Real faith

Persecution. It comes in many forms. For many of us who live in Western cultures (what does that even really mean….Europe is considered Western but it’s east of the US, north of Africa….Western from what is the question….anyway…) persecution for faith boils down to words, criticism of belief, and arguments. But for so many other people it comes in the form of violence. It makes me sick, physically ill at times to think about people that are being physically persecuted for their faith, no matter what it is.

We thought we were fortunate here in Senegal to only see emotional persecution and minor physical (like not feeding someone) persecution. We’ve seen people steal from believers, lie to their faces, call them names and shun them. But we’d not seen physical violence. Until yesterday.

It was supposed to be a normal trip to the village but when we arrived we knew something was different. A young believer we work with, who is smarter than anyone I’ve met here, more intuitive and who has a natural understanding of some really hard spiritual topics, came up and we could immediately see that something was wrong. He had rope burns on his arms and the gaping wound that was almost completely healed on his leg from two months ago was open and bleeding. It turns out that his brothers had tied him up and tried to drag him around. He fought back and ended up not be drug, but still received wounds. They hit his leg and reopened his almost healed wound. They were mad that he was a follower of Jesus and they thought he was being disrespectful to their father.

A little back-story….”Cassius” has worked for his dad for several years, saving up money so that he could go to Europe and make the real cash. He trusted his dad with his money but after he accepted Christ, his dad refused to give him his money. We’re talking quite a sum of money. Then “Cassius” bought some oil that he was going to send up to Dakar and sell. He put it at the shop and the next day it was gone with no explanation. When he went to his dad to ask about where his oil was, his brother got angry.  Through all of this, “Cassius” has remained faithful, forgiving and respectful of his father and brothers. He’s turned his cheek, figured out ways to get other money, and continued to work every day for his dad.  His brothers sleep in the hut that “Cassius” owns and he refuses to kick them out.

We left “Cassius” last night in the village after begging him to come with us. He said he’d come into town today. When he showed up today, he had new injuries. They tied him up again and beat him telling him to renounce Christ. But he refused. He probably has a broken rib. When we asked him to stay tonight in town, he said that he needed to go back to show them that he wasn’t afraid. To show them that they could physically hurt him, but he would not turn away from Christ.

This response amazes me, makes me wonder. We all say that we would stand for Christ no matter what, but do we actually mean that? If I was tied up, beaten within inches of our lives, would be still cling to Christ? Or would I give him up to stop the pain? Would I continue to socialize with the people that did this to me? Would I continue to allow them to live in my house and feed them with my money? How long could I turn the other cheek? Would I be capable of this kind of real faith?

“Cassius” went back to his village a few hours ago and I’m afraid for him. I’m afraid that we won’t see him again. He says that they can’t kill him because the village doesn’t agree with how his family is treating him, but that won’t prevent them from trying to get as close as they can.  Please pray with me today. Pray for protection for “Cassius” tonight. Pray that his family’s hearts are softened. Pray that they don’t harm him tonight, but if they do that he continues to have the peace of Christ overwhelm him. Pray for his strength, for his endurance, and for Christ’s love to engulf him. Pray that he continues to seek out God and that he hears clear direction on where to go next. And pray for us, that we can be the fellow followers that we need to be, to support him without creating dependency, to love the people that are doing this to him and to continue to seek God’s direction as this is all new to us.

But more than anything pray that “Cassius’” family will come to know the Christ that has changed his life so that as a family they can worship God together.

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Too soon

Today we lost a brother. Today one of our brothers in Christ went to be with his heavenly Father. He was young. Young enough to not be out of high school yet. Too young to leave this place. But God is in control and while we may not understand it we can cling to His promises. We can cling to knowing that we will see our brother again in heaven and walk hand in hand with him. Please pray with us for our brother’s family, for his friends and his village as they grieve his departure. Pray with us that maybe someone will come to know Christ through this painful time. 

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As happy as a bird with a french fry

"I will not go hooommmmeeee. I will not go hooommmeeee. I will not go.....".

Every time we visit Michael's house his second youngest daughter "Sarah" begs and begs to go on a car ride. One time we took her mom, her sister and her down the street on our way home and her mom had to literally drag her out the car while she screamed bloody murder. I tried really hard not to laugh but it was hilarious. Her mom threw her over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes and Sarah just stuck her arms out screaming my name. Like her mom was a stranger and she was being taken away from her family forever. Again...kinda hilarious.

When we took our volunteers the other day, as usual Sarah followed us to the car and beat on the doors saying that she wanted to go with us. I felt so awful that I promised that I would come back at the end of the day and take her and her two older siblings for a ride. And as promised a volunteer, A, and I arrived with big smiles and promises of a great time in the truck. 

We got in the truck and Sarah started waving at all the kids on the street yelling "Buuhhhbyyyeeee!!!" And lots waving. I'm pretty sure there was waving like a prom queen involved . We drove around for about 30 minutes, just laughing and having a blast. A kept trying to take her picture and she would stop smiling long enough for the picture and then burst into a fit of giggles. Needless to say, A didn't end up with a smiling photo. 

After 30 minutes or so I started heading back to their house but I thought I was doing it subtly. This was not the case. All of the sudden Sarah stuck her bottom lip out as far as she could get it and started saying in THE most pathetic voice, "I will not go home. I will not go home. I will not go." It was so funny!! I tried and tried and tried not to laugh and reminded her that her mom would be very sad if she didn't come home but she wasn't having it. She just crossed her arms and pouted, chanting " I will not go home" until we arrived. 

As we all piled out of the car, she just sat there pouting and looking like she was about to erupt into tears. Finally her mom came over and pulled her out of the car. She cried and cried until she noticed that her older sister had found a brochure in our car with photos on it. A fight ensued until I could find her something of her own. Are you ready? A Texas Baptist Convention newsletter (hope the teammates don't mind!). Yes that is what I gave a screaming crying 3 or 4 year old. And she was as happy as a bird with a french fry. She ran off laughing and wouldn't even say goodbye to us. Again...hilarious!

So that's Sarah. She is as ornery as can be. Shows you she loves you by hitting you and banging on your car until you give her a ride. She is spoiled rotten! And I love her! I think I'm just glad I can give her back at the end of the day or 30 minutes :)

She has ornery written all over her face!

Oh Sarah...what are we to do with you?!

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The little things

When I went back to the States it was really surreal. On the way back home it felt like I hadn't been gone very long, but when we drove up to my family's house and the trees were 10 ft taller, the house was completely redecorated and landscaping was different it felt like I had been gone longer than 3.5 years.

The few people I saw asked three questions: How does it feel to be back home? What do you want to do/eat? What is on your shopping list? In all honesty I felt completely stupid answering these questions. Not because the questions were stupid, but because I really didn't have anything on my list. My list was small and full of really small items like coffee from 222 Bakery downtown, St. Louis Bread Co., a jeans needle for my sewing machine and gold sharpies.

Sidenote: I LOVE Sharpies. If you ever want to make my day, send me sharpies. Any color, any size will do. I will think you are the best and most thoughtful friend EVER!

Back to my list. It was really small. Command strips. Jeans needle. Contact paper. Outlet plates. Drywall screws. Concealer. I did manage to pack up another storage locker and a suitcase full of things to bring back. Beef jerky for B, fruit snacks, Starburst, a new hat for B and some new earrings. Small stuff.

American goodies..deodorant, gold sharie, eye makeup, contact paper, chalkboard, travel wallet,  iTouch stand

Looking back on the trip I think it was much needed. We will have served for 4 years before we leave this wonderful country for a bit. Most people get really focused on their last few months, counting down the days and hours until they get back to the States. It can really impede the ministry that you are doing because your focus is no longer here. I have been slightly worried about this, hoping that I could keep myself busy and focused, but after this trip I know it won't be a problem. It was just what I needed to finish our term here strong. A good long hug from my grandparents. Many many laughs with my family. Some Cracker Barrel pancakes and a QT Diet Mountain Dew fountain soda. 7 months doesn't seem so long now!

Cracker Barrel pancakes are THE best!!

Diet Mountain Dew fountain soda from QT..the first stop out of the airport :)

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A wedding and many tears

Earlier this year I had another one of those "firsts" that you experience living overseas. Another reminder that you are terribly far away from loved ones and not in any way a part of their normal life any more. Another thing that you don't get to be a part of like others do, another thing that you have to fight to feel like you belong.

My brother got engaged. 

This was really hard for me, not only because he will always be my little brother whom I worry about, love more than he can know and am so proud of, but because I didn't get to experience it with him or my family. I didn't know the girl woman that he feel in love with. I didn't get to see the ring or hear about the dates. I didn't get to be there for the anxiousness before the proposal. I just wasn't there. I was here, in West Africa, reminding myself that I followed God's will for me and I was supposed to be here not there. 

Living overseas can create a deep need to belong. To not be excluded. You no longer get invitations to weddings, baby showers, wedding showers, birthday parties. You can sometimes feel left out. Despite family/friends trying their best to include you, sometimes it's just impossible to feel included.  In fact some people don't share things with you because they don't want you to feel left out. But it just makes it worse. All we really want to hear is how great it was and how much you wish that we were there too. So when all this happened with my brother, I felt so excluded. Left out. Which was selfish of me, terribly selfish. 

Which got me thinking...how many times do I do this exact thing to God? I leave Him out of my plans all too often. I don't talk to Him enough or trust in Him enough. I exclude Him, make Him feel like He doesn't belong in my life. In little things mostly, but sometimes the big things. I wonder how that makes Him feel. 

All too often I, we, become absorbed in our own feelings and lose sight of what really matters. God. Others. I had to take a step back, a huge step and realize that despite my feelings being valid, they weren't what mattered. What matters is God and what He desires my life to be. What matters is my brother's happiness. Yes my feelings were real, needed to be heard and sympathized with, but then my focus needs to be on Him who gives me this huge opportunity each day. Who allows me to be a part of something bigger than myself. My focus needs to be on other people's happiness. My joy needs to come from Him and through Him. My brother's happiness should (and does) make me happy. It didn't matter what I felt, what mattered is what my brother felt. 

I'm happy to report that my brother is now married to a wonderful woman who I had the pleasure of finally meeting and who I look forward to knowing better when we are in the States. My wonderful amazing self sacrificing parents paid for me to come back for the wedding and (despite a rough start) I was able to watch my brother make the second most important decision of his life. I was able to enjoy a few days in America (more later) and do some shopping. And I was able to hug my grandparents (this was huge because I didn't get to hug my grandma goodbye), several of my aunts, and a few great friends.

Happy Day!!

And I might have had my hair cut :) And had my hair revitalized :) 

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Harold

Some of you may have heard a smattering on the news a couple months back about some kids in the capital that died in a fire. They were young boys that were given to a teacher so they could learn the Qu'ran. It was devasting and caused a quite a stir in our country, but as quickly as it happened it was forgotten. People moved on with their lives and the uproar was quelched in many hearts.

I have not forgotten. I can't forget because everyday I am surrounded by these boys, normal kids, some of whom were taken from their homes, sold or kidnapped to be in service of these "teachers". There is a constant internal battle in my heart about how to help, if I can help and what difference any of it would make. One of our biggest struggles is not being the white person who hands out money to solve the problem, who doesn't actual care, who doesn't take into consideration the culture, who just makes things worse. It's easy to say that things other cultures practice are wrong and it's even easier to throw money at the problem in hopes that it will go away. Like I said, every day when I see these boys begging on the street for money for their teacher, for food for their teacher or even food for themselves, my heart breaks into pieces. If I could, I would adopt every one of them. I seriously would.

Enter "Harold"

How could you not love this face?!

Harold says that he is 14 although he looks more like 10. He doesn't know where his village is or the name of it. He simply knows that it's near the country to the south. He is quiet but when he speaks his voice is hoarse like that of a smoker. He's skinny. He has THE best smile! He's respectful. And he calls B his dad.

B met him in the market one day with all his fellow "friends", i.e. the boys that he "learns" with and begs with, and B bought some fruit, peeled it (so they are forced to eat it) and gave it to them all. And that simple act was enough to make Harold seek B out. The second time we saw Harold I was with B and again we bought some fruit, peeled it and gave it to him. But this time he asked us questions, which doesn't really happen. Where are you from? How long have you been here? Do you have any kids? Will you be my parents?....wait what? Excuse me?? Did he just say that?? Instantly my heart crumbled and I'm pretty sure I cried on the way home.

We didn't see Harold for a couple months because we were busy, but when he found us again he came running with a huge beautiful smile and said "I thought you left me." Again...crumbled. So B invited him and his friends over for lunch. Now I have to admit that I was a little nervous because these kids travel in packs! Usually there are anywhere from 3-10 kids all begging together so we weren't sure what to expect for lunch. But at 1pm there was a knock on our door and there stood Harold. All by his lonesome. We asked where his friends were and he just shrugged, came in, washed and ate. We prayed with him, for him and thanked God for the opportunity to show love to Harold. We told him to come back every week at a certain time and we'd have lunch for him and whoever he wanted to bring. "Thanks Dad and Mom" was all he said and then he left. He's come back every week by himself for lunch. We think that he just wants the time to himself. Last week B shared with him some Bible stories when Harold asked what we did here. Techinically this is illegal so B kept it brief. We tell him that we do this because Jesus loves him, because God commands us to love others. Each time he stays a little bit longer, plays with our dogs and just talks. And every time before he leaves he says "Thanks Dad and Mom."

This is our small way of showing these boys that God loves him. I know it's only one boy, but this one boy has a full belly once a week, gets a hug and a smile and gets some love. We keep telling Harold to bring some friends, so we'll see if he ever does. I pray for these boys and their families. I pray that somehow the laws here will change, that people will recognize the plight of these boys, that somehow God break through into this darkness and that these boys will somehow have the chance feel our Father's love.

If you'd like to know more about these boys, check out this link here or here or feel free to message me with questions.

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Getting rid of the old

Fabric and clothes have been on my mind lately, mostly due to Gazelle Skirt, a fashion blog that some friends up north started. They put out a Outfit of the Day challenge for a week and I thought "why not?" But then I started looking at my clothes and realized that I haven't had a new outfit made in two years!

Having clothes made by a tailor is a normal part of life for me and thousands of other women who live in Africa. For me it's a bit stressful because I'm not the most decisive person in the world. It's hard for me to pick a style sometimes out of the 15 magazines I have to choose from or out of the 15 million (that may be a slight exaggeration) people walking around. Most of the time it's pretty easy for me to find the fabric I want. Actually B would say that most of the time it's hard for me to find fabric I don't want :) He's probably right!

So I bit the proverbial bullet and cleaned out my drawers, throwing giving away two bags full of clothes. American t-shirts mostly and some skirts that I just don't wear or that are kinda worn out. Then I took some fabric to a new tailor and some fabric to my usual tailor to see which one I liked better. My usual tailor is great. He's inexpensive, does a great job on construction, but he's not creative in any way shape or form! So unless I pick out or take him a very specific outfit, he's stuck. But this new tailor I went to had tons of magazines, was invested in helping me find a vision for my outfit and was much more expensive. All in all they both did a great job and I have some new outfits!

Headed to a wedding
 in my new rainbow outfit :)

Off to the village

I also picked up an outfit from a tailor I tried back in October that has been gone since then. Needless to say, I won't be using him again!

Although it took forever, he did
a good job on this
 pink and blue metallic wax print. 

Sometimes it's so refreshing to get rid of the old!!

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