You Are Most Welcome

I don't even know where to begin.

So many people have asked me what Zambia is like, and after being here for 3 months, I still feel like I can't do it justice. But perhaps I can give you a few snapshots.

My first full day in Kitwe was a Sunday-- my first time to worship at Riverside Baptist Church. I remember the deacons shaking my hand and telling me, "You are most welcome here. We have been praying for you." I remember Musonda, a university student and now a dear friend, telling me with a grin, "Kayla has told me all about you. We were praying that you would be moved to Zambia and now the Lord has answered."

...

Every Wednesday we have Bible Study with a few young ladies in the township of Ndeke. I will never forget the first week I went with Kayla to the Zulus' home. As soon as I stepped inside, a woman I had never met before greeted me with a hug. "My other daughter has arrived! Alyssa, you are most welcome here! Feel at home. Or, as we like to say, 'feel at house!' " Her contagious laughter told me we were already family. The same laugh echoed by her sister, Cynthia, as she brought in dish after dish that she had prepared for us to eat before Bible Study.

"I already know you, Alyssa-- can I call you Aly?-- and I bet you can guess who I am!" Cynthia said. And before I could tell her that I could guess, she continued on; "We are thankful to God you are here. Now this is your first Zambian meal, isn't it? Let me tell you what everything is." She beamed with approval and amusement as I carefully rolled my nshima in my hand and used it to scoop up some kapenta.

...

A sweet family lives on the same plot as us, and also happens to go to our church: Wezi, Precious, Wezious, and Praise. Don't even get me started on how adorable those names are together. Wezious is not a shy three year old, and by the end of week one I was Auntie Alyssa to her. 

"Auntie Alyssa, come and see!" as she reveals any of a number of treasures she has found to play with.

"Auntie Alyssa, what's deez?" as she points to something she doesn't know how to say in English.

"Auntie Alyssa, look, mah baby!" as she proudly carries her one-year-old sister, whose feet are nearly dragging the ground.

Between her bits of English and my very few Bemba phrases, we get along quite well.

Each of these people has grown to be an important part of my life here, but it's not just friends and church family who have welcomed me. Everywhere I go, Zambians flash their brilliant smiles and extend the same warm greeting. Everywhere I go, strangers become friends. The guy who weighs produce at the grocery store. The girl who works at the gelato shop. The man at the post office who deals with international packages. 

Even the Zamtel workers, who we complained to every week until our internet was fixed, weren't deterred by our American impatience. "Kayla and Alyssa, welcome! Have you learned any more Bemba? Do you remember the words I taught you?" our friend Benjamin says as he launches into an impromptu language lesson which lasts far longer than our customer service inquiry.

That is what Zambia is like. It's not a complete picture, but maybe the most vivid part to me right now. Some days I am struck with the pride I brought with me when I traveled to this side of the globe. I thought I was coming here to teach something, but far more often I feel like I am the one who has something to learn. The precedence relationships should take. The art of making others at home. One more way of being the hands and feet of Christ. 

Seeds and Suitcases

I lived in Botswana for four months in a sweet little apartment. On my back patio, I had a small plot of ground that would have been perfect for a garden. I thought about planting a garden, talked a lot about planting a garden, looked at seeds for a planting a garden, enlisted help for planting my garden. But always in the back of my head was the thought, "It's not worth planting seeds. I'll have to break up this hard ground, find out what kind of plants will grow best and when the right time is to plant here, and water them constantly. I don't even know how long I'm going to be here. I will do all that work and then by the time the plants grow, I will be in Zimbabwe (ha!). I won't get to eat any of the fruits or vegetables I planted."

So I didn't. I didn't plant a garden and I didn't have any fruit. Due to the temporary nature of my stay in Botswana, I felt the tension between putting down roots and numbering my days, never unpacking my last suitcase.

And maybe I was justified with the suitcase thing, because then I was transferred to Zambia.

Zambia is a lush, green, beautiful country. In our yard we have a big garden, as well as many fruit trees. My favorite is the avocado tree… unlimited supply of fresh, free, organic avocados = happiness. But there is one problem with that tree. It produces avocados in abundance, but the tree is so tall that it is impossible to pick the ones from the top. They hang there until they rot or fall off, and we don't get to enjoy them. Kayla has witnessed my frustration over this predicament many times and laughed as I have tried to climb the tree and beat them off with a stick. Not effective, in case you were wondering.

I don't know much about agriculture, but I will say that in these two countries where I have ministered, there are spiritual parallels to the land I have just described. They are very different places with very different needs. Looking back at my time and Botswana, I hope and pray that I was more effective in planting seeds spiritually than I was with my nonexistent garden. And looking forward upon the mere 13 months I have left in Zambia, I pray that I will be more effective in harvesting than I am in knocking avocados off my tree. Because the fields here are ready for harvest. Oh, they are so ready. 

Every day I am amazed by my precious Zambian friends and fellow believers who have such big dreams of advancing the kingdom. They are a great an encouragement to me, yet at the same time I feel so inadequate. How can I help them seek the Lord's direction? How can I encourage them to obedience? How can I help mobilize them?

It has taken some time for me to realize, but the Word of God addresses all these questions and more than makes up for my deficiencies of knowledge in planting, watering, and harvesting.

He says we should ask him to send out more workers into the harvest. (Matt 9:38) 

He says that if we sow abundantly, we will reap abundantly… sow sparingly and you will reap sparingly. (2 Corinthians 9:6)

And perhaps most relieving (or most humbling) is the truth that those of us who plant and those who water are nothing, but only God, who makes things grow. (1 Corinthians 3:7)

I don't have to have all the answers. Yes, I am called to be faithful in planting seeds. Yes, I will do everything I can to nurture those plants and see them produce fruit. But it is the Lord of the harvest who makes things grow, who carries to completion the good work he begins in each one's life.

Hello Goodbye: Life of a Sojourner

If you missed my last newsletter,  last week I found out the board wanted to send me to Zambia to do university ministry with my friend Kayla. Now don't get me wrong; I am genuinely thrilled to work with Kayla and to be a part of what God is doing in Zambia. But when I first got this news, I cried. Botswana has become a home to me-- this place where I didn't plan to come and didn't realize how much I would grow to love. 

There are so many things I will miss about my life here. 

Dinner with the Warners being narrated by Riley's princess voice. Walking into the Pettigrews' coffee-shop-home and feeling peace. Hearing Andrew lead Jo Na Na. My feisty little preschool friend, Mamoinye, who elbows her way through the crowd at church shouting "That's MY Lekgowa (white person)!"  Gelato at Sanita's when I just need a break. Lunch dates with Gofaone. Noma's sweet laugh. Kasey and Allison's big ideas and compassionate hearts. Having the Mascom menu memorized and knowing when I can get freebie airtime. Doing laundry in my washer/shower contraption. Finally knowing where to buy tortillas. Lilli and Elliot's fascination with my earring collection. My bare-walled apartment that has hosted its share of sleepovers. Mastering pulling out of my supervisor's steep driveway with a narrow gate (well… almost…). Rhett, Ridge, and Reid's spot-on Setswana accents. Knowing which combi goes to church, and which one to Airport Junction. Learning enough language that I can claim, "Ke Motswana!" and people laugh and agree with me. 

Now, I will concede that gelato and free airtime are not very spiritual. But all these little things collectively have made this place feel like home. But then I started to ask myself, as I did when I was preparing to move to Zimbabwe, "where is home?" 

My home is in heaven with the Lord. And this week He reminded me of that through a verse I read, "Hear my prayer, O LORD, and give ear to my cry; hold not your peace at my tears! For I am a sojourner with you, a guest, like all my fathers." (Psalm 39:12)

I am a sojourner, but I don't go alone. I am a sojourner with the Lord. And that fills me with JOY. I am so excited to see what he has in store for me on this next part of the journey!

"Even Me"

I have a dear friend here named Noma. One of the many things I love about her is that she finds it hilarious when I try to speak Setswana. She will imitate MY imitation of a Motswana, and I find THAT hilarious.

There is one phrase in particular that is our favorite. To show agreement, Tswana people will say "even me," much in the same way an American would say "me too." This is how it works…

Noma: I am so excited to eat dinner at Laura's tonight!

Alyssa: Even me. I can't wait!

Now according to Noma, I WAY overuse the expression. But I can't help it; I love saying it. Something about that phrase shows humility, a quality that is undervalued by the world but of great importance in God's eyes. If you ever need a dose of humility, nothing does the job quite like living in a foreign country. Sure, I expected to have to ask lots of questions about culturally appropriate behavior, and it doesn't surprise me when my attempts at Setswana are laughed at. What I didn't expect was to be convicted and challenged so often by local believers… university students near my age who are just so passionate about the Lord. 

I'm the missionary here, my pride screams, I'm supposed to be the one challenging and encouraging them! But every time we study scripture together, I identify with their struggles and their desire to follow Christ, and their words pierce my heart:

"I know the Bible says that our hope in Christ makes us very bold, but sometimes it's difficult because I am shy." 

Even me.

"I think I am not a very good Christian. I have friends that I have known for a long time and I haven't shared the gospel with them." 

Even me.

"Sometimes in discipleship I get frustrated with people, because its easy to forget that I am also a work in progress."

Even me. 

Even this young missionary girl doesn't have all the answers, isn't always patient with people, and doesn't always recognize opportunities the Lord puts in my path. Some people think missionaries are holier, bolder, or more gifted than the rest of the church. Or that crossing the ocean in a plane makes you suddenly mature in your faith. Maybe I used to think that too. But these days I find myself identifying with Paul:

"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." Philippians 3:12-14

Missionaries, pastors, church members and unbelievers alike have no ability to transform their own lives. But praise be to the God who is faithful to work in the lives of all who surrender to Him! 

Even me. 

Jesus Wins: Week in review 4/13

"Africa wins." 

It's an expression my friends and I use when struggling through the ridiculous or frustrating situations of day to day life here that no one can possibly prepare you for. Like when a lizard falls in my hair as I'm focused on killing a deadly spider. 

Africa wins when our waitress refuses to put ice in my friend's chai latte, because that's not on the menu.

 

Africa wins when my electric bill is haphazardly folded and stuck in my gate and no one knows where I should go to pay it. (Logically, the office happens to be inside the Nissan dealership, which only took an hour of asking locals to discover). 

Africa wins when you order corn on the cob and get this:

Africa wins when my trusty GPS tells me to turn from "Road" onto "Off Road" during a 45 minute tour of Gaborone in search of a destination that is only 5 minutes from my house.

Africa wins when the waitress intentionally cuts off the wifi because I have finished my coffee and exceeded my complimentary 30 minutes of internet access in an empty cafe.  

Now to tell you the truth, most of these adventures were far more comical than frustrating. But, on rare occasion, there are times when I do feel defeated. Not because of large insects or driving in unfamiliar territory, but because of vast spiritual darkness and indifference to the gospel. I know that Christ has victory in the end, but sometimes it feels like the enemy is gloating today.

This week, however, was not one of those times. I SAW his victory this week.

Jesus wins when national believers are convicted they need to be sharing the gospel with their friends.

Jesus wins when five university students stay to listen to three crazy missionary girls sharing the gospel although their friends laugh and try to talk them into leaving. 

Jesus wins when a nonbeliever rearranges her schedule to come and study the Bible with us because she is missing something in her life. 

Jesus wins when power cuts don't stop fellow believers from squeezing together in a small dorm room for a time of fellowship and fervent prayer that, in my mind, must strongly resemble the Acts 2 church. 

Praying that the Lord opens my eyes to be able to recognize his victory every single day. 

My Place!

"Have you seen any elephants?"

"Are you in a mud hut?"

"How do you cook food?"

Due to several interesting questions I have received about Botswana and my living conditions I have decided to post a few pictures that will hopefully answer those and any other questions you may have :)

Kitchen

Looking out my kitchen into servant's quarters (and no, I do not have servants...)

Living room

Bedroom

Guest bedroom... come and visit me!

A week in review: March 23

Small victories of the week:

Buying these items at the grocery store. Black beans: because they are a rare commodity here, which is a sad thing for this Mexican food lover! I was piling them into my cart like it was Black Friday and probably looked pretty ridiculous. American measuring cup: because baking just got a whole lot easier…

Big victories of the week:

Continuing to see God's faithfulness in the same way I saw it in Letlhakane. He put it on my heart to strike up a conversation with a couple girls at UB, and it turned out they were very receptive to the gospel. They are actually high school grads who will be freshmen in the fall,  which opens the door for some exciting things I will share about soon!