Grateful

It’s been a beautiful day. It’s raining, the first in over 3 weeks since my arrival. I haven’t sweat a bead. As I sit here, a cool breeze refreshes my house. The powers been on and off all day and night. Never mind though, I don’t need it today. I’ve had all I need—time to rest, reflect and enjoy a few good books. And now, I sit with the opportunity to share with all of you, far away but so close to my heart.

It’s the simple things that have me hoping and content with life today. As I sit at the table looking out over the eucalyptus forest the mist continues to hang around as dusk is falling. Next to me I enjoy a simple luxury—an ice cold bottle of Coke.

I feel at ease today as I won the battle of ants that threatened my sanity for most of the week. I now can reclaim access to my kitchen counter as it has stopped looking like a moving sidewalk (moving with ants) and I may dare to put an item of food on it tonight in my dinner prep. Zenia, one of the girls from the mission, is a current hero in my eyes. She delivered to me a “mystery” powder from the Gondola market which, within minutes of a thorough sprinkle, thousands of millions of ants were falling to their death. Hopefully this powder isn’t too powerful of a carcinogen and I won’t be needing it often. Here’s a picture of what I swept off the top of an outlet (and the ground below) what apparently served as an entry point for these nuisances. Quadrillions of tiny ants…

It’s the simply things that make me REALLY grateful here. No more ants, coke from a bottle and the technology to stay connected. Also, as I lay in bed last night, listening to the rain falling on my roof, I started thinking of the homes of most people here—mud huts. How do they manage on cool, rainy nights like this? I drifted off to sleep praying for them.

I’ll never understand why I can blog on my laptop when the power is out with a bottle of Coke in hand in my warm, clean (relatively) house. I’ll never understand this but, I am grateful. Very grateful, for simple things.

My grateful heart feels peace and joy today.

Whom do we blame?

On Tuesday Carlos and I went to Zimbabwe to work on my visa process so that I am allowed to stay in the country longer than 3 months. The day went without a hitch and we were on our way home before dusk. I was struck by a monolog Carlos had with himself as we crossed the border. As we entered Mozambique, there was the usual line up of semi trucks waiting to cross the border, or whatever they do. As we passed one situation we witness a couple young girls conversing with the truck driver. Carlos and I looked at each other, hearts sick knowing the connection between truck drivers, prostitution and the rampant spread of HIV.

Carlos then spoke:
“Whom do we blame?

Blame no one!

Blame hunger?”

I sat in silence. I SIT in silence. Thinking about this monolog.  Whom do we blame?

Women’s Day

Yesterday was Women’s Day. At times I feel like I am at a Mozambican Ladies Aid gathering. I find myself wondering, who am I and how did I get here? as I sit with this group of women. Surely they must be solving all the latest village problems and world issues as they speak Shona a million miles a minute.  Occasionally I catch a word and join in on their laughter of things such as whether it’s more attractive to be “fat” and “curvy” or skinny! Voluptuous curves win out here!

It also seems that somehow the influence of the Western girls that have spent time with these ladies have now got them thinking they should start jogging—a completely non-African mentality. This had us all laughing as did the discussion as to what defines a women. There was much debate actually! Some say you need to be wise to be considered a women. Some say you need to have been through child-bearing and others say your a women at 18 years old, others say 25 years!

At the end of the day there were no problems solved and no jogging occurred. We laughed and we ate and I enjoyed my first Mozambican celebration of Women’s Day—an experience.

love

I guess I wasn’t prepared for the insult on my senses when I returned to do visits with the volunteers today in Gondola. Carlos was shocked afterwards when I said to him in Portuguese that “my heart is heavy.” I think he thought that I didn’t mean to say that.

I meant it to the core of my being.

The first visit we made was to a young lady who couldn’t have been more than 25 yrs old. But really, who can tell when you’re looking at a skeleton barely covered with flesh? The scene was straight from an awareness film regarding the AIDS pandemic in Africa. As the 3 of us encompassed her, she turned, as best she could to look at me. I pray she didn’t feel an ounce of shame in that moment. I didn’t know what to do. I just wanted to hold her. I wanted to touch her and let her know that she is NOT forsaken, she is not less, she is not untouchable. I held her arm, I stroked her skin wanting her to know she’s loved. Not by me, because of what worth could that even be? She is loved and adored by the Maker of the Stars. I pleaded for her. Her story is just the same as millions of others.  Her husband died, she’s left alone with 2 kids, she gets sick, leaves her kids with her husband’s mother to come live with her mother as she now wastes away—starred at as if they’ve all seen this multiple times before, helpless and blind. She’s just one—one that won’t make it through the weekend. Two new orphans will be statistics in Mozambique soon. This story is far more than statistical.

It seems I have written this same story before. I’ll probably write another next week. It doesn’t end. I practically can’t stand actually being part of what life is like here, but even more, I can’t stand not being part of it.

What an honor it is to love. The Lord sustains me.

On a happier note, here’s another Dara I met in Mozambique today:

Tremor de terra

What have I been doing with my days? Well, I wish that I had miraculous stories to share. Maybe stories of physical healing or manna raining down from the heavens to feed the hungry or a revival of people coming to know and trust the Lord. I don’t have those stories to report. At least, not yet.

I don’t feel I have anything incredible to share as of yet but I can share a few things of what daily life is like.

Some mornings I come out of the bathroom to find a small face with little hands cupped up against my screen, curiosity just overflowing from the mission children wondering what “Sistah Dara” is up to. (Sleeping that’s what I’ve been up too!:)

And this morning I woke to an invasion of bees coming into my screened in kitchen/dining area.

I am not always confident God knows what He’s doing when He sends me off alone on adventures like this. I would rather defer situations like this to someone else. I’m typically okay with a little squirming, maybe screaming, and leaving the room. I did what I knew to do (sprayed Raid and left the room;) Usually a can of Raid lasts longer than 2 weeks doesn’t it? I’ve been busy fumigating). To no avail the bees kept coming. Manuel and Timosse both told me their two cents and assured me “Carlos is coming.” 

Carlos came prepared. Before I knew it Carlos was waving flaming paper around INSIDE the house saying, “They don’t like the smoke, they’ll be gone soon! They don’t like the smoke!” 

Ha! It worked.

If the morning hadn’t been exciting enough, when I finally got settled down to work on some computer stuff I was meant to do this morning, it wasn’t long before something started happening. I heard what I initially thought was some crazy thunder. I immediately looked up from my computer screen to Manuel and Timosse for some reassurance. They looked as confused as I was. It continued for a number of seconds and my table shook slightly. When it stopped, there were some unfamiliar Portuguese words exchanged (most are unfamiliar) and I guess, it was a “tremor de terra,” an earthquake!! Can someone please google and see if inland Mozambique really gets earthquakes??? What was that?

There you have it, some of the “exciting things” that have been happening. As much as I desire to see more meaningful things happen, and as much as I would love my life to be an intriguing novel of African miracles, some days I am just living here. Maybe I’m not here to solve any ones problems. Maybe I am just here to live life with the people, to walk beside them. If that is all I do here am I willing to trust God that that is enough? Is loving people not enough? I am not sure, but I think it may be.

Perhaps spending the afternoon and becoming friends with women who put chickens in beautiful baskets does more that is apparent.

I hope so.

3 things to share

#1: Abundant GRACE

Someone asked me the other day how I am doing. I honestly responded with, “Actually, I think God is being really good to me. I am doing pretty well, far better than I would expect.” Jacqui gently responded, “I think that’s what we call grace.”

I have been thinking about this since she said that. I started asking myself—what is grace? In my situation right now, what is grace? My definition is this: Unexplained okayness in difficult times. I realize okayness is not a word but it fits. Not knowing if I really am understanding grace here and now, I looked to my Bibles definition which states: God’s Free and unmerited favor toward sinful humanity.

Yes! That’s it. Completely undeserved okayness in a difficult time and place! God is SHOWERING me with GRACE! This is God at work in my life. I am experiencing undeserved okayness.

#2: Baby Dara

I had forgotten that just prior to my departure from Moz last time that one of the volunteers that I worked with (Mesa) had had a baby and they named it Dara! I saw Mesa for the first time today and the first thing he told me is that his “Dara” is now crawling all around! Oh!!!! I am humbled. I think this could be called grace too! Watch soon for a picture of Dara and Dara. I look forward to meeting this little one!

#3: Stars that Shine Brighter

It seems, hmm, what would I say? Ironic? Not really—Divine. I am currently reading a book called “God on Mute: Engaging the Silence of Unanswered Prayer”. It has touch many places in my heart as I do feel I am in a silent place in regards to a few areas of my life. Anyway, the quote that I want to share with you (written by Pete Greig):

I don’t know why your prayers haven’t been answered. But I do know that the very best thing about our lives—the most incredible thing we’ve got going for us—is that the Creator of a million stars is entirely and eternally good, that He is utterly caught up in the details of our situation, and that He cares for us more the we care for ourselves.

I love that. The Creator of these “stars that shine brighter” cares for me. He cares for you! And He’s gracious—so, so, so GOOD!

More soon! I hope you’re well and experiencing His GRACE too! XOXO

The Stars Shine Brighter

The stars shine brighter here in Africa
My wounds are deeper
My questions are harder
My heart lays rawer
My cries are louder
But the stars, they shine brighter here in Africa.

My longings surface faster
My desires intensify
My fears are more numerous
My flesh is weaker
But the stars, they shine brighter here in Africa.

While here in this place of brokenness and pain
I surrender
For God is here, closer
God is calling my name
God is saying, “come, I adore you. All of you—each.” God, He’s among us
He’s on His throne
And He whispers softly, “I’m shining brightly, I made those stars”

Those stars that shine brighter here in Africa.

Lead me in the right path, O Lord,

or my enemies will conquer me.

Tell me clearly what to do,

and show me which way to turn.

Psalm 5:8

 

 

Until I know what to say,

It was a good day.

Praise the LORD

Have you seen my beautiful new niece and nephews??? Praise God all went well and all babies are healthy and, as far as I know, my sister is recovering well. There are pictures on their blog: www.thedaucs.blogspot.com Thanks for your prayers for them!

I got my cell phone and internet access set up. Please feel free to call me and or text message (you dial) 011 258 82 351 5386. I think that is right.

More to come soon.

I am doing quite well.

I am back

I’ve made it. After a long exhausting journey I am here. It feels good. It feels bad. I cry for what I left behind, I cry for what’s ahead. More importantly I try to cling to what I have heard the Lord ask of me in the last year and a half—that’s how long I feel like God has been preparing me for this time.

Once I got on my way from DC everything went pretty well. My time in Johannesburg was nothing but blessed by kindness from an arranged mutual friend. I was well taken care of and graciously received from and returned to the airport with enough Rand (SA currency) in hand to enjoy one last latte!

I managed to maneuver my luggage and get checked into my flight to Beira, Moz after a few grouchy ticket agents and a $250 “rebooking fee” since I missed my flight in DC. Some of you would be proud of me—I am not totally passive in such situations but sometimes you’re just at other persons mercy when your traveling—especially in Africa! I wasn’t thrilled by this expense.

Now that I am back at my house in Moz it seems like I never left. I was going to move into the bedroom Laura lived in before but I couldn’t—it didn’t seem quite right. I am back in my old bed. I did change my mosquito net to a nice, fresh white one which may be a bit less restrictive than the one I suffered under last time. Other than that, I still hate cockroaches, there are still large “crack spiders” that I have chosen to continue to make peace with and the sound of passing sheep could be my alarm clock.

It’s been raining a lot since I have been here. That’s nice though—it does seem to cool it off some. Snow is suddenly a distant memory. I’m suddenly back to a constant state of “moist” and wish I didn’t have bangs to form a nice big curl in the middle of my forehead.

As I sit her with my still packed bags starring me in the face I guess I should try to “settle in”. I still feel quite reluctant by my arrival. I woke up this morning feeling like I was in a very familiar place but feeling very unsure of how I got here and why. I do know why but I need prayers for the strength of it. I feel quite overwhelmed by what I left behind.

My sister’s c-section is on Tues—please cover Disa and Trevor and all involved in prayer. And since I am not there, and you could be, will you help any anyway they need? I know they’re well taken care of. It breaks my heart that I’m not available.

Sarah has graciously let me borrow her phone which allows me to post this. I hope to get my phone arrangements completed tomorrow, so, if successful I’ll send me number out then.

Until then dormir bem. (sleep well, well at least I’m going to sleep:) xoxo