Gratitude

"And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work. As it is written: 'They have freely scattered their gifts to the poor; their righteousness endures forever.' Now he who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will also supply and increase your store of seed and will enlarge the harvest of your righteousness. You will be enriched in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion, and through us your generosity will result in thanksgiving to God." - 2 Corinthians 9:8-11

 

Wow. We have so many reasons to give thanks. So many people for whom to give thanks. So many blessings...

 

In the eight weeks since we've been stateside we've been in nine different states (some of them multiple times), stayed in nine different homes, driven four different cars and ridden in many others, and had a million reasons to say "thank you."

 

So that's just what we want to do. We want to say "thank you" to all of you who have welcomed us back with open arms. Thank you to those who have opened your homes as we've traveled around from place to place. Thank you for offering us rides to and from events. Thank you to those of you who offered your vehicles for our use while we're here. Thank you for the meals you've served us and the tabs you've picked up. Thank you for inviting us to your churches, small groups, and family gatherings. And thank you for listening, asking questions, and caring.

 

And that's just been the last eight weeks! We can't even begin to thank those of you who have stood with us throughout this journey thus far. Some of you have supported us from the very beginning. Thank you. Thank you if you joined in at any point along the way. Thank you to those who faithfully prayed for us throughout the ups and downs of our first term in Zambia. Thank you for your letters, emails, packages, phone calls, and facebook messages. Thank you. Thank you for being open to the Spirit's guidance to give generously, joyfully and abundantly.

 

As we look at the rest of our home assignment and our return to Zambia next spring, we have and will have many more reasons to give thanks. And as much as we thank each of you for responding to God's leading in your lives, your generosity has resulted in thanksgiving to God. We praise and thank God for each of you. We thank Him for your friendship and for blessing you to be a blessing to others. We thank Him for listening to your prayers to Him on our behalf. Specifically, we thank Him for answering our prayers (and many of your prayers as well) that we would be able to conceive. God is so good!

We thank God for His provision, His comfort and His protection. We thank Him most of all for His grace. Without the death and resurrection of His Son Jesus Christ, we would have no reason to serve, to give, to love - and no reason to give thanks. Thank you Lord that we do.

 

And thank you.

be gentle with me

In exactly four weeks we will be starting our debrief and reentry meetings at SIM USA’s headquarters in Charlotte.  Are we excited? Absolutely.  Are we ready for the break?  I think we’re a few months past ready.  Are we nervous?  You bet.

A lot has changed in 2 ½ years.  I’m sure infrastructures in the States have changed since we left.  Styles have changed.  Kids we knew as toddlers are in school and have little brothers and sisters we haven’t met.  Family members have aged.  And others won’t be there at all anymore. 

And somehow, sometime, unbeknownst to us, we've changed.  Physically. Spiritually. Mentally.  We look in the mirror and see sunspots and wrinkles from a few too many walks through town without sunscreen.  My hair has grown and been bleached by the sun along the way.  Our hands have aged from digging in the dirt and washing dishes and holding the hands of sick friends.  My left shoulder bone has been higher than the right since the car accident last year.

But those changes are just on the surface.  Our hearts have changed.  We've experienced great joy and great pain – sometimes all at once.  We've seen things that will be forever etched in our memories.  We've met people whose lives have humbled us in ways nothing else could. We've planned our ministries, our programs and even our days to have everything change at the drop of a hat.  We've stood for hours in lines only to find out we’re in the wrong place.  We've put up with lewd comments from drunks and constant requests for aid.  Children we've held have died from preventable causes.  Our bodies have experienced illnesses that we still can’t identify.  We've experienced miracles and cried out for miracles that just weren't part of God’s plan.

Our hearts have changed.  You may find us quieter -  more mellow.  In that quiet, we may be praying.  Prayer has become so much more of a lifeline.  After all, praying has been our only option in many situations.  Sometimes tears may come unexplained, and sometimes they won’t be able to come at all.  We may not be able to tell you about it, as sometimes you just have to be there to understand.  Please ask questions anyway.  We may be easily overwhelmed or in need of rest.  We may even seem judgmental or bitter toward life “back home.”  Please forgive us for that. 

There’s an old Jewel song, “I’m Sensitive,” that often gets in my head that says,

“So please be careful with me, I’m sensitive and I’d like to stay that way.”

 

We’re going to be sensitive.  We’re not quite sure how we’ll fit in anymore.  We don’t know if our friends will still like us.  We may look different, act different, talk different.  We may not feel very social.  And sometimes, we may need to be social.  We may call you and ask to hang out or go walking or just keep us company while we sift through our feelings.  Sometimes, we may just want to have a whole lot of fun and temporarily forget all of that heavy stuff that makes us quieter and more mellow and… different.

So please know it’s not you.  It’s us.  Sometimes you might not know what to do with us.  We usually don’t either.  Be gentle.  Be patient.  And if it’s really bad, just smack us on the head and tell us to lighten up.  

We can’t wait to see you. 

and I cried

When I called Mama Yoba at midnight and she told me that a well-trained birthing nurse was able to remove the placenta and that Regina was recovering, I cried.  I cried tears of joy and relief that my dear friend would be okay.  I cried tears of thanksgiving to God for hearing our prayers.  I cried tears of exhaustion.  I told Luke that I think the tears I cried were tears of all the stress and exhaustion of the last two-plus years, finally spilling over.  The dam broke, my strength was gone, and I cried.

I didn't know Regina was pregnant until about a month ago.  We hadn't been together as much and she hid it well.  When she finally told me, she was ashamed, saying it was a mistake and they hadn't been responsible.  It came as quite a surprise, as I had just recommended that another missionary call Regina to speak on purity at a girls’ workshop.  But I assured her I was there for her.  She was my friend.  And of all the Zambians I have come to know and love, Regina is probably the only real, mutual friend – almost a sister.  

Tuesday I decided to walk to Kimasala to visit Regina and Mama Yoba and some of the others out by Lusa.  I arrived to find out that Mama Yoba was in Lusaka and Regina had gone to the hospital Monday afternoon with severe cramping. When I visited Tuesday evening, she had not actually seen a doctor, but was feeling a bit better.  Wednesday afternoon I stopped in again, and she had been discharged – never seeing a doctor, having an ultrasound or anything.  Thursday morning I received a text message from her brother saying she had been sick all night.  I called and she said she wanted to rest a bit, but a couple of hours later she wanted to go to the hospital.  I picked her up, along with her cousin and the baby’s father and we went to a small clinic in town that specialized in ultrasound.  The technician said her amniotic fluid was dangerously low and we should go straight to the hospital.

Back in the overcrowded maternity ward, Regina was given one of the last available beds.  An initial exam determined she was in pre-term labor, and that was that.  There was no medication, no further analysis.  They were just going to let the labor carry on (though only seven months pregnant).  Now most women are completely alone through the labor process.  With 3-6 beds in an area, they lay there in the heat and fight through the contractions quietly and alone, until it’s time to actually give birth (which may be why many women prefer to deliver in their homes).

Visiting hours are very strict: 6-7 a.m. and 5-6 p.m.  I stood by Regina for the first three hours, holding her hand, fanning her with a notebook, praying fervently, and slowly noticing I was the only “visitor” in the area.  At 3 p.m., I went outside to ask her friend and her cousin if one of them would stay with her for a bit while I went to get a bite to eat and put gas in the car (there had been a shortage and I was running on fumes).  They told me they wouldn't be allowed - that I was only allowed because I was white.  I think the one friend made her way at least for some of the time because she was nine months pregnant and could easily pass as a patient.

I returned for 5 p.m. visiting hours, only to find out Regina had gone into the labor room.  This is a room with three beds side-by-side, in which the women lay completely naked through the birthing process.  All the women are expected to bring a sheet of plastic, gloves, and other supplies for use by the hospital.  By 5:20, Regina had given birth to a 3 pound baby girl.  The baby was taken straight to an incubator, but Regina was not in the clear yet.  A group of us waited until 7:00, but Regina had still not delivered the placenta.  One of the older caregivers for Lusa convinced the nurses to allow her to stay, but the rest of us were forced to go.  Mama Yoba was still in transit from Lusaka, and most of the day I was praying she would arrive quickly.  She called me from the bus shortly after I arrived home pleading with me to do something – to tell the nurses they needed to help Regina.  I didn't know what to do.  There was nothing I could do.

And I was so afraid I would lose my friend.  I even told Luke that if something happened to her, I didn't think I could come back to Zambia. I couldn't handle it.

After a hot shower and a few hours of tossing and turning but not sleeping, I called Mama Yoba.  Regina was fine.  Everything was going to be okay.  And I cried.

Thank you Jesus. 

Because He Lives

Every once in a while something pops up that makes us think, “what if?”  A note from a former employer or co-worker, a discussion about some past achievement, the Olympics (I’ll elaborate on that one), or a general feeling that we’re not accomplishing anything here…

What if we had taken a different path? What if we were still in that job?  What if we had continued in certain sports?What if, what if, what if.  Sometimes, it carries a twinge of jealousy or remorse. “I could have been…” or “remember when?...”

It’s like a conversation Luke and I had several years ago during the Olympics when Luke asked me, “Do you ever think that if you had trained a little harder, you could have made it to the Olympics?” – not just in reference to my running, but also to his gymnastics and diving talents.  A sort of, looking back, wondering if we took the right turn in the road.

Yesterday I wandered onto LinkedIn, a networking site I used quite a bit in my “corporate life,” seeking out partnerships and job opportunities, posting open positions, and building expertise in areas of marketing and communications.  I had several “recommended jobs” pop up and jokingly asked Luke if I should apply for a specific job that came up. 

I think it was more to prove I’m capable of such a position than an actual desire to do it. To "live up to my potential." The power, the glory, the accolades….

And then I remember the cross.  And His power. His glory.  I think about Hebrews 9:14 where it says, “How much more, then, will the blood of Christ… cleanse our consciences from acts that lead to death, SO THAT we may serve the living God!”

We serve a living God!A living God who sent His Son to die and on the third day rise from the dead so that we may approach the throne of grace through the righteous perfection of Christ and worship Him and serve Him!

‘"Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will make you fishers of men.” At once they left their nets and followed him.’ – Matthew 4:19-20

I keep trying to pick my nets back up.  Sometimes I think that would be easier.  Or at least a bit more predictable.

And then I think, many of the disciples were trained as fishermen for a reason – maybe to help them become “fishers of men?” So I get all Eric Liddell about running and think that maybe God wants to use that. He does and He has. Not through some Olympic medal, but it was because of running that I went to Bradley, where I first heard God’s call on my life to missions and met Luke.  And through training and persevering and having great coaches and some not-so-great coaches, Luke and I both have a greater understanding and perspective as we equip young men and women here to use sports to share Christ and make disciples.

In the job sphere, perhaps using my writing and marketing to tell people about God’s awesome glory and help share what He’s doing for His kingdom in Zambia is why He gave me that net in the first place. It may not carry the huge paycheck here on earth, but Christ already reserved a treasure for me in Heaven. 

Our call to serve God here is still very clear, and there’s a certain peace (in the midst of turmoil) that comes with being in His will and using our gifts to serve Him.  Yet, we are still so very human and often still think we need affirmation and accolades.  And while waiting to one day hear God say, “well done, my good and faithful servant”  (Matthew 25:21, 23), I believe He sometimes gives us affirmation through creative channels, like this message I found from a former co-worker while browsing LinkedIn yesterday:

“Hey Tiffany – I was driving this morning when my partner called to tell me about a marketing manager role in Dallas. I started telling her about you and said that I would look you up.  Then I saw your profile – WOW! Stand up and applaud! I have said for years that I wanted to have “time” to volunteer and serve.  Something that there never seems to be enough of…. Time. I think that what you are doing is so awesome….. Just wanted to tell you how impressed I am with your courage.  Good luck – sending prayers.”

I’m not posting this so you congratulate us on our work as missionaries.  Often we feel like we can’t possibly be making a difference. Sometimes we yearn for a “normal” life.

Then we think about verses like Luke 9:62 (‘Jesus replied, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.’”) and feel ashamed for even writing about our “what ifs.” But we remember the cross.  We look toward our glorious and living Savior. And worship Him in all His glory and splendor (and none of ours). We serve Him with a clear conscience.  And it’s all worth it.

Because He lives. 

Our God is Greater

Do you ever feel under attack?  Like something or someone is out to thwart and discourage your every effort? As we prepared for our first ever Sports Friends Basic Training in Zambia, we were fairly convinced the devil was doing everything in his power to mess things up, throw us off, and make us give it all up.

But our God is greater. 

This seemed to be a theme over the last several weeks.  Our God is greater.  In fact, several times I found myself singing Chris Tomlin’s chorus…

“Our God us greater, our God is stronger
God you are higher than any other
Our God is healer, awesome in power Our God…
and if our God is for us, then who could ever stop us,
And if our God is with us, then what could stand against?”

(Intermittently, I would sing part of the chorus from an old secular song: 

“Ain't nothing going to break my stride, nobody’s gonna slow me down.
Oh no, I've got to keep on moving….”)

As Luke drove to the airport to pick up our trainers from Ethiopia and the US, I was at home planning meals for the team and about to bake cookies – and our oven almost caught on fire. We stressed.  We worried.  Luke tried to squeeze in a bit of shopping for an oven, and gave up and drove the guys the 10-plus hours to Solwezi.  In the meantime, I found the needed replacement part and was able to fix the oven, feeling more empowered and thankful for God’s provision than I would have had the oven never broken. Our God is greater.

The week before that, we had three subsequent plumbing emergencies that flooded half the house.  Though stressful, we were able to fix the breaks, and praised God they happened when they did, and not with four men sharing one bathroom. Our God is greater.

As we printed training materials for the Basic Training, Luke took everything to a printer three hours drive from our house as he drove to Lusaka, only to find out they were struggling with the cover page.  Though stressful, it was taken care of and we saved $200 on printing by going to them. Our God is greater.

Buying supplies to feed our 46 coaches for the week of training, I quickly learned that there was no mealie meal available in town.  The first shortage in our two-plus years here.  Mealie meal is the base for nshima, the staple food in Zambia.  If you haven’t eaten nshima, you haven’t eaten.  Though we never found a large quantity, and I spent many hours driving around town looking, we found enough small bags over the course of the week to be just enough to feed the participants.  Not more, not less.  Enough.  Our God is greater.

Leading up to the training, we had several days with no rain.  On the morning the participants were set to arrive, the skies opened up and we thought many would delay or not come at all.  As lunch rolled around and we prepared for the first session, the sun came out.  Some did come late, but almost everyone still showed up at the start of the first session.  Our God is greater.

Speaking of rain, we had several of the biggest, loudest, most intense storms over the course of the week.  With indoor training taking part under an aluminum roof, and several sessions of on-field training, that normally wouldn't bode well. Even so, every time the coaches took the field, the sun shone brightly.  Every time the rain and hail pounded the roof so loud we couldn't hear our own voices, it was during meals and break times. Our God is greater.

Sometimes lack of water and electricity wear on our last nerves. We rarely had enough water at home for everyone to shower, and the power seemed to be going off for big chunks each day.  While this usually frustrates us to no end, we were incredibly humbled when the power went off one night just as we prepared to show a video, and the entire room broke into an extensive praise and worship session. (See video – well, listen to the video.  You won’t see much)

Even the last day, as I woke up with a fever, headache, and major congestion, we were grateful I was the one sick and not the trainers.  Even so, the littlest things were tipping me off.  I arrived at the hall with cakes to celebrate the end of the training, and decided to help Mama Yoba (our cook and host for the week) properly shred a cabbage on a mandolin.  Instead, I sliced a huge chunk off the tip of my finger and was bleeding profusely.  Mama Yoba is a certified caregiver and Luke was free at that point and I was able to get to a local village clinic for bandaging and such.  I’m not sure why (maybe because I was busy singing “Our God is Greater”), but after that, I was actually in a better mood than when we started!  We were back in time to watch the coaches perform hilarious skits depicting what they had learned about Church-Centered Sports Ministry, and we are so excited to see Sports Friends take off in Zambia! Our God is greater.

Typing this blog with one finger down is interesting, but hey, at least the power is on! There are so many more examples we could give from the week where Satan tried to trip us up, but...

Our God is so much Greater.

Zambia's first Sports Friends coaches!