tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12737576335938244372024-03-25T12:27:02.858-07:00SafariThese are the stories, experiences and rants of a Michigan native living and working as a missionary in Rwanda. Welcome to my life. The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.comBlogger165125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-37595748028519698722015-11-30T01:42:00.000-08:002015-11-30T01:46:05.383-08:00A long story...<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">If I told you that this season was nothing but good, it would be possibly the biggest lie ever. This season (meaning 23 June - 7 December) has been hard, awful, unbearable, incredible, stretching, amazing and invaluable. It has been a time of constant conflict. Loving the school, loving the clinic, but hating that I was so far away from the man God gave me. Loving the friendships and also struggling to have patience and love for those around me. Hearing God, crying on my knees while at the same time celebrating Him and His work. Being so excited for my future wedding and future life while missing him so much it affected my physical body. Constant conflict. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">During these few months I have studied harder than I have before, I’ve had to stand up for what was right (even when it was hard), I’ve had to run to Jesus when I have nothing left. I’ve fought the feelings of homesick and had to pull myself together when all I wanted to do was jump on a plane to Rwanda. I’ve mourned the loss of my grandfather - that alone was a interesting, difficult and stretching experience. The feeling that comes when you hear your grandfather is on his death bed and you will never see him again, that was tough. It made me to think back to the last time I saw him. Did I tell him that I love him? Did I tell him how much I value him in my life? Did I make the most of that visit, even though I didn’t know it would be my last? Trying to do my best to be loving and comforting to my family from miles away, while processing and mourning on my own - it’s an incredibly strange and difficult thing. With that on top of missing Eric way too much - it literally took the hand of God to keep me from changing my flight and just going home. Also, I got malaria. That meant about a week in bed, feeling to awful to do anything but watch movies, cry, sleep and vomit. Fun times. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">I wish I could say things got easier when I went on outreach to Togo, but it didn’t. I loved, absolutely loved, working in the clinic. The YWAM Noepe family is absolutely amazing. But I missed home, I was just ready to go home. The internet connection was awful. In that nine week period, I think Eric and I had a quality connection once. Through this I learned that leaving your fiancé after being engaged for two weeks is hard - duh. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">The biggest challenge came literally two days before my team and I left Togo. On Tuesday morning, Ami came in for a pre-natal consultation. She was full term and ready to deliver any moment. Baby had a strong heart beat and was in a good position. As we finished up, I prayed for her and let her know to come back whenever she was in labour. Later that day, she came back - in labour. It wasn’t my turn on labour and delivery. But, when I couldn’t find any of my team or other midwives, I stopped by the delivery room to see if I could help in anyways. I walked in and saw three others from my team and two midwives. Ami was on her hands in knees, in agony. They room stank of sweat, poop and various other things. Everyone was sweating profusely. As I looked closer, I saw the problem - the baby was mostly out but the head was stuck. Somehow, baby had moved from his good position in the womb and became breach (when legs come out first, instead of the head). Because he came out almost diagonally, his chin was now stuck in moms pelvis. I quickly jumped in as three of us held her up and prayed with all we had in us. By this time, baby had been like this for nearly an hour and mom was exhausted. She was in absolute agony and becoming delirious. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">We prayed, and prayed and prayed. We did our best to make her comfortable, we didn’t complain when she hit us, we did everything we could possibly do. Just when mom’s strength was gone, she gave one more good push and the head came out. Through all our tears and sweat we took a moment and looked that the baby - a handsome boy. He had probably been dead for sometime, but we felt for a heart beat, for breaths - for any sign of life. We found nothing. Members of my team began cleaning him up and wrapping him in fabric while the midwife began to clean up the mom, the bed and the surrounding area. Soon, everyone left with the baby, leaving just me and the midwife in the room. Ami grabbed my hand and pulled me next to her on the bed and just began to weep. As I sat there with her, her sweaty head on my lap, the tears came rolling down my face. I prayed over her while asking God why. I thanked Him for her life while incredibly confused as to why He didn’t save this baby. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">This experience was probably one of the most traumatic things I have ever experienced. It affected me in a way I never expected. My heart broke, physically hurt, for this woman. This was her third child to die, in addition to two miscarriages. It hurt to think of what might be happening in her. She was physically and emotionally exhausted. She was broken, disappointed and I’m sure angry and confused. As was I. I told myself the cliche (but true) statements of “God has a plan”, “God is still good”. But I couldn’t understand why. I didn’t want to deal with it, because I knew it would bring a time of crying out to God that would be less than fun and easy. Finally, about a week later, I hashed it out with God. It took a lot of tears and a lot of yelling. But finally I gained peace and a concussion: God is good. God is God. I don’t need to understand why He does what He does. He loves that baby, He loves that mamma - passionately, furiously. He is good. Bottom line. I don’t need to know more. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">This season has taught me so much. I have seen God in new ways. I have heard Him speak life changing things. I have seen Him equip me to do things I never imagined (like getting A’s on every exam and delivering babies). I saw and experienced His love in such an unbelievable way. I’ve seen His character is permanent - He won’t fail. I’ve realized how He is such a good Father who gives incredible gifts. While this season has been so hard, awful at times and seemed pointless - it’s been a season for me and Jesus. A season where He’s shown up big time and set me straight. He’s shown me His heart in such a beautiful way. I can honestly say that at the end of this season: I love Eric more. I love my life more. I love Africa more. I love the Lord even more. And, I’ve never been more excited for the life that’s ahead of me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><b>Also... </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">If you would like to continue to keep up with what’s happening in mine and Eric’s lives, follow my new blog:<a href="http://joanna-hammar.tumblr.com/"><b><u>joanna-hammar.tumblr.com</u></b></a>.I began The Path To Africa when I was praying and dreaming up my life in Africa. Seeing as I have been living in Rwanda for almost three years, I felt it was now time to start a new blog: one that just talks about my life as a missionary, Jesus follower and soon, a wife<b>. </b></span><br />
<br />The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com70tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-24108009174052013952015-08-19T11:41:00.002-07:002015-08-19T11:57:28.728-07:00A call to action...Tonight I got a message from a dear woman in Rwanda. She is one of the most amazing people I have had the pleasure of ever meeting. Anyways, she ended the message with the Kinyarwanda word "ihangane". And I didn't have a clue what this word meant, hey I'm still learning Kinyarwanda. So, I googled it. And if Google is correct, it means "to be patient". And this ministered to my heart in such a special way. Because, if I am honest, I have not been patient. Mostly in the area of finances.<br />
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Honestly, I am worried. I’m scared. I feel overwhelmed and have just the slightest hint of hopelessness. And the reason for it all seems so small, so simple and so minute yet like a mountain at the same time. Money. That’s all it is. Just money. <br />
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See, I just found out that I need to get nearly $3,000 by 10 September. That’s less than a month away. I don’t have that, nowhere close. In order to finish my school and do my outreach in Togo, I need to seemingly pull $3,000 out of thin air. But how? <br />
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I’m getting married next year. A wedding costs money. A wedding dress costs money. And then, it would be nice to have a house to live and food to cook for my husband. But, we don’t have it. I’m scared. I live on support, it’s not like I can just pick up a second job. He also lives on support because our Father has called us to the missionary life. And while at times it can be overwhelmingly amazing, it can, at other times be, overwhelmingly stressful. Especially in the area of finances. In a matter of only month, our financial needs will about double as we go from two to one but with two mouths to feed. But, how? <br />
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See, I know the typical answers, and I believe it. God is faithful. God will provide. He knows our needs. All of that is true. But sometimes, just sometimes, it’s hard to firmly grasp to that. It’s hard to hold so tightly to that that theres no room for fear, stress or worry. It’s hard to talk about my need with a smile and firmly believe it with every fiber of my being when I say “God is faithful”.<br />
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But even if I doubt. Even I have mental breakdowns. Even when I’m ready to get the cheapest wedding dress I can find, even if I don't love it, just because it’s cheap. And even if I wonder if I, if we, are doing things in the right timing…God is faithful. He promises to care for his children. He takes joy over lavishing gifts on his children. He tells us over and over to calm down, to not be afraid and to give it all to him. Why? Because <b>HE IS FAITHFUL</b>. <br />
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Something I’ve learned is that he is so faithful. And while I may freak out, cry and cry out to him, begging him to perform a miracle, he always does it. I just get this impression he has a big smirk on his face. Imagine a father and a young child. This child’s birthday is coming up. There is a certain toy that he just loves. He begs his daddy for it over and over and over again. And every time his dad just says “Oh? Ok.” and the father get’s a smirk. Sometimes he throws in a “Just wait.” Or a “I know what you want/need”. But what the son doesn’t know is that the father has already gotten him his birthday gift; that toy that he has been begging for. So every time the child begs for it, the smirk comes to the fathers face because he knows that he’s already gotten it for him. He knows, and he is so excited to give this gift to his son. But there is a surprise. Not only is the father giving his son what he has asked for, but he is giving him even more. Why? Because he is a father who loves to lavish gifts upon his children. <br />
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God has been showing me this picture lately. And sometimes that little smirk on his face can seem evil and flat out rude. But it’s a smirk that says<b> “My daughter, just wait…it’s coming. And it’s going to blow your socks off. Be patient”</b> Ok, be patient. Got it. I am trying to be patient. But it’s rough. So rough. But yet I know, when he comes through, when he gives me that gift, it will blow me away…<i>so I am patiently waiting.</i> <br />
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And that brings me to the slightly uncomfortable part of this post. Asking for money. I am not begging, I am not trying to guilt you into giving, nor am I only posting this to get money. I am simply sharing my needs and asking you to pray with me. <br />
So, as you know I have been studying primary health care in South Africa for the past two months. <br />
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And in one month, my team and I head out on our outreach. We’re going to Togo! I am so excited for outreach! We get to help people in a physical and spiritual way. I get to tend to the body as well as the heart. Guys, peoples lives are going to be changed! And I hope I am equally impacted by these two months in Togo!<br />
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However, outreach is not cheap!<b> I need roughly $2,500 by 10 September</b> (yup, I know it’s soon) in order to cover my outreach fee’s. This money will cover my flights, food, accommodation and any other expenses while traveling or in Togo. So, I am throwing out a challenge, a call to action, if you will. <br />
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Will you pray with me? Will you pray about giving towards my expenses? If <b>100 </b>people each gave <b>$25,</b> my fee’s would be covered! Whether you feel led to give $5 or $1000, your donation makes a big difference. <br />
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I would like to challenge you to act. Whether that's an act of getting on your knees, or pulling out your wallet. <u>What will you do? </u><br />
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<b>And to make this even easier... <a href="http://www.gofundme.com/joanna-iphc" target="_blank">Donate now! </a></b><u> </u>The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-58846586898556783932015-08-15T08:14:00.002-07:002015-08-15T08:14:29.223-07:00A little bit of life...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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And here is a little bit of my life lately. Over the past seven weeks I have been overloaded with information, given up weekends and almost all free time in order to study. I have had near mental breakdowns induced by stress, anxiety, lack of sleep and going stir crazy. I have had the joy of getting to know my great team (check out the first pic below) and have had so much time to research wedding things on Pinterest. </div>
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So, here are some pics from my life lately. About two weeks ago, me and some lovely people ran away to the ocean. It was my first time seeing the ocean in person! And not only did I see one, but I saw two - the Indian and Atlantic Oceans! The Cape of Good Hope is one of the southernmost points of the continent of Africa and were the two oceans meet. It was fantastic! </div>
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And after this wonderful day, I was ready to get back to work. Which was quite fortunate because the last two weeks have been super intense! </div>
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On a more personal note, I need prayer guys! </div>
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In a not so wordy or fancy way of saying it, I need money. Smooth, huh? Well, it's true. For outreach, I need about $2,500 more. So guys, I'm asking you guys to pray with me! Pray for peace as I wait on God. Pray for people to be led to give. Pray for my time to get all the funds we need. We only have a month until we head for Togo to see be used in lives being changed! </div>
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Thanks for your support! </div>
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If you want to give, you can do so online: <a href="http://www.gofundme.com/joanna-iphc">www.gofundme.com/joanna-iphc</a> </div>
<br />The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-24849552559214942372015-07-14T05:53:00.002-07:002015-07-14T05:53:40.411-07:00A little bit of life. If you have been up to date on whats been going on in my life, you know that it has been a great season. Great ministry moments, a visit from my family and friends from my home church and of course, getting engaged to an incredible man who reflects Jesus better than anyone else I have ever met. And, in the midst of those incredible blessings, I have been preparing myself to come to South Africa to study medical care.<br />
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The process to get to this school has been rough. Fundraising was slow, the visa process agrevating, fearing that I wouldn't be able keep up and do well in classes, and the idea of leaving Rwanda and Eric seemed like the hardest thing. And honestly, I almost gave up on coming multiple times. I kept pushing it back in my mind, instead of preparing to come. Soon, it was a week before my flight to Johannesburg and it became real - I was leaving Rwanda for 5 1/2 months. And soon I was on a flight to Cape Town, ready to jump into this new season.<br />
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But the crazy (and amazing) thing is this: I know I am exactly where I need to be. I've been in South Africa for about 3ish weeks now, and its been challenging. I already miss Rwanda, I miss my fiance (and, I really like calling him that! =D ), it's cold in Worcester, the food is different, class is intense, there are exams and homework - many things that I'm just so not used to. But yet I feel peace. I feel Jesus closer than I have in a long time. And I have a expectancy on the Lord like never before.<br />
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Guys, Jesus is up to something! This school may be intense and rough, I may miss Eric like crazy and I may want to cry over the fact that I won't see him until December, but... I KNOW my Daddy has something up His sleeve. Maybe he'll show me during lecture phase, maybe he'll wait until outreach, I don't know. But already, I hear his voice. I feel him pulling me in while whispering "Just wait. Come closer...watch!" And I am captive! I am ready to see what he will do! I am ready to be used, to be molded and to be changed by the Lord. He is so incredible! <br />
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On another note, enjoy these photo's...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The IPHC team! (L to R: Me, Meghan, Micah and Tutu). We built a tippy tap, a way to have running water for hand washing in a village setting. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had a bonfire! (Photo Credit to Meghan Brooks)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Myself, Luke - a DTS student, and Micah (Photo credit to Meghan Brooks)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The veiw in Worcester.</td></tr>
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<br />The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-76581209965849698132015-06-11T09:01:00.000-07:002015-06-11T23:54:21.550-07:00My favourite story...<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
The following is a story, maybe one of my favourite stories, so far. Grab a cup of coffee or tea, get comfy and get ready for a crazy (and probably long) story of how awesome Jesus is. </div>
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Without giving away too much of the ending, this story in it’s fullness somehow starts in November of 2013. I remember sitting under the stars in the Eastern province of Rwanda and hearing God speak. He said some crazy awesome stuff that seemed to good to be true. This is a story of how it all came/is coming to pass. I didn’t believe He was actually speaking at the time, I thought I was making it up. And, I forgot much of it until almost a year later. </div>
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Earlier in 2013, my DTS team of 14 crazy, international and amazing people got on a bus headed to South Sudan. But first, we would stop in Kampala, Uganda. When we reached to Kampala at like 5am, a man came up to me as I was getting off the bus. He asked if he could take my bag and then proceeded to take my bag. Although, I didn’t know who this guy was, so I told him no. But still, he’s taking my bag. And just before I was about to punch this random guy in the face, I learn that this “stranger” is in fact our contact person and host for our time in South Sudan. Oops. </div>
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The next day, we continue on our journey. The stranger/host is traveling with us and I try to avoid him, hoping to keep myself from further embarrassment. As we travel, I open my Bible attempting to read. And while it was open for maybe an hour, I only read like one sentence. But, stranger/host see’s my open Bible and then calls me a Bishop and carries on about my holiness for like an hour. I remember thinking something like “I don’t know who this dude is, but he is insane”. </div>
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Over the next weeks in South Sudan, I begin to see who stranger/host really is. I see he is Rwandese but left Kigali to serve in the bush bush. I see he is devoted to this village and passionate about these people knowing Jesus. I saw him serve us in every possible way. Including somehow finding coffee for us. I saw that he was crazy, funny and loved people. I learned he was a morning person and enjoyed greeting the morning through song (at like 5am every morning…ew). </div>
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But even seeing all these good things, I kept my distance. I didn’t take time to know him super well and doubted I would ever have real contact with him again. </div>
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After leaving South Sudan, I occasionally saw stranger/host. We talked a tiny bit here and there and became friends, but distant ones at that. However, I felt like I knew him so well because he is well known and loved among YWAM Rwanda. He was often talked about, prayed for (for his ministry, of course. However, it was always accompanied with a prayer for a wife…every time). I stayed in touch with him through our few short conversations and through mutual friends. </div>
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Fast forward to October of 2014. After serving in South Sudan and Uganda for about 8 years, God called him back home to Kigali to be studying at a theology school. After his arrival, we had more conversations, but still my friendship with stranger/host was distant. In November of the same year, we decided to catch up over dinner. That dinner blew me away. </div>
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I’ve always this sort of fear of guys. When I was left to talk with a guy (alone), i would feel nervous and never felt like myself. However, with him, I was totally comfy and 100% myself. We caught up over Chinese food and really had a great time reconnecting. But what happened next, I never, ever, saw coming. </div>
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That night, as I was arriving home, one of my friends was also arriving. (We live on a compound, nothing sketchy here…don’t worry). When he found out were I was, the jokes began. “You and him would be such a great couple!”, “Jojo, think about it! Why not?”. I quickly defended myself with answers of “He’s a great guy, but no. I just don’t feel that way about him”. But that night, as I was walking in my room, there was a voice that said “It’s him. That’s the one you’ll marry”. This left me standing in front of my door and jaw on the ground. All I could do was mumble a “Whhhaaaaa?????”. </div>
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In the following days, the stranger/host began talking to me more. I found myself excited for his messages, or phone call. About a week later, he asked if we could meet again. In that short time, I found myself thinking of him often. In like 6 days, I had gone from no feelings at all to the beginning of stages of feelings. I prayed and felt peace like never before. I was excited, giddy, confused and amazed all at the same time. </div>
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When we went to dinner that time, confessions of feelings were made. First from him, then from me. The things I wanted to say, he said first. We talked about visions, plans and hopes for our lives (separately) - but they matched. And really, his name is Eric and in this short time time, he was becoming on my favourite people on the planet. </div>
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A few days later, we went out again. And this dinner was the first confirmation. He asked me what my favourite movie was. I began with my usual disclaimer: “Ok, I know it’s really stupid and many people don’t like it, but I love it and find it hilarious. Ok, so there’s this friar who cooks for orphans in Mexico but wants to be a luchador…” And then, Eric interrupts… “Is it Nacho Libre?” My jaw drops. He not only has seen it, but he begins talking about the characters, by name. My jaw is now on the floor. So he’s seen it, he knows it, and…he likes it! Then, we had a conversation about the deeper themes of Nacho Libre. </div>
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And I know to most sane people, this would be just a random conversation. But for me, it was a confirmation that this guy would be in my life, for good. </div>
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So now, maybe you’re wondering why the long story of the stranger named Eric who turned to be a fav? Well let me tell you…</div>
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<b>That man is now my fiancé. Thats, right, I am marrying the the man I thought was crazy and almost punched in the face! Good story huh? </b></div>
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Over the past seven months, I have had the privilege of getting to know this man. I’ve gotten to see him worship and serve our Saviour. I’ve gotten to see his sense of humour, his kind heart, his love for people and Jesus. And…his love for Nacho Libre (scoring major Joanna points there!) In the last seven months, I have developed a love for this man that I never thought could be possible. Our relationship was not normal by Rwandese or American standards. It was faster than many but slower than some. It was kept quiet for a long time (because thats the Rwandese way) but since the beginning, I’ve wanted to scream it to everyone I met. Through those seven months, I have seen promises of God being fulfilled. </div>
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On June 5 2015 (also, my mom’s birthday), he got on one knee and asked me to be his wife. And through fits of laughter and giggles , I agreed (even though I don’t remember giving and audible answer). I knew this question was coming, I knew he would someday be my husband but when it actually happened, I was shocked, giggly and speechless. And it’s still setting in…I get to marry a man who is madly in love with me and our Saviour. I get to spend my life with him, do ministry beside him and watch Nacho Libre with him for the rest of my life. I am over the moon and cannot stop smiling! </div>
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Our story blows me away when I think about it. We had both been broken before. We both doubted if we would ever find someone to love. I had experiences that seemed to say it would never happen. But in all of those things God spoke, He had a plan. And now, we see what He was doing in those experiences and less then perfect seasons. And after going through those things, waiting for our “One’s”, praying and still having no one, God brought us together in a way that only He can. </div>
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So, dear ones, be encouraged. Maybe you’ve never had a relationship, maybe you’ve had many. Maybe you’ve had those less than perfect seasons, or been hurt and used or just disappointed in how that area of your life is…keep seeking Jesus, pay attention when he speaks. When He says something amazing, believe Him and remember it. He has plans, way beyond what we can imagine. And in the end, once you catch a glimpse of His plan, you wouldn't want it any other way. </div>
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The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-6573357421003386042015-04-12T12:17:00.002-07:002015-04-12T12:17:45.789-07:00Seeing with new eyes. Yesterday, I experience Rwanda in a new way. In my last two years here, I've slowly learned more and more about the genocide. I've met many people and heard their stories of how their life was ripped a part in 1994. Many of those people, I have come to dearly love have lost so much. Many people may have the mindset of "That was 21 years ago, come on, just move on". Even I have had that same mindset. But let me ask you this:<br />
If you lost your mother, father, brother, sister, aunts, uncles and friends - could you just move on? If you saw people brutally beaten, raped and murdered (your loved ones or complete strangers) - could you just move on? If your home was robbed and burned - could you just move on? If you were a target simply because of your ethnicity - could you just move on? If you were attacked by someone from your same country, but who refused to see you as a human - could you just move on? If you had to see the children and grandchildren of those who took your everything from you - could you just move on?<br />
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When I think about it that way, when I put myself in their shoes, my answer would be no. I can't imagine loosing everything and everyone, just because of my ethnicity. The genocide was based on an ethnic cleansing. Victim and perpetrator were both Rwandese. They worked together, lived close together, they were friends and some even family. But on 7 April 1994, people were separated by ethnicity, they were beaten, raped and thousands were killed. So, how do you just move on from that?<br />
This last week has been a week of memorial's here in Rwanda. Everyday, most shops and business's close and people attend community meetings. They remember those who were killed, they remember what the country has become in the past 21 years, and they thanked God for His hand and provision. Yesterday, I was able to attend a memorial.<br />
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Ndera, just outside of Kigali, was deeply impacted by the genocide. Many people seeking refuge gathered inside a Catholic church. The Priest promised them their safety. However, massacre occurred, and the Priest played his role in it. Today, the church still stands and marks the horror of the massacre. The memorial began there. There were prayers, singing and laying flowers at the mass grave. Soon, we all walked just down the road. This site was another mass grave. The one I was with had family buried in those graves. There were more prayers and a choir led the group in song. The songs were slow, somber sounding and set the mood for the occasion: sorrow. We laid flowers on the graves in memory of those lost. As the choir continued, we proceeded to walk through the underground, mass grave. Sobs filled the crowd. And not just sobs, cries of agony and pain. It was the most sorrowful sound I had ever heard. I myself began to sob, my heart ached for those who were there to remember their loved ones, and my heart began to fill with pain and anger.<br />
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I'm not Rwandese. I wasn't here in 1994. In fact, in 1994, I had no idea what was going on in the nation that would eventually become my home. It wasn't until 2013 that I began to learn about the terror of the genocide. I've met people who are still in pain - both emotionally and physically. As I've grown to love so many here, it's starting to feel like I've also loved ones. As Rwanda becomes my home, I feel pain that my nation went through the terror of Genocide. The longer I stay here, the more fervently I pray over this nation, the more I proclaim miracles, God's goodness and hope over this nation - the more I love Rwanda and it's people. And again, I know I am not Rwandese, but I'm starting to feel Rwandese. I'm starting to feel like it was my people who were killed 21 years ago and I feel like it's my nation that God is transforming.<br />
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So, to my beautiful Rwandese people - I am sorry. And when I say that, I mean it with all my heart. I'm sorry my country didn't intervene to spare the lives of your loved ones. I'm deeply pained and incredibly sorry that your nation was ripped apart based on the idea of some people being better than others. I'm sincerely sorry that you lost so much. And I am heartbroken for the wounds you still nurse. Please know that I love you and your nation with all my heart. Know that I pray for you everyday- for your healing, for your hope and for the future of your nation.<br />
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And to my fellow Americans and people other than Rwandese, get on your knee's! Not just for Rwanda, but terrors similar to the genocide are still taking place. They don't take place in our nation, so we forget. Nations are being ruined, families are being ripped apart and eliminated. Get on your knees for the Lord to work miracles. Pray for the nations who've experienced genocide and other atrocities, even if it was 20+ years ago. Pray for healing, restoration and hope.<br />
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One of my dear friends, one of the wisest men I've had the honour to know, spoke these words that are written below. <b>Pray for hope! </b><br />
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<b>"During the genocide, we lived today to die tomorrow. </b></div>
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<b>Now, we can live today and have hope for tomorrow."</b></div>
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Also, if you want to know more about the genocide, check out the film "Sometimes in April". It is one of the more accurate films capturing bits of the genocide. </div>
The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-45628478757072259522015-03-13T00:56:00.003-07:002015-03-13T00:59:15.925-07:00This is my week. <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
The last days, I have been on a roller coaster. But the past month, has been like a smaller, slightly less intense, gradual roller coaster. So first, you need some basic info.</div>
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For about a month now, I have been totally and completely exhausted. I feel sick off and on. I am super busy. That business is because I work and live both in Kigali and in a village. Half the time I am here, half the time there. So, most weekends I am working or traveling. I am preparing to go to South Africa for six months for a school and I have some responsibilities here on base - one of which is to be sort of a mentor to two great girls. </div>
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Now, the craziness of the past few days all has to do with a visa. The word alone could make me run away screaming. I needed to apply for a study visa for South Africa. Here is the story of my attempt. </div>
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So, applying for a study visa seemed simple. Get papers, flights, insurance and making sure everything in order - simple, right? Nope. I wanted to apply asap so that I would have my visa in time. With only about 3 months remaining, there was no time to spare. </div>
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However, my plans sort of hit a wall on Tuesday night. During a causal conversation about my plan of attack on my visa, I heard these words “Oh, the South African embassy in Kigali closed. You have to apply in Kampala”. (In case you don’t know, Kampala is in Uganda, and about a 10 hour bus trip from Kigali.). Hearing these words were enough to make me want to cry.</div>
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The next day, I did some investigating, just to be sure. And it was confirmed, in order to apply for my visa, I would need to take that 10 hour bus trip to Uganda, and then it would take 8 weeks for my visa to be processed, then - once processed, I would have to take the same 10 hour bus trip to pick it up. While this was so not ideal, I went forward. I spent my day frantically getting everything together, making plans, putting everything else in life on hold until this was taken care of. </div>
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However, my plans soon hit another wall. A dear friend of mine asked me a question that sent me onto another roller coaster - “Won’t you have to leave your visa in Uganda to apply”. This question, though I’m glad she asked, made me stress even more. If I had to leave my passport in Uganda, I wouldn’t be able to cross the boarder back into Rwanda. I do not want to stay in Uganda for 8 weeks. So, the next morning, I called the embassy in Kampala to find the answer to this question. The answer caused my heart to sink and the tears to flow. </div>
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Yes, I would have to leave my passport. After further questioning, I found out that actually, I can’t even apply in Uganda (because I don’t have a resident visa). So where would I apply? Good ole U.S. of A. Not that I am against a visit home, but this news caused the tears to flow like Niagra Falls. I began to think if it was possible to go to the U.S. at this point - $1500+ for flights, $100 to apply for the visa, 10 days for it to be processed, and cost of going to Chicago and back to apply and pick it up = not seeming like it’s possible. So I cried. And cried. And got angry. And questioned God - I felt so sure that this is what I should do. </div>
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Once I felt composed, I came into my office with my co-workers. They asked what I found out. And then, the tears came back. (I’m honestly not that much of a crier, but I am exhausted and therefore, have emotions like a 13 year old girl). After a hug, some words of encouragement and some prayer, I was feeling better. Still, completely disappointed, confused, annoyed but yet felt some hope. Maybe it would be ok to stay in Rwanda.</div>
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So, I began to change my plans. I cancelled my flights (which thankfully, I had booked less than 24 hours prior, so I got the full refund), I contacted my family and the school in South Africa. I talked to a few more people, informing them of my rough morning. They offered suggestions of what to do, words of condolences and words of encouragement. What happened next is something that only Jesus could do. </div>
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My Daddy showed off his love for me. I got an email from my school telling me that I could simply come on a tourist visa,good for three months - as long as we left S.A. for outreach. So that was it, I’m still going to South Africa! </div>
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These days have been totally crazy. Yesterday alone, I was in about 57 different moods, all before noon! And, my Daddys goodness didn’t end there. Throughout the day, people were speaking words of encouragement - all on the same topic. Two people shared the same verse with me (Isaiah 43:10, go read it. Actually, read the whole chapter). Someone told me she woke up in the middle of the night and prayed for me. Her middle of the night would have been my morning - about the time I was crying like a baby. Over and over, I felt my Father whispering sweet words in my ear. </div>
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<b>“ I love you. I have good plans for you. Don’t worry, I am in control! In every twist and turn, in every joy and disappoint - I am there and I never change. Come to me, always run to me.”</b></div>
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So friends, let me tell you this - God is<b> good</b>. So good that there are no words to fully explain it. He is <b>constant</b>. He is <b>faithfu</b>l. He is <b>love</b>. </div>
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ALSO...I need your help to get to South Africa! If you would like to help with my school fee's or travel expenses, go to <a href="http://gofundme.com/joanna-iphc">gofundme.com/joanna-iphc</a>. Thanks! </div>
The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-35476377385689867032015-03-03T06:13:00.002-08:002015-03-03T06:13:23.279-08:00Confessions of a missionary. <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
Confessions of an American missionary living in Rwanda. </div>
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I love Rwanda, more than I ever thought possible to love a country not my own. Honestly, Rwanda feels more like my country than America ever did. I love that I get to live here and experience so many new things. However, there are so many differences than life in the U.S. And, no matter how much you adapt, your natural culture (meaning the culture that you were born and raised in) always seems to make it’s way out in everything. </div>
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So here we go, confessions of a missionary. All inspired/thought of while hanging out in a village for two weeks. </div>
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<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"></span>A bit strange, but honestly kind of love that I live in a culture where it’s totally ok to pick your nose in public. Some may find this gross, but when it’s hot, dry and dusty, sometimes you just gotta pick it. </li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"></span>There is always time for tea, and I love it. However, I find the response that comes with the suggestion taking bread with no tea hilarious. It’s like you’ve just suggested to drive a car with no steering wheel. Oh, the look on peoples faces. </li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"></span>Kinyarwanda is sort of a crazy language. Somedays, I feel confident in my speaking and understanding ability. Other days, it seems I have forgotten everything and am unable to comprehend even the most common greeting. </li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"></span>In Rwanda, when it rains, everything stops. When I first came to Rwanda, this drove me insane. Now, I love it. It means time to rest, to hang out with people and maybe even have a cup of tea. </li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"></span>While in a village, and the only mzungu/non-kinyarwanda speaking person, I tend to play games to entertain myself. Some of these games are guessing games. These include “Guess that noise: goat or child?” or “Why is my foot brown? Dirt line or tan line?”. The second game usually ends in the sad realisation that it is only dirt and not a tan. Other games include counting games. As a foreigner in a village, there are so many things to count </li>
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<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"></span>How many times someone says “Hallelujah” or “Amen” in church</li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"></span>How many times you hear the word Mzunugu in one day </li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"></span>How many children sneak up behind you, just to touch your skin</li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"></span>How many times you hear “Eh, you know Kinyarwanda?” just because you greeted someone in Kinyarwanda</li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"></span>How many times you are asked if you're married. </li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"></span>How many times mzungu and amafaranga (kinyarwanda word for money) are mentioned in the same sentence. </li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"></span>How many times does a visitor come to the house during a meal. This one happens nearly three times a day, about 6 days a week. </li>
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<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"></span>I love that I live in a country where I can have amazing, fresh fruit year round. Fruit that someone from Michigan can only dream of. Banana, mango, pineapple, passion fruit, papaya - only the best. </li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"></span>I really do love kids, honestly. However, it’s not so enjoyable having a mob of children around me when I’m simply trying to buy groceries in the market. And honestly, I began to strategically plan my trips to the market. Mzungu in the market at the same time as kids leave school - crazy mob time. </li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"></span>I’m learning to truly love village life. It’s quiet, involves walking - a lot, it involves more work. But, I love community. I love walking to the market and meeting people on the way that know and remember me. I love the simplicity of village life. </li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"></span>I also truly enjoy the city. Where I can easily find a moto, I can go for a cup of coffee, I can go out with friends, I can go to an English church service and…have electricity. </li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"></span>Food. Good stuff, different that I’ve grown up with but really do enjoy it. And, even foods that I hated when I first came, are now becoming favourites. Cassava, issombe and ugali (both from maize and cassava flour) are current examples of this. </li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"></span>I am quite fortunate to live in a country with no incredibly strange foods. I’ve heard stories of missionaries in foreign countries who are offered and accept strange things - animals, plants, milk mixed with blood, etc. While I have eaten some strange things (nothing to crazy, just rat, ants and a worm - nothing crazy), they have been by choice. Never a situation where someone offers it to me as a gift. However, these past two weeks, I had an experience. And it’s somehow humorous. My two team members and I visited an old woman. She so sweetly gave us cassava and milk. I like cassava. Milk isn’t too strange. However, I hate milk. The taste, the smell and what it does to me after. Gross. Anyways, these precious old lady puts this milk in front of me. She was so proud to give us what she had and was an incredibly cute gesture. However, I had a dilemma. Do I drink it? Do I leave it? My team members teased me about it, knowing I hate milk. However, I felt guilty, so I took a drink. And I know this makes me a horrid person and terrible missionary but a line from Napoleon Dynamite popped into my head: “It tastes like this cow go into an onion patch”. </li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"></span>One day, I woke up with a giant red, swollen spot on my leg. It was itchy and painful. Should I have seen a doctor? Maybe. Instead, I poked it and played with it. I may or may not have also experienced an upset stomach, dizziness and fatigue. Maybe it was connected, maybe it wasn’t. Oh well, better now. And this is a common experience - strange spots showing up, strange sicknesses but no doctor visits. But whatever, I’m still alive. </li>
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The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-11647807779477474432015-02-12T09:22:00.001-08:002015-02-12T22:23:39.530-08:00Thought of the day. The following blog post is a real and authentic account of my life lately. I mean no offence to any parties involved. I still love Rwanda. I still love being a missionary. I still love my coworkers. I am human and that means I get annoyed, frustrated, tired. I'm human so that means my tiny human brain not only cannot comprehend the goodness of my Creator, but it often forgets that I was not created by mere man.<br />
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Sometimes I hate that I speak english. Actually, most the time, I feel inferior. I'm surrounded by people who all speak at least two languages. But many can easily list of 3-5 languages in which they can successfully carry on conversation. I am currently at like 1 1/2. I can have a conversation in Kinyarwanda if it is either 1. a short greeting/how are you conversation. 2. It is negotiating the price of fruits/vegetables or a moto taxi. </div>
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And now, maybe you're thinking "Well, why didn't you spend years studying the language?" Well, here's my honest answer - Once I knew God was calling me to stay in Rwanda for the foreseeable future, I felt my heart burst with love for this nation and it's beautiful people. The very thought of only studying the language (not being with people, not praying with my sisters, not telling about about my Jesus) sort of felt like I was being stabbed in the heart. And, Rosetta Stone doesn't know Kinyarwanda either, so that option is out. Seriously, Rwanda = tiny country in Africa = not a lot of help online to learn correct, actual Kinyarwanda. </div>
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Anyways, carrying on...this whole language thing has been a pain lately. My team is made up of 5 people. Three are from Rwanda, one from Burundi and then mzungu JoJo. Being the only non-kinyarwanda speaker in the group is rough. I am constantly missing things. Things are decided, planned or plans are changed, but not fully communicated with me. My team is awesome, all of them speak english and most are completely fluent. They translate for me, and they work to make sure I understand. But sometimes, they get tired and just naturally speak their own language. I get it. No hard feelings. It makes life a bit frustrating for me, but honestly, I get it. </div>
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However, this makes life hard. And unfortunately, it sends me into a downward spiral filled with lies about my value, or lack I guess. I wonder why I'm here in Rwanda. I question if I am improving the ministry at all or if I'm just a giant burden on those I work with. I wish I knew Kinyarwanda. I wish that I was better at learning languages. But still, as much as I desire to know the language, and as much as I study, I am still not fluent. I still cannot communicate the love of Jesus with my sister in the village. There are just so many things that I cannot do. </div>
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Just when I feel useless and like a burden to my team, Jesus rushes in and shows me His love for me. Yesterday alone, two people (people who I love dearly, respect greatly and an incredibly blessed by) took time to encourage me. They told me I'm not a burden. That I'm not waisting my time. They told me that I play a specific and unique role on my team. All of a sudden it was like I was knocked over and unable to get up. I've been selfish. More focused on my ease of understanding than my co-workers ease of speaking their own language. I've been more concerned with understanding everything than stepping back and being patient. I was more worried that I didn't know what was being said than the nearly dead, sick woman in front of me. </div>
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It's crazy how frustrations bring out selfishness. I'm not saying it's wrong to be frustrated. It's a part of life, and most the time unavoidable. At least with me, when I get frustrated and stressed, my focus turns to me. I am focused on how upset I am. How inconvenienced I am and how hard my life is. </div>
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And let me just say this : that's stupid. So stupid. Yes, I've had some rough days, but really, I have nothing to complain about. At the end of the day, no matter how frustrating it is, I have my dream job. I live in a country that I love more than I ever thought possible. I get to see lives changed and hearts transformed. I get to attempt to be fluent in another language. And, I am surrounded by some amazing people who love me like I'm their sister or daughter. </div>
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So, thought for the day: when you're frustrated, angry, annoyed or just bummed out - is it really that bad? Is your life really that awful? Could you put that same energy into someone who has a reason to complain? Is there some injustice that you could put that same about of passion into? Car troubles, mixed up order at Starbucks, annoying co-workers/bosses, bad days at work and electronic convinces failing is not the end of the world. That's not enough to have a meltdown over. </div>
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There it is. My rant/thoughts for the day. </div>
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The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-80864773210589976622015-01-08T22:30:00.001-08:002015-01-08T22:30:30.887-08:00Correction.In my last post, I wrote about how I've applied to IPHC in South Africa. I am still awaiting to hear of my acceptance (or denial I guess). BUT...I feel that this is something that Jesus has called me to do. But, I need your help! If you want to contribute to the cost of the school, follow this link <a href="http://www.gofundme.com/joanna-iphc" target="_blank">http://www.gofundme.com/joanna-iphc</a> to make your donation.<br />
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Thanks!!!<br />
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<br />The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-28298278480595039322015-01-06T05:06:00.000-08:002015-01-08T00:05:54.243-08:00Ibihumbi babiri cumi natanu (2015) <div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">N</span></b>ew Years celebrations are obvious markers of change. The ending of one season (or a cluster of many seasons) and the beginning of another. And I think every person who celebrates spends some time reflecting on the last year. And so, I have done some reflecting of my own. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">2014 was a year of surprises that began with me freezing in Michigan. I was happy to be home with </span></div>
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<span class="s1">my family and friends, but I was cold, missing Rwanda and held a mostly pessimistic view of what the next six months would look like. But soon, Jesus brought a job (a job I had before and loved!), fundraising opportunities and many opportunities to reconnect with friends and family. He blew me away! </span></div>
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<span class="s1">While I was home, I hosted a dinner. I made food from my beloved Rwanda - rice, beans, boiled potatoes, chapatti, mandazi, milk tea and chicken kebabs (ok, thats not so Rwandese, but whatever). I prepared photos to share about the year I had spent in East Africa - South Sudan, Uganda, Burundi and mostly Rwanda. I prepared to share my vision of what’s next. As people RSVP’d, I was in awe. It started slow, but before I knew it, over 70 people were coming. Including 10 from a church that I had only visited once! People came, they ate, they listened, and they gave! Some gave one time gifts, others committed to be a monthly supporter. Seriously, when I got home and counted what Jesus gave me - I cried! <i>I was in awe of my Daddy!</i> But most of all, they all joined me in prayer and encouragement. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">In June, it was time to come home to Rwanda. Even though my original plans had changed, even though people told me I was too young to move to Africa long term and even though people thought I was making the wrong choice - I went. I began work with APRECOM and it was amazing. I fell in love with the ministry and the women we work with. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">In the past six months, I have been able to sit, cry, and pray with my Rwandese sisters. I have been able to speak truth and life to women that are hurting. I have been able to work with teenagers on an outreach. I have been able to see lives changed! </span></div>
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<span class="s1">And on a personal note, I have seen my own life changed. I’ve learned kinyarwanda. Ok, by no means am I fluent, or even close. But I can argue with a moto driver about the price, I can buy things at the market. And, I can understand maybe like 20% of what’s being said. You know, as long as they speak slowly and only one person at a time. <i>To me, that's pretty <b>huge</b>!</i> In the past six months, I’ve come closer to Jesus and seen that He really is by my side in everything. When people who have become family moved on to other things or other countries, I felt alone. But my Daddy scooped me up and showed me that <i>I wasn’t alone</i>. He spoke to me, great amazing things that I never thought could happen. It seemed to good to be true. And now, those things are happening. <b>Jesus is so cool</b>. He has a way of bringing the right people, just at the right time. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I ended this year a different person than last year. I’m still a giant mess - full of failure’s and plans and “I meant to’s”. But I ended 2014 as a person who knows her Daddy better than before. <i>And sometimes, thats all that matters. </i></span></div>
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<span class="s1">So now that it’s <b>2015,</b> maybe you’re wondering what I have planned. Ok, maybe you really don’t care, but I’m going to tell you anyways! So, allow me to break it down for you. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">1. I am still in Rwanda, plan to stay in Rwanda for a while. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">2. I am continuing work with APRECOM. Only now, we are working to improve our ministry. Focusing on a new community in the Eastern province but also working to improve our relationships with existing clients in the Kigali area. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">3. <b>SCHOOL!</b> Yup, you read that right. This girl, who hate’s school, has applied to go to school. A few years ago, I heard that YWAM had a medical school of some sort. Attending said school has kind of been in the back of my mind since. Well, sometime last year, it began to really stick in my brain. So, after praying, seeking and finally stopped talking myself out of it - I applied for <b>Introduction to Primary Health Care (IPHC)</b> in <u>Worcester, South Africa</u>. I am so excited for this school! It will be about 5 months, from<u> 27 June to 05 December</u> with both a lecture and outreach phase. So, this school will cover basic health care - both the practical, hands on, need to know info and health care in missions. The second part is an outreach - a time of applying what was learned. While, I am so excited to go back to South Africa (where my love for Africa began!) and to do this school. I’m also a bit freaked out. It’s school, I hated school. And it’s technical, like with math in science, and stuff - I hated math and science. <i>But, <b>Jesus is good</b>, even in math and science. </i>So, now I await my acceptance! Also, if you want to help out with my school fee’s and airfare to South Africa, you can donate using the button to the right! </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I am so excited for all that 2015 holds! I’m sure it will it’s own special challenges, rewards, it’s own chaos, it’s own peace and it’s own surprises! </span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>Here’s to a new year to serve Jesus! </b></span></div>
The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-47542425135386847842014-11-03T10:24:00.001-08:002014-11-04T23:26:46.671-08:00Rachelle. <i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Rachelle is a 12 year old girl who lives in Bukora, in the north eastern part of Rwanda. She came to our office/staff home with dirty and torn clothes. Her dress was riped and revealed her bare, boney and bloody shoulder. She was skinny, like she hadn't eaten in months. She was bruised, bloody. Her body looked like a it had been thrown around like a rag doll. We took her in, gave her hot water to bathe, gave her tea, rice, beans, bread - any food we could find. We asked her her name, how old she was and why she came to us. In her shy, quiet and fading voice, she told us that she had been beaten by her father, older brother, uncle and neighbor. They would beat her if she didn't cook or clean fast enough. The raped her. They told her that the only reason she was born was to serve and service them, whenever they saw fit. They told her that the only way she could be a respectable woman was if she got married, gave her husband many children and served him (in any way possible) whenever he wanted. She came to us because she saw us women, three Rwandese and one mzungu, showing love in the community.</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>"Help my daughters. I want my girls back"</b></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What's written above is not an actual ministry story. It's not an update of my week, really. It was a dream that I had the other night. And something I felt the Lord speaking while praying for Bukora. And maybe, saying that I had a dream/vision and heard something from the Lord makes me sound crazy. Or crazy pentecostal and charismatic. But it's true, I believe that Jesus speaks in many ways, a few being dreams, visions and with, you know...words. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This picture in my head stuck with me, haunted me almost. And since, Bukora has been heavily on my heart. And honestly, I don't know if there is a specific girl named Rachelle in this community with this exact story. Maybe there is, maybe I will meet her, maybe I never will. Maybe this is God opening my heart to the need in this area. Either way, it broke my heart. It broke my teams heart. And, it's moving us to action. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One of our plans for ministry in Bukora is working with girls. There are so many young girls. They are abused, in every possible. They get pregnant while young and unmarried. They become infected with HIV/AIDS. They are told they have no use, value or hope of a future. They are told to be a good, quiet and humble girl so they will grow up to be a good Rwandese wife - submissive, humble and quiet. And thats not to dig at Rwandan culture, at all. Those three things are great qualities in a wife. However, it can so easily become an excuse to demean women, based on their gender. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">These girls don't know their</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> value. They don't have a bright future. They aren't taught that they are beautiful, daughters of a king. They don't have a chance for education or skill training. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I am so excited for what God will do in Bukora. We are starting our girls ministry, called Queens. We want to love on our little sisters. Show them thier value. Show them how Jesus see's them. We want to train them in job skills (like sewing). We want to empower them to impact their families and communities. We want to show these girls that they were created for a purpose. A powerful, impactful and divine purpose. We want to bring our sisters back to our Daddy. </span></div>
The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-58334150914452944202014-10-26T10:33:00.000-07:002014-10-26T10:33:01.385-07:00My life. <div class="p1">
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<span class="s1">Let me start with this: I love my life. I love Rwanda with all my heart. Actually, if I ever had to leave, for any time longer than like 1 month, I’m fairly certain my heart would break in two. I love, absolutely love, the ministry that I am a part of. I love that I am a part of this ministry, not just an observer. And the things that we’ve prayed over and planned for next year? Oh man, it makes me giggle with excitement. Like a little girl on Christmas morning. How can I not be in love with the life that Jesus gave me? I am living in Africa, with my dream job, and, the best part, I get to see lives changed because of Jesus!</span></div>
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<span class="s1">And the crazy thing is that while I am seeing others lives transformed, my life is changing and taking a new shape. When I first came to Rwanda, almost two years ago, I was so different. I was shy, scared, reserved. I wouldn’t pray out loud, I wouldn’t sing to loud in worship, I wouldn’t speak up in a group setting. I wouldn’t confront anyone, about anything! I wouldn’t go into the city alone, let alone find my way around. My view of missions was twisted. I knew no Kinyrwanda, and thought that I never would. The idea of eating rice everyday, twice a day almost made me cry. Never having a hot shower, from a real shower head, seemed like a death sentence. And riding a moto - oh man, I swore it’d never happen. When I look back at the Joanna in January 2013 compared to today’s Joanna- it’s crazy different. To save time, look back at the list, think of the opposite. Thats me now. I’m still growing in many, ok, most of those areas. But the difference is amazing. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I think since about June 2010, when I first came to Africa, I have been living my life in short segments. I got home from South Africa, shared all about it, then lived my life until it was time to plan to go back. I did that in 2010, 2011 and 2012. Then, after my trip in 2012, it was time to apply for DTS. So then I lived my life just waiting until I came to Rwanda. Then, it was in another 6 month segment - my DTS. Then, I staffed a DTS, another 6 month stint. Then, I went back to MI for, you guessed it, 6 months. Finally, on 12 June 2014, I feel like I began my life in Rwanda. Not a short term trip. Not a 6 month stint. Long term. And let me tell you, when you’re somewhere for the long term instead of short term, your views change. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Now, taking two buses, and about 1 to 1 1/2 hours, to get to church is normal. Being stared at for an entire bus ride, though incredibly annoying, is normal. I have become used to the fact that “are you married?” is an appropriate question right after “what is your name?”. I am ok with crossing the street, as long as the traffic is at least far enough away to start slowing down in order to not hit me. I have come ok with the fact that I will not have a running shower, or a washing machine. And those are just a few of the small things. I’m planning my life here. And yes, a part of that includes a strapping, handsome, Jesus loving, missionary man. And wondering where we might get married, what it would be like raising children here in Rwanda. But it also means thinking of what life will be like 5 or 10 years. I wonder where I’ll be, what I’ll be doing and how my whole life will change. I mean, the past two years - so much has changed, at it’s for the better. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">So, all this to say, it’s been a crazy ride. Since I felt called to go to South Africa 5ish years ago up until now, it’s like I’m a totally different person. Even the Joanna that first came to Rwanda January of 2013 compared to the Joanna today - it’s crazy. I am so thankful for it. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">So here’s to the life changing power of Jesus. To the love of my Daddy that can take shame, fear, embarrassment, depression and insecurity and turn it in to confidence, joy, and pure freedom. Here’s to travel - it’s a life changing experience. If you have never left your country, start saving now. Because it opens your mind, changes your view of the world. It changes your life. Here’s to those moments when I felt like I could never live in Africa. Those moments when I thought I would never make it past a year. To those moments when people told me “Oh, you’re still young. You still have time to travel and get this phase out of your system”. And here’s to my life in Rwanda. The life that, while is exhausting, frustrating and is sometimes like trying to staple water to the wall - is a life that I wouldn’t trade for the world. Here’s to missions and being exactly where I should be. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV0hOqY9TGSuRLa7DBnFehdrrsMSYcxDUjYKhkuPQk9dzrtijSl1y6KPheJ1YK4qesyioXh7iDL50z2W25A5XuJArF3G_TByGq5_z3Q5kIohAD7jDOE6ix0vsW6De_3bTaB_ImUQWXXWeP/s1600/Photo+on+10-1-14+at+6.01+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV0hOqY9TGSuRLa7DBnFehdrrsMSYcxDUjYKhkuPQk9dzrtijSl1y6KPheJ1YK4qesyioXh7iDL50z2W25A5XuJArF3G_TByGq5_z3Q5kIohAD7jDOE6ix0vsW6De_3bTaB_ImUQWXXWeP/s1600/Photo+on+10-1-14+at+6.01+PM.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And another thing I love about Rwanda:<br />I love that occasionally, it gets cold enough and it feels like fall. </td></tr>
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The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-66346110709357513512014-09-09T06:02:00.002-07:002014-09-09T06:12:57.560-07:00The one with the rant...<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">The other day I read an article that someone posted on Facebook. Normally, I really don’t care about all the articles or links shared. But this cought my eye - <i>10 secrets missionaries will never tell you. </i>(go read it! <a href="http://www.churchleaders.com/outreach-missions/outreach-missions-articles/175891-adam-mosley-secrets-missionaries-wont-tell-you.html#.VA13wrl9DLk.facebook" target="_blank">http://www.churchleaders.com/outreach-missions/outreach-missions-articles/175891-adam-mosley-secrets-missionaries-wont-tell-you.html#.VA13wrl9DLk.facebook</a>) While reading it, I realized how it is so true - I then reposted it. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">But the more I thought about it, I wonder why it’s like that. Openness and honesty is valued. Especially in the realm of church and missions. But why is that when someone is in Christian service of any kind, in any nation (including their home nation) we can’t be totally open. I’m not talking about the kind of openness where I could tell all my supporters about every detail of my day including the number of visits to the latrine. But I mean the kind of openness where I can say when things are just hard. When things are frustrating. When I feel totally incapable of what God has called me. And when I get to those points of being so tired - in every way possible - that I just want to crawl in my bed and not see another person, not hear another word of Kinyarwanda or deal with anything. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Whether it’s a spoken thing or not - missionaries are put on a shelf for the rest of the world, both Christian and secular, to watch, observe and critique. Growing up as a missionaries kid, I saw this all the time. Now as a missionary myself, I see it. It’s as if by answering the call to missions we agree to be an exhibit in a museum. And exhibit that people can watch and learn from. We are expected to be “super Christians”, to pray every single second and to have the Bible memorized verbatim. But everyone forgets that we are people too. I am full of sin, selfishness, laziness - all of those things that “normal” people have to. I get annoyed at our co-workers, I get tired of praying or preparing Bible studies and messages. And here’s some more honesty - I get tired of being poor, of wearing the same clothes over and over and over. I get tired of having to carry water every time I want to shower. I get tired of feeling gross because I was too lazy or tired to carry water to shower. I get tired of rice (so tired!), beans, and cooked banana’s. And so many other things. But yet I, and I think most other missionaries, feel like we can’t fully express that to the mass of our supporters. I know I can complain about the hardships of my life to my family and friends and they'll listen. But sometimes when I sit down to write ministry updates I want to say things like “it won't stop raining and mud is everywhere.” or “it really, really sucks riding on the bus for 2 hours, practically hiking a mount for 20 minutes just to share the Word for 20 minutes” or “ my brain will explode if I try to learn anymore kinyrwanda!”. And I want to say that because thats the honest truth of what's going on in my life. Not because I want a pity party. As you can tell from this and previous posts, I value honesty and openness. And I guess this specific topic is my pet peeve. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">So, here is the link of the article that sent me on this rant. I am not writing this all our for pity. I don’t expect everyone reading to feel the need to sympathize with me. But the bottom line is this - if someone working in business had a really crappy day, they could tell all about it and no one would question their spiritual maturity. But if a missionary has a crappy day and complains about it - we are seen as spiritually immature or a bad missionary. So, read this list and learn from it. I pray it changes how you see missionaries and how you interact with them. In fact, here’s some homework - bless a missionary by asking them how they really are. If they rant on about difficulties in their life, be there to listen, pray and love. Let them let it all out and encourage them to keep going. Because honestly - sometimes thats all I need. Just a “Jesus is doing big things. Keep at it. Don’t give up.” Just because missionaries have bad days or may complain about things, it doesn't negate thier calling or thier heart. It doesn't mean that they want to quit and move back to a normal life. It means that life is hard and we need other people to love us, encourage us and push us to keep going! </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Thanks for listening to my crazy rant...But in it all, I smile and have joy. Because as hard as it is, the missionary life is where it's at. And at the end of the day, I still have to pinch myself to realize and I am actually living in Rwanda! </span></div>
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The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-15861736641626300392014-09-04T05:46:00.000-07:002014-09-04T05:46:53.334-07:00A little bit of my mind lately. <div class="p1">
<span class="s1">So, it’s been a bit of a while without a post. I have a few reasons for this. The first, and biggest is that our internet has been whack lately. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. And of course there is always the option of going to a cafe, but aint nobody got time for dat! And the second, I have had so many thoughts but they were all a mass of chaos. It would be impossible to put those thoughts into words, into sentences that made any sense. But let’s try it today, shall we? Lately, Jesus has been saying a lot. All on one topic - <b>value</b>. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">For most of my life, I have fought with insecurities and being self conscious. My head was filled with lies from the enemy and my heart believed them. And because I was so convinced that these lies were truth, everything people did (or didn’t do) just confirmed the lies. I am worthless. I have no value, no purpose, no use. I am a failure. No one wants, needs, likes or loves me. My life is a joke. - This was almost like my motto for most of my life. Walking around believing this was completely miserable. I was convinced I was all alone. I hated God - because, He was supposedly a God of love, but I felt nothing but rejection and misery. This declaration over me was so heavy that it led to suicide attempts and even more self hatred. I hated myself so much that I couldn’t accept love from anyone. If anyone said anything positive about me, I was convinced it was a joke. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">But...then I met Jesus! And He changed it all. I wish I could say it was an immediate change. That all of a sudden, I loved myself just the right amount, that I could appreciate my gifts, talents, faults, and quirks. That’s not how it happened. Slowly, Jesus showed me that all these things I had believed for so long, were just a ton of lies. And He showed me how He see’s me. And even now, years later, those lies come back. When I have too much alone time, those lies come back and say I’m alone and will be forever. When I make a mistake, those lies tell me that thats all I am, a mistake. Jesus combats the lies with truth. When I have alone time, it’s a chance to rest and meet with my Savior. When I make a mistake, it’s a chance to learn and remember to do it differently next time. And even now, when people share words of affirmation, I fight to see what they see. But let me tell you this - it’s a process! I know I am a hot mess, I fail, I’m scared of a lot things, I do stupid things, I make mistakes. But I also know that Jesus loves me. He see me as His daughter who He will use for amazing things. The mess that I am? Jesus is using that mess to help change a nation! </span></div>
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<span class="s1">So let me tell you this: you’re value is far beyond what you could ever imagine. Your value is not tied up in your earthly identity. Your job, your relationship status, the amount of money you make, the car you drive, your circle of friends, your family - none of that determines your value. Your Savior, the One who gave up His own life for you - that is what determines your value. If you don’t know how Jesus sees you, ask Him - He loves to sing His love over His children. Spend time in His presence. Rest in Him! </span></div>
The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-42791372393405471102014-08-22T02:20:00.000-07:002014-08-22T02:20:09.376-07:00My life<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">My life is not the normal life for a single, 23 year old, American female. I live in Rwanda, for the first time I sort of live alone (even though there are many others on the compound), I’m trying to train my brain and tongue in another language and ministry is my life. Seriously, pretty much the only thing I do outside of ministry is going to church on Sunday. This is because of two things 1. Ministry is exhausting! 2. Missions is not where the money is (you know, just in case you thought I was a millionaire) and I think toilet paper is more important then going out. And I’m not complaining, but going out, leaving the base and being a “normal” person does sound nice. But I’m ok with it. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I am amazed at the life Jesus gave me. I LOVE MY LIFE. And while it’s hard to find balance in my life. And to hear stories of horrifying things on an almost daily basis - it is so worth it! If one woman can find hope in Jesus, the healing that he brings or her value from our King - worth it. Even if it takes almost 2 hours with buses and walking/hiking to get to a home, just to pray, worship and share the Word for 45 minutes - worth it. Guys, I have been able to see some amazing things (see my last post), hear some amazing stories and see lives transformed! God is doing something so huge here in Rwanda! It’s something so big that all those hard things don’t matter! When lives are being changed, wounds are being healed, forgiveness is taken place and women find love and value from our Daddy - a few hours on a bus doesn’t matter! I would ride the bus for even longer, hike up mountains, ride motor bikes,bicycles, or any other form of transport (like a dump truck into South Sudan. That actually happened!)</span></div>
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<span class="s1">And so, because I love this life so much, it’s time to celebrate it. Here are some photos and videos of what I get to do in Rwanda! </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmA0bHy4RwkmZmyBLrVaxrgqSDEjXbqclCWYJxy8NoYTRG0k1EiSq0FV1TFHJeRKv6JuqCvLeX0081aU7YEBiIcZNc6F5E5QATezDKp2CQZXPobCRlH8XSxgpb7jKv-9klpPZp01LXxEp5/s1600/10354736_10204475216662123_5099427978727691492_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmA0bHy4RwkmZmyBLrVaxrgqSDEjXbqclCWYJxy8NoYTRG0k1EiSq0FV1TFHJeRKv6JuqCvLeX0081aU7YEBiIcZNc6F5E5QATezDKp2CQZXPobCRlH8XSxgpb7jKv-9klpPZp01LXxEp5/s1600/10354736_10204475216662123_5099427978727691492_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I am so blessed to work with an amazing woman of God. One who understands the need for rest and relaxation. </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisZP8mLb8c4csUzXjtA0RTyEHy1NBSdWD7FLHrEJR6hliMMqBgw0BXxwl8pFBNumBw3LeYgK-9tY9BxW4p2kblLR2j5eq_lKygR-TPdYGp_gPHBqOW8vgqUAg4ExNvYsUkWyl662Ycjvo2/s1600/10411131_10204549205671802_5951330616253878993_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisZP8mLb8c4csUzXjtA0RTyEHy1NBSdWD7FLHrEJR6hliMMqBgw0BXxwl8pFBNumBw3LeYgK-9tY9BxW4p2kblLR2j5eq_lKygR-TPdYGp_gPHBqOW8vgqUAg4ExNvYsUkWyl662Ycjvo2/s1600/10411131_10204549205671802_5951330616253878993_n.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoikR_wS4awOa5L_9LEmJC0JOjfR0QTzmWDfIv3QjEUiz37IlrXXmi7OfHvZWxHrtTMAp01YJf3TSPDKMWwhDUp25PK4H3ritjWjrhYASVvQx680E2a3OEX2s8W6YAS83_XuCjh7ZRF6fp/s1600/InstagramCapture_361b74e1-3dcd-48bf-a2fa-8f99486143b5_jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoikR_wS4awOa5L_9LEmJC0JOjfR0QTzmWDfIv3QjEUiz37IlrXXmi7OfHvZWxHrtTMAp01YJf3TSPDKMWwhDUp25PK4H3ritjWjrhYASVvQx680E2a3OEX2s8W6YAS83_XuCjh7ZRF6fp/s1600/InstagramCapture_361b74e1-3dcd-48bf-a2fa-8f99486143b5_jpg.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is my buddy Bobo. He comes every saturday to hang out and watch Lion King. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I am blessed to have YWAM family who know and understand my love for strong coffee.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from my front "porch". Notice the chicken tied to the tree</td></tr>
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The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-64705135689161517092014-08-18T08:20:00.002-07:002014-08-18T08:20:32.693-07:00Want to hear an amazing story?!?!?!Here is a great story! But first, here is what you need to know: a few weeks ago, I went on a short, five day outreach in the Eastern Province of Rwanda - a place called Bukora. We (my team and I) took 20 teenagers and led them in evangelism and discipleship. The teens we took come from homes affected by HIV. Some are orphans, some are infected with HIV, some have lost parents or other family members. Aprecom meets with these teens regularly to pray, worship and encourage them. We do what we can to help support them. BUT...this is the most amazing group of teens I have ever seen! The love and passion they have for the Lord = inspiring! They love each other (and us as leaders! They treated us so well!), they are bold, unafraid to speak out.<br />
Now, the rest of the story...<br />
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Her name is M'kashaka (or Shaka). She is from an area called Gatstata, about 20 minutes outside of Kigali. She has been apart of our group of teens for a bit. She has been doing the church thing for a while, but only because her grandma told her to. She would go to church and then go out to party. She was an alcoholic and had no desire to change. She came on this outreach because her grandma made her. So she went along with the worship times and ministry times, simply mimicking what others were doing.<br />
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Every evening, we had a time of worship. This one night was specifically intense. We were worshipping in the pure, uninterrupted presence of Jesus! But, as I later found out, all four of us Aprecom staff felt that God wanted to do something BIG. Like break some chains, change some lives, redirect some paths, BIG. We continued to worship and pray, proclaiming freedom over the group. As we prayed, the four of us felt that we should specifically pray for one person - Shaka. We moved closer, laying hands on her we prayed for freedom from whatever was holding her back. Soon after, she began screaming. She fell to the ground, swatting at the air, kicking her legs like crazy. We continued to pray. At this point, it was obvious - we were dealing with a demon. Personally, I was kind of freaking out. I do not have a lot of experience in this. However, I know who Jesus is, so I kept praying and speaking what I felt the Holy Spirit saying.<br />
Eventually, she stopped screaming and moving, laying on the ground - almost like she was unconscious. After she "came to", we talked to her, still praying over her. She told us what was going on.<br />
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When she was screaming, kicking and swatting the air, she was having like a super vivid vision. It was incredibly realistic and actual reality disappeared. There was a crocodile coming at her, trying to eat her up. She was screaming and fighting it, but it wouldn't leave. It was taking over. Right before the crocodile bit her, she almost like passed out.<br />
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Now, I know what you may be thinking... "What?!?!?! That didn't happen!", or "Um, she lied, you're insane". But seriously, it did! To be honest, if someone would have told me this story a year ago, I would deny that it was true. But, Satan, demons and demon possession is real, people. BUT...Jesus is bigger! This story may seem dramatic or impossible, but it was what Shaka needed! She told us that her sin, her life was like the crocodile. It was coming at her, eating her up, swallowing her whole. No matter what she did, how hard she fought, she was miserable. Because of her life of sin, life without Jesus - she was dying. She told us that right before she blacked out, right when she was about to be bitten by the crocodile, Jesus stepped in. She saw Him in a real way. She saw that He loves her and was saving her from death.<br />
That night, she gave her life to Jesus! She said she was all in, nothing would hold her back! Guys, Jesus is so good!<br />
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And, here she is! After giving her life to Jesus, she was like a light that couldn't be hidden! She brought joy wherever she went. Her life is different, and it's so evident!<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">P.S. thank you Jesus for spell check. Apparently, I don't know how to spell crocodile without the help of my computer. </span></div>
The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-19713259611366198362014-08-08T00:51:00.000-07:002014-08-08T00:51:02.650-07:00Here it is...<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">So this is what’s been on my heart lately. It’s not upbeat, and it probably won't encourage anyone. So, as you read, remember a few things. I am not doubting God’s love, goodness or His faithfulness. I am not doubting His plans for anyones lives. I know that He has a purpose for everyone - no matter what kind of life they have. I know - and so strongly believe - that He has HUGE plans for these women. I know He loves them beyond human understanding. I know He has a heart for them to be healed. And that His heart is breaking with theirs. God is still good, He is still unchanging and His ways and plans are still perfect. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">In Aprecom, we have around 350 women that we work with. They are all either HIV+ or widows (many are both). All were greatly affected by the genocide and live with the scars today. Like anyone, they have good days and bad days, happy seasons and </span></div>
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<span class="s1">seasons of sadness. I get to talk to them, pray with them, cry with them and encourage them. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Odetta was brutally beaten and raped by multiple men, multiple times during the genocide. Today, 20 years later, her uterus is destroyed, she is in intense pain, almost paralyzed. Her back is nearly broken. And, she is living with HIV. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Valentine hid among dead bodies, barely escaping with her life. She was raped. Now, shes HIV+ and has no way of providing for her children or herself. She feels like a failure as a mother. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Christine has lost all but two of her children to HIV/AIDS. Of the living two, both are HIV+, one is close to death and the other is a madman, wandering around, a constant threat to himself and others. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">There is a common theme to the women we work with. HIV+, widows, horrific stories of the genocide and poverty. These women can’t provide for themselves, or their families. Many have no way to provide, because they are sick. They are empty, alone and hopeless.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I love visiting women - but honestly, it’s probably the hardest thing I've done. I listen, cry, pray, try to encourage, but so often I feel empty. Why? Why do some people go through things like this while others can never even imagine it outside of nightmares or a movie? How can a woman be so brutally raped and beaten that 20 years later, she still has physical pain? How can a woman be surrounded by dead bodies and barely get out alive? How can people watch their family and friends be brutally murdered and beaten? Why does this happen to some people while others have such good lives? Some grow up in homes with enough food, they grow up safe. They are never beaten, they are never raped, they’ve never seen anyone murdered in front of them. The horrific reality of genocide never crosses their minds. Maybe this is a form of survivors guilt or something. But it breaks my heart that these women, my sisters, have gone through a living, breathing nightmare while so many others, while I was completely unaware. But now, I’m aware. So aware. And while I can never fully understand what these women, and so many others, went through - I am aware of their pain. It’s a pain that makes you so exhausted you can't remember which state you're from. It’s a pain thats so crippling, that you lay on your floor and cry. It’s a pain that completely wipes you out, exhausts you to the point of not being able to function. And thats only tiny fraction of what these women are living with. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">So there it is. A lot of words that may not even make sense. Don't worry, I've not lost my faith. I’ve not turned my back on Jesus nor have I given up hope. This is just a glimpse of my week and what takes place. This is the ministry that I am. The ministry I love so much and the ministry I know God has called me to. As hard as this all is, I thank God for it. I am glad that I can feel a small fraction of what these women do. Because, while it's nowhere near what they have lived through, I can be by their side now. These women are my heros. To have gone through so much and still pushing through, living thier lives, trying to move on. They may not be completely healed, but they are working on it. They may loose sight of it, but they do have hope - all because of Jesus. </span></div>
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The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-89319264885539662592014-07-17T11:07:00.001-07:002014-07-17T11:07:52.402-07:00I forgot why I movedSometimes I forget why I moved to Africa. Ok, ok, no, I did not litterally forget why I packed up and moved accross the world. But sometimes I forget my purpose of being here. Between my busy schedule of office work, home visits, support groups, preparing for conferences and outreaches, language study, communicating with friends and family, keeping myself sane and bulding/growing relationships here - it can be easy to forget Jesus. And before you judge me as a horrible Christian and unfit to be a missionary, let me explain.<br />
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Missionaries are busy people. Especially when they are single, young and fairly new to a country. Because not only do we have work to think and worry about. But we have to figure out how to simply live. If you need an atm, sometimes you have to try like 25 times before being successful. And thats just frustrating when you're already late on your rent. You have to have friends and relationships. You have to find that balance of working hard and resting enough. It's a busy life. Which, it's not really that different than any other line of work. It's just a tad more complicated when you're in a new country.<br />
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And in all that business, it's so easy to loose sight of what should be priority #1 - Jesus. I love Jesus. I love being in His presence, and I wish I was better at always being tight with him. But because I am a flawed and sinful human being, I get so busy with life that I forget to go to the Life Giver. But, on Monday, I had an awakening. Honestly, it felt like I was trampled like a hurd of elephants. You know, that sudden impact that just leaves you feeling rotten? Yup, that was it.<br />
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A dear friend of mine took the time to write out notes and scriptures and sent them with me when I returned to Rwanda. And what did I read on Monday morning?<br />
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<i><b>" How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord Almighty! My soul yearns, even faints for the courts of my Lord! My heart and flesh cyr out for the living God!" Psalm 84:1 - 2</b></i></div>
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And then we had worship and again, Jesus was tapping on my shoulder. Almost to be like "Hey, remember me? You should come hang out with me!" Maybe I should explain why this was so huge to me. I love Rwanda, Aprecom, ministry, and everything about living in Africa. But for a few weeks, it's been hard to have joy. For whatever reason, I just felt "eh" instead of joy. A week ago, my roomate and best friend in Rwanda moved to Uganda, and now I live alone. I am not good when left alone. So that was also adding to my "eh" feeling. So all of these things just made me sad, tired and just feel void of any joy. </div>
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And I realized that the lack of my joy was coming from my lack of time with Jesus. I felt so tired and lifeless because I wasn't in the presence of my Creator. I felt sad and lonely because I wasn't communicating with the only Joy giver. And man, the difference after being with Jesus - like night and day! </div>
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So moral of the story, always have time with Jesus. It doesnt matter how busy you are. How Christian or "holy" your profession may seem. No matter the country you live in, the language you speak (or try to speak), no matter if you live alone or with many others - Jesus should always be first. Even after a long day, no movie, no amount of tea or biscuits can relax you like Jesus. So there it is...now, ya'll gotta keep me accountable! Let's go get us some Jesus! </div>
The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-91857470629964980532014-07-06T09:28:00.003-07:002014-07-06T09:28:40.343-07:00Not your average missionary. Last week, I had the opportunity to go to Uganda. A few days before, I was asked if I wanted to go to Jinja for a week for a seminar. After a few details were worked out, I was on the road with my travel buddy, headed for Jinja, Uganda!<br />
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This seminar was about member care: caring for our team of missionaries. And to be honest, at first I had no idea why I was going. I mean, sure, the idea of just going to Uganda seemed fun. But really, who am I to go and represent this base? So many thoughts filled my head. Mostly being "Why me?" I am the youngest (I think) staff with YWAM Rwanda. I am one of the newest staff. Not only am I new to YWAM, but also to full time missions AND to living in Africa. I am young and inexperienced.<br />
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The conference began and I was still wondering why I was there. Many of the other people were older (by like 10 or 20+ years), they had been with YWAM 10, 15, 20+ years, they had so much experience. They were well matured in thier walk with God and in life as a missionary. And then, there is me. And so there I was, in Uganda, feeling like I was in the completely wrong place. Yes, it was encouraging to be around so many missionaries. People who had made the move to missions many years ago and still have a passion to serve. I loved hearing stories of outreaches and success stories. And the seminar itself was good. I learned how and why I should love and care for my fellow staff. I realized how important care and encouragement is in missions. However...I was still wondering why I had come.<br />
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That night (the first day there), I sat with the two main speakers at dinner. I shared what I do here in Rwanda, my vision, how I got here, all that jazz. And their response surprised me. "Wow! That's incredible!" And from that moment, it was as if one of the ladies took me under her wing. These two women travel the world and teach at different YWAM bases on many topics. They both are full of wisdom, encouragement and love for missionaries. Also, one of these amazing ladies is originally from MI! Maybe thats why we bonded.<br />
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Half way through the week, I felt so overwhelmed by my own thoughts, feelings, or whatever they were. And so right when it was enough to make me want to leave, I opened my Bibl (if only that would have occured to me sooner). And I began reading in 1 Timothy. And I felt so encouraged. Age should not and does limit passion for the Gospel!<br />
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That very day in the seminar, a question about age was asked. And the response grabbed my heart! It was like Jesus was sitting next to me, padding me on the shoulder saying "See? I told you so!" "A young person can have passion for ministry, passion for those they work with. So if there is a staff member that has a passion for that: missions, the nation, the missionaries, for people in general and for the Lord - let them lead!"<br />
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And through that, I realized something. <b>I am not the average missionary. </b>I am young (23, in case you're wondering). I am single. I didn't finish college (in fact, I'm a community college drop out). I didn't go to a missions school. I never wanted to be a missionary, or ever come to Africa, as a child/teenager. I have tattoos - no, I don't regret them. I actually quite like them. I haven't spent years in language study (but will soon begin!). My testimony is far from a clean cut story. I don't know the Bible as well as I should. I don't always have the perfect advice. Many mornings, I choose sleep over quality time with Jesus. I don't pray as much or as passionately as I should or want to. Sometimes I get tired of all the "Spirituallness" of being a missionary. I hate fundraising. And to be honest, most of the time I feel like I am failing as Christian. But yet, Jesus has shown me that this doesn't matter. <i>I am a hot mess - but Jesus is using this mess.</i> <b>He's holding me together and using my messy-ness to impact a Nation!</b> <u>The beautiful thing is this: there is a new breed of missionaries rising up! </u>They are young, they are wild, reckless, passionate, not a cookie cutter Christian, full of faults and failures. But<b> we are missionaries</b>. And because of Jesus - lives and nations are being changed!<br />
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Being a missionary doesn't mean you have your life together. It doesn't require and impressive resume. and it doesn't have an age limit. It requires a heart ready to be broken. It requires a passion for the Lord and for others and for a nation. And even though I feel so unqualified, like 95% of the time, to even live here - I know I am in the right place!<br />
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So, to wrap up this jumbled mess of words and feelings, here's some of the Word!<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">1 Timothy 1: 5, 12-20</span></b><br />
<span class="versenum" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">5 </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">The goal of this command is love, which comes from a pure heart</span><span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29702M" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29702M" title="See cross-reference M">M</a>)"></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">and a good conscience</span><span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29702N" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29702N" title="See cross-reference N">N</a>)"></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"> and a sincere faith.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span class="text 1Tim-1-12" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">12 </span>I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who has given me strength,<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29709W" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29709W" title="See cross-reference W">W</a>)"></span> that he considered me trustworthy, appointing me to his service.<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29709X" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29709X" title="See cross-reference X">X</a>)"></span></span> <span class="text 1Tim-1-13" id="en-NIV-29710" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">13 </span>Even though I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29710Y" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29710Y" title="See cross-reference Y">Y</a>)"></span> and a violent man, I was shown mercy<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29710Z" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29710Z" title="See cross-reference Z">Z</a>)"></span> because I acted in ignorance and unbelief.<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29710AA" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29710AA" title="See cross-reference AA">AA</a>)"></span></span> <span class="text 1Tim-1-14" id="en-NIV-29711" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">14 </span>The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly,<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29711AB" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29711AB" title="See cross-reference AB">AB</a>)"></span> along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29711AC" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29711AC" title="See cross-reference AC">AC</a>)"></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span class="text 1Tim-1-15" id="en-NIV-29712" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">15 </span>Here is a trustworthy saying<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29712AD" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29712AD" title="See cross-reference AD">AD</a>)"></span> that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29712AE" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29712AE" title="See cross-reference AE">AE</a>)"></span>—of whom I am the worst.</span> <span class="text 1Tim-1-16" id="en-NIV-29713" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">16 </span>But for that very reason I was shown mercy<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29713AF" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29713AF" title="See cross-reference AF">AF</a>)"></span> so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his immense patience<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29713AG" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29713AG" title="See cross-reference AG">AG</a>)"></span> as an example for those who would believe<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29713AH" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29713AH" title="See cross-reference AH">AH</a>)"></span> in him and receive eternal life.<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29713AI" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29713AI" title="See cross-reference AI">AI</a>)"></span></span> <span class="text 1Tim-1-17" id="en-NIV-29714" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">17 </span>Now to the King<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29714AJ" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29714AJ" title="See cross-reference AJ">AJ</a>)"></span> eternal, immortal,<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29714AK" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29714AK" title="See cross-reference AK">AK</a>)"></span>invisible,<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29714AL" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29714AL" title="See cross-reference AL">AL</a>)"></span> the only God,<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29714AM" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29714AM" title="See cross-reference AM">AM</a>)"></span> be honor and glory for ever and ever. Amen.<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29714AN" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29714AN" title="See cross-reference AN">AN</a>)"></span></span></div>
<h3 style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-weight: 500; line-height: 1.1; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 20px;">
<span class="text 1Tim-1-18" id="en-NIV-29715" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The Charge to Timothy Renewed</span></span></h3>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span class="text 1Tim-1-18" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">18 </span>Timothy, my son,<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29715AO" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29715AO" title="See cross-reference AO">AO</a>)"></span> I am giving you this command in keeping with the prophecies once made about you,<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29715AP" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29715AP" title="See cross-reference AP">AP</a>)"></span> so that by recalling them you may fight the battle well,<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29715AQ" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29715AQ" title="See cross-reference AQ">AQ</a>)"></span></span> <span class="text 1Tim-1-19" id="en-NIV-29716" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">19 </span>holding on to faith and a good conscience,<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29716AR" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29716AR" title="See cross-reference AR">AR</a>)"></span> which some have rejected and so have suffered shipwreck with regard to the faith.<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29716AS" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29716AS" title="See cross-reference AS">AS</a>)"></span></span><span class="text 1Tim-1-20" id="en-NIV-29717" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">20 </span>Among them are Hymenaeus<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29717AT" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29717AT" title="See cross-reference AT">AT</a>)"></span> and Alexander,<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29717AU" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29717AU" title="See cross-reference AU">AU</a>)"></span> whom I have handed over to Satan<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29717AV" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29717AV" title="See cross-reference AV">AV</a>)"></span> to be taught not to blaspheme.</span></div>
The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-62245937787943678192014-06-28T04:03:00.000-07:002014-06-28T04:03:19.955-07:00Life in Rwanda The last few weeks have almost been like a whirlwind. I have been back in Rwanda for just over two weeks, but yet it feels like I never left. A few days after arriving, I jumped right in with ministry. It's so good to be back in Rwanda, to be around the people who have become so much like family, to be around familiar but yet many new things. So let me catch you up on my life.<br />
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1. I am so happy to be home in Rwanda! I was warmly greeted by my YWAM family, people from church and the few other random people I know here. It really was like coming home.<br />
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2. I LOVE the ministry that I'm a part of! Aprecom is a ministry that wants to serve and love. And we do whatever we can to show that love. From riding for 2 hours on a bus and then practically hiking just for a 30 minute meeting to visiting homes and support groups. When we have the money, we buy food, medicine, cover hosptial bills and whatever other needs the ladies might have. There are about 300 women that we work with. All are HIV+, many are widows, many have children that are also HIV+, most of have lost homes, family members, etc. These women have experienced more pain and tiral that I can ever imagine. Yet, they have joy because the know Jesus.<br />
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3. Although I love this ministry, it can be hard. HIV/AID's leads to death. Many of these women have mourned the death of husbands, children, brothers and sisters. I feel completely unprepared on how to deal with it.<br />
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4. Last Friday, we hosted the ladies for a womens conference. Full of worship, prayer, dancing and teaching. It was beautiful to worship with all the ladies!<br />
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5. On Thursday, I was asked if I wanted to go to Uganda for a conference, that starts this Monday. So after some prayer...I'm going to Uganda! From Monday to Friday, there is a Member Care conference for YWAM staff in East Africa. I am so excited to go and meet others and travel with a good friend of mine.<br />
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6. On a personal note - life is good! I am learning more Kinyrwanda (very slowly, but still) and will begin lessons soon. Aprecom keeps me busy but it's so worth it.<br />
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I feel so blessed and amazed that this is the life that God has given me. I love it and wouldn't choose anything else. Even when I'm tired or busy. Even when it's hot and we have to climb a steep hill. Even when home visits consist of listening to stories and crying. Even when there is now electricity to boil water for coffee. I wouldn't trade it for the world.<br />
<br />The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-89679577027978225842014-06-22T05:30:00.001-07:002014-06-22T05:30:09.572-07:00Here's a story...I am so happy to be back home in Rwanda! Last Monday was my first day with Aprecom...I love this ministry! It's so great to be a part of what God is doing in this beautiful nation.<br />
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Check out this video! Florence is just one of many women that Aprecom is blessed to work with.<br />
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<br /><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7eKN5XuJsj8" target="_blank">Hear Florence's Story</a></div>
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God is doing so many great things in Rwanda and I am beyond excited to see what else He will do. I love this nation and that Jesus has brought me here. Stay tuned for more! </div>
The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-82743635182790230262014-05-20T15:26:00.001-07:002014-05-20T15:26:29.097-07:00College Drop outIt was around this time 5 years ago that I graduated high school. I remember feeling like I had finally arrived. Like I was finally an adult. I graduated with great plans of going to culinary school and opening a cafe & bakery. My future plans were made up of the American dream: to be successful, not necessarily rich but definitely not lacking. I assumed that at some point in my college career, I would meet a handsome man and that after a fairy tale romance, we would be married and have 2 children. My life would be perfect.<br />
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Five years later - things are crazy different. I still don't feel like an adult, unless I am paying bills or dealing with car issues. I did the culinary school thing for a while, but then I quit. Yup, that's right...I dropped out of college - community college. In terms of money, I am anything but rich and most of the time, I am in fact lacking. No prince charming came along and there was no fairy tale. And s far as living the American dream...not happening. But I love my life. <br />
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I don't have money. I am single. I do not have a college degree. I don't have some high paying job. I currently live with my parents. BUT...I have traveled! South Africa, Rwanda, Uganda, South Sudan, Burundi and even to Paris on adventure during a layover. I have seen the Lord do miracles in each of those nations. A 3 year old girl, who was paralyzed from birth, walked! A women who had been possessed for 5+ years was delivered! Countless people encountered Jesus! Lives were changed! I am getting ready to<i> move, not just visit -</i> <i><b>move</b></i>, to Africa. And none of this is to my own credit...at all! I never wanted to go to Africa. I never wanted to live outside of the US. I never wanted to be a missionary. I never wanted that life. For so long, it was my dream to cook for a career, have a happy little family, to be a "good christian" and stay within my comfort zone. But thanks to Jesus - none of that happened.<br />
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So as I look back to where I was five years ago, it makes me laugh. I thought I had it all together. Ha! The last five years have been amazing, hard, disappointing, surprising and challenging all at once. And I am so thankful for them. I look back at the others I graduated with (all 12 of them. Homeschool graduation right there!) and see where they are now. Several are married or engaged, some have kids. Some have finished college and are now working in their dream field. But I do not envy them.<br />
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Though my life is not typical - I love it. So what if I dropped out of college and have had nothing but low paying jobs. I choose travel, zipping around on a motor bike, learning a new language and culture. Teaching and preaching about Jesus and caring for the orphan and widow. Pooping in the ground, taking bucket showers, being dirty and smelly. That is a small glimpse of my life that I love. I wouldn't trade it for anything. The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-64359692977403103302014-04-30T22:24:00.003-07:002014-04-30T22:42:50.384-07:00I'm afraid. So I heard this song tonight, it led me to ponder things. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=30K1ynJgSMc" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=30K1ynJgSMc</a><br />
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Change is coming. Changes that are exciting but still terrifying. "I'll say goodbye to my mother, my father. Turn my back on any other..." Leaving is hard. I am so excited (really, I just want to scream and giggle all the time!) to be moving to Africa. I know I've been away before and it's been hard even then.But now, knowing that when I go, I'm there to stay, it scares me..a lot. How many big events will I miss because I live in Africa? Birthdays, weddings, babies, anniversaries, big moments, etc. I know for a fact there are big moments that I will miss. I know my loved ones of will have crisis and I wont be there. When I get on that plane on June 10, I am taking a step into some big changes that go way beyond a change of location.<br />
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Learning a new language, learning more of the culture, getting deeper into a church, building relationships there, and just living as a functional adult in a country not my native home - these are the changes awaiting me. I'm sure there will be (and all ready have been) days and nights of missing my native home, times of crying because I just want to be with my family here. I know it will be hard. To think it'd be easy would be the dumbest thought to ever cross my mind.<br />
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BUT...this is only a portion of the cost of discipleship.<br />
To follow Jesus is a big decision. Jesus clearly says in Luke that if we aren't ready to renounce everything we known, own, love ,etc. then we ware not ready to follow Him (14:33). Intense, huh? Over and over, He promises a hard life if we are truly following him. Take a look at Luke 21:10-19. In summary, Jesus says that bad stuff will happen, and will continue to happen. But check out verses 18&19 -<br />
<b>"But not a hair of your head will perish. By your endurance you will gain your lives"</b>Maybe this is something that Jesus had for me to ponder tonight. My decision to move to Africa has got some weight to it! I don't know what awaits me. I don't know the things (good or bad) that will happen in the nations I will be in.<br />
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But Jesus is in control. Every time I miss my family or He will be there to comfort me. Whenever I am sick, He will be there to heal me. When I'm afraid of the changes around me...He's going to be there to remind me that He's holding in His hands. My Father is so good. So, now I end with this song...<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fFfw6OSbUwE" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fFfw6OSbUwE</a>.<br />
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So yes, I'm afraid to go. The changes and challenges that await scare the pants off of me. I will miss my parents, my sister, my brother. I will miss my friends, my church family, my work family. I will be sad with every big event that I miss. I will long for this homeland often. I will cry and just want to be back here. I will wish I could visit more often. But I think I'm ready. Me and Jesus are going to Africa, and He is going to do some amazing things. I am ready to truly know what the words "My life for the Gospel" means. I am ready to run, scream, cry, love, work, pray, teach, preach, and whatever else. I am ready to leave everything I have known for the live that Jesus has called me to live. I'm ready to face every fear as it comes and to lay every fear at His feet.<br />
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So I will say it, and may Jesus always remind me of these words...<br />
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<i><b>My life for the Gospel </b></i></div>
<br />The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273757633593824437.post-37344421874876046062014-04-24T00:04:00.000-07:002014-04-24T00:04:00.587-07:00The one about balance. Since my last post, I feel like so much has happened. So, please, sit back, relax, and let me update you on my life (not that it's really<em> that</em> exciting). <br />
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1. I hosted an<strong> Ibirori</strong>. That right there is the Kinyarwanda (language in Rwanda) for a party or celebration. I made food from east Africa: rice, beans, potatoes, cabbage, chapatti (a flat bread), mandazi (a donut like treat) and tea (both black and with milk). I was able to share about my year in Africa (and how awesome it was!) and what I am doing next. God is so good! From that night alone, <strong>Jesus provided over $1000!</strong> Woo! <br />
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2. Because of said partay, I was able to book my flight! Well, round one of flights. <br />
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3. Again, thanks to that same night, <strong>God has raised up a few more monthly supporters</strong>. Woo! (Again!)<br />
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4. The day after I booked my flight, I found out my start date changed. Not that I should have been surprised that something in Africa changed slightly last minute, I, however, wasn't ready for it. <strong>So, God gave me two more weeks here in MI!</strong> Hooray for more time with my lovely family and for my visa to get approved, I hope. =) <br />
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5. Because of previously mentioned date change, I had to change my flight. Again, Jesus is awesome and worked that out<strong>. For only $52 more</strong>, I had my flight change to the correct dates. <br />
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6. So, now I have dates all set!<strong> Leave Detroit on June 10</strong>, arrive in Kigali, Rwanda on June 11. Have some days to visit with all my favorite YWAM family and then <strong>head to Tanzania around June 14.</strong> <strong>Then, on June 16, it's time to learn about counseling for ministry!</strong> <br />
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6. This one isn't really Africa related, but it was pretty exciting. Easter Sunday, I had the opportunity to speak at my church. Our theme was <strong>Change: from fear to freedom</strong> - that's something that I have been able to preach in Rwanda, Uganda, Sudan and Burundi, and now, in good ole 'Merica! <br />
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OK, that about catches you up on my life. Pretty exciting, huh? Well, I think so. But only because Jesus is so amazing! So with the remaining weeks winding down, I am working and praying like crazy for the final things to come together. Maybe too much work.<br />
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See, God has<em> blessed</em> (no really, blessed, I'm not just using that word to sound like a better Christian) with an awesome job. If you don't already know, I work at a homeless shelter for women and children. It's a great job because it's a ministry. My co-workers are all believers and we do this for the sake of the Gospel. Showing Jesus love through meeting the physical needs of food, shelter and hope. I worked here for all of 2012 and was actually pretty sad to say goodbye when I was preparing to go to Rwanda. When I felt God leading me home for a season, I contacted my boss. Hoping for anything but expecting only a few hours a week. I was fully expecting that I would have to do the two job thing again. But, again, <strong>Jesus is awesome</strong>. Now, I work in the kitchen, on the dorm room floors (more directly with the ladies and kids) and security (including overnight security).<br />
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But even though I love my job, sometimes I don't feel like coming to work. I just want to sleep during the night, like a normal person, instead of during the day. Sometimes I don't want to talk, confront or listen to people. I'm just tired. Now, this portion of the post is called <strong>balance</strong>. And balance is the exact thing that my dear friends have been telling me about. When I decided to come home, I knew it would be a season of working a lot and being tired. But I also knew it should be a season of being my loved ones here, enjoying my time here and getting things together to head back. <br />
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However, my mind gets stuck on one of those things: <strong>work</strong>. And everything in me tells to pick up every extra shift I can. The same thing tells me that I can sleep later and that I'm supposed to be tired. However, I realized, that voice is the voice of fear. As some of my lovely friends pointed out, I have this fear that I wont have the money that I need. So out of that fear, I am willing to work so much that I am practically dead to the world. And it took them practically yelling at me (even over the world wide interwebs) for it to finally click. <strong>Jesus is good. He is faithful. He knows my need. He will provide.</strong> <br />
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After I type all of this, I can't really remember why I decided to post all of this. Maybe I just needed to type it out so I can see it, read it and get it into my head. But there it is. That's my life right now. <br />
So, if you want to join me, I would love if you could pray with me for some things! Here's the list! <br />
1.<strong> Sanity:</strong> I know it sounds silly, but really, I need it! Between working and getting things together, pray that I can function and make the most of my time here. <br />
2.<strong> Visa:</strong> I have applied for a Visa for Tanzania. Pray that it is approved in a timely manner! I really do not want to be stranded in the airport. <br />
3.<strong> Finances:</strong> To be honest, I still have a lot of need. Pray that God would raise some people up to help meet those needs. <br />
4. <strong>Safety:</strong> During travel, once in Tanzania and in Rwanda. None of that missing plane stuff. <br />
5. <strong>Confidence:</strong> With all the new things and changes, these next steps look a bit scary. Pray that God would remind me of who He is and would give me confidence to walk in what He's called me to. <br />
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Alright, that's it for now! Thanks for taking time to read all of this and joining me in prayer. You're the best! <br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Joanna</span> <br />
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The Path:http://www.blogger.com/profile/13645950281408394381noreply@blogger.com0