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May 29th

A year ago today I was on my way to Gainesville, Georgia, embarking on a journey that proved to change my life. That day I met nineteen people, and even though I was scared out of my mind, they were absolutely incredible. They became family, some of which are still some of my best friends. Four days later we were on a plane headed for a tiny country in southern Africa. That summer I was challenged physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. I grew, and I continued to grow after I came back.

Now, one year later, this summer cannot look anymore opposite than the last. I’m not in the process of meeting nineteen incredible strangers that will change my life and outlook on the world. I’m not on my way to a country halfway around the world. I’m staying here, right in north Georgia. This is what my day looks like, almost every day: wake up, go to class, drive an hour to work, deal with unruly children at a daycare, drive an hour back to school, and then go to bed. Then I do it again the next day. Even though this summer has turned into a never-ending routine that isn’t exactly as exciting as being in Africa, that doesn’t mean I can’t grow like I did there. That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t push myself. It’s time I’ve challenged myself to grow here just as much as I grew there.

Being a creeper has its perks :)

I'm a creeper. It's a fact. But it comes in handy sometimes. I've been able to see what's going on in Nsoko and what awesome things Pastor Gift is doing there.

First, let's talk about Zodwa. She's around 18 and works in Pastor Gift's house. That's really about all I knew about her. She was quiet, plus she didn't know much English. Little did I know, she had an incredible story. Me being a creeper, I found a blog about her. It was written in April of 2009, so it was a few months before we got to Nsoko. At the age of ten, her mother died. Her siblings had all left, whether they lived somewhere else or were just gone. She was all alone. She cleaned houses to survive, and that sustained her needs for about 4 years. Then she had to resort to the inevitable. She had to begin selling her body. She was 14 years old, y'all. And that's the fate for SO many of these young girls. It's either that or death. So, she decided to fight for her life and stay alive. This blog was written less than a year ago, 2 months before we arrived, and Zodwa was still selling her body to survive. I would have never known. We knew her as Pastor Gift's helper. A nanny. A housekeeper. By employing Zodwa and letting her live with them, Pastor Gift literally saved her life. Even with the economy now, we don't realize the extent of what not having a "job" can do. They have to use the only means they have to survive, and for the women/girls, that is their bodies.

Next, we'll talk about the translators... Nelly, Thandie, Innocent, Majabane, and Mxolisi (there's a click in there, therefore I can't say it... most of us called him Nisi.) Thandie's been working for Gift for a while now as well as Mxolisi. Thandie's one of the most beautiful women of God I've ever met. She gets it. She has a son and she's able to provide a decent life for him because of her employment by Pastor Gift. Her sister, Nelly, began translating for us about half way through the trip. We already loved her and had built relationships with her, she just wasn't our translator until later. She's still employed by Pastor Gift and able to provide for her precious son, Phiwa. And our team raised enough money for her to go to school to be a secretary :) The cool thing about Pastor Gift and his ministry to his own team is that he usually picks people that don't really "get it." Majabane, for instance. I don't think he had a real relationship with God until he worked for Gift about halfway through our trip. He saw the guys on our team and really saw what it meant to be a man of God. He gets it now. He understands what it means to be in love with the Lord. It's so awesome. And as for Innocent, he's just awesome. He's got a smile that just lights up the room.

Being the creeper that I am, I found some recent Swazi pictures and ran across one of a girl around 16 that we ministered to. Her name is Nombali. And... she now works for Pastor Gift as a translator. I love seeing how God is working and changing the lives of these young women. Not only does this prevent her having the same fate as Zodwa, but she's going to be face to face with scripture everyday while she translates. She's going to grow just like Majabane did. I'm so excited for the opportunities she's going to have as she works for Pastor Gift.

A Burning Passion

I’ve been confused for a while now what I want to do with my life. Africa kinda turned my world upside down. While I was there, and while being back, God put a fire in my heart for missions. I would absolutely love to make a “career” out of it. But it has its downfalls. First... my family. Not only would it be hard for them for me to be overseas, but it would be hard for me as well. Same goes for friends. Second, I don’t want to raise a family overseas. I went to a debriefing program about a month ago and saw a few families that raised children overseas. I realized in that week of seeing what sacrifices their kids have had to make that I don’t want that for my kids. Those are really the biggest two things that are holding me back.

I think I had come to terms to staying here and living out my life in the states. But since that realization, God’s been throwing me for loops and tugging on my heart ever since. The family thing… it really doesn’t get easier. I don’t want to put an ache in my family’s hearts. At all. But there are sacrifices that you make when you submit your life to the Lord. Maybe this has to be one of those sacrifices. I don’t know. I haven’t really worked that one out yet. The thing about raising my own family overseas and having MKs…. I still don’t want that. But God’s given me this strange peace about the possibility of not having my own family. Which is big. That’s the one thing that I’ve always wanted. My own kids. Now it’s like I’ve had this weird peace about it. I’ve realized that I’d be ministering to children if I went overseas. Those kids would be my kids.

Tonight at chapter, two great things happened. First, my sweet sister, Caitlin, shared something that’s been on her heart. At Sunday school this past weekend, someone read a book, and one sentence really stuck out to Caitlin.

“Go live your heart today.”

She said that God puts desires in your heart for a reason, and sometimes you just gotta let go of what your head is telling you and follow your heart. I love that. God put these desires in my heart for a reason. That doesn’t mean I’m going to jump the gun and move to Africa next week. But it does remind me of this truth, and opens my heart to the possibility of a missionary life. Second, my other sweet sister, Kerry, shared about her mission trip to Haiti. I was able to relate with everything she said. I cried a bit, (which we all know isn’t a surprise) not only because of what she said was incredibly touching, but it reminded me of Nsoko and the piece of my heart that I left there. It reminded me of the passion in my heart for missions and for the unreached, and it made that passion burn that much more. There’s been a battle in my mind and heart about what’s going to happen and what my future’s going to look like. At times I’m okay with not knowing. Others, it’s kind of frustrating, and I just want to know. But I’m trying to let that go. I’m trying to let go, and let God.

God's Faithfulness

Yes, it’s been for freaking ever since I’ve blogged. Sorry. And as a warning, this is long.

It’s always crazy to see how the Lord works and how faithful He is when He doesn’t tell you the whole story, but tells you that it’s going to be okay. I’ve learned that with every obstacle in my life, but I always seem to forget. However, God has a funny way of reminding me when I need it most.

Case in point, this past Christmas… I got some crazy news from some random guy that my mom was his birthmother. Seems like some wild plot from a Lifetime movie, am I right? I thought it was a complete joke or scam. But I couldn’t help but realize how much he looked like my mom, and me, for that matter. The only thing to do was talk to my mom. Sounds easy, right? Wrong. It is for me at least. I don’t do confrontation. It’s the one thing I cannot handle. I was absolutely scared to death. I kept fighting with God, wondering why it had to be me and why I had to be the one responsible with this news. I didn’t understand; I didn’t think I could take it. I know that everything the Lord does is good, but I was still scared to death. What if my dad didn’t know and it somehow split up my family? Several thoughts came to mind, but I had to keep reminding myself that God is good. Always good.

I found an awesome devotional in my new awesome Bible, and it had the perfect passage that gave my heart hope. It said, “There will be times in life when we can’t see the trail. Times when we get sidetracked by a big bump in the road. But we can rest assured that in those times, God will always takes us by our sweaty palms and lead us safely on.” I didn’t see the trail. I didn’t understand what the heck God was doing, but I had to trust that He would take my sweaty palms and lead me the safest way. I knew I couldn’t just ignore my possible half brother, and I would have to talk to my mom. I knew that was where God was leading me. And I knew that He would be faithful.

I can’t tell you how many times I reminded myself of that when I was getting ready to confront my mom. It took at least a week since I had to talk to my mom alone because I wasn’t sure if my dad knew, and that proved harder than I thought. The night I was going to talk to her fell through because she got home from work early. Finally I was able to talk to her like a week later. I thought I was going to throw up all day long. My body obviously doesn’t handle nerves well. She came in my room and sat on my bed because I texted her while she was at work that I needed to talk to her about something. I tell her the story of how JP contacted me and how he said she was his birthmother. She didn’t say anything and finally said she wondered if that day would ever come. It was official, I have a half brother. Then I saw how faithful God was, yet again. She was completely honest with me and said that the baby’s father didn’t want to have anything to do with it, and she thought the baby could have a better life with someone else rather than a single mother working at Kroger. Not only that, but she said that she told my dad before they got married. So, he already knew and accepted it and our family wasn’t going to fall apart. God is good.

Through them getting to communicate as well as me communicating with JP and his adopted mom, I saw how incredible God is and how amazing it was to play a part in their “reunion.” My mom was free. She had been carrying this around as a secret, and she was finally able to be free with everyone. She had wondered for 27 years whether she had done the right thing and if the baby she had carried for 9 months and given birth to was okay. Now she knew he had flourished in a loving home. JP was free as well. He had always known that he was adopted because his parents had been open with him, so he had wondered for 27 years if he was just some mistake and had been a burden to someone. There was a piece of his heart missing. Now he knows that he wasn’t just some bad mistake, that my mom had loved him enough to try and make the best decision for his own good. His heart is whole and he’s been smiling more now than he ever has been. Because God used me, my mom is free and JP doesn’t have a gaping hole in his heart anymore. Are there any more blessings God could have showered on us? Yes, yes there were. Turns out JP’s mother wasn’t able to have children, and three adoptions had already fallen through. They didn’t think they were going to have kids. But then she received a son, the greatest gift in the world. My mom changed her life forever. I don’t think the kid could have gotten a better mother. She brought him up in a loving, Christian home, and she would do anything for him. She sent my mom a loving letter and told her what a priceless gift she had given her. My mom knew that she had made the right decision, and realized what an unbelievable impact on others that decision had made. God is good. God is faithful.

And it doesn’t end there. For 27 years, JP had the dream of meeting his birthmother. A dream he probably thought would never come true. A week ago, that dream did come true. He met his birthmother. And I met my half brother. After lots of tears from his mother, my mother, and everyone else, our family has grown. Not many people get a new family for Christmas. We did :)

My path might have been difficult, but God led me safely on. He was faithful. He allowed little ol’ me to help change the lives of so many people, my mom and new brother being two of them. I can’t tell you how bad I didn’t want to listen to God and wanted to take the easy way out. Think if I had. Think of all these blessings we would have missed out on. God knows what He’s doing. God is always good. He is always faithful.

This one's for you, Becca....

This is why I love fall in Dahlonega, and I told you I'd take pictures for you :)

Contentment

Ah, contentment. Something the Lord has been trying to drill into my head ever since I've been back from Africa, and only very recently have I let it sink in. When I got back I was depressed, sad, angry, and just did not want to be here. I think deep down, I wanted to feel that way. I wanted to come back changed, and maybe that meant being depressed if I wasn't in Africa. I think somehow I thought that if I tried to be content here, I'd go right back to the person I used to be, unchanged, and this summer wouldn't have made a difference in my life and how I live it.
I kept thinking about joy and how so many Africans had it despite their circumstances. I mean heck, I even blogged about it. I LOVED that they had so much joy when they had nothing. They found joy in their circumstances, yet I couldn't turn that around and look at it in my own life.
Maybe my circumstances weren't what I hoped they were. I was sad b/c I missed Africa and the people that I grew to love there. I wanted to be back there holding those children, spending time with our translators, and having a blast with my team. It's also so easy to forget your problems in Africa. We were thousands of miles away from our problems. Being here, we have to face them. Even though I may not have wanted to be here, why couldn't I find joy here? I think I was just too stubborn to see the joys in life here. I didn't want to be joyful. Deep down, I wanted to mope around and not be happy. And the devil used every opportunity he could to keep me there. It took some great friends who never gave up on me and gave me the kick in the butt I needed to get me to snap out of it. In all that mess, I lost focus on God and my relationship with Him, and I hurt people close to me that I lo.
When these realizations hit me, I knew something had to change. I wanted to change. And God really changed my heart in so many ways. I'm content with being here, in America. I'm joyful here. I worked at my daycare the other day and at recess I sat on the playground where the kids were playing. Anthony, who happens to be black, was apparently tired and decided to sit with me. Then he layed his head in my lap. It brought me back to Africa (not just cause he's black) because kids would always just sit with me or lay on me. It's one thing I missed most. And in that moment, with Anthony laying on me, I knew I was in fact content here. I even knew that if I was to never make it back to Africa, never see my kids again, I'd be okay. I had a peace about it. God blessed me with an incredible experience that I'm thankful for, not something that leads me to be discontent with where He has me right now. I'm not just content here, I'm joyful as well, and I want to be here.

June 12th

When insomnia kicks in, sometimes I decide to write. I know it's been awhile, but I'm writing now :). And since it's late (after 4am) I'm just going to copy some out of my journal. It was the end of our first week in Nsoko... "Today our task was manual labor. Half of the group went to Manzini (city about an hour and a half from Nsoko) to stay at the white house (the house owned by AIM) and half stayed here to work on building a house and doing stuff for Pastor Gift. Anna, Zech, and I helped Pastor Gift with some concrete stuff that lasted around noon (We made a cover for his septic tank, and put some concrete next to some water spickets). Later, we were talking to Nelly, Thandie's sister (Thandie was our translator) and decided to go on a walk. I stupidly wore my Old Navy shower shoes and they absolutely killed my feet. I have really painful blisters from the strap between my toes and also close to the heels of my feet. They were full of dirt and just painful. The walk was great besides the pain, but the whole time I had to think about how I'm blessed to have shoes and that many of them, especially the children, don't. I have no room to complain when they have so much less that I do. Then, later, I walked barefoot (seeing how I couldn't wear my shoes b/c of the blisters) to the fire pit with a little girl. I didn't know there were prickly thorns EVERYWHERE on the ground and they hurt SO bad. Once I got out there, I had to come right back (and you might be thinking, "what was the point of going out there then? well, I'm asking myself the same thing) and there was no way around it. The girl I was with didn't have shoes, and I could tell the thorns hurt her just as badly, so I carried her on my back which added to the pain b/c of the extra weight. While I walked back, I kept thinking that Christ suffered so much for us, the VERY least I could do was take a little pain and not complain if it meant this little girl wouldn't be in pain."
And the next day, I had to hike a mountain. Sound painful? Indeed it was. But God taught me a whole through my pain and many illnesses, and I wouldn't take them back for anything. God broke me. Physically. He physically broke me so that I could relate to the Swazis in ways that my teammates maybe weren't able to relate to them. I knew what kind of pain was caused from not wearing shoes. I became so much more aware of whether a child had on shoes and if their feet were in any pain. So many times I carried a kid on my back even if it wasn't comfortable after awhile b/c I knew they would have to walk barefoot otherwise. I just couldn't put them down. And I think I had a cold or some sort of sickness 85% of the time I was there. Not all that fun, but God was able to let me relate to them. So many of them were sick. Dying even. It made me thankful for my life and that I did merely just have a cold when the majority of the people we came across who were coughing or had cold-symptoms probably had TB. Being in Africa and seeing the pain and the sickness and the death makes you so much more thankful just for life. I'll never take my life for granted again. God moves even in sickness, even in pain.

Isabel's story

Remember Bongiwe, the girl that slept on me the first full night we were in Nsoko? Here's a different person's perspective on it. Isabel was Gift's assistant. She works with AIM and had been in Nsoko months before we got there. Here's her story...

Last night there was a knock on the door from the Real Life leader here. He said, "there are kids that haven't gone home and now they are sleeping...what should I do?" So he took them home. Then this morning they were already back so early. When asked about their mother, "She never came home last night. She was out drinking all night," and the father recently died from AIDS. These girls are so young. One is only 9 and she is taking care of her 2-year-old sister. They hadn't eaten since lunch provided from the carepoint yesterday at 1. It was now Sunday at 10 am. Pastor Gift's wife, Philile, made a big bowl of porridge for them to eat. I sat and made sure the baby got to eat and that the dog didn't take her food away. The other children that were around finished eating and went off to play at the other end of the property, leaving this two-year-old to finish eating all alone. I sat with her as she slowly brought the oversized spoon to her little mouth and licked off all of the porridge from it. After she had eaten all her stomach could take, she sat playing with a little twig from the ground. She was leaning on my leg and was looking so tired. I spoke to her in what little Siswati I know, but still nothing was said from her. Eventually she was in my lap, laying there as this tiny person that deserves so much more than she is receiving at "home". She fell asleep in my arms. This tiny little girl. As I was holding her my heart broke. The tears wouldn't stop coming. My already stuffed up nose was gathering more snot, but I just didn't care. What if this was my daughter, my sister, my niece? There are so many thoughts that run through my head. I want to fix this situation but what would that look like? What do you do? What can I do? And I still have no answer. The only thing I know to do is to love this tiny person that God has created. To be Jesus with skin on.

It was so weird seeing this blog tonight, and being able to read about Bongiwe's homelife. Her mother's wasting money on alcohol, father's dead, and she's left taking care of her siblings. I remember someone getting upset with all the injustice that we were seeing and one of the leaders said, "It's just the situation they're in." She said it like it wasn't a big deal. Well, yes, it is the situation they're in but it's not fair when we have so much and they have so little. It's not Bongiwe's fault that her mother does drugs and that she's not able to eat days at a time. I wish I could make a difference in her life. I want to go back so bad to make a difference. To show her more of God's love, more of the unconditional love that she doesn't find at home. My heart is completely broken for her. I feel helpless here. I wish I could do more.

Where do I go from here?

Throughout high school I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life. God had blessed me with a talent, and I wanted to use it and make a career out of it. I decided I was going to illustrate children's books... sounds pretty awesome, huh?
God first started pulling me in another direction when I started working at a daycare. Those kids melted my heart... well some of them anyway. I started questioning my future. What the heck am I supposed to do with my life? I considered changing majors, being a teacher, going into children's ministry... something. I realized that I hate doing art if I'm getting paid for it, and if it became a job I knew I'd come to despise it. I realized I didn't have a passion for it; I was just good at it and enjoyed it.
So, what to do? I just continued on the art path. And to tell you the truth, I think it was because I knew it would be easier. Yeah, I know. Then I signed up to go to Africa. Started questioning whether I could be a missionary. I thought there was no way that would happen, so pushed it out of mind. Then I went to Africa. It stole my heart. Then I had to leave. I can't tell you how much I didn't want to. I knew I could have moved there and been perfectly happy. When I got back, I was a wreck. I wanted to go back so bad. I felt God calling me to live there. Maybe not in Nsoko, but somewhere in Africa. Then after a while I started questioning that. I still missed Africa just as much, but knew I'd miss my friends and family if I moved halfway across the world for at least a year.
What to do? Then I started thinking about maybe doing graphic design stuff at a church and going on their missions. Sounds pretty cool, right? These past few weeks, I've missed Africa so much. It's been intensely tugging on my heart. I feel like I can't be happy unless I'm there. With His children in Africa. 2 months is just not enough. Everything in me wants to hop on a plane and take a visit to Nsoko. Even if I had more than $7 in the bank, this is just not feasable. At this point, I want to live in Africa. Maybe for a year. Maybe for 2. Maybe for even more longterm. But I don't know. I don't know what God has in store for my life. I can't keep choosing the easy way. Africa certainly is not the easy way. Getting my parents' approval is just one of many obstacles. But God is bigger than obstacles.
I miss Africa. God's put that country on my heart so intensely that I can't see myself doing any other thing with my life. Yet, I'm still confused, and I'm still lost.

I Need Africa More than Africa Needs Me

So, you know that video on the Mocha Club website called "I Need Africa More than Africa Needs Me"? If not, watch it here. It describes exactly the way I feel about Africa and the impact it made on me.
When I signed up for the trip I had this notion in my head that these people needed me. I've seen the poverty commercials on television... there's so much heartache, right? So much disease? So much pain? So much hurting? Of course they need me. Of course they need my team. Of course they need our help. And even as the trip drew nearer, I continued to have these thoughts in my mind. We were going to do so much for them. These children don't have parents. They depend on other kids to survive. They need our love. They need our help. All I was thinking was, "How can I help? How can I make a difference?" I thought I was needed. These people have nothing, right? They fight just to fill their bellies once a day. They need my help, right? I have so much I can offer. I come from America for crying out loud. We have more things than we know what to do with. They need me.
Being there for two months, my whole perception was flipped upside down. I need them more than they need me. Much, much more. The joy these people had was incredible. They literally have nothing, yet they have so much joy, so much faith, and so much that they're thankful for. "I bought into the lie that circumstance defines happiness," but it does not. Like I said, these people have nothing, their circumstances are unimaginable. You'd think there'd be no happiness, no joy, no laughter, no smiles. All I saw in Africa were smiling faces, all I heard was laughter. It was incredible. Their faith was incredible. One lady we met on a home visit couldn't get out of bed and she'd been having migraines for months. She was in incredible pain, but I was blown away by the faith she had. She had so much to complain about, so much pain, yet she was rejoicing and praising her Father for the life she'd been given. And she had faith that He would heal her, and if not, it was okay, because there's be no suffering in Heaven. Would you be content and okay with having a migraine every day for the rest of your life? I know I wouldn't. But she was.
They showed us more love than we could have ever shown them. They changed my life. I realized I was the one that needed them. They showed me so much about how my joy should not depend on my circumstances. And I have not been living that out very well. I'm completely broke, and even though they showed me so much about that not mattering, I've been completely stressed and not finding any joy anything because of my circumstances. Who cares if I have no money? Who cares if I can't eat Chickfila whenever I have a craving? Who cares if my bill payments are a little late? They don't have food, yet they find joy in life. They don't let their circumstances determine their joy. They are full of smiling faces even though they are in the depths of poverty. I've been stressed over not having enough money for rent and bills and dues and groceries and I'm pretty sure it's been hard for me to crack a smile. But why? I should find joy in life. I should find joy in the little things God brings me. I want every single thing I saw in Africa to penetrate my heart so that I practice what I've been taught. I don't want my joy to be determined by the "next thing" I need or want. I want to be content and find joy in the circumstances that I'm in.

I need Africa. I was changed. They may need our help, but as for me, I need Africa more than Africa needs me.

Isaiah 55:10-11

A sweet, sweet friend shared this passage with me that helped her while she was in San Antonio for two months. Like me, she had a hard time knowing how much effort, heart, and time she put in her ministry, yet never knowing if it would make a difference...

"As the rain & the snow come down from heaven, & do not return to it without watering the earth & making it bud & flourish, so that it yields seed forth sower & bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire & achieve the purpose for which I sent it." -Isaiah 55:10-11

She said we were there to "plant seeds" which I've heard time and time again, but it's oh so true. While I was in Swazi, I think I kept missing the point, missing the big picture. Sometimes I just thought, 'All I'm doing is playing with some kids'....'All I'm doing is holding her hand'...'All I'm doing is showing her my love.'...'How can that make a difference?' But we were sharing GOD's love. Not just our own. Sometimes it's discouraging to do short-term mission work because in most cases you don't see the fruit of your work, of your effort. We were planting seeds. And that's what we were called to do. One day maybe they'll remember me holding their hand. Maybe one day they'll remember the love I showed them. And maybe they'll realize that love came from somewhere else. Maybe they'll go searching for the truth. And maybe, just maybe they'll find it. We may never see the fruit of it, but we did our part, and that should be good enough for us. We should have trust that God will do the rest, that He'll do His part.
When it was time to leave, I saw so much hurt, so much brokenness, so much heartache. I thought, 'What was the point?' What was the point of staying for two months, building incredible relationships, only to leave. Only to break their hearts. Only to cause pain. Why? What was the point? Well, I don't know how God's going to work in it, but I know He will. I know He'll use that brokenness, that heartache to bring glory to Himself. I know He'll use that to change their lives. I know He'll come through and do His part. I have to put trust in Him that it wasn't for nothing. Because at the end of the day you have to have faith, you have to have trust.

Philippians 1:3

"I thank my God every time I remember you." You have no idea how incredibly thankful I am for you guys. You were with me each step of the way. Before I went to Swazi, you gave. You gave your prayers, you gave financially, you gave your encouragement, you gave your love. While I was in Swazi, you continued to give. You prayed. You fought for me and for my team. You were with me each step of the way, and I was always thinking of you. You guys went to Swazi this summer too, and for some of you, a little part of you is still there. And now, I'm back in the States. Depressed. In a foul mood. Not any fun to be around. Yet you still give. You give your love, you give your prayers, you give your encouragement. I would have never been able to do this without you. You helped love on these children. You helped build carepoints. You helped heal the sick. You helped encourage the oppressed. You helped defend the cause of the fatherless. You helped plead the case of the widow. You. You were there each step of the way, and I could never, ever thank you enough. I'm so blessed to call you friends. I'm so blessed to call you sisters in Christ.

So much despair, yet so much beauty

One of the things we discussed while we were in Swazi was how much the country reminded us of death and despair, yet how incredibly beautiful God made it. When I first got back to America, I was taken aback by how green it was. I didn't really fully realize it in Swazi, but everything is brown. There's dust everywhere. There's no grass, and the little grass that was there is was brown. There are thorn bushes everywhere and so many thorns on the ground (trust me, my feet know all too well about those darn thorns). There were these trees/bushes that we called death bushes. They were intense. The thorns on them were at least 4 inches long. But everything was death and despair, yet it was so incredibly beautiful. Sometimes we just had to stop and look in awe at what God has made. And the stars there. They were unlike anything I've ever seen. I wish we could have captured it so we could share it with you guys, but that's kind of the beauty of it too. It just can't be captured because it's so incredible.
The landscape of Swazi is so much like the people there. So much despair, yet so much beauty. We saw sickness. We saw helplessness. These people have nothing. They wear the same clothes day in and day out simply because they can't afford more clothes. There are children running around naked just because there is no money for any kind of clothing. People sleep in freezing cold weather, with intense winds just because they don't have money to fix the gaping holes in the sides of their houses. We met one lady on a home visit that can barely walk because of some kind of illness, so all she can do is lay on the concrete floor inside her hut. There were no mattresses, no mats, just concrete. And the house was falling apart. I can't even describe it. I said there were gaping holes, but imagine ten times worse than that. And the night before was one of the coldest nights we had, probably below freezing. And the wind was insane; we could hear the roof of the center blowing and shaking because it was so windy. We got to sleep in nice, warm sleeping bags while this woman and her children possibly had a cover, if that. She slept on the cold, concrete floor. And I can't even imagine when it rains. Like I said, despair, poverty, brokenness, sickness, death. And even with all these things these people are fighting against, they find so much joy in life and so much joy in the Lord. So much despair, yet so much beauty. Their faith was incredible. Inspiring. These people have nothing and need so much, and they have so much faith that their Father will provide. We went there to try and be a blessing to them, but we left with them being such a bigger blessing to us than we could ever dream of being. The things they were thankful for was incredible. If you were to ask someone here what they were most thankful for, they'd say their house, their car, their iPhone, you name it. We asked the Swazis so many times what they were thankful for, and nine times out of ten they were thankful for their lives. They were grateful just to still be living. I don't know about you, but I don't really think about being thankful for my life. I don't know if it's because we don't see as much death as they do, but I definitely take my life for granted. They see death and sickness every single day so they don't take their lives for granted like we do. They know it's a huge possibility that they might not be alive the next day or that they may lose a child the next day to AIDS, or TB, you name it. And with all this, they still find joy out of life. They find joy in the little things. There was a boy at our carepoint who loved playing with a tire. He'd play with it for hours. Can you picture an American kid finding joy and contentment out of playing with a tire? All the toys they had were broken. They loved playing with this broken bicycle around the center that would most likely be in a dumpster here. It didn't have a seat. Either one or both of the pedals were missing. It only had one tire. Yet they played with it and they loved it. They find joy in so many little things that we pass off as garbage. They find such joy in life that we take for granted everyday. These people are incredibly beautiful. Their hearts are unbelievable. Their faith is incredible. So much despair, yet so much beauty.

Despair. Hopelessness. Poverty. Brokenness.

Death.

Beauty.









"From the highest of heights to the depths of the sea
Creation's revealing Your majesty..."

Neliswa

I only knew Neliswa for a month, but she instantly melted my heart. We were split into 4 ministry groups and each group went to 2 carepoints each week. Halfway through our trip, our groups were all changed around and we got new carepoints after building relationships for the past month. Needless to say, I was a little upset, but it ended up being a huge blessing, partly because of this little girl. She's absolutely precious. I only saw her 3 days. You'd think I wouldn't get that close to a kid after only seeing them 3 times, but I did. The first week we went to this carepoint, I had to stay at the center because my stomach was hurting so bad because of the worms (We didn't know they were worms at the time). Looking back, I wish I had just sucked it up because I would have gotten another day with Neliswa. The following week was my first time at that carepoint. There wasn't any food, so the gogo there wasn't expecting many kids unless they just came because they saw white people. I'm not sure why, but I was just drawn to Neliswa. She's a beautiful girl, and she's kind of different than the others.... even though her hair is super short, you can tell it's somewhat blonde. She's such a sweet girl. She would always kiss me on the cheek and forehead. If I kissed her, she kissed me back. She has one of the most beautiful smiles I've ever seen. I just love her. We would always just sit together, usually not talking because she didn't know English.
One of my favorite memories is when she came to our party (we killed a cow and fed a ton of kids and the community at a "party" we had the Saturday before we left). I held her the majority of the day. We just sat together like we did at the carepoint and sometimes we would play patty cake games. She started getting sleepy and then she slept on me for a good hour. I wouldn't give that up for anything. I don't know when the last time she was able to fall asleep in someone's arms and I'm so grateful God let me be that for her. After about an hour or so, some people were going to the grocery store nearby so I decided to go with them because Neliswa was somewhat waking up already. We got to the store and we were buying soda and stuff for all the kids that came with us. I didn't have any money so Anna bought me a Fanta. As she was handing it to me, Neliswa interceded and started gulping it down :). So, Anna got me another one. Seeing Neliswa drink that soda was one of the most precious things I've seen. Once we got back to the party, kids were all lined up getting food, so I let Neliswa go get her some food. I didn't see her for a long time. Finally, one of the buses that brought the kids to the center was back. I didn't think much of it, then later I saw Chelsea saying bye to one of her kids. I instantly thought of Neliswa and ran to bus, hoping I wasn't too late. She was in line to get on the bus to grabbed her before she could get in it. I hugged her as tight as I could and got a few kisses before the teacher told me she had to go. Ok, journal time because I have a terrible memory... "I stepped back and just thinking about never seeing her again made me start tearing up. Then some of the team came out of the house with tons of balloons and got on the bus and gave all the kids balloons. I remember thinking how unfair it was that they got to be the last ones that saw my little girl. I wanted to get on that bus, scoop her up in my arms, and never let go. A little later, I went on the other side of the bus and found Neliswa and pressed my hand against the window. She then did the same. Finally, I realized that I could open the window. I got to hold Neliswa's hand and see her beautiful smile once more. When it was time for them to go, I kissed Neliswa's forehead and then she kissed mine. I had to wave goodbye to her and it was such a hard thing to do. The girl slept on me for an hour that day. We had an instant bond at the carepoint. You can't just casually say goodbye and not have your heart broken. I walked away and tried not to think about it. Then the van drove away. Drove away with kids we'll probably never see again." Needless to say, there were tears. I will probably never see Neliswa again, but she'll always have my heart. I hate this. I hate knowing I'll probably never get to kiss her again or hold her again. I love her dearly.

Neliswa at our carepoint

At the party



Sleepy girl :)



Neliswa and her Fanta :)

Colile

She was the sweetest, funniest, loving little girl I've ever met. One that will always be dear to my heart. She and her little sister, Phetsile, were considered "mine" while we were in Nsoko. Until they met EB about halway through the trip, but Colile always remembered me. They would always run to the center, see me, and jump into my arms. It was the sweetest thing ever, I miss it so stinking much. They would NEVER wear their shoes even though had them, and I would joke with them saying the only reason they didn't wear them was so I would carry them. They really didn't know what I was saying because they didn't understand English that well, but Colile would always say, "Yes" with a huge grin on her face and start laughing. I miss the times when I would carry Colile on my back to the center from the soccer field/primary school. I miss her running up and jumping into my arms. I miss twirling her around until I was too dizzy to stand. I miss playing games with her. I miss everything about her. Her smile. Her laugh. She has such a beautiful laugh. I miss her loving heart and the way she looks after Phetsile. Colile always wanted to share her food with me. Even though she barely had anything, she'd still want to share it with me. One time she was eating a grapefruit, and made me eat part of it. Another time she was eating beans or something and made me try it. She was always sharing. Always giving. Such a beautiful heart. Eleven year olds here in America aren't like that. They're different there. Everything is different there.
I remember one day the week before we were leaving when I was holding Colile. One of the Swazis asked me about us leaving. So, I had to explain to them that we were leaving to go home... talk about depressing! Colile gave me this look like, "Are you being serious right now?" (see photo below) and then she did a fakecry on my shoulder. Even though she was faking it, it was still extremely sad and that's when it started setting in that we were leaving so soon. Gosh, I miss her so much and it breaks my heart to think about the possibility of never seeing her again. She touched my heart in so many ways and I will never, ever forget her. When I have a daughter, I'm naming her Colile. She will never leave my heart.

She just makes me smile

This is the look she gave me when I told her we were leaving the following week



The day I left



Colile, Phetsile, and I