Men of the Village

Melisa and I were looking at some of the photos she got from her trip to Mozambique, and one struck me more than others.  In the picture below, the people are gathered for Sunday worship in the village of Chiamete.  As you can see, all of the people on the right side of the photo are women, sitting on the floor.  On the left side, you can see some people sitting on chairs.  Melisa explained that most of the people on the left were from the Chapel team or were from World Relief.  The lone exception was a man from the village.  He was the ONLY man from the village at the service.  That’s not to say he was the only man in the village, however.  Melisa said on one occasion, she and another Chapel team member and one World Relief person went for a walk to see the water station.  On the way, they saw a man in his front yard, and he greeted them warmly.  Other than him and the man at the church, Melisa only saw one other man from the village.

When one thinks about what the Bible says about men and women being joined in marriage, and about the role of the husband in the marriage, particularly relating to spiritual leadership, you can easily see how difficult it must be for families to thrive when the men are not present.  I asked Melisa what she had learned about where the men were.  Simply, they were either away at work – usually in another country – or they were dead.  The reports of the impact of AIDS in Africa are not overstated.  Entire villages and families have been decimated by the impact of this disease.  Unlike the spread of the disease in the U.S. and other countries, AIDS in Africa is often spread through heterosexual contact.  Men go away to work for long periods of time and get involved with other women.  They contract the disease and bring it home to their wives.  This, along with the absence of proper medical care for virtually any illness, contributes to a very high mortality rate among young people.  For many, life expectancy in the villages is 37 years.

Thankfully, the availability of fresh water in these villages has contributed to a decrease in crocodile deaths and has led to a 90% decrease in the rate of cholera.  But there is so much need for basic medical care, AIDS education and other things we consider elementary parts of life.  Please pray for these people!

Changed

Melisa’s comments remind me so much of what I experienced in India.  I wasn’t posting on this blog at that time or I might have written about that trip.  My younger sisters have both spent time overseas, one in Africa (well, actually she’s been in Asia and Europe a lot from her former work life) and the other in Central America.  My younger brother who is now deceased did a mission trip to Cuba.

Each of us in our own way, must process what we see and figure out how we can come to grips with the utter lack of things where we have been and the incredible supply of them here in the US.  My sister Karen said that, to her, returning to the US is harder than going to the poorer country.  I suspect that is because we become immune to what we exist with here and see it afresh when we return.  My friend Mary, who has served for lengthy periods in the Philippines, reminds me that the returning person must write down what they have seen and experienced, and they must talk about it in the hope of raising awareness among our fellow citizens.

If you are willing to read, we are willing to write, hence the title of this blog, “Reflecting the World.”

In many ways, the people I deal with who are “participants” in the criminal justice system are as foreign to the majority of us as people in other countries.  Maybe one difference is that it is harder for us to feel concern for them because we suppose they can and should live up to our standards.  When they don’t we put them down or write them off.  They don’t get the benefit of our thought that they are somehow limited because they are from a third world country.  But if you get the chance to deal with them as people – perhaps through a prison visit or otherwise – you begin to see the complexity of the person emerge.  And, as when we truly engage people from foreign cultures, seeing the breadth of the person opens a whole new perspective on our fellow man.  Once you have a chance to experience this, you cannot help but be changed.

Back Home

Wow – I’m not sure I can follow up to my husband’s writings about me!  What a wonderful job he did capturing my trip considering we probably only spoke for a total of 15 minutes while I was gone!

It has been quite an adjustment coming back home – so much bigger than I had anticipated.  Looking back over my time away, I see God’s hand in everything we did and saw.  My view of Him as the Almighty Creator is so much greater now.  My world is so small . . .

The plane rides went so well.  I knew that people were praying.  I had a strange calmness and peace that I have NEVER had while flying.

After four planes, and almost 36 hours of flying, we landed in Maputo and I will never forget that feeling.  We all just felt like we were on the verge of something – but we didn’t know exactly what.  It is hard for me to capture the images I saw driving to Chiamete.  As we drove, we saw dirty streets, children trying to sell mangos and cashews to stopped vehicles, street-side vendors with shoes hanging from trees, and lots of activity.  As we drove away from the city (four hours later), our paved roads turned into sand and dirt, as far as you could see.  The activity lessened and the poverty just became immense.  I could not believe my eyes – Stone Age is what comes to my mind.  We pulled into the compound and my first thought was “Oh my, I cannot do this!”  I wish I could say it was more profound, but that was it!  For those of you who know me, I don’t camp – at all!  This was beyond camping!  Knowing that we all felt overwhelmed helped us get through that first initial impact!  Three area village women stayed at the compound with us and cooked our meals, washed our clothes, and basically took care of us.  They were our first contact and it was delightful to meet them!   That first night was strange to say the least – lizards crawling in sinks, the sound of the witch doctor’s drums, the high-pitched bats, and then the rooster crowing at 4:00 a.m.!  I remember laying in my bed laughing out loud – I just couldn’t believe I was there.

God showed up every single day, like He always does.   But there were times that my doubts weighed more than my faith, if you know what I mean.  The women were so grateful for us to bring them the Word of God, the Bread of Life.  I think of how many Bibles I have in my home and how many times I ignore it to do other things.  You know, more important things like Facebook . . .   I felt so ashamed.  We take so much for granted.  What a privilege it was to teach them and to remind them of their freedom in Christ.  Rituals and traditions are a problem there – some churches teach they can’t wear earrings and be a Christian, or that after having a baby the woman has to throw the church a party (with her own money) or she can’t return, or that animal sacrifices are still required for the cleansing of sin.   We talked a lot about freedom from the law, found in Galatians 5, and it gave them such peace knowing the truth.  It struck me that this is a universal problem in the body of Christ – so many different denominations that have so many man-made rules that have nothing to do with the blood of Jesus Christ, and His blood alone.   Even in the good ole’ USA, we need to remember this!

We had wonderful discussions about worship, about giving our best, roadblocks to true worship, and how to worship during times of suffering.  They loved the story of Paul and Silas found in Acts 16.  I reminded them that it is during times of suffering that people around us watch and listen.  They are looking to see if we mean what we say.  They want to know where our hope is found and why we even have hope.   These women face such incredible suffering:  many of them have lost children to death, many are widows, they work in the fields all day to eat, and work all night taking care of their families and friends.  Yet they are joyful because they have Christ!  Its the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen.  And the way they sing . . . I was so jealous!!  We had wonderful times of sharing our thanks to God and our burdens with each other.  I will never forget the young widow who was grieving all over again for her lost husband (he had died two years ago) because they had just buried her sister’s husband (28 years old) two days earlier!  The whole room was in tears with her and I reminded them as sisters in Christ, we rejoice with those who rejoice and we mourn with those who mourn.  It was good to mourn with her, and then I read the passage in 2 Cor. 1:3-4, about the God of all comfort!  Thank God for the promises we have in the Bible!

The children . . . oh my . . . the children.  I could never begin to describe the poverty  I saw.  All of them were dirty, little clothing – some only in underwear, and no shoes on burning hot sand.  Yet they would hold your hand and look at you with a smile that would light up a room!  It was hard not to cry around them because we wanted to be positive and fun, but it would hit me like a ton of bricks back in my room.   I literally had 10 children walking behind me one afternoon, each had one finger, and some extra hanging on my arms.  They just wanted love – don’t we all?

On our last day, one of the women spoke and she said she couldn’t wait until the day we were all together again in Heaven with no limitations, no barriers, no unfamiliar language, only togetherness, worshiping our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.  It almost felt like Heaven right at that moment.  The family of God is a mysterious thing, but it is real.  I saw it and experienced it first hand.  We ended our stay by participating in a concert with other groups.  Wow – that was awesome – to be able to sing “Mighty to Save” with our African brothers and sisters – the words of that song still ring in my head “Savior, He can move the mountains.  My God is mighty to save!”   And He is, and He does, and He will continue to do so until He returns to take us home!

I could type on and on – so many great things to talk about.  But I don’t want to bore you!  Thank you so much for those who prayed for us.  We truly lived off of those prayers every minute of every day.  Please pray for the people of Mozambique. Their needs are many – so much that its hard to know how to pray!   And I encourage any of you who are struggling with obedience right now . . . if God is calling you to do something that you feel you cannot do . . . He is worth trusting.   It is not easy – and I will not tell you that this trip was a piece of cake. It was THE hardest thing I have ever done in my life, but I can honestly say that I will never be the same.  God was with me each step, even the one that led to the lizard in my sink!  ha ha

In Christ Alone,

Melisa

It’s Complicated

Those who have come home from a third world country (I hate that term but can’t think of a less verbose one to convey the thought) experience a range of emotions.  I can’t claim to be an expert on the topic, having only done it once.  When I see home-returning missionaries at our church, I find myself wondering how they regard life in the USA after they have lived where things are so different.  When you come from a country where entire villages have no running water and, therefore, bathing is itself a luxury, how do you react to, say, our national preoccupation with NFL football?  My wife is a pretty avid Steelers fan.  When she got off the plane Sunday and heard the Steelers had lost their game that day, her comment was pretty telling, when she said, “Somehow football doesn’t seem all that important to me at the moment.”

Does the returning missionary feel compelled to decry the consumption that is so prevalent in our nation?  Perhaps to ride high on the “I’m glad I’m not like those people” road?  Or, when someone complains about lacking something, to think, “I’ve seen deprivation, and this is no deprivation.”  I don’t think it is possible to make broad brush conclusions about what groups of people think.  But for the believer, coming home to a culture of consumption after leaving a culture of deprivation might evoke a range of emotions such as sadness, bewilderment, hope for the arrival of “that day,” or a desire to tell the world about the One who can change hearts and provides for needs.  The lost-ness of those who believe that consumption will secure happiness is much more evident to the returning person than it was to the one about to embark on a ministry trip.

Melisa saw the same thing among her African friends that I saw in India: people who had nothing.  At least few material things.  But, they also had something that you cannot buy: happiness. Someone said that those who know the Lord and have few things do not grieve over that they do not have, but they glory over what they know.  Again, I am cautious about broad brush conclusions of that sort.  And such conclusions should never be used as a reason for these who have not to help those who lack.  But it is easy to see that though we have many more things in our possession here, we don’t necessarily have better people.  Or happier people.

Melisa told me that the women in one of her teaching times said they liked hearing the story Jesus told of the widow who offered her two small coins, what the Bible indicated to be “all she had to live on.” (Luke 21:4)  They said it made them feel better about giving what they could when it was time to make an offering.  She said the people she met have a profound faith in God and an acute understanding that He is their only hope and provider.  Of course, He is our only hope and provider too.  I wish I did a better job of remembering that more often.

Sorting through the feelings and emotions that accompany the returning ministry trip traveler is a challenge, because we – at least most of us – are called to live here.  Sorting through these feelings while attempting to overcome jet lag is even more daunting.  Knowing that such things are whirring around the mind of your returning friend might make you sort through them for yourself.

For those who read this blog and have made and returned from such trips, your observations are welcome!

She’s Home

Today saw the return of the Chapel team from Mozambique.

That looks so simple when I read it on the screen in front of me.  They were gone.  Now they are home.  Months from now these twelve days will in some ways seem like twelve minutes and in others twelve weeks.  Melisa has started to unscroll the information she has had packed in to her mental compartments over the time of the trip, but also from the weeks of preparation leading up to it.  Some of it comes to the surface like big masses of bubbles escaping from an underwater tank.  Others have come like a single small bubble wobbling slowly up.

Relationships.  She has told of the teaching times when the women laughed because we keep fish in a tank.  They wanted to know if we keep them there until they are big enough to eat.  They found it comical that we had a cat in the house that is named Tiger.  Now, they know tigers.  They wanted to know if Melisa works in the fields, like they do.  They could not understand why she’d want to work in a building or how she could eat if she did not grow food in a field.  They could not grasp the concept of buying food grown by a farmer who sold it to another person, who sold it to her.

Heat.  She said the heat in Mozambique at this time of year is oppressive.  Many days were nearly 100 degrees F.   This affected everything the team did, but they adapted and pressed on with the work they went to Africa to do.  At the airport in Maputo last night, there was one departure.  The plane our team was on heading for Lisbon, Portugal.  Our faithful travelers were the last people on the aircraft from what had been a packed terminal sweltering in 100 degree heat at 11:00 p.m.  Oh, in case you were wondering…there was no air conditioning.

Brass instruments.  The team performed concerts in villages and in church last Sunday, and at a facility last evening in Maputo.  Apart from the last venue, most people for whom they played had never heard a trumpet or any brass instrument being played.  So, you want to bring out a village crowd?  Have a bunch of white people from America show up after dark, arrange them under a tree and have them start to play some four piece brass song.  That’ll work every time.  Each time this was done, team leader Jim Mitchell also spoke about why the team had come to Africa, about how much Jesus loved the people in those villages and about what He had done to procure their salvation.  Melisa said the people were enthusiastic and receptive.

Disbelief.  One woman in Melisa’s teaching time had not attended such sessions in past visits by teams from The Chapel.  She wanted to know why these white people would want to come to spend time with, as she said it, black people.  She said, “There must be something different about you.”  So true.

The boy.   One boy, about four or five years old, had been rescued from an orphanage in a terribly malnourished state.  He was so weak and sick his naturally black hair had started to turn burnt orange.  During the times he spent with the women from the team, Melisa observed that he never cried or complained.  When she asked one of the local women why not, she was told that this child was near death when he was brought out of the orphanage.  He’d probably cried the first two years of his life.  She said, “Suffering makes little ones mature quickly.”

The walk.  One day, Melisa and two other team members went for a walk.  The village children were so intrigued or in need that they followed along.  Melisa said at one point, she had five children holding her hand, one child to each finger.  Two other kids repeatedly stroked her arm as she walked with them.  Their parents were working in the fields.  The kids trusted the visitors.

The girls were very excited to see their mom come home.  After people started exiting Concourse C at Hopkins Airport, one of them said he’d come from the Newark flight.  The girls stood at the verge of the “Do Not Enter” hallway, waiting.  When Mom stepped into view, all three let out a scream of joy and folded up into a long group hug.  So nice.

We often lose sight of how much those we love mean to us when we have them every day.  The truth is, there is no guarantee we’ll get another “every day” sort of day.  Thus, we relish our reunions and dread our next separation.

I’ll try to write more of the trip as I learn of it from my dear bride.

Waiting

Eleven hour flights are long, no matter how you look at them.  If you are on the flight, they become mini-days.  You get a couple of meals, movie time, nap or bed time, and plenty of chances to read and listen to your iPod.  If you are on the ground, you can drive out to get pizza, clean up your house, shave and take a shower, go to meet with your HABF friends, clean your kitchen, balance your checkbook, and write a blog post.  And all that is before you go to bed and sleep four or five hours.

Now, if you follow the elven hour flight with an 8 hour flight, you are really talking!  You can do all of the above things and MORE.  Go to church, clean the house, go to the store, drive to the airport, watch a football game, and spend time with the fam.

Seriously, one can see how this would be tiring.  Today, Grace wondered how her mommy could be tired if she was just sitting on a plane and not doing any work.  Ah, the mind of a child.  It is wondrous to behold.  This evening, Grace wrote Melisa a letter in which she said, “Well, we got through it.”  And she said, “Please don’t ever do that again.”  When I complained about that sentiment, she added, “Unless God calls you to do it.”  At the end she wrote that “maybe” she’d write another letter sometime.  Isn’t that great?  Oh to be so open and honest in one’s personal correspondence!

The flight from Newark to Cleveland cannot get here soon enough for me!

R & R

Melisa called this afternoon at about 2:00 our time, 9:00 p.m. local time.  She said the team had made a safe journey from the villages to the Indian Ocean resort where they would be spending the night tonight.  She sounded refreshed and, perhaps, relieved that nearly all of their ministry work was done. It was certainly good to hear the sound of her voice!  She said the week had been “stressful” and that the day to regroup and reflect before heading to the airport tomorrow night was a welcome respite.  When I asked her how she felt, she said, “Really good.”   That was welcome news!

The team will still perform one concert tomorrow at 5:00 p.m.  After that, the team will eat dinner out together and then go to the airport.

Now, on the home front, we have a house that is torn up!  We had decided to replace our kitchen floor while Melisa was gone.  I guess the contractor didn’t get the concept that “while she is gone” meant that I’d like the work done by the time she returned.  After three days of steady, but measured progress, I indicated what I had been hoping for.  Since then, the pace has picked up dramatically.  But, the job will not be finished by Sunday evening.  Thus, my travel-weary bride will come home to a house that has coats from the closet lying on floors, all of our appliances in the dining room, chairs everywhere and a general layer of construction dust on all horizontal surfaces.  (Think of how the house in the Cat in the Hat looked before all the pink stuff got cleaned up!)

Our good friend Christine dropped off some home-made soup last night and I mentioned that Melisa would not be happy to see such a state.  Wise Christine said, “Oh, she will think this is just beautiful.”

 

A Beautiful Sight

 

 

You know?  She’s right.

All of you who have read these postings are friends and family – and maybe a few friends of friends.   You all know how nervous Melisa has been about flying.  Would you please pray that she’ll have a good set of flights home tomorrow, starting at about 5:00 p.m. our time?  Thanks!

Pretty Quiet

I spoke to Melisa for, oh, about one minute this morning.  It seems the team really is out of minutes.  Thus, all she was able to say is that she couldn’t talk.

I must confess this is less communication than I would have hoped for, but maybe it has been a blessing in disguise in keeping the girls from focusing on how much they miss their mom.  Not sure.  I do know that God knows the situation and we are trusting Him.  At least we are trying to keep doing so, even if we stumble in our thoughts from moment to moment.

The team is now finished with their ministry activity in the villages.  Tomorrow morning after eating, they will make the four-hour land rover journey back toward Maputo and stop at a resort on the Indian Ocean for some R&R and decompression time.  On Saturday early evening, they sing one concert – I think in Maputo.  At about midnight Saturday (5 p.m. our time) they fly out of Maputo bound for Lisbon, Portugal.  From there they fly to Newark.  They arrive in Cleveland from Newark at about 6:00 p.m. Sunday (a  nifty 25 hour travel day!)

It is pretty remarkable what your mind can do when the one you love the best is out of touch.  Obviously, this is small stuff compared to true long-term separation.  I can only imagine what it is like to say goodbye to someone being deployed to a military assignment for, say, a year.  What must it have been like to say goodbye to someone who was on a ship crossing the ocean two hundred years ago – when the person would be at sea for three months and then it would take six months just to exchange a letter!

The Mayflower

In our age of telecommunications, we really don’t understand separation in the way our forebears did.  We are separation weenies by comparison.   But I guess we have adjusted our expectations based on what we have come to experience.

Thankfully, there is a place - available to those who believe - in which there will be no separation, no anguish, and no tears.  Thankfully, there is One who has shown us what it means to believe.  We hope and trust that many of our African friends will be able to celebrate being there, thanks to the work being done there now.

Showers of Blessing

You have to appreciate what is depicted in this photo.  This is a scene in the visitor’s compound in the Village of Chiamete, where Melisa and the team are staying.  The 55 gallon drum on its side holds water that is pumped from the river two miles away.  It is perched above a pit in which village women build a fire when shower time comes for the visitors.  Then, the fire-heated water is pumped through pipes to the showers, one of which can be seen in the far left of the photo.  As you might surmise, there is no roof on the shower, so one can see stars when showering!  One of our pastors says you have to time your shower just right, too early – water cold; too late – skin scalded right off!  But what a wonderfully inventive and considerate thing it is to have sh0wers at all.  To my knowledge, no one else in this village of 10,000 people has a shower.

Directly behind the water drum is the lavatory where the men get ready after their showers.  The women get ready on the opposite side of the little cubicle.

For those of you who know my wife, you know that she does not do “camping.”  We joke that her definition of camping is staying at the Ritz and ordering room service.  When I talked to her the other day, she freely admitted that her concern about her morning makeup had melted away in the impressive African heat.  I can’t wait to hear how she liked getting ready in this way.  Simply, this IS the Ritz of this village.  And it is very kind of the villagers and those supporting them to have provided such extravagant amenities.

Why Do We Long for the Familiar?

As I reflect on Melisa’s state of mind over these past few days and think back to my own from when I was in India, I wonder why we so long to get back to the familiar when we are away in a strange place being tested by the God we love?  We know what the Bible says, that we are to “Consider it pure joy when we face trials” because it is a time to deepen our faith.  But no one I know wants to take such tests.

Let’s face it, you don’t have to go to Africa to be tested.  Some people I know – five widows to be specific – are strong believers and are experiencing the often excruciating pain of not having their spouses with them any more.  One said recently she just needed to breathe – literally.  She’d found it insurmountable to deal with the broken water heater, the car that would not work and other “routine” things gone wrong. (Ever notice that these things are not routine when you don’t have a routine way to deal with them?)  Another recently had many of her husband’s friends come over to take possession of some of the tools and mementos of his former trade.  Although good times of commemoration were had, seeing formerly used or valued things being carried out the door had to be difficult beyond description.

I wonder if we want to skip the tests and return to the “normal” or the “familiar” so that we can have a better sense that things are “under control.”  But, when things are “under control” who is doing the controlling?  We think we are (at least I do).  But we really are not.  I am convinced God is in control of all things.  Often, it is only when we are not in control that we cry out to God, saying, “Help me please!”  Maybe he tests and stretches us so that we will realize that He is the one who holds all things together.  Maybe he takes us away from situations we think we control so that we will realize our utter dependence on Him, during the easy times and the hard.

I could sure do a better job of realizing that there is not one moment of my day, my year or life that I am in control.  The Bible says, “If it were [God's] intention and he withdrew his spirit and breath, all mankind would perish together and man would return to the dust.” (Job 34:14)  “In him, all things hold together.” (Colossians 1:17)

So, when I want to be “in control” am I not saying I want to be the god of my life?  As I think about my dear wife’s mission and the battle she is fighting, my prayer is that I will remember not only that God’s ways are not my ways but also that His ways are the best ways, regardless of the circumstances.  This realization might help the next time I find myself not “in control.”

Oops.  That would be now.