mumford & sons: the cave

lyrics:
It's empty in the valley of your heart
The sun, it rises slowly as you walk
Away from the fears
And all the faults you've left behind

The harvest left no food for you to eat
You cannibal, you meat-eater, you see
But I have seen the same
I know the shame in your defeat

But I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again

Cause I have other things to fill my time
You take what is yours and I'll take mine
Now let me at the truth
Which will refresh my broken mind

So tie me to a post and block my ears
I can see widows and orphans through my tears
I know my call despite my faults
And despite my growing fears

But I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again

So come out of your cave walking on your hands
And see the world hanging upside down
You can understand dependence
When you know the maker's hand

So make your siren's call
And sing all you want
I will not hear what you have to say

Cause I need freedom now
And I need to know how
To live my life as it's meant to be

And I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again

dinner with a friend

Tonight we went out for Thai food – yum! The best part was having dinner with a friend and the conversation that took place. “I bet you will be with SP for many years to come…or maybe not” is how it began. What sets our organization apart from the many other international relief and development organizations out here doing exactly the same projects? I rattle off the automatic response, well rehearsed from countless introductions. Hmm. We talk of purpose. Money. A healthy life. Why are we here? Is what we do making any kind of difference? What kind of difference do we want to make? How does this line of work shape who we are and who we become? The questions seem endless and full of deep thought when going beyond the rehearsed responses. Of course these questions I wrestle with often, but to be honest, this position has been more peaceful in my heart. Not in my mind. I struggle with many things to get through some days. But I wonder what counts more: a peace in our hearts or a peace of mind? God gave us a mind to think and use and he gives us discernment, we wrestle at times and make decisions. But my heart is calm. That has to count for something too.

I don’t know what the future holds or how long I will be here. I do know that right now, I have peace in my heart. As we conversed over spicy shrimp and coconut chicken, battling the questions that often awake us in the middle of the night or become a hot topic of conversation with friends, I kept going back to knowing that peace is not mine. It is given and I will hold on until it is taken. Some days, tightly. :)

There’s a song I can’t get out of my head. Let me share with you…

homeless youth

This morning I visited one of our local ministry partners here in Maputo, Mozambique. It’s a drop in center for street children. A place they can come for meals, safety, small-business training and assistance reintegrating with their families and communities. The center is open only during business hours; it’s not an overnight shelter. There are literacy and mathematics classes during the day, along with staff that hang out and befriend the children, providing guidance and advice upon need. Hygiene kits are provided, donated clothing, assistance finding shelter for the night. The center began through a local church congregation ministry and has turned into a self-sustaining non-profit organization. The vision of those who began the center is alive and ministering years later in their home city. Our organization partners with the center in providing financial and project support. We met this morning to discuss starting a chicken-rearing project and possibly a pilot site for a new urban farming project.

As I toured the center, met some of the kids and spoke with the staff, I was reminded of our homeless youth programs at home. They are set up in the very same way. What struck me is the needs of these “street kids” are the same as the needs of our “homeless youth” in the states. Names change to account for being politically correct, but the needs are the same. Children run from broken homes, get into trouble with drugs or the wrong group of friends, and end finding themselves struggling to survive on their own long before they should have to. Sometimes the broken homes can be mended, sometimes the best option is to pull out and start over. If the later happens, these children need skills to survive and a support system to call home. Centers such as this one exist for that purpose. As they do in Minneapolis, Brainerd and Duluth.

I am thousands of miles from my home today; and yet I feel as if I am back in the office at LSS hearing of immediate needs and thinking of ways to best address them with very little resources. Whether we refer to them as street kids in Africa or homeless youth in our urban cities in the US, their needs are the same. We all need a place to call home.

drilling for water

She dreamed of a washing machine.

The drilling rig arrived just as the sun began to heat up the dry Mocuba sand. Twelve extensions of 6 meters each and one very large drill bit began to slowly dig into the earth. Just seven meters down it hit granite. Continuing to spiral through, fervent prayers went up. 72 meters the drill went down. It was dry. No water was to be found.

We are visiting a preschool / medical clinic / sewing project / center in Mocuba that ministers to vulnerable mothers and children in the area. Many who are orphans or have lost parents from HIV. The center is run by a passionate missionary woman who has dedicated the past 17 years of her life in this little town, in this community for service. An amazing act of faith! And a great encouragement.

She currently has one 7 meter hand dug well and two large cisterns which store captured rain water. Three months out of the year there is no water to be found; it must be trucked in from town. Sometimes there is no water in town. The drilling today is one of excitement and anticipation.

The disappointment was palpable.

the spanish mortician

I am sitting in the Maputo airport, the dingy domestic waiting area, before our flight up to Quelimane and eventually on to Mocuba. I will be spending the week speaking with communities and assessing a couple different districts on their water and sanitation needs for an upcoming project we are proposing for funding. There is a short, bald, bushy eyebrow man sitting across the room that looks all too familiar to me. I ask my colleagues where I know him from; assuming he was introduced to me through one of our business relationships. Nope, neither of the guys has seen him before.

Our wait lasted a couple hours; half of them in a black out. By the way, how do airplanes fly when there is no electricity in the control towers?? Not important, evidently. So the familiarity of this man sitting across the room finally hits me!! I smell formaldehyde. It is the Spanish mortician from Quelimane that diagnosed my last case of malaria and sent me home to the states.

This will be my first trip back to Quelimane since I left in 2009; feverish and with zilch patience left for all things Mozambique. It is unfortunate, the way I left. I am grateful to go back. A little excited to see the area and what has or has not changed. Sad to have missed my friends by a month; I could use Brian’s agricultural expertise on this trip. Mozambique has taken on a new charm this year than I remember from my time living here. Each field trip we’ve taken has shed a refreshing and new sight for Mozambique and its communities. It’s a beautiful country. I’m excited for this coming week; though I am told Mocuba is an extension of the armpit of the country. We shall see. My challenge will be to find its beauty! And to stay as far away from the mortician as I possibly can!! Wish me luck.

Psalms 57

"Show me your favor, God. Show me your favor.
I go to you for safety.
I will find safety in the shadow of your wings.
There I will stay until the danger is gone.

I cry out to God Most High.
I cry out to God, and he carries out his plan for me.
He answers from heaven and saves me.
He puts to shame those who chase me.
He shows me his love and his truth.

Men who are like lions are all around me.
I am lying down among hungry animals.
Their teeth are like spears and arrows.
Their tongues are like sharp swords.

God, may you be honored above the heavens.
Let your glory be over the whole earth.

My enemies spread a net to catch me by the feet.
I felt helpless.
They dug a pit in my path.
But they fell into it themselves.

God, my heart feels secure.
My heart feels secure.
I will sing and make music to you.
My spirit, wake up!
I want to sing and make music before the sun rises.

Lord, I will praise you among the nations.
I will sing about you among the people of the earth.
Great is your love. It reaches the heavens.
Your truth reaches to the skies.

God, may you be honored above the heavens.
Let you glory be over the whole earth."

The morning sun has not yet risen here in Nairobi. My jetleg awoke me long before the birds did. My email is flooded with reports of war and famine - literally. My dreams held the same last night. At home my family is in the midst of deep prayer for a loved one who is to undergo surgery in 12 hours. I find comfort in this Psalm. To hear God's promise of securing our hearts, securing our safety in the middle of turmoil and war. He is our safety. Over all the earth His glory will shine. His promise will remain true. That includes an ICU hospital room in WI, a mothers arms holding her starving child in Kenya, and a displaced village under attack in the Nuba Mountains.

God, may you be honored above the heavens. Let your glory be over the whole earth.

home, sweet home.

I am so happy to have had a couple weeks at home with my family. It was a surprise and very quick visit - I'm still missing all my friends stateside! But oh so wonderful to spend some sweet family time in the summertime. Here are a few highlights:

Teaching Ada Joy to walk!

Fresh veggies (check out that garden!)

Hi Fives!

Morning walks around Lake Nokomis

Papa with his 10 foot corn!

A night out with my sisters :-)

Little sweat monster (who steals popsicles & starbucks drinks!)

Giggles & kisses (repeat)

Story time (in the wee hours before Auntie Kristi is awake!)

and staying cool.

Thank you for the wonderful visit! (And no, I do not love Africa more!)
Missing you already...

All my love,
Auntie Kristi

Colossians 1:11

"May you be strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance and patience." A friend shared this with me the other day - that God's power is active in us to enable us to patiently persevere.

I need an extra dose, please! To be strengthened with power, God's power and might, to endure and persevere. What does that look like? I love my job. I really do. I enjoy living in Africa, being a part of something greater, constantly learning new things. But as I've recently been reminded, I'm still human and no matter how much I love doing this job and living in these foreign homes, I can't do it alone. Not by my strength nor might. I seem to have none. My days here start and end in prayer. Sometimes the middle of the day is also consumed on my knees, but I can't get through the days without it. And when I try, I see how nonexistent my patience is, I wonder where my kindness has gone, and when and where I lost my empathy. The thing is, I never really had any of those. They are God's. And without him, this work I'm doing is in vain. And not helpful to anyone.

I recently asked for help, I needed a break. It was wonderful, but I'm still looking for that empathy I feel got lost somewhere admist the work. Which doesn't make sense, I know. Starving children and grieving parents would break anyone's heart. And they have broken mine several times over. But who puts the heart back together and gives endurance to continue to allow it to be broken again?

There is a cruel reality to the humanitarian relief work. A cynicism, an addiction, a cycle that needs to be broken at times to make it whole again. The truth is none of us can do it alone. The very definition of humanity is "human beings collectively". We need each other. And we need God's communion to be strengthened by his might, provided with endurance and endless patience to persevere through the broken hearts. I am thankful each day that my job is part of a Christian organization, a family, who also gains their strength and endurance through our Father's great might. That we share grace and forgiveness with each other when the cynicism and addiction takes over. By addiction, I am referring to this overwhelming need that gnaws inside of you to keep working, keep pushing, to save the human race. Ridiculous, I know. But it does play a part when you are face to face with poverty and destruction on a daily basis. You either don't notice because the sight is so common, or you are blinded with anger at the injustice and that fuels the obsession to work even harder.

I am reminded that I was not asked to do this alone. That God's power is active and enabling. And that in the midst of the injustice, the starvation and the pain, God sees each one of his children, he feels their pain and he will bring them relief. Not me, I'm not here doing it alone. God's hand is active and touching the lives of those hurting every day. I urge each of us to continue to be on our knees in prayer for those in a present crisis - whether they are suffering from famine here in East Africa or are your family and friends at home, we all need each other.