my altogether different africa
The Gypsy Mama and I have been living each other’s lives. Well, kinda.
I’ve lived in South Africa for 12 years. Just about as long as she’s lived in America.
She’s a South African married to an American. I’m an American married to a South African. Or at least I was. But that’s a whole other story for a whole other day.
South Africa has become home for me, although it was certainly an adjustment. Things are just different. Like the common practice of not refrigerating condiments. And grown men grocery shopping in their bare feet. And the fact that jam means jelly and jelly means jell-o.
We drive on the wrong left side of the road in cars that are more ladylike than they are in the States. They have bonnets and boots instead of hoods and trunks.
There’s no central heating (even though we get snow where I live!) but I’ve learned to build fires in my fireplace the old fashioned way. I’d make Bear Grylls proud. The windows, which are permanently open in summer, have no screens. And I hate bugs. ::shudder::
I’m still trying to understand the difference between the South African phrases now, just now, and now now. Because they basically all mean I’ll get to it when I get to it.
Speaking of… Things happen slower in Africa. Which often causes a flare-up of my Kinko’s-quick American impatience, but has taught me some valuable lessons: Faster isn’t always better. God cares more about the missionary than the mission. Relationships matter.
Nuggets of wisdom lace every contrast between my here-home and there-home. And I love that. There is a unique joy in discovering more about God and myself in the tapestry of cultural diversity.
I love my altogether different and altogether beautiful Africa.
In all her grit and glory.
[originally a guest post on The Gypsy Mama's site...]
even greater things
I’ve seen God do some incredible things through me in my lifetime.
He used a poem I wrote as a nine-year-old girl to bring my separated parents back together.
On my mission trips as a teenager, He spoke through my faltering words to lead people to salvation.
I’ve stepped out in faith for eleventh-hour financial provision, and had money miraculously show up at the last minute.
In my early years of living in Africa, I rubbed cataracts out of a woman’s eyes.
I saw a man’s leg grow out six inches as I prayed over him.
I pulled a lame man to his feet and watched him take his first steps.
I get goosebumps just thinking about the amazing things God has done. And I feel humbled that He’s chosen to use me.
But it all feels like ancient history.
It’s been a very long time since God’s done something supernatural through me.
But I know it’s not because He’s changed.
I think somewhere along the line, I stopped believing Him for the miraculous.
My faith grew dim.
I got “busy”.
And I stopped actively trusting.
But I want my faith back. I want to trust Him for the miraculous again.
I want to trust Him for even greater things.
That feels like a huge risk right now. My battle-weary heart is scared to hope, to believe.
But every mighty move of God in my life has required an act of faith.
And, Lord knows, I need Him to move mightily.
Not just through me, but in me.
So I’m asking Him to strengthen my faith and fill me with the assurance that He is trustworthy.
Whether He ever does another miracle through my hands or not, I want to live with heart-risking trust that He can.
i am only one, but i am one
“I am only one, but I am one.
I cannot do everything,
but I can do something.
And I will not let what I cannot do
interfere with what I can do.”
-Edward Everett Hale
Everyone can do something in the fight against AIDS. Don’t let the enormity of the task keep you from doing the something you can do.
Learn as much as you can, discover what you’re passionate about, and throw your full weight into that passion.
- Discover which aspect of the AIDS crisis resonates with your heart. It will be different for different people, and that’s okay! You may not know yet what you’re passionate about in regards to fighting the AIDS pandemic. So begin by reading about the multi-faceted issues involved. Your heart will be gripped by something as you research. It might be orphan care, or medical intervention, or prevention/abstinence programs. Whatever it is, find your passion.
- Find an organization that shares your passion. Again, this may take some digging. But there are plenty of solid ministries out there targeting the various aspects of AIDS.
- Connect as much as possible with the cause/organization you believe in. The more you know and understand about their vision and strategies, the more you can be a megaphone for them.
- Interact with the organization and its team. Visit their website, comment on their blog posts, ask for specific prayer requests. Passion grows when you truly become part of something. Family members have the same blood in their veins. Join the family. Get the vision coursing through you till you bleed it.
- Use your voice and influence to promote the cause you believe in. You can do that through blog posts, sidebar widgets, twitter updates, and personal conversations. You could commit to a monthly megaphone day on your blog where you highlight different aspects of what’s being done, what the needs are, and opportunities for others to get involved.
- Be passionate about it. Anyone can plug something, but passion is unmistakable. People will know how much you really believe in what you’re saying.
- Pray. Prayer really does change things.
- Contribute financially to support the work that’s being done.
- Get off your “but” and go. Drop the excuses and go see for yourself. Travel overseas to not only see the work in action but to participate in it. The best advocates are those who’ve been involved. And I guarantee it will change your life forever.
I’d love to hear your thoughts.
What are you currently doing to help in the fight against AIDS?
What are you going to start doing?
What other suggestions do you have for ways people can get involved?
you CAN do something
AIDS is a reality you don’t have the luxury to ignore.
Bono wrote in his book On the Move—
6,500 Africans are still dying every day of a preventable, treatable disease, for lack of drugs we can buy at any drugstore. This is not about charity; this is about justice and equality.
Because there’s no way we can look at what’s happening in Africa and, if we’re honest, conclude that deep down, we really accept that Africans are equal to us. Anywhere else in the world, we wouldn’t accept it. Look at what happened in Southeast Asia with the tsunami. 150,000 lives lost to that misnomer of all misnomers, “mother nature.” In Africa 150,000 lives are lost every month. A tsunami every month. And it’s a completely avoidable catastrophe.
There is a continent—Africa—being consumed by flames.I truly believe that when the history books are written, our age will be remembered for three things: the war on terror, the digital revolution, and what we did—or did not do—to put the fire out in Africa.
History, like God, is watching what we do.
Don’t close your eyes or turn your head away. People are dying for you to do something.
What will you do to learn more about the AIDS crisis?
What will you do with what you know?
i’m tired
I was reading along in Isaiah when I tripped over this phrase: “You have not wearied yourselves for Me, O Israel.” I brushed off my knees and copped a squat right there. I knew exactly what God was talking about. And I knew I was just as guilty as Israel was.
After over eleven years in full-time ministry, I know full-well what it’s like to weary myself. I’ve put in the ridiculously long hours. I’ve juggled an impossible schedule. I’ve reached the point of burnout and lived to tell about it.
And as I fall in bed exhausted at the end of a long day week month year decade, my heart sighs, “I’m weary…”
If I listen closely enough, I hear God’s voice, ever loving and gentle. “But you haven’t wearied yourself for Me.”
Without even realizing it, I’ve been wearing my exhaustion like a badge of honor. My demanding schedule and ever-growing to do lists became my identity. As if fatigue is the mark of an accomplished missionary.
If I’m most honest, I wearied myself because I thought my value lay in my productivity. I mistook accomplishments for significance. I bought into the lie that busyness is the telltale sign of successful leadership.
But while I was getting stuff done, and even—by God’s grace—impacting lives, I was ultimately toiling for the wrong reasons.
The work of discipling young leaders in Africa is worth every ounce of my effort and energy. I want to tire myself out doing what I love. But I need to keep the motives of my heart in check. Wearying myself for some self-serving purpose is just plain tiring.
I want to weary myself for Him.
Then and only then am I strengthened.
my beautiful africa
“Ask of Me, and I will give you the nations as your inheritance.” I’ve been asking for Africa since I was 15.
And while I hope to have left my His mark on the continent I love so much, I know for sure that she’s left a mark on me.
Africa is beautiful, rich, compelling. She won my heart with her beckoning eyes and captivating smiles. Her laughter comes from deep in her soul, her tears from a place even deeper still. And as deep calls to deep, she reaches the most sacred part of my heart.
Like any true love, when I close my eyes, she is as close as my own breath.
With eyes wide shut, I see majesty in the shape of mountains and elephants and elderly women. I hear spontaneous harmonies, heartbreaking mourning over yet another life stolen away, shouts of praise to a God they deem faithful despite their circumstances. I taste the bitterness of grief and the sweetness of community. I smell the blanketing fires of winter and the matchless fragrance of coming rain. I feel the joy of carefree children, the contentment of simple lives well-lived, and the stirring of God sweeping through narrow unnamed village streets.
And when I open my eyes again, she’s still right here—standing tall with her hard-earned pride, holding my hand with her tight ebony grip, and looking forward with an unspeakable hope.
Jesus gave His life for my magnificently alluring Africa.
She is so worth me doing the same.
fight poverty with hope
Ask any little boy in America what he wants to be when he grows up and you might hear firefighter, doctor, or astronaut. Little girls will say they want to be teachers, nurses, lawyers. Though their answers differ, these children all have something in common: They can answer the question.
Ask a child in Africa what he or she wants to be when all grown up and you may be met with a blank stare. Shrugging shoulders. “I don’t know.” They can’t comprehend the question and they don’t know how to answer. They don’t know, because they don’t know how to dream.
I’ve seen the blank stares. I’ve watched the shoulders shrug. I’ve heard the “I don’t know”s. Once when I asked a young boy what he wants to be when he grows up, he answered with a statement that has never left me: “I want to be alive.”
Poverty kills dreams. It murders hope. It squashes every last ounce of ambition. Poverty impacts the old, but targets the young. It steals more than full bellies and healthy bodies; it suffocates the future and squanders potential.
What Africa needs—what anyone affected by poverty needs—is not a hand-out. Africa needs more than charity, more than money, more than employment opportunities. All of those are vitally important, but Africa needs something even greater. Africa needs to learn to dream again.
Next time you choose to make a donation, contribute your skills, or give of your time for someone or some organization, find a way to also instill hope, offer encouragement, shine a light at the end of their tunnel. As you spark dreams in people’s hearts, you’re doing the best thing you can do to eradicate poverty.
[originally posted this day last year]
stormy thoughts
It’s been raining for days. So tonight’s storm is nothing new. But for some reason it totally made me homesick for Africa.
It started with me thinking about how extremely different this exact same storm would sound if I were in my house. My home has a tin roof and no insulation. That makes for some ridiculously loud rain. So between that and the claps of thunder and the wild lightning, this would’ve been one helluva storm in Africa. (Can I say helluva?! Hmmm… I’m leavin’ it…)
I miss the sound of rain on my roof.
I miss my kitchen with all her wonderful gadgets.
I miss my Big Easy, the most comfortable corner of my house.
I miss my African Grey parrot, Starbucks, and his comforting way of making everything right in my world with his “Hello, beautiful.”
I miss my mountains. And zebras. And star-filled skies.
I miss my staff family.
I miss my Hope House kids.
I miss watching my vision and passion become reality every single day.
I miss my Africa…
And I’m grateful for this rain.
souvenirs from cali
My time in California was bittersweet, and filled with a strange mixture of emotions. But underlying all of that, it was a wonderful gift to be with April for her wedding.
Being able to help with last-minute details—from late-night Walmart runs to putting on her veil before the ceremony—made my heart feel full. I’ve never gotten to help any of my friends with any part of their weddings before. So every moment made me feel very blessed.
Though I don’t have children of my own, I think I know what parental pride feels like. I felt it in a thousand different moments over the past few days. I am so proud of April. For her depth of character. Her resolve. Her patience and grace under pressure. Her wise choices.
And while there is a lot about April’s year in Africa that I wish I could change—for her and for me—I am unbelievably grateful I had that time to get to know her and pour into her in some small way.
I know I often begrudge the revolving door of my life. But after a week like the one I just had, I can’t help but lift my eyes and thank my Jesus for bringing so many people through that door.
My life is certainly richer for it.
my africa
I painted a portrait of my beautiful Africa.
