He’s still her comfort. Her preferred space. Once every couple of months we find her here.
It’s a sacrificial complement (kid has some flying elbows!) to be someone’s safety from scary dreams.
Sweet Hannah-girl.
Wordless Wednesday: Sew Fun
An eyeglass case
For Daddy. =)
Oh Brothers Let’s Go Down
You may have had a chance to see Matt’s post about the recent baptisms in Maxixe, but I wanted to take a minute to share the “behind the scenes”.
Here are some video clips of the reality, joyfully embraced, of the whole church walking over 2 miles roundtrip to and from the baptismal service.
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Even little Eden put forth such a joyfully willing effort to trod along in the sand.
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Once there everyone settled in a minute as we got organized and the kids naturally enjoyed each other’s company. And as I shared on baptism day, our baptismal had ten cattle drinking, two herdsmen bathing, and one woman beating her freshly-washed laundry in a beached log. Oh wonderful Africa, how we love thee. 😂
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Before baptism, each candidate shares their personal testimony (as was done by this youth in Chopi and was translated for Matt into Portuguese). One day we may not need a translator, but for today it was really cool to hear both tongues share of God’s work in each candidate’s life.
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After shared testimonies, the church is open to question the candidates. It was an open floor for any of the candidates to be individually addressed and asked questions clarifying their testimony, theology, etc. Some such questions were asking for an explanation of what is the gospel and what are their plans and thoughts about the Christian walk after baptism. I love how the Chopi group wanted to be sure their candidates were rock-solid and fully understanding of the symbolism of baptism (and not the saving powers) and the new Christian’s responsibility to the Body of Christ.
Then the candidates went away while the Body of believers decided if they were ready for baptism. It was very interesting and in no way a formality. They were really deciding and talking among themselves about the salvation stories and the candidates’ answers to their questions. And then, because the Chopi know how to have a good time, they called the candidates over and notified them that none of them are qualified and it’s time to walk back to the shade tree. Then they immediately told them that of course they were joking and that they’d be thrilled to have them join the Body of Christ there in Chopiland. Haha! These people are flat out fun.
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Into the waters they showed the story of their lives before salvation and out of the water they came as new creations in Christ.
And then we all walked back, some of us dripping more than others. Some of the little ones, like Eden, had gotten tired from the first walk and found a refuge on the back of willing siblings and friends. That’s what community looks like. And it’s beautiful.
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Back to the shade tree for a celebration service and the first Lord supper for the new believers among the Body.
Farewell and everyone departed afterward, promising to see each other again for Tuesday’s Bible Study under the shade tree. I may or may not have had to wake up a small one who knocked out cold during the service. 😉
God has been reminding me lately how we have come to really live among those here. It’s sweet little “see you on Tuesday” normalcy that casually rolls off a Chopi sister’s tongue as she says goodbye on Sunday. It’s the youth that always sits close to share my Bible with me that I can now joke around with because we carry history. It’s understanding some of the playfulness of the people because they’re comfortable enough with us to let guards down. I don’t deserve such an honor to walk alongside of these beloved people. It’s not easy (as life never is), but it is indeed such an honor and a joy.
Welcome to the Body of Christ in Chopiland.
All are welcome.
Come and hear the Good News.
The Settle
Aaaand we’re back. Settling in is still an ongoing process of learning new norms as I am still under some restrictions during this healing process.
The girls have been stepping up and helping between their normal frolicking episodes in the backyard.
(Look at their little hearts carrying in the laundry for me. ❤️)
From jumping back into normal backyard shenanigans
(Here the girls are reenacting a Mozambican transport, chapa).
To neighborhood walks,
life is settling back in to the good old norms.
Oh how it IS well with my soul.
Soli Deo Gloria.
All glory be to God alone!
Family Identity
It came to us right before bed one night in Johannesburg. I had gotten out of the hospital by the grace of God and finally felt like a human being again. We had moved beyond the survival phase; Matt’s day dictated by hospital visiting hours and mine dictated by pain management and nursing schedule. And now we stood at the doorframe of recovery. Recovery from surgeries, recovery from anxiety and recovery from apartness (hey, I can make up words, this is my blog 😉).
And we lay there processing, for processing for parents often happens at night when small ears are not around. In that land of processing I wandered a bit, smelling the flowers, until I realized what I missed the most: family identity.
See, every transitional reality we have walked through as a family was aided by finding a new sense of us. Each added family member helped to redefine how we do family. Each big change. Each trip. Each adventure. Everywhere we find ourselves laying our heads at night, that time period, grows us into a new layer of family identity.
And it was then and there that we realized that that was true for everywhere except Joburg. We had had three weeks of unavoidable division: me at the hospital, Matt being Superdad and trying to still stay fully aware and engaged with what was going on with me, and the girls bouncing from wonderfully willing person to person, but still finding an identity of just the four of them – Rachael being, many times, the voice of reason and taking on the role of “mom” for her sisters. We had been, for all intensive purposes: scattered.
For healing to happen, we realized that we needed to regroup and find our family identity once again right where we were, in Joburg. So it began with a 1,000 piece puzzle…
Everyone’s hands worked on the puzzle. It helped us not only pass time healing, but also just have a united goal again.
We were determined to finish it. Matt and I worked on sections when the girls were sleeping. Waiting times were filled with sorting pieces. Eden even got pretty good at finding edge pieces. Hannah sorted colors. Abi and Rachael helped Eden collect zebra pieces. And we slowly chipped away at it, even when it was really frustrating, until the final piece was laid. I loved how we all cheered at it’s completion. In hours of focus and teamwork we found a sense of family identity in Joburg.
See, friends? We live in a generally quiet town. With generally quiet evenings filled with time. Time when few are out, risking malaria, among the mosquitos. Time when people return home at dusk and shut down for the nights. Seven hours from fluent English and teammates is where we live. And that’s in no way a complaint, just a reality. And then we came to the big city; busy, loud, full of activity, and everything costs something and even the most wonderful friends that we wanted to see. But it wasn’t until we sat down to that puzzle that we realized how much we just needed a slice of us again. Quiet. Uneventful. A united task. Until completion.
And after the completion comes the very best part: the destruction.
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Family identity is critical. Everyone has a part. Everyone is valued. Everyone is needed.
Together we are better.
What Really Matters.
She was excited for the interval, hungry for the next chapter. It didn’t matter that she was sitting in the middle of a straw mat in the heart of Africa with Portuguese and local dialects all around her. She had patiently waited, greeting everyone and sharing in hugs and hand shakes. She had made sure everyone was settled and happy with various picture books and white computer papers for origami.
And so she happily smiled, flipping to her previous page and soaking into her book when in an instance it was snatched from her hands. She turned to me and laughed at the irony. A young girl sitting beside her motioned quietly for her to wait as the girl looked at the book’s pictures sporadically included in the English chapter book. My little girl just waited, See, she knew in this kid cultural moment it wasn’t rude. She saw the young friend’s bubbling over excitement. Books are so scarce here that they’re super exciting. And besides, this is just how you love people here- you share when it’s not always convenient.
The grace my little girl showed was such an encouragement to me. It has been a slow whispering, an awakening to the true value. Books and things are always fun, but the hearts of those around us make us laugh in the ironic moments and share willingly with those around us; even when they don’t read English, were a little too excited to contain themselves, and when the irony of the situation is just too fun to not share with locked eyes and a chuckle. Kids here see with their hands. And they almost always hand it back momentarily. It’s just a game of patience while everyone gets a look before you get it back. Community is strong here. And how beautiful to see my little lady play her role so sweetly.
And sure enough, with patience and the passing of 30 seconds, my beloved little girl was back to her thirst-quenching exploration of the world of yet another novel character.
People will always matter more than things.
And irony is totally worth laughing at
there on a straw mat in the heart Africa.