In a mirror dimly

This summer David and I traveled to Africa on a mission trip and we had an amazing experience.  The thing with trips like that one is that months later you come across a picture and realize that something inside you has changed.  You look differently not only at those in the picture from around the world, but it prods at your gut knowing you've seen yourself differently.

We took this photo, and I say we, because out of the 3000++ pics we took its a blur whose is whose at this point.

It was so wonderful watching these young boys play in the water, swimming and splashing each other.  They were so happy.  As we snapped these pictures our friend, Rury, one of the staffed missionaries told us he loves to watch the kids come out of their shells.  You see, school was out for holiday, usually a month's time off, and these boys go across the river to stay during that whole month to tend to the cattle there.  They are without parents or grandparents or guardian's supervision.  (Some urban moms just gasped and swallowed their gum.)  But this is a good thing that they are not supervised.  Rury told us that when the boys are back in school and back in their huts with their families that the culture in the village is to tell these kids how stupid they are, how they'll never amount to anything.  Day after day after minute after minute they are told that their worth is nothing.  Rury talks about how their demeanor changes the moment they cross back over the river and their feet become dusty with village soil.  They walk with blank stares, solemn and angry.  Our  friend, Percy, has talked so much about wanting to save the youth of his village many times.  Now I see it.  Most young boys grow up in the village dependent on the local beer that is sold here and have no ambition to do anything.  It's quite sad.  It made us cry as we looked out on this moment.  I was frozen there, imagining what they must feel at this very moment and imagining the pain in their hearts when they know they must return.  Visions of the Lost Boys from Peter Pan fly through my mind.  Oh, why can't Neverland be real for them.  It changed the view for me.  My horizon widened from the river banks to the village streets to the huts tucked behind the bar.  I pray that these children never forget to laugh like this.  I pray they never forget to play and splash around in their lives.  I pray they know that Jesus loves them and that their Heavenly Father finds them worthy, so worthy.  I pray the cycle of trash talking the children stops.

As I looked back on the Africa trip pictures the other day then to my own family pics, there it was.  The prodding in my own gut.  The parallels of African riverbanks to my own threshold in my home.  But this time, I'm the bully.  And my victim is myself.  Every morning I wake up to the same reflection in my mirror.  I'm disappointed in what she looks like.  Gray hair.  Wrinkles.  Large, flabby upper arms.  Spare tire around the middle.  I cry if I look too long and dwell on how I've come to see myself.  But there I am every damn day of my life trash talking myself.  It's disgusting what thoughts I let run through my brain and directly to my heart.  If I talked like that to anyone else besides myself I would be arrested for a hate crime.  

It hit me.  It hit me hard.  I was no better than those people who brought down those boys with their nasty attitudes and hateful words.  The tears I shed for them on the banks of the Zambezi rolled down the cheeks of my soul to rest there preserving that feeling for the time I would wake up, realizing what I was doing to myself.  I could taste the salt of my tears months later.  I needed to stop.  

I am worthy.  The Holy Spirit resides in my heart. Christ sent the comforter to me.  I've been fat talking myself to the point where I couldn't see my own worth anymore.  With the help of some amazing women, I am making my way back to loving myself.  Changing my thought processes about how I view me, food, exercise, etc.  I pray that I haven't damaged my daughter's view of herself as she has watched me fat talk my perception of me.  I would kick my ass if I thought I was giving her the wrong impression of herself.

So no more fat talk.  No more unworthy attitudes.  Stop the madness.  No excuses.  I am worthy.

2 Timothy 2:15 ESV

Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who has no need to be ashamed, rightly handling the word of truth.

Romans 8:5 ESV

For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit.

Dear Heavenly Father, forgive me for dwelling on something so superficial.  This is not your plan for me.  It is not glorifying you, it is glorifying me in a weird, sick way.  Help me let go of this skewed view of myself and cherish this physical shell and take care of it the way it's meant to be.  I want to be useful in Your will.  Focus my eyes on you and understand my worthiness through your eyes and not my own.  Thank you, Father, for giving me life, breath, health.

Just wait... they're coming.

Sisheke.  Oh my. You feel called to Mwandi, specifically, but then you realize the world is a large place with needs to be met everywhere you go. According to the end of Matthew 28, we are called to make disciples while going not called to go.  We go because we believe in Jesus’ call on our lives to love our neighbor when we first come to believe and ask Jesus into our hearts.  So, as we’ve been going during this trip and trying to not only participate in God’s work here but also to be as observant as possible many things come to my attention.  Probably too many to list.  Wonder if google glasses will have the ability to freeze frame all of the memories that entices my brain so that I can go back through my day and be able to remember all of those things that made me stop and say, “wow”?  Somebody call google.  I’m busy.

Percy has eluded many times to the South African culture, mainly the Western Province of Zambia as a mystic people.  Something we don’t embrace much in the states in our own personalities.  But the bible talks about surrealism, the good kind, not the vampire romance kind.  Why is it so hard for us as Americans to believe in the Spirit world?  Sounds new agey, huh?  I have seen the Zambian culture reference many times the things of the spirit and of the Spirit.  It’s just the lines being blurred or the fact that there’s probably just one Lozi word for both and people here mistake one for the other.  But when you come here to love people where they are you realize the beauty in the mysticism of the Zambians.  As Americans, we tend to rely heavily on the knowledge of things, even biblical or spiritual things.  We research it, we read about it, we ask about it, we debate about it, we kill the mysticism of our spirituality.  There was nothing intelligent about Acts 2:1-13.  In that, I mean not one of those filled with the Holy Spirit stopped the Spirit to debate with the bystanders about whether or not this was actually the Spirit and should they go ahead with letting it happen.  Sometimes that flutter in your belly or that quickening of your heartbeat really is God exciting you for the world around you.  He’s beckoning you to speak truth in someone’s life.  He’s calling you to reach out to your neighbor.  It’s not always a need for a call to the doctor to see if you need to up your meds for some condition you may be suffering.  Do you think when we arrive at the pearly gates St. Peter is going to be shaking his head?  “You were called the frozen chosen because you medicated yourself into apathy.”  I’m not down playing anyone’s medical condition, I’m just pointing out that we can be a little too over cautious about jumping in when God wants us too when it takes us out of our comfort zone and plunges us deep into the Spirit.

Doug preached twice yesterday.  Yea, you guys just thought you had it bad.  LOL!!!  Just kidding!  The preaching duo team of Doug and his interpreter, Percy is an amazing thing to listen to…. even twice in one day!  We were in church in the morning at Living Sword Ministries in Sisheke, Zambia.  Church started at 9:30.  We arrived at 10.  Doug didn’t preach until at least 11:30 or after I think.  I honestly didn’t even look at the time until we got in the car and Abby and I looked at the clock and realized that it was almost 2:30.  So I’m totally guessing on the time that he started his sermon.  Let’s just say that here in Africa they love to worship with music and songs and prayer and an occasional sermon in the middle somewhere.  Doug brought the Word to a very dry and thirsty crowd that soaked it all up.  The congregation was beautiful.  The music was AHmazing!  It was a soaking session in the Holy Spirit for sure.  Full of mysticism and solid truth being preached.  The best of both worlds, theirs and ours.

Before the evening crusade was to begin, the pastor of Living Sword was adamant on letting us get to our accommodations and resting up for the crusade later that night.  He realized that it was getting late and hurried us back to rest about 430.  We all set our alarms for 515 to be up and ready by 530.  The pastor and elders were to return to brief the men on what was going to happen that night.  530 came.  6 came. 630 came. Noone.  Oh boy, was the sermon that morning too truthful?  Was no one wanting us to come back?  We were all ready and waiting.  Turns out after some texting back and forth that the pastor knew we had gotten back late so he decided to give us extra time to rest up, but had neglected to tell us that piece of information.  You see, here in Africa, you arrive when you’re ready.  You rest until you feel its time to go and get started.  In America, we place demands on our time to show up when we say it should start whether we’re rested or ready or not.  I think we may have to start moving when we’re ready not when its time according to the clock.  It goes against everything in my veins to switch that around.  I’ve never had someone intentionally give me extra time to rest up knowing I was tired and hold back the event just so I could be ready to receive.  Lord, forgive me.  I want margin in my life to rest in order to receive.

The crusade itself was breathtaking.  They meet at the local basic school campus on Sunday mornings, so for the crusade they used the futbol fields out back.  It was set with a stage and power for microphones and keyboard and lights!  It was freezing cold, too!  People were bundled up in their blankets and winter hats!  The local church members and local townspeople showed up around 7:30.  We were there by 8, maybe.  Time is different here.  We were met with lots of dancing and worship music and then Doug brought it home again with the message of Restoration in Christ.  I couldn’t see the number of people that were actually there because it was dark, but when Percy asked if anyone wanted to pray for Jesus to come into their hearts there were 60+ people coming from out of the shadows!  Young, really young and old came from places we couldn’t even see.  Doug said there were townspeople out in the shadows way back there with flashlights listening to the sermon and music.  It was surreal.  It was mystic.  It was definitely the Holy Spirit.  Each person was prayed for right then and there one by one.  Each had their own story of what they needed prayer for in their lives.  Some young boys who struggle with alcohol addiction.  A lady who didn’t want to be a prostitute anymore.  One young man who was alone and HIV positive.  Christ was alive in that moment and in the lives of those who wanted to know him.  I love my time in Mwandi, but this time in Sisheke was life altering.

Yesterday was also a big day in the states.  Did you hear the fanfare and see the celebratory parties?  Yes, my youngest turned 14 yesterday without her parents.  It was an odd feeling.  I’ve never missed a birthday for her.  She had a great one and will continue to celebrate through next weekend when her second party will take place!  I thank God for my family and friends!  They have been so amazing and wonderful in making this trip possible for us by providing for my children at home.  Sarah is so supportive of our trip and knows how much we love her.  I wish I could be more like Sarah and her journey with Jesus.  She is such an amazing young lady.  Her spirit is much like the mystic people of Zambia, open and ready to be filled with God’s grace and mercy.  She’s prepared.  She rests up.  She knows how to be filled without pretention.  She doesn’t question.  She just is.

Acts 2:12 “Amazed and perplexed, they asked one another, “What does this mean?”

Are we ready to answer this question ourselves?  Are we ready for the Holy Spirit to just come upon us with no forewarning?  Rest up!  Be ready.  It’s going to be amazing.

It's time to wake up. It's 7 o'clock in the morning. (British Accents only)

Adjustments.  Adjusting to the time change.  Adjusting to the weather.  Adjusting to the cuisine.  Adjusting to a new bed.  Adjusting to the British lady's voice on my African cell phone waking us up in the morning.  Adjusting to someone else doing my laundry (can I get an AMEN?).  Adjusting to being so far from home and family and friends.  I could go on and on, but you get the picture.  Everything is an adjustment.  You just wake up in the morning, when the clock says its morning, and just go with the flow.  No expectations.

Our days are full of the OVC, the agriculture center, Live School retreat, staff counseling, devotions and just whatever we can get into that looks fun, which is pretty much anything around here.  When you have no idea what is being said or how people are reacting to you being there it frees you from any pre judging on your part.  It leaves the field wide open for me to be happy within my own skin and focus on the people around me and the task at hand rather than my own self awareness.  It’s amazingly free.  Everyone says hello here.  Not the southern hello, bless your heart kind of hello but the sincere hello, hey stop and let’s talk about the day kind of hello.  Adjustments to sincerity, both in those around me and in myself.  Feels good.  But truthfully, being sincere with myself has helped me to understand the sincerity of those nearby and I’m sure I have been missing out on those beautifully sincere people back at home by my preoccupation with self.

Jet-lag is not for sissies, by the way.  If you have never traveled internationally or to another time zone altogether, then you’re missing out on this lovely physical reality called jet-lag.  Ick.  It’s a lot like altitude sickness to me. Headache, queasiness, dehydration, loss of sleep, etc.  It’s a joyful time had by all….NOT!  I didn’t realize it would take quite so long to adjust to the time difference.  Don’t know how people do it working nights instead of days.  It’s got to be a similar change.  Adjusting.  By Sunday evening my body seemed to have adjusted to the time and I slept the first good night’s sleep since we left.  Just in time for our week to start.

I’ve met a wonderful lady, Anna, who heads up the sewing center at the OVC (Orphans and Vulnerable Children Center).  The first day I showed up she asked me what I was going to teach them.  No pressure, right?  I helped cut out patterns for the bags they sell to raise money for their sewing center the first morning, but by afternoon was sewing with Anna!  I was a little nervous walking in and seeing a dozen treadle sewing machines lining the room and thinking, “uh oh, I am going to sew my fingers together!”  Thankfully she has two electric machines that she and I used for the bags.  The treadles are for the students since most do not have electricity in their homes, so what they learn here is what they can use at home someday.  Adjustments.

David has really jumped right into his duties here.  He’s helping out at the agricultural center and is even doing devotionals with the guys.  He said it’s good to get out of his comfort zone.  My husband is an amazing human. 

Funny though, he finds this pace painfully slow and frustrating at times when you just lean on the shovel waiting for the gravel to arrive, that may not make it til afternoon or tomorrow or whenever.  He says next time he wants to bring a watch.  I don’t think that will make it better personally.  Adjustments.  God is good.  He is faithful.  He is merciful.  He likes to hand out the adjustments.  My hubby is handling his very well.

Most residents of the village do not have electricity or running water in their homes or huts.  It is, however, such an odd sight to see a tv or some other electronic device hooked up to some places that look like they’d fall down if a big wind came.  Everyone without water must walk to the river or to the wells in their areas and carry their water back in large containers.  It’s carried mostly on their heads.  Adjustments?  I would need a chiropractic adjustment if I tried to do that.  Maybe I’ll try with something a little less weighty.

Everyone adjusts to doing whatever it is you must do to get the necessities taken care of around here.  It really is that way everywhere, but here it’s such a simple life it seems a lot easier to see how adjustments are made.  No one talks about how to adjust, why to adjust, the right procedure to adjust, if someone should seek counsel on the right adjustments, they just adjust.  Adjustments.  But is it always a good idea to just adjust?  Should a person just give up and do what everyone else is doing?  Is the adjustment good for those around you?  Or are you adjusting for the convenience of self?

If God calls us friend and calls us to Love one another, what adjustments must happen in our lives to make this possible to be Love to each other?  We do nothing to deserve the Love of our Heavenly Father and all he asks in return is to Love each other.  

Our devotionals came from John 15:15-17

I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his mater’s business.  Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you.  You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit – fruit that will last – and so that whatever you ask in my name the Father will give you.  This is my command:  Love each other.

The birth of a believer

Blessed.  Yep.  That’s how I feel this very moment.  Sitting alongside the Zambezi River in Mwandi, Zambia listening to the bugs and the birds sing the evening into existence.  The air is dry, but so very cool and the breeze teases.  Pulling into the village this evening was so surreal.  How did we get here?  What are we doing here?  Dear Heavenly Father, are you sure you we’re the ones you meant to call?  All of these questions enter in and out of my mind while taking in the view of this amazing people.  The hustle and bustle of villagers on the road, the smiles and waves by the children as we pass through, all quiets the questions of why.  I am humbled and honored at the faith of those who invested in this trip for us, financially and prayerfully and reluctantly, for some.  We left this totally up to God to show us how and he certainly provided a way.  I was delightfully curious to see how all hands play a part in one person’s life, like a kid staring through the glass at the bakery.  It’s a wonderful sight watching the hands and feet of God prepare you for your trip across the world to a place some have never seen and never will see.  Faith.

We started out four days ago stepping onto the plane, trusting our instincts and praying we packed correctly.  Turns out it doesn’t matter how you pack, it matters that you lay down your nets and just follow him.  Jesus doesn’t care if your tshirt matches your pants.  Ha!  I was dressed for a two day travel adventure…yoga pants, duh.  The flights were amazing and heart pumpingly close together.  Kept us on our toes and away from scary expensive airport food.  We had not one minute to spare on our connecting flights.  The 15+ hour flight sandwiched in the middle was, well, long.  My back and shoulders argued with me for 48 hours about that airplane seat.  We arrived at our final destination in Livingstone, get this, on the day the brand new airport was being commissioned into service!  Dancers and drummers performing on the tarmac.  Airport personnel handing out free hats.  Mimosas awaiting us on the inside while we waited for our visas to be processed.  The place was beautiful!  Not at all what Doug had previewed for us.  He warned us of the small space and the heat of the building while waiting hours for our visa.  He was pleasantly surprised, although there was still only one line, one clerk processing visas…. They finally opened up another lane like Target at Christmas!  It was all good we didn’t mind standing after all of that time in our plane seats!  Although, David and his plane neighbor had quite a lovely discussion about Jesus.  I love to hear my husband get so passionate about his relationship with Christ.  It’s a beautiful thing.  I met a sweet lady on our last flight who traveled all the way from San Francisco to JFK to Johannesburg to Livingstone!  Good gracious.

Like the plane ride and the airport in Livingstone, we were also given an account of what to expect for our first few days accommodations.  I had been on their website and looked it over as well, but we had also heard from many of our friends that have done this trip before.  “A hostel” atmosphere.  “Nice, clean, modest”.  It was like when someone asks, “is she pretty?” and the answer is, “she’s nice and she’s very smart.”  Oh boy, what to expect.  Let me give you a bit of information at this point.  The UNWTO, United Nations WTO is meeting in Livingstone starting on Saturday for five days.  Dignitaries (other than us, lol) will be traveling here from the far corners of the world.  Everything in Livingstone was freshly painted and newly planted and looked fabulous, hence the commissioning of the airport.  So, we go to Fawlty Towers and check into our room.  As we put the key in and open the door I was taken aback.  What?  This can’t be our room?!  It was amazing.  Beautiful!  Newly remodeled “deluxe” rooms.  Why?  Oh heavens, we were in heaven.  We were certainly feeling like we were suffering for Jesus, NOT.  

We traveled to Victoria Falls the next day and ended the day with a sunset cruise on the Zambezi.  What a day.

Some of you at this point are thinking, “wait, what are you doing?  I thought this was a mission trip?”  I get that.  I’ve said that in the past hearing stories myself.  Seeing how God prepared the way for David and I to come and then heaped blessing upon blessing onto our trip at every corner has been so wonderful and has made our hearts so grateful watching it unfold right before our eyes.  Doug and Abby and David and I have never spent ANY uninterrupted time together, EVER.  To be heading out into the village was scary for me and exciting, but getting to know our team leader and his wife was crucial for the success of this mission.  I had to know them.  This was that time.  I thank God for how he even orchestrated that into fruition as we waited for our ride to Mwandi for four and a half hours.  TIA – This Is Africa.  No one is in a hurry here.  I could learn from that.  We should all linger in the blessings of God every once in a blue moon and prepare our hearts for the hard stuff.

Since the planning of this trip, I have had a heart of finality linger on my thoughts.  We, David and I, made sure we crossed our t’s and dotted our I’s with our families.  Making sure they knew how to function in the house, with the bills and if something should happen that would prevent our return or snatch our last breath, everyone would know what we wished for.  I know it sounds a bit morbid, but a harsh reality when you travel and leave your precious loved ones behind.  I say that to say this, I know that death hovers, but it’s not a feeling of a physical death.  It’s a sure feeling that I will die to self on this trip.  That the person that traveled here will not be returning.  It will be a different me.  Hopefully one that surrenders herself, finally and fully, to Christ’s urge of her spirit.  One that listens to the Holy Spirit more and walks in the steps ordered for her.  One that puts self aside and looks fully into the face of the Heavenly Father knowing that He is where my helps come from.  Somewhere in this trip I hope to write the obit for her and in the same breath tell you about this new life born returning home to love you more gracefully than you’ve ever known before.

1 Corinthians 13:12

¹² For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.