PICTURES FROM CHRISTMAS IN AFRICA

SORRY THIS IS SO LATE IN POSTING - BUT HERE ARE SOME OF THE FAVORITE PICS FROM THE DECEMBER TRIP TO MOZAMBIQUE.

Kids camp with 120 orphans where we loved them, taught them classes on caring for themselves, AIDS, abuse, Jesus love for them, and just lots of fun.

Crafts were a big deal - where we are so used to these little things in everyday life - it is a once in a lifetime thrill for them.
We bought them backpacks, team tee shirts, pencils and paper and a few other items. Then they filled out their letters to their sponsors. It was precious.

We went into remote Yao villages and shared the love of Jesus for these who have never heard of him. We trust there is a growing sense of the goodness of this Jesus in their minds and hearts as we leave.

We were planning on building a house for a very vulnerable family - Oswaldo's family is how it is known. Oswaldo, shown below, died the day before we got there. He was 14 years old (hardly believable looking at him), but so deformed and malnourished that he looked more like 8. He could only scoot on his bottom, not speak anything but grunts, but his loving charming personality captivated all who met him. We loved that little boy, and now trust that he is in the arms of Jesus - healed and full.

WE ARE PLANNING ANOTHER TRIP IN THE SUMMER IF YOU WANT TO COME - write me at orphanhope@gmail.com

A WHISPERED CALL

“Got purpose?”

“Nope, not right now.”

That’s my answer for today to the question merrily splashed across Dan’s t-shirt. I know, I know, it’s not the CORRECT one. Hopefully by tomorrow I’ll have wallowed long enough in the great questions of life and reminded myself of the unforeseen happenings of the last year that have brought us to this point.

Who could not see the hand of God in it all? Africa’s orphans had captured our hearts and so we resigned positions, not knowing exactly where we were headed, but wanting to follow the call. In the next months, we sold or gave away the trappings of 33 years of housekeeping, collecting and accumulating. It was a year of major adjustments—not only were the jobs and belongings gone, but over the past twelve months our family had shrunk from seven to three, and for the first time in 27 years I was no longer caring for young children.

Life as I knew it is gone, and the future is a big question mark. We came to Cape Town following a whisper of a call, trusting that during these six months of schooling the path would become clearer. So far it’s only become more muddied, with more options presenting themselves. It’s not just as if we lost balance for a moment, but as though the great tectonic plates upon which we’ve stood for years, decades even, are rumbling, ominously shifting, so that very little seems certain anymore.

Part of the stirring comes as our thinking is challenged here. We want to make a difference! But there are three strikes against us: first, we are ex-pastors, accustomed to an up-front style of leadership. It was our heart, it is still our heart, to love, care, encourage. But we see that to foment a movement, a growing surge of groups of Jesus-followers, a simpler, more grass-roots model is needed. The proverbial old dogs need to learn new tricks. So we are exploring new ways of thinking, fresh ruts for these creaking wheels.

Secondly, we are white. I’m feeling less and less sure of how white Westerners can empower and resource Africans who desperately need what we have to give. How do we share without creating shame, or dependency? Practically speaking, what place IS there for us here?

Strike three: we are no longer young. White Americans can perhaps be forgiven if they have youth on their side. It’s all about releasing young leaders, the next generation. Yes! I agree! But what happens to the old people? How can the generations work together? As Dan says, who knows, maybe we are not to do much orphan work at all, but are to mobilize and walk with young people, black and white, to start such work in various locations.

More questions than answers here. But I trust that in this shifting sand there is a rock. In my continuing battle with disc pain, I’m learning to trust the One who loves me as never before. I’m catching a glimpse of a life free of guilt and self-condemnation. I’m falling for the Lover of my soul. I’m being healed, physically and otherwise. So…though “purpose” may be eluding me at the moment, I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us (from Romans). Thank you, our friends, for walking with us. It means more than you can know!