my response- almost 7 years.... their response - wooooow that is a loooooong time....
The many things that I have navigated through these years I have blogged about- at least 366 of them. Amazingly these things are normal now! We have been enriched immensely through these last years living in Africa. Whether it's hard or easy- we are growing and being transformed daily through His story in our lives. Here are some pictures of the new things!
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| Yes I have learned to play NetBall. Never even heard of that game until here |
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| Analisey's class- as she rattles of the names of her classemates, Reuban, Thandizo, Lindwe, VanDel, Mtanda, Hun, Lindwe, Salha, Jade, David, Lin, Lauren, Hannah, Thumbiko, Ethan and Shingi, Numan, Alex and Adam! |
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| Who knew that I would fall in love with Indian food! |
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| Luka would love waiting for minibuses |
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| Food on the side of the road is eatable |
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| learn to drive with people, cars, goats, bicycles and lots of people would be normal |
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| Learn to read this sign |
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| More People and Lots more food. |
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| Learn to live behind walls and razor wire |
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| This is sadly a normal sight. People People People! |
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| Learn to eat in the dark and be fine with it ( for a little while at least) |
These last bits of info are blogs that have been true to life for me here. Whether it is a sad statements or funny - I see this as my stories too!
CONFESSIONS OF A MISSIONARY
Some days I hate my life.
Africa life is not all it’s cracked up to be.
Sometimes I don’t want to hop out of bed and embrace the day.
The language barrier is freaking hard.
Being hit on by grown men just because I’m white gets obnoxious.
Bucket showers get old.
Africa life is not all it’s cracked up to be.
Sometimes I don’t want to hop out of bed and embrace the day.
The language barrier is freaking hard.
Being hit on by grown men just because I’m white gets obnoxious.
Bucket showers get old.
Walking miles and miles to get to a house that doesn’t even want to hear the name of Jesus is exhausting.
Washing all my clothes by hand makes me want to get on the first plane back to America and push “start” on my washing machine.
Putting on a skirt every single morning makes me miss my skinnies and converse.
Getting internet once a week at a cafe makes me miss constant wifi.
Carbs for every meal makes me want a huge fresh salad from Jason’s deli.
Putting on a skirt every single morning makes me miss my skinnies and converse.
Getting internet once a week at a cafe makes me miss constant wifi.
Carbs for every meal makes me want a huge fresh salad from Jason’s deli.
Sitting through 4 hour church services not having a clue what’s going on makes me want to get back home and go to a service that is no longer than 1 hour.
Throwing up outback because my stomach can’t handle it makes me want to curl in a cozy bed at home.
Seeing people dying of AIDS on a daily basis makes me weep.
Picking up infants on the side of the road makes me want to pack them all up on a plane and rescue them from this god forsaken place.
The teenage girl with a baby strapped to her back from the random man who seduced her for a night makes a righteous anger rise within me.
Seeing people dying of AIDS on a daily basis makes me weep.
Picking up infants on the side of the road makes me want to pack them all up on a plane and rescue them from this god forsaken place.
The teenage girl with a baby strapped to her back from the random man who seduced her for a night makes a righteous anger rise within me.
Hearing lies from the king saying that if you have sex with a virgin your AIDS will go away makes me want to scream from rooftops.
I find myself wanting to hop back on a plane just so I won’t have to see all of this…
I easily want to forget the crazy life He has called me to.
I easily want to forget the crazy life He has called me to.
Being a “Missionary” isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
It’s easy to think that some people were created from birth to be called overseas…
Hell no.
There is no such thing as a cookie cutter missionary.
Missionary life (whatever that even means) is freaking hard.
Exhausting.
Borderline insane.
I could go on and on.
Hell no.
There is no such thing as a cookie cutter missionary.
Missionary life (whatever that even means) is freaking hard.
Exhausting.
Borderline insane.
I could go on and on.
It’s easy to sit at the local Starbucks and read “Radical” and want to do something…
but once you get to wherever that may be…
It’s freaking hard.
Part of me wishes someone else would’ve been called to such a life.
Part of me wishes I could live the typical American dream and be satisfied with it.
but once you get to wherever that may be…
It’s freaking hard.
Part of me wishes someone else would’ve been called to such a life.
Part of me wishes I could live the typical American dream and be satisfied with it.
But, it’s not true.
That’s not for me.
That’s not for me.
This is the life I’m called to.
It’s freaking hard…
but so worth it.
Every single day I have to choose to forget my flesh and listen to my spirit.
but so worth it.
Every single day I have to choose to forget my flesh and listen to my spirit.
My flesh says I’m an idiot for choosing such a life.
My spirit says I’ve never been so alive.
My spirit says I’ve never been so alive.
Because of this,
I submit my flesh to the Lord.
I beg Him to tame me…
I submit my flesh to the Lord.
I beg Him to tame me…
Give me strength when I see death everywhere I look.
Give me JOY as I walk for hours and wash my clothes in a bucket.
Give me patience when people don’t want to hear the name of Jesus.
Give me grace when all I want to do is get angry.
Give me love for the snot nosed babies.
Give me JOY as I walk for hours and wash my clothes in a bucket.
Give me patience when people don’t want to hear the name of Jesus.
Give me grace when all I want to do is get angry.
Give me love for the snot nosed babies.
Give me peace when I weep myself to sleep for such a broken country.
Give me wisdom when I have no idea what to do.
Give me your love for this place when I just want to run away.
Give me wisdom when I have no idea what to do.
Give me your love for this place when I just want to run away.
He is eager to answer my prayers…
He’s already answered a ton of them.
He’s already answered a ton of them.
Clearly the missionary life isn’t pretty…
But it’s so worth it.
He calls the hot messes…
the broken.
He doesn’t need saints to change the world…
Just willing spirits.
Sometimes those willing spirits have to be whipped into shape…
but he’s got it covered.
He calls the hot messes…
the broken.
He doesn’t need saints to change the world…
Just willing spirits.
Sometimes those willing spirits have to be whipped into shape…
but he’s got it covered.
Even when I don’t feel it, He is good and uses me.
by Jonathan
10. You’ll get to try new things, like typhoid fever and amoebas.
No worries. Even if you’re the most vaccinated person you know, you just might get sick. On the bright side, most of the time your illnesses will sound cool. And cool illnesses make people pray more.
But note: ulcers are not cool. If you get an ulcer, don’t tell anyone. Ulcers are too American.
Oh, and make sure your kids know how great all these new things are too. I was hanging out at an international high school once and overheard a kid say something about a student who was absent. He nonchalantly said, “Oh, he’s not here; he has an amoeba.” I wanted to grab the kid by the collar and say, “You know that’s not a normal sentence, right?”
9. Your kids will have friends from countries you didn’t know existed.
And they’ll speak like them too. Our little girl loves the story of the “Ten Leopards.” You know, the one where Jesus healed ten leopards, but only one came back to say “thank you”? Thank you, you wonderful world of missions, for giving our children such a linguistic advantage and wide worldview. A worldview in which Jesus cares so much about jungle animals, he sometimes heals ten at a time.
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8. Your driving skills will “improve.”
Lights on for safety, or lights off to keep the evil spirits from seeing you? Even at night? Or lights on during the day because you really were wanting to impersonate a VIP and get pulled over by the police?
I mean, who knew driving 20mph (or 32kph for those of you who don’t know how to measure stuff correctly) could be so exhilarating. And when the door falls off of your ancient Toyota, just hold on to it and keep moving. And sometimes, cars on the mission field actually get younger, with fewer miles on them than when they were imported. What a cool perk.
7. You’ll learn to be grateful for the little things, like cheese and toilet paper.
Despite YouTube tutorials aplenty, how exactly billions of people lived (and still live) without toilet paper remains a mystery. Be grateful, people.
Older missionaries in my part of the world remember when cheese came to town. Cheese and stop lights apparently arrived at the same time. So if you’re in a part of the world without cheese, extra points for you. And may I recommend you start praying for a stop light?
(I was going to include bacon in this section, but then I remembered we were talking about “the little things.”)
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6. Your bargaining skills will improve…with the police.
This becomes necessary if #4 doesn’t work. Life’s simpler here, really. The police don’t want to write you a ticket, and you don’t really want to pay a ticket. And everyone knows you didn’t really violate a law anyway. Some officers are harder than others, requiring rare delicacies from the West. One time, a pot-bellied officer demanded beer money. I offered Twizzlers. He pondered for a second and counter-offered with four fingers. I complied and drove off. In my rearview mirror I saw him and three buddies chowing down. Apparently, Twizzlers make mouths (and cops) happy.
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5. Your children will learn how to whine in multiple languages.
The ability to whine, out loud, in front of other people, without them knowing, is the gift of a lifetime. Just be sure to teach your kids to do a quick perimeter check for possible same-language listeners within earshot.
A hotel worker didn’t do a proper perimeter check once, and I clearly heard him complaining about some rude tourists, “Sure, why don’t they just go sunbathe by the pool. I hope a massive rock falls off the building and smashes their heads.” Oops. I made a mental note to self: speak extra nice to that employee.
Your new language will also allow your family to share bodily function jokes all throughout furlough. Very bonding, really. And if your kids aren’t learning the local language, may I at least suggest your family learns the words and/or euphemisms for passing gas. Especially if you have boys. Their childhood will be grossly enhanced.
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4. You’ll always be able to use the excuse, “I’m not from around here.”
When you need to explain why your family wears clothes, or why you don’t really care much for fried spiders or bony duck embryos, simply state “I’m not from around here.”
Really though, this one’s most useful during furlough. Can’t figure out the ATM? or the drive through? or Wal-Mart? Just smile, mumble something in another language about massive rocks smashing things, and say “I’m not from around here.” But don’t forget your perimeter check.
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3. Fashion rules will no longer apply.
You ever seen a missionary? Yeah.
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2. You’ll get to report to hundreds of people, every month, details about your work, your family, and how you spend your money.
Who needs Dave Ramsey when you have the entire deacon board of multiple churches analyzing your finances? It’s accountability on huge quantities of steroids.
They may ask why you need so much, or why you have to pay for your kids’ education, or why you save for retirement, but at the end of the day, they are paying you to do this thing we call missions. It’s an honor to serve, even when the reports are due, the power’s out, it’s hot season, the spreadsheet’s rebelling, and you can’t figure out how to get that docx into a pdf into an html into a mobile-friendly, print-friendly, e-mail-friendly format. But hey, at least you don’t have to use envelopes.
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1. You’ll get to experience the raw joy of crossing language barriers, cultural barriers, time zones and comfort zones, simply to invite someone to follow Jesus.
Maybe you preach the gospel straight up, street-corner style. Maybe you serve the sickest and the poorest, touching the folks no one else wants to touch. Maybe you teach English or a vocation, aiming to empower. Maybe you do a thousand things for economies or community health or justice. But there is one Love that draws us together and pushes us out the door. Every day.
His name is Jesus, and at the end of the day, He is worth.it.all.
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