Grace Abounds: An African Love Story Part 1

As I sit here writing this and preparing for the journey of a lifetime I cant help but look back on the steps that have been taken to get to this place in time. Steps that have seemed ordained and planned, steps that have led to anger, tears, stress, frustrations and above all else, a joy and peace that can only come from knowing that one is in the will of the Most High. I can see the culmination of two and a half years of God working and chipping away at the edges of my heart preparing me for the work He picked out for me in the time before time, a plan that is both exciting and somewhat nerve-racking, though the excitement greatly surpasses the nervousness in this instance. I cant help but think and see how it has all led to this, and how it all stirred within my heart a passion for a people, a place, a continent that holds extraordinary wonders and beauty; a passion that has driven me to giving five months of time to the people of Rwanda. A passion that came from God and was molded and shaped into a love, a love for Africa.

It all began in the early months of 2011. It was in February of that year that my father would take his first trip to Africa and come back forever changed. Now before I can write any further there are some things that one needs to know about my father to understand the complete change that occurred and the magnificence of said change. Growing up my dad was a man of few words and even fewer emotions. He was a police officer in the city of Springfield Missouri as well as a Navy Reservist and anyone who knows anything about being in a Police Family knows that the experience can be a hardening one for the individual on the force. My father, having seen the fraud, theft, and underbelly of society and having heard all the lies that come from the people he interacted with, one could see how his heart would become a guarded one in which punishment was the solution to nearly every problem. Love was not an emotion shown and tears of any kind were frowned upon and given the look of disapproval from the man of the house. So you can imagine my shock when this same man who was once a hard hearted man of punishment and the bestower of fear in the people he came into contact with, all of a sudden comes home from Africa and cries. In my 20 years of life I had never seen my dad cry until he came back from Africa and told his tale. He told of a poverty stricken people within the community of Korah, Ethiopia. He told of a girl who had been bed-ridden for five months getting prayed for and getting out of bed and walking, of two little girls whose mother literally begged him to take the girls to America so they could have a better life, of a moment in time when he first heard the voice of God speak and saying "these are my people and I am in the midst of them." My dad came back forever changed and as a young man who idolized his father, one can get a sense of the intrigue that was sparked in my mind.

Fast forward a few months from February to May of that same year and you would find me preparing for a summer internship in NYC. Right before I left, I was told that my dad would be returning to Africa in August and this time my younger brother would be joining him. Upon hearing this I sat there and thought to myself "hmm if only I wasnt going to NYC, I would be able to go to Africa with them. Hmm Oh well." Little did I know that "oh well" would turn into "oh drats" once the realization of what all was taking place on their two week expedition into both Uganda and Ethiopia actually hit me. At that time my plans were to actually go to NYC upon graduation and start or join a church there. The thought of missions rarely crossed my mind and if it did it was for Russia, never Africa.Besides Africa was hot, dry, and violent, at least that's what the ignorance inside me said. All those accusations and assumptions would be flipped on there head in May of 2012 when I visited Africa for the first time.

After returning from NYC and starting school again, it was announced that both my parents would be leading a medical missions trip to Ethiopia in May of 2012 and that I was to go and help (although I had no medical experience whatsoever...unless you count the numerous visits to the hospital I have racked up over the years). To say I was excited would actually be an overstatement. I figured I would go over there and see what all the fuss was about and see the land that my dad had so fallen in love with, to the point of retiring from the police department and going back to medical school so he could be used in a greater capacity on the African missions field. Was I excited? not really, but I was intrigued and curious. It was in the spring of 2012, two months before going to Africa, that the Lord started hitting me hard and bestowing upon me the idea of doing missions work. First in a chapel service in which someone told me that the love for people God placed in my heart was going to change nations, then in a revival service where the pastor prayed for me and said he heard the Lord emphasis missions when it came to my calling, and then a third time in the all guys chapel. Needless to say I was starting to get the picture He was painting.

So now with bags packed and this calling in mind, it was time to depart for the land of Ethiopia. Seeing as this was my first overseas mission trip I was a little nervous about what all would happen and the course that the Lord had set me on and I had plenty of time to think about both on the 12 hour plane ride there. We landed in Addis Abba and after standing in the customs line for another 2 hours I finally took my first step upon the African soil that would come to be the passion of my life and the reference point to which all other mission experiences would be compared to. The first thing I noticed wasn't the beauty of the flowers, or was it the crisp, cool air (which did surprise me as seeing it was Africa and Africa was suppose to be HOT), nor was it the gentle breeze that so lightly blew through my hair. No the first thing I noticed was the smell...the weird foreign smell of trash and dirt and what I now think might have been body odor, whether from me or the people around me I cant say for sure. It was only after taking in the shock of the smell and taking a few minutes to recover that the other aspects were able to be appreciated for their true beauty and brilliance. Maybe it was the beauty of the mountains that lay before me, maybe it was the green of the grass that reside under me, or maybe it was the nauseous fumes that fumigated within my nostrils, but as I looked out over my first glimpse of the country and continent that would soon become my passion and drive, something inside me jumped and excitment slowly started bubbling and churning in the farthest crevices of my heart and I realized in that moment something that would come to define me from there on out: I was home.

At that moment I was, in the words of Slim Shady, snapped back to reality. My father had come strolling out of the airport and looks around and then looks at the team, and then looks around and then looks at the team and a puzzling and somewhat worried look crosses his face....Where is out ride? The guy who was suppose to be there to pick us up was seeminly late and the funny thing was we were actually late getting out of the Airport which meant that he was double late. This is what I like to call my introduction to African Time. It seems that in Africa if they say five minutes you better expect fifteen and if they say they will be there at nine, you can probably get up at nine, have some coffee, enjoy morning devos and then hear them pull in to pick you up around 10:30 or 11. So my dad calls the guy and he shows up in these two little passenger vans. Now to say that there was not going to be enough room for both us and the bags would be a very accurate statment indeed. There were 18 members on our team and each had a carry on and two 50lb suitcases or dufflebags. I was perplexed at exaclty how we were all going to fit but I was about to get another lesson from Africa: what cant fit inside goes on the roof. They proceeded to take all our suitcases and bags and throw them, not place them or gently situate them, no THROW them onto the top of the car. I can honeslty say I was having a hard time deciding whether to be midly upset that they were throwing our bags or incredibly impressed seeing as they were throwing 50lb bags in the air. I decided to go with the latter seeing as they just hurled 50lbs in the air and me being upset would not have any effect except to possibly get my butt wooped. Once the bags are situated we all pile into the vans and head of to our livng quarters for the next week.

We arrive at the guest house (our living quarters) and start getting sitauted in our rooms and unpacking meds and making sure everything was ready to go for the week of clinic (which is basically small procedures and hospital check ups for you non-medical people). After everything was unpacked my dad asked a few of us to head to Korah with him. I of course jumped at the oppurtunity and after we got the few who decided to come we piled into vans and headed out. The drive to Korah was only a mere 15 minutes but remeber this is 15 minutes on a bumpy, dirty, pot-hole stricken road so that 15 minutes usually came out to be a mini adventure. 10 minutes into our mini adventure we turn off the paved road (and I use the word paved very lightly) onto an old dirt one bordered on both sides by metal siding one finds on outbuildings. The road was bumpy and the ditches next to them filled with a brown liquid that can hardly be considered water. The smell of earlier became stronger and more grotesque and it was all I could do to keep from gagging. The houses, if you could call them that, were made of mud and tin roofs and were situated one right next to the other. donkeys walked the street next to the van and made their usual loud noise as we drove by. Flies filled the air, like locusts, they seemed to decend upon the people, animals, and trash that seemed to be literally coming from the ground beneath our feet. It was the worst conditions I had ever seen and yet as I looked out the window I noticed something far greater: the faces of little kids as they ran alongside us and the smallest but most precious sight I had yet laid eyes upon, their smiles. They were surrounded by societys worst, by the trash and junk of their fellow man and yet they smiled. They smiled regardless of what they did or did not have. They smiled regardless of whether or not they had food, and many of them didnt. They even smiled regardless of the knowledge that many of them were infected with the aids virus and struggling to survive and hold on to the life that they knew. They smiled because regardless of all that, they had a community around them that loved them and they smiled because white men had come to their village and community to help them. It was breathtaking. My emotions seemed to swirl within me tugging at my heart and causing the tear ducts to well up. It was all I could do to keep from letting the water works turn on and turn into a babbling brook. I force myself to hold the tears down as we pull into the church building where we are going to be having clinic and as I step out of the van I am greeted by dozens of beautiful kids struggling and fighting to grab a hold of my hand and to have physical contact with me and the other members of our team. These kids dont care what our skin color is, they dont care where we hail from, they dont even care how much money we make or what our social status is. All they care about is just being close and having that phyiscal contact was enough for them. I knew from that moment that I would soon be returning to Africa and that I would be returning to stay. I was determined to get to Ethiopia the following summer for an Internship. It would come to pass though Ethiopia would not be my summer destination, rather Rwanda would come to be home. But the events leading up to that and the rest of the Ethiopian trip will have to wait until tomorrow with part two :) Have I left ya with the cliff hanger? I hope so :) tune in tomorrow for part two and see how the plans changed time and time again before finally stopping on the place God chose for me :)