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.