Generosity

After our youth meeting on Saturday, I found out that Angelika, Madame Traole, and Lea were going to visit a few widows from our church. Lea had a lot of rice left over that she’d been given at her wedding, and she wanted to give it away before it went bad. Mai and I joined them. 

Zahatia had just come back from the fields when we arrived, around 5 pm. Her 3 littlest ones were running about, shirtless, eating mangoes in the yard. She walked up the path to greet us, and we all walked over to her small, cement block house. Sitting down outside on small stools and chairs, we waited for the news to be asked. Lea explained her gift of rice, which Zahatia graciously accepted. And then she did something that none of us expected. She walked over to her basin, full of the day’s harvest, and placed it down in front of us. Inside were mangoes, eggplants, and peanuts. Then she came out of the house with another large bowl full of sweet potatoes, the ones with bright violet skin. We passed around a few peanuts, picking them off the dirt covered roots. Zahatia, a widow with 6 kids, was giving us all of this produce. 

As we packed them into bags, I wanted to say, “no, you need it more than I do!” but that would mean not accepting her gift, which would bring her shame. I was touched by her generosity. She has so little, and yet she gave us so much. It reminds me of the story that Jesus recounts in scripture, of the woman who gave a few copper coins - all she had. And then a rich man gave a few silver coins, but he had so much more. Which one am I? Surely, I’m the one giving the silver coins, and Zahatia is the one with the small copper pennies.

If that’s not generosity, I don’t know what is. Zahatia has taught me to give freely, to give all that I have. Now, I have no other choice! The truth is, when we put ourselves into such a place where we must step out in faith, we give God the chance to provide as He promised. God will take care of Zahatia. She knows that He is the one who gave her that produce, and He can bring her 10 times more. The money and the objects that I have are not my own - they were a gift. I have no choice but to share them, as Zahatia shared her harvest with me.

Last night, I sat talking to Lea about Saturday. She recounted testimony upon testimony, of times when she gave away pagnes or money and God gave back to her all the much more. Like yesterday when she used her last 1,000 francs to get her mom in town, and her dad gave her 2,000 more when he came to pick her up. We encouraged one another with the ways God had provided for us, bubbling with excitement for the ways that we could share His provision. Next Saturday, we are going to visit Zahatia with the other young women from our church, to work in her field and make lunch for her family. 
Lea is one way that God has provided for me. Who would have known that I would find such a good friend, with such similar visions, in a 24 year old Senoufo woman from Cote d’Ivoire. Only God could have planned such a friendship.

“Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously," (2 Corinthians 9:6)
Above: Lea and I

Some pictures from the past few weeks:

Mangoes!

The Korhogo market

Pekaly, Florence and I.  Pekal is in his last year of pastoral training!

Baby on my back!  Katie Frazee - her parents are missionaries in Mali.

Jess and Tricia.  Crazy kids.

Steve, Jess's hubby.

Two Worlds Collide

Family. I have two of them. Why? Because I moved to Cote d’Ivoire, and an Ivorian family took me in as their daughter. It had been 16 months since I’d seen my American parents. Then, in February, my real momma came to visit me here in West Africa. My two worlds collided.

When my host dad first met my mom at church, he lit up. In the greeting line after church, he gave her 3 kisses on the cheek. I introduced her at church, and everyone applauded. It was, I imagine, a little like winning a Grammy. My friends called her “momma Stephanie!” saying that she is now their mom as well. My little brother, Emmanuel, ran across the school yard to greet her, and then embraced her with all his might.

She came with me to Centre Providence and helped lead art classes, to visit a few of the widows in our church, and to see many of my friends here in Cote d’Ivoire. She tried all the foods: alloko (fried plantains), ignames (a large potato), attieke (think couscous, but stickier), and even futu (pounded ignames). She got to see Bouake, Korhogo, and Ferke. It was a jam packed 2 weeks.

The best part, I have to say, was when she met my African family. My host mom prepared a feast of alloko and fried ignames. We sat around a table, eating off the platters. My host family had asked about my real family for months, never imagining they’d get to meet my mom. Bakary, my host dad, told me that now he knows he has a family, a home, in America too. Mom unpacked the backpack full of gifts: knives, a soccer ball, clothes, jewelry. A few days before we left, my host parents came to visit and presented traditional, woven, Senoufo outfits for both of my (real) parents.

I went back to the US with my mom and spent 5 weeks traveling, support raising, and visiting friends. Now, as I write this, I am back in Cote d’Ivoire. It was all a bit of a blur - though a well enjoyed and refreshing blur. I miss it A LOT, but somehow, I am sure that this is where I should be right now - wearing a pagne, sitting on a foam mattress on the floor after a bucket bath, anticipating the dinner of rice and sauce that’s waiting for me outside.

This past week, I moved in with some friends here in Bouake. I’m in the adjusting period, trying to figure out where I fit in the house. Today, I visited my Ivorian family. It felt like going home - somewhere familiar, comfortable, safe. Talking to Bakary and Kari, my host parents, felt a little like sitting in my parents house in the states. I felt so at ease, taken care of, without worry. It wasn’t always like that. I remember that moving in with them felt so uncomfortable at first. Today, it is the opposite. In a place where I sometimes long for home (in the US), having a family in Cote d’Ivoire is such a grace, such a gift.

Just like in the states, here in Cote d’Ivoire, I have a home that I can always run to. It’s somewhere that I know I will be taken care of, somewhere that I feel loved.

My mom and I with my host family

 My mom, my mom, and I

Ferke!  Visiting Linn and Glenn Boese

Visiting the Tuo family, a widow in our church

Pile-ing corn in a village near Ferke

My mom and I with Mai

With Tim and Lea

Her first moto-taxi ride!

I am His and He is mine.

Five weeks spent in the US have left me craving more, yet hopeful for what God has in store when I return to Cote d'Ivoire. I couldn't do any of this without His strength, His unfailing love, His power that overcame the grave. This morning, in church, we sang In Christ Alone. "As He stands in victory, sin's curse has lost its grip on me. For I am His and He is mine. Bought with the precious blood of Christ." I am His! Sweet relief. I don't belong to fear or sin - I belong to a victorious God. The song goes on to say, "No guilt in life, no fear in death, this is the power of Christ in me." As I get on that plane tomorrow, I go out in His life giving power. Praise Him for that.

Blessings. That is what these past 5 weeks have been full of. Here are a few of them - my family.

My brother, Hunter, and I.

Bear, the newest edition to our family.

My mom and I. This lady is my superstar. She came to Africa to visit me (next blog!)

I love my dad.

Pappy and Nanny.

Hunter's pretty cool for 13.

From life's first cry to final breath..

Jesus commands my destiny.

No power of hell, no scheme of man can ever pluck me from His hand.

'Til He returns or calls me home, here in the power of Christ I'll stand.