Dear {Pre-Africa} Self

 I remember you well; ambitious and eager.    All the years of planning, prayer, support-raising, thoughts of what your new life would bring finally came to reality.  You embarked upon the adventure of your life.

 I have some news that will be hard for you, in your enthusiastic state, to believe. You are going to fail.  Almost two years into your life in Africa and you will wake up in the middle of the night feeling desperate and determined to go back home.  It’s because you weren’t ready.  You really weren’t ready to die to self like you thought you were.  Sure, you were ready to leave home, family, familiar life and friends, a language you knew and a culture that you understood, but you weren’t ready for the complete and utter reliance that you would need to have upon your Savior.  You had enough reliance upon yourself to last you at least…well, at least 1 year and 9 months.

I am going to list for you some circumstances and emotions that you are going to face.   They will be hard but they are not the real problem.  They are revealers, grace-filled revealers of your real problem.  They will reveal your great sin of disbelief in the power and goodness of your Father to sustain you. 

“Nothing can hurt you except sin; nothing can grieve me except sin; nothing can defeat you except sin. Therefore, be on your guard, my Mansoul.”

― John Bunyan, The Holy War

First, you need to know that you will struggle with things that you never imagined struggling with.  You will feel so desperate for friendship and acceptance that you will almost lose who you are.  The sins in which you already knew that you struggled with will nearly consume you and the sins you never knew would tempt you will come.  They will come and you will be shocked.  You will face spiritual battles and discouragement like never before.

The children whose pictures made you cry during your mission’s presentation will sometimes make you angry. Sometimes they will frustrate you and hurt your children.  They will be ungrateful.  You will struggle loving them at times.  It won’t come natural anymore.  There are times you will have to fight to show grace and compassion.  This will shock you because you never dreamed that the day would come that you would need to look to God for the compassion that you lack.  It used to come so easy.  

You will see pain and death, a lot of it.  You will comfort babies in their last days of life; whispering songs and verses and promises of heaven in their little ears.  You will hold the hands of mothers who have just lost their children.  You will watch in horror as women gather their children, gasping for air, around to share the only oxygen machine in the hospital.  You will see the horrors of AIDS and pray over the frail body of a woman in her final days. You will see more death and disease than your brain will be able to process.   You will have to tell people no. You will run out of money to give.  You won’t have answers.  You will be afraid.  You will feel so desperate and angry at poverty and a broken system that the people you love are sinking into.  You will feel helpless.  You will question everything that you thought you understood about the doctrine of suffering and the Sovereignty of God.  It will hurt.

You will have to say no over and over again to people that you love.  You will constantly struggle with when to give and when to say no. You will feel like you are losing your mind when you literally don’t have one more dollar in your account left to give, but you still drive home in a car in which a tank of gas costs more than most family’s monthly income.  It will confuse you.  You will question why you have material wealth and those you love are hungry.  You will feel sick and disgusted at all you have.  But then, you will look at the lives of your friends on facebook and quickly find yourself wanting more.  Your extremes will confuse you.  You will start to truly understand that material wealth on this earth means nothing in the Kingdom of God and can offer no eternal hope.  You will start to see how blinding and distracting wealth is and somehow grow sadder for your rich friends than your poor friends. 

You will have your plans changed more times than you can count.  You will have your heart set on things that the Lord sees fit to change.  You will learn and hold dear to Prov 27:1 Don’t boast about tomorrow. You don’t know what it will bring.  Prov 19:21 where we read about our many plans but the Lord’s plans prevailing above them all. You will understand why James 4 tells us to say “if the Lord wills we will do this or that.”  Your will feel confused, embarrassed and you will be tempted to feel like a failure.  People back home won’t understand and that furthers the distance you feel between your new life and your old.

You will miss your family more than your heart can stand.  Your heart will break as you watch their lives move on without you.  You will miss their hugs and laughter, their honesty and love.  You will miss having people around that know and adore your children.   You will be surprised that in selfishness sometimes you just don’t want to talk to them because it’s easier that day to forget how much you miss them.  It will frustrate you and break your heart that there is so much of your life that is hard for them understand now.  You will miss milestones and it will hurt.  You will try to stay strong on skype so they don’t see you cry. 

Learning a language will be frustrating and humiliating at times.  You will say inappropriate things on accident and you will embarrass yourself and others.  You will progress slow and each step will be rewarding.  You will start to develop strong meaningful relationships.  When you first get here you will hate not being able to understand what people are saying about you as you walk by…after a while you will wish for that blissful ignorance back.  After almost two years you will still feel frustrated when you can’t understand your distraught friend on the phone.  You will feel angry when you want to share Scripture with a hurting friend, but you only know it in English.  Learning a language is way harder than you thought but also so much more rewarding then you ever imagined.   Each new word and concept is a key that unlocks more of this new culture and a window into the hearts of those you love.

You will long for a day when you can look and feel like a normal human again.  Your selfishness and pride will show through as you grow more and more tired and impatient of walking down the street and being laughed at, mocked, and beckoned.  The word “Mzungu” (white person) will start to really, I mean really, get on your nerves.  Sometimes you will have enough and you will lash back at people that “you do have a name and it’s not mzungu.” You will need to repent of your impatience.  There are days when you will find it very hard to leave the comforts of your home.  Those comforts of home will also become idols that you will need to repent of.

You will plead with your friend, Judy, a prostitute not to “go to work” that night…she will go.  You will be tempted to become bitter at men who capitalize off of the desperation in which an impoverished woman feels.  You will cringe and hold back tears at the stories shared by trusted friends of their home-abortions.  You will want to help and then you will feel deep discouragement when you don’t know where to begin.

You will be discouraged by those that have done this whole missions thing here in Tanzania longer than you have.  You will feel like a failure.  They won’t mean it, but they will be one of the greatest discouragements of your time on the mission field.  Pray for them.  Serve them.  They are hurting too.  Remember to listen close and learn all that you can, but not to let the fear of man consume you.  By the way, it will at times and your amazing husband will help you out with that one.  Also, God will bless you by bringing some wonderful missionaries, full of wisdom, your way too.

You will be robbed.  People you trust will hurt you.  You will have police warn you that people you once trusted may be plotting to poison your well to kill your family.  You will be afraid.  You will be tempted to become cynical and distrusting of everyone.  Your kids will get sick. They will get worms, lice, malaria, infections, typhoid, and have flies burrow in their skin. Your fear will tempt to overtake you.  You will want out.

Speaking of children.  They will struggle too.  You will hate watching them struggle more than anything.  They will cry for home and you will cry with them.  They will feel like outcasts and struggle with fear.  They will feel alone and frustrated.  They will struggle with a new language and you will have to learn to let them struggle.  You will start to understand that it is okay for them to be a little uncomfortable.  God is doing a work in their hearts too.  You will see HIS love and comfort consume them and you will see proof of HIS work in their lives.  They will teach you about faith.

All these things and many more will fill your heart and your time.  You will be tired.  You didn’t know what tired meant until you lived here.  You will give more of yourself than you probably should.  Draw lines and make time for rest.

It’s 4:45 a.m. now.  You will wake up and for the first time really, I mean really, want to go home.  You will say to your husband, “We aren’t capable of doing what we were sent here to do.”  You will be right.  He will agree with you. The Lord will hear your brokenness and He will remind of you what you already knew.    Psalm 138:8 “For though the LORD is high, he regards the lowly, but the haughty he knows from afar.”  

You have been haughty.  You have tried to get away with your “just enough” Christianity long enough.  Your life here demands and depends upon your deep abiding relationship with Christ.  You will fail without it. 

Stop writing your shallow newsletters back home and share the struggle.  Share God’s faithfulness through hardships.  Tell people that you, on your own, aren’t a very good missionary.  Be humble enough to admit your trials so that others may learn and turn to God.  Be confident in saying the words, “His strength is made perfect in my weakness.”  Be free from fear of man and share the weakness.  Know that God is at work and that one day we will look back at all HE has done and only HE will receive the glory. 

That desperation and realization that “you can’t do this job” is God’s grace.  It is a gift that awoke you this morning.  Your Heavenly Father is beckoning you to give it up, cast your burdens upon Him.  Repent of your lack of faith and turn to your gracious, merciful Heavenly Father.  Like King David, let these bones that HE has broken cry out to HIM.  Don’t doubt HIS goodness again.  Remember the broken state of “self-reliance” and don’t go there again.

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30

“Joseph, what were you like as a child?” I asked.  He looked at me with a blank stare and said, “I don’t know.”  I thought maybe it was a teenage boy thing and that he just wasn’t interested in the conversation...which was mostly correct. A few minutes later he looked at me and said…”No one ever told me.”  Those words hit me hard.  Earlier that day I was on the phone with my dad sharing a story about our girls and he reminded me, as he had many times before, to write all these memories down or they would be forgotten.  I looked at our 19 year-old Joseph and thought of the single photograph that he has from childhood and the countless milestones of his life…lost.  Another minute went by and he said, “The workers at the orphanage told me that I liked to play with a toy car.”  That was it…that is all he has.

Not long after that conversation, I got my camera and Shantelle got her notebook and we were determined to give each of the children at the orphanage, who we have grown to know and love, a window into their childhood.  We wanted to give them a reminder of how much they were loved…not just by us but more importantly by a God who formed their little bodies, who knows their every thought and who counts every hair on their head, every scraped knee, every tear and moment in which they thought they were alone.  They are loved by a Heavenly Father who cares and protects and loves them with a love stronger than any earthly parent could ever comprehend.  They aren’t lost.  They aren’t forgotten.

 Please read this portion of Psalms 139 from the eyes of an orphaned child…remembering that at some point we were all orphaned and our Heavenly Father reached down and saved us bringing us into HIS family “so that we might receive adoption as sons” (Galatians 4:5).  How much more meaningful these words have become…

 Psalms 139O LORD, you have searched me and known me! You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar. You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O LORD, you know it altogether. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it. Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there! If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me. If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night," even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you. For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them. How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them!  


(Below are a few of the children's pictures and portion of what was written to them, translated from Swahili.)


 
Godi.  You love to play soccer, to play with your doll that you named Mama Kennedy, and help others.  When the other children are sick you hold their hands and check on them often.  You give lots of hugs and have a big heart.  You run fast and play hard.  Everyone thinks you are handsome and you know it!  You love attention and love to be held...even though you are getting a little too big for that!  You make very funny jokes and love to laugh.
 
Joni.  You think that you are 7, 6 or 9 years old.  We think you are 7.  You love to play soccer and you are very good at it!  You like to swim and are not afraid of water…actually there is not much that scares you.  We call you mischievous because you have a lot of energy and are very stubborn.  You like to listen to music and to dance.

Deriki and Daudi.  It is hard to tell you guys apart, but we can when you smile.  Daudi, you are shy and kind and you like to go to church.  Deriki you like to run, show your strength, and eat candy and chips maya.  You guys are always together and you look out for one another.  Both of you think you are stronger than the other and you like to wrestle.
 Neema.  You are shy around new people but love attention.  You love to cuddle.  You have one of the greatest laughs in the whole world.  You are talking a lot these days.  Just because you are shy doesn’t mean you can't hold your own against the bigger kids. 


Wanamisi and Hamisi.  Usually with twins one is shy and the other is outgoing.  Not with you two!  You both have more energy and spunk than you know what to do with.  You never stop playing and running and talking.  Wanamisi, you have such a loud voice and you love to boss the other kids around.  You cry easily when you don't get your way or get the slightest injury.  Hamisi, you love when we watch you play and you love to show-off.  We have heard you say thousands of times, "look at me! look at me!"  You like to eat ugali and mchuzi and chips.  You also love to play soccer and run.

.
Kasimu.  You are one special boy!  Your leg does not slow you down one bit.  You work hard and never give up.  You can keep up with anything that the other children are doing.  You have such a kind and compassionate heart.  You are very thankful and very sweet.  One of my favorite memories of you is when Neema got sick and without being asked you ran to get a towel and clean her off.  After helping her you returned to clean the floor.  God has given you a special heart that serves others and brings so much joy to those around you. 

Joseph.  You came to the orphanage with a different name and with a twin sister.  Your sister, Rehema, passed away from malaria on January 23rd, 2013.  You missed her a lot.  Before she died you slept in the same crib together.  Rehema was gentle and calm and laughed often.  She rarely cried.  Shortly after Rehema passed away your name was changed from Rehemu to Joseph.  They call you Sharo at the orphanage because you are so handsome and so cool.  You just turned one!  You are serious most of the time.  You love to be held and taken outside.  You especially love Shantelle and cry when anyone takes you away from her.  You light up when you see her.  

First, I need to say that I should know by now not to speak of tomorrow with certainty, especially living in Africa.  Not that any of you were sitting on the edge of your seats, but I do feel compelled to address my broken promise last month of daily updates of our past year here. In my defense the two days following that empty promise I found myself in the village with no internet and upon arrival home I had a very sick little baby that needed to be taken to the hospital.  That ordeal lasted 4 days and when we finally got back home I was tired and felt too defeated to begin what I sought out to do. So...here's to trying it again after next year! ;)

On a completely different note I wanted to add something on here concerning questions that I have received quite frequently since moving here.  There are a lot of friends and family who, quite frankly, think we are crazy, unable to understand why we would bring our family here to Tanzania.  Those who do understand, have asked questions like:
"How do you do it?"
"How do you trust God with your safety...your children in a foreign place. I know that there are Bible verses that answer these questions... But you and Aaron are living it."  OR the one that makes me want to hide in shame..."You are such a good person."

The questions have come in different forms, but my answer is always similar and goes something like what I wrote to this friend...

"Every day is done by the grace of God. You have no idea how selfish my heart really is. Even here I struggle with wanting things, being selfish with my time, loving this world and myself more than our Lord. It is a DAILY battle and it is a DAILY surrender. A daily surrender to give all that I have to the Lord, body and mind and heart. It's also a daily abiding in Him and His Word to change and renew me. 

Also, practically being out of the States changes you so much. Being away from all the consumerism and businesses makes you hate the way you lived before and never want it again. This life here is harder, but in a weird way it's easier because here we aren't as likely to distract ourselves and busy ourselves away from Christ. 

The truth is...no matter where we are in the world, there is sin. It manifests itself in very different ways...but we all have selfishness and wickedness in our hearts. The ONLY lasting and complete joy and the only redemption from ourselves and our sin is JESUS.

Even after we accept Jesus as our Savior, being fully and forever redeemed, we fail daily and have such a natural bent toward worshiping ourselves and our idols and not God. It's who we are, from the first time sin entered the earth in the Garden of Eden sin became our worst enemy. 

So, I'm understanding this harsh truth more and more about myself (seems like you are too  ). The remedy is not beating yourself up or getting depressed about our fallen condition (even though I yearn for heaven where I won't have to battle my flesh and my sin-bent heart). Beating yourself up only continues the focus inward and on yourself. Repent daily and then lay it all at the cross where it has already been paid, and then run towards the Grace that our Lord has offered, knowing that HIS mercy is new every morning and HE is our faithful Father who will grant us the faith we need to live a life that honors HIM. 

I could go on and on but I would highly recommend the book "Jesus + Nothing = Everything". I read it right before we moved here and I literally think it might have saved me from giving up.

P.S. I know that boredom in life you speak of...I had it so much. It's b/c we were made for and redeemed for something more than ourselves. I miss my family more than I can stand sometimes, but a life laid down for Christ is truly the greatest joy anyone can have. It's a peace and a thrill to give our measly, short lives to share the gospel with people who have never heard."

No, I'm not here because I am a good person.  I am here because God uses even the weak people for HIS glory and HIS purpose.

2 Corinthians 12: 9-10...“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. ¹⁰ For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

{month one}

It’s hard to believe that it has been 1 year since we left our home in America to move to Tanzania.  What a crazy year it has been!  God has brought us through many fears, struggles, trials, frustrations, and given us incredible peace and joy that we never could have imagined.  Each day this week I'll share stories and photos from every month that we have spent here in Tanzania in hopes to show God’s glory and provision through all of our weakness and fear.

{month one} 

Every time I think back to our final moments in the states I get the same sick feeling.  It’s still so fresh in my mind…the fear, the unknown, the desire to escape.  I had never been so afraid.   Before boarding that plane I couldn’t take my eyes off of my three precious little girls that we were taking away from their family and into an unknown world. 

My mind goes to landing in Tanzania.  Exiting the plane, I exchanged glances with Shan and Aaron.  None of us needed to say a word.  I think we all knew what we were thinking…"What have we done!?!?!”  It was raining, it was hot, and the roof in the airport was leaking; all of which allowed for both sweat and rain…and maybe a tear or two to drip down our faces. 

Mitch and Elliot

We stayed with our lovely friends (2 of the 5 people that we knew in this country) Two days later they sent us off to our knew home in Morogoro. Looking back, we were not nearly as afraid as we should have been.  Three hours later we were dropped off at a home that we were seeing for the first time.  We unloaded our luggage, the bus drove off, and then it sunk it…we were all alone.  We knew no one in this town.  We knew no Swahili.  We had no dinner and three hungry little girls waiting to see what mommy and daddy were going to do.  Aaron prayed.  I panicked.  To be exact I had a pity party and a spout of anger as I realized that one of the most important things that I could have packed was sitting on my parents couch-our Swahili dictionary.  So there we were, no ability to communicate, no internet, no friends, no food, no vehicle, only phones with no numbers to call.  Yet somehow we lived.  I look back on those first moments of completely blind faith and cherish the memory of how our Lord took care of His children.

bus ride to Morogoro

First view of our new home

jet lag and on our way to our new home

Aaron and Elliot...and all our luggage 

{journal}

-day 3 in Morogoro-

“…with man it is impossible, but not with God, for all things are possible with God.” 

“ We are babies. Literally, full grown adults, thrust backwards into the days when we couldn’t speak, couldn’t adequately communicate our needs, into a world where everything is new and hard to understand; and like a baby, I want to throw my head back for one of those good screaming cries for help.

That’s how I feel in a bad moment.   Literally, a moment later can turn into such awe of this incredible place that we now call home, the friendly smiles, the gorgeous Uluguru mountain range, the noises, the music, the dirt and the smells, the newness of every moment.  All making me keenly aware that we are indeed strangers in this world.

The term “mixed emotions” doesn’t begin to describe our days.  Tears flow as we miss our family, joys rise when we read Scripture and are rejuvenated and reminded of the mighty GOD we serve.  Fear almost cripple us as we face the unknown, but faith increases as we learn to rely on HIS strength and not our own.  Varying emotions, highs and lows, the good and bad and painful all point us to our Creator, who is our help in the time of need.  He is our Solid Rock, our Help, our Fortress, our Sovereign Creator, Our Friend, Our Father, our Constant and Unchanging, our Rescuer.  Scripture could not become any more alive right now when it’s all we have to cling to for hope and promise of things to come."

{other memories from month one}

Saying goodbye to our family.  The hardest day of my life.   It was unimaginably painful pulling away from my family just a few minutes after this picture was taken.  The strength of our Lord and having an eternal perspective on this momentary life was the only thing that gave us the strength to leave the most wonderful family in the world.

Saying goodbye, aunt Whitney and Elliot.

Waiting for Mamaw and Papaw to come visit us in TZ for the first time!  This was an incredible day.  It allowed the girls to understand that although we were far away, our family could get to us on an airplane.  It was a wonderful trip showing my parents around.  Although we had only been in country for a couple weeks, so we mainly learned things side by side.  They were such a huge help and an incredible blessing in that first month. 

This is Barack.  We still use him for a taxi from time to time just to get to talk with him.  We took his taxi all over Morogoro our first month because we didn't have a vehicle yet.  Barack also helped us get our drivers license, which was Aaron's first experience walking around town hand in hand...with another man.  This was Aaron's first of MANY hand holdings this year, which here is a symbol of friendship (only) between men.

Our Sunday at church.  This is Neema, Alaina, and Claire.  They have all grown so much since then.  The children at our church welcomed our girls so warmly that first Sunday.  They took hold of their hands and haven't really let go since.  We have come to love these children so much and feel so blessed by the love and patience they shown our girls being new and not understanding Swahili.