No turning back, no turning back.

There have been tears as I pack to go back to Africa but not to the boys I love. I got a message from one of the boys this week saying that he and the other boys love and miss me “until, until forever.” Oh my heart.

I am heading back in 2 weeks. Back to Africa. But not back to my desert home. It is strange packing and preparing to go “back” when really I am going somewhere brand new. It is strange preparing to return to Africa, but not to the Africa I know and not to the Africans that I love. And still not knowing if I will ever be able to see their faces again on this earth. But there is still work to be done. And while I am probably contemplating on this too much and some could argue being a little over-emotional about the whole thing, I am thankful I get to go back to Africa at all. Two years was not enough and I am thrilled that I still am able to be in Africa. It is a gift.

As I prepare to leave again I realized that I am feeling some of the same things now that I was feeling 2.5 years ago before I left for Africa the first time. I’m looking into the future of being somewhere new and feeling skill-less and worthless to any group that might just be nice enough to allow me to join them. I have these moments of self-doubt where I’m like “What am I doing?! Who do I think I am?! No one over there needs me! I’m just going to be more of a burden than a blessing! I’m awkward and selfish and require too much time to myself! I am weak and unskilled. Fragile and frail. Stubborn and grumpy and emotional. Oh, Lord, could you use even me?"

The coming weeks and months are going to be difficult, as all new seasons are. It is tiring to find people to connect with in and trying to fit into the fabric of new places. I am dreading the aloneness that inevitably accompanies leaving people that you love. I’m intimidated all over again. I think what I am afraid of is failing. If I had any “success” at all in my desert home it feels like it was a fluke. Like if anything I did amounted to anything at all then I just got lucky. What if my luck runs out this time around? I’m scared of being somewhere new and them being like, “What is this girl doing here? Does she know anything at all?” I’m scared of flopping, of doing nothing that matters, of being a waste of time and resources. And sometimes I get scared that I’m getting it all wrong! That I’m not following God the right way when I think I am. The Bible talks about those people—the ones who cry “Lord, Lord” but don’t actually commune with God. 

I have these ping-ponging worries and doubts about myself in my head and yet I am entirely confident of the Lord’s hand in where I go next and his provision in what lies ahead. I am a mix of contradictions and emotions. I feel encouraged and discouraged. Confident and doubtful. Nervous and at peace. There are more of God’s children I know need love, but I want to stay here with people I love too. I want to help love and take care of kids that need it, but I don’t want to fall in love and then say good-bye and have my heart broken all over again. I don’t want to enter people’s lives just to leave them again.

It would be easier perhaps if in this life we knew that the tearings of our hearts meant something. That in certain hard actions we knew for sure that Gods kingdom would grow as a result. That in the sacrifices and sufferings that we are helping usher in his Kingdom. God promised to glorify himself in us if we submit ourselves to him. He even promises to work in our weaknesses—that in those places he will shine all the greater! Well, Lord, lots of places for that in me!

So while I love my family and friends here dearly and don’t want to be separated from them; I know that I will see them again in Glory. I know that we will spend an eternity together worshipping and praising God. And there is a world of people out there who don’t know the Good News. Who won’t be able to share in the glory unless they hear it. So I have to go. I don’t know how many good-byes the heart can take and I feel some days as though I am nearing my limit. But I trust in who God says He is. And I’m moving forward because I feel I must. I never want to shrink back from hard things. God has been enough for me so far and I know he will continue to be in new places with new people.

No turning back, no turning back.

“Success isn’t what you’ve done compared to others. Success is what you’ve done compared to what you were made to do.” Lecrae

“My dear children, let’s not just talk about love, let’s practice real love. This is the only way we’ll know we’re living truly, living in Gods reality. It’s also the way to shut down debilitating self-criticism, even where there is something to it. For God is greater than our worried hearts and knows us better than we do ourselves.” 1 John 3:18-20 Msg

“It is difficult to follow Jesus in a calling that others are better qualified to accomplish or that requires me to sacrifice something that Jesus doesn’t seem to be requiring my friends to sacrifice…These are painful deaths to die. But they enrich the soil in which good things grow.” Scott Bessenecker

“Each one of these people of faith died not yet having in hand what was promised, but still believing. How did they do it? they saw it way off in the distance, waved their greeting, and accepted the fact that they were transients in this world. People who live this way make it plain that they are looking for their true home. If they were homesick for the old country, they could have gone back anytime they wanted. But they were after a far better country than that—heaven country.” Hebrews 11:13-16a Msg

Thoughts on Things

It's no secret the gross consumerism that exists in America. In my last post I talked about reverse culture shock. Trying to line up my life in the US with it's abundance of stuff and opportunities and the utter lack of those things in my life in Africa is hard. It's hard to find some sort of internal agreement between those two extremes. There is a constant internal friction between enjoying the good gifts from the Lord and also being aware of those in the world that go without.

In general I've struggled with buying things since I've been back. I've settled into a house and needed to buy things for it. Most of that has been done at Goodwill. But one day at Marshall's I found a rug (an, apparently, notoriously not-cheap item) on clearance. And for it a rug it was darn cheap. I decided to buy it, telling myself I could always return it. For 3.5 weeks I left it in the back of the car, hemming and hawing over whether or not I should keep it. Am I being wasteful? A bad steward of money? Sometimes I literally feel sick over spending money. So I'm like, is justified because I'm catching up after not really buying stuff while I lived in Africa? Am I being wise with money? It's ok to enjoy it a little bit...but when does it become excessive? Where is that line? Am I being in love with the world?

I don't want my life to consist of the abundance of my possessions (Luke 12:15) I want my worth to be in Christ and relationships with others. I don't think that possessions are inherently evil...but they can be. I can give them power over me.

I feel like what I spend my money on is a reflection of who I am. What does my spending say about me? Do I like what it says? I want my money, firstly, to help the people God has commanded me to help. I want to use it to feed hungry people and clothe orphans and help people who are struggling. I want to support local farmers. People who are responsible and respectful of the environment. Same for clothes and other things. I want my money to support products and companies that pay fair wages, don't employ children, care about the environment and don't just care about the bottom line. There aren't many of these companies, at least not many that are affordable on my budget, which is why I buy most of my stuff second-hand. It keeps things out of landfills and usually the profits give back to the community. I can get on board with that.

But I still own more than I need. The things I own are still in excess. I love the idea of minimalism...but a minimalist I am not. I still have my choice of several different foods for breakfast in the morning off of any number of plates to sit and eat on comfortable furniture in a temperate house, while reading any of the hundreds of books at my disposal. I'll spend too long getting dressed because I have so many choices of what to wear. Which accessories? Which of my many pairs of shoes look best? And even though I probably own less stuff than the average American 26 year old I absolutely have abundantly more than I need. I am thankful for my rich blessings...and I am also guilty.

I look at the boys I worked with in North Africa. How is it possible I can enjoy so many things that they can't? How is it possible that I can enjoy so much beauty and goodness here and enjoy it so freely when people I love on the other side of the world are suffering? How is it possible that I can enjoy these things and they can't? Why do I get the blessed gift of being born in a family that loves me in a free country bursting at the seams with opportunity? How can there be such a vast difference in your life just because of where you were born and the circumstances you were born under? Why are some people born in times of war and others in times of peace? I have a responsibility to use what I have been given to make other peoples lives better. And while I get distracted by the glitter and false promises this world has to offer sometimes, I hope that as I get older I can continue to learn what it means to keep myself "unstained from the world." (James 1:27)

"People who are free are also free to look away and their willingness to do so never fails to astound me." Malika Oufkir

Reverse Culture Shock

I didn't even know that was a thing until I lived overseas. Reverse culture shock is basically when you've been living in a second culture for awhile, and then return to your home culture and deal with the shock of everything in your home culture feeling foreign.

It's a funny thing. I mean, I was a mess when I returned home to the States. I had a broken heart from being kicked out of my home and saying way, way too many good-byes. I was still dealing with the trauma of that intense experience. Also it was winter. Which was like adding insult to injury. Dealing with reverse culture shock on top of everything else was an experience I found (and continue find to be) amusing and frustrating.

Some things were a delight. Infrastructure! People following traffic laws! Chocolate chips whenever I want! It was amazing how easy and simple it could be just to go to one store and get all the things you needed. And then not having to schlep all the stuff you bought on a bus! Glory be!

But there were certain things were just way too much for me to handle. I don't think I went into a grocery store alone for my first two months back. I would tag along with my sister in her weekly run and really I needed her moral support for the whole endeavor. I felt overwhelmed. So much food! So many choices! I couldn't even find where stuff was anymore. I'd just stand looking at herbal teas in a daze because I didn't even know where to begin. I would put random stuff in my basket and my sis would be like "What? You don't even eat those." And I'd be like "Oh, yeah." and put them back.

I still can't find stuff in big stores and I'm getting better about not being in a daze in supermarkets, but I'm still overwhelmed by just the absolute volume of things that are available to buy. I still struggle with making choices about mundane things. There are so many options for every little thing. My family and friends have been supremely patient with me as I can't decide on restaurants or movies or snack foods, or even times to meet and get together, and make them decide.

After living in an Arab country for 2 years, I'm still finding it hard to adjust back to interacting with males in a normal, American way. I was having dinner a couple of weeks ago with the parents of a very good friend of mine. They're folks I've known for several years who are really sweet and whom I respect a great deal. We were chatting away and had a nice conversation. But I realized later that I was looking almost exclusively at her mom and rarely would look over or make eye contact with her dad.

In my North African home I had to learn to be a jerk to men on the street and rude sometimes to male acquaintances. If I was friendly in the normal American sense, I would have been perceived as a hussy. I would have been asking for it. I had to become suspicious and weary of any man I didn't know approaching me or saying anything to me. So now I'm trying to relearn how to be friendly and not cold to guys I don't know. Here it's ok if a guy I don't know starts talking to me. I need to remember that!

Also, I am a much braver pedestrian than I ever was before. In Africa if you want to cross the street sometimes you just have to go for it, or you'll never make it across. Sometimes you've go to cross one lane at a time and stand in the middle of the road until you can cross the next lane. It's not uncommon for people to see you waiting and slow down and wave you across. And it's also usually perfectly fine for you to cross and assume the driver will slow down if you look up or wave your hand or acknowledge him somehow. No problem. I've noticed since being back in the States I'll cross the street and be like "I've got time" then realize I was pushing it a little.

I still hide my computer sometimes when I leave the house. I still start to ration out chocolate or other foods that I can't get overseas. I freeze bread and other baked goods as soon as they cool. (In my desert home they would go stale almost immediately). I am still surprised when things don't thaw out completely just by sitting them on the counter for a little while. It feels weird wearing any shoes other than sandals. And not always having a scarf on. And baring my legs at all still feels slightly risqué. Going out for a run whenever I want still feels liberating. So does living alone and going barefoot not always sticking out in a crowd. It's nice to feel anonymous again.

I think it's been good and important for me to have this time at home and to not only reconnect with people, but also reconnect with parts of myself that I had to die to while living over-seas. Certain freedoms and things that bring me life and joy. It's nice to know those parts of me still exist even if I have to cover them up for a season.

Getting Back on the Horse

Last week the door for me to return to my desert home was decidedly closed for the time being. So while I remain hopeful that someday that door will reopen, I am gearing up to continue working with kids in Africa. There is still work to be done.

I’ve met with and talked with a lot of people these last few months about my first 2 years overseas. Even from professionals and people who have been in this line of work for a really long time have all said that I had a really tough time of things. More set-backs than most people experience. They say it is a powerful sense of call that is the biggest factor in workers being able to remain resilient in the face of difficulties and traumas working overseas. I didn’t choose to minister and work overseas because I thought it would be fun and exciting (though it is!) but because I have to help the hurts I have seen.

Recently I go the opportunity to see a number of my friends from my home in the sand. It was somehow very encouraging to catch up with those friends. To know I am not alone in struggling in dealing with what we’ve been through and re-adjusting to the States and the difficulty in making decisions. Laughing with people going through the same kind of crazy I am was refreshing. A few of us were talking and sharing how we were still feeling broken in our losses and the darkness going on in the home we all left un-willingly. And that this life is hard on the heart. But a friend of mine smiled and said, “But we wouldn’t want it any other way.” We all smiled, nodded, and agreed. It is hard and exciting and confusing and exhilarating living in faith like this. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.

There are many praise songs that have been speaking to my heart lately. The words of Chris Tomlin in “Follow You” have been rolling around in my head the last few days as I prepare to start over somewhere new:

“Where you go, I’ll go

Where you stay, I’ll stay

When you move, I’ll move

I will follow you”

In that same song he also sings,
“If this life I lose, I will follow you”

Of course going to live in more dangerous places has made me ponder my life. And if I will lose this very life, I will still follow to those places. But when I sing those words is it’s also an offering of ways of life, too.

If this comfortable life,

If this safe life,
If this easy life,
If this life with community and support and loved ones,
If this self-pleasing life,
If this chocolate-eating, book-buying, savings-building, art-making, cute clothes-wearing life I lose…

I’ll follow you.

I still have a lot of dreams. There are a lot of things I’d still like to do and experience. If I have to sacrifice those dreams, I’ll follow him. Because I believe he will fulfill me. I believe in his promises. And I believe that loving kids and helping the poor and reaching the unreached are more important that my desires, dreams, ideals, and ambitions.

Was reading an old book recently called “Daddy Long Legs” by Jean Webster. There was one part that made me smile a little, “Although my feelings are still hurt, for it is very humiliating to be picked up and moved about my an arbitrary, peremptory, unreasonable, invisible Providence, still, when a man has been as kind and generous and thoughtful as you have heretofore been towards me, I suppose he has a right to be an arbitrary, peremptory, unreasonable, invisible, Providence if he so chooses, and so—I’ll forgive you and be cheerful again.”

It just made me smile because aside from being “very humiliating” and the notion of forgiving the invisible Providence, it reminds me a little of some of my recent chats with God, often something along the lines of “Um, so it kind of sucks that I fell in love with all those people in N. Africa and was forced to leave and probably can’t go back and I don’t really understand. So even though my heart is still sad about leaving I love and trust you and know whatever you have planned for me is good.”

Encouraged in my heart that still want to be in Africa. That following Christ does not mean avoiding danger. Not looking out for my safety and security first--even in the sense of emotional safety and security. Because I would absolutely choose to stay near my loved ones if I counted that the highest priority in my life. So as I prepare to go out again I trust these things to the Lord’s hands, knowing he’ll supply my needs.

Continuing to lift up those I love who remain in my desert home. I don't get a whole lot of reports on what is going on there. But I've heard enough to know that things are getting worse and life is difficult. I am scared for the people there and comforted to know that God cares for those his children more than I do.

Stateside

I have been stateside for a good little while now. I've been keeping myself busy working on a online course to get certified to teach English (will likely be useful in getting a visa), travelling, connecting with churches and supporters, some training, doctors appointments and check-ups, and some administrative work for the centers. Also, my Gramms passed away about a week after I got back. I'm under strict orders from my leadership to take time to rest as I am coming off of an "unusually difficult" first term that ended somewhat traumatically. I am also getting a bit of counselling, as per their direction, just to make sure I've properly walked through and dealt with the traumas of my first term and am good to go for a return to Africa in June.

Speaking of a return, still working out plans for all of that. It's impossible to make any concrete plans at this point. Things are still worsening in the country where I was and are ever-changing. I am planning/hoping/praying for a return to there. That is, however, somewhat unlikely, but I'm going to try! There is work there yet to do...And there is a big part of my heart I left there in the form of 40ish sweet, ornery boys. If not there, somewhere else in the Arabic-speaking world. Talking with my leadership now about other opportunities and back-up type plans.

It's hard being back, if I'm being perfectly honest. It's good to see everyone and to have chocolate available anytime I so desire, but it's difficult not knowing what's going on with those that I left behind. I get reports from time to time, bad news mostly, and it's difficult trying to adjust to life back here and being innundated with things to buy and do, while I know I have brothers and sisters overseas who are being persecuted. So while I eagerly await my return to Africa, I am trying to savor my time here, as I know that I need rest and healing mentally, physically, and spiritually after the past 2 years, and esspecially in order to be able to go back for more! :)

So thanks for walking with me during this time, and thank's especially for your prayers. If I haven't connected with you yet I look forward to doing it soon!

Last Days Rewind

My last 2 weeks in the land of sand I went to the centers almost every day and spent as much time as I could with my community there. It was a hard, beautiful time, and I am so grateful for each moment I was able to spend with the people I love there.  We played games, watched tv, and drew. I had some really great conversations with the boys. About faith, trust, and important things in life--the doors opened for me to say the things I wanted them to know.

Getting to spend several hours with them every day for several days in a row was an absolute joy.  Well...while it was indeed a joy, really it was bittersweet. I knew by now that my days were numbered, that an end to my time there was imminent. (Whether temporary or not I didn’t know then and still don’t know now, but knew that permanence was a possibility). So I was joyful to be with them, but there were many moments that I would fight back tears, however unsuccessfully sometimes, knowing what was coming. They told me not to be sad. And probably thought I was a little silly. But a good friend told me that it’s probably really good for these boys to see someone upset to leave them. So many people have let these boys down in their lives, so many have left them. It is probably a very good thing for them to see that I care for them so much that I can't contain my sadness about leaving.

One way I show people my love is cooking for them. So I baked for the boys almost every day, which they really enjoyed. I cooked lunch for all of them one of my last days.  It was a downright joyous day—one I’ll always remember. I played soccer with them for a little while then I got underway in the kitchen. Working with a huge pot and one gas burner I worked on making a stew. I had curious heads popping in and out the whole time I was cooking. When the director got there in the early afternoon he walked in the center, and without knowing I was in there cooking, asked one of the boys what smelled good. J T, who I talked about here, stayed in there keeping me company basically the whole time I was cooking. It was sweet. We played games on my phone and chatted about all sorts of things like our fears and how Jesus put others before himself. I tried to teach him and another boy some yoga poses…with little success. Oh, it was so fun.

Asbuur (here, here, and here) who is ornery and talented and lazy, whom I just adore, came in to return my mp3 player that he had been borrowing that afternoon. He half-jokingly said that I should let him keep my mp3 player to remember me. I laughed and said “What, you won’t remember me if I don’t give you my mp3 player?” His face got really serious and he said, “No, no, no. I will not forget you.” A little while later he came back in and said “Don’t forget us, Bess. We will not forget you.” My eyes got watery (of course) and I told him that was impossible--I would never, ever forget them. A couple of boys were in the kitchen with me and told me how much they would miss me. I said I would miss them so much too. Sigh. And I do.

Lunch went over well. I accidently made way too much. I have no idea how to gauge the appetites of 30 growing boys plus teachers. They thought this was hilarious, this huge quantity of food. But the boys ate with gusto, and all of them until they were full, which they don’t always get to do.

I ended up flying out several days earlier than I had originally planned. It wasn’t safe for me to stay and the day I got my passport back I switch my flight and flew that night, after no small amount of anxiety about being further detained at the airport and prevented from flying. (Do you know the song “Whom Shall I Fear? [God of the Angel Armies]” by Chris Tomlin? This was one of my ‘anthems’ during these couple of weeks, and that day specificially.)

Anyway, so that day was bonkers. By the grace of God I was able to get done almost all that I’d hoped to. The week prior I’d already gotten in a proper sort of goodbye with the boys at the younger center. It was very important for me to get a proper goodbye with the older boys, too. After a rather frantic morning and afternoon, in the late afternoon I made my way there praying the whole time that all of the boys would be there, which never happens. There are almost always a few out and about doing whatever. But on this day, glory hallelujah, they were all there. There were tears in my eyes as I told them I was travelling that evening. They said that they will miss me. That the Lord is with me. That I will go and return with peace.

 

Earlier that week I had gotten a bunch of pictures printed out for each of them. They are always bugging me for copies of pictures, and I wanted them to each have a couple as a sort of goodbye present. I didn’t choose the most orderly manner of handing the pictures out. I basically said “I have pictures for you, go for it,” and handed them the pile. At this point I was going on like 4 hours of sleep in like the last 40 hours or something crazy, so I didn’t have the patience to be organized about it. So I sat back and let the chaos ensue.  

A few of the pictures were from a few days prior when I cooked lunch for them. I overheard one of the boys who wasn’t there that day ask two of the boys that were about the picture. One said that I cooked for them and said how good it was. And T, who sat with me in the kitchen, said that they all had full stomachs that day and that it was a “yoom jamiil”—a beautiful day. To hear him say that with such sincerity was a gift. To help give some of these boys a beautiful day in life, even just to be part of it; I feel like I don’t deserve that sort of grace.

Shortly after I asked one of the teachers to ring the bell and gather the boys so I could say a few things. I tried to keep it together while the teacher said some nice things. Thanking me for being there with them and assuring me that I would be back. With tears quietly sliding down my cheeks I told the boys that, as they knew, the government had closed my language school and that I needed to leave. I told them I didn’t want to. That they are the reason I came to this country, and they are the reason I want to stay. I told them that they are my brothers and I will do everything I can to try to come back. In case that can’t happen, that I will never, ever forget them--that each of them is in my heart forever. I told them how much God loves them and never to forget it. He is the most important thing in life.

The teacher asked for one boy to volunteer to say a few words. T thanked me and said they are sad for me to leave. He said how much they appreciated what I taught them and the things we did and some other nice things. Then I asked for us all to get a group picture. Which turned into an hour long photo shoot. The boys took turns with my camera and directed me and the other boys accordingly. We got several group shots. Then they each got individual shots with me. They got creative with some of the poses (as opposed to the usual standing there with a serious face and making gang signs with their hands.) They even got out hats for us to pose with. I was laughing and they were laughing and it was wonderful. During the prolific picture taking some of them felt comfortable enough to put their hand on my shoulder. It was harmless, and somehow comforting. I am their sister, after all.

It was the perfect, perfect good bye situation. I said all the things to the boys that I wanted to and we went out with laughter. I shook all of their hands, said “Ma’salaama” (go with peace) and left smiling, at peace, with so much thankfulness in my heart.

I walked the short distance to a friend’s house, listening to Meredith Andrews on my headphones sing “Even when I can’t see what’s in front of me, I will trust in the name of the Lord.” Crying tears of joy/sadness/exhaustion behind my sunglasses and praising God for my time in the land of sand, even if it was coming to a close much sooner than I ever hoped or expected.

 

I spent my last few hours with my support community. People who have loved me, taken care of me, and let me be a part of their families. People that I couldn't have coped without. Much laugher and tears, those last few days. Too many goodbyes.

I suppose it’s a blessing that I’ve built such good relationships, that I have loved the people there so much, that I have been so broken for this land, that it hurts to leave. I keep reminding myself that God loves these boys more than I do. That he can take better care of them than I ever could. My heart aches, it longs, to return. And I am hoping I can someday. Until then I shall continue to follow as he leads. Take this furlough time to reconnect with people, refuel, and get ready for whatever Arabic speaking land awaits me next. Hoping it is a return and not a restart…but the Lord goes before. Continue to pray for the people there. …Things are only getting worse.

“This is the Blessed Life—not anxious to see far in front, not careful about the next step, not eager to choose the path, nor weighted with the heavy responsibilities of the future, but quietly following behind the Shepard, one step at a time.” C. E. Cowman

Rewind

My life has changed a lot since a month ago. My language school was shut down, along with a number of other schools and businesses. I was forced to leave a country that I had come to love, that had become home…one where I wanted to stay….and still do.  An large number of us have left. Some remain, but the exodus continues. My experience was kind of traumatic. Along with being forced to leave, I was taken in by security for several days. I was questioned (in Arabic), my passport, phone, and school book were taken. (My phone returned after 2.5 weeks and my passport returned on the day I left. They refused to give back my language school book). I was followed, under surveillance, never knowing if or when they would show up to search my house. (I was also staying alone for over a week during this time). I was escorted home more than once my high ranking security men. I was stuck in an office with them and talked about in a language that I understood. We were offered no explanation. Things changed quickly and all the time. Information we were being given was also inconsistent. People told to leave by a certain day would have their passports confiscated again at the airport, missed flights and were further delayed. I was not physically harmed, but I know of some who were and are. There are lots and theories about what is going on, but no one knows. Just that this land of sand needs a lot of prayer.

In the coming weeks I’ll give a little rewind of this last month or so. What I shared above is probably the most detailed I can be about certain sensitive things. But in my last few weeks there, I had some of the best times with the boys at the centers. I’ll share those things because they were wonderful.

Let’s start with the Christmas celebration for the boys centers.  That was on Monday, Dec 17^th. It was a super fun day. I got there in the late morning to help decorate and such. I brought tape and a stapler and things, because I figured they would need them and not have them. This was exactly the case.

I did get a phone call that the school director and four of the students were taken into security. This was somewhat alarming, but thankfully I was at the celebration and had lots of things to occupy my mind away from worry. It was fun chatting with the boys and teachers; feeling like a little part of their world. The program was good, but long. The boys got their end-of-term school reports. All of them got presents, and were wearing the new outfits they picked out at the market. Teachers were given a bag of presents; something for each kid in the family. Different groups got up to sing. The younger and older boys each had a little drama. Lots of thank yous and such. I got called up to share something special with everyone.

See…a new hobby of mine is writing little poems and limericks in Arabic. They’re mostly silly, but its good Arabic practice and something I enjoy. I shared one of these little ones with one of the teachers. He thought it was funny and promptly made me say it for any and every one at the center. Then he told me that since was MCing the Christmas celebration I would have to say it then. I knew that he was serious. So instead of being embarrassed with a silly pointless poem, I decided to write one about Christmas--be embarrassed about one that is at least about the proper subject. So in the 2 weeks prior I worked on this poem and enlisted a little help with the grammar and such.

When he called me up the paper was shaking in my hands. I don't love being in front of groups. There is even more pressure when it's in your second language and you're reciting a poem that you wrote that very well might be terrible. I made it through all six stanzas. People started clapping while I was halfway through and continued to until I was done.  It was a relief to get it over with. People said I did a really good job, but like I’ve said before folks here are either really difficult or really easy to please. This crowd is one that is pretty easy to please.

As I spent that day chatting with people I love, watching the boys sing and strut around in their new clothes I couldn’t help but think about the news I got that morning, the dark clouds looming on the horizon, and just prayed for more time. For this door to stay open somehow. I want the time I’ve invested there to be a beginning and not just a two year stint.

But I absolutely am trusting God in all of this. He uses evil for good all the time. He loves these boys more than I do and is more than capable to look after them. We are praying, we are waiting. Things are happening. God is on the move.

"There's a passage in Exodus--God tells Moses, 'No one can see my face, but I will protect you with My hand until I have passed by you, and then I will remove my hand and you will see My back.' Well, I always thought that was a physical metaphor..but you know-I wonder now if it really isn't about time? Maybe that was God's way of telling us that we can never know His intentions, but as time goes on...we'll understand. We'll see where He was: We'll see His back." Mary Doria Russell

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” Psalm 46:1 I have learned this to be true in new and very real ways!