December 24, 2010
Our First Eve
All snug in his Christmas jammies, Joab is asleep for his first Christmas Eve at home. Complete with a special dinner, carols and scripture reading with the Nelsons, and Auntie Madds and Mols- I think he enjoyed it. I can't wait to tell you all about him, but for now- Merry Christmas, dear friends, and glory to God in the highest!
December 15, 2010
A Thrill of Hope
I met him in July, when my sister was visiting. We had heard about him from several people; famous in missionary circles for being the most well-known orphan with special needs living in Lusaka. No one knew his story, just that he lived in a transit home and that he wasn't on-track with the rest of the kids. Our visit was short, but intriguing, and we scheduled another time to meet with him and his caretakers to do a more full assessment of his abilities.
Another visit here, a check-up there- all the while, something brewing in my heart for this one. It didn't happen all at once, nor would I have called it "love at first sight," it was just one of those things that wouldn't go away. A nagging in my heart reminding me that I had committed my life to caring for orphans who have special needs- So why not him, my heart kept asking.
And when it still didn't fade, I decided to get serious about it. Really asking the Lord, why not him? Why would I leave him stuck where he is when I know that the life You have called me to live is meant for ones just like him? He has no parents. No relatives. No one to care for him. So why not him, Lord?
The answer was pretty straightforward- there was no why not. And so I met with a social worker. I did an interview and a home study. I've waited and prayed, prayed and waited. Today the 'yes' became a reality, and I brought home the formerly orphaned Donald Musebo to his new life as Joab Musebo (Bailey, maybe someday).
Last week, we sang O Holy Night at a Christmas concert, and I thought of him. Weary little boy, it is time to rejoice- for your Father has not failed you, nor forgotten you, and yonder does break a new and glorious morn. Just as He came for His people, He has sent someone for you. I am so thrilled with hope that it happens to be me.
Another visit here, a check-up there- all the while, something brewing in my heart for this one. It didn't happen all at once, nor would I have called it "love at first sight," it was just one of those things that wouldn't go away. A nagging in my heart reminding me that I had committed my life to caring for orphans who have special needs- So why not him, my heart kept asking.
And when it still didn't fade, I decided to get serious about it. Really asking the Lord, why not him? Why would I leave him stuck where he is when I know that the life You have called me to live is meant for ones just like him? He has no parents. No relatives. No one to care for him. So why not him, Lord?
The answer was pretty straightforward- there was no why not. And so I met with a social worker. I did an interview and a home study. I've waited and prayed, prayed and waited. Today the 'yes' became a reality, and I brought home the formerly orphaned Donald Musebo to his new life as Joab Musebo (Bailey, maybe someday).
Last week, we sang O Holy Night at a Christmas concert, and I thought of him. Weary little boy, it is time to rejoice- for your Father has not failed you, nor forgotten you, and yonder does break a new and glorious morn. Just as He came for His people, He has sent someone for you. I am so thrilled with hope that it happens to be me.
December 1, 2010
Heading Back
Well, all my test results (lots and lots of them) all came back normal enough for me to head back to Zambia on the 5:40 PM to Jo'burg. The bottom line was that I had some sort of bad infection in my digestive system, most likely some kind of parasite, and am now dealing with the remnants. The upside is that the infection is no longer in my body!! The tricky side is that I will have to be more careful about what I eat and drink when I get back, so as not to get reinfected.
All in all, it was a really great couple weeks of being with family and some friends. Good food. Good people. What more can I girl ask for, right? Perfect timing, too because when I do get back to Lusaka, there are going to be some big changes happening in my life. I'll wait until I'm back before I delve into all that...
All in all, it was a really great couple weeks of being with family and some friends. Good food. Good people. What more can I girl ask for, right? Perfect timing, too because when I do get back to Lusaka, there are going to be some big changes happening in my life. I'll wait until I'm back before I delve into all that...
November 23, 2010
The Week of Scopys
So far, not much to report. I've had lots of different tests, including a sonogram and an endoscopy last week, and a colonoscopy this week. Anyone who has had a colonoscopy before knows that the prep is the absolute worse thing ever. No eating, then you have to drink this stuff that is completely awful. Overall, it's been a rough 24 hours.
I don't know if it's a good or bad thing- but the doctors and tests so far have not found anything to blame for my sickness. Still some results to come, so maybe there is still something lurking about waiting to be discovered.
Keep praying, would you?
I don't know if it's a good or bad thing- but the doctors and tests so far have not found anything to blame for my sickness. Still some results to come, so maybe there is still something lurking about waiting to be discovered.
Keep praying, would you?
November 16, 2010
The Good News...
I am excited to get to see my family and close friends. Somehow, I lucked out and will get to see ALL of my immediate family, all in one place, at one time! My dad and stepmom will be visiting the US (they currently live in Spain) the same time I will be there. I haven’t gotten to spend very much time with them since last Christmas, so I am thrilled at an unexpected week or so together. My mom was also able to take some time off work so that she could be there to help, for doctor’s appointments, for procedures. She is always so good to have around when you’re sick, so I am glad that she will be there with me. My sister will be on break from school, so I will get to spend Thanksgiving with her as well. I haven’t ever spent a holiday with royalty, so I am very excited to do so this year with her.
I will also get to spend time with beloved aunts, uncles, cousins, and close friends. I will be so glad to get to have conversations with them over a meal at the kitchen table instead of through a computer- what a treat!
So like I said, this trip won’t be all bad- in fact I guess it could be a nice recharge. Would you pray that it indeed restores energy so that I may return to Zambia ready and eager to get back to work!
I will also get to spend time with beloved aunts, uncles, cousins, and close friends. I will be so glad to get to have conversations with them over a meal at the kitchen table instead of through a computer- what a treat!
So like I said, this trip won’t be all bad- in fact I guess it could be a nice recharge. Would you pray that it indeed restores energy so that I may return to Zambia ready and eager to get back to work!
The Bad News...
I have had to leave Zambia. Believe me, this trip was not a part of my plan, nor were the digestive problems causing the trip in the first place. And yet, here I am- sitting in what feels like an entirely different world, the Johannesburg airport. When I got off the plane from Lusaka, I stepped into what I believe was the most high-tech bathroom I have ever seen. I went to wash my hands at what looked like a slightly downward-sloping granite countertop, where the water gently cascaded onto the flat surface before being guided into a crevice leading to the drain. Very fancy.
Then, to dry my hands, they had one of those NASA-style blowers; the ones where your skin goes all funny and you find yourself completely dry within 0.3 seconds. I’m pretty sure the electricity needed to power one of those things is the same amount used on a given evening by a small neighborhood in Lusaka. Again, very fancy.
And so, I am already missing dear Zambia. I know it won’t be long before I am back, and that I really need to figure out what is going on inside my paining stomach and cramping intestines. Doesn’t change the fact that I’ll miss it every minute I’m not there.
Will you pray for the doctors to have wisdom in administering tests? Would you pray that some sort of result is found, and perhaps even a way to treat the cause? Will you also pray for my heart as it longs to be content with God’s plan even and especially when it does not match my own?
Then again, with every announcement of bad news, there usually follows some good news too…
Then, to dry my hands, they had one of those NASA-style blowers; the ones where your skin goes all funny and you find yourself completely dry within 0.3 seconds. I’m pretty sure the electricity needed to power one of those things is the same amount used on a given evening by a small neighborhood in Lusaka. Again, very fancy.
And so, I am already missing dear Zambia. I know it won’t be long before I am back, and that I really need to figure out what is going on inside my paining stomach and cramping intestines. Doesn’t change the fact that I’ll miss it every minute I’m not there.
Will you pray for the doctors to have wisdom in administering tests? Would you pray that some sort of result is found, and perhaps even a way to treat the cause? Will you also pray for my heart as it longs to be content with God’s plan even and especially when it does not match my own?
Then again, with every announcement of bad news, there usually follows some good news too…
November 2, 2010
Believing His Promise, Standing in the River
"I think that in guidance God deals with us as He dealt with the Israelites. The first crossing of the sea was made very easy, the guidance could not have been simpler. The strong east wind blew and divided the sea before the people had to cross; not a foot was wet, except perhaps by the driving spray.
But how different it was on the second occasion, when God taught them to obey without, as it were, making it first of all impossible to disobey. The priests has to stand still in the water of the river. What a sight for men to scoff at, that standing still in the water! But it was not till they obeyed- and, without a particle of visible proof that they were doing right, went on to carry the ark right into the river- that the water rolled back before them.
So, it seems to me, we may as we go on with God be called again and again to go right into our rivers, to wet our feet in them. We may be called to do what nobody understands but those to whom the word has come and the promise. But the word must come first and the promise too. We must be sure, with an inward conviction that absolutely nothing can shake."
-Taken from Amy Carmichael's writing compiled in Candles in the Dark.
But how different it was on the second occasion, when God taught them to obey without, as it were, making it first of all impossible to disobey. The priests has to stand still in the water of the river. What a sight for men to scoff at, that standing still in the water! But it was not till they obeyed- and, without a particle of visible proof that they were doing right, went on to carry the ark right into the river- that the water rolled back before them.
So, it seems to me, we may as we go on with God be called again and again to go right into our rivers, to wet our feet in them. We may be called to do what nobody understands but those to whom the word has come and the promise. But the word must come first and the promise too. We must be sure, with an inward conviction that absolutely nothing can shake."
-Taken from Amy Carmichael's writing compiled in Candles in the Dark.
November 1, 2010
Rain Again
As I write, it is thunderstorming away. I sat for a bit, enjoying the breeze coming in through the open windows and the lightning flashes peeking in through the curtains. And then I remembered an article I read while waiting in a doctor's office the other day. Rainy season, while bringing delight to me and growth to the many fruit and veggie plants in our yard, brings with it what I can only imagine is fear and discouragement for many. Especially those who live in John Laing compound- one of the poorest in the city; one that does not have any sort of functioning drainage system. A storm like tonight, for so many, only means the beginning of a season of sickness and death; all beginning as the water stagnates, the refuse overflows, and the germs infect.
UNICEF reports that over 5000 children die there every year from diarrhea. Cholera abounds. Malaria proliferates. Can you imagine what it must feel like to be a mother living with her children in John Laing? Attempting to keep some semblance of normalcy even though you practically need a small boat to get to the market everyday? Trying to protect your children from whatever lives in the 1.5 meter deep pool of water that has now overflown your house? Watching your child waste away into nothing but a memory? I really can't imagine.
Next time it rains, won't you pray with me for them? Lord, give those mothers peace tonight. Protect their little ones. Comfort the ones who are already sick. Be near to the ones who are left to mourn. In all of it- may you receive all the glory, O Father.
UNICEF reports that over 5000 children die there every year from diarrhea. Cholera abounds. Malaria proliferates. Can you imagine what it must feel like to be a mother living with her children in John Laing? Attempting to keep some semblance of normalcy even though you practically need a small boat to get to the market everyday? Trying to protect your children from whatever lives in the 1.5 meter deep pool of water that has now overflown your house? Watching your child waste away into nothing but a memory? I really can't imagine.
Next time it rains, won't you pray with me for them? Lord, give those mothers peace tonight. Protect their little ones. Comfort the ones who are already sick. Be near to the ones who are left to mourn. In all of it- may you receive all the glory, O Father.
October 31, 2010
It Rained.
It was ridiculously hot this morning, and after sweating through an otherwise lovely worship service- we came out to find the clouds rolling in. By afternoon, it was drizzling. And this evening, it rained. Thunder, lightning, and lots of rain.
I've unpacked my raincoat and boots and am excited to see what the Lord brings in this new season...
I've unpacked my raincoat and boots and am excited to see what the Lord brings in this new season...
October 17, 2010
One of Those Mornings
Normally, I am excited to get out of bed to a crazy day of life here in Zambia. This morning, however, was not really one of those mornings. Today, I stayed in bed a bit longer, read a couple more chapters of my Bible, and prayed with a little more mmph.
Last night, my sister was crowned Homecoming Queen at Virginia Tech. She worked her butt off campaigning (as did so many of her friends) and it all came together into what I'm sure was a moment of incredible surreality- her name being called in front of thousands.
Those thousands, however, did not include me. I didn't get to be there for any of it.
Hence, one of those mornings.
It doesn't have me doubting being here, nor the work I do here. It does not have me questioning God's plan, nor the fact that it involves me being so far away from people like my beloved sister. It simply reminds me of the cost. In Scripture, we read over and over again that following Jesus costs you everything- nothing short of your entire life. I'm starting to realize, though, that it's in the adding up of the little things that one really begins to understand what 'everything' really means. It means a quick trip down to Blacksburg just to be there for the kick-off of the campaign. It means standing with your mom as you wave frantically at your sister's car in homecoming parade. It means being there for a beautiful moment of your sister's life, when God's glory is shining through her before tens of thousands of people. These are all a part of the 'everything' it costs me to follow Jesus and His plan for my life.
And so, one of those mornings indeed. When a little more energy and a lot more grace is needed to thank God for another opportunity to give my life to Him. When a little more perspective and a lot more vision is needed to praise God for another day to serve Him here in Zambia. And most characteristic of this morning- when it feels a bit easier to just fall at His feet and plead with Him for the strength needed to do it all.
Last night, my sister was crowned Homecoming Queen at Virginia Tech. She worked her butt off campaigning (as did so many of her friends) and it all came together into what I'm sure was a moment of incredible surreality- her name being called in front of thousands.
Those thousands, however, did not include me. I didn't get to be there for any of it.
Hence, one of those mornings.
It doesn't have me doubting being here, nor the work I do here. It does not have me questioning God's plan, nor the fact that it involves me being so far away from people like my beloved sister. It simply reminds me of the cost. In Scripture, we read over and over again that following Jesus costs you everything- nothing short of your entire life. I'm starting to realize, though, that it's in the adding up of the little things that one really begins to understand what 'everything' really means. It means a quick trip down to Blacksburg just to be there for the kick-off of the campaign. It means standing with your mom as you wave frantically at your sister's car in homecoming parade. It means being there for a beautiful moment of your sister's life, when God's glory is shining through her before tens of thousands of people. These are all a part of the 'everything' it costs me to follow Jesus and His plan for my life.
And so, one of those mornings indeed. When a little more energy and a lot more grace is needed to thank God for another opportunity to give my life to Him. When a little more perspective and a lot more vision is needed to praise God for another day to serve Him here in Zambia. And most characteristic of this morning- when it feels a bit easier to just fall at His feet and plead with Him for the strength needed to do it all.
October 15, 2010
I Like Nuns.
Sister Ermenia. She is in my language class- from Italy, barely speaks English, and is learning Nyanja in order to better serve her patients at the main hospital in a southern border town. She is clearing working so hard to get this language down, and simultaneously itching to get back to her ministry. When asked by a classmate how she was doing, she simply replied 'I want a scalpel and to get back to the theater' (Zambian phrase for an OR). The town where she works is known to be a rough place, where truckers en-route from Zimbabwe to Zambia await customs clearing. From what I have heard, there is no lack of sex-workers and mowa (alcohol) in this town, and so it would seem Sister Ermenia has plenty of good reasons to get back to work.
Then, there is Sister Mariola, who runs a children's home here in Lusaka. She has been doing so for 27 years, and so clearly loves each child living there- as do all of the Polish Sisters who work there with her. They have developed an incredible program- counseling and strengthening families so that children can remain at home, working out caring foster situations with relatives, and then taking the children who have nowhere else to go. They don't turn anyone away...not even kids who have disabilities. She clearly won the heart of Sam, Maggie, and Mollie when we visited last week- her wit and charm proved a magnet for all three of them. Sam even snuck in a few good hugs and a couple smooches on the cheek before we left.
And though I don't fully know or understand what they believe or the commitment they have made- the actions of these two women have shown to me the beauty of a life given to God. In the caring for of patients with HIV in a dangerous African border town, and in the taking in of hundreds of orphaned and sick children, they both have spurred me on in the giving away of my life for the sake of the poor. Another fav nun of mine once said...
Then, there is Sister Mariola, who runs a children's home here in Lusaka. She has been doing so for 27 years, and so clearly loves each child living there- as do all of the Polish Sisters who work there with her. They have developed an incredible program- counseling and strengthening families so that children can remain at home, working out caring foster situations with relatives, and then taking the children who have nowhere else to go. They don't turn anyone away...not even kids who have disabilities. She clearly won the heart of Sam, Maggie, and Mollie when we visited last week- her wit and charm proved a magnet for all three of them. Sam even snuck in a few good hugs and a couple smooches on the cheek before we left.
And though I don't fully know or understand what they believe or the commitment they have made- the actions of these two women have shown to me the beauty of a life given to God. In the caring for of patients with HIV in a dangerous African border town, and in the taking in of hundreds of orphaned and sick children, they both have spurred me on in the giving away of my life for the sake of the poor. Another fav nun of mine once said...
'Let us touch the dying, the poor, the lonely and the unwanted according to the graces we have received and let us not be ashamed or slow to do the humble work.'For those of you who think nuns to be historic relics of some past age- I've got news for you- they're not, and they are gettin' things done in the name of Jesus. I only hope to get to meet and know more of them, and to be continually challenged by the lives they live for others, and more importantly, the lives they don't live for themselves.
-Mother Teresa
October 5, 2010
Mphunzitsi akukuitanani.
This phrase is problematic for numerous reasons:
1. It has way too many syllables. How in the world am I going to remember all of them, and in the right order so that I could ever use it in a conversation? It's just not gonna happen...
2. It means 'The teacher is calling on you.' If anyone were to actually say this phrase to me, it would take at least 5 minutes to sort through all the syllables in order to know that the teacher was, indeed talking to me.
3. What if the teacher really is calling on me?? What did he say? What will I say in response? What if I don't know and he says back to me 'Sindingathe kukuthandiza.' (I cannot help you.) I will surely be lost forever in an ever-deepening pit of syllabic doom.
Please pray (or should I say zikomo, pempherani)- week two of Nyanja classes is proving to be much more difficult than last. My guess is that it only goes up (in difficulty, that is) from here.
1. It has way too many syllables. How in the world am I going to remember all of them, and in the right order so that I could ever use it in a conversation? It's just not gonna happen...
2. It means 'The teacher is calling on you.' If anyone were to actually say this phrase to me, it would take at least 5 minutes to sort through all the syllables in order to know that the teacher was, indeed talking to me.
3. What if the teacher really is calling on me?? What did he say? What will I say in response? What if I don't know and he says back to me 'Sindingathe kukuthandiza.' (I cannot help you.) I will surely be lost forever in an ever-deepening pit of syllabic doom.
Please pray (or should I say zikomo, pempherani)- week two of Nyanja classes is proving to be much more difficult than last. My guess is that it only goes up (in difficulty, that is) from here.
October 4, 2010
A Proud Big Sister
As if her cuteness wasn't enough to be proud of...
...my sister is campaigning for Homecoming Queen this week at Virginia Tech. She is representing Campus Crusade for Christ (each member of HC court is sponsored by a student organization), and therefore she is getting to share the testimony of God's work in her life in all sorts of new, different, and BIG ways. You can check it out on her really cool website- The Daily Bailey (http://thedailybailey.net)- I would definitely recommend the post titled "How did you get involved with Cru?"
It was so fun to have her here with us this summer, workin Special Hope like a champ (that's her on the right)...
...but it is also so fun to watch God use her to love people in her Bible studies, sorority, and campus. It's also particularly fun for me to watch her care for orphans around the world...
in Nicaragua...
and here in Zambia.
I can only imagine all God will do with this precious girl. Whatever it is, I'm excited to have a front row seat.
...my sister is campaigning for Homecoming Queen this week at Virginia Tech. She is representing Campus Crusade for Christ (each member of HC court is sponsored by a student organization), and therefore she is getting to share the testimony of God's work in her life in all sorts of new, different, and BIG ways. You can check it out on her really cool website- The Daily Bailey (http://thedailybailey.net)- I would definitely recommend the post titled "How did you get involved with Cru?"
It was so fun to have her here with us this summer, workin Special Hope like a champ (that's her on the right)...
...but it is also so fun to watch God use her to love people in her Bible studies, sorority, and campus. It's also particularly fun for me to watch her care for orphans around the world...
in Nicaragua...
and here in Zambia.
I can only imagine all God will do with this precious girl. Whatever it is, I'm excited to have a front row seat.
September 27, 2010
Pause for a Nyanja Update
Today started my 10-week intensive language class. Everyday, from 9-12. For 10 weeks.
Sounds like a whole-lot-a language class to me...
Even though it feels like a lot of time spent doing 'prep work,' and not 'real work,' I am encouraged and excited about it. Even more so after a visit to an official's office today, where my conversation with the receptionist went something like this...
I walk in...
Me- "Mwacoma bwanji?" How are you?
Her- "Bwino, mwacoma bwanji?" I am fine, how are you?
Me- "Bwino. I am looking..."
Interrupted by...
Her-"No, no, no. You started in Nyanja, you finish in Nyanja."
Dramatic pause for thinking...
Me- "OK, I think I can do this...Ndifuna kuona Bambo Chiti." I want to see Mr. Chiti.
Her- Big smile. "Ah, right this way."
Me- Bigger smile. "Zikomo."
Sounds like a whole-lot-a language class to me...
Even though it feels like a lot of time spent doing 'prep work,' and not 'real work,' I am encouraged and excited about it. Even more so after a visit to an official's office today, where my conversation with the receptionist went something like this...
I walk in...
Me- "Mwacoma bwanji?" How are you?
Her- "Bwino, mwacoma bwanji?" I am fine, how are you?
Me- "Bwino. I am looking..."
Interrupted by...
Her-"No, no, no. You started in Nyanja, you finish in Nyanja."
Dramatic pause for thinking...
Me- "OK, I think I can do this...Ndifuna kuona Bambo Chiti." I want to see Mr. Chiti.
Her- Big smile. "Ah, right this way."
Me- Bigger smile. "Zikomo."
September 25, 2010
Quiet Time- Part Two
‘Oh, but my quiet time is my favorite time of the day. I just love spending time with the Lord.’
I know this line. I have said it to myself and others a thousand times- and for the most part, I said it with a genuine heart. I love to study the Word. I am learning ancient languages so I can do so more intimately and carefully. I love to pray. Give me a prayer meeting with close friends and mentors, and I am a happy girl. And for years, that is why I prioritized it above all else- I just loved spending time with the Lord.
I was not only the teller of the analogy of Part One, but also a firm believer in the truth I thought it represented. In order for me to grow in my relationship with God; in order for me to get closer to my Best Friend- I needed to spend long hours studying the Word and in prayer. Problems arose when I realized the selfishness behind this belief and my quiet times.
Of course, I would try to dispense what I learned to others, but mainly- my quiet times were meant for me. It was my time with God; time that I chose to spend for me; time I needed to spend for me.
Red flags should always go up when we hear things like these go through our minds. And for me, those red flags eventually led to a white flag; one that went up as soon as my heart started to grasp the truth of this verse-
Take another look at the requirements and recommendations from Part One-
You see, if I truly understand my relationship with God (that He is completely sovereign, and therefore I am completely dependent), I am no longer required (or recommended) to live for myself. My dependency on and trust in God for all things frees my heart and life to be emptied of my own concerns and filled with those of others. And like I wrote in Part One, my quiet time is meant only to compel and propel me to that end.
It is my understanding that if I really want to be and live as a friend of God; if I really want to be closer to Him- quiet times are only the pre-game. They are the behind the scenes of faithfulness, not the main event. The show only really begins when we stand up from that time (caps replaced on color-coded pens, and last sip taken), and walk in obedience and faithfulness to that which we just read and prayed. Only then we will really know (and love) what it really means to be a friend of God.
(A rereading of what was supposed to be the second half of a two part post has me realizing there is still a Part Three.)
I know this line. I have said it to myself and others a thousand times- and for the most part, I said it with a genuine heart. I love to study the Word. I am learning ancient languages so I can do so more intimately and carefully. I love to pray. Give me a prayer meeting with close friends and mentors, and I am a happy girl. And for years, that is why I prioritized it above all else- I just loved spending time with the Lord.
I was not only the teller of the analogy of Part One, but also a firm believer in the truth I thought it represented. In order for me to grow in my relationship with God; in order for me to get closer to my Best Friend- I needed to spend long hours studying the Word and in prayer. Problems arose when I realized the selfishness behind this belief and my quiet times.
Of course, I would try to dispense what I learned to others, but mainly- my quiet times were meant for me. It was my time with God; time that I chose to spend for me; time I needed to spend for me.
Red flags should always go up when we hear things like these go through our minds. And for me, those red flags eventually led to a white flag; one that went up as soon as my heart started to grasp the truth of this verse-
I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.I realized that the majority of my life was being lived by me and for me- not by Christ and for Christ. My quiet times were no exception. I was choosing to spend that time in a way I wanted, as opposed to the way Christ would want to live through me. And as far as I can see in Scripture, the life of Christ (and therefore the life of a believer) was always other-focused. For Christ to live through me, my selfish desires would have to be surrendered to that which benefited and blessed others.
Galatians 2:20
Take another look at the requirements and recommendations from Part One-
So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you.Notice a theme? I’ll give you a hint- it is not me. First and foremost- the life of a Christian is marked by sacrifice on behalf of others. Why? Because that is what marked the life of Christ, Himself-
Matthew 7:12
You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.
Matthew 22:37-39
Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.
Matthew 28:19
I appeal to you, therefore brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.
Romans 12:1
Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.
James 1:27
By this we know love, that He laid down His life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers.I don’t get to choose how I love God- He has already demonstrated and qualified in Scripture what love means to Him. It is the pouring out of my life so that others may benefit and be blessed. As this principle applies to my life in its entirety- my quiet times are most certainly included. They are to be for the benefit and blessing of others- not for me.
1 John 3:16
You see, if I truly understand my relationship with God (that He is completely sovereign, and therefore I am completely dependent), I am no longer required (or recommended) to live for myself. My dependency on and trust in God for all things frees my heart and life to be emptied of my own concerns and filled with those of others. And like I wrote in Part One, my quiet time is meant only to compel and propel me to that end.
It is my understanding that if I really want to be and live as a friend of God; if I really want to be closer to Him- quiet times are only the pre-game. They are the behind the scenes of faithfulness, not the main event. The show only really begins when we stand up from that time (caps replaced on color-coded pens, and last sip taken), and walk in obedience and faithfulness to that which we just read and prayed. Only then we will really know (and love) what it really means to be a friend of God.
(A rereading of what was supposed to be the second half of a two part post has me realizing there is still a Part Three.)
Quiet Time- Part One
With Holly back from her recovery trip to the US, I have had the last few days to settle back into my non-mommy routine. First on the list of my to-do’s was to spend lots of in the Word and in prayer- since the time I did get to spend over the past month had been intermittent and often interrupted. Today, for example, I remained at home while the Nelson clan went to the vegetable market (a plastic tent set up outside the BP gas station) in order to do just that.
Sitting down to spend time reading and praying, however, has my mind reeling on questions it has been incessantly asking over the past year or so- why do I spend time doing this? What is its purpose? What is its worth?
An obvious, but maybe less thoughtful answer would be, ‘well, because that’s what Christians do- they prioritize time spent reading the Bible and praying.’ I’ve often been told, and have often been the teller of the analogy that your relationship with God is just like a relationship with a friend- you have to spend time with them in order to get to know them and to show them you care about them. Relationships take time, right? And the best way for Christian to spend time with God is to sit down with a Bible, color-coded pens, a prayer journal and a hot/cold beverage of choice.
Here is the real nagging question in my head- where in Scripture does it say we are to do this? I can find no verse or passage requiring or even recommending this of Christians. And so, the follow-up questions roll on: why do I spend time doing this? What is its purpose? What is its worth?
Especially when the verses I do read about the requirements and recommendations of a Christian sound more like these-
The point of quiet times (and everything else for that matter), must always be God. Scripture is quite clear that the distinguishing factor in each of those requirements and recommendations is that they are not actually possible without God. Not in any way. Not even close. He is the One who brings them about and the One who actually accomplishes them in the heart and life of a Christian. We are completely dependent upon Him to do them.
It is this dependence that brings about the necessity and demand for time spent in the Word and in prayer. It is not a time to show God how much we love Him- it is a time to show our complete and utter dependence upon Him in order to love Him. Just like the Israelites depended on Manna from heaven for their daily physical nourishment (Exodus 16), we are to depend on the Bread of the Word for our own daily spiritual nourishment. Our quiet time should be likened to the time the Israelites spent collecting the Manna from the fields- we go to the Word in order to be fed and prepared. It does not demonstrate our faith- it prepares and propels us to demonstrate our faith.
So next time you sit, I challenge you to think about why you are doing so. Are you doing so because it is what you are supposed to do, or because it is what you must do? Does your life of faith absolutely depend on that time spent with God, or does that time lessen the guilt over the life of faith you do not live? The difference actually seems to make…a big difference.
Sitting down to spend time reading and praying, however, has my mind reeling on questions it has been incessantly asking over the past year or so- why do I spend time doing this? What is its purpose? What is its worth?
An obvious, but maybe less thoughtful answer would be, ‘well, because that’s what Christians do- they prioritize time spent reading the Bible and praying.’ I’ve often been told, and have often been the teller of the analogy that your relationship with God is just like a relationship with a friend- you have to spend time with them in order to get to know them and to show them you care about them. Relationships take time, right? And the best way for Christian to spend time with God is to sit down with a Bible, color-coded pens, a prayer journal and a hot/cold beverage of choice.
Here is the real nagging question in my head- where in Scripture does it say we are to do this? I can find no verse or passage requiring or even recommending this of Christians. And so, the follow-up questions roll on: why do I spend time doing this? What is its purpose? What is its worth?
Especially when the verses I do read about the requirements and recommendations of a Christian sound more like these-
So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you.If these are the things required of us, why then do we prioritize quiet time above all else? If we are doing so for the sake of ourselves and even for the sake of our own relationship with God, we have gotten it wrong. You see, if we are actually Christians who have been filled with the spirit of Christ- our ‘selves’ are no longer and can never be the point.
Matthew 7:12
You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.
Matthew 22:37-39
Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.
Matthew 28:19
I appeal to you, therefore brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.
Romans 12:1
Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.
James 1:27
The point of quiet times (and everything else for that matter), must always be God. Scripture is quite clear that the distinguishing factor in each of those requirements and recommendations is that they are not actually possible without God. Not in any way. Not even close. He is the One who brings them about and the One who actually accomplishes them in the heart and life of a Christian. We are completely dependent upon Him to do them.
It is this dependence that brings about the necessity and demand for time spent in the Word and in prayer. It is not a time to show God how much we love Him- it is a time to show our complete and utter dependence upon Him in order to love Him. Just like the Israelites depended on Manna from heaven for their daily physical nourishment (Exodus 16), we are to depend on the Bread of the Word for our own daily spiritual nourishment. Our quiet time should be likened to the time the Israelites spent collecting the Manna from the fields- we go to the Word in order to be fed and prepared. It does not demonstrate our faith- it prepares and propels us to demonstrate our faith.
So next time you sit, I challenge you to think about why you are doing so. Are you doing so because it is what you are supposed to do, or because it is what you must do? Does your life of faith absolutely depend on that time spent with God, or does that time lessen the guilt over the life of faith you do not live? The difference actually seems to make…a big difference.
September 22, 2010
What is Happening to Them?
Last week, when I met with a Zambian social worker and asked her this question, she didn't have an answer for me. "So, you are saying that if/when a child with a disability is abandoned or orphaned, there is nowhere for them to go?" Her simple “there is nowhere” hardly seemed like an answer at all. I wanted to stand up out of my chair and yell "Then where do they go? What is happening to them?"
And though I did not do so then, it is still a question that must be asked; one that deserves a proper answer. I understand that currently in Zambia (and most other southern African countries) there is nowhere for orphaned or abandoned children with disabilities, especially intellectual disabilities, to go. We have not yet found a place that will knowingly and willfully take such a child. But here is the thing, once abandoned or orphaned, these children don't just evaporate- so what is happening to them?
Perhaps the best (I use the word 'best' to mean the most satisfying amongst a very dissatisfactory list of options) answer comes in the form of statistics most widely recognized by the World Health Organization. For starters, 4 out of 5 of them die before they reach their fifth birthday (WHO states that in the developing world, the mortality rate of children with disabilities under age 5 is 80%). And since 95% of the worlds' 163 million orphans (numbers reported by UNICEF) are over the age of 5, speculation and extrapolation would lead one to assume there actually aren't very many orphans who have disabilities in the developing world. Most of them simply don't live long enough to have the chance to be abandoned or orphaned.
And so what is the rest of the world doing with these sorry attempts to explain what is happening to children with disabilities? For the most part, nothing. This week, UN leaders from across the globe met to discuss progress (or non-progress) in accomplishing the Millennium Development Goals set for Africa. These 8 objectives were compiled in 1990 and were slated to be achieved by 2015- and with only 5 years left and 'the current pace insufficient to meet the target,' I suppose it seemed about time to hold a summit in order to rally towards the finish line. While these leaders met in NY to discuss strategy and plans for Africa- my guess is that an entire people group was left out the development discussion. Rights for people with disabilities are not explicitly mentioned in any of the MDG's. Sure, one of the goals is to achieve 'universal' primary education for children in Africa- so children with disabilities must be included in that, right? Pretty big goal to accomplish within the next 5 years, considering the fact that currently only 2% of children with disabilities in Africa are enrolled in school. My guess is that they didn’t actually mean universal.
Politicians are one thing, but what about on an individual and family level- what are actual people around the world doing for African children with disabilities? Inter-country adoption has been on the rise for years, and yet children with disabilities are hardly ever the ones to be picked. The demand remains for healthy (well, relatively), typically developing adoptees, and therefore, orphans with special needs remain on waiting lists. “Oh, our family just couldn’t handle the needs of a child with disabilities. The best interest of the child would certainly mean choosing not to adopt them into our family.” And when you have a whole host of people looking out for the ‘best interest’ of these children in this way, you end up with a whole lot of children with ‘nowhere’ to go.
But then again, why would one expect the rest of the world to act, when the abortion rates of children with disabilities are increasing in almost every Western nation? I doubt the UN leader from France would be the one to recognize the missing piece of the development puzzle (the abortion rate of children who have Down syndrome in France is right around 90%).
You see, “What is happening to them?” is a question that actually needs to be asked in most places around the world, developed or not. There must be better answers out there somewhere, even if only in the fantasies of a few hopeful world-changing individuals. It is my own hope that some of those crazy dreams for kids with disabilities somehow become reality- my own wild aspirations included.
Further reading:
MDG's- http://www.un.org/millenniumgoals/
WHO- http://www.who.int/disabilities/media/events/idpdinfo031209/en/
And though I did not do so then, it is still a question that must be asked; one that deserves a proper answer. I understand that currently in Zambia (and most other southern African countries) there is nowhere for orphaned or abandoned children with disabilities, especially intellectual disabilities, to go. We have not yet found a place that will knowingly and willfully take such a child. But here is the thing, once abandoned or orphaned, these children don't just evaporate- so what is happening to them?
Perhaps the best (I use the word 'best' to mean the most satisfying amongst a very dissatisfactory list of options) answer comes in the form of statistics most widely recognized by the World Health Organization. For starters, 4 out of 5 of them die before they reach their fifth birthday (WHO states that in the developing world, the mortality rate of children with disabilities under age 5 is 80%). And since 95% of the worlds' 163 million orphans (numbers reported by UNICEF) are over the age of 5, speculation and extrapolation would lead one to assume there actually aren't very many orphans who have disabilities in the developing world. Most of them simply don't live long enough to have the chance to be abandoned or orphaned.
And so what is the rest of the world doing with these sorry attempts to explain what is happening to children with disabilities? For the most part, nothing. This week, UN leaders from across the globe met to discuss progress (or non-progress) in accomplishing the Millennium Development Goals set for Africa. These 8 objectives were compiled in 1990 and were slated to be achieved by 2015- and with only 5 years left and 'the current pace insufficient to meet the target,' I suppose it seemed about time to hold a summit in order to rally towards the finish line. While these leaders met in NY to discuss strategy and plans for Africa- my guess is that an entire people group was left out the development discussion. Rights for people with disabilities are not explicitly mentioned in any of the MDG's. Sure, one of the goals is to achieve 'universal' primary education for children in Africa- so children with disabilities must be included in that, right? Pretty big goal to accomplish within the next 5 years, considering the fact that currently only 2% of children with disabilities in Africa are enrolled in school. My guess is that they didn’t actually mean universal.
Politicians are one thing, but what about on an individual and family level- what are actual people around the world doing for African children with disabilities? Inter-country adoption has been on the rise for years, and yet children with disabilities are hardly ever the ones to be picked. The demand remains for healthy (well, relatively), typically developing adoptees, and therefore, orphans with special needs remain on waiting lists. “Oh, our family just couldn’t handle the needs of a child with disabilities. The best interest of the child would certainly mean choosing not to adopt them into our family.” And when you have a whole host of people looking out for the ‘best interest’ of these children in this way, you end up with a whole lot of children with ‘nowhere’ to go.
But then again, why would one expect the rest of the world to act, when the abortion rates of children with disabilities are increasing in almost every Western nation? I doubt the UN leader from France would be the one to recognize the missing piece of the development puzzle (the abortion rate of children who have Down syndrome in France is right around 90%).
You see, “What is happening to them?” is a question that actually needs to be asked in most places around the world, developed or not. There must be better answers out there somewhere, even if only in the fantasies of a few hopeful world-changing individuals. It is my own hope that some of those crazy dreams for kids with disabilities somehow become reality- my own wild aspirations included.
Further reading:
MDG's- http://www.un.org/millenniumgoals/
WHO- http://www.who.int/disabilities/media/events/idpdinfo031209/en/
September 20, 2010
Madness Strikes Again
Yep, Mollie seems to have caught a bit more than the evidence of Sam's tummy virus- she seems to have contracted the full blown (I mean that literally, chunks and all, unfortunately) deal. Will you pray for her as her tries to understand and deal with what is going on in her body? And will you pray for us as we just deal?
A self-assessed progress report: I nearly jumped at the second chance to clean up the puke. Seems like this whole Mommy-boot camp thing just may pay off.
A self-assessed progress report: I nearly jumped at the second chance to clean up the puke. Seems like this whole Mommy-boot camp thing just may pay off.
September 15, 2010
Lessons from Jacarandas
“Some people, in order to discover God, read books. But there is a great book: the very appearance of created things. Look above you! Look below you! Read it. God, whom you want to discover, never wrote that book with ink. Instead He set before your eyes the things that He had made. Can you ask for a louder voice than that?”I have not seen a single drop of rain since I got here four and a half months ago. I guess when they say 'it's dry season,' they really mean it, but here is what I don't understand- it has not rained for months, and yet things are beginning to bloom. Specifically noticeable are the intensely bright buds on the jacaranda trees that line most streets...
St. Augustine (354-430)
It simply doesn't make sense. And yet, they continue to bloom.
Perhaps this is one of those things woven purposely into creation by our glorious God. A tree that doesn't function according to the norm- but instead breaks out of the rules in order to shout forth the beauty of God.
This week, I have needed to hear the voice of God in these trees. We have hit some barriers-nothing major, but obstacles nonetheless that seem to suggest a much harder road than we anticipated in caring for orphans with intellectual disabilities in Zambia. Whether it be a heartbreaking visit with a family who doesn't know how to care for their child, realizing they may not even really want to care for their child; or a discouraging word from a social worker who doesn't want to take a 23 year-old white girl seriously; or just a reminder of all that must happen in order for this world to change for children who have disabiltiies- these trees have reminded me to hope.
I may not be seeing rain for a long time, but that does not mean God will not bring forth something beautiful out of this ministry. He does not have to work according to the ways of this world, nor does He have to comply with their expectations, but instead can shock and surprise us when, against all the rules, His purposes actually come to fruition. I certainly hope that is what these trees are saying, because right now, I think they may be some of the few voices allowing me to hope for these kids. Won't you hope with me?
The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad; the desert shall rejoice and blossom like the crocus; it shall blossom abundantly and rejoice with joy and singing.
Isaiah 35:1-2
I will open rivers on the bare heights, and fountains in the midst of the valleys. I will make the wilderness a pool of water, and the dry land springs of water.
Isaiah 41:18
And the LORD will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail.
Isaiah 58:11
September 10, 2010
Special Hope Elbows
No matter how sick we are, there is one thing that never fails- the Special Hope Elbows. It all started about 3 months ago, on the first day we did work with Zambian children who have disabilities. We had just met with two families, and run much later than expected, so went to a small cafe near our house for a quick dinner before bed. We were super excited about the day we had; that we finally got to do what we had been planning on, working to, and dreaming of doing here in Africa.
So, we felt it necessary to make up a new dance in order to celebrate. And since we were all sitting in our chairs and limited in our mobility, we did what came naturally- shook what we could, which turned out to be our elbows. Here are some basic steps to the official Special Hope celebratory dance:
1. Raise the elbow of your choice into the air, so that it is the highest elevated body part.
2. Shake it about so that you sorta look like a one-winged chicken.
Got it? Good, because we now use it in various situations- most usually to celebrate the playing of a particularly favorite song on the iPod or radio in the car. We have humored numerous people with our 'special' dance moves- particularly the men who sell newspapers and talk-time (pre-paid cell phone minutes) on the street. And since the back windows of our truck are tinted, usually all they can see are the typically-developing adults who are sitting in the front seat. They don't know that we are actually encouraging fun and exercise for the children in back, and so must just think what they usually think- crazy mzungus.
Like I said, no matter the weather, we here at Special Hope are gonna keep flappin our feathers!
So, we felt it necessary to make up a new dance in order to celebrate. And since we were all sitting in our chairs and limited in our mobility, we did what came naturally- shook what we could, which turned out to be our elbows. Here are some basic steps to the official Special Hope celebratory dance:
1. Raise the elbow of your choice into the air, so that it is the highest elevated body part.
2. Shake it about so that you sorta look like a one-winged chicken.
Got it? Good, because we now use it in various situations- most usually to celebrate the playing of a particularly favorite song on the iPod or radio in the car. We have humored numerous people with our 'special' dance moves- particularly the men who sell newspapers and talk-time (pre-paid cell phone minutes) on the street. And since the back windows of our truck are tinted, usually all they can see are the typically-developing adults who are sitting in the front seat. They don't know that we are actually encouraging fun and exercise for the children in back, and so must just think what they usually think- crazy mzungus.
Like I said, no matter the weather, we here at Special Hope are gonna keep flappin our feathers!
September 9, 2010
Mother/Servanthood
For the past several weeks, while Holly has been sick with the measles, I have had the privilege of being enrolled in my own personal 'mommy-boot camp.' Measles, especially serious cases, appear to be no fun at all and often cause their hosts to be immobilized in bed for approximately 2 weeks. The aftershock of the virus can also cause complications with the eyeballs, and since we around here consider proper vision to be a precious gift, we thought it best to send Holly back to the States to get the medical care she so desperately needed.
All of this means that I have gotten to step into Holly's (way too big for me) shoes in order to see that Maggie, Mollie, and Sam receive the care they so desperately need. Now, I have lived with these children for 5 months, and have gotten the chance to get to know and get to serve them in lots of ways. None of it, however, compares to the learning and serving I have done in the past several weeks, and will continue to do for a couple more.
Being a mother always seemed like such a wonderful concept. Having children who depend on you, having a house to manage, having meals to prepare- it all seemed to be right up my highly-domesticated alley. The idea of it all seemed great- the reality, however, is altogether different than I had expected. Especially because these children who depend on me are children who really depend on me- for almost everything. The uniqueness of their disabilities and personalities blew my motherhood-perceptions out of the proverbial park, and have spun me down to my very last thread, in many instances.
A story to explain (beware, it involves some potentially nauseating details)- the other night, Sam was 'really not feeling well.' Nor was I, and so assumed we had a bit of a stomach bug going around the house- not at all unusual for mzungus (Swahili for a person of European descent, used commonly here in Zambia to describe us white people) here in Lusaka. Sam, however, tends to be a bit of a drama queen, and so I did not take his complaints with utmost seriousness. My attitude changed, however, the minute Sam jumped up from the couch and began running to the bathroom. I ran after him when I heard the beginnings of his hurling, only to find that there was a standoff going on between the just-had-gone-potty Mollie and the just-about-to-puke Sam. A winner could not be decided in the mere seconds left before the vomit began exiting (with force, might I add) Sam's mouth. So, unfortunately for all players involved, Mollie's feet and legs were covered with the evidence of Sam's stomach virus- as was the rest entire bathroom.
I stood in the hallway, hoping that Eric would come to the rescue and that I would be able to put off this lesson for another day. Eric certainly did come, and like the good father he is, took the more difficult task of cleaning up the bathroom. As this was not a one person job, I realized my hopes of skipping out on this mess needed to be crushed under the reality of the need. Mollie was still covered- standing there next to me, not knowing what to do. So, I took her hand, put her in the tub and washed it all off. Next was Sam, who was now crying and covered, also needing to be hosed down. If you are wondering about Maggie during all of this, she had quickly moved to a front-row seat right outside the bathroom, making sure that she didn't miss out on any of the 'fun.' You know her, she's always up for something ridiculous.
As I dried them off, I thought about this whole 'being a mom/servant' thing. This is not how I would have chosen to serve. I mean, seriously, give me as many meals and loads of laundry as you want- but cleaning up puke when I am already feeling sick is just a little bit too far. Especially because I didn't even get a single 'thank you' out of the whole deal. Mollie simply walked away, not phased by my kindness in the slightest. Sam kept on complaining the rest of the night, and woke me up several times for phases 2 and 3 of the vomit escapades. And Maggie, she just sat there making her normal noises and reminding me that she was 'happy,' and that I should be 'glad' that she was.
I guess I really did fail the whole 'you'll know the reality of your servant's heart when someone actually treats you like a servant' test. Throughout mommy-boot camp, I have definitely been treated like a servant and certainly expected to drop whatever it is I am doing for the sake of whoever and their current need. And my response has been not unlike the paragraph above- laden with a selfish and overall crummy attitude.
Upon further reflection (I find second thoughts usually better than firsts), I am actually deeply thankful for the opportunity I have been given over the past few weeks. Especially for the gift I have been given by Maggie, Mollie, and Sam- I know I am not actually, nor will I ever actually be their mom (God clearly has Holly picked for them for several significant reasons), but they have still given me the gift of 'non-recognition,' I guess you would call it. I don't get to choose how to serve them, nor do I typically receive much heart-felt thanks for doing so. But, in that, they have taught me what it actually means to serve. They have taught me what it actually means to go to the Father for approval and delight, and not to the accolades and applause of others. They have taught me that to serve (especially kids who have special needs) is the utmost privilege, though also the most challenging thing I have yet been called to do.
Would you please pray for my last couple of weeks in boot-camp? I still have a lot to learn...
All of this means that I have gotten to step into Holly's (way too big for me) shoes in order to see that Maggie, Mollie, and Sam receive the care they so desperately need. Now, I have lived with these children for 5 months, and have gotten the chance to get to know and get to serve them in lots of ways. None of it, however, compares to the learning and serving I have done in the past several weeks, and will continue to do for a couple more.
Being a mother always seemed like such a wonderful concept. Having children who depend on you, having a house to manage, having meals to prepare- it all seemed to be right up my highly-domesticated alley. The idea of it all seemed great- the reality, however, is altogether different than I had expected. Especially because these children who depend on me are children who really depend on me- for almost everything. The uniqueness of their disabilities and personalities blew my motherhood-perceptions out of the proverbial park, and have spun me down to my very last thread, in many instances.
A story to explain (beware, it involves some potentially nauseating details)- the other night, Sam was 'really not feeling well.' Nor was I, and so assumed we had a bit of a stomach bug going around the house- not at all unusual for mzungus (Swahili for a person of European descent, used commonly here in Zambia to describe us white people) here in Lusaka. Sam, however, tends to be a bit of a drama queen, and so I did not take his complaints with utmost seriousness. My attitude changed, however, the minute Sam jumped up from the couch and began running to the bathroom. I ran after him when I heard the beginnings of his hurling, only to find that there was a standoff going on between the just-had-gone-potty Mollie and the just-about-to-puke Sam. A winner could not be decided in the mere seconds left before the vomit began exiting (with force, might I add) Sam's mouth. So, unfortunately for all players involved, Mollie's feet and legs were covered with the evidence of Sam's stomach virus- as was the rest entire bathroom.
I stood in the hallway, hoping that Eric would come to the rescue and that I would be able to put off this lesson for another day. Eric certainly did come, and like the good father he is, took the more difficult task of cleaning up the bathroom. As this was not a one person job, I realized my hopes of skipping out on this mess needed to be crushed under the reality of the need. Mollie was still covered- standing there next to me, not knowing what to do. So, I took her hand, put her in the tub and washed it all off. Next was Sam, who was now crying and covered, also needing to be hosed down. If you are wondering about Maggie during all of this, she had quickly moved to a front-row seat right outside the bathroom, making sure that she didn't miss out on any of the 'fun.' You know her, she's always up for something ridiculous.
As I dried them off, I thought about this whole 'being a mom/servant' thing. This is not how I would have chosen to serve. I mean, seriously, give me as many meals and loads of laundry as you want- but cleaning up puke when I am already feeling sick is just a little bit too far. Especially because I didn't even get a single 'thank you' out of the whole deal. Mollie simply walked away, not phased by my kindness in the slightest. Sam kept on complaining the rest of the night, and woke me up several times for phases 2 and 3 of the vomit escapades. And Maggie, she just sat there making her normal noises and reminding me that she was 'happy,' and that I should be 'glad' that she was.
I guess I really did fail the whole 'you'll know the reality of your servant's heart when someone actually treats you like a servant' test. Throughout mommy-boot camp, I have definitely been treated like a servant and certainly expected to drop whatever it is I am doing for the sake of whoever and their current need. And my response has been not unlike the paragraph above- laden with a selfish and overall crummy attitude.
Upon further reflection (I find second thoughts usually better than firsts), I am actually deeply thankful for the opportunity I have been given over the past few weeks. Especially for the gift I have been given by Maggie, Mollie, and Sam- I know I am not actually, nor will I ever actually be their mom (God clearly has Holly picked for them for several significant reasons), but they have still given me the gift of 'non-recognition,' I guess you would call it. I don't get to choose how to serve them, nor do I typically receive much heart-felt thanks for doing so. But, in that, they have taught me what it actually means to serve. They have taught me what it actually means to go to the Father for approval and delight, and not to the accolades and applause of others. They have taught me that to serve (especially kids who have special needs) is the utmost privilege, though also the most challenging thing I have yet been called to do.
Would you please pray for my last couple of weeks in boot-camp? I still have a lot to learn...
August 31, 2010
World Visioning
With all the excitement of the keyboard, I nearly forgot to update you all on the really cool day we had working with World Vision in a rural area outside Lusaka. We had met the Zambian Director of Operations at a small church we visited several weeks ago. Eric and he had a good initial conversation, and so scheduled a meeting to go into more detail about what it might look like for World Vision and Special Hope to do some work together here in Zambia. After a great meeting and a couple weeks passing, we got a phone call asking if we would assist one of their field teams in assessing several children who had disabilities in an area called Chongwe, east of the city. Of course, we eagerly agreed, and were picked up at 10:30 (standard Zambian time, half an hour late) this morning to join the team.
After a nice drive, chatting with the workers about dowries men have to pay for their brides (one woman in the car was given for 10 cows, which is pretty dang good here in Zambia), we arrived at the field office located just outside of a small village. We were ushered into a room, where 3 families were waiting for us with their 4 children.
I don't mean to pick favorites, but for the sake of time I will write about the highlight of our visit- a little boy named Ignatius who had Down syndrome. We recognized it right away with those cute almond eyes, small little ears, and sticky-out tongue that we love so much- he was just adorable. We began assessing him by asking the standard first questions we ask- about the birthing, about when the family first realized he was developing differently than other children, etc. His father told us that he was born normally, and the doctors told them he was 'fine, but sometimes children are born this way when their parents are old,' and then sent them on their way. Since then, the father told us, he has just been different than other kids and he's not sure why.
Eric and I (who were representing Special Hope for this trip) looked at each other with the realization that this father did not know his ten year-old son had Down syndrome. How could that be? He was a sponsored child with World Vision, for goodness sake- how could they not know that he had Down syndrome?
We spent the next half hour talking with this dad about his wonderfully made son- describing all the unique things about kids who have Down syndrome and how to best work with him to learn and understand. Although I am sure we completely overwhelmed this parent- I think there was also a glimpse of hope in his eyes; a sigh of relief to know that his son wasn't some mutant or weirdo- that there are actually lots of kids just like him.
With each beautiful child I get to meet, I feel more and more privilege to be a part of this crazy ministry. Pray with me, won't you, for Ignatius (first of all, pray that one day he might be able to say his own name, because with a name like Ignatius, it's gonna take a lot of work) and for his dad that they might feel loved and cared for today. Even more, that they might know that God has richly blessed them with a son unlike most- a son so uniquely created for the display of the glory of God.
After a nice drive, chatting with the workers about dowries men have to pay for their brides (one woman in the car was given for 10 cows, which is pretty dang good here in Zambia), we arrived at the field office located just outside of a small village. We were ushered into a room, where 3 families were waiting for us with their 4 children.
I don't mean to pick favorites, but for the sake of time I will write about the highlight of our visit- a little boy named Ignatius who had Down syndrome. We recognized it right away with those cute almond eyes, small little ears, and sticky-out tongue that we love so much- he was just adorable. We began assessing him by asking the standard first questions we ask- about the birthing, about when the family first realized he was developing differently than other children, etc. His father told us that he was born normally, and the doctors told them he was 'fine, but sometimes children are born this way when their parents are old,' and then sent them on their way. Since then, the father told us, he has just been different than other kids and he's not sure why.
Eric and I (who were representing Special Hope for this trip) looked at each other with the realization that this father did not know his ten year-old son had Down syndrome. How could that be? He was a sponsored child with World Vision, for goodness sake- how could they not know that he had Down syndrome?
We spent the next half hour talking with this dad about his wonderfully made son- describing all the unique things about kids who have Down syndrome and how to best work with him to learn and understand. Although I am sure we completely overwhelmed this parent- I think there was also a glimpse of hope in his eyes; a sigh of relief to know that his son wasn't some mutant or weirdo- that there are actually lots of kids just like him.
With each beautiful child I get to meet, I feel more and more privilege to be a part of this crazy ministry. Pray with me, won't you, for Ignatius (first of all, pray that one day he might be able to say his own name, because with a name like Ignatius, it's gonna take a lot of work) and for his dad that they might feel loved and cared for today. Even more, that they might know that God has richly blessed them with a son unlike most- a son so uniquely created for the display of the glory of God.
PTL
So I have been praying that God would somehow allow me to have a piano. I looked in the one music store of Lusaka. I have been looking around on the Lusaka-equivalent to craigslist. I even thought of having my mom buy one in the US and bring it as a piece of luggage when she came to visit. None of those options worked out...
And then, when we were sitting at dinner one night last week, at the end of a long day of 'mommy boot camp" (what I like to call the week I had cooking and kid-watching while Holly was sick), a missionary friend texted to ask if I would mind "babysitting" her keyboard for the next year while she was doing some schooling back in the States. I literally started to cry, and said absolutely yes.
There had just been so many times that week when I thought, if I could only sit down and worship for ten minutes- I would feel so much better. There is something about singing that just refreshes me- renews my heart, refocuses my mind, and realigns my emotions. I am so thankful for this gift...isn't she a beaut?
I just finished with a long session at the keys- Madds, you will be happy to know that your teaching has not been forgotten!
And then, when we were sitting at dinner one night last week, at the end of a long day of 'mommy boot camp" (what I like to call the week I had cooking and kid-watching while Holly was sick), a missionary friend texted to ask if I would mind "babysitting" her keyboard for the next year while she was doing some schooling back in the States. I literally started to cry, and said absolutely yes.
There had just been so many times that week when I thought, if I could only sit down and worship for ten minutes- I would feel so much better. There is something about singing that just refreshes me- renews my heart, refocuses my mind, and realigns my emotions. I am so thankful for this gift...isn't she a beaut?
I just finished with a long session at the keys- Madds, you will be happy to know that your teaching has not been forgotten!
August 29, 2010
Opening My Mouth
"Open your mouth for those who cannot speak; for the rights of all the unfortunate. Open your mouth; judge righteously, and defend the rights of the afflicted and the needy."I have a confession. Since I have been in Africa, I haven't thought much about the repeated phrase of this passage. When I was still in Charlottesville, speaking on behalf of orphans with intellectual disabilities was pretty much all I was able do for them, and so I thought about it a lot. Now that I am here, and faced with a thousand needs that require much more than words to meet, I haven't thought much about the 'speaking' aspect of the call that is on my life.
Proverbs 31:8-9 (emphasis mine)
The thing is, 'opening my mouth' is actually the first and primary thing I am called to do. Now that I'm here, however, it has taken on a whole new meaning (are you noticing the same trend I am?). I have actually met those who cannot speak. I have looked into the eyes of the unfortunate. I have been with the afflicted and the needy. Speaking with passion about an idea or concept is one thing; but defending the rights of people you love is quite another.
'Opening my mouth' has also taken on a new meaning because I have learned there are people who don't actually like it when I do. I now understand why Solomon had to firmly command it twice in this passage- it is not the easy thing to do most of the time. The easy thing to do would be to sit here in Africa and pretend like the way the rest of the world lives is just fine. The less complicated thing to do would be to continue meeting people who are dying of easily preventable causes and act like no one is to blame. The effortless thing to do would be to simply shut my mouth and let those who cannot speak, the unfortunate, the afflicted and the needy remain just as they are. It would certainly cut out of my life a lot of the hard conversations, tense emails, and uncomfortable blog posts...
Reality is, as far as I can read and understand in Scripture, it's not fine. Someone is to blame. And simply shutting my mouth so as remove a bit of difficulty from my life would be an utter failure on my part.
And if 'opening my mouth' sounds a bit like judgment- it should. It's a command of this passage as well. It's the really hard part; the remarkably complicated thing to do; the aspect that takes a lot of effort. That does not mean we are not called to do it. I used the first person plural ('we,' for those of you not dealing with grammar these days) on purpose- this verse is not addressed to me. As far as I can read, it doesn't have qualifiers attached- it is a command to the people of God to care for the poor.
Part of doing so is to recognize when the opposite is going on and to have the boldness to call it out. The Hebrew word used here, shapat- 'to execute judgment,' is also used to mean the same thing in another passage-
"These are the things that you shall do: Speak the truth to one another, render in your gates judgments that are true..."In an effort to open my mouth to speak truth to you all, and to render judgments that are righteous and true- I will keep having hard conversations, sending tense emails, and writing uncomfortable blog posts. I know that I will mess it up along the way; and I will go overboard more often than necessary. But, I guess if nothing else, you can consider yourself warned.
Zechariah 8:16
August 27, 2010
Verbs, Verbs, Verbs
So this week, we have had some sickness going on in our house, and since I did not catch the bug- I have been spending a lot of time studying. I have been studying Hebrew for the past four months, and this week, I finally made it to the section on verbs. And when I say section, I actually mean an entire 2/3 of my big textbook. Apparently, there are like 2 verbs per verse in the Hebrew Bible, and so I guess that means I will be studying them from now until...well, a long time.
Now that I am learning verbs, however, I am able to do a bit more actual translating, which has been really fun. An obstacle I have come across, though- I find that when I translate, I am always tempted to rearrange things, or slightly twist them in order to make them fit the way I think they should. Don't we have the tendency to do that? To bend just a bit, or adjust only slightly so that things work the way we want them to?
I have found that while that may work for some people for some things, it just doesn't work when it comes to the Bible. For whatever reason, God chose His Word to be written in Hebrew. He chose the actual words to be just as they are. He ordered them in such a way to mean something. I don't get to decide; I don't even get to understand all the time- I just get to read.
And so read I will. Although it takes me 15 charts, about 100 flashcards, and a lexicon to do it- read I will. And study my verbs, of course.
Now that I am learning verbs, however, I am able to do a bit more actual translating, which has been really fun. An obstacle I have come across, though- I find that when I translate, I am always tempted to rearrange things, or slightly twist them in order to make them fit the way I think they should. Don't we have the tendency to do that? To bend just a bit, or adjust only slightly so that things work the way we want them to?
I have found that while that may work for some people for some things, it just doesn't work when it comes to the Bible. For whatever reason, God chose His Word to be written in Hebrew. He chose the actual words to be just as they are. He ordered them in such a way to mean something. I don't get to decide; I don't even get to understand all the time- I just get to read.
And so read I will. Although it takes me 15 charts, about 100 flashcards, and a lexicon to do it- read I will. And study my verbs, of course.
August 20, 2010
What it Really Means
I said goodbye to my family about 4 months ago. It was hard; it was painful; it made the whole 'moving to Africa' thing real. In hindsight, however, there is no way I could have actually known what I was saying, or what 'goodbye' actually meant.
Now that I have said goodbye again to my sister and mom, I feel I have gained newer, and more comprehensive understanding of what that word really means- and found that to say it is actually even harder; even more painful; and even more all-encompassing than it was 4 months ago.
It means that I don't get to share a room with my sister/best friend, like we did for so many years of our lives, and did for the couple of weeks while she was here. It means we don't get to help each other choose the right outfit for the day ahead, nor just the right snack to have at the just the right time. It means we don't get to do life with each other on a daily basis.
It also means that I don't get to have my mom here to make sure I am eating enough, like she has had to do for most of my life. It means we don't get to run errands together, or go grocery shopping for the dinner we are making together. It means being really far away from each other most of the time.
The reality of goodbye is heartbreaking. For all involved- it is hard; it is painful; it is very, very real. After dropping my sister and then my mom at the Lusaka Airport, I came home and just cried and slept most of the rest of the day- it was just too much too handle all at once.
But both times, I woke up, realized that the heartbreak was as inescapable as the call on my heart for orphans here in Africa, and so I turned to the only place I knew to provide guaranteed comfort and encouragement in the midst of sorrow. I opened the worn pages of the gospels, to the very passages that brought me to Zambia in the first place, and re-read them-
These are things I have found to be completely and utterly impossible for me to do- my selfish heart is in no way willing to sacrifice, lay aside, or die to the things and people I love. The only hope I have for actually doing so- and therefore, for faithfully obeying God's commands- is if He gifts me with the strength and ability to do so. His Spirit alone provides the means for holiness and godliness- it is not something I could ever muster on my own.
And what that really means is that He, alone must receive the honor, blessing, glory, and fame- for He is the only deserving. He is the only one worth the sacrifice, the cross-bearing, and the death. My prayer is that, for the sake of Himself and His Name, He would allow me to forsake all; to live a life surrendered to His will and purposes; and that, if it please Him, my treasure would be stored up in heaven, not here on this earth, to have for the eternity to come.
Now that I have said goodbye again to my sister and mom, I feel I have gained newer, and more comprehensive understanding of what that word really means- and found that to say it is actually even harder; even more painful; and even more all-encompassing than it was 4 months ago.
It means that I don't get to share a room with my sister/best friend, like we did for so many years of our lives, and did for the couple of weeks while she was here. It means we don't get to help each other choose the right outfit for the day ahead, nor just the right snack to have at the just the right time. It means we don't get to do life with each other on a daily basis.
It also means that I don't get to have my mom here to make sure I am eating enough, like she has had to do for most of my life. It means we don't get to run errands together, or go grocery shopping for the dinner we are making together. It means being really far away from each other most of the time.
The reality of goodbye is heartbreaking. For all involved- it is hard; it is painful; it is very, very real. After dropping my sister and then my mom at the Lusaka Airport, I came home and just cried and slept most of the rest of the day- it was just too much too handle all at once.
But both times, I woke up, realized that the heartbreak was as inescapable as the call on my heart for orphans here in Africa, and so I turned to the only place I knew to provide guaranteed comfort and encouragement in the midst of sorrow. I opened the worn pages of the gospels, to the very passages that brought me to Zambia in the first place, and re-read them-
If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it. For what does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses or forfeits himself?
Luke 9:23-25
Truly I say to you, there is no one who has left house or wife of brothers or parents or children for the sake of the kingdom of God who will not receive many times more in this time, and in the age to come eternal life.
Luke 18:29-30
Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. And whoever does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.Figuring out and feeling more deeply what 'goodbye' really means has, in turn, allowed me to better understand what these words really mean. To deny yourself, you actually have to sacrifice. To take up your cross, you actually have to drop everything else. To lose your life for the sake of Christ, you actually have to die.
Matthew 10:37-38
These are things I have found to be completely and utterly impossible for me to do- my selfish heart is in no way willing to sacrifice, lay aside, or die to the things and people I love. The only hope I have for actually doing so- and therefore, for faithfully obeying God's commands- is if He gifts me with the strength and ability to do so. His Spirit alone provides the means for holiness and godliness- it is not something I could ever muster on my own.
And what that really means is that He, alone must receive the honor, blessing, glory, and fame- for He is the only deserving. He is the only one worth the sacrifice, the cross-bearing, and the death. My prayer is that, for the sake of Himself and His Name, He would allow me to forsake all; to live a life surrendered to His will and purposes; and that, if it please Him, my treasure would be stored up in heaven, not here on this earth, to have for the eternity to come.
August 9, 2010
Guest Post from Mom!
Hello from Sue, here in Lusaka! After over 24 hours of travelling, I decided I still don't like to fly. But I, and my 3 large suitcases made it to Zambia safely- and I didn't even get charged for an extra bag!
Beth knows me very well, and so allowed me to take a shower the minute we got back to the house. While taking a rest, the girls cooked me a fabulous Martha Stewart birthday dinner, consisting of pasta with chicken and eggplant, a yummy salad, and a caramel cake! The next day, we were off to the Zambezi River- chock full of hippos, elephants (we saw at least 50!), and lots of birds. We even saw one croc- pretty scary. It was a gorgeous, sunny, breezy day- and for the first time in 30 years, my hair wasn't frizzy.
On our drive south, we saw several Zambian tribal villages. It was shocking to see some of the conditions people live in, but I guess it makes sense since 70% of the Zambian population is unemployed. Beth told me that the average income is less than $2 a day! However, things are very expensive. I'm learning a lot...
Last night we had a chick-flick extravaganza (I'm sure Allen really feels like he missed out), complete with popcorn, cake, Mike and Ikes (I brought Beth a 5 lb bag!), and Sleepless in Seattle. They don't have a TV, so we all gathered round the computer screen to watch.
Today began with my wonderful daughters bringing me coffee in bed, and then a day out around town in Lusaka. We went to a cute cafe for brunch, and while we were there, we set up my Facebook account (yes, I finally caved). Then, we went to a cultural craft marketplace, where families live and sell their crafts. We got some paper jewelry and baskets for Beth's room. After that, we went to the mall, where they have a few stores that remind you of a mixture of Pier 1/Target/Super Walmart. The grocery store was very interesting, and very hard to tell how much things cost. I am currently working out a formula to figure it out, you know me, I am math girl through and through.
We had lunch at Curry in a Hurry- it's funny that I only eat Indian food when I am outside of the continental US, but it was very yummy. Now, we are having a relaxing afternoon on the patio. I do find it interesting that Beth's house is surrounded by a 10 ft cement wall that has glass shards stuck in the top, as well as a four tier electric fence on top of that. I guess that means we are safe. Not to mention, the two South African mastiff puppies who roam around the yard.
Here are some pictures for you all to enjoy...
Beth knows me very well, and so allowed me to take a shower the minute we got back to the house. While taking a rest, the girls cooked me a fabulous Martha Stewart birthday dinner, consisting of pasta with chicken and eggplant, a yummy salad, and a caramel cake! The next day, we were off to the Zambezi River- chock full of hippos, elephants (we saw at least 50!), and lots of birds. We even saw one croc- pretty scary. It was a gorgeous, sunny, breezy day- and for the first time in 30 years, my hair wasn't frizzy.
On our drive south, we saw several Zambian tribal villages. It was shocking to see some of the conditions people live in, but I guess it makes sense since 70% of the Zambian population is unemployed. Beth told me that the average income is less than $2 a day! However, things are very expensive. I'm learning a lot...
Last night we had a chick-flick extravaganza (I'm sure Allen really feels like he missed out), complete with popcorn, cake, Mike and Ikes (I brought Beth a 5 lb bag!), and Sleepless in Seattle. They don't have a TV, so we all gathered round the computer screen to watch.
Today began with my wonderful daughters bringing me coffee in bed, and then a day out around town in Lusaka. We went to a cute cafe for brunch, and while we were there, we set up my Facebook account (yes, I finally caved). Then, we went to a cultural craft marketplace, where families live and sell their crafts. We got some paper jewelry and baskets for Beth's room. After that, we went to the mall, where they have a few stores that remind you of a mixture of Pier 1/Target/Super Walmart. The grocery store was very interesting, and very hard to tell how much things cost. I am currently working out a formula to figure it out, you know me, I am math girl through and through.
We had lunch at Curry in a Hurry- it's funny that I only eat Indian food when I am outside of the continental US, but it was very yummy. Now, we are having a relaxing afternoon on the patio. I do find it interesting that Beth's house is surrounded by a 10 ft cement wall that has glass shards stuck in the top, as well as a four tier electric fence on top of that. I guess that means we are safe. Not to mention, the two South African mastiff puppies who roam around the yard.
Here are some pictures for you all to enjoy...
August 6, 2010
Bailey Girls' Weekend
The last weekend we had together was Easter in C-Ville, when we went to all our favorite restaurants and even on our favorite hike at White Oak Canyon- all things we had done together a million times.
This weekend, however, will be completely different as it starts out with Emily and I picking up Mom at the Lusaka International Airport (she will have been traveling for about 30 hours). We will then bring her home for a nice nap while Emily and I cook dinner and make her a caramel cake, since today is her birthday! Sunday we will be going for a boat ride on the Lower Zambezi River, where we will see hippos, crocs, and elephants out in the wild. Monday, we plan to have a fun day exploring Lusaka, and then we will end the night (and our fun weekend together) with a meal out at a yummy, new cafe.
From there, we will say 'goodbye for now' to Emily on Tuesday, and then it's just me and my Momma for another week and a half! Pray for her safe travels, and for her time here- the Lord has been bringing Africa into her peripheral vision for a while now, so I am excited to see how He uses this amazing place in her heart and life.
Some pics from our last Bailey Girls' Weekend-
This weekend, however, will be completely different as it starts out with Emily and I picking up Mom at the Lusaka International Airport (she will have been traveling for about 30 hours). We will then bring her home for a nice nap while Emily and I cook dinner and make her a caramel cake, since today is her birthday! Sunday we will be going for a boat ride on the Lower Zambezi River, where we will see hippos, crocs, and elephants out in the wild. Monday, we plan to have a fun day exploring Lusaka, and then we will end the night (and our fun weekend together) with a meal out at a yummy, new cafe.
From there, we will say 'goodbye for now' to Emily on Tuesday, and then it's just me and my Momma for another week and a half! Pray for her safe travels, and for her time here- the Lord has been bringing Africa into her peripheral vision for a while now, so I am excited to see how He uses this amazing place in her heart and life.
Some pics from our last Bailey Girls' Weekend-
August 3, 2010
Tucka Luv
Oh Maggie. There are so many moments during the day that I wish I could get inside that Buggy brain of hers and understand what is going on. Whether it's things she says (or doesn't say), or things she does (or doesn't do)- there are just so many things I cannot figure out about her.
For example- lately Mags has begun saying a particular phrase. At first, she only said it when a good song would come on the iPod. But then, she began inserting it into random times of the day as well. I have asked her several times to explain its meaning, and have even interrogated Sam to see if he knew anything about its derivative or connotation. Maggie's reply consisted of a wide-eyed stare and two kisses. Sam responded by explaining that it just means "Tucka Luv." Very helpful, I know.
Figuring out the complex meaning and emotion behind this phrase is only one of the many facets of figuring out, knowing, and loving Maggie. The reality is- I will never figure her out, or ever get it right. Most likely, I will not ever get to know what's behind the phrase, at least not on this side of eternity. Maybe there will be a day when I get to ask her to explain it all, and when she will be able to describe every detail- just maybe there will be a day when we are able to communicate with each other in a way that we both understand.
But for now, I will delight in the glimpses of understanding the Lord has given me. For those of you who know her know that it is an absolute privilege to be let into the world of Mags- even if your time there only lasts a few minutes. For now, I will take those minutes whenever she chooses to give them to me, and pray that the Lord would continue to give me insight into speaking her language so that she might know how much I really love her. As she might say (but then again, I may be using the phrase out of context), so that she might know how much a tucka luv her.
For example- lately Mags has begun saying a particular phrase. At first, she only said it when a good song would come on the iPod. But then, she began inserting it into random times of the day as well. I have asked her several times to explain its meaning, and have even interrogated Sam to see if he knew anything about its derivative or connotation. Maggie's reply consisted of a wide-eyed stare and two kisses. Sam responded by explaining that it just means "Tucka Luv." Very helpful, I know.
Figuring out the complex meaning and emotion behind this phrase is only one of the many facets of figuring out, knowing, and loving Maggie. The reality is- I will never figure her out, or ever get it right. Most likely, I will not ever get to know what's behind the phrase, at least not on this side of eternity. Maybe there will be a day when I get to ask her to explain it all, and when she will be able to describe every detail- just maybe there will be a day when we are able to communicate with each other in a way that we both understand.
But for now, I will delight in the glimpses of understanding the Lord has given me. For those of you who know her know that it is an absolute privilege to be let into the world of Mags- even if your time there only lasts a few minutes. For now, I will take those minutes whenever she chooses to give them to me, and pray that the Lord would continue to give me insight into speaking her language so that she might know how much I really love her. As she might say (but then again, I may be using the phrase out of context), so that she might know how much a tucka luv her.
July 29, 2010
Sapita Guest Post
Well Hello All,
It is the baby sister of Beth. I have been in Zambia for about one and a half days now and it has been wonderful! To back track a little bit my travels went very smoothly, and I even ran into an old friend from Young Life Summer-Staff on the same flight from South Africa to Zambia (such a God moment because that was the main part of my travels that I was nervous about, PTL.) After I had a very warm welcome from Beth and the whole Nelson-clan at the airport we headed to the crocodile farm in the big ole' Special Hope truck. There we looked at some of the most-deadly snakes in Africa (terrifying), a guinea pig that was not there by the end of our trip (snakes, guinea pigs...the circle of life ya dig?), and crocodiles right at feeding time. The crocodiles were eating rotten chickens that were donated by a local farm. At one point a chicken literally exploded the minute it hit the crocodile's teeth shooting organs, blood, and feathers everywhere. CRIKEY, it was a sight. Then we had a lovely snack and headed home. As many of you know us sapis very well, I immediately fell asleep in the car. Then a lovely evening at home watching casino royale, well for me sleeping through casino royale waking up only to the sound of "em, do you want a cookie?"
This morning we woke up, ate muffins (MU-FFIN), then headed out for the day. We ran a few errands then went for some serious special hope-ness. We met Nancy, a very helpful translator, who knew of some families that had children with disabilities. She took us to Joseph who was an 18 year old boy who was not able to walk and had cognitive disabilities. It was very exciting to see Eric, Holly, Beth, Sam, Maggie, and Mollie do the work that God has sent them here to do. Holly and Eric asked all the important questions to the mother, Beth snapped some pictures and helped with Maggie and Mollie, Sam was his ever-so-friendly self with Joseph, and I somewhat sat back and took it all in.
Then we headed to another family who had a sweet 13 year old boy who really didn't talk much. The Special Hope team did their magic once again and we were then off to Nancy's house to visit. As we walked into her house there was possibly the cutest baby ever named Loti. I held him the whole time we were there and it soon got late so we had to go home. While dinner was being made Eric asked me a few questions to get my marketing-mind going-"how would you market Special Hope?" We chatted it out a little and right now here is who I have on my list to email, as the Special Hope Research Intern: The Passion 2011 conference for the "Do Something Now" campaign, Sarah Palin, Watoto organization in Uganda, and George Foreman (to sell a Special Hope edition of a George Foreman grill. Any others you can think of?
It is the baby sister of Beth. I have been in Zambia for about one and a half days now and it has been wonderful! To back track a little bit my travels went very smoothly, and I even ran into an old friend from Young Life Summer-Staff on the same flight from South Africa to Zambia (such a God moment because that was the main part of my travels that I was nervous about, PTL.) After I had a very warm welcome from Beth and the whole Nelson-clan at the airport we headed to the crocodile farm in the big ole' Special Hope truck. There we looked at some of the most-deadly snakes in Africa (terrifying), a guinea pig that was not there by the end of our trip (snakes, guinea pigs...the circle of life ya dig?), and crocodiles right at feeding time. The crocodiles were eating rotten chickens that were donated by a local farm. At one point a chicken literally exploded the minute it hit the crocodile's teeth shooting organs, blood, and feathers everywhere. CRIKEY, it was a sight. Then we had a lovely snack and headed home. As many of you know us sapis very well, I immediately fell asleep in the car. Then a lovely evening at home watching casino royale, well for me sleeping through casino royale waking up only to the sound of "em, do you want a cookie?"
This morning we woke up, ate muffins (MU-FFIN), then headed out for the day. We ran a few errands then went for some serious special hope-ness. We met Nancy, a very helpful translator, who knew of some families that had children with disabilities. She took us to Joseph who was an 18 year old boy who was not able to walk and had cognitive disabilities. It was very exciting to see Eric, Holly, Beth, Sam, Maggie, and Mollie do the work that God has sent them here to do. Holly and Eric asked all the important questions to the mother, Beth snapped some pictures and helped with Maggie and Mollie, Sam was his ever-so-friendly self with Joseph, and I somewhat sat back and took it all in.
Then we headed to another family who had a sweet 13 year old boy who really didn't talk much. The Special Hope team did their magic once again and we were then off to Nancy's house to visit. As we walked into her house there was possibly the cutest baby ever named Loti. I held him the whole time we were there and it soon got late so we had to go home. While dinner was being made Eric asked me a few questions to get my marketing-mind going-"how would you market Special Hope?" We chatted it out a little and right now here is who I have on my list to email, as the Special Hope Research Intern: The Passion 2011 conference for the "Do Something Now" campaign, Sarah Palin, Watoto organization in Uganda, and George Foreman (to sell a Special Hope edition of a George Foreman grill. Any others you can think of?
July 27, 2010
Sapi-Doo-Hondra
Tomorrow, my sister arrives for a two-week visit...WOOOHOOO! There is no one in the world quite like my Sapi (the nickname we gave each other- well, the one my mom gave us a long time ago, I brought back, then Emily stole, then Sam modified with the Doo-Hondra at the end), and I am so excited to share with her this crazy life I currently live. Pray for our time together, would you? Pictures to come, I'm sure, but for now, here are some random ones of us from days past...
Sapis at the C-Ville City Market (oh how I miss you)
Sapis at Graduation
Sapis in Charleston
Sapis take an intense walk down Avon St (thanks to Dad-O for all the hair).
Sapis at the C-Ville City Market (oh how I miss you)
Sapis at Graduation
Sapis in Charleston
Sapis take an intense walk down Avon St (thanks to Dad-O for all the hair).
July 20, 2010
"You are now a Zambian Woman!"
My friend Nancy may have said this to me today, but I assure you I am not actually a Zambian woman. Compared to Zambian women, I am an absolutely non-skilled, lame excuse for a woman. Here's how I found this to be true-
Nancy (our language/culture tutor extraordinaire, not to mention one of our closest Zambian friends) gave me a cooking lesson today. Now, a lot of you American friends know that I consider myself not-too-shabby when it comes to kitchen skills. The cooking lesson I received today, however, was filled with tips never to be found on Epicurious.com nor Martha Stewart's Everyday Food blog- since neither seem to be catering to an impoverished African audience.
While I was at her house, Ba Nance showed me how to light a fire on the mbaula (small brassier), using small sticks and malasha (wood charcoal). Then, moving into the kitchen (dangerous, right?), we started on the process of making nshima- the staple Zambian dish made of unga (cornmeal, known as mealie meal). Here are some pics from the process...
Mollie and I, eager to learn/eat.
Step 1: Put cornmeal through a sieve to remove unwanted bugs (as opposed to the ones you cook and serve atop the nshima when it's done). Then, add boiling water.
Step 2: Bring porridge to a boil over charcoal, and let it cook "until you know it's done." How do you know it's done? "You just know." Once it's done, you add more unga, and stir in a very particular way (which I never got right), until it has a much thicker consistency.
Step 3: Dip spoon in hot water and then scoop the cooked nshima into portions. Serve with ndiyo (relish of choice), then eat by using your right hand to make nshima and ndiyo into bite-size little balls.
---
My first guided-attempt at nshima was, indeed, a success. Even Moses (Nancy's son, in the picture), gave me a head nod of approval after eating his portion. So, I could have accepted Nancy's praise, and maybe even agreed with her calling me a "Zambian woman now!" I cannot, however, because of the following two reasons:
1. In the process of heating up the porridge, Ba Nance used her bare hands to remove the lid of the pot, touch the handle of the pot, and re-situate the charcoal pieces. May I remind you that all of these items were BURNING HOT- and she acted like "it was no problem." I tried to do what she did, and instantly had to pull my hand away. The entire family playfully laughed at me because I couldn't do it.
2. I could not bring myself to eat the portion of ndiyo I was given with my nshima. Like I said, ndiyo is a relish of choice- and apparently, today was the day Ba Nance chose to serve us kidneys. I took one bite, and could not stop the gag-reflex that followed. Luckily, I don't think Ba Nance saw.
Unfortunately, I have already discovered and will probably continue to discover many more reasons why I am not actually a Zambian woman, and be humbled all over again. And again. And then, probably again.
For now, I will thank God for this particular woman, Nancy, and for all the women like her that I have gotten to know. What a privilege for me to spend time with them, visit their homes, and just to be their friend. I pray they continue to be patient with me as I learn from them all about this wonderful place called Zambia.
Nancy (our language/culture tutor extraordinaire, not to mention one of our closest Zambian friends) gave me a cooking lesson today. Now, a lot of you American friends know that I consider myself not-too-shabby when it comes to kitchen skills. The cooking lesson I received today, however, was filled with tips never to be found on Epicurious.com nor Martha Stewart's Everyday Food blog- since neither seem to be catering to an impoverished African audience.
While I was at her house, Ba Nance showed me how to light a fire on the mbaula (small brassier), using small sticks and malasha (wood charcoal). Then, moving into the kitchen (dangerous, right?), we started on the process of making nshima- the staple Zambian dish made of unga (cornmeal, known as mealie meal). Here are some pics from the process...
Mollie and I, eager to learn/eat.
Step 1: Put cornmeal through a sieve to remove unwanted bugs (as opposed to the ones you cook and serve atop the nshima when it's done). Then, add boiling water.
Step 2: Bring porridge to a boil over charcoal, and let it cook "until you know it's done." How do you know it's done? "You just know." Once it's done, you add more unga, and stir in a very particular way (which I never got right), until it has a much thicker consistency.
Step 3: Dip spoon in hot water and then scoop the cooked nshima into portions. Serve with ndiyo (relish of choice), then eat by using your right hand to make nshima and ndiyo into bite-size little balls.---
My first guided-attempt at nshima was, indeed, a success. Even Moses (Nancy's son, in the picture), gave me a head nod of approval after eating his portion. So, I could have accepted Nancy's praise, and maybe even agreed with her calling me a "Zambian woman now!" I cannot, however, because of the following two reasons:
1. In the process of heating up the porridge, Ba Nance used her bare hands to remove the lid of the pot, touch the handle of the pot, and re-situate the charcoal pieces. May I remind you that all of these items were BURNING HOT- and she acted like "it was no problem." I tried to do what she did, and instantly had to pull my hand away. The entire family playfully laughed at me because I couldn't do it.
2. I could not bring myself to eat the portion of ndiyo I was given with my nshima. Like I said, ndiyo is a relish of choice- and apparently, today was the day Ba Nance chose to serve us kidneys. I took one bite, and could not stop the gag-reflex that followed. Luckily, I don't think Ba Nance saw.
Unfortunately, I have already discovered and will probably continue to discover many more reasons why I am not actually a Zambian woman, and be humbled all over again. And again. And then, probably again.
For now, I will thank God for this particular woman, Nancy, and for all the women like her that I have gotten to know. What a privilege for me to spend time with them, visit their homes, and just to be their friend. I pray they continue to be patient with me as I learn from them all about this wonderful place called Zambia.
July 16, 2010
Why it's Worth It
Of course, the day after I write about being frustrated with all the paperwork, etc- I would get to go to this place-
The Chelstone Clinic
...and get to meet this little guy-
Francis.
Is he not the most precious little man you have ever seen? He is 8 months old, and his mother found out he had Down syndrome 3 weeks ago. The volunteer physiotherapist at the clinic (where I was today) told her, since other doctors had never noticed before. We were so excited to meet this little guy, and look forward to more conversations with his parents in the future.
I do declare- I will stand in as many lines, wait in as many offices, stick in as much traffic, and attempt to get as much done as possible if it leads to more mornings with kids like Francis.
The Chelstone Clinic...and get to meet this little guy-
Francis.
Is he not the most precious little man you have ever seen? He is 8 months old, and his mother found out he had Down syndrome 3 weeks ago. The volunteer physiotherapist at the clinic (where I was today) told her, since other doctors had never noticed before. We were so excited to meet this little guy, and look forward to more conversations with his parents in the future.
I do declare- I will stand in as many lines, wait in as many offices, stick in as much traffic, and attempt to get as much done as possible if it leads to more mornings with kids like Francis.
July 15, 2010
Life as a Modern Missionary
I wish I could say it's just like the biographies I read while preparing to come here. I wish I could say it's right out of the pages of Amy Carmichael's, Jim Elliot's, David Brainerd's, or Hudson Taylor's writings. I wish I could, but I can't...
There are some similarities- learning a new language, adapting to a new culture, feeling sick a lot of the time. Those things are still a part of it, but overall, I am coming to understand that the life of a modern missionary is quite different than those lived by missionaries of the past.
This week, for example, I have gotten to spend very little time with the children I actually came here to serve. Instead, I have stood in lines, waited in offices, gotten stuck in downtown traffic, and failed at a lot of attempts to get things done. So much of me gets easily frustrated when I lay down to sleep at night without having held a single orphan that day- and so I find myself wrestling with God about how much of my time is spent doing paperwork, errands, and administration. "This is not why I came here! I am here to care for orphans, and so my time should be spent doing just that!"
Problem is, I don't actually get to care for orphans if I don't stand in the lines, wait in the offices, stick in the traffic, and attempt to get things done. Those are necessary parts of the initial work of Special Hope Network here in Zambia. And in order for me to be faithful to that which God has called me to do- I must be patient during this time.
What has me encouraged, however, is the way patience seemingly pays off here in Lusaka. About two months ago, we walked into the Toyota dealership and bought a Land Cruiser. Since then, we have probably been back to Toyota about 25 times, and gone to visit most of the Zambian government buildings in this city in order to be able to actually take the car home with us. I cannot tell you how frustrating this process has been- but today, we finally got to drive away from Toyota with the truck. It was incredibly exciting, and a big milestone for Special Hope.
Probably not something that the old missionaries celebrated- but we, as modern missionaries, celebrate indeed God's providing this car, and it finally making its way through all the red-tape and into our driveway.
There are some similarities- learning a new language, adapting to a new culture, feeling sick a lot of the time. Those things are still a part of it, but overall, I am coming to understand that the life of a modern missionary is quite different than those lived by missionaries of the past.
This week, for example, I have gotten to spend very little time with the children I actually came here to serve. Instead, I have stood in lines, waited in offices, gotten stuck in downtown traffic, and failed at a lot of attempts to get things done. So much of me gets easily frustrated when I lay down to sleep at night without having held a single orphan that day- and so I find myself wrestling with God about how much of my time is spent doing paperwork, errands, and administration. "This is not why I came here! I am here to care for orphans, and so my time should be spent doing just that!"
Problem is, I don't actually get to care for orphans if I don't stand in the lines, wait in the offices, stick in the traffic, and attempt to get things done. Those are necessary parts of the initial work of Special Hope Network here in Zambia. And in order for me to be faithful to that which God has called me to do- I must be patient during this time.
What has me encouraged, however, is the way patience seemingly pays off here in Lusaka. About two months ago, we walked into the Toyota dealership and bought a Land Cruiser. Since then, we have probably been back to Toyota about 25 times, and gone to visit most of the Zambian government buildings in this city in order to be able to actually take the car home with us. I cannot tell you how frustrating this process has been- but today, we finally got to drive away from Toyota with the truck. It was incredibly exciting, and a big milestone for Special Hope.
Probably not something that the old missionaries celebrated- but we, as modern missionaries, celebrate indeed God's providing this car, and it finally making its way through all the red-tape and into our driveway.
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