oh, for the love of fabric

Well today it happened.  One of my fears came true.

The illusive it.  The possibility of something not going according to plan.  Or in today's case, the it was getting lost.  That's right, I got lost trying to find the fabric store.

I have been living here going on 4 months now but I really do not know my way around the city very well.  Bamako is huge, very condensed, and completely confusing.  Think I'm exaggerating?  Well you tell me how effective directions are that include... oh you know go to the hippo monument and turn right, go past the Nems stand, look for the tin roof shop that has brooms outside then turn left, then go to the stop light with the flashing numbers and then turn right after the roadside shop that has a cell phone painted on the side of it.  [these are pretend directions but you get my point]

If you can master the directions in this city, you are golden.  As for me, well I like GPS and addresses with house numbers and street names.  But that's just me!  Don't get me wrong, I like adventure, that is if it is carefully planned.

So it is obvious to say that I don't venture out and about the city alone all that often.  However, today, today I needed to go to the fabric store.  I have been waiting on a chair to be recovered for weeks now and finally heard back for the carpenter that he needed more fabric.  Inside I freaked out a bit and had a little stomping moment, knowing that him needing more fabric meant that I would have to go get said fabric.

After carefully going over directions with my teammate I thought I had a pretty good idea of where I was going.  I had been there once before so the landmark directions she gave me where vaguely familiar.  So I put on my big girl panties and headed out!  I was going to do this.  I was determined!

The first 2 minutes in the taxi should have tipped me off that this morning was not going to go as planned... but that's a story for another time.  We made it over the river and into the part of town that the fabric store is in.  I saw the monument to pass, the first stop light to go through, the banks on my left.  I saw all the landmarks and well I got us off path somehow.  Knowing I was in the general area I asked the taxi driver to let me out.  I figured I would have more luck on foot.

As soon as I stepped out of the taxi a rush of "you're not in Nebraska anymore" thoughts hit me.  "I got this" I whispered to myself as the barrage of comments began.  Let's just say a small white girl sticks out like a sore thumb in a large Malian market! ha!  I honestly had no idea where I was going so I just started to walk.

I never felt scarred.  Uncomfortable?  Yes.  But never fearful.  So I walked.  And walked some more.

Finally a guy approached me and I told him I didn't understand what he was saying but thought maybe he could help so I told him where I was trying to go.  Well, as anyone who lives here already knows how this ends, he had no idea.  I ended up in an ally, ushered to a back room full of fabric.  Yes, it was fabric but most definitely not the large fabric store with a specific name that I was looking for.  This continued with two other guys who thought they knew exactly where I needed to go... two more back rooms with fabric.  But finally at the last back room, as I was about ready to ask them to help me find a taxi, the guy said he knew the store I was talking about...

What's one more attempt I thought to myself.  I thanked them for their help and said my goodbyes.  They left me with a lovely saying in English... "good-bye short friend!"  I just had to laugh.  And like that we, me and another guy, were off to find the fabric store.  It was then I realized just how lost I really was because I had NO idea where in the world I was!  As I was pondering just how lost I was I managed to lose the guy who was helping me.

Yes.  I know.

I soon caught up to him and he promptly grabbed my hand and set off again.  Thankfully he took my hand quickly enough that I did not have time to process what was happening and thankfully I don't speak Bambara well enough yet to understand the slew of comments that started as soon as my hand was in his.

Fabric.  All I wanted was to buy more fabric from a store.  Yet, I found myself lost in one of Bamako's largest markets, fumbling over French words in back ally rooms, and walking hand in hand with a older Malian man.  Oh, for the love of fabric already!

But by golly, you know what?  That guy got me to the fabric store!  I'm sure I broke many cultural rules as I thanked him for his help and nearly ran inside the store.  Even though I couldn't find the store on my own, I knew exactly where the fabric was that I needed.  And like that, five minutes later I walked out of the store with my fabric.

As I rode in the back of the taxi on my way home, the dusty wind blowing in my face, I had to smile and laugh a little as I replayed the events of the last hour.  One of my fears I come true and I was still in one piece.  I was fine!  I was smiling.  That my friends, that is what I would call breakthrough.  I might make it here after all!

Wait. Where you worried?!?!

see but don't understand

My heart whispers write.  My mind yells back no! 

I am a talker, I always have been.  I am my father's daughter.  Coming to Mali has silenced me in a lot of ways.  Normal conversations are not doable at this time because I do not speak either language well enough.

For someone who likes to talk, to share, to listen, this time is difficult.

Spending 10 months in France last year was a trying time for me.  Not only because learning French proved very difficult for my brain, I also struggled deeply with being homesick, anger, loneliness, and at times feelings of great worthlessness and failure.  In my life, if I have not been able to accomplish something right away, I have normally given up on it.  Piano, quit.  Guitar, quit.  Basketball, quit.  School, quit.  I learned very quickly that if I can not be good at something then there is no point in continuing on in it.  My walls grew closer and closer as I learned all the many things I am not good at. Venturing out of my comfort zone became nearly non-existent.

Enter facades, masks, and fake smiles.  I learned to pretend in order to survive.  I became so good at pretending that even some of my closest friends didn't know the true me.

Like the hymnist writes, Prone to wander, Lord I feel it, prone to leave the God I love... I am a wanderer.  I am prone to isolate myself from God and the world.  I am prone to leave the love of the God that I love because I just can't believe I deserve it.

It was a mere six months after God rescued me from the dark pit of hopelessness and despair that I found myself in Mexico with my church youth group.  It was there in Mexico that God began to grow the plant of calling in my heart.  Ever since I could remember my heart burned with fierce passion and desire for the poor and injustice.  I would cry when commercials would come on asking for money to help starving children around the world.  As I began learning history in school I remember being enraged as I learned about slavery.  I remember a feeling of excitement rise up within me as I learned about the Civil Rights Movement and I remember the feelings of disappointment in my heart that I wasn't able to be a part of it.  The more I learned the more I swore within myself that when the time came I would be one who stood up again injustice and never one who kept my mouth shut.  Yes, even if it cost me everything.

When God brought me to the city garbage dump in Mazatlan, Mexico I can remember feeling giddy.  I also remember feelings of guilt and sadness within my heart - I had so much and yet I was never satisfied.  As the little kids came running to us with tattered clothes and huge smiles I was undone.  I was home.  I felt comfortable.  I colored pictures with the little girls and listened to their giggles.  I had no idea what they were saying but I just wanted to stay near to them.  That day wrecked my life.  A few hours and a fishing line necklace with a butterfly pendant later, my life would never be the same.  I knew where I belonged but I had no idea how to get there.

I spent much of the next 14 years desperately trying to rummage through the wreckage my life had become, trying to find my way to where I belong.  As my heart burned with desire to help, to alleviate hurt, to love people I was constantly meant with opposition.  I was seen as a dreamer, a naive young girl, a thorn in many sides.  My heart grew dim with time.  The burning had been smothered and was dwindling to barely a flicker.  A heart that once knew great passion was now lukewarm.

In so many ways I am still sifting through the wreckage of my life.  The landscape in which I do it now just looks different.  Although I do find it somewhat funny and a bit melodramatic that God would literally take me to the desert in order to continue walking through this spiritual desert season He has me in.  Although the passion has returned to my heart and I am once again a bonfire burning, I am no closer to understanding my call.

Every day here is a challenge.  A war [a spiritual war] is raging and I feel very unequipped and under dressed for the battle.  Satan hates children.  He has made that so very clear.  But in this war, at this time I have been rendered speechless.  This girl who declared in her heart that I would NEVER be silent against injustice.  Some nights I go to sleep so burdened that I can feel my heart growing dim.

I don't know their culture.  I don't know their beliefs.  I don't know their language.  I don't know their systems.  There are so many things that I don't know and so I have no way of processing all the things I see.

All I see is corruption and a system of accepted injustice.  But how do they see it?  Every time I get in a car I am guaranteed to be asked for money each time the car stops at a light.  Begging is a way of life here.  My mind can bear the fact of adults choosing [I use that word loosely] this way of life.  It's hard though because I do know that not every woman on the street begging is there by choice.  She may just happen to be wife number 3 and has been sent out by her husband to make him money.  Or she may have been blessed with twins and culturally that leads her to beg.  I can barely bear this reality.  But what I cannot bear is every time a little boy approaches the car window.  Signaling with his small, dirty hand that he wants food.  My heart is ripped in two but my mind immediately picks up on the system of manipulation.  It is in these moments that I want to rage.  I want to scream and shout and make a scene.  I want to yell at the top of my lungs, THIS IS WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I want to scoop them up and take them home.  I want to feed them, bathe them, hug them, read them stories, play with them and tell them over and over again - You are loved. You are precious. You are wonderfully made. You are smart. You are amazing!                

All these thoughts fly through my mind in the short 45 seconds I sit at the light and before my mind can process through it all we are speeding off to my destination and that little hand and little face that made my heart and mind swirl is on to the next car window.

The thorn in my flesh is my lack of immediate understanding of why God brought me here.  God has whispered things to me in secret and made me promises.  Secrets and promises that have yet to be fulfilled.  The thorn for me is my impatience.  I want to know and I want to know now!  But God has brought me to the desert.  In the desert the wind may blow but it blows hot air mixed with sand and dust.  As the Israelites found out, patience runs out quick in the desert.

And in all of this; all the tears, all the frustration, all the attempting to learn... I hear His still small voice through the rustle of the leaves and the car horn honks.  He tells me to, wait.

He reminds me that Jesus never did anything He didn't see the Father doing.  Jesus never said anything He didn't first hear the Father say.  Jesus.  Savior of the world, the God-man himself, had to wait.  He had to wait to speak.  He had to wait to do ministry.  He had to wait to reveal truth.  His life was also marked by this command, wait.

I'm not Jesus, obviously.  I'm not so good at waiting.  But I beg of my precious Jesus to make me one who is good at waiting.  And then I beg Him to be all that I cannot be for those He puts in front of me everyday until my wait is over.

Even when my wait is over, He gently reminds me, that even then only HE can give the children what they need and love them perfectly!  Apart from Jesus I am nothing.  So I lay my nothing self before my God as an empty vessel and ask of Him:  Abba please use me.  Any way, any time.  Just use me.    

nine extra days

It was rare to only talk to her once a week.  We had our weekly, Sunday skype dates that we never missed.  But usually I would give her a quick call throughout the week. 

That week had been particularly stressful.  I was still waiting for my passport and I was not handling my stress well.  So I didn't call her.  Any time I was super stressed about something and told Mom about it, she would take on that stress too.  I didn't want that for her, or me.

All week long I wanted to call her.  Time and time again I went to pick up the phone to call her but I stopped myself each time.  She has enough on her plate right now.  She doesn't need you adding to it!  So the week passed and I was so looking forward to our Sunday skype date.  I had so many things I wanted to talk to her about.

That Sunday skype date never happened. 

I didn't get to tell her all the things I wanted to.

The last time I talk to her, the last time I got to her my Momma's voice was nine days before she died.  Those nine extra days fill my heart with so much pain.  I cry often over those nine extra days.   

*********

Today a memory from Mom's funeral crept into my heart.  After the funeral service my family and I did a receiving line.  We wanted to see everyone who came and thank them for coming.  To be honest, it's all a bit of a blur.

But one couple will be forever seared into my mind.  A man and a woman came up to Dad and I but I had no idea who they were.  I smiled at them as they introduced themselves.  They lived at the apartment complex where my Mom was the office manager.  I was taken back by them being there but then what they said next took my breath away.  Without Julie, we would have been homeless. She was such a wonderful lady. We are going to miss her so much. 

Mom was honest and a bit brash at times.  She said it like it was.  And when she was passionate about something, you knew it!  

The thing that many people didn't know about my Mom was how tender and big her heart was!  She often hid it because in her line of work, a tender and big heart is a target to get walked all over and taken advantage of.  She would help someone, it would back fire, she'd get burned and she'd swear to never help again.  BUT the next time and there always was a next time, she would help.  

I am so thankful that couple decided to come to her funeral and have the courage to share (something that could be humiliating) with me and my family.  I needed to hear it.  My Dad really needed to hear it.

My Momma touched so many lives during her time on earth.  I just wish she could have known that when she was still here.

*********

Today I went out to lunch with two friends.  On our way in two little kiddos (maybe 6 or 7 years old) came up to one of them and began talking with her.  She knew these two from her time spent with homeless children in our city.  They asked her for stuff, they asked me for money, and like the hundreds of times before I said no.  They continued to smile their heart melting smiles.

As we were finishing up I had part of my sandwich left and Natali had some french fries left.  We were both think the same thing... let's wrap this up for them! 

As I walked to the car with the To Go bag in my hand, the two little ones quickly approached me with those huge heart melting smiles.  I bent down so I could look the one little girl in the face and handed her the bag.  Her smile took up her whole face.  She quickly said merci! and turned to share with the other little girl.  They followed closely as we got in the car, still smiling.  With a cute little wave, she said au revoir.

Gosh, I wanted so badly to scoop them both up in the biggest hugs.

Mom and I are both very passionate people.  Passionate about different things but passionate nonetheless.  My Mom taught me to be strong and to be committed.  

Even though I didn't see it before, I'm more like my Momma than I thought.  And that's something to be proud of.

a rough monday

What Monday isn't rough?  But this one was not particularly fun.  The circumstances of the day were not ideal.  The circumstances were uncomfortable.

It all just kind of sucked.  There I said it.

Along with the circumstances letting off a not so kind aroma, my attitude was much less than desirable also.

But really, what person wakes up after a horrible night's sleep and discovers the water has been cut [again], is going to be cheery?  I let it slide because I was leaving fairly early and just assumed it would be back on when I returned.

Then I returned.  No water.

A few hours later, still no water.

As the day lingers on and the heat is beginning to make my mind a little mushy and with it any ability to remain reasonable, my attitudes pops a squat and throws a fit.  But then I ask myself a question.  "You did move to Africa. What did you expect?"

Spirit check.  Ouch.  "What did you expect?"  No really, what did I expect?  What do I expect?

For me the reality of my circumstance is that I did have water, just not running water.  You see my house is set up with a large tank that is always full of safe, filtered drinking water.  I have easy access to water to keep me hydrated at all times.  I also have bottles of water sitting on my counter and in my refrigerator - from that filtered water tank.  [How else do you think I survived at all without my morning coffee?!]  And to top it all off I have several buckets that I can fill with unfiltered water to use for anything else.

The reality is, I had water.  It just wasn't conveniently coming from my faucets or allowing me to flush my toilet or giving me access to relief of cool air from the swamp cooler.

This however IS not the reality of my Malian neighbors.  When the water is cut, which happens quite often where I live, they truly are without water!

What did I expect?  

When I take a moment to think about what is the heart of the issue I realize it's not as much about what I expect.  The heart of the matter is that I am not living with a thankful attitude!  Because the truth is even if I do have an expectation in my mind that I should have water on a daily basis... the real issue is whether or not I am truly THANKFUL for all the provisions I have to offset the fact that there is no water coming from my faucets!!!

Am I thankful for what I have?  Or am I concentrating on what I don't have?

The only thing I should expect is that God will do what He has promised to do... That He will never leave me or forsake me and He will care for my needs! 

I guess I can handle the rough Mondays [and tuesdays, wednesdays, thursdays, fridays, saturdays and sundays] if in the end God changes my heart in the process.

one week down

I have thought about sitting down to write everyday over the past week.  But as I think about writing, I think about what I would write.  For me writing here is like talking.  This place is basically me having a verbal conversation with people whom I am far away from and want to talk to but can't.

The problem is, I don't know what I should talk to you about.  There are so many things.  Then again, not every one of the things on my heart need to be talked about right now.  Oh the decisions...

Today marks one week in Mali.  This has possibly been the longest week of my life.  Not in a bad way though!  Just long.  Every sense I have has been over loaded.  Per usual when moving to a new city overseas.

New sounds
New sights
New smells
New textures
New tastes

Everything is new.

I haven't yet been able to wrap my mind around the fact that I am actually here.  I can remember years ago wishing and hoping and praying I would one day get to go.  One day I would get to live in Africa.  Well the one day has come and I'm still pinching myself to see if it is real.

Oh, it's real.  The absolute change of cultures is real.  The "African dust" that people tried to explain to me, is real.  The heat... oh the heat, yeah it's real (and only just beginning)! But for me, for me the thing that is most real, are the people.

I have wanted to take so many pictures this week because some of the things I have seen I can't believe I'm seeing them.  But then I can't take the pictures and so I take a mental one.  As much as I want other people, people back in the states to see what I am seeing, I can't take the pictures.  These people are real.  The situations that are so odd and bizarre to me are their EVERY DAY lives.

The poverty I see that rips at my heart, is their everyday life.
The crazy traffic that makes no sense to me, is their normal.
The injustice and corruption that is so blatant, is their reality.

As I take in all these new things and try to find some understanding to their realities I am left grappling with my own.  My reality is different now.  I find myself at the end of the day having to sift through my heart and try to decipher if what I am feeling is from what I have seen that day or the piece of my heart that is missing.

I can't believe how many times I have wanted to get on skype to call Mom.  I have so many things I want to share with her.  I have so many decorating questions and cool things I want to share with her.  I want to tell her about the dust and how appalled she would be by it.  I want to show her all my pictures.  I want her to see that I made it here... 14 years of bugging her with this crazy dream.  Oh, how I would love to talk to her and see her face.  I miss her smile.  I miss her voice.  I miss her.

But in all of this I find my comfort and hope and peace in knowing that the only reality that is true and lasting is a life rooted and grounded in Christ.  The Lord has been faithful and will always be faithful to get me through whatever comes my way.

One week down.  A lifetime to go. :-)    

in the beginning

Oh the complexities of this place, this beautiful continent, this wonderful country, this amazing city that is now my home.

In the two days I have been in Bamako I have so many thoughts and feelings going through my head and heart.  It has been everything I expected and absolutely nothing I expected.  So, my first 2 days here have taught me to throw away every expectation.  I have a feeling having expectations here will be quick death to my soul.

This is not a bad thing.  I think it is a God thing. 

I had a thought before coming to Mali that once I got here I would know what I am supposed to do.  While I do believe that with time God will show me what His plans are for me, I also believe now I may never know exactly anything.  I mean come on... I can barely communicate with the vast majority of people!!!  

This place is complicated yet simple.  I am complicated and desire to become simple.

This week will be filled with orientation to the team, to the city, to the field.  Meeting people and getting to know this place I now call home.  I am excited!  I am nervous!  I have a feeling this week will be a bit overwhelming but when is moving to another country, entering a new culture, and trying to speak a new language not overwhelming!?!? 

As I sit here in my little temporary apartment, listening to people speaking French and Bambara outside my window, brushing dust off my computer for the 100th time I still can't believe I am here.  So often in life dreams don't come true.  I know so many people who live their whole lives dreaming of things that never come to fruition.  God planted a [seemingly wild and crazy] dream in my heart at a young age... not only did He plant it, He continued to water it for years.  He never let the dream die!  Even when it seemed impossible, He did not let the little seed die within me.

I am living my dream.  And this dream scares me like crazy!  But I couldn't imagine not living it out!

Forget everything I have told you up till this point... I knew nothing and you know what... it's ok!  Here's to a journey of learning and mistake making and growing and stretching and attempting to follow Christ with grace and love :)    

God is bigger...

Nights have been hard for me.  Most days I can hold it together but then at night I tend to crumble.  The last few nights I have begun to feel the weight of the coming days.  In just 4 days I will move.  This is it, the BIG move.

Last night as I laid in bed trying to sleep, my mind racing, my heart racing, my stomach in knots, I couldn't do anything but cry out to the Lord.

Just when I think the tears have dried up they pour out again.  Just when I think I am all alone, Holy Spirit comes closer.  Just when I think I CAN NOT do this, my God whispers, no you can't but I can and I will!

There are times when I think the anxiety will eat me alive.  But God is so good.  I have recently began doing some inner healing with a local ministry and let me tell you... there is power in the words we speak!  I am someone who struggles to believe the truth of God for my life.  I believe truth for others - who they are in Christ, their identity, that they are loved - but I have a really hard time allowing myself to believe it in me.  But that is breaking off.  Praise God!

So last night as the waves of anxiety began to grow and gain speed, getting ready to take me out... I spoke out, truth.  I declared God's truths over my emotions, over my life.  I declared God's leadership in my life and that I trust Him and asked Him to help my unbelief.

He did.

He came close.

He stopped that waves in their tracks.

Anxiety got taken out but I didn't.

I fell asleep last night with so much peace.  Wrapped in the Lord's arms, close to His heart and safe in His warm embrace.

There is so much freedom for me when I speak out what I am feeling and give it to the Lord.  No matter how small, trivial, dark, secret... nothing shocks Him so why hold back?!  I am learning how much satan loves to screw with our emotions.  But he doesn't have the right to do that!  Emotions are not bad, they were given to us from God.  God is emotional.  When He fashioned and formed us, He made emotions a part of our being.  He just never meant for them to rule us - that is His place.