things i love about africa [part 3]

A journal entry I wrote on July 5th, 2011:

These Africa moments I love..

- worshipping in the bedroom
- broken lightbulbs in the clinic with Sara and Nate
- sleeping on Alaina's shoulder the whole way home
- Summer's prayers
- dancing with babies during church
- everyone home from the clinic and being all together again
- car ride stories with the gnarley dudes
- 'Doctor Iddi'
- early morning (not-so-quiet) times with God
- Africa dirt in my mouth (and hair and face and just about everywhere else)
- Isaiah 41:10

Africa is hard, but good.. so good. The thought of going home makes me sad, but excited. I want to see my family and everyone back in Chicago. But the thought of leaving these precious children? It hurts my heart.

It's the little things here.. like jelly beans rationed out each day, having a 1-hour rest in the afternoon, soda (cold!) for lunch, and the cool weather that comes with the rain. It's peanut butter spread onto toast, Summer sharing her small package of powdered lemonade with me, hearing from home every Monday (my favorite day of the week), playing scrabble with Kasandra. I have never been more thankful for each moment, each little thing, and I have never had so much joy.

He is my Jehovah Jireh

"And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work." -- 2 Corinthians 9:8

To this I can testify: God provides. Yesterday, I packed and addressed and mailed 4 boxes- filled with school supplies and shoes and dresses and clothes- to Africa, and watched God provide. I can't be in Africa right now, but I can mail packages to those children I love dearly. And the joy that fills me with can't be described.

My (absolutely wonderful) cousin and I bring the boxes into Fedex and are handed the international forms to fill out. I will admit, I'm worried. About what, I don't exactly know. Maybe it's the abruptness of the woman behind the counter that takes me by surprise, or the fact that we're actually mailing these boxes I've waited nearly 2 months to send that seems unreal, or the unfamiliarity of the forms I'm filling out, or a combination of all three. But for whatever reason, I'm worried.

We fill out the forms that ask for details I wasn't prepared for. We walk to the counter and and our forms are handed back to us, some parts needing to be fixed. My worry turns to slight panic. But we fix the forms, and things seem better. Then my cousin shows his I.D. (the I.D. that will hopefully get us the 75% discount) and the woman behind the counter says his airline doesn't qualify. Fear. It now fills every part of me.

Disagreements are exchanged as I stand there. Suddenly, I'm back to that place of utter dependency I had in Africa. That familiar, heartbreaking, sweet utter dependency I haven't felt in so long. I stand there knowing that God's got to come through on this because I have no other option. This place.. it's beautiful, it's been oh-so missed, and it's humbling.


God, please. Please, God. Perhaps the most heartfelt, most dependent prayer I've prayed since returning home from Africa is that silent prayer I pray in the Fedex office in Evanston. The woman's fingers click on the keyboard behind me. God, if You want these boxes to Uganda, provide a way. I stand there praying His will over the boxes, and the discount goes through.

The woman mumbles a comment, more to herself than to us, "Wow, you saved a lot of money." We take the receipt, the tracking info, and the papers and walk out. I do the math when I get home, and stare at the numbers. It can't be right. I must've done something wrong. I redo my math, the same numbers appear. I do the math one more time, same answer. I stare at the paper, shocked. God has provided in numerous ways today. I'm shocked, humbled, in awe, and thankful.

In a few weeks, my Africa friends will receive school supplies and clothes and soccer balls. And I am so excited about that. I'm also so thankful to those of you who helped send these boxes off. Thank you for donating your school supplies, clothes, and money for the shipping cost. I am beyond words thankful. I hope to be able to continue sending a box every once in a while, so if you have girl's dresses or skirts, boy's shorts or shirts, shoes, soccer balls, or money you'd like to donate, let me know.

I have seen it again and again in my past, and I want to see it again and again in my future. I want to stand in the will of God, and watch how He provides. Because although I doubt and I worry and I fret (and stand thankful for His grace), I believe that when you're doing His will, He'll provide. He is Jehovah Jireh. He sees and He provides.

in the words of sara groves

"I saw what I saw, and I can't forget it. I heard what I heard, and I can't go back. I know what I know, and I can't deny it. Your pain has changed me. Your dream inspires. Your face a memory. Your hope a fire. Your courage asks me what I'm made of. Your courage asks me what I'm afraid of. Your courage asks me what I know of love."

africa slip-and-slide

They slip-and-slide (butt naked, mind you) right across the road from our house. They run along the porch and slide--on their stomaches, their bottoms, hands in front of them, or spread out to the side. It has just rained (more like stormed) during this afternoon in Africa, everything beautiful and muddy and wet. They slip and they slide, and we laugh and we laugh. This version of slip-and-slide is very new to us Americans, to say the least. And so, this is where the ever-famous phrase "T.I.A." (This Is Africa) is the only thing my team and I have to say as we watch this absolutely crazy fun (secretly wishing we could join in).

Pictures do not do this moment justice, so I'm not even going to upload the ones I have. This video comes closest to capture the ever-awesome African Slip n' Slide. So yeah, enjoy.