued by some special forces and eventually found our way back home. The immediate danger was gone but peace did not really return to my heart. I left Ivory Coast a few weeks later and returned to Cameroon. There was an absence of trauma, but I wasn’t really at peace - still on edge for the next month or two. 

If you have never lived in an African city, I don’t think you can know the sense of constant noise that one experiences at all times. Your windows are always open. Trucks and motorcycles going by with horns blaring.  There are animals of all sorts - goats, sheep, dogs, cows, birds. There is always someone off in the distance talking loudly. At night, there is music blaring from night clubs. And then at 4:30 a.m. the mosque across the street gives the call to prayer. 

In June 2016, three months or so after the attack, I moved from Cameroon to a small town in Germany to start my next assignment. I had an overnight flight and arrived mid-morning. I was picked up and driven to a guesthouse and had lunch. Then I lay down for a nap. An hour or so later I woke up suddenly - almost startled by the silence.  “What’s that sound? . . . Absolutely nothing!” 

God used that time in Germany for a fresh start and a time to build peace and refreshment into my heart! I spent a lot of time exploring the beautiful paths and bike trails through forests and green meadows. One evening, I crested the hill on a bike ride at sunset and caught this view. It lines up with this verse that I had discovered.  

In advent, we look forward to the coming of Jesus and the Peace that he brings to our lives and to the world. If you are experiencing a storm, ask Jesus to be with you in the boat and trust him to bring calm to the situation and to your heart in his time, because he delights in you!

Forever Marked - By Terror, By Grace, By Community

I wrote this about a month ago for our organization's internal "Community of Grace" blog. 
At the time I meant to post it here as well, but forgot. 

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March 13, 2016 was a day that forever marked me. 

I was enjoying a day off at the beach in Grand Bassam, Côte d’Ivoire with two SIL colleagues when terrorists attacked suddenly, killing 19 over the next few hours. We took refuge in an unfinished hotel room, eventually hiding up on top of a wall. Heavy gunfire rang out constantly for over two hours. Within 50 meters of our hiding place, twelve people lost their lives in the final battle on the beach: 8 civilians, 2 Ivorian Soldiers, and 2 terrorists.

After soldiers rescued us, we made our way back to our center. Frankly, I hadn’t been sure if we’d stay up on the wall all night, or if the terrorists would find us and we’d be home with Jesus that night.

Within hours, the photo at right showed up across the internet and on newscasts around the world.

Then began the long process of healing. In my journal that first week, I wrote that I could not see around this thing that happened to me and wondered to myself if I would ever return fully to life again.

I was in a haze the first few days. On the 5th day, I finally cried - deep sobs.

There were wonderful acts of community to carry me towards healing.

• I told the story to many in person and wrote it up and sent it to close friends by email.
• I skyped family and close friends. They were unsure of how to respond and even process what I was telling them but they listened. 
• Meals were provided.
• The first morning I texted our local advisory committee to say there was no way we could have our meeting that night because I’d been in the attacks. A dear Ivorian sister on the committee dropped everything and drove through heavy traffic to come and pray with me. 
• Work obligations were lifted. As acting director awaiting a replacement in a few weeks, I couldn’t just leave, but was told to work only half days. They also decided that I should NOT go speak at the Bible dedication that week, which was a HUGE burden lifted, though disappointing as well). 

Marked in the "Egg Ceremony"

• Special symbols to mark the occasion. On the 5th day, the Ngwala language committee called me up to their workshop for a special “Egg Ceremony” along with the 2 other victims. They gave us each a boiled egg, to peel and eat right there, but first we were to take a bit of the yolk and mark our forwards, to show that we are forever marked by this experience. The egg itself represented the new life we had been given. The Ngwala do this type of ceremony to mark all near death experiences. We found it it so significant, that each year on the anniversary, we boil eggs and eat them and I light some egg-shaped candles I found.  
• The couple that experienced the attack with me returned home to Germany after 2 weeks. We were already friends, but I was bound together with their family through this event. We check in with each other through the years and on anniversaries. 
• Scripture took on new meaning, especially the imprecatory Psalms. Someone shared Psalm 124 the first week and it became OUR Psalm, as if it had been written just for us. 

I returned home to Cameroon after 3 weeks, thinking that a week off there would be enough to get back to normal. Little did I know that would take several months, and healing would continue over several years. 

Back in Cameroon what I needed most was to tell my story to people. 

• My journal has a list of 10 people I told the story to that week. 
• I didn’t need for them to say anything, just listen as I processed and offer presence. Not everyone could do that, but I was grateful for those who did. 
• I didn’t need them to make sense of what happened for me. I was already grappling with God about that. One well-intentioned person I hardly knew offered that “God must have had a purpose for it”. I really did not need to hear that right then and thankfully a close friend told me to just ignore it. 
• That being said, God did use this experience to allow me to be sensitive to others who’ve experienced trauma and minister to them, but that took time. Two years later on my furlough, I found myself meeting with groups and individuals and sharing the story with them, how God had met me and brought healing. It became an open door to connect with them and open up about their own trials in a way I doubt I’ll ever see again. 

Back at work, I still needed grace

One month after the attacks, I found I could finally work a full day and was okay carrying out simple tasks. But larger tasks overwhelmed me.

At the 2-month mark, I was at our International Conference, sitting in the french interpretation booth. I broke down sobbing while translating someone’s testimony and had to pass the mic to the other interpreter. Thankfully, it was someone who had gone through much trauma of her own and she understood perfectly. 
 

Interpreting into French at our International Conference

After that conference , I moved to Germany and that was a way for God to bring me to a “spacious place”, green and quiet and calm. 

An odd feature I have found going to a new place is that no one knows that I experienced this. I found eventually that with new people, I had to evaluate if they were going to be important in my life, and if so, I’d need to share this with them at some point. I joined a small-group Bible study and it comes up. It’s a terribly awkward sort of “oversharing”, but needs to be done if you’re going to go deep with people. And other times, it’s just not worth it. 

It’s also helpful for friends to know to what my triggers are so they can help me navigate them. For example, on New Year’s Eve we might be enjoying the fireworks, and then suddenly I need to go inside and be away from it all.  

God has continued to bring healing and after 1 year, I thought I had gotten past this. At around the 18-month mark, my team went on a retreat. The first day in a half-day alone, God met me there in a unique way. He helped me work through the feelings I had about the event. (Described here in my personal blog). That evening our team met back together to share the day’s events and I shared it all. It was good to be a safe place where there was grace and understanding and freedom to share. 

I’m truly grateful for the communities of grace that God has put me in to bring healing. Thanks to all of you who are part of those! 

Psalm 139 - ALL the days ordained for me.

Last week in church, the sermon was on Psalm 139. I thought to myself, “Oh, I know this one. I even have it memorized.” So I’m listening as they read it in German, following along with what I know

1 You have searched me, Lord, and you know me.

2 You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.

And it continued, familiar phrases and images to me and you:

Before a word is on my tongue . . . You hem me in behind and before and lay your hand upon me. . . . Where can I go from your Spirit? Rise on the wings of the dawn. . . .Even the darkness will not be dark to you. . . . fearfully and wonderfully made. . . .

Then come those words that are so reassuring to so many:

15 My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.

That is as far as I memorized. How about you?

A few verses later the psalm just kind of plunges off a cliff.

19 If only you, God, would slay the wicked!
Away from me, you who are bloodthirsty!
20 They speak of you with evil intent;
your adversaries misuse your name.
21 Do I not hate those who hate you, Lord,
and abhor those who are in rebellion against you?
22 I have nothing but hatred for them;
I count them my enemies.

As I read, I was suddenly jarred back to my senses. Where did these verses come from? Why didn’t I memorize them back in 1983 with the rest of the psalm? Well, I knew why. Those imprecatory psalms – smite them, Lord – are the ones you skip over as incomprehensible, and I had skipped over this section.

But it’s there, and it really changes the whole tenor of the psalm. This is David on the run, hiding in a cave. Enemies are chasing after him. And he recognizes that wherever he may go, even when fleeing from Saul, he cannot flee from God’s presence. Even when hiding in the darkness, the darkness is not dark to God.

It all came careening home to me. “All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” Taken in context, it’s not just talking about the overarching plan that God has for my life – the big picture. That’s how I always read it.

It’s talking about all the days of my life, 
each and every one of them, 

even the darkest of dark days 5 months ago when I was hiding in a dark cave of a room with Al Qaeda terrorists outside firing away, who would surely have killed me if they had found me.

THAT day – March 13, 2016 – was written in God’s book before I was born. God knew about it. And ordained it.

Why? I’ll never know this side of eternity.

But I do now that He was familiar with my ways. He knew where we had hidden – in that dark unfinished room with no door or window, and coconuts and a tarp.

He hemmed us in behind and before, with his hand upon us.

Even the darkness of that day was not too dark for him. The darkness was as light to him. And we could not flee from his presence.

I am left dumbfounded, like David who said:

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.

The Egg Ceremony

Many of you know that I was involved in a traumatic event two weeks ago along with two colleagues.
It is only by the grace of God that we are alive today.

We received many signs of kindness since then to help us process what we had experienced.

On Friday a week ago, one of the language communities that we are working with, the Nghwla (Mbatto) held a special "Egg Ceremony" for us, something they do for people who have narrowly escaped death.

We were each given a hard boiled egg.

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I held the egg in my hand thoughtfully as she explained that it represents the new life we have been given. 

What ceremony happens without ritual phrases?  In this case, "Here is your white chicken without feathers" (egg). This was said first in French, but then in Nghwla.  There may be some significance to it that escapes me. 

As you might imagine, the next step was to shell the egg and eat it, or should I say "partake".

But we also had to take a bit of the yolk and smear it on our foreheads. A sign, I suppose, that we had been marked by this event, forever changed. 

First time I have ever had "egg on my face" and been glad about it.

The final bit of the ceremony was the gift of a second, raw egg, to take home and cook. 

I had mine for lunch. Since I wanted an omelette, I added it to an egg I had had in the fridge from before - and that seemed strangely appropriate, mixing the life before with the new life after. 

This was truly a remarkable gift that was given to us, to help us process and mark this important passage. 

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How interesting that God would use something from the richness of another culture to minister to me, to fill a slot that we don't even know is missing in our culture. 

Ceremonies and rituals are interesting, aren't they? 

There are commonalities from culture to culture. They may differ in form, but they exist for similar things: births, name givings, rites of passage, religious initiation, dedication and inaugurations, weddings, funerals. 

There are always others present to witness it. You can't have a ceremony by yourself. 

And there are always words said in formulaic ways. If you get those wrong, it will have to be redone.

But isn't it wonderful that there are also physical elements present, symbols to tie what is happening relationally and spiritually to our physical existence, to make it memorable. 

• Colors: White wedding dresses, black clothes at funerals, red and green at Christmas, pastel purples and Yellows and pinks at Easter.
• Sounds: Bells, choirs, music, dancing
• Clothes: coordinated, and colorful and out of the ordinary. 
• Symbols: rings, lighting of candles,  water, wine, bread, oil or ashes on the forehead  or egg,
• Physical contact and actions: water of baptism, cutting of hair, holding hands, partaking wine or bread or egg

The symbols will be different from culture to culture, but in every case, it's not enough to just be together and say the right things without the other symbolic and physical elements. You can't have Eucharist or communion without partaking some sort of bread and either wine or juice. You can't have a wedding without a ring.

God plants our spirits and souls into bodies. And we have ceremonies and rituals to help ground important events into our physical existence. 

We were debriefed last week after our trauma and they told us that our mind, spirit and emotions would need time to process everything that would be out of sync with our bodies,  which were physically fine but our brains did not know it yet. As a result, we experience various physical symptoms that reflect our emotional distress. 

Thanks to God for helping people to create ceremonies to join the spiritual to the physical, and to the Nghwla for sharing their ceremony with us!