Travis, Bees and a Plunger

I wish someone could tell me who Travis is.

It made me laugh when one of the guys came to the office one day wearing a new navy blue fleece with the name “Travis” embroidered on the right chest. I always find it humorous when someone wears a shirt, obviously intended for someone else. What’s even funnier is that Timosse isn’t the only one with this “Travis” shirt. I have now been noticing it EVERY where! “Travis” is at the market, “Travis” is at the office, “Travis” is at Shoprite, I passed “Travis” on the road, “Travis” is in Beira. Really, “Travis” is everywhere. The same navy blue fleece with a yellow sailboat. “Travis”.

I wish someone could tell me who “Travis” is and why he ever needed so many fleeces!

*

Bees!! I returned home from Chimoio to a lovely hum of a bazillion bees entering my roof and house, again! There’s a hole between the roof and exterior of the wall and apparently this seems like a nice place to call home!!! They aren’t welcome! I tried Carlos’s smoke technique, with little success. I used almost a whole can of “Doom Super (Deadly Killing Action)”—little success. I even parked the truck as close to the house as possible and then stood on the top of the truck to try to reach as close to the hole to spray the Doom. Finally the sun went down and they settled in, TO The HOLE! EESH, we’ll see what tomorrow brings!

*

I simply wanted to by a PLUNGER in town today. Our toilet is working ok but it doesn’t seem to have the oomph that it used to have so I’ve been thinking something was clogging it a bit. So, in Chimoio today I thought I would try to buy a plunger at Shoprite. As I looked I started to think about how a plunger probably isn’t that common here. Of course some people have flushing toilets but most don’t. To my delight Shoprite did have a plunger which I bought without hesitation. Well, after I fought the bees off for awhile I thought I would give it a whirl! WELL, I had no idea that a plunger could work SO terribly. It formed NO seal around the area it was supposed to plunge. I hopefully continued to try to “plunge” thinking it could “grab” a grip somewhere in the plunging action. NOPE, it actually wrinkled and inverted almost clogged the toilet itself! I surely never knew that there could be such a terrible plunger.

There’s always something.

Travis.

Bees.

Plungers.

a couple photos

Is she not beautiful??? Sheesh…I couldn’t get the little stinker to stop praying this morning to eat her breakfast! What a great “problem.”I’m trying to learn how to manage her hair! It’ll be  a process. :)

is this it?

I wonder how many times I have sung worship songs like—Lord, I give you my all. Take my life. All to Jesus I surrender. You are all that I need. You are my all in all. Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus. Praise you in the storm. He gives and takes away…the list could go on.

I have sung, seemingly from the heart, many songs about how I would do anything for the Lord. I have said prayerfully that I would sacrifice EVERYTHING, surrendering it all to be in the midst of God’s will. It was pretty easy for me to sing those things when I was comfortable at Highlands church in Scottsdale or at Campus Crusade while in college surround by lots of fun-loving peers. The words have been pretty simple when I’m surrounded by family and friends which is often where I draw my strength. I sure feel willing when I am comfortable.

Now? Now I feel I am starring at the very words that I have sung. I’m now wondering if this is what I was agreeing to then. I thought they were from my heart all those times but now I wonder where that strength has gone. I sort of feel like I a hypocrite. Now, when my life is harder than it’s ever been, I feel alone, tired, frustrated, scared, overwhelmed, confused, burdened. Not knowing what to do with myself I now think back to all these songs I sing knowing that this is it. This is the time to do what I used to just sing about. And do I have it in me to do just that? To give it all up. To surrender to a plan that is completely out of my control. Will I really accept whatever the outcome may be? Will I really give up all “my” plans for what the Lord has for me? Surrender and sacrifice. For the first time, I am trying to understand their meanings and am wrestling with living them out in my life. I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I knew what I was saying/singing before. I don’t know. I have doubts, many of them. I guess it’s good to leave the church (the physical building) and start to BE the church where I am. It’s more than a building isn’t it? This may be what it means to be a Christian. Perhaps I am now understanding the practicalities of what it means to be called by Christ. It’s not easy but there’s a verse that says, “When I am weak then He is strong.” Lord, I am giving you lots of room to be my strength! I’m learning it’s a journey and there’s lots of grace along the way. I’ll keep staggering on drawing on with those words I’ve recited many times.

culture

The phones and internet have been quite dodgy over the last few weeks. Here’s something I wrote a few weeks back-

I’m always surprised when I find myself in a situation and I feel like I am viewing poverty for the first time. It happened again yesterday. I was visiting at a home of, as Pascua would say, real “bush people.” I sat there looking at their meager to no belongings and just couldn’t believe it. I felt like I was in a dream, or was it a nightmare? I was having flashes of my life in America- all that I’ll go back to and looking at them and thought-- NO ONE should have to live like this. No one, not even my worst enemy would I want to live like this. I sat there angry almost. Thinking about the Mozambican culture—a culture I feel I understand less and less each day I am here. I try to understand spiritually why there is such a vast contrast in quality of life in the “West” and the rest of much of the world. Then I think about the standards in my culture and I am angry too. That isn’t right either. So now I just hate culture in general because I seen that none is right. Then what am I left to do. What can I think of all this as I feel responsible for the oppression that I have/am a part of—the colonization that occurred by our ancestors, the history of America, the present state of America and the responsibility we now play in this very home I am sitting at. What is my role? What do I do with this that is tearing my heart out again for the first time?

As I returned home I needed a break. I needed time to process this day. I needed time to talk to the Lord. Gratefully I was able to find this time.

As I sat with my Bible and my journal I didn’t know where to read so I started writing about the injustice of this all. I feel confused in my own culture. I feel confused by the Mozambican culture. I feel angry still. Then, such freeing words rang in my ears. Kingdom culture. God is just.

I realized, all I can do is “seek first the Kingdom of God” and do what I know God has/is calling me to. No culture is right. No worldly culture is okay. It’s all about the culture of God. What is my role in His culture? I can go crazy trying to understand these earthly cultures or I can seek the Lord and trust that all that He leads me to is the culture I’m to pursue. Yes, there is injustice, too much of it, but God is just. What He calls me to is to be part of His culture. No one or culture can tell me what is right or wrong within where God leads.

I love how Greg Boyd ends many messages when he preaches. He either concludes his prayers with, “and all of God’s kingdom people said- AMEN!” Or his final words are, “GO OUT AND BUILD THE KINGDOM!”

Amen to that! I am finding MY culture! KINGDOM CULTURE!

(This isn’t how I played with my toys when I was 4… culture)

Eee…Banana!

Nede said with a sense of urgency as we got in the car today for her to go play with Carlos’s kids, “Eee. Sistah Dare-dah! Frio (cold in portuguese). Banana.”

“What Nede?” as she crossed her arms to indicate that she is cold.

She then pointed to the house to tell me that she forgot her “banana.” I then showed her that we had bananas in the car. She clearly didn’t mean to be saying that she forgot her “banana”. She had forgotten her sweater.

Poor things, she’s confused between 3 languages!

Peace

Nede’s at Pascua’s and I am enjoying a cup of coffee and reading my Bible without interruption for the first time in weeks. Times of peace and quiet are priceless now. Through all my fatigue, early mornings, temper tantrums and giggles I am experiencing more and more what an honor it is to be called to care for a child, a child who has been born into oppression.
In Psalm 72 (vs 4, 12-14) Solomon writes  about what a perfect leader would look like. It says,

Help him to defend the poor, to rescue the children of the needy and to crush their oppressors.

He will rescue the poor when they cry to him; he will help the oppressed, who have no one to defend them.

He feels pity for the weak and the needy, and he will rescue them.

He will save them from oppression and from violence, for their lives are precious to him.

Honored to be helping one, as God leads

little eyes

I was recently taken back when I realized how much Nede is watching me. Of course I knew this but when I realized that she has already changed within 2 weeks I was a bit shocked and scared actually. The “habit” that I noticed was while she’s brushing her teeth. It was obvious when she first was with me that someone had taught her to brush her teeth quite well. I was shocked (well done Sarah! Thank you!). I have been told in the past by a few close friends that I am “the messiest tooth brusher” that they have ever known. Well, I think Nede has noticed and is enjoying the freedom it brings! Shame, that is not what I want to teacher her!

Okay, so this is a VERY small thing but it was a strong reminder. It reminds me of the children’s song that says,

oh be careful little eyes what you see

oh be careful little eyes what you see

for the Father up above is looking down in love

oh be careful little eyes what you see

These are important days. Denise always reminds me that “the world is watching”. It’s true isn’t it, my “world” has just come a bit closer now.

Be careful little eyes…

(playing Disney Princess Memory. What a great thing to find in my house!)

“For ME?”

I wish you could hear her little squeaky voice each time she says, “For ME?? Sista Dar-da, FOR ME??” I hear it a million times a day it seems as Nede asks in complete amazement about EVERYTHING and if it is for her. “Sista Dar-da, Sista Dar-da (sometimes mutating into Sista Dar-doo), for ME?”

The food I prepare for breakfast, “For ME?”

The tangerines I buy at the market, “for ME?”

The eggs I hard boil, “for ME?”

Things she doesn’t even know what they are, “for ME?”

Emily visiting, “Sista Dar-da, Emma, FOR ME?”

I feel like I don’t quite understand all that is wrapped up in those two little words. “FOR ME?”

Insecurity?

Fear?

Bewilderment?

Unbelief?

Hope?

I’ll never understand what is going on in her little mind and all that she has been thinking/feeling over the last 3 weeks. She’s unable to express much, and/or, I’m unable to understand her Shona.

Sometimes I even get frustrated and annoyed and just want to scream, “YES, NEDE IT’S FOR YOU!” When I am tired (which is a lot lately) her voice isn’t always sweet to my ears, but that is nothing about Nede, it’s about me and it’s then that I need to check my heart. Today at one point, I am not sure what exactly I was dealing with at the time, but, I didn’t want to be doing it—whether it was on an early morning trip to the toilet or if she was scared of a cow 100 meters away I didn’t feel like being compassionate. Then, then I was reminded of Jesus saying: “ Whatever you do to the least of these, you have done it to me.” Matt 25:40

This isn’t about me. It’s not even about Nede. It’s surely not “for ME” (as in Dara). It’s for HIM! It’s for Jesus because it means something to Him that I gave Nede a hug, kiss and an apple today. “No, Nede, not for you. For Jesus.”

I pray one day she’ll have blessed assurance. Assurance deeper than her basic needs being met. It’s my hope all her wounds will be healed, not by me, but by God- our healer. I pray she won’t have to ask, “For ME?” with such expectancy too much longer.

For today, “Yes, Nede, for you!” Smile.

What now?

Bridget sent me some CDs a few weeks back and one of the songs on it speaks my heart. It brought me back to truth this week. I’m tired and with that comes room for much doubt, fear, questions and feelings of being totally overwhelmed. These are the words to the song, I am not sure who sings it (Steven Curtis Chapman, maybe?) but it really is the journey I have been on over the last 2 years:

I saw the face of Jesus, in a little orphan girl.

She was standing, in the corner, on the other side of the world.

And I heard the voice of Jesus, gently whisper to my heart.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to find me?

Well, here I am, here you are.

So what now?

What will do now that you found me?

What now?

What will you do with this treasure you found?

I know I may not look like what you expected.

But if you'll remember  this is  right where I said I would be.

You found me…

What now?”

Wow! What now Dara? When I am tried and feel a total loss of “freedom”, what now? Do I want to be anywhere else than where I have found Jesus. No. This is not what I expected but it is where I found Jesus. It’s only when I start thinking as the world thinks that I really fear or question what I am doing.

The last words of the song are:

So come and know.

Come and know.

Come and know me now.

What will you do now that you found me?

What now?

What will you do with this treasure you’ve found?

No, I may not look like what you’ve expected, YOU FOUND ME!

I’ll keep going because I have found Jesus in a treasure, and this is what I was looking for.