When Life Gives You Lemons - This Ain't No Vacation
It's month ten and we are in Guatemala in fabulous living conditions...seriously. I remember a day during month one in the Philippines when the water went out in Manila. I sent panicked emails to family and friends asking them to pray. If only I had known how often that would happen throughout the year, or what it would be like to haul water from a well to bathe in. I would have relaxed a bit. So now we're in month ten and the electricity/water goes off often. The other night we were sitting in the house feeling like it was completely ironic that there was a deluge going on outside when we couldn't get water to come out of the faucet. And then something clicked and we grabbed our towels and shampoo and went out to suds up in the rain, much to our neighbors shock. What a moment, 13 world racers laughing like little kids all drenched and soapy in the Guatemalan rain. Did it make not having water worth it? Absolutely not...but it was a great way to make lemonade.
Sprinkling v.s Dunking
There have been many embarrassing moments over the year, most notably sliding through sewage in the Philippines and flipping over my bike in the middle of the busy market in Uganda. Today we prayer walked through an interesting part of Puerto Barrios. After awhile in the hot sun a few of us sat down to rest on some rocks. When a dog came towards us that looked like it's name should be killer I decided to remain calm, because it could obviously smell fear. I took the freeze approach hoping it wouldn't even see me (that may have been a wrong method for this particular kind of animal but I'll look into that later). Anyways, when Killer walked right up to me I did not move a muscle and the next thing I knew the girls were screaming because he was marking me as his territory. Now I have to say that I did have mixed emotions. First, it was a compliment to know that he picked me out of the whole group of girls to urinate on. He was marking me as his, and I choose to take that as a good thing. And then ofcourse there is the outrage. I didn't even know his real name.
High as a kite
The other night I decided to ramp up my nightly Benadryl dosage to three pills. These days I prefer to be knocked out so I don't notice that I'm sleeping on wooden slabs with a banana like curvature, and so I don't wake up to whatever is crawling on me. I was out as soon as my head hit the wood and the next thing I new I was sitting straight up in bed obviously experiencing some kind of bodily revolt to the medicine. I was somewhere between absolute exhaustion and hallucination, which included not being able to open my eyes, profuse swetting, and the very good decision to take a few laps around the 10 by 6 foot room. If there had been any observers it probably would have looked like me turning in slow circles stumbling over clothes and packs...very odd. Possibly because of the spinning, the contents of my stomach, including the three pills, started to make their way back up. I stumbled to the bathroom and proceeded with the bend and gag routine. All the while, my eyes were closed. When I did decide to pry them open with my fingers, I noticed a "scorpion" crawling along the wall. Aghast, I got real close to make sure of what I was seeing. For some reason, the closer I got the less I could tell what I was actually looking at. If there was some kind of creature on the wall it probably thought I had lost my mind...which would have been close to the truth. After awhile I lost interest and headed back to the room to continue thrashing around in my wooden bed. From now on I'm keeping the dosage to two.
Time to go home
I love to wake up a few minutes before most of my teammates, so I can enjoy breakfast and Nescafe in silence and solitude. This morning I poured myself some cereal and sat down for a wonderfully peaceful breakfast. As I was bringing the spoon to my mouth I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and realized that my cereal was crawling. Now I feel as though I've made some good changes over the year, but what I did next is not included in that category. I tried my best to pick out as many little ant trespassers as possible and continued with my meal. I then poured a bit more from the same batch and again devoured an unknown number of ants. I didn't even have to go through the hassel of scrambling up an egg. I figured I'd gotten enough protein already.
I did not think being back in the States would be a huge shock. I was not worried about having any sort of breakdown, and it turned out that for the most part things went fine. Target was the same it was when I left nine months ago, and the rich food caused a lot of excitement as well as a lot of pain afterwards...ahhh Mexican.
What I did not expect was to be shocked by how weird I've become. I see people very differently - I see the world very differently from how I used to. For goodness sake, it seems like every time I get on a bus I see someone manifesting a demon.. it's crazy!
My squadmate Lindsey had one of her college friends in Boston pick us up from the airport and take us around. I did not think this would be a big deal either, but it turns out that her friend is seeing the Lord work in her life in huge ways. I just wanted to sit and listen to how the Lord is speaking to her through numbers, nature, and dreams. I felt like I could care less about going to Target when I could have the opportunity to hear about the Lord's faithfulness through another person's story.
It has all been coming together recently. I've always wanted to believe that there was more to this life that what I could see. I was always such a dreamer, fascinated by adventure stories, with a wild imagination. So I wanted to believe all of life was not going to be one long disappointment.
And so now I find myself walking with eyes open to the Kingdom coming to Earth, and it is exciting! During this debrief, we had a chance to pray over some racers going into their second month. I remember being in their shoes, and the thought of what has happened this year and what is yet to come made me repeat to the Lord something I find myself saying quite often now with reverence and awe - Look at what you have done!
This is my teammate's passion, so it's my passion too! Here is Marisa's latest blog about Allan.
The Story of Allan Wekesa
Street Child to Son
Sevenmonths
ago my life was changed by a little boy named Allan. When I found him
he couldn't hold his head up due to the intoxicating gluethat
he had just sniffed. He was a small underweight child who wore worn
out, adult-sized clothes and an expression that pleaded for help. I
took him off the streets, loved him the best way I knew how, and waited
for God to open up a home for him. Every door slammed shut in our face
until the last day when a miracle happened. I was given the name of a
home that was only a couple hours away called The Challenge Farm. I
was told that this home dramatically changed street kids lives.
We packed up the car, put all of Allan's six belongings inside and
drove there in faith that they would take him in. When we arrived he
was welcomed as if they had been waiting for him to come home. I have
visited a lot of orphanages in the past year, but have never seen one
as healthy and spiritually mature as this home.
My experience of taking
Allan off the streets and then hearing about his progress on the Farm
makes me feel like I did something right. Religion is a touchy subject
for most. We can argue theology and challenge each other's lifestyles,
but I have learned that if we do not have applicable love all
of our religion and theology means absolutely nothing. I finally
understand why God says that a pure and faultless religion is to take
care of orphans and widows.
Cheri, the founder of Challenge Farm, has 103 children. All of them are now sponsored except for 17 boys. She needs us to respond. The
sponsorship is $35 mo/$420 a year. I want to encourage you to have a
garage sale or eat out one less time a month. I want to give you the
opportunity to applicably love and change a boys life. You can do so by going to http://www.challenge-kenya.org/page11.aspx
to pick out your child --the boy that you will feed, clothe and provide
education for. Thank you so much for stepping up! You can also
support by giving one-time donations. Her support dropped
significantly in the fall due to the chaos that everyone experienced
financially. Consequently she has had to make these dramatic changes
to cope:
(an email from Cheri)
Children at Challenge Farm:
Used to get beef stew and fruit once a week- now it is once a month. They eat vegetables, corn and beans.
Rice which was served once a week has been eliminated.
Would
get chai (milk, tea, and sugar) during morning school break. We have
eliminated that except on weekends where they get chai and bread (which
is donated) instead of porridge for breakfast.
All school activities not directly related to the classroom have been severely limited.
Salaries have been cut and positions eliminated.
Building of four classrooms has been stopped.
We need an additional $3000 dollars a month to operate at the previous level. We have 17 boys that still need to be sponsored which will bring in an additional $595 monthly.
Remember
our kids don't get soda, candy, fast food, trips to the mall or
movies. We just need the basics. Through Challenge Farm we are helping
directly or indirectly 500 people to have a better life.
And Now...Allan's Story in His Own Words:
I was born 12 years ago in
Nairobi. I have two younger sisters who
I believe still live with my mother in Nairobi. We had a decent life. Dad was a
police officer and mom was a housewife.
One day father left for work as
usual but never came back. We waited for
him but in vain. Life took a downward
spiral. We couldn't afford a decent
meal, or the rent.
My mother then took me to her
brother's home in Kamusinde (In Bungoma District) and she went back to
Nairobi. I was about 9 or 10 years old
then. My uncle's wife made no pretense
of taking care of me. She physically
abused me so much that I frequently missed school because of the
injuries. She denied me food and at one point as she
herself put it- "got fed up" with me. She called my mother to come take
me out of her house. I was glad because at her house I often slept
outside and was getting sickly from the cold.
Mom came –but life had taken its
toll on her and she was now very harsh and fretful. She was selling vegetables at the market and
would be gone before I was up and came back very late at night , so I
never had lunch. She was now very
physically abusive and when I could not take it any longer, I ran away.
I went to Nairobi town and met
Caleb (who now is my best friend) and after a couple of weeks we came to
Kitale. We were both rescued some time
later and taken to a center but we both didn't like it and ran away.
Caleb remained in Kitale but I
went to Eldoret. That's where I learned
about glue. I made friends and on
Saturdays and Sundays we went to church. I've since forgotten which church it was, but we were always given tea
and bread.
On one such Sunday, I met Marisa
and her team. Marisa looked at my palm
which had been hurt playing soccer. She
took me to her home. She took care of
me
then when she left, she left me at the care of my pastor's mother.
Marisa later came back and
brought me to the Farm in 2008. At the
Farm I was pleasantly surprised to find Caleb. I've made two more friends, Dan, who's in my class and Joseph Ejore,
who's in Form One (freshman in High School). We talk about our former lives, the Farm, our future and we play
together. In the dorm I share the same
cubicle with Ejore.
(Allan's two bestfriends who still need sponsorship)
I'm learning to read and write and I can
now write my name! I love the food (but Ejore tells me it was once
better. I hope it gets better again) the clothes and the company. The
farm has helped me get over
the issue of glue. I have also forgiven
my mother for mistreating me and I hope I can see her soon.
I thank Marisa for rescuing me
and the Farm, too. When I'm grown up and
I'm a pilot, I'll thank them my own way.
The first night I had Allan we had him draw so that he could communicate to us what he was thinking about.
He drew a helicopter. When we dropped him off at the farm we
were floored to learn that Cheri's late husband flew a helicopter for
missions purposes.
Allan and I dancing.
Allan's cubicle (room)
Dining Room
Allan's School (on the farm)
The farm
Grace (the director) taking us on the tour.
The girl's toilet. They are still raising money to finish the boys bathroom area.
Onesimus (who helped us find the farm) Grace (the director) Allan,
and me with some really pretty hair. It's a hard knocks life being a
"mom"--no time to do your hair.
We went to the marilyn manson concert and stood outside the entrance in order to talk to people. My teammate Marisa put our experience into words much better than I ever could have. This is her account of the night.
All seven of us were waiting for our bus to come. Unfortunately we had just missed it so I decided to rest my back on a nearby post. Others followed me and as we chatted Elizabeth noticed that I was leaning against a very scary looking man with one weird eye ball. The man was Marilyn Manson and I was leaning on his concert poster. He became the topic of our conversation and when we realized that the concert was the next day I exclaimed, "Hey, lets go there!"
We pondered in prayer for a good while before we came to a unanimous decision. It was a go. As we each shared our hearts about what we felt God prompting us to do it was clear that we were to plant seeds of reconciliation. When Manson was young he was shunned by the church due to his awkwardness, likewise his followers often have fallen victim to the same treatment. His platform is publicly founded on satanism and easily draws outcasts. In one of his latest interviews he told his fans that if they feel like committing suicide, to just do it.
We prepared ourselves spiritually the best way we knew how. I decided to dress myself in black leggings with a black skirt and shirt to match; then I covered my eyes in the color of death. My goal was not to mock, but to accept.
On the bus on the way there Emily, Elizabeth, Ian and I were looked up and down. These "children of the light" had a taste of the judgment that some of these people get every time they go out in public. It didn't feel good. We got to the concert, decided to split two by two and dive right in. Liz and Em made there way to a girl standing by herself and Ian and I went for a walk to build up more courage and try to find the person we were supposed to talk to. We finally found a crowded area where we sat and people watched as we prayed about who to approach. We had a tough time because every time we picked somebody out and made the approach they would slowly turn on their heels and start walking away. The freaky thing about this is that it happened SEVERAL times and they all turned in a very distinct way. We didn't really know what to do so we decided to go for another walk. As we did we passed the girls ministering to a girl with big sunglasses on. Her name was Lucy, a beautiful girl with painted pink stripes in her hair and a large gap between her teeth. Our team concurs that she is the reason why God sent us there.
Em and Liz were upfront when Lucy asked why they were at the concert. Liz confidently said, "Well, we feel like God told us to come, and then He told us to come over here and tell you that He loves you." Lucy giggled in surprise. Had anyone every told her this before, it seemed not. Interested in what they were saying, their conversation continued. Once finding out that they were Christian missionaries she apologetically informed them that they were at the wrong concert. "Marilyn Manson is against everything that you believe." The girls told her that it was okay and that it didn't matter. Lucy upside down cross that she wore on her neck sparked a conversation about her beliefs and she told them that she was an Athiest. The girls asked her about her church experience and she told them that she had only gone to a church a few times when she was younger, but it was too rigid and there were too many rules.
As they talked Liz felt prompted to tell Lucy that God thought she was beautiful, and when she did Lucy burst out into more childlike giggles. It was as if the word beautiful was foreign to her. She boldly asked why they thought this and Liz sincerely gave her the truth. She spoke of natural things and shared Psalm 139 with her. And for the first time in Lucy's life, someone bothered to paint a whole new picture of God for her. She was introduced to a God who accepts, befriends, delights in, who is in the habit of giving too much mercy, and too much grace. A God who can look at a girl who has rejected him because she was rejected and send four Americans across the world to go find her.
Liz asked Lucy to take her sunglasses off of her face. As she did so her amber-colored eyes radiated through the black painted circles surrounding them. The girl's reaction was only priceless because it was real. They flamboyantly doted over how stunningly gorgeous they were. In fact, days later when the girls talked about her unveiling her eyes their sincere reaction still gave me goosebumps. I don't think that Lucy was ever given such a response in her life. Shortly after this the girls said their goodbyes and Lucy went into the concert hall.
When we all gathered back together I felt God's delight resting on me like two love birds on their 50th wedding anniversary. As the girls shared their story I remembered the first time that I was told that God loved me, and the several years after when that precious seed took root and I finally understood how magnificent that statement was.
Before going to the concert I sent out a prayer request to over 100 people. I had no idea what was going to happen, but I knew we needed support. As I look at the whole picture of what happened I am in awe of the height and depth of His love. Do me a favor and try to wrap your mind around this:
For one girl, who had blatantly denied him, blasphemed him, and worshiped his enemy...
He made us late for our bus.
He made me lean against a scary poster.
He gave us the courage to go.
He enlisted over 100 people all around the world to pray to him.
He called many to fast from eating food for an entire day
Then he took his fingers and smushed us together--all so that she could hear these words, "I love you." And because he is patient, because his love endures, he will watch over the seed that he planted and will see to it that it comes into fruition. All this trouble for one girl who hates him.
First of all, I apologize for my lack of posts. Every time I have tried to sit down to right, I have been struck by the weightiness of trying to put everything into words. Last month we lived with gypsies in a little village nestled in the mountains of Romania. Now I find myself sitting in an apartment in Slovakia that is strikingly similar to accommodations we are used to in the States. We had a shopping trip at the mega grocery store the other night, and I found my teammate frozen in the cereal isle clutching bags of Cinnamon Toast Crunch to her bosom and staring around in teary amazement. So things are nice here:)
On a personal level, last month was all about coming to an actual felt understanding of GRACE, and this month I find that truths are sinking in. I woke up this morning with an overwhelming desire to have extreme FAITH and believe the Lord for big things.
"So I saw in my dream that the man began to run. He had not run far from his own door" before the characters in his small story ran to fetch him back, crying out all the threats and excuses they could think of. "But the man put his fingers in his ears, and ran on, crying, 'Life! Life! eternal life!' "
(Original text from Pilgrim's Progress - emphasis added in The Sacred Romance by John Eldredge)
Babushka is one of my favorite words. My mom used to affectionately call my sister and me her little babushkas. The word itself sounds precious and loving, and it turns out the true meaning is well defined.
In this my seventh month, I am in the land of babushkas. Every where you look there are old women hunched over underneath warm woolen sweaters, with calf length skirts and opaque stockings that fold at their ankles. Their trademark is a patterned scarf in any variation of colors that covers the head and ties tightly under the chin.
We got off the plane in Kiev all cheery and wearing our colorful Indian garbs. We are loud and colorful and joyful and pretty much the opposite of this place. People here have a strong appreciation for all variations of black and gray, and they are not the friendliest bunch.
So today we were walking through town and I spotted a welcoming sign, some fresh bright flowers for sale on the sidewalk. They stood out like shiny coins resting on the bottom of a brown murky fountain floor, and I was drawn to them. After all, it is Easter and we have the greatest reason to hope. I felt some fresh flowers would make a great addition to our apartment. As I approached the flowers I saw that a sweet hearted old babushka sat behind them. How is it I could tell that she is sweet hearted you ask? For one, when I smiled at her she gave me a big toothless grin instead of a scowl. Some babushkas have not been so friendly and have actually appeared rather grumpy - not that they don't have anything to be grumpy about. Their caloused hands have deep cracks and grooves in them and look not at all like ladies' hands. I imagine that each groove has felt the weight of years of toil, all the while longing for just a moment of rest.
So I walked up to this babushka and held out 20 grievnas to her which is about 2 USD. She paused and seemed a bit confused at first, so in a humorous display of hand motions I explained I wanted whatever 20 grv. would buy. As this dawned on her, the edges of her mouth gradually began to turn up and she threw her head back to give a soft chuckle. As I took her hand, she looked into my face and her eyes sparkled at me. I wanted to say, "I know life has been hard, but I want you to know I can see the inside of you and you shine more than any of these beautiful flowers." I wanted to say, "The Lord sees you and He knows every crack in your hands, he knows every sore in your body and every wound in your heart. You cannot even imagine how greatly you are loved."
Sometime this week I'll probably go back to my babushka and try to buy all her flowers just to make her smile, so I can say as much as I can in the absence of language....babushka is my favorite word.
We are in Ukraine praying for the Lord's leading ~ trying to love and touch everyone we meet ~ trying to plant seeds and bring some light to this place. HE is doing marvelous things...wonderful marvelous things.
- I succumbed to peer pressure and got my nose pierced...sorry mom.
- I feel much better after taking my first deworming pill (Hopefully the spicy curry will scorch any remaining parasites).
- So far I've been able to evade the rats living in the home. Cows aren't the only animals they let roam free here.
In many ways I feel like I'm back in China. In China I would wake up in the night absolutely petrified. I started leaving the bathroom light on so I wouldn't be so afraid if I woke up. On one occassion I awoke to black cloudy shapes hovering over me. The town we lived in was gloomy and sad and we were always cold. By the end of China it felt like the Lord was long gone, and I couldn't feel His presence at all. It was a hard month! Then we got to Africa and warmth filled my body and soul, and joy filtered back in. And the Lord did amazing things. There were hardships there as well but not like China...not like here.
There are idols everywhere. The air is thick with pollution and incense. There are shapes and symbols and beliefs, and what we're supposed to do and what we're not supposed to do - we're living in a home for prostitutes that have come off the streets.
The youngest girl in the home is only twelve years old, and she has burns on her face and hands. Her mother began selling her out as a prostitute at who knows what age. Her grandmother brought her to the home because she was being raped too often. She is just a little girl.
Our team experienced unity and growth in Tanzania, but as soon as we got into India we started to struggle.
Even still there is such beauty here, hovering under the heaviness. I am coming to deeply care for the girls, and trying to take one day at a time.
So I talk to the Lord and worship even when I don't feel Him near, and thank Him that I get to live this life.
