Today I sat in a hospital with Esther, the director of the MFHs, and Danny- a 14 year old boy, who at 68 lbs probably more resembles a 7 year old boy.
Danny, a boy who is HIV positive.
I think that the AIDS pandemic is something that we have all heard about, all read about; but in reality, know nothing about. Today, that all changed.
I sat in a hospital, waiting with Esther to see a specialist doctor who could help Danny become more mobile, as his knees and hips have been extremely sore and have stopped him from being able to attend school, as it requires walking too far. Danny doesnt know that he is HIV+, as the staff here agree that he is not mentally stable enough at the moment to cope with his reality. That news shocked me at first, how could he not know? But then I remember what Lugasi, one of the elder 2 children who had questioned me on my first full day here, had said: people hear they have HIV and just commit suicide, because it seems as if their is no hope.
But what is there no hope for? A long life? A good life?
As we waited for the specialist to come, we sat in the waiting room. A TV was playing music videos, and there was a table of magazines. I went and picked one up called "Zaran", because the cover captured me. On it was an article grieving the fact that America's PEPFAR plan (President's Emergency Plan For AIDS Relief, 2007) had stipulations that kept it from being highly effective in Zambia. Stipulations that encouraged 'Abstinence Only' sex education, instead of a comprehensive sex education that would encourage condom use in order to prevent HIV spread. In addition, the plan excludes reaching out to sex workers, of whom approximately 70% are HIV+ in Zambia.
As I read the article, my thoughts were spinning. I am all for abstinence. I think it's what God calls for when one is not in a marriage relationship. Yet, in this culture of rape and abuse, knowledge of a condom could go a long way. Plus, sooner or later (hopefully after marriage!) a couple will have sex. And what then? The article on the back page of the magazine addressed this, as the husband was HIV+ and the wife, not. With condom use they could still have a normal, husband-wife relationship; but without it, he could end up killing his love, and once again all of the children would become orphans. I am also very much against sex workers. Beyond prostitution, pornography makes me sick to my stomach when I think about the abuse that takes place during production, degregation of humanity and sexuality, and just pure slime that the industry is.... never mind what they produce and how it influences our culture. Nevertheless, even in America there are laws set up to keep pornographers somewhat 'safe' from HIV by requiring monthly testing. To have sex workers in Zambia be excluded from prevention programs and programs designed to create hope for those living with the disease seems almost inhumane. But yet, Zambia doesn't have money to invest in prevention programs, so it relies on America... and thus, it is done the American way.
Why does everything have to rely on America?
One of the other articles in the magazine highlighted the recession in America, and the effects it was having on the world-wides fight against AIDS. With the economy down in the Western World, organizations were not donating as much to the cause anymore.... and thus individuals are being pulled of ARVs.. which (like any antibiotic that you stop use of too soon) actually creates a resistance to the drug, and continued hopelessness for a normal life.
Why did I have to pick up this magazine? Why couldn't I have just watched the music videos like everybody else?
As I sat there contemplating the Western World's effect on everyday Zambian life, I couldnt help but remember the staff meeting yesterday morning.
We start everyday at EOH with devotions. Singing (usually in Bemba... I'm getting better!), praying (everyone praying, normally quite loudly, all at once) and a reading and discussion of Oswald Chamber's "My Utmost For His Highest." Yesterday's subject was that of Abraham trying to help God solve problems. Abraham had been promised descendants... lots of descendants. Yet, Sarah was unable to bare children. So, Abraham and Sarah went ahead and solved the problem themselves--they gave Hagar, Sarah's maidservant, over to Abraham to have babies with. And thus there was Ishmael. Ishmael, being a descendant of Abraham, was blessed by God. Yet, he wasnt the answer to God's promise--Issac, the son that God had planned to give to Abraham all along, was the fulfillment of the promise. So God had told Abraham that Ishmael would surely fight against his brother all of his days.
I had never really thought about that before. All the problems that the Israelites faced, were probably mostly due to Ishmael's descendants. Essentially, because Abraham had tried to solve his 'problem' in his own way, this eternal hindrance was in place to God's true plan.
Upon finishing devotions, we started talking about orphan sponsorship more in depth. Although I won't go into too much detail, we were discussing what occurs when a child is no longer sponsored. Mrs Harawa painted a much different picture for me than the simple phone call that would 'cancel' my subscription to any sponsorship program in the USA. She explained how someone has to go into the home of this previously starving, uneducated child... and look them in the eye... and tell them that they are no longer going to be sponsored, and thus will no longer be going to school, or no longer having full meals. The child will cry, the parents will be distraught, feelings of unworthiness and 'what did I do wrong?' will abound.
To me, it seems more loving for the child to never be sponsored in the first place.
But in America, we don't think about these things. We see a name, with a cute little face, a set sum of $32 a month.... and decide to give up our coffee money for a year and support a child instead. All along, we forget that it's actually a child on the other side of that $32 a month. And we forget that $32 isn't a set amount that will mysteriously and divinely meet all their needs. $32 here buys about as much as $32 at home. Honestly, I think some basic foods (cheese for one!) are even more expensive here. Never mind healthcare and pharmaceuticals. Plus, even public schools require expensive school fees, uniforms, and examination fees (which are required for students to pass onto the next grade). But we set ourselves up as self-righteous people and play 'savior' to a kid for a while--until we lose interest in that program, or our 'hearts are pulled else were', or we realize we miss having our daily $5 cup of joe from Starbucks. And a kid in Africa sits and cries, feeling more alone, abandoned and hopeless than ever before.
We try to solve the problems in our own way, and end up with an Ishmael. A thorn in the side of God's true work.
As I sat in the waiting room with Danny, I couldn't help but wonder if America was creating another Ishmael. AIDS prevention in Zambia has to be done in a Zambian way, or it will never work. But we're Americans. And we like to see results. We like to see percentage points and graphs and smiling faces of all the 'good' things we have accomplished. So we try to do it our way.
By the time we finally got in to see the doctor, I was already feeling sick to my stomach. It is pretty common for me to get woozy in hospitals. Especially when talking about blood diseases. But this was a different type of woozy. It was an anger, mixed with sickness at the state of our world. Before the appointment was over, I had to step outside to sit on the curb. But this time, instead of trying to recover from blackouts over my blood-phobia, I sat trying to hold in the tears and crying out to God.
In the Irresistible Revolution, Shane Claiborne makes an adage to the old quote that says 'Give a man a fish, and he will eat for a day; teach a man to fish and he will eat for a lifetime' by pointing out that not only must we teach a man to fish, but we must break down the walls around the pond and ask who polluted it.
I'm at the point where I want to know who polluted it.
I want to know why this quiet, smart, adorable boy is suffering so much pain by a disease that most people consider a curse. I want to know how it is possible that he doesn't know his own birthday (a fact that is heartbreaking when I consider the 100+ birthday messages I received yesterday via internet, as well as the huge chocolate cake and chocolate-chip muffins that were presented to me as a birthday feast). I want to know how such incredible misconceptions about HIV/AIDS can exist that would make a person commit suicide the day they have been diagnosed, or cause an infected person to rape a virgin (as it was once said that sleeping with a virgin would cure an infected person of the disease). I want to know how I can HELP instead of just create more Ishmaels. And I want America to wake up and realize that these are real people living and dieing according to her whims.
A few evenings ago the power went out. This is a fairly typical occurrence, so I went into my bedroom and read for a bit and slowly drifted off into a nap. Eventually I woke up, and wandered out into my now-lit kitchen... where I saw something scuddle across the floor. A lizard? A rodent? I wasn't super sure, but I decided I didn't really need to eat at that moment, and decided instead to walk into the office portion of the house and check to see if the internet was working. While sitting at the desk, a huge (5 inches long, minus the tail) rat darted from one side of the room to the other. Freaking out ever so slightly, I grabbed my computer and cord (didn't want it getting chewed!) and made way towards my room. As I did so, I saw what was definitely a 2nd rat of the same size dart across the kitchen floor again. Safely huddled in my room (with a towel shoved under the door to prevent rats from sneaking underneath) I sat and contemplated how Zambians probably wouldn't be upset by this, but I was freaking out. It took me approximately half an hour of praying and pumping myself up (note: 'All the Above' is actually a rather good pre-rat killing song) before I emerged from my room with my rain boots, long pants, jacket and head lamp on... swinging a broom. I tried to shoo the rats out, and the guard outside helped... but it was to no avail. I slept with a towel under my door, and my heaviest shoes and water bottles shoved against the towel to make sure no rat could push through.
The next day I discussed my escapades with the other EOH staff, fully expecting them to ridicule me. However, instead, all of the women surprised me by saying they would have been equally freaked out. Equally freaked out? Isn't this normal Zambian life?
Or maybe Zambians are just like Americans. Maybe we are all just humans, trying to follow a God who we can trust is mighty to save. Even if we're not sure why he's not stepping down in this place and time to save those whom we want to see saved. He's waiting to create Isaac--his perfect plan.
Friday night was a pretty lonely night for me. Those of you who know me well know that I am a 'night person.' When the sun goes down, I go out. It is common for me to be up till 2 or 3 in the morning laughing with a plethora of friends, playing games, watching movies, and just generally loving life. Here, at nightfall, I must be confined to the office, as it just not safe for a women, never mind a white women, to be out alone after dark. So I sat all Friday night, with the internet not working, no movies to watch, and the realization that the one and only deck of regular playing cards I brought did not in fact have all 52 cards (thank you in10sity! haha), thus even a friendly game of solitaire was out of the running. I prayed in earnest that God would give me another option for socialization, and started planning out ideas as to how I could find people to hang out with... all of which were rather far fetched, but it made me feel better to have a plan. My Ishmael.
Saturday morning I was woken up by a pounding on the outside door. I listened for a moment, as I did not think that any of the office staff were supposed to be coming in, and did not want to open the door for a stranger. And after a few moments I realized that the voices were indeed strangers, but somehow familiar. They were American. And they were calling my name. I jumped out of bed and ran for the keys.... and on the other side of the door were two more tall blonds, one a Hope College student and the other a grad from a school down in Mississippi. I had never met them before, but they were quite obviously my answer to prayer. Sophie and Mary-- two girls who had interned with EOH last summer, and had come back to work with the GEMS program, and were living a mile away from me. Sophie and Mary-- my Issac.
So what have I learned?
I honestly have no idea.
I'm learning to wait for Issac.
But I'm eager to see the pond free from pollution, and am learning that someone has to stop it from being polluted in the first place.
I learned a long time ago that I want God's guidance.
But I also want to see proper health care and a non-corrupt system.
And thus I am learning that I have no idea as to when we need to just 'let God', and when we need to become his hands and feet.
Orphan sponsorship is necessary for some of these kids to survive. But how should it be done? HIV/AIDS prevention is necessary for this awful state of emergency to be ended in Zambia. But what should we be teaching? More money is needed for EOH to continue it's work in Zambia. But do we invest in trying to make programs sustainable, or cry out to our loved ones and just ask for the money needed to buy school uniforms for a group of 24 students in Chongwe?
I'm sure you haven't heard the last of this internal debate I have going with myself. And you are all welcome to add your point of view. But, in all honesty I feel like I need to stop looking for the answer so hard, and just start looking at God harder. So I ask for your prayers. And you will all be in mine, as perhaps this now has you thinking too.
"And if we follow our dear sun to where the stars are not familiar.
Faces turn to numbers, numbers fall like manna from the sky.
Why, oh why? Oh Father, why?
One village in Malawi now has water running pure and clean.
One church alive in Kenya's full of truth and love and medicine.
We put the walls up, but Jesus keeps them standing.
He doesn't need us, but He lets us put our hands in.
So we can see, His love is bigger than you and me.
And we all can feel the calling,
to make the world a little smaller.
And so a girl got on a plane,
for two weeks in Africa." - Caedmon's Call
It's been almost two weeks now; and I praise God that in all actuality, this journey is just beginning. I think when most people come to Africa, it is for a short term mission. Just long enough to get them to ask the important questions. But I'm hoping that by being here for 6 months, I might start to find the important answers as well.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Thursday, January 14, 2010
All the time.
Right now, more than any American luxury, I simply wish I had enough bandwidth to post a video or picture of the Zambian orphans; for these are the kids I have already fallen in love with. And, in reality, this is the world I have fallen in love with.
Saturday I arrived in Zambia. I watched wide-eyed as we traversed a country side that was characterized by children running barefoot along dirt paths, men using sickles to cut down tall grass, street vendors and an incredible green landscape that left me wondering if Africa is really the 'disadvantaged' of our two nations. Running barefoot in green grass seems like a pretty swell plan to me.
However, Saturday I felt rather out of place. Where do I go? How do I act? Am I just going to be a stereotypical loud American (we all know I'm rather good with volume).... or how will these people perceive me? Will I ever be able to stop watching and being watched, and just be?
Sunday morning I was picked up by yet another unfamiliar face to attend church. As we bumped along roads filled with potholes, I wondered what this church was going to be like. And, to my surprise, once we arrived I was met by the nicest building I have yet to see in Africa. A choir was singing a song I did not know, and the pastors were praying in Bembe, the local language. I was also the only white person, and many people pointed and waved. There was no hiding now.
As I stood in church, trying to sway in rhythm to the unfamiliar music, I started to consider what was actually occurring in my life. A place I didn't know, a culture I didn't know how to fit into, not a single person I could talk to to ask the little questions about which greeting is proper for what type of persons or why everyone was laughing at certain things. What in heaven's name was I doing here?! But yet, somehow... I liked it. Which also confused me. I was fighting fear, but embracing reckless abandon. Fighting loneliness, but embracing new relationships. Fighting the doubts, and looking to God.
At the exact moment that I had finally come to the conclusion that I was indeed happy in this place, the pastor got up again and began to speak in English. I dont remember the first of what he said, but I was caught when he boldly proclaimed, "God is good!" ...and I couldn't help whispering under my breath the words "all the time" in response. However, there was no need to whisper... as, while I was secretly participating in worship the way I knew how, the entire congregation then spoke just as boldly as the pastor to also declare, "ALL THE TIME!"
Who is this God of ours? I couldn't believe it, and laughed.
The pastor then went on to the second half of the greeting: "And all the time!".... and I also gratefully declared with a host of Zambian Christians: "GOD IS GOOD!" From that moment on, it's been pretty hard to deny God's goodness, faithfulness, and purpose.
The rest of the 3 hour church service seemed to fly by as we sang in such a way that would put any CRC congregation to shame and listened to the sermon (complete with an English pastor presenting the word, and then a translator translating [almost] every word into Bembe..... though the translator kept cracking jokes that I wish I could have understood!). After the service I returned to the EOH office to get a nap, and then I was woken by Mrs. Harwara who then took me to the first of the My Father House [MFH] Orphan Homes. 'Lusaka Houses 1 and 2'.....
The Lusaka Houses 1 and 2 were the first houses made by EOH. Thus, for the past 6 years, the orphans in the homes have grown up together, surrounded by the local church and loved on by a house mom. I was blown away by the bright, smiling, amazing faces that met me at the door. Big hugs, laughs, and a tour of the house were immediately followed by teaching me their favorite games. However, the thing that will take me a long time to forget about Sunday was the conversation I had with the kids after wards.
Two of the eldest sat me down and started asking me questions that I was completely unprepared to answer, and the younger ones chimed in from time to time to ask for clarification that I was afraid to give. Questions about America, and faith, and what religion looked like where I came from, and what I hoped to do about it when I went back. What I hoped to do about religion in America?? Are you serious? Who has any power to change the situation of religion in America? God himself would have to step down to give America the wake up call she needs! But then, aren't we supposed to be God's hands and feet? What was I doing in Africa, when my country's heart is breaking right now? A million questions continued to circle through my head as they continued to ask (what they meant to be) simple questions about my home.
My education of both myself and Zambia continued this week. Chongwe is a village town, slightly removed from the more 'city-esk' Lusaka, where there are 4 more MFH Orphan Homes. Upon my first visit there, I was greeted by yet more hugs and 'Aunty Annika!!'. (That's a name I could get used to.) The kids in the Chongwe homes are all somewhat younger, and have come to EOH more recently, thus it was easy to identify a few of the kids who were a bit more tentative... and made my heart break as I considered the reasons why they would be hesitant to love as quickly as the rest. Nevertheless, all of the kids were eager to play more games and teach me their songs. In return, by the end of the day there were 30 kids in a little African village singing a newer version of Jesus Love Me, complete with 'Na na na na nananana Hey! Na na na na nananana Ugh!'s.... as they also wondered at some of our songs.
Tuesday I began to work in earnest with Esther, the coordinator of the MFH's in Lusaka. I am very, very excited to report that it is with her that I will probably be able to be the biggest help... as she is looking to implement a few programs into the MFHs (such as Bible Studies, sports' days, and even an AIDS lifestyle training... I guess that after being at LaGrave, growing up with my mom and all of my other desensitization towards talking about sex, it's only God's humor that he would have me teach a sex-ed class in Africa!). However, up to this point Esther had been a little unsure on how to start planning and facilitating such programs. And, though I don't claim to be an expert in too many areas of life... that is one area that I have come to feel rather competent. I guess God knew what he was doing when he brought me here to help before sending me back to my own country to 'do something' about religion there.
Wednesday I woke up.... puking. (As many of you probably already knew from my facebook! Thanks for all of the prayers!) The previous day I had been at MFH's 3 and 4 in Lusaka with Esther, and one of the generous and loving house moms had offered me a 'local juice' (made from roots) after we had been playing outside with the kids all afternoon (soccer... in long pants... in 80 degree heat). I gratefully took the drink, as Esther gave her nod of approval that it was in fact safe for me to drink. However, when I woke up with huge stomach pains on Wednesday, Mrs. Harawa realized that the drink was probably prepared with unboiled water.... oops. More than a few meds, a long nap, and I woke up Wednesday afternoon feeling quite better. By the end of the day I was feeling as good as new. Praise God. (However, there was no internet available to update anyone on my health, so I apologize to all of you who sat in worry all day for me!)
And then there's today. We woke up extra early this morning because of a very important errand: we had purchased school uniforms for the students in Chongwe the day before... and if we got to Chongwe early enough, the students would be permitted to go to school for the day! Up to that point, the orphans in those MFH had not been allowed to go to school... the terms here started on Monday (they take a month off every 3 months, instead of one just 'summer break'), and the school where the kids were attending decided to make a rule that all kids had to have uniforms... whether or not they could afford them. No uniform, no school. So we descended on Chongwe with brand new uniforms for 24 children.... and if you have ever seen a child on Christmas morning, multiply that reaction by about 10,000... and you have the electricity in the air as the kids were handed their 'smart suits' (as I heard one little boy refer to his new clothes, haha). It hit me then that these were quite possibly the first brand new clothes any of the kids had ever received... as the MFH apparently rely on many clothing donations. I quietly looked down at my brand new skirt that I had bought for this trip. The $7 I spent on it now felt too much.
It all feels like too much. A year ago I would be given $15 for dinner at Track and Field meet days....here, I receive $15 a day as my stipend for food, water, travel expenses, ect; total my $400+ a month that that $15 a day gets me... and all of a sudden it seems exorbitant compared to the measly $500 a month that each of the MFHs has to operate on in order to feed, clothe, protect, provide healthcare and an education for the 8 orphans and mother living in the home.
Welcome to perspective.
There are a million other things that I could talk about:
The corruption of the education system that I have already come face to face with as Esther has tried to put students in their right grades... but been denied and asked to pay more money 'in order to get grade completion forms re-sent'.
The fact that when asked what they wanted to be when they grew up, at least 30% of the kids at MFH Lusaka 3 and 4 reported that they wanted to be soldiers.... so that they could help people by protecting them; as apparently Zambia is known as a Christian nation now, and all the kids want it to stay that way.
Protection itself is an issue as well. I sit here writing this behind my locked bedroom door, inclosed in by huge wooden doors over the back and front entrances of the office, followed by iron gates that close over the doors. Outside the front gate is the guard, who patrols by the 10 foot wall surrounding the office that is topped with broken bottles and an electric fence. It scares me when I think about why such security is needed. And I almost peed my pants last night when I couldn't get the back door to lock correctly... and woke up suddenly, hearing things in the house. (I eventually went and looked outside my bedroom... maglight in one hand and cell phone in the other... and there was no one there. Praise God. Must have just been the wind blowing a door.) I was grateful to see that they had the lock fixed today.
....this was all taken in sharp contrast to my realization today (again, as we were driving through the countryside) that, despite all of the corruption, I think the world here is more beautiful and joyful than the hard nosed, fast paced culture that too many American's bow to.
Then there was the incident this morning when we stopped in a rural part of Chongwe at a man's home.... and his daughters cried and ran from me... and the man had to explain that they had never seen a white person before, and that he hoped I was not offended that they were afraid of me. Offended? I have always grown up thinking color didnt matter... but maybe for the first time in my life, it did.... but I hadn't even noticed it. What a crazy world.
Last but not least, it would be hard to speak of Zambia without talking of the amazing faith that everyone here seems to have. Maybe it is because there is a need for such faith, or maybe it is because they simply have more time and less distractions to enable them to actually listen to God.... but everything that is done around here is done trusting in God's providence. Even just talking about it gives me goose-bumps. I love that.
And, although I am inclined to apologize for the length and sporadic inclinations of this post.... if all of these words are beginning to overwhelm you, then maybe I am beginning to capture my life over the past week. So many encounters, thoughts, faith stories, God moments.... and it's only been 5 days. But, I think I can sum in up in this way: I am loving Zambia, loving our God, and I love you all... (but I am somewhat lonely at times, so keep the emails coming updating me on your lives!) and I pray that God gives you the same blessed assurance that he has been giving me here day by day.
God is good.... ;-)
Saturday I arrived in Zambia. I watched wide-eyed as we traversed a country side that was characterized by children running barefoot along dirt paths, men using sickles to cut down tall grass, street vendors and an incredible green landscape that left me wondering if Africa is really the 'disadvantaged' of our two nations. Running barefoot in green grass seems like a pretty swell plan to me.
However, Saturday I felt rather out of place. Where do I go? How do I act? Am I just going to be a stereotypical loud American (we all know I'm rather good with volume).... or how will these people perceive me? Will I ever be able to stop watching and being watched, and just be?
Sunday morning I was picked up by yet another unfamiliar face to attend church. As we bumped along roads filled with potholes, I wondered what this church was going to be like. And, to my surprise, once we arrived I was met by the nicest building I have yet to see in Africa. A choir was singing a song I did not know, and the pastors were praying in Bembe, the local language. I was also the only white person, and many people pointed and waved. There was no hiding now.
As I stood in church, trying to sway in rhythm to the unfamiliar music, I started to consider what was actually occurring in my life. A place I didn't know, a culture I didn't know how to fit into, not a single person I could talk to to ask the little questions about which greeting is proper for what type of persons or why everyone was laughing at certain things. What in heaven's name was I doing here?! But yet, somehow... I liked it. Which also confused me. I was fighting fear, but embracing reckless abandon. Fighting loneliness, but embracing new relationships. Fighting the doubts, and looking to God.
At the exact moment that I had finally come to the conclusion that I was indeed happy in this place, the pastor got up again and began to speak in English. I dont remember the first of what he said, but I was caught when he boldly proclaimed, "God is good!" ...and I couldn't help whispering under my breath the words "all the time" in response. However, there was no need to whisper... as, while I was secretly participating in worship the way I knew how, the entire congregation then spoke just as boldly as the pastor to also declare, "ALL THE TIME!"
Who is this God of ours? I couldn't believe it, and laughed.
The pastor then went on to the second half of the greeting: "And all the time!".... and I also gratefully declared with a host of Zambian Christians: "GOD IS GOOD!" From that moment on, it's been pretty hard to deny God's goodness, faithfulness, and purpose.
The rest of the 3 hour church service seemed to fly by as we sang in such a way that would put any CRC congregation to shame and listened to the sermon (complete with an English pastor presenting the word, and then a translator translating [almost] every word into Bembe..... though the translator kept cracking jokes that I wish I could have understood!). After the service I returned to the EOH office to get a nap, and then I was woken by Mrs. Harwara who then took me to the first of the My Father House [MFH] Orphan Homes. 'Lusaka Houses 1 and 2'.....
The Lusaka Houses 1 and 2 were the first houses made by EOH. Thus, for the past 6 years, the orphans in the homes have grown up together, surrounded by the local church and loved on by a house mom. I was blown away by the bright, smiling, amazing faces that met me at the door. Big hugs, laughs, and a tour of the house were immediately followed by teaching me their favorite games. However, the thing that will take me a long time to forget about Sunday was the conversation I had with the kids after wards.
Two of the eldest sat me down and started asking me questions that I was completely unprepared to answer, and the younger ones chimed in from time to time to ask for clarification that I was afraid to give. Questions about America, and faith, and what religion looked like where I came from, and what I hoped to do about it when I went back. What I hoped to do about religion in America?? Are you serious? Who has any power to change the situation of religion in America? God himself would have to step down to give America the wake up call she needs! But then, aren't we supposed to be God's hands and feet? What was I doing in Africa, when my country's heart is breaking right now? A million questions continued to circle through my head as they continued to ask (what they meant to be) simple questions about my home.
My education of both myself and Zambia continued this week. Chongwe is a village town, slightly removed from the more 'city-esk' Lusaka, where there are 4 more MFH Orphan Homes. Upon my first visit there, I was greeted by yet more hugs and 'Aunty Annika!!'. (That's a name I could get used to.) The kids in the Chongwe homes are all somewhat younger, and have come to EOH more recently, thus it was easy to identify a few of the kids who were a bit more tentative... and made my heart break as I considered the reasons why they would be hesitant to love as quickly as the rest. Nevertheless, all of the kids were eager to play more games and teach me their songs. In return, by the end of the day there were 30 kids in a little African village singing a newer version of Jesus Love Me, complete with 'Na na na na nananana Hey! Na na na na nananana Ugh!'s.... as they also wondered at some of our songs.
Tuesday I began to work in earnest with Esther, the coordinator of the MFH's in Lusaka. I am very, very excited to report that it is with her that I will probably be able to be the biggest help... as she is looking to implement a few programs into the MFHs (such as Bible Studies, sports' days, and even an AIDS lifestyle training... I guess that after being at LaGrave, growing up with my mom and all of my other desensitization towards talking about sex, it's only God's humor that he would have me teach a sex-ed class in Africa!). However, up to this point Esther had been a little unsure on how to start planning and facilitating such programs. And, though I don't claim to be an expert in too many areas of life... that is one area that I have come to feel rather competent. I guess God knew what he was doing when he brought me here to help before sending me back to my own country to 'do something' about religion there.
Wednesday I woke up.... puking. (As many of you probably already knew from my facebook! Thanks for all of the prayers!) The previous day I had been at MFH's 3 and 4 in Lusaka with Esther, and one of the generous and loving house moms had offered me a 'local juice' (made from roots) after we had been playing outside with the kids all afternoon (soccer... in long pants... in 80 degree heat). I gratefully took the drink, as Esther gave her nod of approval that it was in fact safe for me to drink. However, when I woke up with huge stomach pains on Wednesday, Mrs. Harawa realized that the drink was probably prepared with unboiled water.... oops. More than a few meds, a long nap, and I woke up Wednesday afternoon feeling quite better. By the end of the day I was feeling as good as new. Praise God. (However, there was no internet available to update anyone on my health, so I apologize to all of you who sat in worry all day for me!)
And then there's today. We woke up extra early this morning because of a very important errand: we had purchased school uniforms for the students in Chongwe the day before... and if we got to Chongwe early enough, the students would be permitted to go to school for the day! Up to that point, the orphans in those MFH had not been allowed to go to school... the terms here started on Monday (they take a month off every 3 months, instead of one just 'summer break'), and the school where the kids were attending decided to make a rule that all kids had to have uniforms... whether or not they could afford them. No uniform, no school. So we descended on Chongwe with brand new uniforms for 24 children.... and if you have ever seen a child on Christmas morning, multiply that reaction by about 10,000... and you have the electricity in the air as the kids were handed their 'smart suits' (as I heard one little boy refer to his new clothes, haha). It hit me then that these were quite possibly the first brand new clothes any of the kids had ever received... as the MFH apparently rely on many clothing donations. I quietly looked down at my brand new skirt that I had bought for this trip. The $7 I spent on it now felt too much.
It all feels like too much. A year ago I would be given $15 for dinner at Track and Field meet days....here, I receive $15 a day as my stipend for food, water, travel expenses, ect; total my $400+ a month that that $15 a day gets me... and all of a sudden it seems exorbitant compared to the measly $500 a month that each of the MFHs has to operate on in order to feed, clothe, protect, provide healthcare and an education for the 8 orphans and mother living in the home.
Welcome to perspective.
There are a million other things that I could talk about:
The corruption of the education system that I have already come face to face with as Esther has tried to put students in their right grades... but been denied and asked to pay more money 'in order to get grade completion forms re-sent'.
The fact that when asked what they wanted to be when they grew up, at least 30% of the kids at MFH Lusaka 3 and 4 reported that they wanted to be soldiers.... so that they could help people by protecting them; as apparently Zambia is known as a Christian nation now, and all the kids want it to stay that way.
Protection itself is an issue as well. I sit here writing this behind my locked bedroom door, inclosed in by huge wooden doors over the back and front entrances of the office, followed by iron gates that close over the doors. Outside the front gate is the guard, who patrols by the 10 foot wall surrounding the office that is topped with broken bottles and an electric fence. It scares me when I think about why such security is needed. And I almost peed my pants last night when I couldn't get the back door to lock correctly... and woke up suddenly, hearing things in the house. (I eventually went and looked outside my bedroom... maglight in one hand and cell phone in the other... and there was no one there. Praise God. Must have just been the wind blowing a door.) I was grateful to see that they had the lock fixed today.
....this was all taken in sharp contrast to my realization today (again, as we were driving through the countryside) that, despite all of the corruption, I think the world here is more beautiful and joyful than the hard nosed, fast paced culture that too many American's bow to.
Then there was the incident this morning when we stopped in a rural part of Chongwe at a man's home.... and his daughters cried and ran from me... and the man had to explain that they had never seen a white person before, and that he hoped I was not offended that they were afraid of me. Offended? I have always grown up thinking color didnt matter... but maybe for the first time in my life, it did.... but I hadn't even noticed it. What a crazy world.
Last but not least, it would be hard to speak of Zambia without talking of the amazing faith that everyone here seems to have. Maybe it is because there is a need for such faith, or maybe it is because they simply have more time and less distractions to enable them to actually listen to God.... but everything that is done around here is done trusting in God's providence. Even just talking about it gives me goose-bumps. I love that.
And, although I am inclined to apologize for the length and sporadic inclinations of this post.... if all of these words are beginning to overwhelm you, then maybe I am beginning to capture my life over the past week. So many encounters, thoughts, faith stories, God moments.... and it's only been 5 days. But, I think I can sum in up in this way: I am loving Zambia, loving our God, and I love you all... (but I am somewhat lonely at times, so keep the emails coming updating me on your lives!) and I pray that God gives you the same blessed assurance that he has been giving me here day by day.
God is good.... ;-)
Saturday, January 9, 2010
The Adventure Begins - Ministry Update
It is with great joy that I can say I am officially (and safely!) settled in at the Every Orphan's Hope (EOH) office, which will also double as my home for the next 6 months, in Lusaka, Zambia!
On Tuesday, January 5, I left Boston and flew to Texas where I was able to meet Gary Schneider (the founder of EOH) and Paul and Kim Lueders (the other couple that makes up the rest of the American side staff!). Then, Tuesday, Wedensday and much of Thursday was spent getting properly 'orientated' as to what I should expect in Zambia, and what will be expected of me. (Though I did manage to find time to watch the Calvin v Hope basketball game over livestream. Ya Knights! I apologize if anyone heard my screaming from my hotel room!)
Thursday I was then off to the airport again... this time destined for London, England. With long layover (11 hours), the staff of EOH had put together an entire walking tour of London for me; thus I was pretty excited to get off the ground, as I was going to have more than enough time to make it to the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. However (inevitably) the plane was delayed due to icy conditions in the UK. We did eventually get off the ground..... with the slightest hint of possibility that I could still make it to the changing of the guard if I took a faster and more expensive transportation method (!!). Nevertheless, once we arrived in London after a 9hr flight, our plane sat on the tarmack for about another hour and a half, shooting that plan :-( . I tried not to be disappointed, and still headed into the city for the rest of the tour.... which was fantastic. Getting to stretch my legs while seeing Buckingham Palace, the Royal Park, Westminster Abby, the Parliament building (including Big Ben) and an up close and personal look at London's Eye (the carousel) was a perfect teaser... and gave me every reason to want to go back. (Who want's to ride a giant carousel alone?!)
After walking around for about 4 hours in freezing temperatures....while dressed for Africa (what would I have given for a pair of gloves?!)... I was ready to head back. Getting through security was a breeze compared to the States, and I headed for my gate. Thankfully, our plane to Zambia boarded on time. However, we then sat on the tarmack for another 2 and a half hours as we waited to be 'de-iced'. (I think I would have rather just had the flight delayed and had more time in London, or at the very least been permitted to walk around in the airport! But oh well...such is life.) Eventually we were on our way... for another 10 hour flight.
I woke up this morning (Saturday) bursting with excitement. As we got closer to Zambia I began praying in earnest that I would be able to make a few instant connections and find some community with the Zambians. It was about that time that my seatmate, Laura, and I began chatting. In her late 20s or early 30s, she was a Canadian who taught in a school for international students. She then asked me if I played volleyball... and I could feel God's love pour over me as I realized that this could quite possibly be my first connection. Apparently she, and a few coworkers play volleyball on Monday and Wednesday nights at the school she teaches at... and she lives close to the EOH office. We exchanged email addresses and she encouraged me to come check it out 'if I at all loved the sport'. :-) At this point it is unclear how it will work out for me to play... but it is needless to say that I am very, very excited at the opportunity.
Flying into Africa is like nothing I have ever experienced before. All green. No concrete. America could learn a lesson.
At about 8am Zambian time we departed the plane on a staircase that was brought right out onto the only runway, and we were able to walk across the lawn into the airport.... with loads of family members waiting for their loved ones right outside. (Even before we got to the border control/Visa station!) I was slightly relieved to see a woman standing with a sheet of paper with my name printed on it.... as I knew instantly it must be Mrs. Harawa, the Zambian director of EOH. Although I would love to go into detail, let me just say for the sake of brevity that she was very welcoming and helped immensely in the process of getting the proper Visa. After that, it was a wait for my luggage, which (after quite some time) did eventually show up. It must have been in the back of the storage, because I was starting to get nervous and almost let out a shout when I finally spotted my suitcases.
From the airport we walked outside and met Humphrey, an EOH volunteer who does most of the driving around town. As I'm sure I'll tell you much about the country side in future blog entries and such, let me just say... I loved the drive.
We then went straight to a supermarket to get me my groceries... and just 2 quick observations on that: it was alot more Western than I was expecting (yay!), but I do not understanding Zambian pricing/money exchange rates at all (boo!). I was glad to have Mrs Harawa there with me.
Then it was (finally!) onto the EOH office... my new home! Bright pink, surrounded by huge walls with electric barbed wire on the top; I have a bedroom with 2 twin beds and a bookcase.... and what looks to be my own shower room, bathroom, and kitchen. (It's going to be interesting to try to get a system down for meals when I cannot use any non-boiled tap water for cooking!) After arriving, Mrs Harawa and Humphrey left me to get 'settled in' and do some more errands.... and I have been pretty much alone ever since. Except for the gaurd outside. (That's right.. the office has a guard. Seems a little odd, but apparently its' standard because of expensive computers.... and hopefully it will help my Mom and Dad feel a little better about me being alone here too. :-) Haha. )
So there you have it. Tomorrow is my first church service, and an opportunity to meet many more people, including (hopefully) some of the kids from the Orphan Homes!
A few prayer requests:
-That I will 'mesh' well with all of the personalities in the EOH office.
-That I won't make myself sick as I try and prepare food in ways I've never experienced before! (Eek.)
-An open and willing heart as I try and figure out what a routine is going to look like and how I can best help out around here!!
On Tuesday, January 5, I left Boston and flew to Texas where I was able to meet Gary Schneider (the founder of EOH) and Paul and Kim Lueders (the other couple that makes up the rest of the American side staff!). Then, Tuesday, Wedensday and much of Thursday was spent getting properly 'orientated' as to what I should expect in Zambia, and what will be expected of me. (Though I did manage to find time to watch the Calvin v Hope basketball game over livestream. Ya Knights! I apologize if anyone heard my screaming from my hotel room!)
Thursday I was then off to the airport again... this time destined for London, England. With long layover (11 hours), the staff of EOH had put together an entire walking tour of London for me; thus I was pretty excited to get off the ground, as I was going to have more than enough time to make it to the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. However (inevitably) the plane was delayed due to icy conditions in the UK. We did eventually get off the ground..... with the slightest hint of possibility that I could still make it to the changing of the guard if I took a faster and more expensive transportation method (!!). Nevertheless, once we arrived in London after a 9hr flight, our plane sat on the tarmack for about another hour and a half, shooting that plan :-( . I tried not to be disappointed, and still headed into the city for the rest of the tour.... which was fantastic. Getting to stretch my legs while seeing Buckingham Palace, the Royal Park, Westminster Abby, the Parliament building (including Big Ben) and an up close and personal look at London's Eye (the carousel) was a perfect teaser... and gave me every reason to want to go back. (Who want's to ride a giant carousel alone?!)
After walking around for about 4 hours in freezing temperatures....while dressed for Africa (what would I have given for a pair of gloves?!)... I was ready to head back. Getting through security was a breeze compared to the States, and I headed for my gate. Thankfully, our plane to Zambia boarded on time. However, we then sat on the tarmack for another 2 and a half hours as we waited to be 'de-iced'. (I think I would have rather just had the flight delayed and had more time in London, or at the very least been permitted to walk around in the airport! But oh well...such is life.) Eventually we were on our way... for another 10 hour flight.
I woke up this morning (Saturday) bursting with excitement. As we got closer to Zambia I began praying in earnest that I would be able to make a few instant connections and find some community with the Zambians. It was about that time that my seatmate, Laura, and I began chatting. In her late 20s or early 30s, she was a Canadian who taught in a school for international students. She then asked me if I played volleyball... and I could feel God's love pour over me as I realized that this could quite possibly be my first connection. Apparently she, and a few coworkers play volleyball on Monday and Wednesday nights at the school she teaches at... and she lives close to the EOH office. We exchanged email addresses and she encouraged me to come check it out 'if I at all loved the sport'. :-) At this point it is unclear how it will work out for me to play... but it is needless to say that I am very, very excited at the opportunity.
Flying into Africa is like nothing I have ever experienced before. All green. No concrete. America could learn a lesson.
At about 8am Zambian time we departed the plane on a staircase that was brought right out onto the only runway, and we were able to walk across the lawn into the airport.... with loads of family members waiting for their loved ones right outside. (Even before we got to the border control/Visa station!) I was slightly relieved to see a woman standing with a sheet of paper with my name printed on it.... as I knew instantly it must be Mrs. Harawa, the Zambian director of EOH. Although I would love to go into detail, let me just say for the sake of brevity that she was very welcoming and helped immensely in the process of getting the proper Visa. After that, it was a wait for my luggage, which (after quite some time) did eventually show up. It must have been in the back of the storage, because I was starting to get nervous and almost let out a shout when I finally spotted my suitcases.
From the airport we walked outside and met Humphrey, an EOH volunteer who does most of the driving around town. As I'm sure I'll tell you much about the country side in future blog entries and such, let me just say... I loved the drive.
We then went straight to a supermarket to get me my groceries... and just 2 quick observations on that: it was alot more Western than I was expecting (yay!), but I do not understanding Zambian pricing/money exchange rates at all (boo!). I was glad to have Mrs Harawa there with me.
Then it was (finally!) onto the EOH office... my new home! Bright pink, surrounded by huge walls with electric barbed wire on the top; I have a bedroom with 2 twin beds and a bookcase.... and what looks to be my own shower room, bathroom, and kitchen. (It's going to be interesting to try to get a system down for meals when I cannot use any non-boiled tap water for cooking!) After arriving, Mrs Harawa and Humphrey left me to get 'settled in' and do some more errands.... and I have been pretty much alone ever since. Except for the gaurd outside. (That's right.. the office has a guard. Seems a little odd, but apparently its' standard because of expensive computers.... and hopefully it will help my Mom and Dad feel a little better about me being alone here too. :-) Haha. )
So there you have it. Tomorrow is my first church service, and an opportunity to meet many more people, including (hopefully) some of the kids from the Orphan Homes!
A few prayer requests:
-That I will 'mesh' well with all of the personalities in the EOH office.
-That I won't make myself sick as I try and prepare food in ways I've never experienced before! (Eek.)
-An open and willing heart as I try and figure out what a routine is going to look like and how I can best help out around here!!
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
And Christmas came running.
So I have to admit something to you all:
I had all but forgotten about Christmas.
Trying to tie up everything in GR, preparing for Zambia, moving everything home... I had just not really grasped the fact that Christmas was actually happening. Which, honestly, felt a little weird to me. Here I have been thinking more about God and Jesus' mission while he was here on earth more than any other year.... and I was having a hard time feeling 'Christmas-y.'
I had driven into a Massachusetts winter wonderland and seen the lights, I had run around and bought all my presents, I had accepted my pastor's request to read Luke 2 in church, I had seen the friends, and my family was all back together (my brother from Japan, my sister and her fiance from Florida, me from Michigan), and I had enjoyed the smell of a real Christmas Tree set up in our living room.... but even as I hurried to the front row of good ol' Fairlawn CRC to sit with my family on Christmas Eve (candle in hand), I still wasn't really feeling it. Christmas? What is Christmas?
And then it happened.
On Christmas Eve, my church decided to take the entire evening offering and use it to finish all of the fund raising needed for my trip to Zambia. My mom had told me a little earlier that evening that it was happening so that it wouldnt be a shock in church, but for the most part it had been a complete surprise. And, as I sat in church and my pastor announced that it was actually happening and sent a smile my way... I was simply overwhelmed by God's presence, providence, and love.
Don't get me wrong, the money was a nice bonus as well.... but I dont think I will ever be able to really describe the feeling of realizing that God had provided not just the means for me to actually go to Africa, but had done it through the work of a community that I had grown up in and loved. I wish I could describe the crushing love that I felt from my church family as I was watching baskets of money come forward and realizing that I no longer had to worry or stress about the trip. I think it must have been what Paul felt all those times when he started his letters to the churches that supported him with "I thank God every time I think of you."
By the time Pastor Coffey opened his sermon with the rhetorical question of 'What is the true meaning of Christmas?'.... I realized that I finally knew the answer to it.
It's about love. A love so great that God came down as a baby to save us. A love that made him choose to come down in a stable (which, if you look at what an inn's stable was in those times, was actually a place of lowly community; as only rich people and those in extreme circumstances actually stayed in the inn.... Mary should have been in the inn due to her pregnancy, but of COURSE our God would choose to come into the world in a place of community, with everyone gathered around and all the women helping!). And a love that is going to follow us to the ends of the earth.
I realize that it is now January 6 and may be a little past due for a Christmas message..... but tomorrow I leave. I am currently writing from a Texas hotel room, and over the past few days I have been sufficiently orientated and trained. And thus, after months and months of preparations, in a few hours I will get on a plane and finally head out into the wild blue yonder of God's amazing grace. However, I realized on Christmas Eve that I certainly do not head out alone.
I may have almost forgotten Christmas, but Christmas did not forget me. Christ stopped me in my tracks just in time to remind me that he has everything covered already, and I only need to walk with him. And thus, walk I shall.
Here we go.
I had all but forgotten about Christmas.
Trying to tie up everything in GR, preparing for Zambia, moving everything home... I had just not really grasped the fact that Christmas was actually happening. Which, honestly, felt a little weird to me. Here I have been thinking more about God and Jesus' mission while he was here on earth more than any other year.... and I was having a hard time feeling 'Christmas-y.'
I had driven into a Massachusetts winter wonderland and seen the lights, I had run around and bought all my presents, I had accepted my pastor's request to read Luke 2 in church, I had seen the friends, and my family was all back together (my brother from Japan, my sister and her fiance from Florida, me from Michigan), and I had enjoyed the smell of a real Christmas Tree set up in our living room.... but even as I hurried to the front row of good ol' Fairlawn CRC to sit with my family on Christmas Eve (candle in hand), I still wasn't really feeling it. Christmas? What is Christmas?
And then it happened.
On Christmas Eve, my church decided to take the entire evening offering and use it to finish all of the fund raising needed for my trip to Zambia. My mom had told me a little earlier that evening that it was happening so that it wouldnt be a shock in church, but for the most part it had been a complete surprise. And, as I sat in church and my pastor announced that it was actually happening and sent a smile my way... I was simply overwhelmed by God's presence, providence, and love.
Don't get me wrong, the money was a nice bonus as well.... but I dont think I will ever be able to really describe the feeling of realizing that God had provided not just the means for me to actually go to Africa, but had done it through the work of a community that I had grown up in and loved. I wish I could describe the crushing love that I felt from my church family as I was watching baskets of money come forward and realizing that I no longer had to worry or stress about the trip. I think it must have been what Paul felt all those times when he started his letters to the churches that supported him with "I thank God every time I think of you."
By the time Pastor Coffey opened his sermon with the rhetorical question of 'What is the true meaning of Christmas?'.... I realized that I finally knew the answer to it.
It's about love. A love so great that God came down as a baby to save us. A love that made him choose to come down in a stable (which, if you look at what an inn's stable was in those times, was actually a place of lowly community; as only rich people and those in extreme circumstances actually stayed in the inn.... Mary should have been in the inn due to her pregnancy, but of COURSE our God would choose to come into the world in a place of community, with everyone gathered around and all the women helping!). And a love that is going to follow us to the ends of the earth.
I realize that it is now January 6 and may be a little past due for a Christmas message..... but tomorrow I leave. I am currently writing from a Texas hotel room, and over the past few days I have been sufficiently orientated and trained. And thus, after months and months of preparations, in a few hours I will get on a plane and finally head out into the wild blue yonder of God's amazing grace. However, I realized on Christmas Eve that I certainly do not head out alone.
I may have almost forgotten Christmas, but Christmas did not forget me. Christ stopped me in my tracks just in time to remind me that he has everything covered already, and I only need to walk with him. And thus, walk I shall.
Here we go.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
...promptly and sincerely.
I am currently sitting at a rest stop on the New York state thruway. I have been driving for hours, and thinking for hours, and simply had to stop... and write.
What a week. What a semester. What a lifetime.
Time is one of those things that gets away from me. It's a hard concept for me to grasp that it has been 4 and a half years since moving to Grand Rapids. Or 10 years since I first went on a Youth Unlimited event. Or only 36 hours since I went to bed for the last time at the Griggs house.
In the past week I have had coffee, breakfast, lunch or dinner with just about every person who has had huge impacts on me while in GR.... just about. And yet, I'm sorry that I missed a few. I have cried huge crocodile tears because of the need to hug goodbye those I love, and because of misunderstandings that left me feeling a little unloved. I have driven around GR looking out on the ways I have previously defined my life, and I have had short panic-attacks when I have realized that I am primarily in the dark as to how I am going to be defining myself in just a few short weeks. I have been excited for the amazing things yet to be done in my life, and I have yelled at God for the things that have made it hard to leave the life I knew just 48 hours ago.
And yet, I keep coming back to a phrase that was coined almost 2 years ago now by my old roommates Jessi Miller and Kristin Haagsma.... "only time will tell." No clue where to turn, no clue what turns are coming, and only time will tell.
Somedays I am so excited for whats ahead. I charge into the idea of loving people and loving God, wherever I am. I crank up some good ol' Christian music and c-walk to 'My life be like' or re-realize the glorious message that first captivated me in 'Secret Ambition' or 'Color Outside the Lines' when I was young. I am productive in my packing and planning, and they don't seem like chores. People ask me about 'what I'm going to do' and I am bursting at the seams to tell them all I know of what I am going to get to expereince in Zambia.
Other days, it all feels so jaded. Theres not a Christian song out there that I feel like I haven't heard, nor a peice of encouragement that someone hasnt already said. My phone calls go unanswered and accomplishing anything seems impossible. And then I get frustrated at amazing people who love me, but make it sound like I'm about to go out and save the world... when all I want to do is learn how to love God and love others better. I'm no savior. I get scolded because I haven't done every little thing (I just realized I should have probably ordered extra contacts last week....), and everyone seems shocked to find out that I'm not perfect. And so I sit and dream instead of being able to do.
But that is about to change. I have to pack. I have to tie up loose ends. I have to finally submit my grad school applications. I have to, I have to, I have to... and then I get to.
And that's where I'm at.
Fundraising is almost finished. God has been so incredibly faithful (!!!) that it kills me that I am not more upbeat about everything 24/7.
But I think that's all part of it.
Because if I was 100% gung-ho and able to have everything together, I wouldn't need amazing people to show up at my house to help me pack... or friends who just hug me and let me cry. I wouldn't need parents who are probably at their wits end making sure I get all my ducks in a row (as frustrating as it seems sometimes to have them asking about things that I HAVEN'T gotten done... does that ever change??), and who love me despite not finding a way to earn enough money to pay my loans back. And I wouldn't need all of you, who are reading this blog right now and inevitably will end up offering me the same Bible verse over and over again until I actually READ that Bible verse and take comfort in what it says.
But, I do need you.
Because there are days I feel like I'm in this alone... and that nobody understands....and that the only way you could possibly understand would be if you got off your duff and go do the same thing I'm doing.... BUT..... then I realize again that God has blessed me with an amazing oppertunity to go out and do something that most people HAVE dreamed of, but have never been able to do for one reason or another... and that I get to be the link between that dream and the reality... and that people do care about the state of the world and the church... and that you are all at the exact place God has brought you to, just as I am... and that God is going to do mighty things in people (both here and in Africa) both because of and inspite of me.
And so I go. My car is currently packed within 10 squre inches of being too full to see out of any window. My family is waiting at home (including my brother flying in from Japan!), my friends are scattered around the country wishing me well, and the next two weeks that seem somewhat overwhelming at the moment will fly by just as fast as the last week of goodbyes in Grand Rapids.
On Calvin's seal there is a phrase printed around the crest that reads: "My heart I offer to you, Lord, promptly and sincerely." It's a phrase that I have never really put too much thought into until Friday night when I was standing on the roof of Spoelhof, looking out over the campus.... friends coverting senslessy in the background. What does it look like to seriously surrender your heart to the Lord, when he asks, how he asks, in every way/area of your life, and with everything you have? I'm not sure yet, but I think I'm learning. And I think I like it.
Here we go (thats you and me, for the record), promptly and sincerely.
"Sometimes your only available transportation is a leap of faith." - Margret Shepard
What a week. What a semester. What a lifetime.
Time is one of those things that gets away from me. It's a hard concept for me to grasp that it has been 4 and a half years since moving to Grand Rapids. Or 10 years since I first went on a Youth Unlimited event. Or only 36 hours since I went to bed for the last time at the Griggs house.
In the past week I have had coffee, breakfast, lunch or dinner with just about every person who has had huge impacts on me while in GR.... just about. And yet, I'm sorry that I missed a few. I have cried huge crocodile tears because of the need to hug goodbye those I love, and because of misunderstandings that left me feeling a little unloved. I have driven around GR looking out on the ways I have previously defined my life, and I have had short panic-attacks when I have realized that I am primarily in the dark as to how I am going to be defining myself in just a few short weeks. I have been excited for the amazing things yet to be done in my life, and I have yelled at God for the things that have made it hard to leave the life I knew just 48 hours ago.
And yet, I keep coming back to a phrase that was coined almost 2 years ago now by my old roommates Jessi Miller and Kristin Haagsma.... "only time will tell." No clue where to turn, no clue what turns are coming, and only time will tell.
Somedays I am so excited for whats ahead. I charge into the idea of loving people and loving God, wherever I am. I crank up some good ol' Christian music and c-walk to 'My life be like' or re-realize the glorious message that first captivated me in 'Secret Ambition' or 'Color Outside the Lines' when I was young. I am productive in my packing and planning, and they don't seem like chores. People ask me about 'what I'm going to do' and I am bursting at the seams to tell them all I know of what I am going to get to expereince in Zambia.
Other days, it all feels so jaded. Theres not a Christian song out there that I feel like I haven't heard, nor a peice of encouragement that someone hasnt already said. My phone calls go unanswered and accomplishing anything seems impossible. And then I get frustrated at amazing people who love me, but make it sound like I'm about to go out and save the world... when all I want to do is learn how to love God and love others better. I'm no savior. I get scolded because I haven't done every little thing (I just realized I should have probably ordered extra contacts last week....), and everyone seems shocked to find out that I'm not perfect. And so I sit and dream instead of being able to do.
But that is about to change. I have to pack. I have to tie up loose ends. I have to finally submit my grad school applications. I have to, I have to, I have to... and then I get to.
And that's where I'm at.
Fundraising is almost finished. God has been so incredibly faithful (!!!) that it kills me that I am not more upbeat about everything 24/7.
But I think that's all part of it.
Because if I was 100% gung-ho and able to have everything together, I wouldn't need amazing people to show up at my house to help me pack... or friends who just hug me and let me cry. I wouldn't need parents who are probably at their wits end making sure I get all my ducks in a row (as frustrating as it seems sometimes to have them asking about things that I HAVEN'T gotten done... does that ever change??), and who love me despite not finding a way to earn enough money to pay my loans back. And I wouldn't need all of you, who are reading this blog right now and inevitably will end up offering me the same Bible verse over and over again until I actually READ that Bible verse and take comfort in what it says.
But, I do need you.
Because there are days I feel like I'm in this alone... and that nobody understands....and that the only way you could possibly understand would be if you got off your duff and go do the same thing I'm doing.... BUT..... then I realize again that God has blessed me with an amazing oppertunity to go out and do something that most people HAVE dreamed of, but have never been able to do for one reason or another... and that I get to be the link between that dream and the reality... and that people do care about the state of the world and the church... and that you are all at the exact place God has brought you to, just as I am... and that God is going to do mighty things in people (both here and in Africa) both because of and inspite of me.
And so I go. My car is currently packed within 10 squre inches of being too full to see out of any window. My family is waiting at home (including my brother flying in from Japan!), my friends are scattered around the country wishing me well, and the next two weeks that seem somewhat overwhelming at the moment will fly by just as fast as the last week of goodbyes in Grand Rapids.
On Calvin's seal there is a phrase printed around the crest that reads: "My heart I offer to you, Lord, promptly and sincerely." It's a phrase that I have never really put too much thought into until Friday night when I was standing on the roof of Spoelhof, looking out over the campus.... friends coverting senslessy in the background. What does it look like to seriously surrender your heart to the Lord, when he asks, how he asks, in every way/area of your life, and with everything you have? I'm not sure yet, but I think I'm learning. And I think I like it.
Here we go (thats you and me, for the record), promptly and sincerely.
"Sometimes your only available transportation is a leap of faith." - Margret Shepard
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Ministry Update
Friends!
It is with joy that I write to update you on the plans for
I am approximately a month away from embarking, and I have already seen the grace of God active in the planning and implementation of the trip. From receiving checks for sponsorship from complete strangers to encouragement, prayer, and support from my closest friends and family, I am beginning to think that everyone should have the opportunity to prepare for such a trip in their lifetime! What a journey in faith!
I want to share with you one particular experience that has me excited. Back in October I was visiting my former college roommate, Kristin Folkerts, now a first year teacher at
To make a long story short, I was asked to come to their school to present a chapel on the orphans of
their own… while being hammered by a deadly disease. By the end of the chapel, the students agreed that the orphans of
In addition to the prayer support, I was also amazed to see God work in another way that day. At the end of the day, the principal from the school greeted me and chatted about my upcoming trip. He then handed me a crisp $100 bill, and asked me to use it to buy school supplies for the orphans of
Isn’t it amazing how our God works? And isn’t it humbling to see through whom He works?
Thus, I just wanted to say thank you again for your continued support and encouragement. With a month left until my departure, I am two/thirds of the way to my needed goal. However, with the mighty things God has already done, I trust that all needs will be supplied in His time.
Thank you all again for everything, I am blessed to be a part of this family!
By His Grace,
Annika Krygsman
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
In God We Trust
So, I officially decided that I have a love-hate relationship with money.
To be honest, for most of my life I have hated the idea of money. Everything we do is confined by a substance that people die over, or waste their life chasing, or horde up (which in turn causes others to die). What a bother! Can't we all just get along, and trade good deeds for good deeds? Share? A Christian form of (dare-I-say-it) communism? Idealistic thinking.... but impossible in the culture we live in. (Whats more is we have seen all to clearly the evils that can come from communistic politics!)
So then what should we do about this money issue?
For the most part, I feel like the Bible teaches that money in general is rather evil. But, in actuality, its simply the love of money that is evil. Which then begs the question, is money itself good?
When I was in high school I remember I wrote my Junior Paper on the issue of whether or not 'In God We Trust' should still be printed on our money. I honestly don't remember what I argued or what I concluded at the end of the paper..... but I have come to appreciate the saying on our bills in a whole new way in the past few months.
In the past weeks I have seen checks pour in from across the United State in order to help send me half way across the world and serve in Africa. It's incredible! A check from a newly wed couple, who don't have any money to their name..... a check from a large family who really don't have much to spare.... an anonymous $500 donation to double the amount that my home-church was able to give. How is this is all possible?
In my last post, I talked about putting little bit of crisis in our comfort. And, to be honest, starting a Simple Way project in LA would definitely be adding crisis to my comfort by fighting luxury. However, I dont think that that is necessary way of fighting comfort for some others (which, again, makes me a little spiteful towards God for calling me to live in that way.... but not others! but since when has God ever made life easy?).... in fact, I think for 100% of the checks I have received up to this point to help send me to Zambia, the crisis for one's comfort came with deciding to give to such a cause.
This is a crazy economy. One day you have a job, one day you dont. There is no spare money. There are no garantees. However, here we all are.... saying 'In God We Trust' and writing checks that we know will need God's guidance in order to get cashed. How incredible is that?!? When I think about my personal financial situation at the moment... I almost want to cry. I have loan repayments to start as of next week, I need a new laptop to bring with me for Zambia (what I thought would be my major source of income over the past weeks has not worked out due to issues with my current laptop!), I have another rent check due in a few weeks, and I still havent officially applied to my grad schools because I don't have the extra $50-100 per application to go with it. On top of that, this past weekend my car broke down, and I had no choice but to let my parents cover the repair cost.
All that, and THEN I get to consider that I am still waiting on God to provide the final $3000 needed to send me to do His will! Wait a minute God, why all this stress?! Shouldn't I hate money right now?!
But that's just it: I don't. And its all because I have seen so clearly in the past months how much God can use money to bless people, or challenge people, or transform them. My faith has grown indubidably as I have sat here and done the math and come to realize that is impossible for me to make ends meet unless something big changes; and yet I am somehow fine with the idea that.... something big is going to change. I don't know what it is, but its coming. And the only way I know its coming is because I am confident that I am walking in the will of the Lord, and thus He will make the path straight. At least that is what He promised.
And so with that, I do hearby declare money as a good thing. A thing that we have to be careful with, a thing that we must consider carefully, but a ministry tool that we all get to have a hand in... one way or another. (Whether we have lots of 'In God We Trust's to read or not!)
To be honest, for most of my life I have hated the idea of money. Everything we do is confined by a substance that people die over, or waste their life chasing, or horde up (which in turn causes others to die). What a bother! Can't we all just get along, and trade good deeds for good deeds? Share? A Christian form of (dare-I-say-it) communism? Idealistic thinking.... but impossible in the culture we live in. (Whats more is we have seen all to clearly the evils that can come from communistic politics!)
So then what should we do about this money issue?
For the most part, I feel like the Bible teaches that money in general is rather evil. But, in actuality, its simply the love of money that is evil. Which then begs the question, is money itself good?
When I was in high school I remember I wrote my Junior Paper on the issue of whether or not 'In God We Trust' should still be printed on our money. I honestly don't remember what I argued or what I concluded at the end of the paper..... but I have come to appreciate the saying on our bills in a whole new way in the past few months.
In the past weeks I have seen checks pour in from across the United State in order to help send me half way across the world and serve in Africa. It's incredible! A check from a newly wed couple, who don't have any money to their name..... a check from a large family who really don't have much to spare.... an anonymous $500 donation to double the amount that my home-church was able to give. How is this is all possible?
In my last post, I talked about putting little bit of crisis in our comfort. And, to be honest, starting a Simple Way project in LA would definitely be adding crisis to my comfort by fighting luxury. However, I dont think that that is necessary way of fighting comfort for some others (which, again, makes me a little spiteful towards God for calling me to live in that way.... but not others! but since when has God ever made life easy?).... in fact, I think for 100% of the checks I have received up to this point to help send me to Zambia, the crisis for one's comfort came with deciding to give to such a cause.
This is a crazy economy. One day you have a job, one day you dont. There is no spare money. There are no garantees. However, here we all are.... saying 'In God We Trust' and writing checks that we know will need God's guidance in order to get cashed. How incredible is that?!? When I think about my personal financial situation at the moment... I almost want to cry. I have loan repayments to start as of next week, I need a new laptop to bring with me for Zambia (what I thought would be my major source of income over the past weeks has not worked out due to issues with my current laptop!), I have another rent check due in a few weeks, and I still havent officially applied to my grad schools because I don't have the extra $50-100 per application to go with it. On top of that, this past weekend my car broke down, and I had no choice but to let my parents cover the repair cost.
All that, and THEN I get to consider that I am still waiting on God to provide the final $3000 needed to send me to do His will! Wait a minute God, why all this stress?! Shouldn't I hate money right now?!
But that's just it: I don't. And its all because I have seen so clearly in the past months how much God can use money to bless people, or challenge people, or transform them. My faith has grown indubidably as I have sat here and done the math and come to realize that is impossible for me to make ends meet unless something big changes; and yet I am somehow fine with the idea that.... something big is going to change. I don't know what it is, but its coming. And the only way I know its coming is because I am confident that I am walking in the will of the Lord, and thus He will make the path straight. At least that is what He promised.
And so with that, I do hearby declare money as a good thing. A thing that we have to be careful with, a thing that we must consider carefully, but a ministry tool that we all get to have a hand in... one way or another. (Whether we have lots of 'In God We Trust's to read or not!)
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