Dream

8 hours. 8 hours of getting up about 5 times to be violently sick once again.

In the 6 months of me living in Ethiopia, I think I have spent about 4 of them sick. And now with only 7 days left in this country, I find myself dreaming all night of being back in a country where I don’t have to worry about getting a parasite or amoeba from everything.

I won’t have to worry about soaking my fruits and vegetables for 30 minutes in disinfectant before eating them.

I won’t have to run back to my house, after walking half a mile, to get toilet paper just in case I have to use the bathroom at the nearest restaurant. 

I won’t have to put in my headphones as I walk down the street to drown out the men yelling, “Hey! You! Need a husband?”-seemingly the only english phrase they know how to say. Or the little kids running after me saying “and birr or and dabo” (one birr or one bread).

I won’t have to feel guilty about not helping every single beggar that taps on my taxi window or follows me rattling the small amount of change in his hand.

I won’t have to wince as I watch the goats be dragged down the streets or as the dogs and vultures rip apart a dead donkey.

I won’t have to lay in a hard bed or get caught in the torrential down pours of rain, then walk back home to change because i have mud splatter all over me....

But yet, as I sit here and dream of all the things I won’t have to deal with, tears run down my face simply because I won’t have to deal with them.

I have 7 days left in this country and even as much as I dream of coming “home”, I realize I am home. And my last 7 days here are going to be so much harder then the 4 months I’ll be back in the states because this is where I want to be. This is where I’m supposed to be. 

To say I’m terrified about going back to the states, is a complete understatement. I’m scared I’m going to hate my friends and my family. I’m scared I’m going to cry everyday and have no one who knows what to do with me. I’m afraid I’m going to alienate myself from everyday life.

There is a mass amount of fears going on inside of me. I somewhat feel like Jonah. I feel like I know that I’m called to go back home but I feel like I’m running around like a chicken with my head cut off and that I want to find the nearest harbor and jump on a boat and hide. I don’t want to leave because I’m just so scared.

But as my friend Tamara posted in her blog, I have to have hope and I have to hold on. I’m going to keep fighting and continue to remember that he never does leave me. He never will forsake me. 

He is here holding my hand tighter more now than ever before.

"If Only You Knew..."

She sat on the edge of her bed. Tears streaming down her face and looking at her sound asleep 1 year old son. She watched him sleep knowing he would wake up screaming for food she was not able to give him. She wrapped her arms around her 6-month pregnant belly. How was she going to bring another life into this world when she couldn’t even take care of and provide for the one she already had. As she watched the sun rise she looked up and made a decision that would change the rest of her life.

She got dressed and made the trek through the mud filled Koré area to the only place she knew she could get some help fast. She needed money but couldn’t explain what for. She knew she would be denied in a heartbeat if they knew the truth.

Turning the corner she replayed in her mind over and over and over again the story she would tell.

As she walked through those church doors she asked for the person she was told to ask for and made her way to his office. As she entered tears flowed like a waterfall from her eyes. She sat down and recited her perfected lie. As she sat weeping she felt the money being placed into her hand. She looked down and grasped on tight, letting the tears flow even greater.

As she stood up to leave the man asked if she would be willing to come to a bible study that was meeting right then. He would like to have the women pray over her and her unborn baby. She felt she had no other choice and solemnly walked in to the room filled with women.

She sat for 2 hours listening to these women who have absolutely nothing, cry out to this absent being. With shouts of “Yahweh! Holy is your name!” “And praise you oh Lord, the one who saves!” She watched as these women found strength and comfort in their cries. She watched their faith and became so enthralled.

She slowly got to her knees and let hands of unknown women be placed upon her. She began to weep and said over and over again in her mind, “if only you knew…”
*************
4 months go by and she finds herself in front of that same church. Only this time with a baby strapped to her back. A baby who shouldn’t be here. A baby who 4 months previous was carried in her mother’s womb into this very church to tell the lie to receive money to end her life.

Once more she slowly enters the room filled with women and gets on her knees. She begins to weep only this time it’s tear of joy, tears of thankfulness. For that day 4 months ago she received and embraced the gift of forgiveness and salvation and because of that day and these women, she now sits with her newborn baby, Mihert, meaning forgiveness and salvation.
**************
Today I sat looking at this drop dead gorgeous 4 year old, a girl who brings an amazing reminder to her mother each day of the gift of salvation and forgiveness. A girl who brought an amazing reminder to me of just how great a God we serve. How limitless he is and just how possible he is. A God who sees us and weeps when we weep and provides when we need provision. I know I shouldn’t be this amazed, but I love that I am. I love that I serve a God who continues to amaze me and who continues to bring me back to a place where I realize just how capable he is when we let him take the wheel. As I sat listening to her story I couldn’t help but think of all the people who have no idea the greatness of Christ. I found myself shaking my head and just saying, “if only you knew”

Beauty

They say beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder and sometimes I sit and wonder what it looks like through the eyes of God. What he sees when he looks down at his creation. Just how overwhelmed, how in love he is with us, with his creations. The things he has spent so much time sculpting and molding. The clay he has formed and made perfect in his eyes. The gold he has melted down and refined to the core. 

Today, today I sat with 8 of the most amazing, most stunning creatures ever. I cried my eyes out as I looked at them. Dirty, smelly clothing; hair a mess or tied up with a scarf. Mud encrusted feet and black unmanicured hands. 

These women scream beauty in the 1 Peter sense. Their beauty is an over flowing cup. Their gentle quiet spirits are so absolutely precious in God's eyes and their faith in Him makes them so intoxicating to be around.

These women suffer to be women of Christ. To live as an example to their children to never give up and to continue to have a faith like no other. On the days/weeks they have no food and aren't sure how they'll pay house rent or how to pay for school, they don't cry out in anger to God, they cry out in thanksgiving and faith that he will provide. They are patient. They never complain or ask for themselves. They simply open up their hearts tell their story, but end it with a full heart of thanksgiving for what they do have.

Everyday I am encouraged and empowered by these HIV positive drop dead gorgeous women. These women who trust God and fall at his feet in thanksgiving, even when there seems to be no hope.

I want that beauty. With out a doubt I envy that beauty. A beauty not of this world, but of something so out of this world. I envy what God sees in us, but I pray that others may start to see that in me. 

Faith, Hope & Love

Social media. Goodness do I have a love/hate relationship with it. I love the freedom it gives me to keep in contact with people. But on the other hand I hate the freedom it gives others to keep in contact with me…

I’ve always been a “to myself person”. I have a lot of rules about Facebook for myself. One of those being to try and never post more then once per day (sometimes I let it slide to two if there is a decent amount of time in-between).  I don’t believe in the “see more” button, because honestly if I have more to say then what can be said in two lines, it doesn’t belong on Facebook

But one of my biggest hates about Facebook, is like I said before, the freedom of it. I love the freedom of being able to share “what’s on my mind” but I hate the freedom of other people putting in their two cents about “what’s on my mind.”

I have a big fear of posting things sometimes because of what other’s think. Especially lately. To say things have been peachy is well, as far from the truth as heaven is from hell. There has been a lot of suffering and a lot of anger in my heart. Even writing that is hard.

It’s hard to get on here week after week and pour my heart out for the entire World Wide Web to read.

This week is just as difficult. There are days when I get on facebook or talk to people from home and just get fed up. It’s hard for me to not become overly upset with people when they talk about spending all this money on this or how they can’t afford the newest of this. When on a daily basis I am reminded of just how little that means. 2 months ago I struggled the most with this. I struggled with angerness towards friends at home as they told me of there late nights out dancing, while I sat at a funeral for a women who I’m uncertain really accepted just how much she was loved and cherished by God. I watched her dead cold body be prayed over and people beg for her to be allowed into heaven while at that same time some of the closest people in my life spent their time dancing and having “the time of their life.”

I struggle everyday walking past beggers saying, “you, you, forengee, forengee, give me birr”. I see the hurt, I see the pain, I see the hopelessness. But I’ve learned how to get out of that anger. I’ve learned to let this view of suffering change my heart. I’ve learned to let God refine me; to melt me down to my core and let myself be purified in His image. I’ve learned to find a joy, a joy in seeing God’s hand at work, a joy that can only be found in suffering.

Through each week I’m able to open up and pour my heart out of my weaknesses, because in those, God is most glorified. I’m able to share my stories and hope and pray that it changes someone’s heart to let theirs be broken for what breaks God’s heart. That my stories and my weaknesses can impact their lives far more then me standing on a soapbox condemning them for what I believe is wrong.  There’s a reason God tells us three things remain: faith, hope and love. There’s a reason the greatest is love.

There is love in suffering and I’m sad it took me 25 years and going halfway around the world to realize it. But I can say more then ever I am thankful for a God who gives me the freedom and the time to figure out that the suffering cup is overflowing with love, hope and faith.

I Need A Reason To Sing

….As he sits in his chair he simply hunches over and places his elbows on his knees and sinks his head into his palms.

Those palms. Dry, cracked, weathered, worn and telling a story of what was and is and has always been.

Slowly his hands fill with liquid. Slow at first then, with every second, more and more. His heart is broken.

He leans over and picks up a round object. He runs his tear soaked fingers along the object and then simply just places it in his palm. He stares at it and cups it close.

Faintly he hears the cry. “Father, please. Help me. If this waiting and pain lasts forever, I’m afraid I might let go.”…

…As she sits in her house she watches the buckets of water falling from the sky. It turns to black just as fast as it lit up and her heart skips a beat as she feels the floor rumble and hears the crack of thunder.

Tears streaming down her face she looks up and simply says, “Father, please. Help me. If this waiting and pain lasts forever, I’m afraid I might let go”….

Everything seems to be falling to pieces. The last few weeks feel like slow motion Matrix action as I watch my heart fall and shatter as they hit the floor. Nothing is what is seemed and I feel like I’m holding on with just my fingertips to this huge cliff. The pain in my arms is unbearable and I feel like just letting go. But just as I’m about to let go something comes to mind. The image of God sitting on his throne, tears down his face as his heart breaks for those who hurt. He sits with the world in his hands and listens. He waits and longs for me to call out to him for help.

Just when I’m about to let go, I remember that I have a God who waits patiently for me to allow him to come to my rescue. For him to come and with his almighty strength pull me from the cliff of death. On my days when I don’t think I can do this anymore and on the days when I “just don’t feel him anymore” I’m thankful for the reminder that we have a fighting God. We have a God who is emotional. Who hurts when we hurt, who fights for us to fall at His feet and who feels the sting of a knife through the heart, even more then we do.

What other nation is so great as to have their god near them the way the Lord our God is near us whenever we pray or call out to him? (Deut. 4:7)

Romance

Complete transparency moment- I'm a sucker for romance. Romantic movies, romantic gestures, romantic stories, you name it.

I will admit, it's gotten me into trouble sometimes. Whether it be, getting sucked into a romantic book and putting off things just to finish one more chapter. Deciding not to give a guy a chance because he is so far off the chart on what it means to be chivalrous. Or falling in love with the romantic stories of people meeting in high school and being married for 50+ years and reminded, once again, I'm 25 and no one has liked it and put a ring on it yet.

But I think the greatest romantic thing I've suckered myself into was, being a missionary. Now don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that I don't think God called me here or that I made a mistake. All I'm saying is I, like so many others, fell into the trap of romanticizing foreign missions. I had this dream that I would always be surrounded with children following me everywhere. I would have moments that people would be crying and thanking me for helping change their lives or that I would be able to walk into a person's home, pray over them and watch them rise like Lazarus-and yes I am aware I'm not God.

I had all these visions of what it would be like to be on the mission field in another country and be "fighting" the battle. Many of you may be laughing at this point and saying, "girl, I could have told you that wasn't going to happen." But I think if you dug down deep, you'd realize, you too envision Mother Teresa type moments when you think of a missionary.

You don't realize the behind the scenes moments. The moments of dropping 3 sizes in 3 months due to a very limited diet. The moments of tears running down your face when you throw up for 8 hours straight or the moments of complete and overwhelming loneliness. The moments when you realize you are face to face with the devil himself and don't even know it till he's stripped clean and left you to rot.

I have experienced all of these moments. I have also lost all romance for missions but in losing that romance, I have found a romance in a God who played out the most romantic story I could ever read. A man who loved SO deeply he didn't just say he would give everything for the one he loved, he did.

I've found a God who fought and fights the battle on a white horse right next to me and who looks at me and simply says, "You are treasured. You are sacred. You are loved and You are MINE."

1 Corinthians 13

There are days living here in Ethiopia that I wonder.

Just what exactly am I doing here?

Today. Today was one of those days. One of those days were I woke up hoping I’d finally be done with sickness. Only to realize that after finally annihilating the microscopic pests another pest known as the common cold has taken residence in my body.

With every cough I feel like I might have to revert back to my softball days and catch a pop-fly lung.

As I sit on the edge of my bed, thinking about the day, a tear falls down my face.

Why? Why me?
Why now?
Why can’t I just be well and when will it be enough?

Then I feel a hand, a hand that slows turns into a loving embrace and gently I feel the words come out of my mouth. Completeness.

I open my hands and I feel God leaning in and whispering softly to me, “Find your completeness in me. You are seeing things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror. But one day you will see everything with perfect clarity. Everything you know and are feeling is partial and incomplete. One day you will know why. You will understand everything in completeness, just as I know you in full completeness.”

“Have faith my child. I am with you and I love you.”