So the rain pours sweet and cold. Washes away the dusty road grime. Cleans us. Fresh, like His love. I’m driving home after a long, sweaty day. I hold the tears back. 7 hours at the hospital. No food. No water. Only to find out another one. Another one has HIV. And she’s pregnant. Alone in this world. And I think of Mama Heidi’s words, “What does love look like?” So we stay and wait in the long lines. We hold hands through the ugly words. We pray. And we help her get medicine to keep this monster at bay.
The afterglow. The touch of Jesus still radiant on my skin. And a hand. A hand upon my heart sealing it for Him. This is the essence of life. What I live for. But oh how I’d forgotten, forgotten how good it can be. In the aftermath of all doing, there is emptiness. In the afterglow of his Presence there is only the sound of laughing and a stillness which allows me to breathe. I love missions. I love ministries. I’ve been to Iris, I’ve been to Bethel, I’ve
It is raining here in Uganda. I did not know how much I missed that fresh summer storm smell dripping from the banana leaves, bringing with it the promise of new life. I did not know that is, until I smelled it again, or smelled the chapatti Harriet was making in the kitchen. And I realized how much I belong to this place and how until I saw Lake Victoria’s mist rising up from the African dust, that the joy of all I am and all I long to be, rose up in me. I actually felt something shift in
I only have a week left in Mozambique before I go back to Uganda and I am still trying to process through if I’ve changed, if so how much, what God is doing in me, what God has taught me and what impact that has on the rest of my life…so you know, small things. I was all prepared to write this blog about the amazing things I saw happen the last few days I was in the bush again camping in the dirt and ministering to a small village outside Pemba. I still want to write that blog. Because
I woke up with that verse in my heart “Mourning lasts for the night, but joy, joy comes in the morning.” And I truly felt it in my bones. And then the boy died. Hit and killed by a speeding truck. They say it happens. They say it is normal. Saw his little crumpled body strewn on the pavement and the blood congealed thick and red, redder, than I’ve ever seen, redder than my blood or an African sunset. They took the pulse even though they said his brains were out, spilled out like a piece of split fruit. Hit
“For the Lord has chosen ZION for he has desired it for his dwelling. This is my resting place for ever, here I will sit enthroned for I have desired it.” Ps 132:13 I feel like I’m on a roll-a-coaster and I’d like to scream for someone to let me off but it just keeps going—-ups, downs, and twisting sideways. They talk here about people having break-downs—just going off the reservation. Some days I can see why. It’s intense here at IRIS. We’ve got witchdoctors spouting off their jabba jabba curses on us, and half the base falling sick with
So I just got back from the BUSH BUSH, and by that I mean the kind of place where kids run up to you and then run away once they realize you are a WHITIE (“Acuna”—which is akin to Mzungu here) and they think you are going to eat them for lunch or something. But man, I think I would have just stayed out there forever if they had let me. The stars were enough to make me want to live out there in a cave somewhere. We drove about 6 hours on a bumpy bus ride out to an
(me with Medina after she came back to visit…feeling much better:) “I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten…You will have plenty to eat, until you are full and you will praise the name of the Lord.” Joel 2:25-26 Another exciting day in Pemba. Was on the back of a truck heading into town and we got rear ended, so just another day in the life. 😉 No one was hurt though. I feel like its pretty normal practice here. The other day I got to ride on a motorcycle, (ok moped) reminded me so much of
“Blessed are those who hunger, for they shall be filled.” Mt 5:6 After miraculously recovering from some sort of unknown illness (pretty typical here) I was beginning to really enter into the presence of God again. My prayer the last few days has truly been, Lord make me hungry, hungry for your presence, and for love for these Mozambican people, hungry for the secrets of your Kingdom here on earth. I want to be so hungry that God sees and must come and fill me. Ever heard that saying be careful what you pray for? I want to tell a
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Mt 5:4 Heidi Baker spoke this morning on this verse and I felt as though she was speaking directly to me, directly to my heart. The first five days I was here, it was all God, all joy, all fullness, all anointing, all presence. Just being filled up with so much goodness and joy and teaching. And now….emptiness. What do we do when God takes us through a season of emptying us, of not constantly speaking to us? God is breaking our hearts so that He can heal them, so
Writer. Missionary Coach. Recovering perfectionist. I want you to know that you are loved and already good enough. I am about helping people move from brokenness into wholeness. Together, we'll make a more beautiful world.
Subscribe to Get your Free eBook: A Self-Care Plan for Global Workers