Wait for God to Notice

Sari Fordham’s Waiting for God to Notice blew me away. This book is lyrical and poetic. The story itself is so intriguing, and the author’s ability to tell it is beyond skillful. This book is so incredibly rich in place—Uganda—and the family bonds and experiences the author describes are gripping, urgent, and engaging.<br /><br />I felt as if I traveled with the narrator and her family, and experienced their adventures first hand. I could feel every moment in such a visceral way. The title and cover are among my very favorites, and the writing is pure music. I read this book in one blissful day. I am amazed by the journey this family took—I admire the grit, humanity, and authenticity of these characters, and I thank Sari Fordham for letting me into her world. I can’t wait to read her next work of art.<br />

Wait for God to Notice is author Sari (rhymes with Mary) Fordman's poignant love story about her family and a land far away—Uganda. Her parents, Kaarina (who is Finnish) and Gary (American) Fordham, are Seventh Day Adventist missionaries sent to Africa for six years during the terror reign of Idi Amin. They bring along their two daughters, Sonja, 5, and Sari, 2.<br /><br />Twenty years later, while perusing letters written by her now-deceased mother, an avid letter-writer, a grown up Fordham reflects on her childhood spent in Uganda, and how her parents—and by osmosis, their daughters—adapted to the unfamiliar environment. Fordham knits together a heartrending story of familial connections that root her to her heritage from both parents and extended family in Finland and America; and passion that bonds her to Ugandan people, lifestyle, wildlife, and fantastic landscape of perpetual green. There was life all around, and Fordham relishes in fascination at what she saw right outside the door in the constant sweltering heat: a real jungle, lush and thriving, waiting to be explored by adventuresome, fearless children. There were monkeys, civet cats, mongooses, black mambas, and the persistent driver ants.<br /><br />Swarms of carnivorous driver ants invaded their little “home on the hill” on their first night in Bugema, Uganda. Driver ants “can eat through a trapped hen, leaving bones as clean as porcelain,” explained Fordham. Yet her parents observed more in wonder than fear as the six-inch-wide column streamed from their bedroom and into toddler Sari's bedroom. That sense of fearless wonder permeates throughout the many adventures Fordham relates in her book.<br /><br />Through contemplative reflection, Fordham becomes a keen observer of settings and personalities, especially that of her mother, Kaarina. Before Uganda, Kaarina considered herself as matter-of-fact, practical, confident, determined and driven. But speaking of her, Fordham says, “Ever since she arrived in Uganda, she had been overwhelmed by her incompetence. This must have surprised her.”<br /><br />In spite of this, Fordham comes to see her mother as one who never flinched in the face of fearsome encounters, be they jungle creatures or the jungle guerillas of Idi Amin. She always stood her ground, protecting her own. From this, Fordham comes to see the sheer bravery and resilient competence exuded from her mother. She could handle anything tossed her way.<br /><br />Fordham's memoir reads like a beautiful melodic love poem, a river sweetly laced with the passage of time, ripe with imagery, unexpected changes, and meditative insight. Hers is a story of magical wonder in a foreign land, a sense of belonging to her family and to the shifting lands she inhabits—whether in Finland, America, or Uganda. Reading her memoir is a journey into a young girl's life as she interprets the world around her and matures into an inquisitive young woman, full of hope, full of questions, and most importantly, full of familial love.<br /><br />I didn't want her story to end. Neither will you.<br /><br />Story Circle Book Reviews thanks Paula Robertson for this review.

Wanting to love a book brings with it a fear of not liking it enough, or even at all. But as I finished the last page of Fordham's memoir, how much I did love it surpassed what I had wanted.<br /><br />I felt spoken to for I was once a child who, like Fordham, grew up in a far-away place. I was born in the US of immigrant parents who took me overseas before my first birthday. I later lived in East Africa as a just-married (but barely) adult person, so the writer's summoning of red dirt, lush vegetation, and geo-specific wildlife in the context of mission service hummed me back in time.<br /><br />However, these parallels are not requisite for delighting in <a href="https://goodreads.com/book/show/51132316.Wait_for_God_to_Notice" title="Wait for God to Notice by Sari Fordham" rel="noopener">Wait for God to Notice</a>. If you appreciate personal essay, memory, word craft, and generous honesty simply told, you too are the intended reader and will find here a deeply satisfying read.<br /><br />Sadness comes with loving a book: as a reader there is the sadness that comes when finishing it; as a writer there is the sadness that comes when the writing is fine, the voice singular and winsome. As I read, I wondered why I try to write at all. But now I hope that some of Fordham's warmth, wisdom, and courage will stay with and inform me when next I gather the wisps of my memories and weave them into words.

This was a buddy read. . . .and hence something that wouldn't have landed on my shelves without the gentle adherence to buddy rules, and I'm glad it happened, because it took me somewhere I never would have gone on my own!<br /><br />A Seventh Day Adventist family, devout and passionate in their missionary efforts, offer themselves up to a mission that many families who, when offered, turned and ran. No running for this author's family - for when you read of the two little girls in this book, the littlest is the author who is living her life and will remember later and tell you all about it. About monkeys who stole her mother's hard won just fruited tomato plants, temptation itself in the mangos hanging all about their missionary house on the hill - white people isolated so everyone could keep track of them. About military - scary military - Idi Amin's military who disappeared people with an expertise of terrifying suddenness and stealth. And avocados - they had so many they came to hate them. ?How can anyone not love avocadoes? Baffles the mind. They even met the man. Idi, I mean.<br /><br />But the story really is about their family - their Dad who's off proselyting and serving others, and Mom who mans the hilltop and keeps her little girls safe from snakes, spiders and things that drop from the trees. She pushes back when the army stops by and decides they'd like to have her silverware. She thinks not. <br /><br />All that said, I must admit, my favorite part was when they landed back in the US, safe and sound. I come from a missionary sending tradition, and can tell you for certain a mother never really sleeps well until the missionaries return. I'm only a reader of this sweet family's real life adventures, but I've gotta say, knowing they made it back was a relief. <br /><br />If you want something completely different. . . .pick this one up. I kindled, and my notes are included.

This beautiful memoir explores the life of the author, Sari, as a missionary kid growing up in Uganda. You do not need to have this experience to enjoy this beautifully written book, from a very turbulent time in history. Since I am a former missionary kid myself, it did hold extra meaning. If you are a child growing up in a family in the field, well, your needs come after the people your parents are supposed to help and always, always, after God. I am not sure what the Adventists were thinking, sending any family to a country governed by such a volatile dictator at the time.<br /><br />Not only was Uganda unsafe, the most basic things in life were scarce on non-existing: such as enough food, clothes and even soap. This family, half Finnish, was in the field in some concurrence with my own. I wonder whether the people who then sent soap, clothes and shoes from Finland to us in Thailand thought we were in the same situation, and having heard of the Fordhams? It's quite likely, I will have to ask. Thailand was safe by comparison, even despite regular coups and guerilla fighting along the border. The world is full of wars and conflict that don't make the media.<br /><br />Sari tells of the trials and tribulations, and how she and her sister Sonja grew up in Uganda and considered it home. The smell of the earth and the jungle, the snakes that were everywhere, the song birds and monkeys. She also tells of moving back to the United States, to Texas, and how completely out of place she and her sister were to start with. This is the story nobody tells and most never consider. If you are a child of parents with nationality X and grow up in country Y (W, Z), you will invariably be out of place when they return to their home country with you. Talk about being a flamingo among pigeons. Sari and her sister adapted - but they too moved around as adults, as the nomad you often become, having had to make home in yourself rather than in some external capacity. <br /><br />No adults in my vicinity every took any consideration to the fact that I had such an unusual childhood. They did not consider the fact that I was moved back and forth between continents, I lost and gained languages and friends - it was just taken for granted that I would adapt and be happy. Of course, like Sari, I am grateful for the experiences and I would not trade my childhood for anyone else's because I have no idea who I would be then. If I had never waited for the monsoon to arrive, never seen what was parched desert explode into jungle, never fished for crabs and gubbies in the nearest brook. Never had a friend whose father was shot for being in the wrong place, never seen people lost to drugs, never seen children barefoot in rags, never lost my childhood languages or friends. <br /><br />Read this book and let Sari take you through her early years and her adaptation to life in the west. Read about her mother's struggles to compromise between her husband's dreams and the lives of her children. It's well worth it.

I was fortunate enough to read an advanced review copy of this memoir. From the first page, I was completely captivated. Seriously, I could not put it down. This is a truly self-reflective and riveting story of the legacy of colonization and the dangers of misguided good intentions, but above all it is the story of a person finding herself and her mother, and coming to understand their identities against a backdrop of conflicting narratives and secrets. I highly recommend this beautiful and moving book.

“My parents do not try to make connections between what has happened and what could happen. They do not see the ants as a warning, that peril can slip through the smallest of openings ... that we should pack up and leave. Nor do they see my escape as a miracle ... They are not seeking metaphor or prophecy. They are too practical."<br />*<br />I'm so grateful to have read an early copy of Sari Fordham's generous, suspenseful memoir about her childhood living with Seventh-day Adventist missionary parents in Uganda. Since Fordham and her family were in Uganda during the time of Idi Amin, there were many instances where her family -- even as visitors who experienced certain protections -- faced heart-stoppingly dangerous situations. Nature, too, could be dangerous. The book opens with a parade of dangerous driver ants crawling across Fordham's bed while she sleeps peacefully, unaware.<br />*<br />And yet, the overwhelming impression I was left with is comfort and courage. The obvious love between family members is so deftly drawn that I almost feel like I was an honorary part of their family. Fordham is also respectful and thoughtful about her family's role as missionaries, and how complex that can be: how many stories about Africa have been told from the perspective of those who aren't from there. She's always acknowledging and thinking about that, and her genuine respect for Uganda shines through.<br />*<br />I left organized religion behind when I was younger, and still grapple with how to reconcile some of the aspects of religion that I don't love with the aspects that are beautiful. Fordham is contemplative and thoughtful and sometimes gently tongue-in-cheek about her beliefs. It feels like a gift to get a glimpse into the mind of someone who lives her religion with an open heart and mind. I never once felt overlooked as a non-religious person, and actually came away with a deeper understanding of my own religious background. In case it’s not obvious, I highly recommend this beautiful memoir.

I wasn't prepared for just how brilliant and fascinating this memoir proved to be. It's wise and unflinching in its probing of the personal and political, the secular and religious. Luscious in its vivid prose; and striking in its people, honesty, compassion, family dynamics, wry humor, and transportative powers. What a terrific, moving tribute to a mother, father, sister, and the many selves. What an ode and lament to a time, place, and institution that capture the worst and best of humanity.

This was an interesting memoir of the author's childhood in Africa (Uganda) and I gave it 4 stars simply because I am fascinated by the type of life portrayed. Would have liked the chapters to have years/dates inserted, there was a bit of skipping around instead of a straightforward chronology of events. Even after reading about their faith, it was hard for me to fathom the Adventists' strong beliefs and missionary goals.

Rich imagery and flowing prose underscores this tribute to Sari Fordham’s mother, who nurtured and protected her family during a six-year missionary trip to Uganda during its historic “reign of terror”. Fordham describes her childhood with a vibrancy that brings her past once again to life. A beautiful and original book.