Drink Chai and Settle Down

Sometimes, from a distance, life in Africa seems quiet and serene.  I think that's when I haven't been living here for a while.  It is quiet, in its own way, not in a lack-of-noise way, or a lack-of-people-coming-to-the-gate way, but more in a relaxed way.  Quiet, as in, if you are in a hurry, you should stop it and relax and go drink a cup of chai until you get that out of your system.  Quiet, as in, why did you plan to get so many things in town on the same morning?  Because that rarely happens and you might be setting yourself up for disappointment.

As I type, I have ten neighborhood children from around the corner playing soccer in the yard, greeting me through the window.  Which can take a very long time, since greetings have to be done individually.  And that is not a problem, just a consideration when everyone gets invited in.  This morning we had electricians in the house to fix the problem of the house power shutting down when I turned the oven on.  We can make it without an oven, but it sure is nice to have one.  I'm gonna make these guys some bread first-thing. :)

The last time they came, they found a massive mound of grass in our attic that had been brought in by some over-zealous birds, along with significant amount of bat guano.  That got hauled out, down through the bathroom ceiling for the entire morning, about thirty bucket's worth.  whew.  Today they were still working around lunch time so they ate with us.  Then Esther, who blesses our socks off by helping in the house, had a toothache, so we put some medicine on it and I recommended going to the dentist but she said she might just wait until it stops hurting and then she can just pull it out. (!!)

The milk arrives at the gate on bicycle, brought by a man who wears a bright green Christmas hat.  I'm not sure why he does, but it comes in handy because I always know it's him.  The milk is brought in, boiled, skimmed, put in the fridge.  The beans are sorted, the rice is sorted, washed, and cooked.  At times I really like having the house to myself and decide that the kids and I can just do everything.  So we end up sorting beans during chai time and washing rice in the afternoon.  Or I decide, what's the big deal with washing the rice, and we all break our teeth on the rocks I didn't pick out.  Or we're doing math problems frantically while we get the laundry down because it's going to rain.  And it works, in a sense, but then when Esther is here there is a degree of sanity that arrives as well. :)

And then we have to figure out if we have a guard or not.  Can't we just live in the house with our dog and not worry about a guard?  Well, yes, but then guards are mostly just a precaution anyways, as they are usually either sleeping or trying to wake you up.  I remember our first morning in Africa, 2005, and the sun had just started to think about coming up when the guard, Emma, was standing next to our bedroom window hoeing weeds from the concrete.  6 o'clock in the morning.  Clink, clink, clink.  And, as we have come to suspect, it is a sign of a hard worker to be up early, so the guard tries to let you know that he is up early by making noise.  Like talking on the phone right outside the window a couple of days ago.  Or snipping the bushes out front into nice, smooth, round balls, Disney-style. While I'm trying to get a couple more winks in.   And all we can do is lay in bed and laugh.
Or cry.
I choose laugh.
We have collected a plethora of humorous guard stories in our repertoire of house sitting.  Like when our light finally went out at night about 11:30 and Dave's phone rang.  And it was the guard right outside the window, calling him to let him know a door was unlocked.  And the reception was bad, which was good, because we could hear him clearer through the window than on the phone.  And we had a new awareness of exactly how un-private our lives were.  And this same guard, he liked to sit right outside the living room window and wind his flashlight to recharge it.  Whirrr, whirrr, whirrrrrrrrrr.   In a similar way to knowing the wind is blowing but not being able to see it, the guard's presence is felt in so many unique ways.

When you get out on the street there is not a shred of privacy.  I mean, we get stares in America when we walk around with this many children.  Here, one white person is a novelty, much less nine of us.
Last week I walked by an evangelistic meeting that had been set up near our house.  I was trying to be nonchalant and the girls and I were walking on the other side of the road.  All of a sudden the Swahili changed to English, "We are waiting for you!!"  I'm pretty sure I was the one they were waiting for.  Blending in is ever-elusive.

And at other times the advice starts coming,
"Don't let the baby suck his thumb."
"Why are you carrying the baby that way?  That's not how to carry a baby."
They grab the baby, he starts crying, "He's crying!  You need to nurse him!"
And then another lady, "You need to wean him!"
The most hilarious time was a little kindergartner who came to my gate and I arrived, carrying the baby facing out.  "White lady!  You don't carry a baby like that!!!"  Even the little children know how to carry babies better than I do.

The main topic of conversation, if you're seeing friends you haven't seen in a while, is how you have expanded.  "Wow, Mama Hannah, you are FAT!  Where have you been?  America?  Oh wow--America has been good to you!  Because you are BIG!  You had a baby?  Oh, that's probably why you're so LARGE!"  The thing I liked most about this conversation is how it didn't faze me in the slightest.  I know, I know, bring it on.  Fat, fat, fat.  Keep talking until you get it all out.  I was just excited to be in a country where everyone thought I looked so much better large. :)  And frankly, it felt really good to not have the slightest bit of self-consciousness about the whole thing.  If I come back and tell you that you look fat, remember it's a compliment.

And finally, the "Quiet Life" is punctuated by "Hodi"'s--the Swahili equivalent of a knock on the door.  "Hodi, Hodi," and it just continues until you go to the gate.  It may be the little children looking for playmates, or the man with the chickens who wants water for them, or a mama wanting help with food or a little business or a friend stopping by for a visit or a medical need or my neighbor selling cabbage...the thing about hodi's is that you always have to be ready for anything.

Sometimes at the beginning of the day, I feel like I'm at the top of a roller coaster, looking down, down at the track.  I know I can't fall off the track, but I also anticipate a wild ride.  It's a good ride--guided by the One who prepared this course just for me.

“I have always been complaining that my work was constantly interrupted, until I slowly discovered that my interruptions were my work.”--Henri J. Nouwen

I am poor and needy

I sliced my finger right over the knuckle a couple of weeks ago.  Had it bandaged up good, after some    super glue, since stitches aren’t the greatest option around here.  So my ring finger protruded into the air flat, while the rest of the fingers tried to compensate, and it was obvious I had injured my hand.  No big deal—it wasn’t painful and only a minor inconvenience.

I was standing outside our only main grocery store in town.  I met an old friend who usually hangs out outside, watching people’s cars for them to earn a little money.  He is a Christian and it was a nice time to catch up.  He asked about my hand, and when I told him what had happened, he was so, so sorry for me.  I could see in his eyes that he genuinely felt compassion for me and my finger. 

Which was remarkable, considering he was standing on one leg with the other pant tied up to the knee.  He lost his other leg when he was little after being bitten by a snake and getting an infection.  So for about 36 years now he has had one good leg to use. He rides a special handicap bicycle, tries to make ends meet for himself and his wife and two babies.  His compassion taught me how little I actually have.

 

I have been thinking about these bits of wisdom in Galatians 2:10 when Paul and Barnabas head to the Gentiles, the others to the Jews, “All they asked was that we should continue to remember the poor, the very thing I was eager to do.”  They were being sent out with the Gospel, and remembering the poor was of utmost importance to all of them.  In fact, Paul was eager to remember them.  I bet he even went out of his way to find them.

Before we left Africa a year and a half ago, I had been convicted to not walk by the poor without giving them something.  I don’t necessarily mean money; sometimes money is actually the easiest thing to give.  But I challenged myself to at least look them in the eyes and smile.  Or better still, give them my time.  I wanted them to know they are loved whether or not I give them money.  I wanted to get past my own arrogance of thinking I know what everyone’s “racket” is…the little street boys managed by the older street boys, who turn the money into drugs of one kind or another.  Then there are the mamas who sit on the streets,  parts of their bodies missing from leprosy or other infection.There are so many of them, and I don’t ignore them because I think they have a racket, I ignore them because my heart can’t bear to think about what kind of life they have day in and day out.  Not that my ignoring them makes their lives any better.

Peter and John, when they went into the temple and walked past the lame man, they looked at him.  And I bet if they didn’t heal him, they still would have looked, listened. 

The least I can do is look, smile.

But last week I didn’t look, and someone was coming up to the car again and I didn’t have money ready and I didn’t want them to be hopeful that I did.  Dave got some money out, handed it to me and when I opened the window to hand it to the person, I was faced with a man whose entire face had been completely burned.  He had sunglasses on, no doubt to protect and hide his eyes. His teeth came out at jagged angles and he had to take the money from my hand with both smooth stubs of what used to be arms before they were burnt off.  “God bless you,” as tears formed, was all I had time for before the line of cars moved us along, and he did his best to smile and he blessed me back.  It doesn’t seem fair that I should be so blessed, and he should be so…what looks like not blessed.

Yet I am poor and needy; may the Lord think of me.  

You are my help and my deliverer; O my God, do not delay. Ps. 40:17

Deliver me from my foolishness and from the temporary.  Fix my eyes on the eternal.

Listen, my dear brothers: Has not God chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world to be rich in faith and to inherit the kingdom he promised those who love him?

James 2:5

Yes, He has.  And if I had a proper view of poverty, I would not reduce it to material possessions and forget how impoverished my own faith and character can be.

Who is wise and understanding among you?  

Let him show it by his good life,

  by deeds done in the humility that comes from wisdom. James 3:13

Always learning...

the end of our trip...Kate still looking chipper!

I learned something new today.  Neema came to visit, presenting me with a bright orange wrap stamped heartily with zebras.  In stark contrast to “what did you bring me from America?,” Neema used all the profit she might make on the other cloth she had with her, to buy me that special gift.  She came way out of her way to welcome us back.  We shared mutual joy over a cup of chai.

That is not what I learned.  As she was leaving, I asked her if she needed to use the bathroom before she headed back into town.  “yes,” she graciously replied.  Dave gently mentioned that maybe I shouldn’t have asked it that way.  He said it is better to ask if you want to greet your aunt and everyone would know what you meant.  This had me laughing already when we probed Neema for what might be a better way to ask that sensitive question.

“Well, you might want to ask instead if they want to dig up medicine (natural medicine; roots). 

Or visit the post office. 

Or make a phone call.”

And they would know what I meant? 

“Probably.”

My first lesson back.  How little I know!

Returning has been a sweet wonder.  I see things that I had grown accustomed to.  The streets have gotten so narrow!  The signs on the public vans are humorous.  I ache again for the man “walking” on his knees with a stick, and the street boy digging in the gutter for a treasure.  My heart is stirred by the cheerful welcome of the market ladies I love, even if it’s just because I buy so many tomatoes. J  There is so much dust, on everything, and mopping is ever so much more rewarding.  And my girls curtsy and greet the respectful greeting, and life seems rich and full as we wade again into this culture. 

“In Him we live, and move, and have our being.”

And the whole earth is full of His glory. 

I’m marveling at His glory here with fresh, thankful eyes.

A letter to my son

Dear Benjamin,

Ever since we learned you were on the way, we have been filled with anticipation.  Your birth was the culmination of months of feeling you, wondering about you, guessing who you were.  Kate has been wearing her "Big Sister" shirt since November. :)  You have been sung to, talked to, loved, kissed, and prayed for, long before you entered the world.  

Your birth is another testimony of God's hand in your still-tiny life: we planned a home birth, excited to have all the family there in your first few minutes of life, and as it turned out I didn't even get to hold you until several hours after you were born.  

In one day God changed our plans from home to hospital to C-section, for His glory and our good.  Another testimony of how "bad" things are used in His sovereign, good plan,  the midwife was too sick to make a visit and we chose to go with the doctor and hospital instead.
And that endless monitoring that I so wanted to avoid probably saved your life.  When they opened me up to get you out fast they saw the cord wrapped around your neck three times, tight, the placenta pulling away; and after they pulled you out of me, three minutes until they suctioned you out and you finally cried while daddy and I watched, wide-eyed.

I am amazed when I look back on the last year--how God used your life and the promise of you to bring hope and excitement to our family in the midst of so much change.  One might think that having another child would add to the chaos, the weight.  On the contrary!  Your life is such a sweet gift to every one of us, and cherishing your new life is our collective joy.  

I pray that you will have an insatiable desire to know your God.  I pray that your feet may be fitted with the Gospel of peace and that your hands will reach out in mercy to the needy. May your lips speak what is true and bring life to others.  

I pray that you will always know how precious you are; chosen, rejoiced in, treasured. 

I am in absolute wonder at our great GOD who came up with the idea of you, and

I love your amazing, intricate, marvelous little self.

Mommy

Life-on-life

We are so excited to head back to Tanzania in June, Lord willing!  It has been an amazing year of growth and challenge and searching and waiting...
of course, none of it wasted...
and in the meantime (which is when God seems to do most of His heart-work) we have learned much about ourselves and our God.

We left Tanzania with a desire to have more time for discipleship, life-on-life.
We had several options open to us, which quickly narrowed down in our minds to the two we thought were the best fit for us according to our gifts and desires.
We applied to and were accepted with a wonderful mission, SIM.
And in the end we are being sent out through our church again, to partner with another team of missionaries in Tanzania who are committed to discipleship of village churches and people.
We are more than thrilled to work with marriages and families.

In our debrief in CO last year, after talking through our various options, one very wise person said, "Look at what you naturally are drawn to."  That was easy.  Marriage is one thing we are always drawn to, families are what we have a heart for.  We have always been in awe at the way God has put   amazing couples and families in our lives to learn from.  We had thoroughly enjoyed being part of putting children into new families at Mavuno.

People ask what our best preparation for the mission field has been.

That's easy too.

Being discipled by Wayne and Leslie for the years we were in Bozeman before heading out was our greatest preparation.  I'm not talking about casual Bible study together, I'm talking about people who love you enough to get in your face and really challenge you.  I'm talking about people willing to tell you that "you haven't really gotten to the heart of that 2-year-old because he's still disobeying!"  And knowing that they would do anything for you and truly want the absolute best for you.  They are the people we still call when we reach a stalemate and can't figure out for the life of us what to do.  They have been used by God to RADICALLY alter the direction of our lives by their counsel and wisdom.

They were some of the first in a series of people who have taught us what it looks like to be and make disciples. And, of course, the point of discipleship is always to pass it on.

We are so excited to go back with the purpose of doing just that.

II Tim 2:2 "And the things you have heard me say in the presence of many witnesses entrust to reliable people who will be qualified to teach others."

Prove it!

Global Outreach Week at our church just ended (and began, and progressed) with more yummy food.  I love that about America.  No need to plan ahead: there will be food there.  I think we could have saved our grocery money for the entire week!  But that is not the main reason I am blogging! :)

Being with the Body is always a blessing.  Being with the Body and praying together on Monday night, sharing the Word together, being challenged together, hearing what God is doing in the world is energizing and refreshing.

Seeing our faces on our little board display was not as energizing.  I understand the point, I appreciate the idea and I love looking at the other ones, but I battled in my mind with the difference between recognizing and appreciating all God has going on in this world and self-promotion.  I suppose it truly does come down to the heart of each individual.

"Not that we are sufficient in ourselves to claim anything as coming from us..." 

There is this temptation in the missionary world anyways to prove yourself.  Otherwise, why are you going around the world in the first place?  Dave and I have always admired our missionary friends who can give themselves to a hard, unaccepting culture for years at a time without many results.  In our own case, or in my case I should say, my battle is more internal: begging God to help me be wise with my time, careful with my time, and not do things out of a fear of man that I would not otherwise do simply to "prove myself" to someone.

We want to be faithful stewards of time and resources, and we want to stay committed to what God says is important.

Recently we have had these discussions with missionary women who are told to "do more, do more!" a never-ending battle cry from leadership and those in authority over them to sacrifice time with children, if need be, "for the lost."

Since when did the rules change?  Since when did God call us to have a different set of priorities simply because we live in a place where the need is great?

 {The older women} are to teach what is good, and so train the young women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled. Titus 2:4-5

What I love about those verses is not only what is included, but what is NOT included.   

Can we overestimate the value of one life lived in obedience, on those around them?  Whichever way we prioritize, we are discipling someone on how to walk with God. 

 Our goal is to be able to say, "Follow me as I follow Christ."  

Use your time like I use my time.
Love on your kids like I do.
Speak to your husband and children like I am.
Reach out to the poor and needy this way....

Humbling. 

 Impossible.  

Without God's enabling power, absolutely hopeless. 

 With Him, I can do all things.

"...but our sufficiency is from God..." II Cor. 3:5

God, help us make Your priorities ours.  No matter what anyone says.  We trust You that obedience to You will bear more fruit than we could ever muster up in our own methods.  

And now,  my view:

I can still see my feet, on occasion, and only three weeks left!  And while I really can't think of anything better than carrying this little person around, we also can't wait to meet this tiniest Helsby.

His Story

Unashamedly, two of my greatest heroes are my mom and dad.  Especially when I consider their lives and faithfulness.  Everytime I read it I think of them:

Psalm 92:14, "They will still bear fruit in old age; they will stay fresh and green, proclaiming, "The Lord is upright; He is my Rock, and there is no wickedness in Him."

100 bed Hoa Khan Children's Hospital

My mama, she packed two babies on her hips and daddy held the other one, three children two and under, and they boarded a plane for war-torn Vietnam.  Right at the wrong time.  Who wanted to go to Vietnam in 1969? My daddy did, and not without his woman at his side,     to help heal little 

bodies in the name of Christ.  

 

And they stayed for five years, me being born after four and heading back again for one more until God delivered them just in the nick of time.  And my mama, she calls those her "skinny years," the stress of war and uncertainty taking a toll.  And they tell stories of sleeping in their bed with flak jackets on top of us all when the shooting got close, and children coming in with no limbs, the sad product of land mines.  And even though God did get us out three days before Da Nang fell to the North Vietnamese, my daddy still tears up when he talks about those children they had to leave behind in their hospital beds.  My whole life I have heard stories of God's faithfulness and I watched it lived out in my home.  Surely I am a steward of such a past and such a family.

Back to Vietnam after my birth

Headed to Taiwan in 1976

And that doesn't even include the incredible stories of the family I married into, with Dave's grandparents being sustained in a Japanese civilian concentration camp in China while they were

missionaries, his other grandma growing up as a missionary kid in Korea.   And parents who left comfortable small-town Montana to head to the bustling city of Hong Kong.  And all of that to say, we don't go overseas just because that's what our families do, but we have to decide what to do with the abundance that has been poured out on us.  How can we use these small, wispy vapors of lives to the best of our abilities?  How can we pour out what has been poured in, particularly in terms of the people who have discipled us extensively and the examples of Godly Christians that we have been privileged to learn from?

1. Faith of our fathers, we will strive
   To win all nations unto thee;
   And through the truth that comes from God,
   We all shall then be truly free.
2. Faith of our fathers, holy faith!
   We will be true to thee till death.