Flashback / Step into the scene / There’s You, and there’s a very different me /
Touchdown / You had me at believe, You did / And where would I be without You? /
I’d be packing my bags when I need to stay / I’d be chasin’ every breeze that blows my way /
I’d be building my kingdom just to watch it fade away / It’s true /
That’s me without You

… “Me Without You,” tobyMac …

Spring sailed into Shayandima yesterday on the wave of a cold front. While Friday felt as if summer had unpacked its bags early, Saturday evening played host to a biting wind that swept in and halted summer in its premature haste. Some others and myself had been sitting outside in the warm night beneath the expanse of a white tent when the cold front arrived, and now, as we go about our various activities this Sunday, we wear long-sleeves and jackets to ward off the nip of coolness that catches at our bare skin.

As Spring is wont to do, it arrives each year with two of its dearest companions: fresh changes and new experiences. Not always bad and, as it certainly is in my case at this moment, sometimes good. Our perspective determines the outcome, so even those small experiences can be transformed into something transcendent. (All right, perhaps not transcendent, but enjoyable, at the least.) Take bathroom cleaning, for instance. I just spent the past 30 minutes cleaning the ladies bathroom, as it is my weekend to so. Rather than glare in annoyance at the wide-mouthed toilet and medieval mop, I slipped my iPod into my back pocket, cranked the volume on “Footloose,” and danced a path across the tile with my broom. The time went by rather quickly, and the experience resulted in a positive euphoria at the end for having accomplished something.

Another experience presented itself yesterday evening in the form of a gala dinner at a nearby church. Cecilia, who works with me in the learning center as my monitor, attends this church with her family, so the Palmers, seven others, and myself attended the event to represent Shayandima School of Tomorrow. Prior to last night, I had never attended an African church before, so I did not have any real idea of what I was getting into that evening. Sure, I had a vague notion, but until experienced personally, all the information heard is simply background noise. Now, I can speak with knowledge borne of experience, and oh boy, was it ever an experience I will not soon forget.

The dinner was to begin at 6:00PM, but we arrived about ten minutes after that time. As we drove onto the church property, men in clothing of black and red greeted us at the gate, pointing us toward a parking area. We moved forward, passing the large, open-air white tents where the dinner was to be held. Upon parking and signing in, we were taken to our table.

The decorations and arrangements beneath the tents capture one’s attention within seconds of entering. Three tents hung above sixty round tables adorned in shades of silver, red, and black. Candles and flowers served as centerpieces, and each table setting boasted a silver platter, white plate, and a nicely placed red serviette in the center of the arrangement. The ceiling of the VIP tent held swaths of red and black fabric that swooped in from all sides into the center, where balls of matching colours hung in a cluster. An array of instruments sat at the front, awaiting the musicians that would give them a voice. The look was simply gorgeous, a perfect match to the friendly faces that greeted us wherever we looked. Eagerly we waited in our seats for the dinner to begin.

At 6:35PM, a church member stepped forward with a microphone to begin the event. I glanced around. Only half of the tables held a guest, whether it be one or eight, and people were still entering in high heels and shined leather shoes.  Was the event not meant to start thirty-five minutes ago?

The event moved forward as a praise team sang a few songs interspersed with more welcoming messages by various pastors that were there. (I counted at least five pastors affiliated with the church, but I am sure there were more of them.) Sponsors were welcomed, more songs sung, announcements and other messages given, followed by even more songs that required us to stand, clap, and dance along with the music.

In the midst of all this, programs were passed out to the guests. I eagerly looked through it, wondering what all was on the agenda. The list was quite impressive. Upon scanning the entire program, however, I noticed a vital aspect of the dinner was missing: When was the actual food to be brought out and enjoyed? Nowhere could that part of the evening be found on the program. I shrugged and returned my attention to the pastor at the front, certain it had been simply forgotten when the pages were printed.

By 9:00PM, I stared between the program and the pastor with blank eyes and an empty stomach. Had our hosts forgotten the main point of a gala dinner? My rumbling stomach certainly thought so. I had enjoyed everything thus far, but my stomach could only last so long without sustenance. As the evening’s main speaker took the microphone, I resignedly reached for my purse and shuffled through its contents in search of chewing gum. Seeing as the program listed the main speaker’s message time as lasting for the next 40 minutes, I figured I would need something to keep my stomach mildly occupied until the blessed food appeared on my plate.

At 10:15PM, the food was served at the very end of the entire program. When a lady came to our table to announce that we could take our plates to the serving tables, all of us lurched to our feet like starving wolves and ran for the buffet line. Plates piled with food, we settled back into our seats and dove in with a flourish. With the culmination of dinner, the lively evening ended.  With full stomachs and goose bumps lining our bare arms in the unexpectedly cold evening air, we hurried to the vehicles desperate to get home to our warm beds.

Now that I am contentedly sitting on my bed typing this, I can look back at the evening with a smile and a chuckle. The Africans certainly know how to have a good time, as their entertainment can attest. The night boasted a lot of singing and dancing, including an man named Shakes who spent five minutes break-dancing for the crowd after singing a couple songs. I love the excitement and enthusiasm that is maintained for hours on end. These people love to sing and praise the Lord with their voices and talents, and they are not afraid to let the world know it. As the crowd lifts “hands of praise” to God in the form of clapping, no one can keep a smile off his or her face.

A highlight was seeing Timothy, one of my students, playing the drums for the whole night. He is Cecilia’s son, and he is quite talented in the music field. I loved seeing him up there, witnessing his gift firsthand. I won’t always be here in Africa to enjoy those moments, so I’ve learned to enjoy them while I still can.

Although I cannot say for certain how much longer I will be in Africa just yet, I do know that time may be running short and that I can no longer take my time here for granted. When the future is uncertain, life moves into a hazy routine where life is not fully appreciated, and I do not want to fall prey to that mindset. Every minute spent with my students needs me to be fully involved, not lost in thoughts of trivialities.

Should God lead me elsewhere next year, then I want to look back on these last few months with fondness and a certainty that I lived each day to its fullest. Time is a tricky thing here. Months fly by before we recognize the fact. This school term has a mere four weeks remaining, followed by a one-week holiday and an eight-week final term. Time will be gone before I know it, and I cannot risk the lives of my students simply because I was not fully invested in their lives when I had the chance.

Each day here is a new experience, but if I allow myself to fall into a routine, then I miss those experiences for the gift that they are. As God’s representative here on earth, in Africa, and in this school, I have to live each moment like it is my last. As plans for next year come together, I ask that you would continue to pray for me and my mission here in Africa. Only God knows the full extent of my next step, but that does not mean I cannot start preparing my heart and mind for those changes now. With your prayers, I know I will be ready for anything God brings my way next, whether it be in Africa or elsewhere in the mission field.

Lord, I know that you called me to this place / Where your eyes are teaching me grace /
I can’t see where I’m going / But I will believe / That you’re never gonna leave /
You are always holding me

… “Let Go,” Holly Starr … 

2012 has been a year of new experiences and physical hardship, but the great thing about living for Christ is knowing that, in everything that happens, God is always there. In one of the Grade 3 Literature PACEs in the ACE curriculum, the underlying concept is that God sees everything. The PACE content speaks of how God sees the students in their offices, and some of the exercises force the students to apply the idea to their personal life. One of the questions is, “What would God like to see me doing in my office?” Of course, the answer should be something like, “God would like to see me finishing my goals” or “God would like to see me working.” The concept seems strange to some of the kids. Why would God be interested in what I do in my office? Why does He care if I finish my PACE work for the day?

The students need to be asking these questions. One of the reasons I support the ACE system is because of the lessons they teach in each PACE which encourage the students to ask questions such as these. Those questions are then passed on to us, their supervisors and monitors. Sometimes we can answer the questions easily, and other times we are forced to think before we answer because, in many circumstances, we are learning right alongside our students. Whenever I find myself doubting or questioning, I find myself recalling various PACEs that dealt with those issues, and I am reassured.

These last two weeks I have been incredibly ill. During that time, the literature PACE on God seeing everything came to mind. God knew what was going on. He saw me lying in my bed unable to stand without collapsing due to dehydration and an intense case of dizziness. He saw me in every pitiful instance that plagued my daily life for that two-week span of time, and He never left. Instead, He sent friends who came to my rescue. They brought medicine, drinks, and broth when I could finally stomach any form of food. They helped me bathe, did my laundry, changed my bed sheets almost every day. They drove 45 minute to the nearest town just to get me to a doctor. They did all of this for no other reason than that they loved me and chose to let God love me through them.

I have never been so ill in all of my twenty-four years, and I have never seen such love shown by people who are not family by blood. Just shows that God will always provide you with a family so long as you are living where He placed you and doing what He told you to do. With my family miles away on a different continent, God stepped into the picture and called in reinforcements.

We still are not 100% sure what illness I had and am still recovering from, but the general census claims cholera or a form of it. Cholera does not kill, but the dehydration that results from it can. Fortunately, my friends got me to the doctor in time. The doctor told us I needed to be in a hospital, but being an American complicated matters. Instead, this doctor went beyond general protocol and immediately put me on an IV drip. Because of that doctor, I am doing much better today.

I can now function normally, though I am still regaining strength. I still suffer from intense headaches and a few other minor issues, but I continue to regain my health with each passing day. We can only assume the bacteria that caused the illness came from the water I drank in Mozambique a few weeks back. The malaria tablets I was taking must have kept it at bay for a while, but once the doxycycline fully left my system, the bacteria had free reign. Still, the illness has passed, and I am on the road to recovery.

Since returning from Mozambique, I have been plagued with various health issues, all of which have helped to contribute to the long stint of time between this and my last blog post. Apart from that, general busyness is a major contributor, but I am now here to recall the Mozambique trip and all that happened on it. Despite all the physical trauma that stemmed from the trip, I can still look back on those 12 days and be glad that I was a part of it.

The three days spent traveling on the road were fairly uneventful. We did sleep out in the bush for one of those nights, and I faired well. I shared a tent with my friend Julie, and the two of us wound up in a fit of hysterical laughter that night. We still have no idea what was so darn funny, but we simply could not stop. The random comments from friends in other tents did not help matters, of course, but it made for a fun night.

We stayed with a family throughout our stay in Mozambique who lived just outside Vilanculous, which is a small beach town on the Indian Ocean coastline. We set up our tents on their property across from a beautiful view of a dam. Or maybe it was just a lake. I am not entirely certain, but it made for some gorgeous shots at sunset. Julie and I put our tent facing it, so we had a nice view every morning.

We spent two or so days on a stretch of beach owned by a resort that kindly let us use their facilities without actually staying there. As such, I got to sit on a shaded deck with a stunning view of the Indian Ocean for two days writing in my journal and reading. Having those days of relaxation was a nice reprieve, because the other days were spent doing missions work.

We did various things during our stay. We spent a few hours evangelizing in the markets and streets on separate days, and we also spent a day driving through the poor neighbourhoods passing out clothing and food packets. That was my favourite day of the whole trip.

I will never forget seeing the excitement on the faces of those men, women, and children as we gave them shirts and shoes. Many of them could not believe white people were just giving them stuff for free, especially shoes. One lady we gave a pair of shoes to started grinning and jumping up and down with excitement. She kept showing the shoes to her friend, constantly jumping with pure joy. All of us smiled as we drove away.

Many times we had to be firm, because some of the people were not content with just a shirt. They kept asking for more. One man even reached through the window to where I was sitting in the middle with a pair of shoes on my lap trying to grab the shoes. My friend Corinne sitting next to me reached over and slapped his hand away. Still, we could not necessarily blame them. Many of the people were clearly wearing shirts they wore every day with all manner of holes in them. Most did not wear shoes at all. As we drove by later, we got to see some of the people we had helped walking around wearing their new shirts and shoes. They waved when they saw us.

One of the saddest observations we made came about through the other vehicles that drove past us as we handed out clothing and food. Other white people would drive by and glare at us for no other reasons than that we were helping the poorer Black population. Sadly, racism is still a major problem in some of those areas.

We ended up befriending the pastor of a church we visited, and he took us around to the different schools he helped set up. We sang songs with the kids and handed out shirts, colouring pages, and sweets to the students at the end. The three Global Year girls did most of it while the rest of us jumped in to help when needed. Many of those kids had never been given anything before, and they stared at us in awe. So many of the students were clearly poor. Corinne and I could not help but notice that many of them brought their school supplies in binders made of duct tape or old rice sacks. Some did not have shoes, and others looked as if they had not bathed in days. The teachers in those schools do what they can, but they clearly have so few resources.

I compare those schools we visited to the ones in the States, and I am amazed at how blessed Americans are. School supplies are so easy to come by, and we waste so much of those supplies simply because we know it is easy to get more. Those schools in Mozambique do not have that luxury. Every item is treasured and re-used repeatedly. Every item is of value.

My previous trips to Botswana and Zimbabwe were great, but Mozambique truly opened my eyes to how blessed I am in comparison to the rest of the world. Not to say every other country is like Mozambique. Mozambique is one of the poorest African countries. It simply served as the eye-opener I needed to see just how much needs to be done in this world.

God has called us to serve the people around us, locally and globally. I am one of those lucky few God sent into the world. Not everyone is sent on a similar mission, but you can still be a major part of it. Any time one of you prays for me or aids me financially, you are helping God’s people here in Africa. Every life I touch, you have touched because of your prayers and support.

As I continue to serve God here in Africa and other places in this world in the years to come, I hope you will continue to pray for me. I still need prayers regarding financial support, along with prayers for Mr. Palmer’s book. All of these needs are still there, and God continues to provide for those with each passing month. Thank you to those of you who are praying and supporting me. All of you contribute to keeping God’s love alive here in Africa.

Disclaimer: I apologize that this post is not up to my usual standards. I am still recovering from my illness and my mind is still a bit fuzzy. As such, the flow in paragraphs may be off or some of my sentences may sound odd. My next post should be back to usual. 

June 8.  South Africa has turned into Oklahoma. Winds whip us about like leaves in fall while the dust kicks up a storm, blowing into our faces and learning centers with no concern for our comfort. My hands feel gritty, and my eyes have mummified in their sockets. The students and staff have been walking around squinting and hiding beneath jacket collars all day.

Fortunately, the school day has now ended.  I am sitting at my desk in the LC waiting for Cecilia, my monitor, to return from her after-school gate duty so I can lock up. Brendon and Nicole are sitting across the room finishing up with scoring tests and recording results. The fans are blowing overhead in a desperate attempt to dissipate the dust from the air, but judging by the continuing state of my sore eyes, I don’t know how much the fans are helping.

Following the conclusion of today, we now have a mere two weeks of school left in Term 2. Conversational English will hold its final class of the term next week, and one lucky class will have a party. (Each class earns stickers for good behaviour throughout the term. The class with the most wins a party on the last day.)  The party makes for an easy day, but it does require that I bake two-dozen chocolate muffins prior to Tuesday. (Yes, I cook and bake now!)

–

June 25. I blame Nicole for the lapse in time between the written portion above and what is about to be recorded. I intended to finish the post and post it that evening, but Nicole came over and we started chatting. Our chat turned into a full evening of discussion and movie viewing, resulting in the long wait between it and today’s post. Sometimes, our best intentions become lost in daily activities.

As such, I have much to catch everyone up on. Where do I even begin? Feels as if a lifetime has passed since I last wrote here. Well, Term 2 has now ended and the three-week holiday officially begun. As most terms do, we concluded with two major events: Inter-house Athletics Day and Read-a-thon.

Athletics Day sped by like a racehorse. The entire school gathered on the field and lapa, which is like an outdoor pavilion, and watched as students competed in various events from long jump to 800m races. The sun hid from us all day, but the clouds gifted us with rain in both light showers and downpours. Most of us were situated beneath canopies or umbrellas, so the rain wasn’t much of a deterrent.

I felt like the proudest mother that day. Every time one of my students won a race, I beamed with pride and cheered louder than anyone. Being the sort who has said I don’t necessarily want children of my own, I was quite surprised at my reaction. Funny how God changes people. I’ve really grown to love these kids like they are my own. I’m protective of them like a mother hen with her chicks. I’m sure most people back home would find the sight incredibly hilarious.

Unlike Athletics Day, Read-a-thon passes at a steady gait. For the entire morning, the students break into groups of two or three and read through specific portions of the Bible. Pre-School through Grade 1 watched videos for the book of Matthew, but the remainder of the school read straight from the Bible. By the end of the morning, Shayandima School of Tomorrow had read the entire Bible all the way through. I enjoyed watching my students reading together. Knowing that in that very moment the whole school was lost in Scripture was quite a unique experience.

On a sad note, two of my students have left the school. Both have been with me since last year, so I hated to see them go. Seems like I’m always having to say good-bye to students around here. I just hope I left some sort of impact on their lives. They have promised to come back and visit, but I cannot count on it. Still, I have photographs and memories to keep with me.

Both students were on my newspaper team, which just released its first printing for 2012. We put a lot of effort into that newspaper over the last two terms. I loved seeing their expressions as all nine of the students pored over it, pointing out the pages they had done to friends with a proud smile and gleam in their eyes. No matter the stress in trying to get the newspaper published, it is all worth it to see the end result. I love those nine students dearly. All were in my learning center last year, so I know them better than any of the other students in the school. I have them twice a week for newspaper and Conversation English, and I always look forward to those classes. With such a small group, we manage to have quite a bit of fun in class.

In other news, Mr. Palmer’s book has made progress over the last month. I’m nearing the final quarter of the book, so I’ll be throwing myself into it in the upcoming weeks trying to get it finished. Once it’s written, I have to edit it, pass it on to the Palmers for their input, edit it again, send it off to some friends to read and edit (just to get an outsider’s opinion), edit it for a third time, and then focus on finding a publisher. Whew! Looking at it listed like that makes it all appear daunting, but I know this book is for God’s glory, so it will be done. As always, lots of prayer is needed.

As you pray for the book, I also ask if you would pray for me personally over the next two weeks as I head into Mozambique. A group of us from the base are heading up there tomorrow for a 12 day mission trip. To reach our final destination in Mozambique we must travel three whole days by vehicle, and we will be driving on dirt, gravel, and sandy roads the whole way. We will spend most evenings in the wild bush with only a tent between the nearest animal and us, so we definitely need Godly protection. The area is also known for malaria, so protection over our health is also needed.

Showers will be hit or miss the entire time since running water is a luxury most of the rural population does not have. We’ve been told to pack plenty of wet wipes because of this. Bushes will serve as our bathrooms as well. Electricity will be mostly nonexistent too. Clearly, this trip is going to be an eye-opening experience for me. Watch out, Mozambique! American city-girl coming through!

Still, I am excited for this trip. I’ve never been on a trip like this where God will be testing my stamina and ability to adapt in such a big way. Two years ago, I would have laughed if someone had told me I would willingly choose to put myself in this situation, yet here I am telling you that very thing. My belongings are packed into a small suitcase with my books and snacks in a backpack for inside the car, and good friends are traveling with me too.

Above all, I know God wants me there. I may think He’s crazy for sending me into the middle of nowhere, but clearly, He knows something I don’t. The Bible tells us that God will never give us more than we can handle. Knowing this, I can walk into this trip ready to face any challenges. I may struggle, get frustrated or irritated with the world, but I know what I have been called to do. Worldly concerns are not to be bothered with on this trip. I have to put those aside and focus on God’s plan. I pray I’m ready for the challenge.