05-01-09
poverty.
one of my favorite things about traveling is the people i get to meet and, in turn, the stories i get to tell.
some stories are funny, some are just neat, and most have an ending i can wrap up for you in a package with a nice bow.
unfortunately, some stories don’t seem to have a happy ending. they’re hard to write about, to talk about, to even think about.
this is why missionaries have to “debrief” (to use the southern baptist terminology). this is why, when people ask me how [insert country here] was, all i can say is “amazing” or something of the sort, and hope my smile is genuine enough to portray my gratefulness for getting to go and be part of something so…well, amazing. this is why i still haven’t written all that much about Africa – i’ll be processing it for the rest of my life.
when we pulled up to the project site on our first day of merry everyday gift giving, the children were in line to receive their Christmas presents from CHI. as i got out of the taxi, i realized that their presents were a large vat of cooking oil and a large package of noodles. Such a contrast to the clothes, toys, books, crayons, bikes, etc. that we give and receive here, huh? Most of these families eat because their child is sponsored by Children’s Hope International’s Greatest Need Project. Through donations they are able to provide shelter, medical care, and other critical resources to Ethiopia’s orphaned and at-risk children.
the woman pictured above is the mother of two grown women and the grandmother of two beautiful children. They live in a “house” that is essentially…well, a shack. It is no bigger than my current bedroom, but 5 people reside there. Their “kitchen” is a small fire pit just outside their “door.” The grandfather is long gone, and the father died of AIDS – though, thankfully, neither the children nor their mother contracted the disease.
I have seen the face of poverty, and it is suprisingly beautiful.
I’ve been following the journey of the Compassion bloggers in India, and have struggled to keep my heart hardened to their stories. As much as I want to read them, I don’t want to be moved. I don’t want to be changed. I like my life just like it is thankyouverymuch. And I’m quitting my job soon and moving without the guarantee of another job. And I’m going back to school and will again be a poor college student. And I don’t have an extra $30 a month. And I already sponsor a child through World Vision – that has got to be enough! And…and…and.
No. it’s not enough. I read this story this morning and God spoke loud and clear (and of course I cried on the bus, which is something i seem to do a lot). Admittedly, the thought of helping just one child overwhelms me, because there are so many who need help. But God spoke: One at a time. One day. One child. I think i can handle that.
Confession: Last night I spent $15 on a concert and then $16 on a cab home, totaling $31. For that small amount of money i could have released a child from poverty. Reread that sentence…if i stayed home ONE night, i could have provided some basic needs for a child living in conditions no human should ever have to endure.
So where does that leave me? I’m going to sponsor a child in India. I’m going to write her (a girl, because I already sponsor a boy) letters and tell her she is loved. I’m going to pray for her. I’m going to get to watch her grow up. I am going store up treasures elsewhere – and by ‘elsewhere’ i don’t even mean Heaven, i mean India.
Join me.
01-27-09
new.
i’ve been back in the States for 2 weeks and i feel like maybe i can start to put my time in Ethiopia into words. maybe.
The only other country (besides the US) i can compare ET to is China…and the similarities begin and end at the super long plane rides and the overpowering smell of pollution. Even the plane rides were different – the trip to China was quiet for the most part. People didn’t really talk to each other unless they were traveling together. On the way to ET, everyone walked the aisles, hung out with each other like they were family, and children were screaming (The. Whole. Way. There.) Imagine chaos and you’ve got the flight to and from Ethiopia. Yes, it annoyed me, and no I couldn’t sleep, but I couldn’t help but notice and appreciate the difference in cultures.
The first day we were in country we spent time at the House of Hope. The HOH is kind of like a halfway house for children who have been matched with a family. They leave their orphanages and stay there until their family (from another country) comes to pick them up. The anticipation, at least amongst the older kids, is palpable. They have been chosen! They are going to be adopted into a new family and get a new name and a new life and a new home!
While we were playing with these SUPER CUTE kids all i could think about was their impending adoptions and how like God it is to take a life that was headed in one direction and make it new. The Bible talks about adoption in several places but i’m not sure i understood it until that day in Africa. Not only was I chosen (Eph 1:11-12) but I was (and am) transformed! I got a new life and a new (eternal) home.
The part that struck me the most about adoption was that the children are given a new name. It’s such a spiritual concept. I LOVE this about God! In Isaiah 62, Isaiah prophesies that, although Jerusalem was spiritually corrupt, one day they would be restored to glory. The people of Jerusalem were familiar with feelings of desolation and abandonment, but God promised that the days of war and destruction would pass and they will know how much He delights in them. He even promised to change their name (vs. 2)to reflect their transformation.
All our lives we are labeled. As children we are called names on the playground and as we get older we start to believe the lies that we are told. We believe we are too much or not enough, that we are too fat, too skinny, too [fill in the blank], that we are annoying, that we’re ugly, that we just can’t live up to expectations. But we have to trust that God absolutely did not intend for us to live our lives as if these labels belong to us, to claim them as if they’re our own.
Instead, He has changed my name! I am no longer called insecure, anxious, fearful, ashamed, or worthless, but instead a crown of splendor, a royal diadem, delightful, worth rejoicing over!
The children at House of Hope eagerly wait for their adoptive parents. Because they were chosen, they believe that rescue is coming. They will be given a new name. And with this new name comes the faith that what once was ashes will become beautiful.
01-11-09
home sweet home
Well, I’m back from possibly the best trip I’ve ever taken…if you know me at all you know that God has allowed me to travel quite extensively (by some standards) over the past few years and I can’t honestly say I’ve enjoyed a place as much as I enjoyed Ethiopia.
I’m still in TN, but as soon as I get back to New York you can rest assured there will be stories and pictures to come. For now, head over to gloryology.com for ellie’s first blog post-africa!