Two homecomings in as many weeks

I’m back in home in Zambia after a whistle stop trip to the UK because I made a promise. Thank you to every single one of you who made this short trip so sweet (and really, you all ought to thank Laura and Terence for getting married- it was a beautiful day guys, thank you so much for letting me be a part of it!)

I’m overwhelmed by support from people who I’ve been terrible at keeping in contact with, who welcomed me back with open arms. I’m reminded once again that I really couldn’t do what I do without all of you wonderful people supporting me and faithfully lifting me up in prayer. I don’t have enough words to express how much that means, and I’m going to endeavour to be in touch more frequently!

Thank you to each of you who asked me about Hands and took an interest. Thank you for standing with me and wanting to be a part of something so much bigger- thank you for wanting to see Jesus move and bring transformational healing across Zambia and the other countries Hands works in. We’re one church, one family, one body. It’s just as much the responsibility of the church outside Africa as the local church. 

I’m humbled by how many of you wanted to just sit and ask me questions about what my life looks like here in Zambia, and how God has been changing my story as I work with Hands. Because it’s true; transformation has to start with us. And I’m really pleased that I’m not the same person that left the UK to embark on an adventure in February. 

A few of the lovely people on my intake and the one before have been sharing thoughts on the journeys we’ve been on; check it here

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As this song is one of my favourites at the moment, I thought I’d share the lyrics, mostly because it’s pretty wonderful, but also because it’s far more eloquent than I could ever be!

Finally Free- Rend Collective

Your mercy rains from heaven

Like confetti at a wedding

And I am celebrating

In the downpour

Your heart is wild with colour

Like a never-ending summer

You burn away the winter

Of my cold and weary heart

My soul cries out holy, holy

My heart is lost in Your beauty

All hope is found in Your mercy

You paid the price now I am

Finally free

Your grace, oh God's the anchor

That's holding me forever

Come trouble or high water

I am steadfast

Yeah, you lift me when I'm sinking

Like the swell of mighty oceans

The power of redemption

Yeah, it gives me wings to soar

My soul cries out holy, holy

My heart is lost in Your beauty

All hope is found in Your mercy

You paid the price now I am

Finally free

We'll cast our crowns before Him

Like the rusting leaves of autumn

Now every chain lies broken

And finally we're free

My soul cries out holy, holy

My heart is lost in Your beauty

All hope is found in Your mercy

You paid the price now I am

Finally free

Now imagine singing it in a beautiful little country church at the wedding of some of your favourite people :) 

Whilst it’s never going to be easy leaving the UK, I have the incredible privilege of coming home. It’s a beautiful thing when you get to create little pieces of home across the globe! 

Until next time, England!

Where is your comfort?

I can’t quite believe that I’ve been in Zambia for almost two months. Time does strange things here; it’s flown by, but at the same time it feels like forever ago that I was in South Africa.

I’ve been thrown out of my comfort zone yet again, and had the opportunity to serve this community in ways that I certainly didn’t see coming when I touched down in Ndola.

Here at Kachele, we’ve just finished a three week period of prayer and fasting. It’s been an incredible time of coming together as a community and humbling ourselves before our heavenly Father.

I don’t even really know where to start with what God has been teaching me over the last month, but I’m going to try, because it’s important. So I’m just going to ask that you’ll have grace with me as I try to express it in my clumsy, awkward words.

I started off the period expecting that God would move in my life, and the lives of those I live with and love dearly. And if the testimonies that have come out since are anything to go by, He certainly did. Over and above anything we could have dared to dream.

There’s a beautiful scripture in Jeremiah 33 that says if you call on the Lord, He will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things. Not that He might, or He’ll answer you if He feels like it, but He will. All you have to do is cry out. Our heavenly Father is just waiting for His kids to speak out. I’ve been floored again by how incredible that promise is. That tiny, insignificant me has the audience of the Creator of the Universe, and He’s concerned about the little things that are bothering me.

God has been challenging me about love, and where my comfort is. There are so many times over the past few weeks that I could have been overwhelmed. But time and again I’ve been reminded of how much I need God’s grace to pick me up when I fall down and to gently remind me that He is my safe place, my comfort, my home. I think it’s Spurgeon that said you only truly know that God is all you need, when God is all you have.

I read this beautiful piece by Henri Nowen, about the shift from solitude to community to ministry. He makes this incredibly eloquent argument that it is only when we truly embrace our identity as God’s beloved child that we find peace and comfort. We finally can forgive those who weren’t able to love us as we needed them to, and to forgive ourselves for the times when we couldn’t love others as we would have wanted.

As Christians, almost all of us are going to be familiar with 1 Corinthians 13:4-8. You’ve probably heard it at a wedding at some point. It says “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.” But how often do we stop to think about what this kind of love actually looks like? It’s the kind of love that lifts you out of the darkest places, that gently shines a light on those things you’d rather were hidden. That says ‘I want what is best for you, even if it’s going to cost me’. The kind of love that God has for his children. And the kind of love we’re called as his children to strive for in our own lives. So I’m trying, and I’m very aware of how often I fall short of loving like that, even when I so desperately want to. But in the meantime, as God calls me out into the great unknown, He is speaking gently to me and restoring what has been broken.

It's about that time again. Time to let you all know where I am, and what I’m doing. To be perfectly honest, I don’t always feel like I have the answers to those questions. Not in a way that I know how to verbalize, or explain to people so far removed from where I currently find myself. People who have faithfully supported me, prayed for me and loved me through every season.

So I made it safely to Zambia. I’m living on a beautiful property, near Luanshya, with a handful of other international volunteers and some incredible local Zambian leaders. I have the privilege of doing life with a wonderful group of people who I’m constantly learning from.

Because I’ve only been here for just over a week, I’m still getting a grasp on what my role is going to be within the Zambia RST. I could tell you about the five Service Centres we support; three in Zambia, one in DRC and one in Malawi. But that wouldn’t really get closer to what I’m doing or why any of us are here with Hands.

Instead, if you’ll let me, I want to draw your focus closer. Closer to the rust-coloured earth of the Copperbelt. I want to transport you to a small community tucked away behind Kitwe, a bustling market town. A community whose name in Bemba means ‘Welcome’. The first community I visited in Zambia.

I want to introduce you to a small community school meeting in the Community Hall. A school filled with the most vulnerable children of the community; children who but for the work of the CBO wouldn’t receive any kind of education. I want you to sit on the dusty floor, and listen to the teachers as they help prepare these children to try and enter the government school programme. To comfort those who cry because they’re ashamed they can’t read and write like some of their peers. But most of all, I want to introduce you to the little boy called Jack* who sidled up next to me and put his head on my lap because he missed his mother.  Because I don’t have the words to explain the depths of heartache, or the devastating brokenness that surrounds our children.

But I also want you to understand the incredible difference that our Care Workers are making. Without them, children like Jack wouldn’t be known by name or have someone to share their challenges and celebrate when they get a good score on a test in class. These Care Workers provide a parental figure, a point of stability and safety; something that so many of us take for granted.

At the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter what my title is here, or what my 9-5 schedule looks like. Those aren’t the things that are important in the grand scheme of why I’m here in Zambia. Because as far as I can see, I’m here to serve. In whatever capacity, and however I can. Whether that means helping to take minutes in a meeting, drafting agreements or getting to know the people I live with so I can better support them, it’s all worthwhile. And in this beautiful, Kingdom-cultured community, it’s about who I am, as a child of God, and not about what I can do.

*Names have been changed

P.S. This is where I live now; how incredible is that?

See you on the other side.

See you on the other side.

I seem to have a habit of blogging in airports. Maybe it's because the next part of my adventure is tangible- my bags are checked and my boarding card is sitting next to my coffee (black with honey in case you were wondering)- but I seem to do some of my best thinking in departure lounges. Go figure.

Today I leave South Africa to go join the Hands family in Zambia. It's so much more real in black and white. I'm beyond excited to start this new chapter, to work alongside some incredible people that I haven't yet had the privilege of meeting, and reconnecting with old friends and sisters.

But none of that excitement detracts from the large piece of my heart I'm leaving in a community of beautiful hands and feet tucked behind a mountain in Mpumalanga. Because I found a home and a family there, and for that I'll be eternally grateful. I'm thankful for four and five year olds who want to tell me about their days, and families who have allowed me to do life with them. I'm thankful for fishing trips and barbecues, and a team of people that let me invade their office and pester them with heaps of questions. I'm thankful for the person that I'm becoming because I've had the privilege of knowing each one of you at the Hub. But most of all, I'm thankful that I have a Heavenly Father that saw all of this coming before I was even born. That brought me to South Africa for a time such as this, and continues to lead and guide my steps. A Father who cares about the details of my life- from orchestrating this whole adventure to providing a porter this morning who advocated for me and got me out of any baggage charges. Isn't God good, hey?

So the next time you all hear from me, I'll be in Zambia. And I can't wait to tell you all about it.

Musings from Malawi

Hi lovely people! Two blog posts in as many days; aren't you lucky eh? So I mentioned before that I've spent the last month with Heather. I mean like every waking moment; we live together, work together and hang out together. It's just as well we're like two peas in a pod. We're at the point where she now loves Miranda, and we know exactly what each other are thinking. So in many ways, my stories of Malawi are hers too. We figured the best way to give you the bigger picture of our time here in Dedza was to co-author a post, filling you in on some of the little things that have made our time in Malawi so special. Hope you enjoy it :) 

It's God's attention to the little things that's really making me realize how great He is. And it's funny how your perspective on daily life changes when you no longer take for granted a full jar of peanut butter or a loaf of bread in the house or feet that can walk for miles. It's in the little details like these that I am finding reason to thank God where I have failed so often before.

I'm thankful for callouses and blisters on my feet - it means that I've been so privileged in walking to homes made of mud and straw and visited with some of the most vulnerable people on earth. And it means that I am healthy and capable of walking for hours at a time.

I'm thankful for peanut butter - along with eggs, it's our only source of protein and it goes with anything - in Malawi it goes with everything. Considering the amount of PB and white bread we eat, I'm happy that I can still be thankful for it. I know my sisters would fit right in here. It's a staple for Malawians and Africans in general. And. So. Yummy.

I'm thankful for Skype and FaceTime - I didn't realize how helpful technology was until Skype or FaceTime wasn't working for me since leaving South Africa. Because of the lack of face to face communication with my family, I missed them a lot! But seeing them last Sunday was amazing. I even woke them up - ahhh I hope they were as excited as me ;) oops. We're not morning people.

I'm thankful for hot running water - after having no hot water for a shower, it sure is a blessing! Also hand washing clothes on a chilly morning is wonderful with warm water.

I'm thankful for the gift of a smile - Realizing that when you smile at a child, they may not ever be smiled at. And when you see a hesitant little smile escape their lips, the joy is indescribable. Sometimes the only way to bless a child is through a smile, and I pray that something that insignificant can bless them.

I'm thankful for humor and laughter - God cares so much that he created laughter. It is such a stress reliever! And we've had more than our share of laughs happen to us. Some are mentionable, others not. But needless to say, Charlotte and I are both pretty good at bringing about embarrassing, socially unacceptable situations; we've had to cover for each other several times. And I laugh a lot. Maybe too much.

I'm thankful for bobby pins - to pin back those stray hairs that seem to find their way out of my ponytail on a windy day, but they're most useful for pinning up those annoying little holes that occur in mosquito nets. That's currently where the majority of my bobby pins are.

I'm thankful for stars - Even star-gazing up north out on the dock doesn't compare to the stars out here on a community stay. When there's no electricity for miles and no light pollution, the stars are stunning. They remind me of the promise that God made to Abraham that his children would be as many as the stars in the heavens. I doubt I would've believed God if I were in Abraham's position - it sure required a lot of faith!

I'm thankful for colourful chitenges - well, I love anything that is brightly coloured, but a polka dotted chitenge?! Irresistible really. Yep I'm technically an adult but I don't feel like one. (A chitenge is a big, patterned piece of material that you wrap around you as a skirt or even dress - for me it would be a skirt but I stand a head taller than most Malawians). They're pretty much a patterned piece of fun-ness. And very practical. 

Besides all the these and so many others, I'm thankful for a God who knows me better than I know myself, and cares for me infinitely more than I can imagine. I'm thankful that I don't know where my life is headed but that He's got it perfectly mapped out. He knows that I need Him more and more each day, and He is teaching me more and more that this life is not about me - I'm just a tool in His mighty kingdom.

With only a few days left in Malawi, I'm realizing the attachment I've made with this country. Charlotte and I have had three incredible opportunities to stay in different communities throughout the Central Region of Malawi, and even had the chance to see Lake Malawi last weekend - which is stunning by the way. Charlotte and I have both been amazed with the hospitality and love we've felt in each community we've visited, and also the one we're staying in. We're blessed to have had this opportunity.

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~ The rest of this post is co-authored by the lovely Charlotte Henderson ~

Like I've said, my perspective has changed a lot since being here, and it's amazing finding joy in the little things. We've also had more adventures jam packed in these few weeks than I could've ever imagined. Charlotte and I have kept a running tab on things that have struck us as ironically normal or hysterically funny or just downright adventurous. Some are as follows:

-Since we're the only two azungu in our village and we haven't come across any outside of our village, we're definitely the minority. When we went for a weekend to Lake Malawi, we were asked by an touristy Asian husband if his wife could have a picture with us on the beach. Well that was a first. It's how we get all the boys ;)

-Bicycle taxis are literally everywhere, but the boy riding his bike while carrying a goat took it to the next level.

-We were asked if mermaids are real - by someone that probably should've known better, and was not a child.

-To explain the degree of kindness in Malawi, here is a classic example. Being told by our driver that upon speeding and receiving a ticket didn't have enough money so the police paid the remainder of his ticket for him.

-After days of bucket baths, it's a luxury to come home and take a hot shower. Until the drain doesn't work. Since the shower is literally a room, the water seeped under the door and proceeded to flood the entire house. And then we had a visitor - the landlord. Oops.

-Not being allowed to swim in the lake after 5pm because that's when the hippos come out to feed. I'd rather not be their dinner.

-We may or may not have crashed a fancy Malawian wedding wearing our swimsuits.

-Wearing our food rather than eating it because the outdoor "5-star" restaurant felt like a tornado was coming through.

-Everyone in our community thinking we're Chinese and greeting us with "hello Ching Chong" as their perfectly normal English greeting.

-Being walked home by my new best friend who thinks he's gonna marry me, and still thinks so... I thought I turned down that proposal but try convincing him of that.

-Being spotted by a tiny little girl who clearly had never seen an azungu - I've never heard someone scream in such sheer terror as her. Poor little darling. We are pretty odd looking I suppose, and slightly glow-in-the-dark.

-A group proposal while on Holy Home Visits, just one instance of many.

-Riding 3 adults on a glorified dirtbike-called-motorcycle while the driver is on the phone is normal right? Should I mention no helmets and the "roads" should barely qualify as footpaths? Should I also mention that it's a pretty common method of transportation for us and that this wasn't a one-time occurrence?

-Eating entire fish - every single part of it. No extra comment needed.

-"Preaching" to a lovely gogo, only to find out she is a respected pastor in her community and runs her own church. Charlotte nearly died of embarrassment.

- Finding myself sitting on an ant nest, not realizing until half an hour later when I kept feeling tiny pricks of pain throughout my entire body that they were biting ants. Lesson learned.

-When you twist your ankle and can't walk, the appropriate thing to do is yank on it in ways and directions that I didn't think we're possible and walking it off until it feels better. That's when you just suck it up and try your best not to limp.

-Riding in a taxi that needs to be jump started to get going and can hardly climb the hilly roads - not a person on that jam packed 15+ passenger minibus was phased. It is wonderfully inexpensive though.

-We have the most wonderful watchman who loves to practice his English with us. We made him pancakes for breakfast yesterday and his compliment to us was "My abdomen is filled with wonder." It was the BEST compliment either of us have ever received.

-Having possibly the best opportunity of our month - making lunch for the heroes of Africa - our amazing careworkers.

Having things like these happen to us is a daily occurrence, and we hope that you have a better picture of what life has been for us in Malawi. 

Much love,

-Heather and Charlotte

Today is a pancake-breakfast, dancing-round-the-kitchen-in-pyjamas-to-Chicken-Fried kinda Friday. 

It's our last Friday in Malawi and a Public Holiday too. This month has flown by, and has been filled with all kinds of challenges and adventures, and plenty of motorbike rides through the mountains. For those of you who know what I'm like, I haven't fallen off once. I've been working with Heather, one of the loveliest Canadians I've ever met and the wonderful Service Centre team here in Dedza up near the Mozambique border. 

I can see now why Malawi is the warm heart of Africa; I've been completely floored by the kindness of those we've met, both here in the Service Centre and in the communities Hands is working in here in Malawi. Heather and I have had the privilege of staying in three of the four communities, living with care workers and getting a better understanding of what life in rural Malawi is like for the people we're serving. 

With that in mind, I'd love to share with you the story of one little girl I met in Mcheneke this week. Ava* is a beautiful little five year old girl, with an eleven year old brother who dotes on her. They live with their Gogo, who took them in when their mother died three days after giving birth to Ava. With no income or way to support two very young children, Gogo went into the fields looking for piecework to buy baby formula. She went to the local hospital to ask them for help and support, and was directed towards Umodzi CBO, the community based organisation that Hands partners with in Mcheneke. Whilst both children have been enrolled for the past four years, and therefore receive a hot meal at the Care Point every day, as well as essentials like mosquito nets, soap and school uniforms, life is far from easy for the family. 

Because they have little to no income, Gogo was unable to purchase fertiliser which means that they have no maize to harvest this season. We're approaching winter in Malawi, and this lovely family are living in one room, with a tiny sheltered kitchen and no front door. They did have a house, but were kicked out by the landlord and are now forced to live in a room the same size as a garden shed, with no security or protection. 

As hopeless as this all sounds, things are slowly changing. Both children are in education, as school is free up to the end of Grade 8 in Malawi.  Ava and her brother not only have the love and support of their Gogo, but a team of care workers at Umodzi that visit them and support their family. As I've mentioned before, these care workers are the real heroes. They serve the most vulnerable in their community, having come from very similar situations themselves. 

I've also been astounded at the way that men here in Malawi step up to meet the needs of their communities. I'm a part of the most fatherless generation there has ever been, due to a variety of reasons. We see that in communities in South Africa too, where men are either completely absent or causing trouble. Malawi couldn't be further from this though. In every community I've visited here, I've been met by men who care about what's happening to the children in their local community and actively seek to protect the most vulnerable. I'm reminded that not all men give up on their families or fail to protect them or provide stability for them. Men are stepping up to run the CBOs we work with, and to visit children as teachers and care workers. I can't express how incredibly exciting that is to see. Because these children are growing up with a whole cohort of incredible father figures who can point them towards their Heavenly Father, the One who holds their future and will never let them down. 

I'm headed back to South Africa next week, and although I'm so incredibly excited to see my Hands family, I know I'll miss Malawi. The communities and the people here will always have a special place in my heart. I'm hoping to be able to share some more stories of the people I've met here, so watch this space :)

Much love from Dedza x

P.S. You should check out Heather's version of events :) you can find her at  heathermariainafrica.blogspot.ca

*names have been changed to protect the identity of the family

I want to start this post with a little apology; I’ve been at Hands at Work in South Africa for a couple of weeks now, and I know that I haven’t exactly been forthcoming with information about where I’ve been or what I’ve been up to. 

Right now, I’m about to start week three of the five-week orientation programme here in White River, Mpumalanga, living in community with other international volunteers. I’ve been incredibly blessed with a wonderful intake of volunteers who every day encourage me, challenge my perceptions and push my capacity. And I’m loving it. 

I’m so aware that it’s incredibly bizarre to write this, but being here, living with people from every kind of culture and background, halfway across the globe from most of you reading this, I feel like I’m finally home. I get to wake up every morning knowing that I’m exactly where God wants me to be; I’m back in the place I’d been so homesick for. 

That’s not to say that orientation isn’t without it’s challenges. In between sessions about the core values of Hands and the ways in which Hands as a whole operates, we’ve spent several days in communities around this part of South Africa; driving as far as two hours each way to places like Welverdiend and Share. 

It’s in these communities that we once again remember why we’re here; to serve the most vulnerable and support the local church in fulfilling their Biblical mandate of caring for the orphan and the widow, speaking up for those who can’t do so themselves. I’ve had the privilege of sitting in homes belonging to sixteen year olds caring for their siblings and getting to hear their stories of braving Kruger National Park to escape from hardship and unrest in Mozambique, and walking through the communities they’re living in with care workers that frequently share the same life experiences. 

In some respects, it’s easy to romanticise certain parts of life in these communities; the simplicity and reliance on the earth. But often, that hides all kinds of hardships that seem so far removed from the comfortable existence that I, for one, am acclimated to. The people I’ve met, whose names I’ve learned and stories I’ve listened to, are in very real danger of running out of food if we don’t get more rain. That’s just one very visible problem; the more stories I hear, the more I am reminded that there is so much need that transcends physical poverty. And it’s so hard; there’s such an urge to do- to find some kind of practical solution- but in the cases of many of the people I’ve met, a physical solution (if one were to be found) wouldn’t really solve their problems but maybe alleviate some of the symptoms. 

But in all of this, there is still hope. There are care workers who come from local churches and see the needs of the vulnerable people in their own communities. These are people who, despite their own hurts and brokenness, choose to reach out to the next generation of children like themselves. People who in the midst of their own busy lives, raising their own families, choose to care for the lonely and the vulnerable; to bring Jesus into their situations. Because without Jesus, to be really brutally honest, there isn’t a lot of hope. It’s through Jesus that reconciliation happens in these communities, and that so many of these children find a hope for the future. 

Whilst our need and our brokenness may look so very different from the children I’ve met recently, the solution is still the same. Jesus is the one that we so desperately need in our homes and our communities, to bring hope and peace and reconciliation to a world filled with so much injustice and pain. 

With all of that in mind, there are some things that I would love you all to be praying for;

• for safety in travelling. Driving here isn’t always as straightforward as we might hope- although we’ve seen a couple of nasty accidents and roadblocks, we’ve been incredibly blessed with travelling mercies so far but it’s not something we take for granted.
• for the February intake that I’m a part of. I’ve been blessed with an incredible family from all over the world, and everyone has a very different story that has brought them to serve at Hands. Pray that we would continue to be united as an intake, and that we would all settle into the wider Hands family.
• that God would position me exactly where He wants me. After orientation, I have no idea where I’ll be, or what I’ll be doing, which I find incredibly exciting. Please pray that He would direct and guide me, as He’s done already.

Thank you so much for reading this, and supporting me so far in this journey.

The beginning of the next chapter...

I know it's been a really long time since I've updated on here about my journey to serve with Hands at Work., but 2015 so far has been all sorts of hectic. I've made it to Johannesburg, and I'm spending the weekend catching up with friends I haven't seen in over a year and a half, which is just lovely. Now that I've washed all the airplane grime off that comes with red-eye flights, I just wanted to take a second to share with you all a few musings I had in the airport last night:

'So I'm sitting at the departure gate and my heart is in my throat. I've said goodbye to some of my favourite people in the whole world and right now I don't really know how to cope with that. I'm so incredibly excited for what happens as soon as I get off the plane in Johannesburg, but I don't think I ever realised how hard it would be to let my family go. It's funny, at any point over the last six months I could have said that I give in, that going to South Africa would be too hard. I even had that opportunity today, when instead of crying like a normal person, my body decided to go into a semi-migraine; dizziness, vomiting, the works. I could have turned around and said 'This far God, but no further; it's too hard.' Because in all honesty, this is by far the scariest thing I've ever chosen to do.

But the thing is, it's where I am weakest that He is strongest. I never asked for an easy ride, or a safe life. I asked Him for an adventure, and that's certainly what I'm getting. I have no idea what my life is going to look like over the next few months, and I'm actually really excited about that.'

I'm hoping that as you read this blog, you stick with me on this incredible adventure. Because I have no idea what God's going to do next, but I know that it's going to be greater than anything I could have imagined for myself.