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On September 12 of this year, we held our fourth graduation ceremony
in Lusaka, Zambia for eight brave women who successfully completed our Clothed
in Hope skills-training course.
In the middle of a dusty compound in the urban capital of
Zambia sits our Chikondi Community Center, our Home of HOPE for vulnerable
women in the area. We offer free skills-training classes in sewing and
entrepreneurship to empower and alleviate poverty in a dignifying, sustainable
way. Women in our program have suffered the death of their husbands at 40 years
old due to highly preventable diseases. Their babies have been murdered in the
hospital due to corruption. They have been poisoned because they have AIDS and
are “taking up bed space” at the clinic. They endure daily domestic abuse. They
face hunger, uncertainty, harassment from landlords, and the list could go on
and on. These are women IN our program, currently working through what will be
and what is a life-changing path for them and their families (more info:
clothedinhope.org).
I won’t even go into the situation of women who aren’t in
our program, because the need is overwhelmingly devastating. Just imagine a mom
selling her body nightly because her 6 babies are very hungry and she can’t pay
rent from month to month. Not because she wants to, but because to her it seems
there is absolutely no other option (…until she finds out about Clothed in
Hope, praise Jesus).
This reality can seem a world away to those of us not in
Zambia, even to me at times, especially now that I’m based back in the US to
provide administrative and financial support to our amazing (diva-status)
in-country staff.
But that Graduation Day in September struck a chord within me
and started a burning in my heart, and not just one for the Zambian women
facing seemingly impossible situations (since that fire’s been burnin’ for
quite some time now).
As I sat at the front of our Chikondi Community Center yard
under our Ceremony Tent (don’t ask, just roll with the Zambian cultural
differences), I peered out over the 60+ women who have graduated from, are
gradating from, or are currently enrolled in our skills training program that
began as a dream in my college apartment in 2010.
The dance breaks were so fun. The skits presented were
powerful yet hilarious (I love how much they love acting like “Mama Amy” with
her accent and over-usage of “awesome”). But the real magic started happening
toward the end of the ceremony.
In the middle of our dusty compound sat 8 women who have
achieved much, and were dressed to the nines full of confidence and beauty.
Nothing outside the walls mattered except the accomplishments of these women.
Women recognized for the first time in their entire lives.
I called each woman to the Ceremony Tent to receive her
diploma, a giant hug (a big deal since I’m not a hugger, but I couldn’t miss
out on these hugs y’all), and a few goodies from our In-Country Staff. The
reaction was contagious.
One woman, Stella, rockin’ a custom made African print dress
that fit her impeccably, rose from her chair when she was called. Her hands
lifted high in the air in praise to Jesus. She just froze in a moment of
intimate adoration, and we were all so honored to experience that moment with
her. Then as quickly as hands were raised, Stella busted a move all the way up
to the tent (also cultural, but also awesome). She danced, she cheered, she
laughed, she rejoiced. And when she arrived at the tent, she fell to her knees
before Jesus thanking Him for what He’s done in and through her life over the
past 12 months of this program, and her entire life leading up to this moment.
When she rose, she threw her arms around my entire body for what could be up
there for one of the best hugs of my entire life (sorry hubs).
All that, so magical. So beautiful. But the true,
awe-inspiring, challenging-to-my-soul beauty began when Stella turned away from
the tent to return to her seat. The entire crowd of 60+ people cheered! They
shouted! They danced! They raised their hands in praise! They ran up to her and
hugged her so tightly. They celebrated her with the most selfless love.
They didn’t celebrate because they knew their celebration
was coming later. Some have already graduated with much smaller graduation
ceremonies. Some may never graduate due to life situations calling them
elsewhere. They celebrated Stella simply because they love her. When she wins,
we all win. When her life is changed, we all rejoice in that.
I’m not a huge (public) crier, but tears of joy welled up
multiple times that afternoon. The sheer joy these women had in the ability to
celebrate each other was just breathtaking and heart-bursting.
Maybe we can write it off as another cultural thing.
Everyone knows Africans (Zambians) take care of their own and are huge on
community, right? Maybe it’s just how they are. But what if we look past
culture to see our commonality of humanity?
That perhaps this response is Jesus-rooted instead of
culturally-rooted.
I left that ceremony almost a month ago, but it hasn’t left
my mind ever since.
What would it look like for me to celebrate Jesus working in
and through my friends’ lives like my friends in Zambia do for each other? What
would it look like for me to truly celebrate others without a tinge of jealousy
or expectation or comparison?
When my best friend launches a College Women’s Connect as
the women’s ministry pioneer at her church and witnesses over 40 women attend
on Thursday nights, my heart cheers, but can’t my body and my voice too?! YES!
PRAISE JESUS! YOU GO GIRL! I AM SO PROUD OF YOU! YOU ARE SO BRAVE FOR STEPPING
OUT AND I LOVE WITNESSING JESUS WORK THROUGH YOU!
When my friend returns home from a third-world country after
a really rough time adopting her two beautiful girls, I can send her a nice
Facebook message, showing that I care but keeping my true celebration at a
distance. Or I can scour the aisles of Target for an hour in search of the
perfect presents for her and her two girls to send across the country to let
her know that they’re not forgotten. That they’re loved. That though the
transition is hard, I am cheering for her. Jesus is cheering for her.
How did community/friendship become such that we dial down
our celebrations and over-the-top reactions for each other? Maybe we’re getting
older and balloons aren’t age appropriate anymore (but they totally are). Maybe
social media tricks us into believing we’re connecting with someone. Or maybe
social media introduces us to these nasty things called comparison and
jealousy, and we don’t celebrate each other because we haven’t received that
celebration ourselves. She didn’t celebrate me, so why would I celebrate her?
We could go through every scenario and probably come up with
a reason as to why we don’t celebrate each other like we could. But what Jesus
has been revealing to my soul over and over since that Graduation Ceremony, is
that there’s simply no good reason to not celebrate accomplishments and traits
in my friends and strangers. Because He celebrates over me daily. He sings and
dances over my identity, apart from any progress I do or don’t make with my
personal struggles. He cheers me on as His daughter, no strings attached,
simply because I am His daughter and He is so proud of me as a person, apart
from CiH or anything I do. His price for me invites the most glorious
celebration.
Because He celebrates over me, I will celebrate over others.
Maybe even in the Zambian way because that seems to be more fun.
I will hug when I don’t feel inclined to because I know the
story that a stranger just told me took a lot of bravery for her to share. I
will send my friend excessive emojis and too many words in all caps when she
beasts a job interview. I will tell the barista that I really love her ring,
because I do, and because she deserves to be celebrated.
When I open my eyes and start looking around this world,
sure there’s a lot of pain. I absolutely get that. My past year and a half has
been filled with more pain that I ever thought I could endure.
But I also see so much celebration and potential for
celebration. So many parties, so many hugs, so many dances, so many affirming
words. We, as daughters of the King, have the opportunity to be Jesus to each
other with the Holy Spirit alive within us. Why not let the celebration we feel
within just explode, raining glitter on all who we come in contact with? We all
know that glitter is pretty dang hard to get out of much of anything. And I
would be totally fine knowing that each person carries the glitter of Jesus’
celebration with them every day, no matter the challenges ahead. No matter if
it’s hunger and abuse they face, or a broken relationship, or a tough financial
situation, or just a bad hair day.
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