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.”

Bugs

I have never been a fan of bugs. Now, that doesn't mean I turn into a screaming 3-year-old at the sight of a spider or creepy crawly thing. It just means that I hate bugs and the instant it comes into my sight, it can be prepared to see the white light.

I have learned a lot about bugs in Africa. I have played myth busters and can officially bust the myth that flies live longer then 24 hours and the majority of the population lives between my house and taxi stop. I have learned to keep a shoe very close by because roaches are fast and come out of no where. But most importantly I have learned, size DOES NOT matter. The smallest mosquito buzz can cause you to lay awake for hours(for fear of waking up looking like you've come down with chicken pox again). And the smallest microscopic bug can cause you to spend 8 straight hours in the bathroom. It will leave you bedridden for the next 4 days. It will cause you to curl up in the fetal position and find yourself crying out the lyrics to the song Healer by Kari Jobe(yes, I did do this and had tears running down my face with every word).

Never have I been in so much pain and never have I been so completely humbled. As I lay in my bed, blinking away tears and seriously considering getting on a plane and flying back to the states, I had a wake up call. One of the ladies who works for transformation love came in and told me I had someone calling asking how I was feeling. I soon found out this lady calling, was one of the TLove beneficiaries. A lady who I had just visited and prayed over the week previous because she is suffering with HIV and currently has bone TB. 

This lady suffering with a disease that could probably end her life, was calling me. The stupid white american girl with a couple bugs living in her. The compassion of this woman and the women here in TLove is absolutely overwhelming. I am humbled and blessed everyday. Even in the midst of feeling like death, these women have taught me to be thankful. To praise God in every situation and pour out his love in the meekest way I can.

Coffee Shop Thoughts

Memorial day.

It’s not just another day for bbqs (although if we’re being honest, I’m really missing that part)

It’s a day to remember those who have sacrificed their lives for America.

Even though the day is just beginning back home and almost over for me, I am so thankful for this day. Being in Ethiopia puts a completely new meaning to Memorial Day for me. On a daily basis I see poverty and hear stories of people who have no other choice then to live in the conditions they do. They didn’t have troops who fought for freedom. They don’t have a country where they can come and go as they please. They have a country that finds no desire to increase their technology or living conditions. They are a country so rich in water, yet I am on day 24 of no running water at my house. They do not have access to the knowledge or have the will to seek out other options. They don’t have the choice to chose what cell phone company they want to use or which is the best Internet provider, because well, there’s just one.

The government owns them. They don’t have the option to have an option.

Today I am remembering not only the people who gave and GIVE their lives to give me an option. I’m thanking God every second for the gift of knowing freedom (and not just in the worldly sense).

Just 10 Minutes

As I sit on my bed, in my quiet house with nothing but the clicking of my fingers and rotating of the fan, I can’t help but take a deep long breath. After 24 hours of…well let’s just call it quality time with my shintbet (toilet in Amharic) the last thing I wanted to do was go traipsing through the Kore area all morning visiting people in their homes.

I know what you might be thinking, how can this girl be a missionary? She doesn’t even want to visit people. But stick with me. I promise it’ll get better.

I grabbed my chuck taylors, a bottle of water, threw some PB(pepto bismol) in my pocket,  put on my sunglasses and set out to do my best to put a smile on my face. As we left my compound and made our way for the main taxi road, I felt this immense release of sickness and increased strength. Something I haven’t known for a couple days.

We began our 20 minute walk into the Kore area, or the streets of Jesus as I like to call it. I have never been able to truly picture how it was while Jesus was alive, until I walked down these roads. Children come running and screaming and want to just say hi and touch your hand because you are white; then run away with a smile from ear to ear because the forenjee just said hi and touched their hand. You see lepers lying sprawled out on the ground, walking on their hands or begging for money. At any given moment you can feel the stares of 20 eyes upon you, watching your every move.

As you enter into the “neighborhood” you become extremely aware that you aren’t in Kansas anymore. The homes are about 6x6 foot mud huts with a piece of metal to shield from the rain and sun. The smells of bodily waste running down the walkway, injera cooking and freshly laid donkey “presents” are enough to make you want to vomit. But quietly you cover your nose and breath as little as possible from your mouth.

We made our way from house to house. It wasn’t until the second home that I became aware of this overwhelming joy in my heart, a joy that has never been there. Home visits have always been rough for me. I’m germ-a-phobic and believe not only in God, but bleach and hand sanitizer. Seeing the conditions these people live in makes my skin crawl and completely breaks my heart. A small part of me wants to avoid home visits at all costs because of the reminder of just how absolutely poverty-stricken these people are. But today, today was different. Like I said before I found absolute joy today. As I prayed over a woman who has ovarian cysts, knowing she will never be able to pay to have them removed, I felt the presence of God. I became so overjoyed with watching how God is transforming these women’s lives, how knowing him makes them so addicting to be around. They understand what it means to come around those who are sick and spend time creating relationships. They aren’t in a rush. They take time to appreciate what they do have and glorify God for it.

I fell so deeply in love with this ministry today. So deep in love with how God uses us, ordinary people, to do His extraordinary work in His timing.

Oswald Chambers once said, “It is ingrained in us that we have to do exceptional things for God, but we do not. We have to be exceptional in the ordinary things of life and holy in the ordinary streets, among ordinary people-and this is not learned in five minutes”

If you are the sun, I want to be the moon

I’ll never forget that sound. The sound of a crying 2 year old screaming at the top of her pediatric lungs, which seems to pierce the ear drums of anyone in a quarter mile radius. Screaming to be held. Not just held by anyone, but the screams to be held by her mother. The only issue, her mother will never wrap her arms around this little girl, her seven-year-old sister or estranged husband again. Her and her sister are now one of the 16.6 million children orphaned by HIV, this disgusting virus that overtakes your body and quickly turns a cold into a death sentence.

Three weeks ago, I experienced my first Ethiopian Orthodox funeral. I can say that was not something I’ve ever had on my bucket list. I watched for an hour and a half, completely confused at what exactly was going on and completely heart broken at the same time. I watched people come from all over the Korah area to pray over this dead body and beg that she be allowed into heaven. I watched people fall on their faces believing this was the only way she would meet Jesus.

What many of them don’t know is that for the last year she has heard a different way; a free way. As I sat there watching the scene unfold before me, my heart broke. Begging and pleading for eternal life is not what was intended for us as humans. I don’t know if she ever fully embraced grace and mercy and freedom. But what I do know is I am so thankful for the ministry in which God has called me to be a part of. A ministry who believes that transformation of life (and spirit) comes through love, despite what you believe.

A Shepherd and an Ox

As he pulled his 40 something year old body out of bed, he stretched and started planning his day. He got dressed, kissed his wife goodbye and got into his car to head for the countryside. 5 minutes into his drive he quickly turned his car back around, realizing he didn’t pray for God’s protection on his journey. After arriving home to pray, he kissed his wife once more and headed back out. The long road was mostly empty, except for an occasional car. As he stared ahead he made his way up a hill as he came over the hill the only sight was the oncoming red and yellow front of a bus...

12 people died that day because one man tried to save a young shepherd and his ox.

As I walked down the hallway I pulled the small hand of a 6 year old closer to me. I followed 3 men down the hallway of a hospital. As I looked around I couldn’t help but relate this building to an extremely run down insane asylum. Large metal doors with small placards told what proceeded behind each door. Broken benches lined the walls with helpless bodies lying sprawled out. As we made our way to the fourth floor I released the small hand and guided him outside along with his sister, to where they would not be able to witness what I was about to see. I followed the 3 men into a large room filled with people. As I walked in I became aware of the common gaze that falls upon me due to my foreingee skin. 20+ eyes stared at me as I made my way over to the bed of the man who only days before, was on the verge of death. He held out his hand to great me and as I reached out to return the greeting he latched on and began to tell me his story. As he spoke I couldn’t help but notice the IV bags hanging from nails above his bed, the drainage/catheter bags lay in plastic bowls scattered around the floor and along the wall the scurrying of roaches raised the hair on my arms.

A huge knot formed in my stomach as I held this mans hand. He was hit head on by a bus and somehow survived. Although he suffered internal bleeding, a separated shoulder, 4 broken ribs and head lacerations, he was alive.

As I prayed over him in hushed tones, knowing I was breaking the rules of the hospital, I thanked God for this miracle. I prayed and thanked God for the ability to see His work and marvel in the glory of His power. There are days I still wonder why I'm here. This day I didn't. I am learning to experience God in a fullest form. It's a journey and I'm hanging on for dear life.