Saying Yes

Once again, I apologize for the lack of postage. When life seems "normal", it's hard to remember to blog about it. But here is just a blurb of what has been on my mind as of late...

With less than 50 days left, my brain feels like scrambled eggs anytime I think about what comes next. I so badly want to know, to plan, to prepare. I have wishes and desires, big dreams and small ones, but I just want to be told which ones are coming next. However, God hasn't been doing that.

I'm learning what it means to follow. I thought I knew. I thought I knew how to say yes to God's call. But in fact I am an amateur. Sure I'm here, but He made this Act I very clear. Act II isn't even coming in scenes, but in single lines. I know I want to see the end of the show, to be a part of it, but He hasn't given me the rest of the plot, He's just asked me to act. So I'm learning what yes looks like. I'm learning how to accept the role before knowing the part. Like Abraham, I know God is calling me to something awesome, but He hasn't given it a name. It's simply "the place I will show you." 

Clarity hasn't come. Ideas have, but concrete answers are eluding me. So I'm just saying yes. Wherever He brings me, I'm saying yes. Instead of looking down the corridor and asking for all 5 doors to be swinging wide, I'm in the hallway, knowing that there are more doors, but waiting for the very first one to open. And hopefully I can learn to be content with that.

An Unusual Morning: Round 2

Today is Worker's Day, the equivalance of Labor Day in the US. So having the day "off", a few of us volunteers decided to switch up our normal routine and do some painting. We are in the process of getting new, more secure fences up around campus, but first they must all be painted. Twice. We have a lot to do. So Terp, Brittany, one of our office workers, and myself were all working together to make a little more ground on the task. These fences are called Devil's Forks...and rightfully so.

As Terp and I moved some panels to make room for our finished ones, The prong of the devils fork caught my shoe. Hearing the rip, my first thought was, "Oh shoot. My Converse!" 

Then I notice it had gone through my sock as well. It had hurt, and I saw a small spot of blood on my sock, however I thought I had just broken some skin. But to be sure, I took off the shoe, took of the sock, and I beheld a very gruesome sight. A cut, one inch long, and close to half as wide marked my foot with a puddle of blood to give it some color. I wasn't so concerned about my shoes anymore...

I walked very slowly back to my house, had Terp clean up some of the blood, and then decided after a little bit of debate that I would need stitches. So just before noon, we headed to Maseru Private, right around the corner. The staff was so great and light hearted. The doctor said, "Well, I am going now to get a saw. We will need to cut the foot. I will be right back." Hahah! I also got scolded for not wearing boots...woops. But after the sting of the antiseptic and the endless poking of the numbing needle, I watched them sew me back up! Terp and I also got to watch a little TV! Haven't done that in a while! 

And I can't help but show the picture before the stitches... Sorry if this grosses you out.

I'm home and quite fine. But shoots! What a week of new experiences it has been! From bowing emus, kudu chili, and my first time getting stitches. What can I say? This is Africa.

An Unusual Morning

Life has been just life lately. Sometimes I am at a loss of what to write because everything feels so normal. However, I do have a rather funny experience to share!

My housemate Brittany and I went for a little getaway this weekend to just relax and recharge. We went to a small game park in South Africa called Templehof where they have baby lions to hold! So fun! On Saturday night, we went to bed early so we could watch the sunrise over the beautiful South African mountains. We went to the balcony of the lodge but couldn't see much, so we went down to a small play area on the swing set. It wasn't long before the emus came... We knew them to have a poor sense of personal space, so as they started getting closer we didn't think much of it. We were told they were more afraid of us than we are of them. But how the tables turned...

Soon they were far too close for comfort, and despite our attempts to shoo them away, they continued to come closer. Much much closer. Now but three feet away, Brittany found refuge on the top of the  merry-go-round while I stood atop a swing, hoping our height would add some intimidation. Brittany was safe, but the two emus got closer and closer to me, my heart beating faster and faster. But then, the strangest thing happened... The one closest to me began to crouch. I don't think emus can jump, but it sure looked like he was ready to pounce! But the other one followed suit. So there I stood on the swing, two emus kneeling in front of me, still way too close for comfort, but there they sat. One inched closer while the other came around the back side of me. I had this great fear that they were ganging up  on me and were gonna start hammering away at my flesh any minute. They didn't peck, but they began bumping me with their necks and faces while I pleaded for Brittany to do something. As one began fluffing his feathers, Brittany hopped down from her perch, successfully shooing them away enough for me to get to a higher spot. As we stood there puzzled by what we just saw, one emu walked away. The other, however, kept his eye on us, feathers fluffed, and very slowly circling our jungle gym of refuge. I did my best to enjoy the sunrise, but I had a hard time slowing down my heart after thinking I was going to be pecked to death. The light stretched across the sky, the emu was far enough away for us to make an escape, and we quickly relinquished to our cozy rondavel by the lion cage. My heart restored to its normal pace as I enjoyed a rusk and a cup of tea. 

We found out at breakfast that the kneeling was actually a sign of respect. They said they were welcoming me and saw me as an authority. What!? Though this may be true, I have decided that I do not like emus, despite how much they seem to like me. But hey, I'm in the animal kingdom club now! I've got birds bowing to me! 

An Overdue Update

Hello! Hi. This is long overdue. Sorry.

These past few weeks have been such a whirlwind! Since my last post, a team of 21 came from my church which included my parents and boyfriend. It was such a blessing to have them here to experience life as I have been living it. Though it was overwhelming at times to have my two worlds collide, it was also so beautiful to see them understanding why I love it here so much. I know this post will not do it justice, but time is limited and there are too many words to be written.

They came on the 29th and it was such a joyous reunion. My mom got to work with me in my house, and my dad and Brooks also got opportunity to pop in on my "normal" life, as well as help out on campus and at Beautiful Gardens. We were able to see a bit more of the country on day trips and evening getaways, and those moments were so refreshing. To end the week, I joined the team for a two day safari in South Africa. Let me tell you, it was incredible! Though we didn't see everything we were hoping to, I loved soaking in all of God's creativity and handiwork. Even just the landscape around us was enough to cause awe. They left on the 7th, and though it was difficult to have to say goodbye again, it also marked me being half way! Hokey toots! I had a lot of fear that when they left I would feel very alone, but I was pleased to find out that instead I felt very encouraged. A member of the team said something that really lightened my spirit. I feel silly for not being able to remember what it was, but whatever she said replaced fear with a great sense of calm and hope in the fact that I now have an even bigger cloud of witnesses who understand and can support me. The first few days were still a bit lonely and quiet, but The Lord blessed me with such deep joy in my work here. I wish I had time to write more. Though the week was crazy, it was also such a gift to have the three people I love most experience my day to day life.

Another big event became two. The last Friday that the Haven team was here, we said goodbye to two of our precious children. Their sister called and said she was coming to pick them up, so just as soon as she called, they were taken away. This was such a hard departure for so many. For Brittany (one of my housemates) and I, it meant two less kids in the soft play room where we work in the morning. We had really been working hard with these two to reach their milestones as they are quite behind, so we had really bonded with them. For their housemother, it meant saying goodbye to her children. And for so many others on campus, it was a day of heartache, for the nature of their departure was uncertain and not very hopeful. However, now the event has become two! A week later, we received calls from their neighborhood that they were not being looked after well, so our social worker brought them back home, and home it truly is. They adjusted very easily back into life at Beautiful Gate, and though we grieve whatever they must have experienced in that week away, we rejoice in knowing that this is not defeat. God has brought them back to good hands, and now they will be on their way through the adoption process! The sorrow of the goodbyes made the joy of the hellos even greater, and I praise our Lord for His mighty plan.

Life otherwise has just been life. There are beautiful moments of joy, moments of exhaustion, moments of sorrow, but above all else, each moment is a moment of grace. For this reason we praise. I am so excited to take time during this Holy Week to just spend with my savior, and I hope you can find the time to do the same. As my kids so enthusiastically say, "God is good, all the time! All the time, God is good!"

Reality

This week has been an interesting one...

The reality of what this place is hit me hard. So hard, in fact, that my body began shutting down because of the emotional stress. For two days I just slept. I didn't have energy to do anything else. I had so much tension in my back, and my stomach was upset all week. I had it at least 10 times where I was sure I was going to throw up, yet nothing happened. 

Starting Sunday evening, my mind and heart began wrestling with my role here. And very quickly, I began a grieving process that I wasn't expecting.

The obvious grief was over the fact that the children even have to be here, that this place, and so many others like it, have to exist. But this wasn't what really hit me hardest. I know this to be a place of hope. God's hand is so evident, and it is clear that the children are not short of love by any means.

The grief that has been consuming me is for the parents who are missing so much joy in their children's lives, and grieving over whatever got them to the place to let their children go. I don't understand the kind of desperation that causes one to abandon their child, so I cannot be angry with them. But my heart grieves that my role is necessary, that I am the one feeding these beautiful children, I am the one to witness their first steps, I am the one to sing them songs, give them goodnight kisses, and delight in their innocent laughter. These are things of unexplainable joy, but I wish so badly that their parents could see. I wish they knew what precious jewels their children are becoming. I grieve the outrageous beauty they are missing. 

With each moment of sweet joy that came this week (and they were endless), there came an aftertaste of bitter grief. I don't know how to explain this feeling well, but it is as if I have been given somebody else's gift. I know I should feel blessed to witness all these phenomenal moments, but instead I feel like I have peaked into someone else's present, one they will never get to enjoy. And that sucks. My heart and mind are feeling very jumbled. I wish I could express this better. My week wasn't bad. I wasn't in tears at every moment, I wasn't on the verge of a meltdown all the time. But my heart became so heavy. I had such a hard time accepting the moments of joy because I knew they should belong to someone else.

So after almost three months of being here, my heart has finally broken, and I'm honestly not sure that this is fixable. "Break my heart for what breaks yours." It's a prayer I have said in the past, and it has certainly been answered. I don't know what moving forward looks like from this point on. I know this is part of God's redemptive plan, and I know He is a God of restoration and healing. So I don't think I will be in an eternal state of grieving, but I think God has broken my heart for good.

Still I know there is hope. I know He is working out all things for the good of those who love Him. I know He will gather His children from the east and the west, and I know He has His hand around all these parents as well. I may never get to see how it works out in the end, but I have confident hope in the story Ntate Molimo is writing (N-tah-tee Mo-dee-mo: sesotho for Father God). So I will praise Him through each heart breaking moment, rejoicing in His perfect plan.

(And to all parents who may be reading this, please don't take your children for granted. They radiate so much beauty. I know 63 children whose parents are missing that. I would hate for you to miss it too.)

Kids: Joy, Sadness, Innocence

I had three distinct experiences with kids this weekend. One of holy joy, one of deep sadness, and one of pure innocence.

My moment of joy was on Friday. One of "my" boys was adopted to Sweden, and though each adoption is a beautiful story, it is a little more meaningful when you have had the pleasure of being one of the child's fill-in moms for two and a half months. My boy is sweet and forgiving, timid and silly, cuddly and hungry. He loves kisses, he knows what he wants, and he is a child of repetition. So on Friday when we all filed into the chapel to celebrate this beautiful union, my heart was especially joyful to see one of my kids be given a forever family. I did my best to keep in the tears, but I quickly melted into a little puddle when, near the beginning of the ceremony, he hopped off the couch by his mom and came searching for me to give me a final hug and kiss. Though not in school yet, he understood fully what was happening, and I was ruined by this sweet act. My cheeks remained tear stained for the remainder of the ceremony, and my heart was filled to the brim with such a holy joy that can only come from the witnessing of God's redemption story being played out before you. His mother came up to me later and said, "I can see that he really loves you, and I can see that you love him too. But please, tell me why." So with pride in my heart and a lump in my throat, I told her all the reasons I loved her son as I watched her eyes twinkle at the gift she had been given. Oh my friends. Words cannot even explain the magnificence of seeing a mother be given the child she had been praying for, of seeing a child be given the mother he had been longing for. I know I was only two and a half months of his life, and I know I was not anywhere near being his mother, but I have such pride, hope, joy, and love for him. What a beautiful moment to cherish. 

My moment of sadness came this afternoon. I know I will fail miserably at explaining the depth of my emotions, but I will do my best. Most of the time, the kids just seem like kids. They play like kids, laugh like kids, cry like kids, eat like kids... But every once in awhile, you get a tiny glimmer of the weight of their past. Today, I was dragged around the playground by one of "my" girls. Our time was full of giggles and silliness, and a sweet moment of just gazing in awe of each others' differences. However, when it was time for me to head back up the hill and go home, the sweet lightness of her face quickly dissipated into the look I hate most here at Beautiful Gate: abandonment. I stood up and said goodbye, and her eyes filled with tears. I thought at first that she just wanted to play longer, but when I looked into her eyes again, there were more than just tears there. Fear had settled in as well. I kneeled down in front of her and took her small hands in mine, assuring her that I would be back in the morning to give her breakfast before she went to school. But no matter how much I tried to give her confidence of my return, she continued to shake her head, not wanting to be left. Finally I just had to leave as she cried and took a few steps after me. I waved and blew a kiss, and through tears, she gave the most heartbreaking blow of a kiss back, one that truly looked like a final goodbye. What a stark difference to the sweet hug and kiss I had received on Friday.

My moment of pure innocence came shortly after, and was gladly welcomed. I had settled onto a big sleeping bag in the sun, rolled up like a burrito, when Mercy (the director's youngest child) rolled up next to me in a smaller blanket. We giggled about how we looked like tacos, and our conversation took flight. We covered everything from our favorite colors, the depth of a tree's roots, the recipe for a perfect rainy night (pizza, a movie, and green caramel popcorn), all the way to discussing which was really home, America or Africa. As we lay there, faces close, I soaked in her innocence and honesty. She was unafraid to ask questions, unafraid to answer. She was curious and thoughtful, and she was eager to share her silly jokes with me. She didn't want to be talked down to because she was young, she just wanted to talk. It was such a moment of peace, and in a way I can't explain, a moment of restoration. We simply thought about life together, and I had the privilege of seeing the world through her innocent eyes.

These instances don't flow together in some poetic fashion, except to show you the breadth of emotions experienced here. There is joy unexplainable, despised sorrow, and restorative peace in a matter of a weekend, along with all the other little feelings thrown in as well. I don't have a big point to share, no revelation from these moments. But it's a view of the rollar coaster this journey is and has been. Praise God for His faithful, constant, and ever-loving presence in our lives!

Rainy Season

Rain.

It is often thought of as life-giving, renewing, cleansing.

But if I have learned anything during this wet season in Lesotho, it's that rain brings up a lot of dirt.

With each storm we get here, our sidewalks and back walkways get covered in mud, slime, and filth. Our ponds overflow, the weeds grow high, and our lawn turns to mush.

As I sat on our front steps and watched the rain come down this morning, these were the thoughts running through my head. 

Just as these few summer months in Lesotho are rainy and wet, God brings us through seasons of cloud and storm. And just with the rain, it is exciting and thrilling at first. The power of the storm makes you cozy up inside, letting you be still. But after awhile, we begin to get restless. We feel trapped and claustrophobic. I think when we are in seasons of spiritual rain, this fact is the same. We welcome the quiet time, but then get uncomfortable to be stuck in the stillness. We see things around us getting weedy, mushy, dirty. Our clean paths suddenly become slimy, and we have to navigate new routes because our normal ones are flooded. 

Nobody wants the dirt of their life to be brought to the surface. We want the lawns of our lives to be well-manicured, the path before us clean, dry, and sure. We want a little rain shower here and there to make our flowers grow, but we have no desire for a flooded, mushy swamp. Yet these are the moments that God seems to transform our hearts.

Some storms in our lives make us feel so trapped that we will find any excuse to get out. But when we step out the front door, we realize the paths we are so used to have become a pond, and God forces us to choose a different way. 

Some seasons reveal the weeds in our lives, the outside things that keep our flowers, our faith, from blooming. We see how far they have spread, and we are shown exactly where we need to mow, to cut out the things that hinder us from our full potential in Christ.

Still other seasons just bring up a lot of dirt. These seasons don't force you to find a new route, they don't show you the outside obstacles in your faith. Instead, they show you the things you have covered up with grass, the deeply buried sin, the filth. This may be the most difficult season of all.

When our paths get flooded, we have the joy of discovering the new one God has intended for us. When our yard springs up with weeds, we get to remove them and watch our flowers grow. Though the path may be longer and the weeds tricky to get out, both end in something new, something better.

But in the seasons of mud and dirt, it seems to just stick there. The sun comes out, our paths are dry and we can get rid of the weeds, but the dirt stays there on the sidewalk. It gets stepped on and finds its way into the cracks and settles when the water soaks up. We can try to sweep it away, but we end up just spreading it around. It sticks to our feet and we start to track it inside the house.

Yet this cannot be the end. As I sat on my front porch, I knew there had to be something that got rid of the dirt. I thought long and hard. I thought through the flooding, I thought through the weeds, but I knew the dirt stayed, even when everything else was dry again.

In Lesotho, the only thing that gets rid of the filth is wind. It may be a soft breeze that gently blows the dirt away, or it may come in big gusts that quickly pick it up and sweep it off.

In the Bible, the Hebrew word used for wind is often the same as the word for Spirit: ruach. So as it is with the physical dirt on our sidewalks at Beautiful Gate, the ruach is the only thing that can remove the dirt in our lives. It may come gently, or it may come in a mighty gust, but it comes on its own accord. We cannot get rid of the dirt ourselves, and we cannot force the wind to come, but in the right season, God sends the ruach into our lives and removes the filth and dirt.

I don't know what the weather is like in your life. I don't know if you can hear the thunder in the distance, if it's right above your house, or if the sun has come out again to dry up all the water. But wherever the storm is or has been, take a look at your lawn. 

Is God asking you to seek out a new path? Pursue it with a spirit of adventure and discovery, taking joy in knowing it has been marked out by Him.

Is He revealing the weeds you need to pull? Dig them all out and watch the beauty of obedience blossom.

Is He uncovering your filth? Rest assured that His wind has come, and worship Him for His gracious and complete cleansing.

Friends, may you see beauty in the rain God sends in your life (and keep your eyes open for the rainbows too).