Dear Livingstone, Zambia

Dear Livingstone, Zambia

I can’t begin to describe my month with you. I struggle to write this last blog, because that means my time here is over. The way that you have changed me in every possible way is so indescribable, but I will try my best to put it into words for those reading to understand. Your beauty is not capable to be shown through writing, photos, or videos.

I didn’t know what to expect entering in my first month of this trip, and when I first arrived in this country, I was afraid. I was afraid of being away from home, from my easier lifestyle in the United Sates, if I was strong enough to conquer the heartache, and even scared of relying on God for my life while I give up my possessions. I didn’t think I was even close to making the cut to survive this first month. I had never truly left home, let alone the country. I loved the concept of travelling and missionary work, but the thought is different from reality. Now that I have made it to the end, I would like to sum up my month in a sentence: I have never experienced something so difficult and consuming in my life, but have never been so radically changed by God.

Each day here is a challenge. We wake up to sweltering heat, covered in our own sweat. I try to tame my hair that is so dry, that it is unable to even lay flat on my head. I struggle to see myself through my small camping mirror, and in all honesty, I have not looked at my physical appearance since I left the United States. I pray for the water to be on so I can wash my hands or face in the morning, but if it is shut off, I resort to baby wipes. This leaves a lovely oil on my body that I can’t manage to rub off until I bathe. I read my Bible and listen to the words of my worship music, trying not to think of how disgusting and sweaty I am. Once we arrive to our ministry, the kids cling to us like glue. We are constantly objects to be jumped on, to pull our hair, or my favorite is when they grab my neck so I can’t breathe, struggling to climb on my back. The classrooms are chaos and shouts, constant pushing and pulling and fighting to get to sit on my lap. I deal with the overwhelming amount of tough love while attempting to not think about the heat that is enveloping me. Once we are back home and have had lunch, we get ready for soccer ministry. The walk there is about 30 minutes, and this includes mountains of rubble to dodge, and mud stuck to the inside of my toes from the rain of the night before. The bridge we cross to get over the brown rushing water is full of cracks and holes, and each time I am terrified of falling through. Once at the field, it is full of experienced soccer players…which as some may know, does not include me. I fight off the heat, and we do some Bible skits for the kids, hoping they can understand what we are saying. We head home, all trying to decide who can shower first. We arrive home and find that the water is usually off, so we must wait another day to shower. Some struggle to tame their sun burns, (thankfully, that’s only happened once to me) while others start handwashing their clothes for the next days. We have dinner and do our team time, then head back to our mosquito net beds for the night. I listen to the sounds of the night life of Livingstone, and squeals of the abandoned dogs roaming the neighborhood. After experiencing our jam-packed day for the first time, all I could think was, “What did I get myself into?”

Each day has been a new experience, a new world, a new way of seeing God. I have gotten used to the heat. In fact, I am starting to love it. Yes, the rain that breaks up the pattern of hot days is a blessing, and it is like heaven on earth when I can get the fan to myself, but I have also realized that I am not the only one that experiences the heat. The citizens of Livingstone experience the sweat, the flies, the heat every day, all day, and with absolutely no complaint. What gives me the right to be mad about weather? I have learned to embrace every shining sun, every bead of sweat that falls to the floor, and every sweaty encounter with my sleeping mat.  I have accepted the fact that I can’t see how I physically look. My wonderful teammates, the wonderful children, and the wonderful townspeople still say how beautiful I am, how creatively made I am, and greet me with a warm smile and hug every day. God has created me so different, so unique, so creative. Why would I need to cover that with makeup and insecurities? I have gotten over my dry and sweaty hair after the first few days…thank the Lord for the creation of headbands and hair ties, and thank the Lord for teammates and their amazing braiding skills. I am becoming secure and confident in the way God made me, and I am absolutely loving the fact that I don’t need to look in the mirror to feel beautiful.

 It took me a while to find my purpose in the school ministry. I love the affection the kids showed, their enthusiasm, and their precious smiles. Unfortunately, I came to a point where I didn’t see my purpose in the chaos. How can being a human jungle gym, or showing kids how to draw letters in the dirt, be a form of bringing God to the world? After long prayer and encouragement from my team, I began to see the beauty of what we were doing. Each child is so different, and so is their home life. Our conversation with them, our hugs, our hand holds, these may be all that they have gotten in that past month. We offer them a hope; a hope that they are special and worthy, and that God is so good. We plant seeds in their lives, that they can go home and tell their family, neighbors, or friends that we were at their school that day. We are the ones that they will remember long after we depart, knowing that there is so much the world can offer them, and that they are not alone in the fight. We offer them love, acceptance, and the chance to dream. We offer them a chance to find Jesus, and to hold on to Him with all they can. As we approached our last day at school, I couldn’t help but smile in the sweaty classroom and thank God for this opportunity. The children not only taught me to be confident in myself, but that there is so much to be thankful and happy for, even in the toughest situations. A teammate said a child told her this, “Whenever you are sad, think of something happy”. Even though these may be the smallest of words coming from a very small human, I think of how full of joy this child is in, and how he is so beyond wise for his years. As I left the Malota Community School the very last time, and hugged my buddy JJ so very tightly, I thanked God with all that I possibly could. (And maybe shed a few tears in the process) The kids have inspired me even more than I may have inspired them. My life will never be the same after my time with their beautiful faces. 

Ever since the beginning of my month here, I loved soccer ministry. Even though I was and am not the least bit good at it, it was so amazing to see how much the kids had a passion for it. They were so willing to help and teach me about soccer as much as they could, and they would come out to meet us, rain or shine. I have met so many amazing kids throughout soccer. Every day I meet someone new, but each new encounter is like a new lesson. They tell me about their dreams and goals, and what they aspire to be in life. They have so much joy in the smallest things, but that impacts everything that they do. They are so thankful for the fact that we bring them a soccer ball, or that we can manage to find big rocks to serve as goal posts. Normally, I have observed that they use big globs of lent as a ball to play a game with, but that doesn’t stop them from enjoying all that they have. In my month here, I have not heard one complaint about the weather or about the fact that they must play with us. I have not observed any fighting with parents about not wanting to go outside, or any pouting on the sidelines. Every moment is so precious, and I am so thankful for the opportunity to learn from them. After our 2 hours of playing soccer, we do a Bible skit for them and a song. They watch intently, but only if we theatrically act out the stories. We then stand up, make a huge circle and hold hands, and sing a song about Jesus. If I only saw one laugh or smile, it would make the whole journey worth it. The walks to and from soccer are also something I am so thankful for. The kids would follow us all the way home, fighting over who got to hold our hands or sit on our shoulders. The walk home also gave me an additional opportunity to learn more about their lives, and what their home life is like. I met a girl named Precious whose dream is to travel the world as a nurse. Her father has tried to give her the best schooling he can, but they are running out of money. She doesn’t know if she can afford nursing school, let alone schooling at all. Her father has taught her the importance of loving Jesus, and treating others as they should be treated. I explained to her that if we pray and have faith in all that God can do for us, all her dreams in life can come true. I also told her to not be anxious for her future, but be so thankful that your father cares so much about you and about Jesus. When there is love and faith, all she could ever want will happen through God. She also began to tell me that her favorite book of the Bible is Romans, especially because the name Romans is “so cool”. I gave her a hug as we departed, but little did I know that it was the last time I’d see her again. Before she turned away I told her that I can’t wait to see her again, and she can be my nurse when she stops in the United States as she travels. Her smile was so big that it made my heart fill with so much joy. I am still so thankful that I spoke those last words to her.

My time in Zambia has radically changed my view on life, and on God. I am so thankful for all that I have, and what I do not have. Every single drop of rain I find myself thanking God for, and every night that I can successfully tuck in my mosquito net. I am taking time out of my life to dedicate to the Lord, versus taking a nap or watching a movie. We recently had an all-night prayer night, and I was up from 2am-4am simply praying. My prayer life has dramatically improved, because the 2 hours flew by, and I didn’t want to go back to sleep. I am craving God on such an intimate and personal level. I am fasting food and I hunger for the love of God, versus the satisfying taste of French fries. I desire time to read my Bible and learn more about the power of God, rather than craving the taste of social media and Wi-Fi.  I am finding that there is so much more life can offer, all because of God. God is present every day in our lives, whether that be through the smile of a child, or a positive thought that comes to your head. He speaks to you in a variety of ways, and it is up to us to listen. I am finding myself saying yes to all life can offer. This includes stepping out of my comfort zone and talking and praying to a homeless, blind man on the street, or comforting a taxi driver amid a divorce, telling Him about Jesus’ sacrifice and forgiving heart. Every day is a new way to seek God, and bring His love to earth. How had I not been doing this before? Dear Livingstone Zambia, what did you do to my eyes?

Thank you all for following my journey in Zambia. There is so many things that I cannot wait to tell all of you when I come home, and every detail of Livingstone. These blogs give a mere perspective, because the beauty of God and Livingstone is not able to be described in words. We are currently in debrief, processing all that God is doing and has done during our time here. I am going to miss so many things. I will miss our daily walks through the town, which includes so many loving children and mothers who smile and greet us every day. (I won’t particularly miss the constant whistles from men, or getting noticed due to my skin color) I will miss the variety of markets that sell clothing, fish, fresh fruits and vegetables, and even homemade barber shops. I will miss the shouts and screams of the children running down the street, a herd coming forth to our group awaiting hugs and handholds. I will miss all the children, for they have taught me more then I may have taught them. I will miss the thundering rain that shakes our small Zambian home, echoing from the metal roof. I will miss the rivers of brown rain water mixed with garbage that we hop and dodge on our way to ministry. I will miss my safety-pin held mosquito net, overlooking my cracked window. I will miss looking out this window always during the day and night, hearing and seeing the sounds of people and animals. I will miss the leak in the roof above my bed, causing me to take a nice rain shower throughout the night. I will miss the sight of the stars, so exquisite and bright, filling the sky unlike at home where they become hidden by pollution. I will miss the bucket showers, fighting for a turn before the water turns off. I will miss boiling my clothes that I bought at the market, since there may be bugs hiding inside. I will even miss the flies, lizards, and even more bugs. I will never forget (more than one occasion) hearing objects shuffling and moving of furniture in the other rooms, although all of us are in one area (Thank you giant lizards and mice of Zambia). I will miss the sweaty nights full of lizard catching, struggling to adjust my sleeping pad, or not being able to fall asleep to the sound of whining dogs. I will miss the feeling of being caked from dirt and mud from our intense soccer games. I will miss my Nama Tama house, the way we struggle to hang-dry our laundry because of the rain. My goodness, just typing this blog makes me miss it so much more. I will miss every single stinkin’ moment of this place, and the way that it changed my heart.

We will be travelling to Botswana the morning of February 28^th. The journey will take 2 days by a bus (yay for seeing lots of wildlife on the ride there!), but we will be staying at a guest house overnight to sleep. We are not sure what our ministry looks like for the month, but upon arrival we will get a better understanding. I want to announce that I will be Wi-Fi fasting throughout my month in Botswana. Essentially, this means that I will not be posting blogs or updating family members on my whereabouts. Once the month has ended, I will post all the blogs that I will write on my computer throughout the month. I apologize for this inconvenience to all of my readers and loved ones. I am desiring to fill my heart with God for when I deal with homesickness, and craving social media. This next month, I am anxiously awaiting what God is going to do with my heart and mind, and I cannot wait to share it all with you.

God Bless you all, and time for Seronga, Botswana!