i’m not normally one to write an obligatory “it’s a new year!” reflection piece. but since i’m back in the writing game, and because i have had ample time and space for reflection on the absurdities of the last few years of my life, i’ve gathered some words to share.

about a year ago i had just lost my new job. in fact, on new years day last year my sister and i opened up our “jar of blessings” from the year and the irony of seeing a card that read “grace got the job!” gave us a pretty hearty laugh. i had spent time last december feeling lost, confused, misguided, hurt and angry. but that only lasted a few days. i remember very clearly the peace that came over me a few days after i got the news. i had no idea what i was going to do in the coming weeks, but i wasn’t worried. not even one bit. which is a far cry to how i would have felt even 3 years ago. i just praise God for what He had done in my life those 3 years to show me how to trust Him, because if i hadn’t lived those years of heartbreak, loss, surrender, change and uneasiness, i know this speed bump could have caused a wreck in me.

but instead, this speed bump started me off on a different road. and as i look back at the road i’ve traveled this year, i can’t help but feel joyful, thankful, refreshed, renewed and blessed. it was one of the toughest years as far as personal growth, and i’m so thankful for that! but what i am most grateful for are the people God brought into and out of my life this year. He never ceased to amaze me with the love and guidance He gave me every step i took this year.

those steps took me into schools all over frederick county where i taught elementary, middle and high school students of various backgrounds, cultures, ethnicities, economic status and aptitude. i opened up more juice boxes, applesauce and gogurt pouches (which i have an extreme aversion to) than i can count or even care to remember. i had chalk, crayons, toys, pencils and various small items thrown at me and successfully fooled middle schoolers into thinking i knew exactly what i was teaching them by memorizing lesson plans and speaking with authority. i traveled around the county teaching primarily special needs students and learning so much about people, humanity, and family along the way.

for a month, those steps took me into a classroom of 7 boys with autism who i loved immediately, who challenged everything i knew about education, and whose names are now written on my heart.

those steps took me to an inner-city high school with the challenge to get a suspended liberian-american senior with failing grades caught up in 3 weeks so he could get his diploma.

those steps took me into public classrooms where students, natively from all over africa, asked me about Jesus.

if God had just brought those people into my life this year, dayenu (it would have been sufficient.) but He didn’t stop there.

His steps led me around the corner from my house to spend 8 weeks teaching, disciplining, loving, feeding, hugging, bandaging, encouraging and caring for 35 precious children, each with a strong personality, separate life struggle and a distinct need to feel loved. and it was the most draining, most rewarding 8 weeks my little heart has ever lived through.

if God had stopped there, dayenu.

but those steps also led me to months of spending time with my tiny best friend, watching her grow and learn how to use utensils, how to play with other kids, how to fall, cry and get back up, how to pronounce letters correctly and how to tumble around a gym, how to make believe and how to pick up her toys. i am sure she taught me more in 2 months than i taught her.

if God had stopped there, dayenu.

but His steps also led me to months of quality time with my youth students, filled with challenges, celebrations, tough truths, sadness,  joy, laughter, learning and more hugs and love than i deserve.

dayenu.

and still….

a year ago God gave me a journey to africa. He called, He paved the way, He supplied my every need, He blessed my journey.

and He allowed me to come back.

and i spent the last half of 2014 being taught and re-taught how to love like God loves. how to rest and be still in Him. i’ve spent my time learning how to do bush medicine, how to speak 3 new languages, how to ride a bicycle in a skirt, by the way I found the best range of ladies bikes at ecosmobike.com, are so comfortable, how to make nigerien kids warm up to a strange white lady, how to discipline kids with limited vocabulary, how to make nigerien food, how to make art and create using trash and used cans. i’ve spent my time with kids, snuggling, dancing, listening to and getting peed on. i’ve spent my time surrendering and sacrificing and wondering if i’m doing enough.

in this season where God could have just brought me to another country for a “missions trip,” He instead gave me a fresh start, new eyes and new understanding and appreciation. He instead warmed up my icy heart and reminded me of who i am and what He made me to do. He has reminded me of how He asks me to love others- the way Christ loves me. He has reminded me that i don’t get to use heartbreak or fear or bitterness as an excuse to be a shut-in. He has reminded me that my joy comes from Him, and His joy is complete. He has reminded me that His faithfulness is never changing, never wavering, and that i can trust it always.

and looking back at this year, i don’t know how i could convince myself otherwise. He has given abundantly to me.

a year ago i wouldn’t have said i was thankful for losing my job, but i would have said (and did), “i trust the plan God has for me.”

today, i am so grateful for God’s providence, His sovereignty, His knowledge of me and love for me that far surpasses any of my understanding.

today i am thankful for what God did in my life and what He continues to do, even if i don’t know my next steps. looking back, i see where following his leading has taken me, and i am ready to keep walking.

(hillsong- oceans)

before i came to niger, april and i had a conversation about how much more real the Bible became to her by her living here. she talked about sheep and goats and how she now understood why Jesus used them in His parable about those who would be His followers and those who would not. we talked about cattle because when you see 2 cattle pulling a cart here, you get to really visualize what paul meant by telling us to be equally yoked. the cattle who are not always look very pained and struggle against one another. we talked about donkeys and walking through sand.

and i was excited to get here and to experience those same things for myself because i’m a huge fan of visual learning and i knew God would speak to me in that way here.

and then Christmas came.

and my supervisor asked if i wanted to spend Christmas in her village.

secretly, i had been hoping she would suggest that. because i couldn’t think of a better way to spend my Christmas in africa.

so we made plans to spend 2 nights in the village, sharing the story of Jesus’ birth wherever we went.

Christmas Eve came and in the morning we visited patients in a few neighboring villages. we told the story in two compounds and prayed with the families. we went to a third village and shared the story with a large group of people, and it was such a joy to watch their faces react in awe when they heard of the angels appearing to mary and joseph, and baby Jesus being born in the stables (which is not very different from where babies are born in the bush).

our last stop was the one to start the waterworks for this sensitive girl. i sat in a circle with believers from various villages in the area as members of the village gathered in the compound of a man who had been baptized a few weeks prior. in fact, a group of 6 men from this village has been baptized, so there was a level of expectancy with which they listened to the words the believers shared. though i don’t understand fulfulde, i recognize words, especially biblical ones, and as the story unfolded it brought tears to my eyes to hear the passion from the men who shared, as well as to see the intensity with which the group listened.

i was immediately brought back to my own introduction to the truth in the pages of the Word. i remember the days when i would devour the Scriptures in search of Jesus and His character. i remembered sitting in my dorm rooms in college with the $5 NIV bible i bought, size 10 print, and a highlighter and pen, marking and writing and bolding and commenting. and i remembered the feeling of newness and awe and peace and excitement.

i felt it in my heart and i sensed it in the presence of these men. they were sitting on the edge of their chairs and mats, grasping at every word they heard. and i sat silently with tears rolling down my cheeks, thankful for the darkness that hid my emotions from the fulani friends who never show theirs. and as they finished retelling the story, the men continued to talk about what it means to be a brotherhood, the children of God through adoption. and my tears kept flowing. i’ll tell you why.

fulani culture operates historically through a caste system. it is still very ingrained in their prejudice and way of life, though there are no current inherent rights or privileges enacted on the slave class by the noble class. however, intermarriage is highly unlikely and the impact of years of class distinction hinders relationships between the two.

this Christmas Eve, a mixture of slave class and noble class, new believers and discipled leaders, fulani, gorma, southern and northern americans gathered together and shared fellowship in a slave class village. the men talked about building each other up and supporting each other as they press on to endure in their new faith. they thanked and prayed for our teammate who had lived among them for 3 months and had shared the truth of Christ with them. so tears rolled down my face as i witnessed this body of believers breaking down ancient historic boundaries and prejudice to celebrate the birth of our Savior. and it was beautiful and the purist sense of joy i have felt in a long time. we sang “the first noel” in english, under the starry sky for them and said our goodbyes.

we returned to our compound and had tea and cookies as we sang carols from the baptist hymnal by candlelight. and again the Bible became more and more vivid as we sang amidst shepherds settling in for the night in their fields with their flocks. and as the cattle lowed and the stars shone bright, the peace and joy of what that night meant and continues to mean rested sweetly in my spirit.

for the past few years i have been praying for a simple life. to de-clutter both figuratively and literally. and as we sat in the dark, in the middle of our mud-hut kitchen deep in the bush of southern niger, i thanked God for how He has provided me this season of simplicity and stillness. of pure faith that comes from both fresh beginnings and new places, and through the weathered pages of my well-traveled, life-stained Bible.

Christmas day was filled with singing and dancing and sharing of the Word with two village gatherings before we headed back to the city. and though i did miss my church and family back home, our traditional evening of carols and coffee and sweet fellowship, my heart was peaceful, because i knew that if cultural walls could be broken down to celebrate Jesus and commit to the brotherhood of believers, my heart continued to be tethered back home with the brotherhood there.  the birth of Christ. signifying God leaving all the Holiness and Glory of Heaven to be among His people. to grow and walk with them, to teach them and challenge them. to one day rescue them so that we can have adoption as sons and daughters. what a perfect reason to have peace. and simple joy.

(what child is this?)

…when You know i can’t love.

wow. today i just felt like i was the worst human ever for some reason. i actually don’t have a reason at all, i just felt like a monster part of the day and couldn’t even begin to tell you why.

so, now i have a short story that will show you how good and faithful God is and why i am so very thankful that He is sovereign and He is the only hope of goodness i have in me.

today at kids club #2 a little girl asked me what the spots on my arm were, pointing at my very numerous mosquito bites. i had to ask for the zarma word for mosquito because i had no clue. so, upon getting my answer, i told the girl (in zarma) that the mosquitoes really like to bite me. she said that was bad, and the conversation was over.

tonight, i walk outside to take pictures of the full moon and i see one of our guards, whom i see every night, and we exchange our normal pleasantries:

suuji: fofo (hello)!

hama: fofo, mate gaham (hello, how’s your self)?

suuji: samay dayno, mate goyo (i’m fine, how’s your work)?

now. normally he responds with “tali kulu si” which means, “there are no problems.” in fact, it is pretty much unheard of for you to have anything but a positive response, no matter how awful you may be. so, i expected him to proceed like routine and i would continue on my way. instead, he said this:

“tali go no. sooporo, i boobo. ni bey sooporo (there is a problem. the mosquitoes, there are many. you know mosquito (meaning, the word ‘sooporo’))?”

on any other day, i would have said, “no. i do not know. what does it mean?” and then he would begin the process of acting out the word so i would understand.

but today. today i said, “yes! i do know! do you have medicine?” (i meant bug spray, but he knew that)

and, in yet another moment of divine appointment, i remembered that the previous inhabitants of my home left a bottle of off:deep woods in the kitchen before they left.

so, today The Lord granted a time to understand and offered a gift to two people in their times of need.

hama got his bug spray and i got a reminder that my God is faithful in the little things. and remembering that has given me the gift of His promise that He is faithful in the big things.

and that’s something this monster needed to remember today.

(of monsters and men- love, love, love)

water.

i’ve been drinking water as my main daily beverage for a very long time. i am very conscious of how much water i drink every day. i’ve been known to carry a 32 oz water  bottle with me everywhere, every day. it’s not a habit i started to prepare for this season in Africa.  in college i did a lot of personal study on health and nutrition, and water was always main focus point for me. we’ve heard many times before that the human body is made up of 70% water and that we should be drinking at least eight 8-oz glasses of water per day to keep our bodies properly hydrated and functioning. i take that very seriously. in fact, it is a rare occasion that i drink anything other than coffee or water, and my preference is to have 12 oz of coffee and 128 oz of water daily.

(source)

nothing quenches my thirst like water. when i am hot, parched, have been working hard or just been running, i seriously enjoy a cold glass of water. i love the taste, which surprises many people who think water tastes like nothing.

but water does have taste. a lot of that taste depends on where you get your water. when i lived on the mountain, my water was pumped into my house from an underground, spring-fed well. mountain spring water tastes good. i used to work with a woman who would come to the mountain with empty gallon jugs and fill them with spring water. it was that good.

in the city, we filter our tap water. city water is treated in a plant somewhere that kills naturally occurring bacteria found in a lot of water sources. sometimes you can taste the chemicals used to treat city water. i like to swim in chlorinated pools, but don’t like to actively taste chlorine when i’m drinking a cold glass of water.

.  .  .

here in Niger, i’ve experienced a few different kinds of water. various villages and burroughs in the city. i’ve drank filtered well-water here at the mission compound, i’ve washed my hands in a sink of my friend’s across town. i’ve showered with the cool, sporadic trickle of the shower in dosso. i’ve drank tap water in restaurants and from a plastic bag of “pure water.” i’ve driven across the river and watched as people bathed or washed their crops at the river’s edge.

here, access to water is quite relative to status, wealth, and geography. we at the compound have the privilege of having had a well dug that operates much like that of the one i had on the mountain. the well is treated and pumps water into our buildings here, and it rarely fails. on the occasions that it does, we still have access to the city’s supply of water. we have enough water for cooking, bathing, watering the grass and plants, mixing cement, and washing dishes and clothes on a daily basis. i still fill up my 32-oz bottle 4-5 times a day from my filtered faucet. i have water whenever i need it.

across town, my friends rely on the city supply. which can sometimes be shut off without warning or reason. they keep large backup jugs of water just for those occasions. when the water works, it comes out of the faucet the color of weak English tea, but it surely doesn’t smell like it. most households with this kind of water also have filtration devices that are vital for those of us who are not acclimated to the bacterias found in the water here.

still, in other parts of the city that don’t have water lines run to them, you can find hand or foot pump wells that have been dug or built by NGO’s from around the world. households share these wells and because of the ease of use, even children can access them safely.

further out in the bush, things become quite different. entire villages might have 2-3 wells that serve 300-500 people. it’s at these wells where i have met some very strong women. they have the upper body and core strength of competitive athletes simply from spending their mornings hauling buckets of water 80 ft. from the bottom of the well. after they have collected all the water they need for their daily activities, the women help each other place their jugs, tubs, pots or buckets on top of their heads. they then proceed to walk upwards of 300 ft to their homes, babies strapped on their back and water atop their head.

.  .  .

water.

at home, i take it for granted. here, my eyes see too much that my heart can’t un-see.

i’ve decided i want to tell you about water here. i want to show you what it looks like daily for these women. i want you to be able to share in a tiny bit of their experience. this is your introduction. over the next few days, i’ll be sharing pictures and stories of my time so far with the women at the well. i’ll share about what melanie has been discovering as she tests the water sources here for Ecoli and fecal coliform bacteria. i’ll be drawing comparisons of life here to Biblical stories taking place at the well. we’re just going to spend some time discovering what the LORD gave us when He gave us water and what it means in our lives.

Rivers of Living Water

	On the last day of the feast, the great day, Jesus stood up and cried out, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink.
 Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’”

(John 7:37-38 ESV)




 
(chris tomlin- all my fountains)