just sitting there in the gutter

I took this picture today because of all it represents.

It may not say much to you but let me try to help you tell its story.

Nede’s been home, sick with malaria for 2 days now—no school for her.

Today we got up, I asked her to get dressed. She chose her pink, frilly princess dress. I made her put on a sweatshirt. She chose a pink one, with hearts on it. She asked to go outside and play. I said, “For a little while. Put your shoes on.” She chose her pink rain boots.

Pretty soon, I looked out the bedroom window to see Nede and my guard, Jose, washing their bicycles together.

This man loves my child. This is not the Mozambican norm.

I don’t know what happened next but soon I noticed that Nede’s bike was parked in the gutter with Mono Jose’s, in his usually parking space.

The bikes sat like this together, all day.

These bikes tell two drastically different stories.

One represents a multipurpose vehicle, necessary for livelihood.

One represents laughter and an imaginary land of dreams and hopes.

One represents struggle.

One represents carefree days.

One was an investment.

One was a gift under a Christmas tree.

One will break one day and be grieved over with no means of repair.

One will break and be disposed of, likely to be replaced in no time.

Not only do these bikes represent young and old, new and worn but they seem to be symbolic of too much of life here.

Few are given such hopes and dreams; many are plagued with struggle and challenges.

I know they’re just pink and a black metal (plastic) objects but as I look at them, they tell such a story. A story in which the owners are both intertwined into my heart.

Both with their different lives, their different stories, their different futures.

A hardworking Mozambican man.

A joyful Mozambican child.

Their bicycles say a lot sitting there in the gutter.

kumbaya

I've been thinking about different seasons in my life. Reminiscing about times when I've prayed and sang different songs. Songs I used to sing when I went to the little church situated among the pines. Songs I sang in the church connected to the mall. Songs I sang at the million dollar church in the desert. Songs I sang more recently as a stranger to a new church in St Paul. There are also countless memories and songs I sang while driving in the car. Driving across the desert belting out, " If You ask me to run,  And carry Your light into foreign land, If You ask me to fight, Deliver Your people from Satan's hand" I'll go...

I remember laying on my Arizona living room floor crying to the words of the song "God of Justice."

I all to well remember aching where I was and aching for where I wanted to be. It seems I'm doing the same now. Aching where I am, aching for where I would like to be. 

If I can be blatantly honest, and why not because God already knows, I question myself if right now I would honestly be able to sing out, "I surrender all" with a pure heart, before the Lord. Over the last months I have said to the Lord, "If I knew it was going to be this hard I won't have come back God." Sitting in a church pew singing sacrificial songs was a lot easier. Learning to give up my life for another-- Nede yes, but ultimately Jesus-- is a lot harder than I wish it were. 

I miss a comfortable couch. I miss multitudes of family and friends available on the other end of my cell phone or waiting at the nearest Starbucks. I miss hugs from those who love me most. I miss comfort and I miss a language I understand. I'm terribly homesick (and I plead for prayers to find a way for Nede and I to be able to go home sometime). 

All of this said, in vulnerable honesty, I have to keep convincing myself that it's worth it, and I know that it is. As I held Nede tonight, contemplating the origin of her fever-- malaria or another bug? I thought about where she would be if I weren't here. Then  I thought about all the other kids out there that don't get held when their temperature is elevated. I thought about how I still want my mom to hold me when I have a fever. 

And then, I sent Nede to brush her teeth to soon find this...

I was then reminded that I WANT to want to "surrender all." I WANT to want to "go where He asks me to go." I WANT to give up my life more willingly. I WANT to praise Him in every difficult, perfect situation He puts me in.
My soul resonates with my five year olds Kumbaya. Lord, we're calling. Lord, we're praying. Lord, we're singing. Lord, we're dancing. COME BY HERE!

(All of this said, do not worry. It's a glimpse of where I am, what I've gone through and am working through in my own heart. This is what God is doing in me, writing my story...)

hey diddle diddle

I hear it every day but Nede's voice still makes my heart happier than almost anything. She awes me as she continues to grasp 3 languages. As she learns English from me, her Zimbabwean teachers, Nigerian and Burundian school friends, and our South African, Swedish, British, and Irish friends, some things, to many, are unintelligible. Sometimes she even sounds Italian! Nevertheless, it's good for lots of smiles!

Story 2: it was the size of my head, red eyes, fangs…

Saturday night Sarah and I got chased away from our cribbage game early to escape the hungry mosquitoes, who, we were assured, are NOT malaria carrying! (We’ll see about that in the next 7-10 days!) After 3 days of playing in the sand and sun I thought I was just going to crawl into the sanctuary of my mosquito net and fall fast asleep. For some reason, once I got into my net, which I was sharing with Nede with our 2 single mattresses secured beneath, I got a bit ambitious and thought I would read for a bit. I started on my back but then my arms got tired from hold my book above my head. I wanted to lay on my left side but then I knew the light from my head lamp would shine in Nede’s face so I turned on my right side. Positioning myself this way left only a few inches between me, my net and the wall. Not the most comfortable but that’s how it is. Shortly after, Sarah came in and was settling herself in her bed on the other side of Nede’s. All was still, tranquil, relaxed when I let out a HUGE scream as a RAT raced next to my head about 6 inches from my face!!!! I FLEW away from the wall, landing on Nede’s leg. Sarah startled, obviously, and said “What’s wrong???” To which I screamed, “There’s a RAT INSIDE MY MOSQUITO NET!”

Sarah then said a few choice words on my behalf as I reached over Nede trying to untuck the mosquito net from the far corner of the foot of Nede’s bed. As I tugged unsuccessfully the rat jumped up against the net in it’s own attempt to get out of the prison he put himself in. I continued to be unsuccessful in trying to get this critter out of MY personal space. It then ran up the length of Nede’s bed RIGHT next to her head! I repositioned myself to make the reach across Nede to free the intruder from the far corner of the head of Nede’s bed. I was finally successful and in a split second he was gone. Where to, we never found. We were pretty sure he had gone out from our net but we never saw where he went.

Sarah and I then, after some time, got out from under our nets (I felt safe NO WHERE now) to move EVERY item in the baraka to make sure he wasn’t still hiding somewhere. We lifted every sheet, every mattress put ALL our bags outside and over an hour later felt somewhat confident to retuck our nets back under our mattresses and climb back into bed.

Nede slept through it all.

And me? I have been traumatized. The security of the mosquito net that I have put my confidence in for greater than 2 years is now gone. And now I have been having visions in my head of a rat the size of my head, fangs and red eyes that looked into my soul…

I didn’t sleep well that night.

Story 1: his name is much?

One day while at the beach Nede and I walked together to ask the staff to turn on the hot water so we could take hot showers. As we walked away Nede said, “That man is coming? His name is Much?”

I responded, “What Nede?”

“That man? His name is Much?”

“I don’t know the man’s name who is going to come turn on the water.”

“But his name is Much?”

“Nede! I don’t know his name? Why are you asking?”

To this she frankly answered, “Well, why did you say ‘thank you Much’ then?”

the beach

Nede, Sarah and I just spent the last 4 days at the beach! It was fantastic!!!

This is where we slept…

This is where we played… 

This is what we ate… 

(Yes, those are ants. I opened a BRAND NEW sealed package of cheese and these busy friends were securely added under the plastic label. Unbelievable!)

And this is how we celebrated our first outing together!

REJOICING!

(to be continued…2 stories not to miss to follow;)