trusting

Into your hands, I commit my spirit.
-Luke 23:46

Learning how to TRUST today.
Apart from feelings, fears, chaos, confusion, HE remains constant.

He

I love because Christ loves me.
My move to Zambia in June isn't terrifying because the Lord will never leave me.
I will serve Zambian women because Christ has shown me how to serve through His life.
I'm obedient to His call because He loves me.
I understand hope because God has given me hope through the death & life of Jesus.
I choose to volunteer my life because God has shown me that my riches can only be found in Him.
I am, not for myself, but because I am His.
I'm not great. I'm sinful yet God has chosen me and lavished me with grace from the cross of Christ.
I choose Christ, but He chose me first.
I live for an audience of one.
I am not Clothed in Hope. I am Christ's. And Clothed in Hope is His.
He is everything.
He is love.
He is the ultimate servant.
He is hope.
He has chosen us.
He has died for us.
He pours out grace.
He equips and speaks.
He is life, abundant life.

sovereign

One year ago today I was confused, I was hurting, I was broken for the women and children of Zambia. I woke up each morning thinking about them, praying for them, desperately seeking God in a tender time in my life. I just prayed over and over that He would reveal His reasons with me, that He would carry me to a new place.

Today I sit writing this, amazed. In awe. At a loss for words. My God is sovereign, He's all-knowing, His timing is right. His promises are true. Just as He spoke Hebrews 10:23 into my heart so many times, I can look back today and know that His plan was better. Romans 8:28 isn't just a cliche verse but instead a glorious display of God's grace for us through Christ, His love for us, and that His intentions are ONLY good.

I look around this sewing room and see 6 garments hanging. 6 garments I designed and created for a fashion show on Sunday with all proceeds going directly to Clothed in Hope. This by itself is a miracle but I look to those 6 hangers and just see God's faithfulness to my heart. I'm not deserving, I'm not worthy of this. But rather God loves me, and is entrusting me to care for His children, the widows, the orphans of Zambia. And He's equipping me with every skill I need for this journey. Many times I get caught up in "how" when it comes to a difficulty but then I just look back to see HOW God has made a way!

He receives all the glory. It's all His.

hard

It's hard. It's extremely hard to receive news that Ng'ombe is out of water, that the people I think about and pray for daily are thirsty. The situation is life-threatening. It's not just a power outage or a flat tire. It's a water outage. The substance that provides and sustains life. My heart shatters when I think about the little ones so thirsty, walking miles to try to find a place to fill up their water cans, skipping school to do so. My heart aches for the women who are facing the reality of the situation, trying to keep hope alive in their families. Maybe this doesn't really resonate with many people. But try thinking of this being your family. Because it's mine. And it's God's.

I just received this text from my dear friend, Elina, this morning: "Ng'ombe is out of water and to make matters worse, the borehole is not working today. they need to repair it. i don't know when."

The desperation, the pain, the helplessness. I'm not there and I haven't lived through it so I can't pretend to know how it feels. But God has given me a compassionate heart for these people. When they hurt, I hurt. But most importantly- when they hurt, He hurts.

In a situation like this, all I can do is pray. There is no solution except for God.

Will you take a moment to just pray?

undeserving

Driving back from visiting a friend at UF yesterday, my mind had it's fair share of wandering throughout the 6 hour journey alone, with a broken iPod and an exhausted bunch of CD's. As I looked around I flashed back to 4 short months ago living in Ghana and visiting Zambia for a short while too. The differences are incredible. I've become numb to many of them (although passengers probably won't say the same from my overly-defensive driving at times due to the one-too-many accidents I was in this summer). Here's just a snapshot of differences that I can't quite get over yet:

1. Rather than dodging goats, people, cows, children, etc. my peripheral only has to focus on a stray deer or turkey on the side of the highway.
2. The personal space during travel is insane. I get a whole car to myself?! Far too different from sitting on stranger's laps in order for the minibus drivers to make a few extra cents.
3. I don't have to go into panic-mode at police checkpoints, fearing their corruption. This is huge.
4. Though personal space is a plus, it's impossible for me to travel on a 6 hour trip on just $10. But that's the price I pay for not having to change busses/cars over 5 times.
5. I get to pull of the highway, drive through and get a hot meal in a matter of minutes, free of worry about the condition of the food. I'm learning how to trust food again, after learning that the kebobs sold on the side of the road aren't beef or pork but are actually dog or some version of road kill. That'll make you lose your appetite.

These are all blessings. Things we overlook or take advantage of. Things I take for granted so many times. But what makes me different from an African besides where I was born and what family I was born into? Nothing. I'm completely undeserving of any blessing. I'm sinful and I'm broken. But still God chooses to lavish me with grace through no other means than Christ. Let's open our eyes to grace today. Let's cultivate thankful hearts.

jeremiah

Google "Jeremiah" and it'll try to guess which verse you want. And it'll guess that you're looking for Jeremiah 29:11.
{For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.}
Doesn't this say something about our culture as Westerners? The verse it guesses for us in Google is one of stability, long-term planning, addressing the issue of control. It's not wrong. It's pretty spot-on actually. Being back in America, I fall into this long-term thinking, worrying about the future rather than looking to what God wants for me today. It's so easy to get wrapped up in planning the future that I so often fail to let God plan my day.

When in Ghana, a Ghanaian and I were talking about the Bible and our favorite verses. He started the conversation with "Jeremiah..." and before he could finish I shouted out "29:11 right?!" He was confused and just let out a simple "no, it's not." He opened a Bible on an end table and read Jeremiah 33:3. {Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.}

Do I live in this sort of desperation? When everything is seemingly provided for me, or when I think that I provide for myself, how can my heart be calling out to Jesus? Africans have to live in this day-to-day uncertainty, clinging to a side of God that we rarely get to witness here in America due to our cluttered and overwhelming lifestyles. The God who provides, protects, answers, draws close, the God who LOVES.

Today, I pray for a desperate soul, one that cries to Jesus daily, one that stops looking months ahead and instead just looks up.

mine

On Saturday I was blessed to be a part of a most beautiful day. The wedding of one of my best friends, one 7 years in the making. High school sweethearts, David and Morgan were wed in the presence of friends and family on a gorgeous fall day on Lake Lanier. Beyond blessed, I stood to her left as a bridesmaid but was unprepared for the emotions that would flow over me within a matter of minutes. Watching Morgan walk down the steps, down the aisle, to her husband-to-be was incredible. But somehow I just couldn't get my eyes off of David. His huge smile with choked back tears, his nervousness and excitement, his reaction to seeing his bride take each step closer to a lifetime with him was breathtaking. As the pastor began with a short sermon, readings, and vows, my eyes were glued to David. I couldn't see Morgan's expressions or reactions since her back was to us, so instead I saw the entire wedding through David's eyes. I saw him wipe away tears of joy. I saw his humble smile. I saw his comforting hold on Morgan. I saw him light up as Morgan repeated the vows to him. I stood there amazed. This man loves her more than I can imagine. This man has waited for this day for seven years! This man was unashamed of his love for her and couldn't fight back the flood of emotions inside his heart. Nothing else in the world mattered. He was holding his bride and she was his. His bride loved him back with her whole heart and they were united to begin a lifetime together. This was an awe-inspiring moment that I can't even begin to describe.

I've seen my fair share of weddings as a TV wedding addict but never have I felt MY heart swell up like this one. Usually I sit on my couch just daydreaming of that special day but this moment was different than all others. Instead of reaching for this dream or even just experiencing joy with David and Morgan, my heart rejoiced. I have my own David. I have this man who loves me with his whole heart and is unashamed. I have this man who looks at me with sincerity, love, devotion, passion, kindness, and humility every second of the day. When I looked at David's eyes staring deeply into Morgan's, it all hit me. Jesus whispered to my heart, "YOU are MINE." Just as Morgan said an enthusiastic "yes!" after David's proposal over a year ago, I said YES when I realized the depths of Christ's love for me. But this love is one that will never be topped. David's inspiring passion for Morgan is just a glimpse of what Christ feels for ME and for YOU. Jesus sacrificed Himself for me, taking away all barriers, all hindrances, all darkness, in hopes that I would should out "YES" at His proposal. When I did, I entered into what has become the most beautiful relationship. Except that this one is never lacking. Sure I fall short, I yell at Him when I feel like things are unfair. But His love remains constant. He doesn't get frustrated back. He doesn't raise His voice. He doesn't give me the cold shoulder. He doesn't ever love me less than He did on that day that He gave everything for me. My groom is mine. And I am His. His gaze is forever on my heart. And as His bride, my heart's only response is to love. When my eyes meet His, and I see just how crazy He is for me, and how could it be anything else?! This man pursued me, this perfect man, God, and He fought for my heart. Now I get to spend a lifetime of loving Him and being loved perfectly in return. This tops even the greatest chick-flick.

On the day that Morgan walked up to her groom, I was graced with the ability to look deeper than ever into the eyes of mine, Christ.

The King is enthralled by your beauty; honor Him for He is your Lord.
Psalm 45:11

bittersweet

This weekend was amazing, definitely one for the books. One of my best friends, Morgan, is getting married in two short weeks and we were able to celebrate that with her this weekend at her fiancé's lake house. The bachelorette weekend, complete with too many laughs and sunburned noses, brought so much joy to my heart. The other bridesmaids are incredible women, and we formed unforgettable bonds over tubing, chips & queso, afternoon football, and silly games. With every smile, every laugh my heart warmed and grew. Driving along the highway for a last minute grocery trip before dinner, I had to just pause, thinking this is incredible. This sunset is incredible. Incredible, unbelievable, un-able to be believed. I couldn't believe that just as quickly as we all became so close we'd be saying goodbye after the wedding and it'd all be over. I couldn't believe that this could be one of my last bachelorette parties for a while, if ever. I couldn't believe that I was letting my mind race to the future rather than being in awe of the present. I love Africa. I love Zambia. I love Elina & the kids. I love Ng'ombe. I love nshima (for now). But I can't help but tighten up a bit and crawl into my little hole when I think about a few months from now in contrast to the present. These beautiful women will be thousands of miles away, laughter will only be heard via Skype (praise Jesus for it though!), chips & queso can only be the result of a new visitor or leftovers smuggled in from the move, and a sunburned nose will be all too common. As I celebrate the wonderful marriage of two great friends, seven years in the making, so beautifully reflecting the Gospel of Christ, I will ask God to help me to celebrate today. Cherish what He's given me today. Be grateful for today's blessings. Love God for who He is today. Love life for what it is today. For today is all we're promised.

I don't always understand where these feelings come from, or if they're any good at all. I can't wrap my mind around why I'm facing this dissonance between joy of home in Africa and the feeling that I'll be missing out on so much- bachelorette parties, first jobs, weddings, babies, new friends, the never-ending list of a life in transition. But I think that's okay. I'm human. Praise God that He's not.

Isaiah 40:28 Have you not known? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable.

missing

It's been over 2 months since I've seen these precious people, my Zambian family, but every time I look at this picture on my bedside table it feels like just yesterday. As I continue to live my life here in Columbia, filled with spontaneous hiking trips, road trips just to find a Cookout, movie nights with best friends, home cooked dinners with new friends, my new family lives life in Ng'ombe with the same food everyday facing the same struggles of financial uncertainty and illness. I'm so grateful that the joy of Christ connects us but I can't help but be reminded of the distance between us and the hardships they face on a daily basis. Will you pray for them with me? Will you ask God to provide and protect them, to bring them closer to His love?

be

I've been reading this really dorky book about returning to America after spending time overseas, especially in regards to living in impoverished areas and such and came across this passage. It's just one of many that I feel like were written from the depths of my heart.

"Another prominent feature of reverse culture shock is the feeling, perhaps the reality, of having to start over. As described in chapter 1, nothing is really familiar during this period: not the people, not the places, not the way of life. Very little comes naturally to you and virtually nothing is routine. Everything you do- from emptying the garbage to driving to the supermarket to sending a fax- requires your close, conscious attention. The mundane, the minutiae of everyday life, require so much of your energy and time that there is little left for anything else... On the physical/emotional level, being overwhelmed means you are tired much of the time (check) and may have little resistance to flus or colds (check); you may lose your appetite or indulge in binge eating (check); you may be irritable and find it hard to concentrate or relax (major check); you may have dramatic mood swings and fitful sleep (check). To be blunt, you're not much fun to be around (check?)"

Reading this was a slap in the face. But also a weight lifted. Sure it makes me sound like some lunatic but it's also freeing that the things I'm experiencing here back at school aren't super strange. They're part of the process. But also part of the process is to seek God, as is a part of every life process. I was SO ENCOURAGED by getting to go to my home church, Midtown Fellowship, last night for the first time since April. It's my home, it's my family, it's Jesus in my life. There the message crazily (or not so crazily) paralleled an excerpt of another book I've been reading, Come Away My Beloved. God doesn't want us to be overwhelmed, no matter if we use adjusting as an excuse or not. He just wants us to be.

These excerpts are from the passage "From Center to Circumference"
"Lo, you seek revival. You do well; only do not seek it in the energy of the flesh. For the flesh is intent upon its own interests; yes, it lusts after those things that perish with the using. I would have you seek Me in Spirit; then I will come down upon you in all My fullness and will hold back nothing of all that I desire to do for you. For My ways are hidden from those who seek Me in the energy of the flesh. I am in you, yes, for this very purpose above all other purposes, have I taken up My abode WITHIN you; that My Spirit might be diffused through your spirit, and that we might be one even as I am one with the Father.
I in you, and you in Me, that we might be unified in thought and in action: in devotion and in purpose, that we might move continually not as two, but as ONE.
I ask you not to do but to BE.

For I do not intend to strip you of earthly ties and joys, but I long to have you give Me the center of your life that My blessing may flow out to the circumference. For My Spirit moves not from the circumference to the center, but from the center to the circumference."

bless

Rewind to Friday afternoon. Class is out. Rush is about to start. I had to pick up some nail polishes for recruitment so I figured I'd just stop by a dollar store on the way to the sorority house. I was wearing my nice white sundress (only worn one other time for rush sophomore year), gold sandals, pearls, hair and makeup done perfectly, freshly showered and looking my very best. I pulled into the parking lot with my air-conditioned car just running through the motions of a quick errand, unaware of what was just about to hit me.

I quickly grabbed a basket and piled up the $1 nail polishes and hurried to the register. I placed my basket on the counter and waited at the register for the man before me to finish. Something made me stop in my tracks. Surrounded by sorority women, college life, beautiful houses in my neighborhood, I had almost stopped believing poverty was an issue in Columbia. Compared to Africa things are beyond perfect. Except that this belief soon came crashing down. The man in front of me in line was wearing torn up shoes, dirty gym shorts and a soiled t-shirt. He appeared "normal" like a husband who just finished with yard work. But his smell, his demeanor suggested otherwise. With nine cans of tuna fish on the conveyor belt, it hit me that this man could be homeless. He could only afford cans of tuna but then I saw that he couldn't even afford that. With one swipe of the debit card, the man still owed $1.30. Outraged and embarrassed, the man started yelling "what do you mean it's not enough? it's just food! it's just food!" The man didn't even have enough money to buy himself nine cans of tuna. In that moment the world froze, and what the cashier did next makes me believe I looked into the very eyes of Jesus at the Dollar Tree. The cashier looked at the man, paused, then simply said, "it's my fault, you're fine. I got it." There obviously wasn't a mistake. But the cashier opened his own wallet, took out his last dollar bill and gathered up some change and put it in the cash register. Just like that, the ordeal was over and the man left with his cans. Disgusted, sick to the stomach, hating myself, I stepped up next in line, paid for my 20 nail polishes and left.

I prayed for a broken heart for people in America, to be exposed to American poverty, and before I could even see it coming it had slapped me across the face. I felt like I had to do something, to fix it. I jumped in the car and found the man walking along side of the road. I pulled over in a parking lot and with my too-expensive wallet I was going to give it all to this man. I wanted him to eat, to sleep safely, to be cared for. I rolled down my window and held it all out but he just looked around franticly, not all there, and hurried away. I couldn't help this man. My chest tightened with tears welling up out of no where, and I lost it. I looked up and no joke, saw the billboard drawing awareness to the American hunger problem. Hello. Prayers answered. Done right? Not one bit. My meltdown just melted even more when my mind started racing. Why God? Why am I driving this car? Why does he have to walk? Why don't I eat tuna for every meal? Why am I driving to a mansion to invite other girls to our mansion? Why did I just pay for nail polish out of my too-expensive wallet? Why do I have so MUCH? It's not fair. In that moment I wanted to pack up everything, sell it all and just get out of here. I considered buying a tent and just living in that to go to school. I was done. I was disgusted with American consumerism, and how I felt like I was just drinking the kool aid.

In that moment, God said "Stop it Amy. Get a grip. Can't you see? It's what I've been trying to show you all along. I'm in control. I have a plan. That man with the tuna, I love him. That man at the register, I love him. And you, I love you. For the man with the tuna and the Dollar Tree man, I provide for them. And you, I've blessed you to bless. Give freely. Be my hands and feet." In that moment of anger and confusion with myself, God brought clarity. Peace in understanding.

"From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked." Luke 12:48

If you have a job, it's so that you can bless your boss by working diligently and contributing to the success of the company.
If you get to go to college, it's so that you can be a blessing to your professors, attending class and showing them respect.
If you have a family, it's so that you can love them how Christ loves us, encouraging them and walking in life with them.
If you have a Bible, it's so that you can spend time in the Word of God, learning about Him and growing in deeper relationship with the God of the Universe, falling more in love with Jesus Christ who sacrificed Himself for all mankind.
If you know Christ, it's so that you can spread His hope and His love to all people of all nations that rescues them from eternal hell and sets them free as children of God to love Him.

If you can read this, you have been blessed to bless.

fear

If you haven’t already picked up on this, I believe in being real. I struggle with it sometimes but it’s through my writing that I can really spill it all out. It’s my heart’s prayer that I can allow God to work in every part of my life so that this barrier will be torn down to allow every part of my life to be vulnerable, not just in writing.

This morning, I was honestly looking of a way out of sitting down for a “quiet time” which is just my way of learning about God and His Son through the Bible. I felt pressed with my to-do list, weighed down in stress of all that has to be done. I’ve wanted to write this very blog for quite some time now but this morning isn’t the morning I would’ve ever pegged for the whole let’s be open and gushy kinda thing. So I thought I was taking the “easy” way out by just opening iTunes to listen to a podcast from my church, Midtown. I’d eat my breakfast, listen in, and walk away from the day with some sort of accomplishment. As I write this it sounds ridiculous. But it’s really how my heart reflects my mind, and yes it’s gross. At the core of who I am, I sometimes believe that I will be able to earn God’s favor, that I’ll be able to impress Him into lavishing me with more grace. God’s proved that wrong so many times over but still, somehow, I believe it.

Maybe it’s because I believe that I have some sort of control over this life. I love a checked off to-do list. I love a sense of accomplishment and it’s when that’s tested that my life gets a little messy. Running Clothed in Hope, dealing with the realities of it all, I get stressed. I claim it as “anxiety” or “stress” or even tell people that “it’s hard” or “I’m afraid.” These words are common in our society, claiming these issues in a similar fashion like “I have blonde hair” or “I go to USC.” This is just a characteristic of who I am right? Extremely wrong. Couldn’t be more off from the weight of proclaiming these characteristics over my life. By allowing these titles to define my life, I am owning sin. I’m deliberately choosing myself over Christ. I’m harboring darkness in my life. Fear. Doubt. These both reflect a lack of trust in who God is, what He can do, and mostly for me, lacking in the realization of just how much God loves me regardless of who I am, what I’ve done or what I do, both good or bad. I recognize God’s power of my life when things get tough, crying out to Him when there’s really nothing else I can do about it. But lately God’s helped me to listen, hearing Him telling me there’s a different way. He wants me to take it to Him FIRST, to walk forward but with my hands tied behind my back. I won’t be able to do anything to prove that it’s me doing it. There’s no fooling myself now. God’s the only one directing my life, even with an overwhelming amount of sin destroying my heart. There’s no other explanation for it. Jesus died so that I can live. Not living for myself but God living through me.

I’ve had my fair share of breakdowns. Of temper tantrums with God. During a recent breakdown God said, “Stop. Speak to me. Tell me everything. Run into my arms. Let me speak words into your soul that will comfort every worry, that will defeat every fear. Even though you can’t put into words how you feel, I know. I always know. All your life you’ll have me, I promise you that. I’ll fight for you. I’ll always win.”

He’s telling me to return to my first love, Jesus. Instead of owning up to fear, I must choose to reject that sin in my life, bring it to light. In the light, no darkness can exist. When I’m trusting God, really trusting wholeheartedly, fear cannot be present. My life’s aim isn’t for an improved Christian life. It’s to know God and to love Him.

There’s only one healthy kind of fear. One that should define my life. Fear of God: knowing God is big enough to take care of everything, that we’re forever resting in His perfect love. Place fear where it should be, fear Him. He’s got it all. His love is enough.

sala

I hope to have some intense lessons-learned type of post up soon. But you can't put a timeline on processing over 2 months of life in Africa, especially when one week of that was returning to a place that God used to completely wreck your life. So until then, I'll share some long overdue stories...

Meet Sala :)
Sala is a Ghanaian employee for Global Mamas in charge of processing and preparing international shipments at the house. Out of her dedication to make a better life for herself, she diligently leaves her house every morning at 4:30 to catch 3 different buses/cars to get to the Accra office by 7. She works silently all day straight through lunch and rarely looks up for a break. I worked just feet from her everyday without really knowing her but still oddly curious at who this woman really was.

Everyone has a story. It's on you to find out what it is and just listen.

I thought her selfless dedication to the NGO was inspiring enough. But little did I know, there's much more to Sala than the eye can see. One day at the shop I decided to just ask. Vulnerable to rejection with the possibility of connection. Sala's eyes brightened at the very second I asked, overjoyed that someone not from Ghana would pay attention to her. This isn't me boasting righteousness; it's just one time that I decided to lay down my own pride and do what I could to love the one, as Jesus commands. Sala started off by telling me that she's adopted by a couple in London who have a huge heart for children. She's one of many adopted children by her parents. Instead of choosing to live in luxury in London with her new family, she chose to live in Ghana to dedicate her life to her people, to her home.

Rewind to 8 or so years ago. Sala began working at an orphanage in Accra, Ghana out of her love for children. She knew the work came with little pay, long hours, but the bonus was a full heart at the end of each day. She worked to educate the children, keeping them fed and happy. After a few months, she noticed something wasn't quite right. The money that came in to the orphanage wasn't transferring. Though hundreds, even thousands was spilling in, the children could barely get one meal a day. Tattered clothes and dirty faces broke Sala's heart. She was just an employee feeling helpless and confused. But she knew something just wasn't right. Sala, just one ordinary woman, took it upon herself to get to the bottom of the issue and fight on behalf of the starving children the orphanage was supposed to be protecting. After weeks and months of digging around, Sala discovered the problem. A devastatingly huge problem. The orphanage director was taking most all of the donations flowing into the facility and pocketed them. The director didn't care about the children suffering as a result of her greed.

Sala could've just turned a blind eye. She could've succumbed to her helplessness. But she took a leap and risked it all. Sala went to the already-corrupted governmental officials to officially report the crime. Months passed with no answer, no justice. Sala was fired immediately after her filed report. It appeared the director had gotten away with it all. Sala said she didn't feel defeated because she knew she did all she could for the children. After 8 years of dedication to loving each child in the orphanage, Sala was unemployed and hurt. It was then that Sala began working for Global Mamas as she was in desperate need of a steady income. Almost a year after starting her position at Global Mamas, Sala was informed of some incredibly exciting news. The police caught up with the orphanage director, arrested her, and shut down the corrupt operations of the orphanage. Children were split into smaller groups and placed in loving orphanages and homes across Ghana. Sala kept in touch with her sweet children and never gave up on bringing justice to those without a voice.

If the story ended here, I would still rejoice over her persistence to see justice brought to these children, desiring a better life for them. But this woman, just one woman, let love shine even brighter. She currently works a full work week with Global Mamas but uses her weekends to visit groups of children that were split up after the dissolution of the orphanage. Sala devotes her life to loving these children and doesn't need a salary to do so. This is sacrifice. This is LOVE. The one day she shared this story with me, she had just returned from one boy's birthday party over 5 hours away who had recently been adopted by a Ghanaian couple. 10 hours of travel for one boy. Inspiring, touching yet challenging to my heart.

What will you do to defend those who can't defend themselves?

Learn to do right! Seek justice, encourage the oppressed. Defend the cause of the fatherless, plead the case of the widow.
Isaiah 1:17

harder

Life in America is harder for me than life in Africa.

It's tough being back. It's tough looking around and seeing the disconnect between how the Bible says to live and how we actually live. And it's hard to not fall into the trap of living in this blinding American materialism just like most everyone else. God COMMANDS us to look after the poor and needy, an active command to DO SOMETHING. But how do you help people here that have everything and more? In Africa you pray for God to provide people with water, with a next meal, praying against fatal disease and illness. In America in 2009, 99% of children made it through each day without skipping a meal. 99.6% of America's poor owns a refrigerator and 78% have air conditioning. It's hard for me to be America-minded with these statistics. Is it wrong to be Africa-minded in terms of giving? I don't think so. But it is wrong for me to be only Africa-minded in my lifestyle, in prayer? Absolutely. Every person in the world, regardless of their economic status, is hurting. And every person has been offered a way out of that pain through Christ, through letting Him bear those burdens through seeking His forgiveness from the debt we owe that's already been taken care of. So maybe it's hard to be compassionate some days, hard to love. But rather than being clouded with American materialism I pray for clarity. I pray for God to show me how to love ALL people.

It doesn't have to be difficult. It's actually really simple. God's called me to love. And actions stem from that love. I first love Him and all else falls into place. But I've been home for 4 days and already I'm up to my neck with to-do lists and anxiety, overwhelmed with all that has to be done with Clothed in Hope, with school, this transition back into "normal" life, just with time. Time that seems to be slipping away and instead of tackling things head-on my first instinct is just to curl up in a ball and hope it fixes itself. It's weird. It's also a bittersweet kinda thing. Friends who know me well know I'm not a huge fan of the mushy gushy but something inside me is getting all sentimental with this year that doesn't only mark the last year of college but the last year of life as I know it. And if I'm being honest, that's kinda scary.

I can't articulate my feelings or what's going through my head. It's a lot but it's also not. It's joy, it's pain. It's everything it feels like. Rather than sitting down to hash out these feelings or spending hours trying to pinpoint the things I need to "fix," I'll choose to act in a way that's not my first instinct. At all. I'll choose to seek God's truth above my truth:

So do not fear for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am Your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold You with my righteous right hand.
Isaiah 41:10

back

In just an hour I'll be leaving this place that's been "home" and heading to the airport to go home. Nine weeks have passed. I've been to Zambia and back. I've completed over 300 hours of my internship. I've seen a lot. Learned so much. I love it here in Africa but something just feels ready to be back. Maybe because I'll be returning in a few short months so it's not "goodbye," it's "see you later."

There are some things I won't particularly miss over the next few months though. I won't miss the uncertainty of every meal, wondering how it'll make me feel in a matter of minutes and never really feeling 100%. I won't miss this country-wide water shortage that forces me to take bucket showers with water fetched from our pool. I won't miss the smells or the gagging feeling walking by a particularly rank gutter. I won't miss sweating. All the time. There are of course other things I won't miss too badly. As I was thinking about all of these things my heart leaped a little bit about the comforts I get to slip back into. However in the back of my mind I couldn't shake the thought that it's not fair to think like this. I get to leave. Everyone here has to stay- battling disease, malaria, parasites, malnutrition, life difficulties, poverty, water shortages, dehydration, even death. Rather than only rejoicing over what I'll gain over the next few hours, I will choose to pray for what I leave behind, for the people who can't just hop on a plane to live a different life. I pray for their strength, their safety, but most of all, their eyes to be opened to the only One who can save them from all things in this life- Jesus.

Will you join me in praying for the people of Ghana, of Zambia, of Africa?

storms

I wrote this entry back on May 13. No special day, it was just on my heart to write it. I’ve come to realize that this whole Zambia adventure is glamorized, that people believe it was just out of pure passion that I founded Clothed in Hope. I’ve written this entry to show you that this idea couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m sorry for misleading you with what you believe to be the beginning of Clothed in Hope. Today, I want to share the real beginning. I’ve been saving this entry for the day that Clothed in Hope became a 501(c)(3) tax-exempt organization and I’m overjoyed to post this TODAY! I write this entry from MY point of view, from MY heart. I’ve been excited to share this story but as I type it today, I’m actually kinda scared. But here goes nothing…
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Storms. Unexpected, sudden, strong, forceful, uninvited, overpowering. The effects can either be renewing or devastating. Nothing in between. Either producing fertile land for new life or tearing down even the strongest foundations with its harsh winds and torrential rains. I’ve always compared my season of darkness last semester as fire, refining my faith into priceless gold, the purest treasure of the greatest worth. But looking back now I see it as a long storm. Unsure of the start and finish, coming up suddenly but vaguely, like a shower that kicks off an awful storm. Ending in either one of two ways and having little to do with that decision but still having input. Last semester’s storm ripped down much of all I knew and was comfortable with- especially in regards to faith. Its winds stretched and bent the faith I thought I was so sure of. But through persistence, through batting down the hatches with blind faith and desperate prayers, along with a huge helping of grace from the most merciful God, my storm ended how many don’t get to. Producing a plentiful harvest, producing fertile land for God to do with it what He pleased, what He had planned it for from the start. I deserve zero credit for this miraculous ending, for its product. I just merely chose to cling to what I knew in my mind was most important though at many times it strongly different from what my heart felt. My heart felt betrayed, angered, wanting the easy way out But from what I’ve learned from God and of God, following Jesus would be better- eternally.

This whole metaphor sets up for a brilliantly complex story of the REAL beginning of Clothed in Hope- one hidden deep in my heart that’s lately been screaming to get out. This isn’t for my pride or to tear down the other person’s. It’s actually not about people whatsoever. It’s about an incredibly faithful God who taught me real, raw, honest, blind faith for the first time in my life to bring me to a place of the same blind faith daily walking in God’s will for me through Clothed in Hope. I want people to know that the beginning wasn’t some giggly slumber party or the joyous feeling of that fashion show I volunteered at. It didn’t dawn on me like some lightbulb moment. It was a direct product of the hardest semester of my life. God doesn’t promise us that we’ll see the motive behind something He does, or that we’ll reap the harvest- not on this earth at least. But eternally? You bet. God’s grace- the undeserved gift- is the only explanation for how I get to see the product transform into what it is today. There are still questions I wrestle with but at the end of the day I know my God is for my good, He’s faithful, He’s gracious, He’s merciful, He’s sovereign over all things. So let’s rewind to Zambia, a full year ago:

I began my Zambia journey not knowing a soul, ready to see God rock my world, unaware of just how He planned to do so. Excited to be content in my singleness for the first time, maybe ever, I was confident that I knew how it would play out. I’d meet great people who would turn into great friends, witness a shocking culture that would break my heart and grow my faith. All of these things happened, and then some. All of these things happened subordinate to this unforeseen thing. A relationship. One that I didn’t pray for or expect one but one that God brought my way to stretch me a bit. Sure six weeks wasn’t long but in foreign place, living in the same house, sharing not only events and memories but also emotional and spiritual experiences, things took off. For the first time in my life I was being pursued in the most beautiful and God-glorified way: protected, treasured, encouraged. I didn’t understand or even welcome a lot of it until I realized it was God’s way of showing me how to be vulnerable again, how to trust, open up, and let someone else into my usually guarded heart. God really taught me how to do this in a healthy way, a way that pushed us both closer to Jesus through such uncharted territory. We experienced things that 99% of new couples never will. We laughed together on bus rides but also shared emotional moments of (me) crying after stepping off the bus onto a dirty road in front of the orphanage with beautiful but disease-stricken children singing songs of praise to God in the loudest, most glorious little voices. Stuff like that doesn’t happen at the movie theater. God pushed me out of my comfort zone maybe even further than anything in Africa did. I could deal with cold showers, strange foods and cold nights. But I had no idea how to approach this new phase in my life. It took a bit of time but I grew to really treasure what God gifted me with- a man seeking the Lord above all else with that in the forefront of our entire relationship. This man was a part of our group so we both knew that things in America would look a bit different. But he told me he was ready for that challenge so off we went. My best friends shared in my joy, and I was able to sit back and really marvel at what God did to repair my heart and bring me to this new place that had been a desire of my heart ever since I really started living for Christ.

Back in America was more of a culture shock than Africa. Already the dissonance got to me. But I was thankful that I had this special person to go through it with me, talking things out and continuing to point me to Christ. If the story cut off there I would mention how the reverse culture shock was like PTSD to me- shook me up completely and I fought this daily battle against hatred for America. But God wanted to push me further. So the sprinkles that were falling soon turned into a huge crack of lightning and thunder with a torrential downpour. All at once with a phone call. One that essentially consisted of “I want out.” Before I knew it I was up to my head with floodwaters of insecurity, anger, heartbreak, doubt and worst of all, bitterness. Not towards the one who delivered this rough news to me but against God. How could He?! He made me open up parts of my heart that I had walled up for so long. He tainted my whole Zambia experience with memories involving another person. He dangled something so great in front of my eyes to only take it away when I was just about to reach out and grab it with full joy. Was this some sort of sick joke? Some may see this as just a breakup, but for me it was a breakup with all I knew- with him, with myself, with trusting God. The next weeks that followed were far from easy. I was so angry, so confused I read these “comforting” verses over and over as if to get them to sink in but they only made me angrier. Did God care about MY feelings at all? I grew apart from friends, even fought with the one who had never given up on me. I wanted nothing to do with anyone who had the capability of hurting me like he did, or at least how I let him. This was the part of the storm with rain so hard you can’t even see feet in front of you. I was driving through this ordeal with wipers on high speed but nothing I could do could get me to see even inches in front of me. I knew God, I cried out to Him, I got real with Him, I shouted at Him. At the thickest rain though, I fell to His feet. I threw up my hands and tried to accept what He had panned. This wasn’t even close to a linear progression. But let me just say, God was and is for my good. God knew that for my control-seeking personality, I would have to have the rug pulled completely out from under me to look up to see what’s next. God broke my faith to rebuild it into something so beautifully new and intricate. To know Him deeper.

The rain still fell but in it I could see the sun peeking out. Jesus spared me intense destruction and came to my rescue. There were only brief moments when I felt the closeness of God. Most times I just had the promises of God in His Word and clung to them. I plastered these promises all over my room in hopes that they’d be engrained in my heart. God had to take extreme measures wrecking my faith to make it into the one He desired. I walked through the darkest time holding the hand of my Father, the One who desires every ounce of my heart. Even in that time I wasn’t lacking anything. I was and am complete in Christ. God taught me the hard way of what real faith is: trusting that God is for my good when I can’t see evidence of that whatsoever.

So then began the repair stage, changing my bitter heart into one of tender forgiveness, coping with Africa memories by embracing them while still appreciating my place in America. Seeking forgiveness and starting fresh in the friendships I turned my back on. God is FULL of grace through what Jesus did on the cross 2000 years ago and I’ve never grasped grace either until all of this happened. I’m grateful for the Lord breaking me and teaching me how to walk by faith daily, for showing me that emotions and feelings have no effect on God’s truths. Through the downpour, my life was being prepared for God’s harvest. He was ready to harvest my passions and talents for His glory and not my own. I don’t want this to ever be misunderstood to mean that hardship produces tangible blessings. Because it usually doesn’t. But our testing from God will produce spiritual blessings. Closeness to God is better than any gift or outcome of hardship. What he taught me will forever shape my faith and what I know of God.

God forgave all doubt and bitterness and anger that I threw at Him- through Christ’s death and resurrection. I have been raised up to be new. I am not seen as the doubter but as perfect through Christ. Did I deserve an ounce of this? No. But God chose to pour out His grace and mercy out of love, as He does to all people on earth through Christ to those who accept Him, believe in Him, and choose to live for Him. Late last fall while still in the repair stages I started to see the first sign of life peek out of the soil, one that would begin the growth of the most beautiful flower that has become Clothed in Hope. God knew. He knows every step necessary to form us into who He wants us to be. I praised God then for who He was and I praise Him now that He’s still the same and will always be the same.

I now cling to this verse in my heart to continue walking in blind faith, covered by the grace of God: Hebrews 10:23 “Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess for He who promised is faithful.” Oh and this one too, “Those who seek the Lord lack no good thing” Psalm 34:10b. The storm was good. The tears were good. Because they brought me closer to my Maker and the Creator of the universe, than ever before in my entire life. My life is complete NOW. I no longer have to “wait” for good. Because this verse even proves that I have ALL His good now in seeking God. I don’t praise what He’s given me, I praise the Giver for who He is. He doesn’t have to give to be good. Christ is enough.

So I guess my motivation in sharing this super long story is to share how God brought me to this place of having enough faith to do something crazy like start a nonprofit corporation and move to Zambia as a single 22 year old. Because these things really aren’t crazy. They’re just another step in the path of God’s will for me. And that is GOOD. I realize this isn’t just a lemonade stand or a social-conscious fad. I also know that my God is faithful to fulfill His promises. He’s even proven that to me. Now is there room for even an ounce of doubt in that?

need

This is a text I received yesterday from Elina in Ng'ombe who I visited with all last week:
"Hi Amy! How was your trip back to Ghana? Tell Will and Kathy that I'm saying thank you for all the support. The children still need you here. May God bless you and your parents. You have been so good to us. Love you."

These words pierced straight through my heart while reading the text in a taxi in Accra, Ghana. I miss it. My heart aches. I've felt so many emotions over the past two weeks that I can't even begin to put into words. It's hard being in Ghana, especially when I receive texts like this. "The children still need you here." I still need them. I need to be reminded of what childlike faith looks like, how living in pure desperation produces abundant life in the Lord, what real hardship is, and to get a grip with what really matters.

Last week provided incredible clarity into the vision of Clothed in Hope. It shed light on things that aren't possible and opened up doors of things that are. Now I'm back at work left with all of this jumbled in my head. I could easily, and many times want to, just curl up in a ball and be in Zambia-mode and have everyone leave me alone. But that's not right. I need Zambia and I need the children. Most of all, I need Jesus. I rejoice that Elina's children know Jesus and don't really need me for any part of life. As incredible as it is to be used by God in their lives, I have to be reminded of the truth: they have it all in Him.

eleven

Here's a blog post I typed to post on July 1 (Friday) but the internet was down so I'm just getting around to putting it up:


These past few days here in Lusaka have been incredible. My expectations have been exceeded, prayers have been answered, and my heart has about burst at the seams with joy. I've met with Zambians in ministry, Zambians in Ng'ombe, and American missionaries who have all contributed different tidbits of insight and wisdom into Clothed in Hope and just daily life here in general. I've been blessed to even stop by a couple of schools to hand out shoes, underwear, socks, stickers, face wipes and bracelets all donated by family friends in NC. Each day has been packed with so many great meetings and opportunities to love and I've loved every second. Today (Friday) will probably go down as one of the favorites of all time though.

This morning we got up early to meet Elina, one of the widows in Ng'ombe, to visit the Quarry School. The school is in the poorest part of the already poverty-stricken slum. Children there are mostly single and double orphans with tattered clothes, no shoes or shoes hanging by a thread, runny noses and infected scrapes, and without a next meal to look forward to. Medical care isn't an option and the "school" is barely that. The children sit on wooden benches if they're lucky. The little ones just sit on a board on the ground. Their teacher, an incredibly caring and enthusiastic man, is responsible for teaching 50 little ones all below fifth grade and is doing a wonderful job. The school is just a structure of cinder blocks on the very edge of the compound. Though the children appear to have nothing they carry this incredible joy with them. While visiting, we were able to hand out pairs of shoes to the matches though it was difficult finding who fit the glass slipper at times. One sweet girl was busting out of her sandals with over a third of her foot hanging off the front of her sandal. She was chosen to try some of the shoes on but none fit. My heart ached as I had to hand her back the too-small shoes and send her back to the group without a gift in hand. (If TOMS reads this sometime, please visit Kasisi in Ng'ombe. They need you.) Each child either received shoes, underwear or socks and you would've thought it was Christmas morning in there. This one girl in particular, Flora, stole my heart. She was the tiniest one in the school and had these eyes that just pierce right through your heart. She looked up at me with the big eyes and something just clicked. Precious Flora didn't leave my side and was even first in line for nail painting. She appeared shy and reserved but clung to my side just craving that closeness. When we finished with the manicures we just sat around and played little games with the children. Flora took a spot on my lap and didn't crack a smile the entire time. Until the tickle game started. A huge group of girls laughed their heads off, some revealing beautifully bare-toothed smiles. I should've known I was in for it though because an attack soon followed and I was the one who couldn't catch my breath from laughing so hard. At my expense, Flora cracked a smile and that timidity melted away to reveal a beautiful heart, a heart just longing to be loved. If I could have smuggled her out of there trust me I would have. When it was time to go, little Flora just looked up at me with those huge eyes and held out her hand for me to shake it, though I couldn't resist but say goodbye with a hug and a photo too. I absolutely will be back soon. Please pray for these sweet children living in poverty like we can never imagine.

Soon after our school visit I was able to sit down and meet with the first group of women to be enrolled in the Clothed in Hope sewing training program. Elina coordinated our meeting and served as the translator when things didn't quite make sense as I explained them. She, her daughter Tresa, Jessy, Doreen and Vera all sat around Elina's living room and let me see just a glimpse into their lives. We talked about life for them in Ng'ombe as women, hardships there and ended just sharing a bit about ourselves. They were all hesitant but ended up being very receptive to the plans of Clothed in Hope. At the beginning I couldn't get any responses or any smiles back but at the end of our meeting the women were parting ways with hugs all around. The harshness on their faces exposed the hurt and pain they have lived through which I'll probably never understand. But the words that followed the hugs are what really touched my heart. I told the women I'd be back in a year and apologized for the time being so long. Doreen corrected me and said "Eleven months. It's only eleven months away!" with a hesitant yet radiant smile. These women need help. They admit it and are begging for help. They're dreaming of better lives with this skills training and can't wait for everything to begin. Elina even said that there's "no one to depend on." Jessy said that she's looking forward to the skills training because her life will be changed. She will be able to be someone else with the hope that it delivers. If that's not motivation to help, I'm not sure what is. These are real women with real hurt and real struggles. Not just shallow insecurities but life-dependent worries and fears.

I also was able to meet up with 2 girls I met while doing campus ministry at Copperbelt University in Kitwe, Zambia last summer. It was incredible to see them again! One of them, Faith, was a freshman when I met her. I told her I was coming so she traveled 5 hours to meet me for the weekend, is paying for accommodations for the weekend, and will travel 5 hours back. All with a dead cell phone and barely enough money to pay the fare on the way back. All to get ice cream with me for one hour at a shopping center she'd never been to before. That's pretty convicting. I don't know if I can honestly say I'd do the same for a friend traveling from far away but through her I see the selflessness of Christ. She's a beautiful friend with a beautiful heart and I'm so blessed by her friendship. Same with Mwansa who now lives in Lusaka and offered to be there for me when I move next year.

This all just happened today. My heart has been on a roller coaster from joy and love to hurting for these children and women in Ng'ombe. My head is about to explode from thinking through things though I feel like I haven't even begun to sort out from everything I've been seeing and experiencing. I'm looking forward to days ahead of processing everything though someone will have to drag me on that plane tomorrow night. It's been absolutely incredible here. But I rejoice in that I could be back in just eleven months.

family

Sad to say, I'm writing this on the last day of the Zambia trip. We fly out tonight at 2am (strange I know) and it's all pretty bittersweet. Over the past few days I've been blessed to meet and reunite with some incredible people. Most inspiring of them all: Elina. Elina is the woman who I met last summer who greatly influenced the decision to begin Clothed in Hope. Every day here I've been at her house in the morning, going to schools for games and giveaways, and meeting with some of the women who will be the first to go through Clothed in Hope's sewing program. Elina so graciously coordinated all of these things, opened her house to us and really just treated us as her own family. It was great seeing the kids again and learning so much from their strength and complete reliance on the Lord. Elina's oldest, Frank, just finished his first term at a university. Coming from his background in the Ng'ombe compound, he had a rough year. Which is an understatement. Frank told my parents all about the isolation he felt without "bills in the pockets." Frank is the ONLY person in the entire Ng'ombe compound to attend the university. Out of 80,000 or so. The only. And we all couldn't be prouder of his achievements, his perseverance, and his servant heart for his family.

Today I went to Elina's house to say goodbye and was greeted with a song and dance from her two daughters and one of the orphans who lives with her. The entire family grouped together for a photo and it was so hard to leave. After hugs and handshakes all around we left with a "see you soon" rather than a goodbye. Just a few hours later, Elina texted me wanting me to meet her best friend since childhood, Susan. There with her friend, Elina spoke of the hard times she's faced. I've heard the story in an email but she never spoke of it around me until now. She used few words but the look of pain, of struggle in her eyes said it all. Her husband died just 3 years ago from a case of malaria that took him from her in a matter of days. After his death she had to move all the children to Ng'ombe, away from Susan and her childhood neighborhood, due to her lack of income and her isolation as a widow. I can never and will never be able to understand what she's been through. But her begging of prayers for God's strength and to be abiding in Him daily help me see a glimpse into her life and her heart. Her selflessness and graciousness in her family are incredible. The way she radiates Christ to each child and raises them not in bitterness but in love is astounding. I've been so blessed to live just a few hours of life with her this week and am looking forward to years of friendship to come.

When we parted ways one final time Susan said "We are now all family. We are one." For a people who have suffered much and been hurt greatly, those aren't just words. They're a warm embrace, a welcome into a deep friendship. Susan and Elina both like to refer to the time I'm coming back in relation to months, not even saying that it's a year out. With a huge smile on her face and after sharing offers of cooking classes and help adjusting here, Susan once again shared a few words that spoke right to my heart: "When you come in June, you just tell others that you're going home. This is your home."

As bittersweet is it is to leave now, as it will be to leave all of my incredible friends at Carolina, my family and friends in NC, it's comforting to know that I'm doing lots of leaving, but just to come home to a family.

affirmation

All along I've been questioning. Wondering. Doubting even. The crazy thoughts running through my mind didn't quite calm down when I came down with a TERRIBLE case of food poisoning in Accra, Ghana the night before we were supposed to fly out to Zambia. Laying in my bed unable to move around, I thought my worst fears had been affirmed. God didn't want me to keep going with Clothed in Hope. I had somehow messed things up or caused Him to change His mind.

But this was all wrong. Rather, God knew how my mind races, how I get anxious with excitement and tend to overplan. Laying basically half-dead in my bed, there wasn't much time for planning or mental preparation for the trip. I had planned to read these verses, pray this long, etc etc. But God a different plan. Doesn't He always?! And yet again He proves HIS control, HIS timing, HIS sovereignty over all things, even health. I woke up the next morning not feeling 100% but not nearly as awful as the night before and such peace just flooded over me. God loves to love His children. He delights in their joy. He loves to give to His children and doesn't withold any good from them. My sickness wasn't punishment but rather God's gift of removing anxiety and stress, of showing me where I could place 100% of my trust and where I could find renewed faith in His work.

So here I am in Lusaka, Zambia in the very same internet cafe I wrote all the blog entries in from last summer. I'm eating at the same places, shopping at the same stores, meeting some of the same people but yet it's different. I thought it'd be bittersweet here reminding me of such sweet memories of last summer that I won't be able to get back. Instead it's different, it's new. It's incredible just how these two days even have made me feel so comfortable, so at rest. This may be a small detail but I slept better last night than in the past 6 weeks! It's home. I write this and my heart races a bit at the reality of this statement but I'm incredibly excited. Every last detail has just been affirmation for me and for Clothed in Hope. Sure things aren't glamorous or super easy here. But there's just something about this place that feels so right. I was able to meet with a man yesterday from an NGO here in Zambia who could be and will be a great contact for Clothed in Hope. I don't want to get ahead of myself in explaining things but let's just say that God's really taking care of these plans. So many things came together in a matter of minutes that I couldn't even begin to make happen over an entire semester.

I'll be updating with more stories of the things I've seen, the people I've met and the plans in the process as I have time.

Just a glimpse at the life here in Zambia, the poorer, shyer, less popular cousin of Ghana: Yesterday we went to visit an organization here employing young women, mostly single mothers, to crochet purses from platic bags. The compound includes a safe house for boys & girls in Ng'ombe that need a place to flee during a hard time. The safe house began when one girl, then 13 years old, came to the compound after midnight one night after being raped by a group of men who attacked her. She's now 16 and still lives in the safe house with her 3 year old beautiful daughter and gift of the Lord, Kelly. She's been trained to create these purses to provide for her and her daughter. Just stories like this rip your heart out but it hurts more knowing they're not uncommon whatsoever. The immense need of Ng'ombe is what continues to fuel my heart for these people. And just the gentle beauty they all carry with them despite such hardship.

Okay I could write for days. I'm really done now. I'm in awe that God isn't though!

support

Every morning I walk into the kitchen to get some breakfast and exchange a "Good Morning, how are you?" with Grace, Ben's nanny, and Gina, the housekeeper. I've enjoyed getting to spend more time with them, linger a bit longer in the kitchen or in my room while Gina's cleaning just to talk to them more. It's not my natural inclination to slow things down and just enjoy people. But I'm enjoying learning that and praying that it'll continue. Gina takes 3 buses to get here and lives far away. She leaves her house at 5:30 but doesn't get to our house until around 9 every morning. She keeps this house looking beautiful. She's a very talented seamstress but when her business went under she just took the first job she found. I love her passion for sewing and for people- things beyond a mop and a broom. She's a quiet woman but once you talk with her, not at her, she just lights up and has a beautiful smile that brightens her whole face. On Friday, I told her that my parents will be coming soon and that I'll be traveling with them for two weeks. I didn't think she'd remember, or really care honestly. This morning after our greeting and while I'm finishing up breakfast she asks when they're coming. And in the most simplest yet touching of moments she looks at me and says, "I'll be missin' you."

I hate to admit it but I don't think I'd stop and spend as much time with a housekeeper in America. And I've been really convicted of that. Gina is a beautiful, wonderfully caring woman who just wants to feel special. I'm thankful that I can see her through God's eyes, and though I fail many times, I can let His love shine through me to reach out to her. I pray that these realizations will come with me back to the States and that I can continue to see God's sons and daughters as the beautiful people they are, all created in His image. I can't wait to share more later about the other wonderful Ghanaian women I've met and spent time with here.

This post, however, is about my realization after Gina said this sweet thing to me. Here I am sitting at work just itching with excitement for my parents to come here on Friday. They're traveling for a day, spending a week and a bit in Ghana and five days in Zambia and then another day's travel to go home. All along I've been excited for them to experience what I'm constantly talking about at home. I've been looking forward to showing them around here, allowing them to experience my daily life in Ghana. But most of all though I'm just so antsy to show them where I left my heart- at the Ng'ombe slum- and let them experience the sheer joy of those children and women so in love with the Lord, living with so little. I've been viewing these next two weeks as just another two weeks out of my 10-week stay here. But this is a big deal. My parents are taking off of work, spending a pretty penny to come here and more to experience life here, and they're putting themselves out there to live a life so much different than in the States, ridding themselves of many comforts of home and opening themselves up to so many new experiences. I confess that I take that for granted sometimes. Actually a lot of times. Sitting down to think about it all though, it's beyond incredible. It's beautiful. It's selfless. It's touching. It's loving. It's Jesus. I'm thankful beyond words that I have two parents so supportive of my passions, helping me discover them and celebrating in them. They WANT to see the future site of Clothed in Hope. They WANT to see the sights of Ghana. Most touching of it all, they WANT to do all of this with ME. I don't think I tell them enough so I'll say it now. Thank you Mom and Dad for radiating Christ through your actions, your words, and your guidance. Thank you Mom for being the Proverbs 31 wife and mother. Thank you Dad for caring for us, supporting us, leading our family, and raising me and Mark the Ephesians 6:4 way. Y'all bring so much joy to my life and the support I have from y'all means more to me than I'll ever be able to express in words. I love y'all.

So here goes to these next two weeks, surely filled with joy, confusion, unmet expectations, tears of joy and of pain, bittersweet feelings from last summer in Zambia, many laughs, smiles, and most of all, love.

pebbles

The egg sandwich lady wasn't at her stand on Wednesday night so we decided to get rice & beans (Waayke) from this lady's stand tucked back a bit from the main road. Not like a hike but a few steps back with no line. Some say that should be a sign of bad food but instead I was trying to see it as a great find- fifty cents for a huge portion, no line, perfect. And it was perfect until I got it home and ate a good part of it. I was chowin down with just a few bites left and crunch. Not a bone crunch that I could force down somehow (it's pretty common) but like a real bad crunch. So, unladylike of me, I had to see what it was. It was a pebble! A round, black PEBBLE. Gross. Maybe that's why this lady didn't have any business. How do pebbles just jump into a huge pot of Waayke anyways? Weird.

Fast forward to today. Our Marine friend's driver came to pick us up from the movies (yes we had a spoiled day today) and of course Tori had to share my story. Emmanuel, the driver, busts out laughing and doesn't stop for a good while. I thought he was laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation, as the random/crazy stories only seem to happen to me around here. He then explains "you should be happy it wasn't a stone! You are lucky it was just a pebble." Really?! Emmanuel tells me that it's pretty common to find large stones in your street chop (the stands on the side of the road that serve food like I got).

We drove down the road a bit and I made a comment about how great he drives in the terrible Accra traffic. Emmanuel, with such a happy chuckle, says, "You just have to be patient. It's a waste to get angry." This may sound like a duh moment but around here in Accra, patience is something I've gotta work pretty hard at, especially with the language barrier, poor sense of direction, and millions of opinions which are all usually incorrect. Emmanuel was so right though. What's the point? Why spend my time being frustrated and upset? Sure it's the easier way to go but definitely not the most beneficial to me,, or anyone else for that matter.

Then I connected the dots. Again this may seem cheesy or a bit over the top but around here I've gotta go off of something. Motivation and inspiration are found in the smallest of details. There's not much else to go off of so I'm thankful for these little lightbulbs that go off sometimes. I should be grateful for the pebbles. That they're just pebbles and aren't stones. So many things go wrong, or just not according to plan here. As a whole though I'm doing just fine and life isn't as dramatic as we make it seem. Same goes with the States back home. I find myself blowing up at the smallest of difficulties or inconveniences when really?! Life could be so much harder. But again, it's by grace that I only get the occasional pebble.

twisted

This weekend I went on a trip with all of the Global Mamas interns and some staff from the Cape Coast and Accra offices to Busua beach. It's known to be the most gorgeous, cleanest and quietest beach in all of Ghana and I'd have to agree! We took this huge safari-esque truck with open air windows and headed to the "resort" after we met up with everyone at the Cape Coast office. All along I've wished to be there or at least somewhere different than Accra but once we got there, I realized Accra is exactly where I want to be. Cape Coast is so much prettier but also so much quieter, apart from the inside of the volunteer house. Around 15 or so interns live at the house there and I mean I enjoy friends and all but my Scooby Doo bottom bunk is treating me just nicely these days. I thought the grass was greener in Cape Coast but I'm happy to be in Accra for sure. Oopsies I always get sidetracked. Okay so Busua Beach. We got there early evening, put on our swimsuits and headed straight for the water. Let's pause for a second though. We were told very little about this trip. Basically just to meet up with the group and we'd get there. So I didn't ask questions, for maybe the first time ever when it comes to planning a trip (a huge duh for all who've traveled with me or just been around me for more than 10 minutes). Looking back now though I kinda wish I'd spoken up but yay for learning experiences right?! We pulled up to this pristine resort with a guard house and a gated entrance... to turn around and go to our "resort." I actually love the roughin' it lifesytle here which is a huge surprise to me. I'm fine with the 5 minute cold shower, bucket showers even, bugs, sweat, dirt, strange odors, I can do it all no problem. But here was a different story. The Alaska Resort is owned by a group of rastas. Not judging but just stating facts- the whole "don't worry bout a thing" is pretty accurate, even when it comes to our living conditions. I was handed the key to my grass hut and off we went. Luckily I got to room with just my friend Tori but not so luckily was the day-long power outages, community unisex bathroom 10 huts away with an inch of water on the floor, and never-ending poundings of African drum circles that I never could locate. It sure was an experience though! A few girls got robbed, our towel rack broke in the night to dump our clothes in the mud, we got rained out from the beach for a good day and a half, but it wasn't the end of the world. All of these things were just things- many things I've already dealt with and some that just seemed minute in comparison to other strange or inconvenient things that have happened previously this summer.

Something else was just unsettling. Sure there were amazing times of laying out on the beach, enjoying a very fresh catch of lobster and eating it straight out of the pot on a porch on the beach, and waking up to banana pancakes served on the beach (minus the honey as syrup and ants in the sugar). As a whole though my weekend was just bleh. Just not satisfying. Not enjoyable. Not what I was hoping for. I've tried to place that feeling ever since it began and I think I've narrowed it down to this one thing. Twisted paradise. This place that's supposed to be so pristine and so perfect just wasn't. These people who were supposed to be just like me, just weren't. For some reason I just had this uneasy feeling the entire weekend, itching to get away from it all. I was in paradise, literally, yet that couldn't be more from the truth of how I was feeling. I prayed and cried out to the Lord asking Him to meet me in this low place but I wasn't met with any revelations or visions or even fuzzy feelings. I felt like I had screwed something up or that I hadn't laid it all out on the table before God and I was somehow being punished. My fear, doubts, and insecurities flooded into my mind. The more I examined the situation, the more I felt... inadequate. I tried to find joy in the weird weekend, celebrating how "paradise" isn't even close to Paradise in heaven. And for that I do rejoice! I just didn't FEEL it. I kept reminding myself of truth. I'm not supposed to be able to fit in with everyone; I represent Christ and have been set apart. The dissatisfaction I felt from everyone just hurt my heart. We all feel it but we all handle it different ways. For me though it was just heart-breaking to be in this incredible place and just see people who haven't experienced true joy, who don't know of the One who brings complete satisfaction and security. Something inside of me wanted to burst it out but with that was a tension to keep it all bottled up. I just wanted to tell them what kept repeating in my mind and in my heart all weekend: temporary pleasure pales in comparison to eternal treasure. Sounds cheesy but it really was like a broken record in my mind. Instead of being some beach preacher I instead just ran to the Lord. All of my feelings of inadequacy I put on Him. Christ died for every single burden, every single fear or disappointment of mine, even in myself. It is finished. There's nothing else to be drawn out or held against me. Even when the fuzzy feelings aren't there, even when I "feel" like God is millions of miles away, I have a Truth I can cling to. God never changes. He never feels unsure about His love for me. He never feels unsure about His love for all people of the world.

That's faith. It's also a challenge to pursue each day but I've found that every single time, God meets me in that. It didn't come this weekend, it didn't come last night when I got back to Accra but it came today. God's mercy is new each and every day, and today I could wake up with such peace in knowing that, knowing that He's for my good and that His plan is always better. Being completely honest, it's been hard for me here this time around. No one knows me or where I stand with my faith so it'd be easy just to let things fizzle out. But instead I crave even more time with the One who saved me from eternal pain, the One who reminds me that satisfaction is only found in Him and that every moment and every person was created to glorify Him alone. Here there's no Christian friends, no Bible studies, no church sermons, no church groups, services, accountability; nothing. There is no Christian music blaring from the radio, no trendy videos or deep conversation. It's just raw. It's a choice to live by faith. It's a choice to seek God in the hardest times instead of running to what's comfortable or what's easy. It's not easy but God DELIGHTS when I turn to Him in the hardships. He doesn't create hardships for His joy but instead He finds complete joy in seeing me choose Him over it. Wow I've just been rambling and completely threw my heart all out there. But I don't regret it a bit. I tend to overuse my words but to end I'll just keep it simple.

I choose Christ.

crash

Maybe the title of this one isn't so great but it was honestly difficult for me to think of just one word to sum up this entire weekend. It was incredible, definitely one for the books but just like an amazing sugar high after one too many chocolates, there's gotta be a crash.

This weekend me and a few friends went on an adventure to Wli Waterfalls in the Lake Volta region of Ghana. The drive is supposed to be just over 3 hours so we packed up the car Friday afternoon and head off (this time also with a driver thank goodness). Our home in Accra just ran out of water Friday due to an electrical shortage with our pump so I had just experienced my first bucket shower with a Glad container. But we were ready. We had our hotel booked, military itinerary printed out to the hour from the US Embassy, and plenty of cedis ready for great food and attractions. We hit a ton of traffic heading out of Accra and this should've been a sign. The traffic lightens up and right when we think we're good to go to catch up on lost time, the sky turns this awful black. Maybe the blackest I've ever seen but that may have to do with just the sheer visibility of such flat land here. We could see for miles and we could see that it wasn't going to be good. Our super experienced driver, Emmanuel, even wasn't feeling so great about it so once the blinding rain began we had to pull over a couple of times to let cars pass to go the safer speed. All around became flooded and roads became backed up with traffic but we were certainly warned about the rainy season. They sure weren't kidding either. So this unexpected storm put us back a few hours and after dark in Ghana, nothing really can happen. Nothing good at least. (Sidenote to any concerned individuals: I felt safe the entire time riding in a US Embassy vehicle with an experienced Ghanaian driver, Marine, and new best friend so no need to worry.) Anyways, as we got closer to the town with the falls and our hotel we could see that the roads weren't going to be so nice to us. We called the hotel and they said there was no way for us to get there. The road we needed to take was blocked off due to a funeral weekend (which is a huge deal here and actually really neat). We missed the detour with the dark and the rain but managed to get on the right street again. This next part of the story sounds like it'd be like 5 minutes but in Africa, everything is 10 times more complicated and takes 10 times as long. We searched from town to town for a place to stay but people literally said "we have no room." I thought for sure we'd be sleeping in some stable or at least in the car. It was the weirdest thing. Even the dingiest of hotels, no room. What?! We called people to connect us to other people who would recommend us to others and finally found one place. We drove there as fast as we could and no joke, as we pulled into the driveway the power shut off. As if the night wasn't difficult enough. The guys were worn out and just wanted a place to sleep when they were told that they'd have to be the ones to start up the old-school generator. And of course after a billion tries, the city power finally comes back on! Thank goodness though! We looked around at the place we'd decided to stay based off of sheer exhaustion and it turned out to be the most incredible, home-y inn I've seen yet. No bed bugs, no mosquitoes, no dirt, and even furnished with homemade quilts on the beds. Perfection. Our weekend turned around at that very moment, and as the giant bowl of veggie pasta hit the table as we had forks in hand ready to eat. Go figure the one time we don't pack a billion snacks we get stranded but that's always when it happens right?! The huge feast of a dinner made up for it, along with friends, laughs, and the power staying on the rest of the night.

The next morning we slept in later than expected, fueled up with a HUGE breakfast then drove up to the Wli Waterfalls Reception. I was still a bit beat from the adventure the day before so I thought I was still dreaming but nope! My favorite animal of all time, an ostrich!, was just roaming around reception looking for hand-outs from tourists stopping in before the hike. We were warned about the strenuous nature of the hike but again, it's Africa... what do they really mean? Difficult? No. Try hardest hike of my entire life. Like probably 3 times worse than Camelback in Arizona that I hiked in November. And in 90 degrees with humidity. But what a great test of endurance both mental and physical. I caught myself just praying to the Lord as a friend, as a comforter in thanksgiving for even being able to walk up a mountain and asking for strength that I didn't think I had. From the first view of the mountain I didn't think there was a way but 3 hours later we arrived at the top falls of Wli and it was the most incredible thing. Drenched from head to toe we traded sweat for the cool water and mist from the falls as we jumped in right away. There's just something so peaceful and rewarding about a great hike. For me I think it was that I honestly didn't think I could make it yet it was only my mind holding me back from doing so. We had a great guide, Samuel, who showed us different natural remedies for bug bites, tree fibers for energy, berries for survival and pointed out different landmarks along the way, such as the village with reception that got smaller and smaller the longer we hiked up the mountain. From the top of the falls, I just sat and marveled. It may sound cheesy but it really was just a moment in awe of God's creativity, His power to create all of this to bring Himself glory. I sat on a rock in the sunlight with my Luna bar lunch and just closed my eyes to listen to the sound of people singing in the church in the village as it drifted up the mountain and rested where we were. There aren't many moments like that, allowing us to just sit and marvel. The ones we do have are just such sweet ones. After a long rest we began the hike down the mountain, just as difficult but felt so refreshing knowing we were heading back with a bit more energy and lifted spirits. The sky was gorgeous the entire time and right when we headed back to the car at reception, the craziest downpour began. It came just in time as we were worn out, hot, tired, and just put the icing on the cake for the most difficult yet most rewarding hike of our lives.

The next morning we packed up the car, said our goodbyes to sweet Margaret, the owner of the inn, and her son who were both so hospitable to us. We were the only guests in the inn those nights so it really was like a home away from home for us. We left early so that we'd have plenty of time for travel but mostly to catch the Mona monkeys before they went into the forest for the afternoon. At Tafi Atome Monkey Sanctuary nearby we enjoyed a private tour of the grounds, protected for the conservation of the forest and monkeys. The Monkey Sanctuary fees are poured directly into the community and have provided schooling for all the children, a new clinic, and improvements in housing in that region that really needs it. Besides that, we got to hold monkeys! We were each handed an unpeeled banana and just told to hold our arms out tight. The tour guide was also named Emmanuel. Ah crazy! As I'm typing it just hit me! Emmanuel means God is with us. And as evidenced from all of our escapes from near-tragedies, He absolutely was! Anywho I diverge. Emmanuel just told us to hold on tight as he let out this crazy monkey call and pointed to the branches as they began to shake closer and closer in. We looked around the forest edge where we were standing and we spotted monkeys all around us! The tour guide said that Mona monkeys favor white women, oddly enough, but it seemed to be true. I had two monkeys fighting on my arm- twice- with monkey scratches up my arm to prove it. A younger monkey jumped on my arm once and just sat peeling the banana with his little hands. So surreal. Another highlight of the trip and a memory I never want to forget. We then headed back home and on the ride home I was just praying, talking to God about the weekend. I realized this: God never says no, He just says "I have better." Maybe this isn't in the form of visual blessings and provision like my weekend was, maybe I'll never see the "better" of certain situations, but I believe that statement with my whole heart.

So that's all the sugar. And I hate writing novels but it always turns out like this. But with the sugar comes the crash. Our crash came quicker than we thought it would as we walked into our volunteer room straight into a solid inch of brown water covering the entire floor, including the bags I left behind for the weekend with books and chargers and such. No. way. The cheery, high spirits mood faded real quickly as we found two mops and a bucket and went at it for an hour until I enlisted some help from my boss's husband. He brought the electrician to fix the burnt out bulb in our bathroom who dropped the good bulb which shattered all in the water we were cleaning up. And then the power went out so we were mopping brown toilet water in the dark in the stinkin (literally) heat of the day. I have to admit I was livid. I was not a happy camper. How did this happen? Did no one care to move my things that were ruined? I wanted to find someone on which to place the blame but I was smacked with the reality that accidents happen. Maybe they happen a bit more here with a bit stronger severity with much more chaos, but they happen. And it's okay. Life will go on. God is still with us and if anything, He used that low to show me my lack of trust in His good. And for that I really am thankful. It's the low moments that draw us close to Him.