graduation

In just an hour and a half, the second class of women will be graduating from our skills training program at the Chikondi Community Center. Four brave, committed, determined, beautiful women will receive their diplomas recognizing the countless hours and hard work they have put in over the past 12 months.

As I get all dressed up in my traditional chitenge suit and prepare for the day, tears stream down my cheeks. Not just the little trickle but the good and fat ones. Tears of release. Tears of joy. Tears of humility. Tears of being known, being loved, being accepted. Tears as I peer into the eyes of my Savior in awe of this very day. Yes in awe of all of the good that this day represents, but also tears that represent the struggle.

Day in and day out I analyze numbers. I review likes, shares, reach. I look at accounts and budgets and see how the two are struggling to keep up with each other. I analyze my peers in this industry. I want to celebrate with them but secretly (or not so much anymore) I am jealous of their accomplishments. I grow bitter. I grow anxious.  And above all, I grow fearful. Fearful that I’m doing this all wrong. Fearful that the money will run out or that I’ll never be able to get CiH to the level of some of my peers. Fear that cripples, fear that speaks death not life. Fear that isn’t of God. Fear that is sin.

Even in my sin, my selfish tendencies, and my narrow focus, Jesus ushers me in. He says come, you who are weary. Come, you are enough. Not because of your striving or your fear or your work, but because I have made you enough through My sacrifice for you, defeating sin and offering forgiveness. He invites me in to see as He sees, to view CiH for what it means to Him.

And it’s here that I see the beauty. The 4 women who have risen from the ashes in Jesus’ name. The 4 women who have gained a skill, yes, but have also gained a family, a place, worth, dignity, value, hope. The 4 women who seek Jesus as their lover, their Savior.  The full hearts, the restoration, the redemption. The Voice that whispers to them that they are His Beloved. They are accepted. They are not what their society or their neighbors tell them they are. They are not even their work or their new skill. Jesus has invited Heaven on earth, a beautiful glimpse of what’s to come, even in the midst of poverty and brokenness and terrible, terrible things. The King is on His throne. The King has called out these 4 women who feel anonymous to everyone else. He sits them up and brings them close.

And it’s in this truth, this beauty, this reality, that all else fades away. No amount of money can buy this hope. No number of followers is enough to affirm these women deep down in their souls. No account full enough to secure the souls of these dear 4. No campaign can be big enough to bring about life change in these women, in their families, in their communities and in generations to come as they excitedly share all they now know and experience. No tool on earth strong or good enough to measure the worth of these women in the eyes of their King Jesus.

So today I give it up. Lay it down. And I celebrate. I celebrate the immense value that today has in the lives of 4 women. I celebrate Jesus who redeems and restores. I celebrate our Father who is faithful, sovereign, steadfast, and victorious. I celebrate the brilliant light that overtakes the darkness here in Zambia. I celebrate also being called His Beloved, accepted, worthy of His love because of what He’s done for me and for all of us.

In the eternal, in the deepest parts of the soul, in light of what Jesus is calling to be on earth and in Heaven, all other stressors fade away. Am I still called to be obedient and faithful in the call God’s laid on my heart? Absolutely. But I am freed from the chains of comparison, of striving, of seeking affirmation from the world, of doubt, of fear in Jesus’ name. He has called me deeper, to greater things, greater things than I can even imagine. And instead of occupying my mind with the worries of today, I will fix my eyes on my King Jesus, my hope for today and for tomorrow. 

glorious

Sure there are difficult days. There are impossible days (like last Friday). But there are also glorious days. Days that almost seem like a cheat amidst all the crazy.

Just as I grieve hard on the impossible days, I want to make it a habit and a reaction to celebrate hard on the glorious days.

Today started off filled with anxiety, confusion, and discouragement. As I slammed my feet to the floor at an hour way too early, I literally said the words to this song in my head, “I may be weak, but Your Spirit’s strong in me.” I was anticipating and expecting the very worst to happen- a repeat of last week. (And I wanted everything to have a flat tire or some excuse to get me out of facing today).

Side-by-side with our In-Country Director, I navigated the all-too-familiar hallways of this office building and that, trying to get this one paper we’ve been waiting on for 16 months now. Last week was marked by harassment and belittlement. I take a deep breath and walk into this particular office to find the same man smiling at me, saying “Hi, cousin!” Filled with joy and helpfulness, this certainly was a different man than I met just one short week ago. A few crazy processes, a couple hours of waiting, and we have THE PAPER in hand. I turn to Elina (our In-Country Director) and ask, “What just happened??” And she responds, full of faith and assurance, “It was the favor and power of God.”

Yes & Amen.

But wait there’s more.

The best part.

Friday’s are Encouragement/Devotion days at the center. Led by different women each week, everyone comes together from all classes to sing songs of praise and worship, thanking God for His Spirit, His grace, His goodness. This week, this girl right here, Mama Amy, decided to try something a bit different during the sermon time. Unsure eyes stared back at me when I started explaining. Quiet, hesitant.

But within minutes, women were declaring “Amen” and “Praise God” as each woman stood up and declared two verses over their lives, their families, their peers and our program. Verses of strength, protection, freedom, redemption. The coldness in the room from the unsure feelings turned into a glorious boldness. Confidence. Embrace. As we exhaled all of the troubles in our lives, we inhaled the Truth being spoken by every single woman in the room. We savored the words that had the power to bring life to our hearts, light to the darkest places of our souls.

I looked around the room, surrounded by some women I’ve known for over 2 years now, and some I know very little about, and just took my own inhale. A full heart. A joyful, grateful soul. A feeling of humility to get to share life with women so beautiful as these, opening their lives and their hearts to each other and finding freedom in Jesus together.

And one-by-one, women prayed over these verses of theirs written on tiny pieces of papers. Each purple paper was held by a woman, each with their own story, their own struggles, and carefully taped onto the walls of our Chikondi Community Center.

The most beautiful decorations. Walls adorned with the Truth of God, words that give life, hope, restoration, purpose. I looked around as more papers were added to the walls and just sat in that moment.

Sometimes it’s hard to see the long-term results of the day-to-day goings on- the emails, the errands, the spreadsheets, the meetings. So whenever I get a chance to see things a bit deeper, I savor every second of it. These women are coming to know Jesus as their Savior, their friend, Victory over darkness, Hope in every circumstance. Sure the sewing is great, the skills invaluable, but this is what it’s all about. Lives being restored. Women being set free from the chains of oppression. Women experiencing true joy and peace. Women meeting Jesus even in the midst of hardship, as He always reaches down to find us. Understanding true value and worth.

Let’s just say- I didn’t see this day coming. But it has brought so much life to my weary soul. And I believe that Jesus is celebrating over the victories proclaimed today.  The much bigger story being written at the Chikondi Community Center and in every corner of the world: Jesus is proclaiming freedom for the captives. He is bestowing on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes. He is bringing the Good News of redemption and forgiveness of sin.

So grateful for those little purple pieces of paper, and to enjoy a glorious day full of reminders that Jesus is alive. He cares. He cares about the woman who is abused by her husband. He cares about the woman who is rejected by her family. He cares about the woman who is treated less than human by her neighbors. He cares about the woman who has been abandoned by her love. He cares about the woman whose baby was killed. He cares about the woman who turned to alcoholism to numb the pain. He cares about the woman who has threats against her life. He cares about all of us. No pain, no oppression, no injustice too far from His redemptive love and grace. 

impossible

Today was one of the impossible days here in Zam. There are tough days marked by terrible internet, sudden illnesses, feelings of isolation from folks back home, car troubles, and even a “speeding ticket” for going 1 mile over the speed limit. But then there are impossible days.

Now the details of this classification of days I cannot disclose publicly, but just know it has a ton to do with offices, tricky officials, never-ending paperwork, processes, oppression because I’m an outsider (for real, it’s not all giggles and open arms just because I’m an American). These days have the power to stop me in my tracks. Paralyzing, almost.

My typical coping pattern for the impossible days goes as follows: race to a certain café here in Lusaka, order a diet coke with ice and some sort of chocolate dessert and eat/drink without speaking a word. Escape into the online world of social media with their super fast (free) internet to pretend such impossible events didn’t just occur. Race home, change into PJs (yes, even if it’s only 2pm), find the nearest chocolate bar and assume the fetal position for X number of hours. There’s usually a really cheesy movie thrown in there, which gives me an excuse to cry and cry, as if I really needed a cover-up from my emotions.

Crazy? Probably. I run, I hide. I (try to) escape and forget. But it always catches back up to me. I don’t think my ritual is totally off, so long as I return to Truth at the core of it all. Just didn’t want y’all to get the impression that I’m somehow superhuman or that I know how to handle all of the crazy that gets thrown at me on the reg. Or that I don’t couple chocolate with negative emotions like the rest of y’all. ;)

I think it all comes down to this tough notion though- that when the train goes barreling off its tracks after a visit to this office or that to further our organization, it seems as if I/CiH am/is not wanted here. It feels as if the people and the country want us out.

Now I thought all of the paperwork madness would subside within the first 6 months, and that people would just LOVE everything we do to proclaim freedom for the vulnerable, but that’s just not reality. Two years later, and the storm rages on.

But when I really stop to think about it, clear of my emotions and such, why would they want CiH/me here? Why would the deep-rooted oppression want to give way to change? Why would people who instill such injustices want people who will stand up for their own dignity and rights? Why would the presence of evil and darkness want hope here?

It should be no surprise. Rather, it should be a compliment to the Kingdom of God at work through Clothed in Hope. There is an entirely, hugely greater story being written here than I will ever be able to perceive or comprehend.

When change is coming- the hope, redemption, restored dignity, freedom, confidence, healing- I don’t think I should expect anything but a storm. Whether through minor discouragement or a season that seems like it’s never-ending, the evil and the darkness of this world will do ANYTHING to derail us from pursuing the life that Jesus has for us and through us to impact others with the testimony He’s written through such storms.

It’s time to reject the negativity, and it’s time to stand in the middle of this storm, hands raised, praising God that He is victorious. He is sovereign. He is fighting on my behalf, and on behalf of 30+ women in our program. He is at work. He is truly and actively proclaiming freedom for the captives and salvation over all people whom He loves so, so much.

I will not be defeated in Jesus’ name. The battle already has a Victor and I belong to Him. The constant setbacks, discouragements, and failures will not keep me from seeing the beauty and goodness of God. I’ve let it blind me for too long, but no longer will they have such power.

I am thankful that I don’t have to fight continually. I don’t have to be brave always. I don’t have to know every next move. I don’t have to know how to handle every situation. I don’t have to have it all together. Because there is grace to be weak. To curl up in a ball (with PJs and chocolate) and wrestle with the injustices and emotions of the moment. To feel on behalf of the oppressed. To mourn, to be sad, to be frustrated. Because right beside me is a loving Father who cares enough to pick me back up. He heals my wounds. He forgives my doubts and fears. He comforts far beyond words.

I am not alone. I am part of a much bigger story. And in Jesus, in His loving, merciful redemption and defeat of darkness, is where I will stand and choose to find my joy. As tough as it is to choose joy, and as easy as it is to wallow, I will feel, I will cry, I will hurt, but then I will rise. It’s not over, not even close. This is really just the beginning.

kites

Kites are my new love language.

I used to feel most loved, most connected to the bigger picture God has for His children when I saw a brilliant sunset. But now that feeling is most evoked by kites.

Not the elaborate canvas ones controlled by a billion strings and ties.

No, rather the opposite.

Seasons are changing here, and a changing of seasons brings windy days. Perhaps the winds before a storm, or just the wind that helps move the clouds out of the way for the sunshine to burst through.

As I drive my little green vehicle into the compound during this season of changing seasons, I look around for the magic. Small children, dusty faces and shoeless feet, scrambling around every gutter and trash pile with their fellow artisans. The biggest smiles and belly laughter mark the sign of the ultimate treasure found: a plastic grocery bag fully intact. Celebration is surely needed for this crucial step. Hands raised in the air and audible cheering, kite production is now beginning. Each child helps another find his or her own bag until the pack of children is walking proudly with bags in hands.

Large bags holding the most prized food staple are the next treasure to be found. One bag is ripped apart by dozens of tiny hands until each child has a strand of plastic strings long enough to fly his kite.

The first steps, marked by sheer excitement and a sense of adventure are calmed for the last and final step: assembly. Those packs of children are seen congregating in gutters or on any free patch of dirt with their plastic bags, plastic strings, and the 2 sticks they acquired along the journey. Hands move quickly, with minds racing for the adventure ahead.

And just like that, the kites are ready.

On these most magical, grace-filled days, winds aren’t seen as bad. The changing of seasons isn’t intimidating. The upcoming storm doesn’t incite fear, but rather opportunity.

And on these days, above the concrete houses, the trash-filled gutters, the dusty roads and the (still) shocking qualities of living, rise the most beautiful, most courageous, most awe-inspiring kites. Meters high in the sky, flapping in the wind, being held and controlled by the happiest and proudest children.

Hope rises above the pain. Joy flies high. Love is on display for all to see. Fear is no match.

And God displays His glory by saying, “My banner over you is LOVE.” (Song of Solomon 2:4).

The bravest, craftiest little souls have opened my eyes to the beauty of God’s love, the grace that can be found in any situation. For that I am so grateful.

In this season of changing seasons, accompanied with strong winds and imminent storms, I will gather my few materials, my little bag, my sticks, my strand of strings, the little I can gather up on my own. And I will catch the wind and fly my kite high. With a smile on my face and joy in my soul, I will fly my kite high above the hardship, far beyond the difficulty.

Because I have a Father whose banner over me is love. 

weak

This morning was oddly cool and breezy. The usually suffocating humidity of rainy season was replaced with a crisp, quiet coolness. It was one of those mornings that (admittedly) I was hoping for a day off for a movie marathon in my jammies. This week has been tough. And if I’m being honest, this entire time since we landed has been tough. The blog post Wyatt and I wrote just a few days ago still stands true though. We’ve found great joy in being here, but we’ve also faced great opposition and difficulty.

As a teacher/boss/contractor/mentor/etc. I don’t often get to be weak. Rather, I don’t choose to be weak. I have to have all the answers. I have to anticipate the next move and make plans. I have to stand tall when things are tough, because so many faces look to me for how to react. This emotion-stuffing way of doing things probably isn’t the healthiest, but I do it here. When I get hollered at by random people, or ripped off, or singled out, I can’t just collapse and cry. My vulnerability would put me in danger. So when things are hard, I choke it up, I keep moving forward, and I “stay strong.”

And this rejection of weakness is what has bonded me with the ladies of Clothed in Hope today.

I walked into the Chikondi Community Center with a heavy heart today. Burdened. Distracted. Sad. But I dared not let it show. Until I felt that every other woman felt the exact same way. The ladies usually dress themselves in smiles, pretending the worries of the world don’t affect them. Today, it was different. The mood was heavy. The ladies hungry for the opportunity to be weak, to take off the mask of false strength. To lay down their burdens.

Fridays are encouragement days, so today followed the same schedule. But today things went a bit differently. Just recently, I placed a Prayer Request jar at the entrance to the center with paper and a pen for women to submit requests anonymously for us to pray over as a group (quite an American concept, actually). For days only my 2 requests sat in there. When we opened the jar today, there were a dozen little folded slips of paper, confessions of burdens, requests for help.

We could all sense the weight that hung in the room today- the discouragement, the effects of oppression, the worries, the fears. And for just one day, we let ourselves be weak. Each little slip of paper was held on tightly by a pair of women who prayed over that request. Whispers turned to loud voices turned to shouts and cries. We chose to stand in the gap and face the throne of God on behalf of our friends, our sisters. We all joined hands, united, with women of the 2 current classes and even women who will enroll in our newest class. We joined hands in a circle, declaring that the space in the middle belonged to Jesus alone. It was there we could empathize, to lay down our burdens and the struggles of our sisters. It was there we could take off our masks of strength that we keep on for so many people in our lives, and expose faces of weakness and fear. It was there we could be completely ourselves without any reservation, knowing we were meeting the very Spirit of God in prayer.

I often share stories of success only, and yes those stories are important and evidence just how God is moving through our program. But what about stories of weakness? Why are we so afraid to be weak? Who do we think we have to impress?

Women shouted out cries for their sisters for financial breakthroughs.

For their children to have college opportunities.

For another house to miraculously become available as their landlord will kick them out tonight.

For God to provide customers to visit their businesses to provide for their families.

For unity with feuding friends.

For physical and spiritual healing from long-term illness.

For financial provision to buy start-up equipment for new business.

For the well being of their children.

For continued funding for our program.

For the compassion of a husband’s bosses in a particular situation.

For health for a mom in a high-risk pregnancy with twins.

For food for the next week.

And the list goes on. Once we all knew that another woman was struggling, we could admit our own struggle. 12 requests turned to 20. Hardness exchanged for beautiful fragility. I then recognized that it is beautiful to be weak. That God celebrated over all of us women holding hands, crying out about what hurts us, what keeps us up at night, what is hard to trust Him with. Because it’s in our weakness that we are completely ourselves before Him, relying on Him alone to meet our needs. Dependency. Brokenness. Surrender. Vulnerability.

I peeked up from our hour of prayer, hand-in-hand with one woman I’ve known for 2 year now, and one I just met today, and I saw something so beautiful.

One dusty face with tears adorning the tops of her cheekbones. The most beautiful of tears. Tears that say, “I am weak, but You are strong.” And tears that respond to hearing Jesus say, “It’s okay, my love. It’s okay. You can be weak.”

-

I just had to rest in that moment. Recognizing that our King was in the room, the Spirit that has the power to rescue, redeem, restore. Our King wasn’t condemning us for our fears or worries. He was meeting us in our weakness to whisper words of grace and incredible love. He was delighting over our brokenness. He was speaking to the hearts of women who are hurting, myself included. 

In that moment, there wasn’t teacher or student, American or Zambian, widow or single mother, employed or unemployed. There was simply the beauty of a community of women seeking our King together. Celebrating our weakness, even if just for a bit.

What’s even better? After we finished our time of prayer and preaching, we danced. We shouted. We laughed. We sang. We danced some more. Because we all knew that something special happened today. We all knew that we just spent some incredible moments before the face of Jesus in a most powerful way. We all saw each others’ weakness, and it didn’t draw comparison or guilt; it empowered. Though things are hard, though the world is tough, though we’re all fighting our own battles, there is a reason to dance and laugh. In our weakness, He is strong. In our doubt, He is steadfast. In our fear, He is faithful. In our running, He pursues.

We all concluded our morning- turned afternoon- with hearts full of joy. Not because everything was solved or the miracles happened on the spot (though God is fully capable). We left joyful because life is difficult YET we have a reason to rejoice. The God of the Universe is on our side. He is inviting us into beautiful weakness. He is pursuing us in our deepest hurts. He is whispering reminders of love and hope when all else seems too difficult.

And that’s surely a reason to rejoice.

Though the fig tree should not blossom,

    nor fruit be on the vines,

the produce of the olive fail

    and the fields yield no food,

the flock be cut off from the fold

    and there be no herd in the stalls,

YET I will rejoice in the Lord;

    I will take joy in the God of my salvation.

God, the Lord, is my strength;

    he makes my feet like the deer's;

    he makes me tread on my high places.

Habbakuk 3:17-19

Why, my soul, are you downcast?

Why so disturbed within me?

Put your hope in God,

for I will YET praise him,

my Savior and my God.

Psalm 42:11

can't

I realize it's been forever since I've last written and I'm sorry for that! Just to catch everyone up, I got married on November 9, the most beautiful day of my life, and am officially Mrs. Amy Woodell Bardi to my wonderful Mr. It's been an exciting, beautiful, crazy, joyful, chaotic past few months.

Just a week and a half before our wedding day, I was curled up in the fetal position in my bed, lights out, with the most massive migraine I've ever experienced. I used to have frequent headaches but nothing like this. I was out for a couple of days. I was frustrated that I couldn't keep going with my tasks for the wedding due to this inconvenience.

I might be pretty good at hiding it sometimes, but I'm a worrier. I crave control to feel at peace. I over-plan. I like my to-do lists, and they quite honestly could be considered an obsession. I like schedules. And I become anxious when my plan, my list, my schedule doesn't quite work out.

So you can imagine my frustration feeling completely helpless with the world's worst migraine right before my wedding.
What if it comes back on November 9 and I can't be in the daylight to even walk down the aisle?
What if I have a new chronic condition?
What if I caused this on myself and can't ever experience freedom from my stress, worrying, anxiety, etc.?

Yes, those were my real thoughts, no exaggerations whatsoever. I choose fear over faith sometimes. I overanalyze. I think I can control the uncontrollable.

But since that day, I've began to realize that I can't. 

I live in a world that tells me that I can be perfect, I can do it all: I can manage a successful business, I can be the best friend, wife, daughter, etc., I can work 24 hours a day and still get my 8 hours of healthy sleep and I can work out and eat healthy and craft and cook the perfect made-from-scratch dinners. I can save now to be rich later. I can make a 20-year plan to the last detail. I can self-manage, self-motivate, self-improve. I can do anything. Right?

I can't.
I can't be the perfect bride, free of migraines and stress.
I can't create more hours in each day.
I can't cook without a recipe.
I can't do 99% of what's posted on Pinterest.
I can't be the best friend to 50 people, much less 15.
I can't arrange pinecones in a hurricane vase to decorate our first home for Christmas.
I can't create cleaning solutions from scratch.
I can't always do my best with my work.
I can't raise $100,000 to grow Clothed in Hope.
I can't look perfectly pulled together every day.
I can't self-improve, no matter how hard I try.
I can't tell you where we'll be in 6 months, forget about 20 years.
I can't organize as well as I'd like.
I can't curb my obsession with Target.
I can't always love and respect my husband as I should.
I can't sustain my faith in Jesus by my own efforts, or lack thereof somedays.
I can't change the lives of 23 women in Zambia.
I can't always live by faith.
I can't catch up on my reading list, that's supposedly aimed to self-motivate, self-improve, self-etc.
I can't keep dust from collecting on every surface.
I can't support raise enough for my imaginary 20-year plan.
I can't go a day without having a negative thought and/or reaction (usually and).
I can't find time to do every Christmas thing I was hoping to do this season.
I can't overcome sin patterns in my life.

I just can't.

Anyone with me on this one?

I dare to say that I'm not alone. So overwhelmed by can'ts that I often find myself stuck in them. The world tells me that I can do it all, then tricks me into taking a bite of that apple. I then find myself trapped in guilt, shame, insecurity, failure that I couldn't do it. It's like a game that I've played for far too many days of my life.

But since that migraine, tides are changing. Slowly, but surely.

God's grace is in the can't.
God's provision is in the can't.
God's joy is in the can't.
Because only in the "I can't" do I see that He can.
He can. He will. He is. 

It's not up to me. He doesn't demand my perfection. His love for me is based on absolutely nothing I can or will ever do. His love for me is absolute, more unconditional than we can ever comprehend.

God doesn't care that my cooking is B+ at best. God doesn't care if I don't finish my to-do list most days. Because He cares about me. He cares about people. He cares about hearts.
Only when my soul is brought low, humbled, can I look up to see His sovereignty, His strength, His trustworthiness, His love, His compassion, His ability. That He can.
The pressure is off. The weight lifted. There is FREEDOM.


"But He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong."