A Grand Adventure

Am I hearing correctly?

2012-02-15T05:14:00.014-05:00

As I sat in the marquis, people started standing up, pacing, throwing chairs down on the ground, cursing and yelling that it was finished. Their cheers and horns, once played with enthusiasm, were lost. Cote d’Ivoire lost to Zambia in a shoot off, player against goalie, standing 11 meters apart. This was after two 15 minute overtimes. The crowd walked away, somber and dejected.

I would have loved to see us win. Not for the sake of saying that CI won the Africa cup, but because this country is pulling itself out of 10 years of frustrating war, and any encouragement would help. Reconciliation isn’t an easy task. Sure, it was just a game - contrary to the public’s reactions. But why couldn’t they win? Maybe there’s larger lessons to learn here.

I’ve been asking God a lot of questions lately. I keep hoping for at least a small whisper, like Elijah. A burning bush or a dew covered fleece would certainly be welcome, but we don’t always get what we want. Sometimes He tells us to build an ark or travel to a distant land, and then you hear nothing until… well, until we finish the ark or until it’s time for more direction.

I’m not very good at waiting. When I was a kid, I wiped my spaghetti sauce covered hands all over my clothes because I didn’t want to wait for a napkin. I constantly had skinned knees because I couldn’t walk to my destination - I was in a hurry to get there.

Reconciliation is achieved when both sides can humble themselves enough to listen to one another. During the war in RCI, the divide was set between the north and the south. If you had a Senoufo name, such as Coulibaly or Soro, you were immediately associated with the North. This meant, you were denied certain rights of Ivorian citizenship if you lived in the South. Many Northerners had to flee to the north to avoid being persecuted. This country has to overcome their divides and rebuild together.

Hearing God also takes humility. A quieting of oneself, and submission to listening for that small whisper. I find myself saying, “Listen to me, God! Please, have mercy and answer me!” (Ps 27:7). I love the next verse of this psalm: “My heart says of you, “Seek His face!” Your face, Lord, I will seek.”

“Wait for the Lord. Be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.” Ps 27:14

“If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.” James 4:1

Ivorians have been saying that this cup was just a practice run for next time, when we will win. A period of silence often means that we are in the shadow of God’s hand, and guidance is to come. Amidst fears and frustrations, I can only seek His face. Now that I’ve exhausted all of my own capabilities, that’s all I can do. Like Gideon, I am often afraid that God has abandoned me. But almost immediately, God answers, “Am I not sending you?” (Judges 6:14). The second I start asking Him why he has taken blessings away, he points to the ones He’s since given me. And they are numerous - just different than before.

Last week, I walked from church to the market center with Mai, talking the whole way, sharing fears and worries about the future. I met her around this time last year, and my French was not great. I could barely describe my hobbies, let alone fears and worries. But today, our friendship goes deeper than I ever thought possible between language and cultural barriers. She bought me a grilled plantain and water before we parted ways. Friendships like hers remind me of what I'm doing here. They give me courage in the midst of it all.

We visited Dorcas House, a business for women who have left the Muslim faith to become Christians. As I left, I called into the workshop, "Annibara!" (Good work! in their language, Dioula). They all replied, "N'se", and one woman said "E-bey soh moh goh foh". The reply slipped out of my mouth, naturally without any hesitation, "O-bey nah meh". She smiled. There's a purpose in it all.

“Remain in me, and I will remain in you,” is the small whisper I hear every day.

In 2 days, my mom comes to visit for 2 weeks! In March, I will get on a plane headed for the US for the first time in 16 months, and spend 5 weeks seeing friends and family. I will be able to share about how much God has blessed me in Cote d'Ivoire. Then, in April, I will come back to this country that has siezed my heart. For how long? That's yet to be determined. Amidst the craziness that I'm about to jump into, I am sure that He is guiding me. No matter if I go to school again or not, no matter what I study, whether I live in Philadelphia or Cote d'Ivoire, it's ultimately His plan that will come to pass. Pray with me as I seek His face for what's next. Pray for this country as they rebuild and seek reconciliation.

“If we will only obey, and do the task that He has placed closest to us, we will see Him.” (MUFHH Feb 7)

My sister, Kolo, started learning to tailor clothes.

Dorcas house

Abidjan Market

Nema got married! She was our cultural guide when I first arrived in RCI.

Our Benkadi team

What would life be without relationships?

2012-01-24T12:17:00.013-05:00

Here are some pictures from the past few weeks! We've been doing some traveling around. I spent a week in Korhogo staying with Tricia's host family, and now we're in Abidjan. We made a pit stop at the beach, on our way to drop off Alyssa. Free, beautiful beach? Yes, please! I've been learning to be content with the present. Sometimes answers don't come as quickly as you would like, and He asks us to remain in Him. I've been so thankful for my relationships, because they are what remind me of why I'm here. In every one of these photos is someone who matters a lot to me: my teammates, Lea, and the girls at Centre Providence. Enjoy!

Jess and Steve

They were pulling in a fishing net.

Alyssa, Devin and I Lea and I, at the rock quarry

Jess, Alyssa, Lea, and I, trying out our homemade foot scrub.

When there is no one to cut hair..

Pictures from our January party at Centre Providence. I love these girls.

My painting class! This is Awa

Solange

Laeticia

"You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you." (Is 26:3)

"Faithful is He who is calling you (to himself) and utterly trustworthy, and He will also do it (that is, fullfill His call by hallowing and keeping you." (1 Thes. 5:24)

"God is not a man, that He should lie or change his mind. Does He speak and then not act? Does He promise and not fullfill? (Num 23:19)

Holiday anecdotes

2012-01-08T07:28:00.002-05:00

My friend Tenan has been teaching Steve and Jessica (our newest JC recruits) French. One day, upon seeing all of our electronics, he said, “All Americans have computers and cameras. I think they give them away for free in the US.” We have the same Senoufo name: Yéo Tenena and Yéo Ténédja. So he introduces me as his sister, even to his own family. He says “this is Ténédja, she is Ivorian.”

I tried on my new outfit for Sarah one day, and she lit up, exclaiming “Steph-an-ie! Tu es belle!” (You are beautiful!). Wouldn’t you know, the next thing she said was, “je prie pour toi, que Dieu te donne un BON mari,” (I pray for you, that God gives you a good husband). This is one of the love languages of an Ivorian - to pray for you to get married and have kids. She herself got married at 30, pretty late for this culture. I asked her if she was afraid - which opened up the flood gates. She told me all about her first love, the man she thought she’d marry. But after years of waiting, his family told her that she couldn’t marry their son, since she was from a different ethnic group. She ended up marrying Benjamin, an old friend. Sarah calls me “ma petite soeur,” (her little sister), with which I usually respond, “ma grande soeur”.

On Christmas eve morning, I went to pick up things at the tailor. As always, he wasn’t finished, so Jessica and I went with his son to find jerseys. I thought it would be a short walk, but it was not. Through broken, trash covered and busy streets we walked, and walked. I laughed at my agitation. It was so like life - I am ready to get somewhere, to do something, and then God takes me on a long path that I never wanted or planned for. When I asked the tailor‘s son why we were going so far, he said, “what? You’re not used to walking?” We weren’t even sure we’d communicated well what we wanted. What if we didn’t find a jersey, and the walk was for nothing? Yet, we have not conceived what God has for us. The walk is not in vain if He’s leading.

For Christmas eve night, I went to church.. From 11 pm to 6 am. Christians celebrate the day by dancing all night long, which they call a veille (translates to vigil). There’s also a sermon and skits. Around 3 am, my friend Julie literally took me by the hand and showed me dance steps to the balafone (a traditional Senoufo instrument). After one of the songs, several of the youth came over and high-fived me, saying that I was Ivorian and would stay in Cote d’Ivoire. Julie said we’d stay and dance until the new year. Sweaty and exhausted, I went to sit down around 4:30 am. It’s like a workout!

After Christmas, we went to stay at the NZ river lodge for a few days, west of Bouake. It’s a beautiful tree-house like structure that was started 3 months before the war broke out in 2002, and rests unfinished. Our guide was a man who had stayed with the lodge to guard it when everyone else fled, because otherwise, he knew the rebels would have stolen building materials. He was a funny guy. He’d say things like, “I’m not a comedian, I’ve never been, but people think I’m funny because of my teeth,” or “I’m an ecologist but I smoke.” One night, while waiting for a shower, he walked up and put 2 jars on the table: one with dead snakes, and another with a tarantula. He was doing his best to entertain us. The stars there were beautiful - the kind that remind you of how big God is.

My friend Mai is a very quiet girl when you first meet her, but in actuality, she is not at all quiet. At the wedding of Timothee and Lea, during the “I dos” and the 5 minute long rolling up of the veil, she yelled and screamed, mostly out of excitement. You see, Ivorian weddings are not as quiet as ours. They’re more like watching a concert in the US. If you don’t get a little boisterous, you must not be that excited. I did a lot of jumping up and down and dancing myself. Timothee and Lea are like family to me, and I have been waiting for this day for months. I love them both so much! Seriously, what an incredibly joyful day. To see all my friends with the jeunesse (20 somethings) get together to plan, put together, and then celebrate this day was amazing. I’m afraid I’ll get asked to leave weddings in the US, assuming that it’s ok to jump up and down and cheer when the couple says “I do”.

On New Years Eve, we danced to some classic songs around the fire, one of them being YMCA. The next day, the Ivorian kids who were staying with us (Esther, Caleb, Ezekiel, and Deborah) started singing “Moi, J’aime chier,” to the same tune. This means, “Me, I like to poop.” Apparently, that’s what “Y M C A” sounds like in French. (PS: chier is probably not the verb you'd use for this action in France, but this is Cote d'Ivoire).

Yesterday, I greeted some of my host dad’s friends. One of the men gave me a series of blessings, in Senoufo. I responded to all with “Amina,” (Amen) having no idea what he had said. Then the guy next to him said, “Really? He blessed you with a lot of kids.” I said I’d rather wait until I was married, but I’m pretty sure he blessed me for that too.

My host parents came to visit me at ICA. At one point, Bakary, my host dad, said “Tu n’as pas oublie que tu es un Yéo?” (You haven’t forgotten that you’re a Yéo?) “Jamais!” (Never), I told him. My family name is Yéo Ténédja. Though I’m not living with them right now, he wanted to tell me that I am still family.

Christmas, camping, and a wedding!

2012-01-02T08:29:00.005-05:00

On December 31st, we celebrated the long awaited wedding of Timothee Ouattara and Lea Sekongo! I wish I could describe the joy that I felt to see this day finally arrive! I have known them both since I arrived in Cote d'Ivoire; Timothee has been one of my closest Ivorian brothers. I've worked in sunday school with both of them, and traveled to Ghana with Tim. He's been my translator and cultural guide, and we've talked for months about the day they would get married. As I gave Lea and Timothee hugs in the greeting line, and congratulated them, Tim yelled, "en fin!" (finally). Here's our Benkadi group picture.

As the balafones started up, I joined the rest of the youth in a circle, doing what I like to call the Senoufo shuffle. I snapped this picture on my way past the lovely couple.

Alyssa, Mai, and I. Mai is Timothee's sister and my good friend.
We're all wearing the wedding pagne (for close family and friends who are practically family)

This is right when Lea said "I do", or in this culture, "oui!"

The grueling 5 minutes of the traditional "roll up the veil" routine. Meanwhile, I was standing next to Mai and the other youth from church, yelling and screaming for him to kiss her already.

The kiss!

Lyss and I

Tenan and I! Il etait trop sappe!

Poor Tim and Lea were exhausted at this point.. which is why they look unhappy. It was the end of a fantastic day.

Between Christmas and new years, we took a trip to the NZ river lodge, west of Bouake. Spending a few days in the bush, in the middle of nature, cooking over the fire was such a refreshing time. Here's some of our team posing in the stream.

Papa Rod cooking us up some breakfast.

Lyss, Tricia, Esther and Caleb

Trish and I cutting papaya

Songimay and I, at the kids' Christmas celebration

Steve as Papa Noel.

A pre-christmas Benkadi (Journey Corps) group shot.. we're ridiculous.

Joyeux Noel and Bonne Annee!

A Dialogue with Jesus

2011-12-26T06:58:00.008-05:00

Listen to me.

Ok, I’m here.

No you’re not. Stop trying to do that yourself. My yoke is easy and my burden is light. (Mt. 11:30)

What? Making 5 batches of cookies? Planning meals? Planning my life?

Yeah, my ways and my thoughts are much higher than yours (Isaiah 55:11)

Yeah.. I would feel more comfortable if I knew I’d be able to pay off my loans soon.

I knit you together in your mother’s womb. I know when you sit and stand, I know your thoughts (Ps 139)

I know, I love that psalm, but the worries are still there.

Before you even called to me, I answered you (Is 65:24). If I tell you to go, I’m going to provide. (Heb 11:8)

What about my own intelligent plan? It was a good one, everyone thought so.

Why are you more attached to your own plans than to me? Commit your way to me. (Ps 37:5)

Why don’t you just tell me that I’ll be married in a few years and people will think I’m successful?

Your competence is in me (2 Cor. 3:5), you need to trust that I have power to do what I have promised. (Rom 4:21)

But what about my comfort? Are you going to ask me before you wreck my plans?

Oh you have such little faith. Look at the birds in the air and the lilies in the field. Look at how I clothe and feed them! Are you not more valuable to me than they are? (Matt 6:25-34

Ok, I understand.. But I am really tired. I think I’m overworking myself.

My presence will go with you and I will give you rest (Exodus 33: 14)

Not even a nap? I could really use a nap.

Strengthen your feeble hands, steady your knees that give way (Is 35:3), Do not fear, for I am with you. I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. (Is 41:10)

I give up! What do you want me to do so badly that I can’t even take a nap?

I work in you every day to will and to act according to my good purpose. (Phil 2:13).

What purpose?

To spend yourself on behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed. (Is. 58:10)

Well goodness, that’s really concrete. And did I mention.. Huge!

So am I. I fixed limits for the seas, I tell the dawn its place, I disperse the lightning and father the rain. (Job 38).

Hello! I am so tiny compared to that

But I am not. If you have faith, you can say to this mountain to throw itself into the sea, and it’ll happen. (Mt. 21:21)

Do you really think I’m ready for that?

Your treasure is me, and you are a clay jar, moldable and breakable, to show that the power you hold is not your own, but mine. (2 Cor. 4:7) I created you for dependence on me.

You know how much I like my independence..

I saved you with my grace for a purpose because I created you and I created works in advance for you to do. (Eph. 2:8-10). You are not your own, you were bought with a price. (1 Cor. 6:19)

…

I love you, but sometimes, you are really selfish.

I want to follow you with my entire heart, without deviation. Give me an overflowing joy, a realization of what you’ve done for me, and make me someone who serves you willingly, without excuse.. (Ps 51: 10,12)

We have a lot of work to do.

That’s what I was afraid of..

Sarah

2011-12-10T11:18:00.007-05:00

She lives in the campement down the road from Ecole Baptiste, our program’s homebase, and cooks us yummy meals. One of my responsibilities has been to oversee the kitchen and make sure we have food to eat. Sarah is the chief of the kitchen, and it has been a joy to work alongside her. She is a comedian, a mother, a wife, a head chef, an actress, and a singer.

She is married to a man named Benjamin, and has become the mother of his children. They are not hers, however. Her best friend was his first wife, but she passed away. When Sarah saw that he was struggling with his 7 kids, she offered to become their mother and his wife.

Before that, she was part of a traveling singing and theater group in Mali. She has taught me a few of the songs, in Bombara, that she learned during those days. Often, while cooking together or organizing tupperware, she’ll teach me, line by line, songs that talk about God’s love and joy. She makes me laugh so hard - everyone calls her a comedian. Most of the time, it starts when she makes fun of me and I do the same to her. Before you know it, we’re both laughing so hard. The other day, I decided to make coconut milk. That in itself was bizarre to her - but she considered it to be one of my strange American things. Then she watched as I put my left pointer finger in to check the consistency, and she said “Stephanie, si quelqu’un te voit quand tu fais ca, il ne va pas le manger,” (if someone sees you do that, he won’t eat it.)

On Friday, she described to me how you eat baked potatoes, in Dioula, a language she’s been trying to teach me, at my request. I stared at her. She hadn’t taught me those terms yet. She has taught me simple things, like “E bay soh moh goh foh”, which means “greet your family”, a common thing people say when telling someone goodbye. There is one sound that I simply cannot pronounce. It sounds like “Gba”, but there is a very forceful tone behind the “B” which I have yet to master. Every time I try, she’s practically rolling on the floor laughing.

I worked alongside her one morning, making peanut butter cookies, as she made peanut sauce. She explained to me in detail how to make the sauce, and then showed me how to properly mix and roll the cookies. When I told her that I thought I’d done a good job, she said that I had not. It was her job to teach me so I could make them properly for my future husband, who she is eager to find for me.

In August, when I was baptized in the stream behind Ecole Baptiste, it was her who led us in songs. I remember her singing, “I have decided to follow Jesus,” (J’ai decide a suivre Jesus). Sarah is an amazing person. Our friendship is something you don’t find every day. Even cross-culturally, I can say that she is a true “soul” sister, someone I was meant to know and to love. Maybe it’s because of our adventurous spirits or our mutual love for laughter. I respect her for the decisions she’s made in her life and the whole hearted spirit that she’s embraced them with. And every time I see her, I thank Jesus for putting her in my life.

These pictures describe our relationship well

The Baptism

Sarah, on the right, leading us in song

Fall in Bouake

2011-11-27T12:17:00.011-05:00

Thanksgiving

Play day wth Songimay

Painting class at Centre Providence

What if our world's leaders were truly selfless?

2011-11-19T09:51:00.011-05:00

If, for a US college student to go to Canada for a leadership conference, it meant taking an over filled bus, leaving 5 hours late because the company was unreliable, and sleeping overnight at the border because you arrived at 6:30, half an hour after it closed (it opens again at 6 am), do you know anyone who would make the journey? I’m not sure I do. But I know 4 Ivorian students who did, to go to Accra, Ghana. I had the opportunity of going with them.

In the US, 1 in 3,700 women die in childbirth. In Africa, 1 in 16 women die in childbirth. Half the children I know quit school at the age of 8 or 9 because their parents needed them for housework or selling food, clothes, or themselves on the streets. The University in Bouake hasn’t been running for 5 years because of the war. Right now, because several professors live in Abidjan, when one comes to Bouake they have classes for a few days, then not again for several weeks. The inequalities in health care and schooling are far greater than we can wrap our minds around. What would Africa look like with Godly leadership?

There’s an organization called the HuD group (www.leadershiphuddles.org), a not-for-profit movement, which started in Ghana, with a man named Dr. Yaw Perby. Currently living in Montreal, he runs training sessions for young people in several countries, with a mission to, “engage hearts, enlighten heads and empower hands of Emerging Leaders for global impact and God’s glory”.

”You can’t tell me that you love your people so much that you’re willing to kill them,” yelled Dr. Perby, emphatically, to a room full of students from Cote d‘Ivoire, Ghana, Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Benin. In Sierra Leone, innocent people were asked, “do you want long or short sleeves?” That meant, where should I cut your arm off? In Cote d’Ivoire, rebel factions threw bombs into church courtyards, to try and rile the people against Allasane, a Muslim, when Gbagbo (a said Christian) refused to leave office. 3,000 people died because one man had too much greed. Africa needs leaders who will give their lives for their people. This continent’s issues often feel like Goliath, and the youth are as small as David. But Jeremiah, Jesus, and Samuel all heard from God when they were young. Contrary to the popular belief here in Africa, life doesn’t start at 40. A girl from Sierra Leone, Christiana, stood up at the end with tears in her eyes and said, “we don’t need leaders for tomorrow, we need them today!”

With statistics like, “it takes 10,000 hours of practice to become a genius”, and the Beatles played 1200 times before they got big, the crowd was charged to start early, walking in Godly principles, and seeking God’s purpose for them in their countries. For, “it is good for a man to bear the yoke while he is young,” Lamentations 3:27.

“The kings of the gentiles lord it over tem; and those who exercise authority over them call themselves benefactors. But you are not to be like that. Instead, the greatest among you shall be like the youngest, and the one who rules like the one who serves,“ Luke 22:31.

Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday of this past week, I sat in a guest house at the University of Ghana, with a small group of students from Cote d’Ivoire, Sierra Leone, Liberia, Ghana, and Benin, plowing through workbooks and sharing our own experiences. One of the Liberians, Sartu Doe, told me that his family stayed through the entire war. In fact, at the age of 12, he saw his own father shot before his own eyes. Yet, he came all the way to Ghana because he believes that he can be part of turning his own country around. Are you getting this???

For once, I understood everything (because they speak English in Ghana), and I often translated for my friends from RCI, assuring them that I knew their struggles, first hand. I understand better now why Jesus often answered questions in parables. I found myself translating concepts like “bearing fruit” by painting a picture of a grapefruit tree. And everywhere I went, people were encouraged when I told them that I learned this much French in a year. I remember one night, when I was laughing and chatting with Mai before bed. One of the Ghanaian leaders came in and said “Stephanie, you’ve only spoken French for a year? That’s amazing.” My friend Timothee told me that he was proud to be my friend.

But perhaps the greatest joy for me of this trip, was to hear my Ivorian friends introduce me as American by nationality, but Ivorian at heart.

Timothee later told me that he said this because he saw me share in this experience with them, awful bus trip and all, accepting everything as it came. Then, the last night, we all shared about our countries conflicts over the past year. My team talked about our recent civil war: the numbers who died, people in Abidjan who were trapped in their houses with 2 loaves of bread and a sardine can, and the frustrating paralysis that students faced - unable to do anything to stop it. Then someone turned to me and asked how I saw it. And with surprise, I realized that I had been in the country during the conflict, I had experienced the frustrations of a society whose banks were closed for 3 months and people had no motivation to work. But knowing my Ivorian friends and family like Timothee, Mai, Pierre, and Tenan reminded me that, despite what the news portrayed, life went on as normal. And today, I want to see this country rebuilt as much as they do

If you would have told me, back in October of 2010, that I’d be traveling to Ghana with 4 Ivorians a year later, I would have laughed. But with God, all things are possible.

We know, “He is able to do immeasurably more than we all ask or imagine, according to his power, that is at work within us,” (Ephesians 3:20). So, “Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful,” (Hebrews 10:23). So that others will say of our lives, “(Steph), a servant of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle and set apart for the gospel of God - the gospel he promised beforehand through his prophets in the Holy Scriptures regarding his Son,” (Romans 1:1-3).

Pictures from are Ghana adventure:

Pierre, Tenan, and I

Timothee, Mai, and I

I like this quote. I think it describes Journey Corps

Gilba (Sierra Leone) and a Ghanaian sister

Youth Power conference

My Ivorian brothers: Tenan, Timothee and Pierre

and my sister in Christ, Mai

Isaac (Sierra Leone) and Sartu (Liberia)

Pierre (CI) and Isaac (Sierra Leone)

Tenan told me that he was dancing like an American. He was showing me how we're gonna dance at my wedding. He's a riot.

Pierre, Dr. Perby, and Mai

Our training group: Liberia, Ghana, Sierra Leone, and Cote d'Ivoire represent!
Sneak peak - next blog: fall in Bouake

Two Different Worlds

2011-11-07T13:16:00.011-05:00

Have you seen the movie “Night and Day”? The past week of my life has felt a little like that. Except, instead of sedatives, I’ve had doses of Paris, huge metropolitan supermarkets, plane travel, airport security, lack of sleep, and an all night veille in an Ivorian village. Is your head spinning yet?

Last Monday morning, I was wondering around Paris. I went to an art gallery for the first time in a year - l’Orangerie, to see Monet’s water lilies. That night, I babysat 3 adorable, bi-lingual boys whose parents (Jonathan and Karen Finley) are missionaries with WorldVenture in Lognes, just outside of Paris. Tuesday morning, I went to a huge supermarket (like a super walmart) with Karen. It was a holiday and full of people. We turned a corner and found a traffic jam of bright red shopping carts. As I followed her, weaving through moving buggies, she asked if it was a little like the market in Bouaké. Suddenly, in my mind, the carts turned to motorcycles, cows, sheep and Djoula women selling vegetables, soap, snails, pagnes, sugar, and plantains. I laughed, realizing it was a lot like the Koko market that I often walked through on my way home from church. Only much less dusty and with a lot more choices. That night, I went to H&M, one of my favorite stores in the US. All I wanted were a few t-shirts, but somehow it took me an hour to pick them out. It was pretty overwhelming.

Two days later, I was in Dabakala, a small town Northeast of Bouake, at an all-night funeral for one of the first pastors in the Baptist church of Cote d’Ivoire. Suddenly, I found myself trying to convince a little boy, who most likely didn’t speak French or English, to keep his shoes and pants on, in the middle of a dusty village, with people dressed in pagnes and bright white dresses rushing around to prepare for the burial. I later walked past to see his pants and shoes on the ground. He either didn’t take my advice or didn’t understand my French. Around 8 am on the 2^nd day, after a few hours of sleep and no coffee, I found myself sitting on a little wooden stool, washing spoons and plates in large basins of water, in the middle of a chaotic village courtyard. Women who only spoke Djimeni were passing me rinsed plates, and I washed them with a fish net sponge and a large, round cake of soap. The funny thing is, this setting is more normal to me now than the supermarkets and shopping malls in France. For lunch, we were invited to the mayor’s house to eat. There I was, sitting under a canopy of trees in front of a mansion, eating salad. Their bathroom had toilet paper and a bathtub. Had I somehow woken up back in France again?

In Bouaké, yesterday morning (Sunday), I walked into the church courtyard to see the monitors and kids standing in a circle, singing and dancing. Everyone greeted me with “bon arrive!” as I joined them. In the afternoon, I biked across town to visit my host family. I hadn’t seen my host mom and little brother in over a month. I remember the smile on my host dad’s face when I walked in the door - huge and welcoming, happy that I was home again. It was Tabaski, a major Muslim holiday. I visited my Muslim neighbor, Coulibaly, to say “bon fête” and they tried to get me to stay longer to eat some grilled lamb. When I saw my friend Mami there, she attacked me with a huge hug and kiss on the cheek. Finally, I stopped feeling like I was in some sort of hazy dream state. I biked home thinking, “this is why I am here.”

Here are some pictures to better describe this culture shock:

Paris

Heidi, CJ, n I

Lyss's face is priceless

Kati and I

Dabakala. Friday night, the beginning.

They asked to take our picture. I said, "only if I can take yours."

All the grandchildren dancing around the casket

Dishwashing Saturday morning

How many Ivorian women can one wagon carry?

What does it mean to follow Jesus?

2011-11-04T07:10:00.005-04:00

J’ai décidé de suivre Jésus
I have decided to follow Jesus
Pour toujours, pour toujours
No turning back, no turning back

I think back to August, when Naomi and I got baptized in the river behind the ICA campus. We stood on the river bank with all of the campus staff workers, as Sarah (an Ivorian sister in Christ) sang this song in French, and then in Bombara. What does it mean to follow Jesus?

Oswald Chambers excerpts from My Utmost for His Highest:

October 31st Then God withdrew his conscious blessings in order to teach you to walk by faith.

November 1st Why shouldn’t we go through heartbreaks? Through those doorways, God is opening up ways of fellowship with his son.

November 2nd The Lord does not give me rules. He makes his standard very clear, and if my relationship to Him is that of love, I will do what He says without any hesitation. If I hesitate, it is because I love someone else in competition him: myself. […] If I obey Jesus Christ in the haphazard circumstances, they become pinholes through which I see the face of God.

November 3rd “I am crucified with Christ; nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me.” (Galatians 2:20). These words mean the breaking of my independence with my own hand and surrendering to the supremacy of the Lord Jesus. […] Is He going to help Himself to us, or are we taken up with our conception of what we are going to be?

November 4th To act on the truth of God.. Once a man acts, he is never the same. It is the foolishness of it that stands in the way of hundreds who have been convicted by the Spirit of God. Once I press myself into action, I immediately begin to live. Anything less is merely existing.

God’s voice to me in this past week has been inescapable, irresistible. I wish I could describe it to you. I’ll try. It’s a little like trying to deny that morning has arrived when all you want to do is stay in bed, attempting to ignore a child who has her heart set on your attention, or trying to sleep at an all night veille when the balafones are playing in your ears.

I just arrived back in Cote d’Ivoire, after a week in Paris with the team I came with in October of 2010. We ate lots of cheese, enjoyed French wine, met some seriously awesome people, saw some of the beautiful city, and encouraged one another - sharing how we’ve seen one another grow in the past year. It was the perfect end to a year of God given fellowship. On the last night, my team encouraged me in my desire to go straight back to RCI, to follow Jesus no matter the cost. There were a lot of tears.

And as Monday, the 31st drew near, the day they would all get on a plane to the US, I started praying for God to prepare my heart. I asked for His strength and knowledge that He was in control. I prayed for a renewed passion for His people in Cote d’Ivoire. What He gave me proved that He is faithful.

Those excerpts from Chambers may seem like simply a list of statements, but they are what God has been speaking to me. I asked for comfort and strength, and He gave me freedom to follow Him. I am learning that sacrifice means more than I once thought. "You are not your own; you were bought with a price." (1Corinthians 6:19). And while it hurts to see my teammates leave, it hurts even more to give up my own plans. I guess I was holding onto them more closely than I realized.

But here is what this all comes down to: God is faithful. I expected to grieve for days over the loss of CJ, Jason, Chazz, Naomi, Heidi, and Holly (save Devin and Alyssa who are coming back). But, instead, God has moved me to pray continuously for them as they enter back into Western culture, with friends and family who don’t understand why they miss the sound of a balafone, peanut sauce, or their Ivorian families. And He has filled me with the sureness that I want nothing more than to live my life for the purpose of His redemption. I don’t know what that means yet. But I do have a stillness in my heart, a knowledge that my life is completely safe in His hands. Complete and utter surrender means that my plans may not work out, but I finally have the courage to believe that His are better. There are tears in my eyes, as I write this! Mostly from joy and realization that I am out of my mind, for the sake of Christ (2 Corinthians 5). I have a restless excitement in my bones. I know there is an adventure ahead. I’ve got nothing but the clothes on my back and Jesus as my companion.

Tonight, I’m going to Daboukallah, to attend an all night funeral, to celebrate the life of a major pastor in the Baptiste church, here in Cote d’Ivoire. Can’t think of any better way to jump back into Ivorian culture!

Prayer requests:

Heidi, CJ, Chazz, Devin, Alyssa, Holly, Naomi, and Jason as they enter back into the US. Pray that God will give them the words they need to describe their lives in RCI, and God will lead them into what’s next.

Alyssa and Devin as they prepare to come back at the end of this month.

Steve and Jessica Wilman who are coming to join us for 2 years at the end of this month!

On Tuesday (8th), I am taking a bus to Abidjan with my friends Timothee, Mai, and Tenan. On Wednesday, we’re going to Ghana until the 18th, to attend 2 conferences on business and leadership in West Africa. Pray that it will be a great time of fellowship and hearing from God

Pray for Cote d'Ivoire's rebuilding projects. As I rode through Bouake this morning on a moto, on my way to the internet cafe, I passed countless piles of rubble on the side of the road. Bulldozers are plowing down boutiques, clearing up the roads, and the city is planning to build a big market, like the one that burned down years ago. Crowds of people are just standing, watching it happen. It's sad, to see people's shops destroyed without their concent. Pray for the country's future.

The Ferke Mural Miracle

2011-10-10T13:53:00.008-04:00

Here’s the background story:

Ferké is a town in northern Cote d’Ivoire. The Mission Baptiste hospital is located there, well known because it was the only to stay open during the war. Several of our RCI missionaries work there. Ferké is also the cross-roads between Ouagadougou (Burkina Faso), Abidjan (Cote d’Ivoire), and Bamako (Mali) - 3 large capitals.

Glenn and Linn Boese live in Ferké . Glenn works at the hospital, and Linn has been working for over 30 years to learn the Nya?afolido language, and now translate the Bible into this language. They also teach Nya?afolido literacy. Linn grew up out here, first in Congo, and then in Ferké , at the hospital where her dad was a doctor. Glenn and Linn raised 3 kids here who are now back in the US.

Nya?afolido is a local language, part of the Senoufo language group. Originally from Mali, a few hundred years ago, they came down into Cote d’Ivoire. Legend has it, they were chased into the mountains. They hid in a cave, and a porcupine covered the hole, so they stayed there 3 days and nights before a deer put its hoof through the blockade and they saw the light of day. They were told to find somewhere with 3 rivers and 3 elevated places - modern day Ferké . Ny?afolido literally means “the language of the people who came out of the mountain.”

The story:

About a month ago, Linn contacted me to ask if I could come up to Ferké to help paint a mural of the Nya?afolido alphabet. They have a 50 meter long wall outside their mission center, situated in front of a public square. I jumped on the chance to paint, as I haven’t had many outlets for this passion of mine in the past year. I also jumped at the chance to spend time with Linn and Glenn. They are the type of people who fill you up to spend time with, soaking in their stories and the passion they have for their work. Before we started the mural, I had the opportunity to spend a night in a local Nya?afolido village, where Glenn and Linn have done language research, built a church, and found a family in the past 30 years. Ivorians have amazing hospitality, and I certainly felt like family.

As I took my bucket bath under the setting sun and then sat on the grass, watching the stars come out, one by one, I thought, “Stephanie, you are so far from home.” That day, I had been coming to grips with the fact that life isn’t about my dilemmas like where to go to grad school or what to do with my life. God’s far more concerned with how close I am to Him than where I go or what I do. It’s the motive He looks at. And as I was sitting there, surrounded by a chorus of crickets and the deep black of night, I felt the depth, the profundity of the fathomless God that I’ve believed in since I was a little girl. He began to fill me with a peace that cannot be measured.

On Saturday morning, we started the mural. Children trickled in and stayed there for hours, watching how we put pictures on the walls with a strange liquid most of them have never used. They were especially mesmerized by the mixing of paint. After the first day, I had to warn them all, in French, that if they touched the wall they would most likely die, because it was toxic. There is a partial truth to this - because it was oil paint and we used gasoline to wash off the brushes - but it was mostly a lie. A few boys took it upon themselves to spread the news, in Jula, for the kids who didn’t speak French.

Women would stop by, immediately recognizing their language, and light up with excitement as they saw a picture (a shirt, for example) and recognized the word below it, “burugo”. Not only did they feel pride in seeing their language written on the wall, but they could read it. A muslim man named Abraham came by, testing Linn on her Nya?afolido comprehension, asking things like, “why are you doing this?” or “why does it matter?” He said he would come back on Monday to pick up a copy of Genesis to learn more about his namesake, and he did. Others asked about the literacy projects, and it became evident that this mural would be a huge advertisement for their mission, as well as a betterment for the community. Countless women would stop by on their way to market, with basins full of vegetables or baskets on their heads, and men would pull up on their motorcycles, just to say, “C’est jolie!” (it’s pretty!) or “C’est bien fait” (It’s well done.).

We worked from 7 am until 6 pm with a break for lunch, Saturday, Monday and Tuesday, then for 3 hours Wednesday morning, and it was completed! A title page and 24 letters later (each being 6 feet by 6 feet), we had covered the wall. There were 8 of us in all: a 5 member short term team from Michigan (Courtney, Sarah, Robert, Matt, and Phil), Linn, and I, then Beal - an Ivorian who helped us with cultural color choice, paint mixing, brush cleaning, and communication. I found myself as a foreman of sorts, often the one who translated for Beal and other Ivorians between French and English, mixed colors, and, with Courtney, drew the mural on the wall. Looking back on it, I call it the “Mural miracle”, because we did not think it could be done in such short of time. Yet, on Tuesday night, we found ourselves nearly at the end. I turned to Beal and asked if he thought it could be done by dusk, and he said “avec de courage,” (with some courage). We finished with fresh energy the next morning.

Thursday morning, I sat in a Bible study with Linn and the men who work in her translation office (all Nya?afolilo). We read Psalm 27. I sat with men who have faced much harder lives than my own, yet we could all relate with a psalm that calls God the “stronghold” of our lives, (“notre fortress”, in French), whether in the face of sickness, sorcery, or war. Looking back on the past few weeks, I didn’t face any of these (except a minor case of strep throat), but I can see how I wasn’t focusing on Jesus - the only thing that is unchanging in my life. I looked forward in the Psalm to verse 8: My heart says of you, “Seek his face!” Your face, Lord, I will seek. I have been trying so hard to figure out all the little details, that I stopped doing this.. And then my heart cried out for patience and confident assurance in exchange for anxiety. I want to be a woman who trusts whole-heartedly that God is my stronghold. The whole point is that I seek His face, that I focus on Jesus and Him only. He said that He could destroy the temple and rebuild it in 3 days (which He did), He can move mountains (Matt 21:21), and now I know that He can make a mural happen in 3 days. I have no reason not to believe Him when He says: “I will instruct you and teach you in the way which you should go; I will counsel you with My eye upon you.” (Psalm 32:8).

Here’s some pictures from Ferké :

pictures from the village

courtney, linn, me and sarah

Here is the mural!

beal

Why oh why am I not coming home?

2011-09-24T08:54:00.004-04:00

This is an email I wrote to a good friend (slightly edited). It explains a lot of why I am staying here in Cote d'Ivoire for longer than a year. Enjoy!

Dear camarade,

When I started thinking about what to do after this year, going home seemed like the obvious choice. I get to see friends and family again, start grad school, move back into my comfortable environment. I'm not sure when it happened. I think it was during a conversation with CJ, but I started to feel the nudgings and whispers from God that I needed to seek Him in this decision process, not just go with what my heart felt was comfortable. Since when does God ask us to do what's comfortable? I mean, goodness gracious, He asks us to leave our father and mother and follow Him and He tells us we'll be strangers in this world. So, I started praying, giving Him the decision. Immediately, I felt a pull to seek out what staying here would look like. I was resistant. I didn't want to! But God asks us to take little steps - I had to first put my ideas for my future and my comfort on the altar, though secretly hoping God would provide the ram. So I did - and everything pointed towards raising support to stay here longer. In the littlest everyday conversations, I had no choice. This whole time, I am completely aware that God will love me the same no matter which decision I make: to stay or to go home. I really felt like God was leading me by the hand.. and I was dragging my feet a little, like a kid whose parents are telling her she doesn't need the barbie doll she really wants at the store (that was me as a kid). Thankfully, I'm past the whole crying fit ordeal. Then, one week at my wednesday night prayer meeting, just a few days after I sent out my support email, it hit me - I wasn't praying for that support letter. I was hoping God would provide the ram, and it's like I knew that not praying for it would mean it couldn't happen. I started praying, and my heart changed. I wanted to stay here, I wanted to do God's will, not my own. I started asking for forgiveness for not surrendering earlier. And I promise, it was an authentic surrender. Sometimes, we think giving up our own dreams is going to hurt, but in reality, taking on God's will is so much more liberating.

THEN, a few days later, I'm sharing with a friend on how I need a little miracle soon, so that I can know whether or not to get a plane ticket home. NEXT DAY, my mom calls me and says, "are you sitting down? your anonymous donor wants to give you $3,300." If that's not an answer to prayer, an honest "green light" for staying here, I don't know what is! The thing is, I could still choose to go home today, but if I do, I know that I'm going to miss the blessings that God has lined up for me in the next few months here in RCI.

God wants to use people who are willing and ready to go, but He wants to do it in His timing. God listens to our dreams and passions, and His are always bigger. I thought I was coming here for a year, God wants me to stay here longer. I wanted to go home, He's telling me to wait. I'll get there eventually, but just not in October. I don't even know when that will be. It looks like I have support into February. I know I've written this a ton already, but it's good, Luis Palau said, "the living sacrifice is every time my will crosses God’s revealed will, and I choose His will over against my own." Just keep seeking Him on this decision, and He'll reveal His will. But you need to have the future decisions already on the altar. When God sees that you have already surrendered your will to Him, He's likely to show you His will. I was just listening to a sermon on Jonah, and how he tried to run from God's will, but God made sure he got there eventually. But why did he have to end up in a fish first? Why are we so stubborn and steadfast with our own wills? I'm praying that God will make it clear what you should do, and that you can follow it, no matter if it's your ideal destination or not!

It's in moments like these, when God asks us to be brave and follow Him somewhere we are not ready to go alone, that we confront fears. One of my biggest fears is being left out. Guess who is the only one coming back here after Paris? me. Alyssa and Devin are support raising to come back, so they will be here (hopefully) within a month afterwards. But, I am the only one coming back right away. So when we talk about going home, it's difficult for me, because I'm not going there in a month and a half. Trusting God, dropping everything, and going to where He leads is tough stuff. Staying where you are when all you want to do is leave, is also tough stuff. I think, either way, God's going to teach you guys A LOT. You guys have already left a lot, and either way, God's gonna uproot you again. In times like this, I understand Paul, when he writes to the churches, sharing how they've been such a blessing but He has to leave them to go elsewhere. (and every place you go, you're still in people's hearts from the last place - like mine for example!) I am really excited for you guys, because I know you are following Him, and I know that when you do that, life is full of blessing (and struggle that leads to even greater blessing) and it's better than we could dream up for ourselves.

love, Steph

Future plans:
September 26 - October 4, 5 or 6
I'm going to Ferke to paint a mural of the Nyarafolo alphabet, to advertise that it's now written! The missionary couple that I'll be helping, are working to translate the Bible in Nyarafolo.

October 26 - November 2
Paris! I will be debriefing with my team for a few days before returning back to Cote d'Ivoire. I am the only one coming back right away, but 2 others (Devin and Alyssa) are raising support to come back within a month.

November 8 - 18
I'm hoping to travel to Ghana with Timothee, Mai, and Tenan (3 of my close friends from my church here in Bouake), to a conference for future West African leaders.

Prayer requests:
-Praise God that support is coming in
-Pray for smooth travels in the next few months
-Pray that I can get a Ghana visa without hastle
-Pray for Alyssa and Devin who are raising support to come back to RCI
-Pray for my grandfather in the states, for good health, he is currently in and out of the hospital. Pray that God would still his heart, clear his lungs, and give him energy.
-Pray for continued relationship building with my neighbors, the church and the girls at Centre Providence. Pray they would see Jesus in me.
-Pray for God's leading as I start the grad school application process
-Pray that I can be filled with peace that surpasses my understanding, in the face of struggles

We are family

2011-09-10T07:14:00.008-04:00

When I came here, I never imagined I’d be adopted into a new family. And if I did, I never thought our relationships would reach the point of struggle. Do you know what I mean by that? Ok, we all have relationships that are fairly surface level - your conversations never reach deep frustrations, and you let all your struggles with that person just slide off… because there’s no spaces there to fill, just surface. You never allow the bloody, messy stuff to be seen. BUT, once you do, that’s when the struggles come. When you are really authentic with people, it gets messy. I will share a few examples with you.

My sisters, Kolo and Manygi, had been sleeping in my room for a week because we had a family friend visiting who took their room. The day he left, I asked Kolo if she was going to sleep in her room again that night. She flipped a switch, accusing me of chasing her out of the room, you name it. Here in RCI, you don’t ask people when they’re going to leave. That translates to: “Get out.” In actuality, the room was jam packed with stuff and people, and I could barely move around, so yes, I wanted her to move back to her room.. Which is partially why I said it. The love that 1 Corinthians 13 asks us to live (patient, kind, slow to anger, no record of wrongs) becomes difficult with people you live with.. And impossible when you share a room. A few days later, I bought her a pagne and we went to see our friend Mami who makes clothes, so she could have an outfit for the wedding (scroll down for explanation). And dancing, chatting, and playing cards with Kolo are some of my favorite activities when I’m at the house. Now she’s living in my room again, and again I’m praying for more patience.

One night, my host mom asked me to throw my orange peel outside. I can be sensitive.. As anyone who has really gotten to know me should understand. And when she asks me to do things, it’s more of a demand, and a question, like, “why didn’t you throw that outside? Don‘t you know, that‘s what you do here?” I got visibly frustrated, and went outside. When my host dad got home, we had an informal “meeting”. It started with Kadi and I both really frustrated (I accidentally cried), and ended with the shaking of hands and apologies. It was rather formal, with Bakary as our mediator (a very culturally appropriate way of handling it), explaining that he wants peace in his house and that we were going to work out our differences. I was able to explain that there will always be things which I do not yet understand here, and ask her to speak to me with more patience. She told me she didn’t like when I get mad and walk out of the room. I told her I would work on being slow to anger.

On Thursday, my host parents got married. Yep. It’s true, they were already married, about 8 years ago. That was traditionally, with their parents present, in the village. They were not, however, married under law. This is a pretty foreign concept to us in the US, but it’s common here. So, we had a ceremony at the legal marriage office, then at ICA (our program’s base here in Bouake). About a month ago, they shared with me the plan. I offered to make the cake, thinking it was a small “shindig” at the house. But it quickly blew up into about 150 people and a full ceremony. And then it was Chazz and I directing the show - decorations, food, chairs, sound system. I was so happy to help and serve them after all they’ve given and done for me over the past 8 months. But man, I don’t think I’m cut out to be a wedding planner!

The thing is, all of this - these joys and struggles - would not happen if we weren’t family. I am learning to love the messy stuff, because when it is present, that means the relationships are real and authentic, not just that surface level bogus. I am part of a legit, Ivorian family, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Here’s some photos of my family, since a picture describes our relationship a whole heck of a lot better.

Manygi, David, Emanuel, and I Kolo is ridiculous.. I love it.
The Wedding! Dancing with Kadi, on her way to see Bakary.
Kolo and I
Senoufo dancing
I was trying to get the cake out of her mouth Gorgeous, right?
Chazz and I
This describes our relationship. He is ridiculous and he makes me laugh a lot.
David and Emanuel - so sapé! (snazzy)Bakary and KadiWe are family

Tanti, c'est comment?

2011-08-25T07:06:00.016-04:00

One of the biggest joys in my life these days has been my ministry at Centre Providence. The first time I came to the school, back in December, I was clueless to what anyone was saying or doing. Now, I can be and joke with the girls in a way that they understand! If you’ve ever lived in a cross-cultural context, you will understand that to be able to joke in another language, in another culture, is a HUGE step. The girls call me “tanti Stephanie”, and “c’est comment” is sort of like, “what‘s up?”

The girls at Centre Providence are coming out of various sex trafficking situations (ages 10 - 18). Some were forced into prostitution at a very young age, while others were sexually violated by neighbors or members of their own family. They come to the school to learn basic reading, writing, and math as well as positive values and morals that they may not have been taught previously. They play sports, sing, dance, and create artwork. The social workers at the school visit their families biweekly, and every day, the teachers and social workers meet to talk about the girls’ progress. After a year or two, when a girl is ready, she starts an internship with a hair dresser or tailor in her neighborhood, a job which she can do for the rest of her life. I am finally able to comprehend their language and situations, and I feel I have built a level of trust with the girls and with the other teachers. I am an integrated part of the team. Tuesday mornings, I have about an hour to lead a drawing activity with some of the girls. I have also started co-leading a painting class with another teacher at the school. But mostly, I share in life with them, whether that’s eating rice and sauce, playing handball, talking about STDs, letting them braid my hair or sleeping on a straw mat after lunch.

I think they saw me as a foreign alien at first. They even asked me questions like "are you albino?" or, "did you change your skin color like Michael Jackson?" And when they don't understand my French, they'll turn to each other and ask, "do you know what she's saying? I can't understand her." The thing is, those girls add SO MUCH to my life. One girl, Nathalie, has decided she's my daughter. At lunch one day, I stole her bowl of rice and passed it to a table behind me. For a good 5 minutes, she was searching for it, and saying "tanti, je n'aime pa ca." (tanti, I don't like that.), while I'm laughing. The other girls involved thought it was a pretty good prank. Another day, we had a conversation about how she doesn't have any friends she can really confide in. She does have a sister, however, and I had a chance to ask her about their relationship, which sounds like it's a positive one. These pictures below are what a normal Friday morning looks like. After we clean the center, we play handball and dance to the beat of the tom-tom.

Awa and Dorothee For a few Tuesdays now, I’ve led an art therapy task called a “bridge drawing”. I ask them to draw a bridge. To the left, they draw their past, whether it be a job, house, or someone they knew. The bridge is the present, their time here at Centre. After the bridge, I ask them to imagine their future - the trade they will learn at the end of their time there, a family, whatever it may be. I have noticed that a lot of these girls cannot see the future. I ask them 2, 3 times to draw it, but its nearly impossible for some of them. Some, but not all, of the girls have included their past in prostitution in their drawings. One girl told me there were only things she didn't like in her past, so I asked her if she could draw that, and she said ok. After every class, I write comments in French on the back of the drawings, based on what the girls have told me and what I see. This new class has given me an opportunity to take a leadership role, which improves my French, my trust relationship with my colleagues, and my relationship with the girls. I have started teaching a painting class with 7 girls every Tuesday afternoon, with my colleague, Madeline. These girls have never painted in their lives, but they are catching on fast and loving it. I can't explain the amount of joy I find in teaching these girls. One of them, Awa, has no fingers on her left hand, but she has a natural artistic ability. I hope she can gain a confidence in herself through this painting class. My supervisor, Jean Noel, talked about holding an art gallery for the girls’ artwork during the next fete (party) that we have! I can't wait. Below are two of the bridge drawings produced by the girls.

Here are some more pictures from the recent kids day we had at the church. Dancing, singing.

Timothee and Chazz

All the monitors and I, recieving encouraging awards at church.

Saturday's wedding - 2 of the youth from the church got married.

Alyssa and I. I went to Abidjan this past week to get some visa things taken care of. First sight of the ocean since I got here!

Everyday Occurences

2011-08-11T06:51:00.011-04:00

I walk into the courtyard door to my little brother, David, saying, “Il y a porc!” (There’s pork!). And there, sitting on a rice sac on the ground, is the head of a pig. It was probably killed a few hours earlier. Yum.

I saw my host mom, Kadi, crushing up piment (little hot peppers), late one night, after we’d already eaten. I asked why. She told me that Bakary said there wasn’t enough in the sauce already, so he threw it up. I asked what was wrong, and she threw up her hands. “He’s like a pregnant woman!” she said with exasperation. I laughed. She said that if I marry someone like him, I’m going to suffer lots. Guess no one finds marriage easy.

One night, there was a lunar eclipse. You could hear people marching through the streets, banging pots and pans. My host dad told me the traditional belief is that a cat caught the moon, and one must scare it away with all the noise. My sister, Kolo, was scared when she saw it, and I likened it to our belief in werewolves. I explained to her that the moon is hidden in the earth’s shadow - something she has never had the opportunity to learn, having left school at the age of 9. In her mind, something’s wrong with the moon, a scary thought, seeing that it’s this mysterious, far-off shape in the sky.

One of the teachers at Centre Providence gave me a piece of sugar cane chute. She demonstrated peeling off the sides and sucking the juice out of the pulpy insides. I got home and sat on the front porch, cutting off pieces and sharing it with my siblings. It’s called “cané sucre” in French. There’s nothing like drinking natural sugar out of a plant.

The first time I went to church with my hair braided, my friend Mai saw me and said I wasn’t leaving Côte d’Ivoire, ever. I need to stay here now. She said I can marry her older brother. But when Susanne heard that, she said her brother was a better catch. The two argued over which one I should marry.

Every Wednesday night, I have a prayer meeting with the other people from church who live in our neighborhood. We pray for one another in 3 languages: English, French, and Senoufo. Often, when praying for good health, Ivorians call out to God saying, “you are the ultimate maribou.” A maribou is a traditional Ivorian healer, who traditionally, people went to for wisdom, good health, and even revenge. Mariam, one of the women who speaks only Senoufo, asked us to pray for a marriage decision regarding a young girl who lived in her house. She said that before, she would have gone to a maribou, but now, she seeks God for wisdom and direction.

My neighbor, and a good friend of my host-dad, Coulibaly, stops by once a day, and he usually calls me by “mon petit coeur” or “my love”. I’ve cycled through excuses for why I can’t marry him. He’s already married with 2 kids, he’s not a Christian (he’s Muslim), he’s too old for me (38), I’m not ready for marriage, I want to be free like a bird, I can’t and won’t make cabato or futu (2 staples of the Ivorian diet).. The list goes on. I’m 99% positive he’s not serious.

One night after dinner, the power went out. The kids and I were in the courtyard, and it seemed like the best opportunity to tell scary stories. So I made up one about a girl who went to the well.. But something caught the bag as she pulled it up. I gave them a good scare. Then, Manygi took a turn. She was 5 lines in, when our neighbor, Yao, made a growling sound from the window of our courtyard wall. Everyone screamed, including me, and all 4 kids were all at once on my lap (I was sitting on a little wooden footstool). As soon as we realized it was him, we all died laughing.

Last week we had a seminar, and 2 new girls (Kelly and Tricia) joined our Journey Corps team. Wednesday, we all came to my house and fried up a ton of ignames and alloko (plantains) with a spicy sauce they call “piment“. It was like a block party. Heidi, Naomi, and I worked with my sisters to cut everything up, and the 5 of us worked together for a few hours straight (from 4 to 6:30), to fry it up, in two skillets over charcoal fires. All of us, plus my host family, and a few other friends, made about 20 people. Aaron and Chris, from the Colorado side of our program, were visiting, and they documented the whole thing. I felt a little like I was on a reality TV show, in an awesome way.

I asked Sarah to teach me a worship song in Jula, the local language that she speaks. She and her husband (both Ivorian) make meals for us when we have seminars at Ecole Baptiste. So one afternoon, she wrote down two songs for me, and we sat on the kitchen floor, rearranging the Tupperware together, singing in Jula. Sarah has a beautiful voice, she traveled in Mali with a theater group during the war. She has the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. She’s one of those people that you feel an immediate connection to, no matter your ethnicity. She’s also one of the few Ivorians that I hug on a regular basis. The first song goes like this:

Matigi Jehova Ka Senu (Lord Jesus is holy)
A Bonyogen te Senumaya la (There’s no one like Him)
Serafin ba Wele su ni tilen, (The angels call him day and night)
Senu, senu, senu. Senuma ye (Holy, holy, holy, He is holy)
Matigi Jehova ye. (He is the Lord Jesus)

We are in the middle of a morning study on the book of Acts with Pastor Keo, chatting about baptism, when Naomi and I are both struck with the importance of baptism as a profession of your faith. We were both baptized as babies, but it wasn’t a choice. Stories like the Ethiopian Eunuch, who heard the word of God then was baptized, mixed with the degree of importance of baptism here in our churches, brought it to light. So, that afternoon, we went down to the river, in the middle of the African bush, and were baptized by Keo. Sarah led worship songs, in French and Jula. A lot of our Ivorian campus family came, including Songimay, my favorite little 5 year old girl. The setting, I imagine, wasn’t too far off from some of the baptisms in Acts. I have never before been full of such joy.

Pictures taken by Chris and Aaron. At our "block party" and the baptism.

I'm an Ivorian woman now

2011-07-23T13:29:00.011-04:00

Well.. not exactly. But I did get my hair braided like one! 24 hours (8 hours of actual braiding), a very tight scalp, and 3 packets of mesh later, ta daaa! It's been a big hit. People's faces light up when they see me. I love it! These pictures are for your enjoyment!

What can wash away my sins..

2011-07-05T07:30:00.011-04:00

Nothing but the blood of Jesus

On sunday, my church had a baptism ceremony, and 4 of my friends were baptised! The church I am a part of is baptist, and full emersion baptism as an adult is super important, and highly celebrated. So at 8 am, we had the ceremony. Balafones were playing, people were dancing. And then we worshipped God in the service directly after. It was great. Here are some pictures!

Mai, dancing to the balaphon on her way into the water

People were crowded on the walls and clumps of dirt surrounding the bapteme

Julie. I'm pretty sure the water was a bit cold.Mai and I! She's Timothee's cousin, and a good friend of mine.

Leiah and I!

Family photo: Timothee, Leiah (his fiance), Mai, and two sisters

The balaphon players, in the crowd around the bapteme.

What an amazing morning! That afternoon, I went to Timothee and Mai's house and ate lots of yummy food. I soaked in the fellowship with my friends from church.. that's right, friends! Never thought I'd be able to say that here! At least, with Ivorians. Cultural gaps can be so hard to cross. I'm blessed to finally be at this point.

More photos: Here are some photos of all the recent fetes (parties).

Emmanuel's birthday and more with my host family

A trip to Lataha and more photos with my Journey Corps team

If you haven't read my last blog on my thoughts for next year, please do! I am so thankful for your thoughts and prayers! ,Steph

So what's next?

2011-07-02T07:38:00.008-04:00

I have been agonizing over this question for weeks. Ok, maybe agonizing is a strong word. More often it goes like this: I think about it, I run the other way, burry my head in the present, and keep skipping along. I have now been in Cote d’Ivoire for 8 months. With the days of, “Yeah! I’m goin’ to Africa for a year!” gone, the time of projects and decisions is here. Life with my family is now normal, filled with dancing on the porch almost nightly, belly laughs, and deep conversations that I‘ve yearned for since the day I arrived. I have friends my age who I cannot imagine life without, who I walk home with, visit and eat their rice and peanut sauce. I finally feel comfortable and integrated at Centre Providence, like I’m part of something. Last week, we had a 3 hour, deafening rainstorm, and we all slept, huddled together on straw mats, under pagnes, until it was over. I am blessed to be a part of these communities, these mutually encouraging relationships.

Here’s where I’m going to try my best to be incredibly honest, in hopes that you can understand and pray through this with me. Ready?

Living here is easier and harder every day. Yes, I’m habituated and I cherish these new relationships, but the numerous marriage proposals, health issues, and expectations placed on me as an American are sometimes heavy. One missionary described himself as “the ‘poor’ rich man,” (R. Mitchell). I’m not rich by my standards, but by theirs, I am loaded. On one hand, I cannot ignore the material poverty of the world around me, because I live in it. I am forced to obey Jesus’ call to “clothe and feed Him,” (Matt 25). On the other hand, the amount of people who ask me if I have any medicine for their ailments grows every day. Thank goodness there’s grace, because even though I am more aware of real poverty everyday, it doesn’t make it any easier to know what to do about it all.

I am in the process of helping to create 2 projects within the previously mentioned communities. The first is an assistance fund for widows in my church. Living in this culture helps me to understand James 1:27. Widowed women and orphaned children are low on the totem pole of society, often left without a means to provide food for their families. The idea is that we (the church) can work alongside the widows to create small business (such as selling attieke or charcoal) which can give them a way to continuously provide for their needs. The second is with the girls at Centre Providence. I am finally able to comprehend their language and situations, and I feel I have built a level of trust that will allow me to lead a few art projects with the girls in the next few months. I’m working with the teachers now, to map out ideas and find supplies.

You see, the benefits of staying here a little longer, for even a few more months, seem great when I stop to see that these ministries are only just starting. The question is: Is that what God really wants from me for this year, or is that what I wanted? Maybe he brought me here to do a lot of work in ME (and he has), and just to see only a little bit of what I thought I was coming here for (helping to bring healing through art making). I thought I was coming here to do something great, because that’s what missionaries do, right? Turns out, we are all here to be transformed by God’s love, and to show it to others. That doesn’t always entail grand chose (big things) or recognition.

There’s also this thing I wanted to do when I got home, called Grad School (for Art Therapy/Counseling). I still do believe that God is leading me in this direction, though I have entertained the thought that He wasn’t. I’d like to start that in the fall of 2012. This coupled with a nugget of advice that Rod, our program director of sorts, gave us - that if you go home to raise money to come back, it’s gonna take longer than a month, and you should probably come back long-term - makes me think that a full second year or more is not for me right now. Why? It’s not part of my next step. After grad school, marriage, and a few other things, yes (whether that‘s in the States, Africa, or somewhere else). But in all honesty, I’m just not there yet. And I can say that, with faith and confidence.

I have been reading Romans, and I can’t get past chapter 12. What is a living sacrifice? “A living sacrifice, the death of Jesus (2 Corinth. 4:10), the grain of wheat falling into the ground and dying (John 12:24), taking up the cross (Matt 16:24) - all teach the same biblical principle. Every time my will crosses God’s revealed will, and I choose his will over against my will, that is the living sacrifice, that is the death of Jesus at work in me, that is the grain of wheat falling to the ground and dying, that is taking up the cross.” I ask myself, which of these aforementioned feelings are my own notions and am I letting any of them contradict God’s revealed will? Also, is it revealed, or am I still to be patient?

Ok, breathe. All of this was swirling around in my head a few days ago. Then one night, up in Korhogo, I looked up at the stars - the brightest and clearest I've seen here yet - and felt God saying to me, "LOOK HOW BIG I AM! Do you think that these projects and decisions bigger than me? Stop being so silly and just trust me." Alright, I can do that. Ok friends, thanks for stepping into my mind for a bit, and please be praying through all of this with me. And always feel free to let me know how I can pray for you! I would also like to ask for comments and emails, feedback, stories, as I'm working through this. Love, Steph.

Here's a few photos to lighten the mood:

Group shot in Korhogo

Holly and Jason, jumpin'

Heidi with some kids
From the top of the mountain we climbed in Korhogo

Alyssa, me, Holly, sporting matching pagnes for Alyssa's b-day.
Kolo and David, with Kolo's yummy fried coconut

Perseverance

2011-06-21T10:38:00.011-04:00

Life has been a series of highs and lows. I’m reminded everyday, that when the struggle is great, so is the joy.

The water is often cut here in Bouake, and the city never bothers to inform its residents. It was recently out for a little over a day, just long enough to run out of our reserve and take the long trek to fill up our yellow jugs of water at the neighborhood well. You don’t realize how much water you normally use until every filled tomato can counts (liter tomato cans are our method of carrying water at the house). Then, when the long awaited water comes, relief floods your mind. Last time, I cheered, “whoooo! L’eau est venu!” And my little brother Emmanuel laughed and laughed.

Often, I visit widows with my pastor on Wednesdays. One particular Wednesday, I had been at Centre Providence all day and I biked home in the rain to meet the pastor on time, with a beating headache and earache. Now, common sense would tell you to stay home in such a state, but I decided to go anyway. We proceeded to drive to the furthest corners of Bouake, all the while my energy was disappearing by the minute. Then, as night was falling, we drove to Belleville 3, a neighborhood that I didn‘t know existed. The moto took us down several windy dirt paths through fields of ignames, peppers, and other vegetables. We arrived at a house, surrounded by fruit trees and palms, the gate decorated with brilliant, colorful pots of flowers. Inside, we found a woman washing sweet potatoes in a large basin, wearing mismatching pagnes and a bright smile. She has 7 kids, all in school, the littlest being 7 years old. We sat on small wooden stools while she expressed her gratitude for our coming, just to say “bon soir”. As we prayed for her, her son assumed the “down dog” yoga position, and laughed when we were finished (for whatever reason). Baby chicks ran under my legs, rushing to find their mother, as the sun descended behind the horizon. I wish I could describe this setting better, but to me, being there at this woman’s house made the entire day worth it. It left me with an incredible sense of joy.

A few weeks ago, Kadi’s tanti came to visit (her mother’s sister). She only spoke Senoufo, and she was fond of talking to me.. In Senoufo. I was glad she wanted to chat, but frankly, I didn’t understand a word. I’d pick up small sounds from my limited vocabulary, and my sister or mother would often translate. I knew that when she said “kolocholo” (God), it was usually a blessing, and so I would respond with “amina”, and I understood her basic greetings. One night, she started pointing at my host sisters, then she’d hold her nose, move her hands as if she was splashing water and scrubbing her arms, then wave her finger back and forth as if to say “no”. What she was saying was “Kolo and Emanigi, they don’t wash themselves. They smell.” So I reciprocated the motions, to confirm the joke. The girls rolled on the floor laughing, as did I, with tears in my eyes. Then she sang (in Senoufo) as Kolo and I danced around the courtyard. Soon, Kadi (my host mom) joined us as well. Kolo would start a traditional Ivorian dance, and I’d do my best to mirror her. For almost all of their dances, the butt is crucial. You must know how to move it correctly. I’m getting better at this. Every now and then, someone walking by would peek their head in the window of our wall and watch me, the white girl, try to dance. I’m quickly learning not to let my skin color make me self-conscious. People are going to gawk at me no matter what I do, so I might as well be myself and act like a fool, right? I’d been feeling a disconnection from my host mom, for several reasons. Really, they all stem back to the fact that we come from COMPLETELY different cultures, and there is no way we’ll ever understand each other or be able to fullfill each other’s expectations. This is the struggle. But dancing together made it melt away, and for me, it healed all divides. I think that dancing is one of the love languages of an Ivorian. It brings a sense of togetherness and joy that is unexplainable.

Last week, I was riding my bike to my house, when I encountered a herd of cattle, traversing the path I wanted to take. You can’t just ride right through them. They’re big, heavy, and they have very large horns. But I was in a hurry to get home before sunset. I looked at the shepherd boy who was standing to my left, and said, “je peux..” (“I can..”) and before I finished, he said, “oui, tu peux. Doucement.” (“yes, you can, slowly (sweetly)”). So we walked through the herd, step by step, together. The cows were crossing the road, so it was a little like walking through a steady stream, carefully, so that you do not lose your footing. Sure enough, the cows deviated around us, and before I knew it, I was on the other side. Now, that morning, I was stressed out from a meeting at church, and I couldn’t see how things would fall into place. Everything seems to be happening at once, concerning projects and decision making. This story explains how I felt emotionally, better than I could try to say it myself. I was afraid of everything that is on my plate right now, because I know I can’t do it all alone. But Jesus is our shepherd, and he is waiting to walk with me through it all. I laughed at myself as I rode away from the herd of cattle and the shepherd boy, realizing how obvious of an illustration God had just shown me. Again, I was filled with joy, and hope.

These are just a few examples. Why is this blog called perseverance? Because, you need to persevere through the struggle to find the joy. Without the struggle, there would be no joy, but just complacency. I prefer the joy and struggle any day.

Speaking of joy, here's some photos of Emmanuel's birthday party on Saturday.

Fete-ing it up

2011-06-18T06:25:00.019-04:00

It seems to be the season for fetes (parties), here in Cote d'Ivoire! I love it! The first, we had a fete at Centre Providence this past thursday. This first photo is of Devine and I. This girl is hilarious. I think she should do stand-up.

Odrian and Sarah, dancin' it up! The dj had the music pumping, and those girls love to dance!

Francios, Aisha, and Sarah

Elliane and I.

An aerobics routine some of the girls prepared.

We had a party for the kids from Djamborou and Belleville churches at Ecole Baptiste. Lots of games, dancing, singing, and eating. We easily had close to 200 kids, it was great!

Here's a sponge throw game I made for the kids. They got a kick out of it.

Grace and I. She's Chazz and Devin's little sister, from Belleville

Rod carted the little guys around in a trailor hooked to a four-wheeler. Great.

Finally, June 1st was my birthday. I wasn't expecting much. Ivorians don't make a big deal about birthdays like we do. My sister washed my clothes for me, and I considered that my gift. But then, my whole team came in Bouake! They hopped on a bus from Korhogo and showed up at the ice cream shop where we were meeting for an afternoon snack. It was the perfect surprise! THEN, they prepared a costume dinner party for me! Talk about the best birthday ever.

Chazz and I

birthday candles

the bunch!

And a traditional jumping shot

Still more fetes go come! Tonight, I'm celebrating my little brother, Emmanuel's birthday! He's 8. I made a cake, which is super special for Ivorians, since most don't have ovens. We're gonna dance lots! And my host mom told me she's making popcorn, bisap, and spaghetti - all special treats here in CI. As always, thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy the photos!

Almandine

2011-06-01T07:11:00.004-04:00

…Is the name of a girl at Centre Providence. She goes out every night, with a guy - the same guy, to the maquis (local night life) and then to bed. She comes home at midnight or 1 am. He pays. She says if she has a baby, she’ll give it away to someone. Her first thought was that he will help her raise it. But when asked if she’s seen that happen to other girls her age (16) who have gotten pregnant, she says no. But somehow, she has come to believe that he loves her, and of course that’s the reason why he comes to get her every night.. Right? And every time he does come, she feels needed, wanted, and that is a good feeling. We all want to feel wanted and needed, and it’s easy to mistake want for love, especially when you don’t get that from people very often. Almandine is a smart, fiery girl. She’s talkative, always making jokes, and she‘s got quite the attitude. But when he comes to call tonight, she’ll go. She wants to appease him, because if she doesn’t, she might lose that “love”, or rather, the want disguised as love. She lives in fear that she’ll lose that reassurance. My heart breaks for her, because I’ve lived for the same reassurances, I understand what she yearns for. When will she learn that human want, even human love, has nothing on God’s unconditional love. He doesn’t ask for our compliance first. No, He loves us anyway.

“In love there can be no fear, but fear is driven out by perfect love: because to fear is to expect punishment, and anyone who is afraid is still imperfect in love. We love because He first loved us.” (1 John 4:18,19)

An excerpt from The Ragamuffin Gospel, my latest read:
“The desire to feel loved is the last illusion: let it go and you will be free.” Just as the sunrise of faith requires the sunset of our former unbelief, so the dawn of trust requires letting go of our craving spiritual consolations and tangible reassurances. Trust at the mercy of the response it receives is bogus trust. All is uncertainty and anxiety. […] She pleads for proof that affection is returned. If she does receive consolation, she is reassured only for a time. She presses for further proofs, each less convincing. The need to trust dies of frustration. Tangible reassurances, however valuable they may be, can’t create trust, sustain it, or guarantee certainty of its presence. Jesus calls us to hand over our autonomous self in unshaken confidence. When the craving for reassurance is stifled, trust happens.

“Because of the Lord’s great love, we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself , “the Lord is my portion, therefore, I will wait for him.” Lamentations 3:22-24

Here’s a little of what’s been on my heart lately. I hope this makes you think as much as it does me.

On a completely different note, it’s my BIRTHDAY today! 23 and feeling free, as my teammate Heidi would say. Soo, here’s a gift for you all, I finally got some more photos up on Picasa! Enjoy!

Our recent trip to Burkina Faso.

Every day life with my family.

A wedding, church, and the pottery village.

Dependence, humility, and worry

2011-05-26T17:33:00.005-04:00

I am overdue for one of these. Organization seems impossible right now, so I’m going to give you a series of anecdotes and lessons I’m learning.

1. Dependence.

About 3 weeks ago now, I went up to Ferke to have Dr. Jen look at the growing cyst on my back, at Hopital Baptiste. She squeezed everything out, and I just about passed out from pain. I haven’t gone very long here without everyday medical treatments. I’ve gone from mourning over the inconvenience of applying products 3 times a day to ring worm, to relying on someone else to put medicine and gauze on my cyst wound. I just always seem to need someone else’s help. Add this to a limited French vocabulary and nearly nonexistent Senoufo or Jula, an only basic understanding of the culture, and it’s hard to be completely independent here. I love being independent, so this is hard for me (if you couldn’t tell).

“The remnant of Israel, the survivors of the house of Jacob, will no longer rely on him who struck them down but will truly rely on the Lord, the Holy One of Israel,” (Isaiah 10:20). In Deuteronomy 9, God tells the people of Israel 3 times, “it is not because of your righteousness that the Lord your God is giving you this good land to possess, for you are a stiff-necked people.” God reminds them of how they turned away and made a golden calf, while Moses was on the mountain meeting with Him. Yet God accepts them back, telling them to love Him and serve Him with all their heart and soul (Deut. 10:12). He tells them to write His word on their doorframes, tie them to their hands, bind them to their foreheads, and teach them to their children while they walk on the road (11:18). God knows we’re not capable of keeping His word on our own, or else we’ll make a golden calf out of our jewelry in no time, and turn from Him to worship it.

I am surely capable of this. Clothes, money, food, guys, my own righteousness - even here I turn to worship these things. And it’s these struggles that remind me of my reliance on God. Cysts on my back, straining to understand sermons, and my own yearning for relationship - these all lead me back to my dependence on God somehow. The thing is, God loves when we depend on Him. We were made for this type of reliance. So why am I so quick to be independent, even of my creator?

2. Humility

Yesterday afternoon, I sat in my courtyard, washing my clothes and sheets with a basin, a bucket, and a bar of soap. My host mom and sister like to laugh at me - my French, the way I wash clothes, you name it. And so they did, a lot! It’s kind of like when you think the foreign exchange student from Russia has a funny accent, and they do everything differently in Russia, so you like to laugh at the way she walks and eats too. Kadi, my host mom, also asked me why I don’t spend my money (assuming that I have an ample amount), and Kolo started on a continuous string of cockroach jokes, because she knows they freak me out(with good reason). I got so frustrated, and all I could do was give it to God. Then, when I finally sat down to journal, Kadi asked me to take the kids for a haircut.. I was tired and resisted, but took them in the end. Afterwards, Emanigi (10 years old) went back to the house to wash the dishes.. She had been up since 5 am, cooking and cleaning, and was still going. Here I was complaining that I’d washed and cleaned all afternoon, and then had to take the kids to get a haircut. I prayed for an attitude adjustment at dinner.

3. We worry for nothing

I have lots of questions. What in the world will I do after Africa? Will I go home after this? Will I come back again? Will I go to grad school? Who and when will I marry? While I’m here, what will I do with my project money, with the girls at Centre Providence? Goodness gracious. The God of all creation must think I’m RIDICULOUS. Thank goodness, “neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord,” (Romans 8:38-39).

A very dear friend recently wrote me a card, and put this verse in it: “So do not throw away your confidence, it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised.” In the face of these worries, I tend to lose confidence. Add that to hot humid weather, rice for 3 meals, and other uncomforts that are bearable until other frustrations build up. Then I read Hebrews 12: “No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. Make level paths for your feet, so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed.” I LOVE this picture. I just stop and tell myself, "steph, strengthen your arms and knees, and get over it, keep going!"

Another friend here recently told me that they have seen in me a growing ability to have joy in the midst of struggle. I thought he was talking about someone else for a minute, because this is only something that God has instilled in me. “The greatest honor we can give the Almighty God is to live gladly because of the knowledge of His love,” (from The Ragamuffin Gospel). I want people to say that I live gladly because of His love.

I hope you can glean something from that ramble. Here are a few pictures from my recent Burkina Faso trip! The first is our team, standing in front of the sign for the animal reserve where we stayed for 2 nights. (top: Devin, Rod. bottom: Alyssa, Holly, Naomi, Chazz, CJ, Heidi, me, Jason).

Elephants! They walked right up to where we were sitting! They're so beautiful up close.

Oh la vie..

2011-04-16T05:32:00.018-04:00

Now that I've been living with the Kone Bakary family for 2 months, they mean a lot more to me than a name. I tried to do my best here to show that.

Back: Emanigi, Nani, Emanuel

Front: Musa, Kolo, David

My bike, with Mohammed, a neighborhood kid, on the rack.

Kadi. Mother of 2 boys (but houses 4 + me), cook, sells charcoal (in the bottom photo, she had just gone to the village to bring back 40 sacks), makes bisap, baobob, and other sorts of homemade popsicles to sell at school at 7 am, 10 am, and 3 pm. She is an African supermom.

Bakary. Father and teacher (for elementary school age, and for me). This picture was taken by accident by Emanuel.. But I think it shows his personality pretty well. This is his “explaining” visage.. Which he does a lot with me! He’s very loving about it.

View from the door, of people dancing through the streets, the day Gbagbo was arrested. Djik! The smaller of our 2 dogs in the courtyard.

Kolo. She is 14 and unafraid to speak her mind. “Kolo, tu parles trop,” (Kolo, you talk too much), and “tu as foulle” (you are crazy), are things I say to her a lot. She dances on a regular basis and sings songs in Senoufo with my name in them, so I all I understand is “da da da Stephanie da da da”. But without her life would be uninteresting. In the bottom photo, we were washing our clothes together in the courtyard. It’s those moments that I look forward to the most.

Emanigi. She says she’s 9, but doesn’t know when her birthday is, so she is most likely 10. Her laugh warms your heart, and when she cries, it kills you. She’s the first to run up and hug me when I’ve been gone, and the last to whisper “bonne nuit” through my window at night. She’s living with our family so that she can go to school here. She’s told me that, in the village, her mom hit her, and that if she stayed, she would have been circumcised at the age of 11. Thankfully, she is welcomed into warm arms here as part of the family.

Emanuel. He is 7. His new favorite game is Uno. He whines a lot and asks too many questions, but he adores me and so I do my best to remind myself of how nagging and questioning I was as a child. That changes my attitude pretty quick. In the top photo, he was dancing for me on the front porch (yes, in his towel, he was on his way to wash).

David. He just turned 6 on Tuesday! We ate peanut butter cookies, sang and danced. This little guy is one of the greatest joys in my life, even though he drives me crazy. You can see him climbing a wall in one of these photos, stunts like that are things that he pulls every 5 minutes, and then says “Stephanie! Reguarde!” (Look!)

The joy in struggle

2011-04-02T04:35:00.004-04:00

5 months since I came to Cote d’Ivoire. Crazy. This blog is long, but it is good. I promise.

Yesterday morning, I went with Angelika, Holly, and Kadi (my host mom), to visit a woman from church who recently lost her husband. She’s young, with 5 kids, the youngest is still breast-feeding. We walked to a cartier on the outskirts of Bouake, past gardens and single cell cement houses. The woman only spoke Senoufo, so Kadi translated for us, from French. She said that if it wasn’t for brothers and sisters from church, coming to visit her, she would have given up on God. Being a woman here with 5 kids and no husband is impossible. Thankfully, she has some family members living with her, but even they don’t have jobs to pay for the family’s needs. I was filled with compassion for her, and frustration with my own life.

Goodness gracious, God, forgive me for complaining, ever! Who am I? I am blessed beyond what I deserve, yet my thoughts are pretty much always consumed with material things. I want to spend my life, my time, my energy, where it matters.

Living in the midst of poverty teaches you what is most important in life. My family has enough money for our needs, but not much more than that. I have a little money here, $100 per month, though for the past 2 months, I’ve lived on about $40 a month. I want to hide that from my friends and family here, because I don’t want to be seen as the rich American, but that’s what I am, my skin color announces that. About once a week, my 7 year old brother asks me for money. “Pourquoi?” I ask. “Rien,” he says (“nothing”). I can help, but it’s hard to figure out how or when. For instance, this morning, Angelika took the woman and her daughter to the doctor, to get her medicine. The child’s stomach was bloated and she complained of it hurting (most likely a mix of worms and malnutrition), and the inside of her eyelids were white, a sign of anemia, possibly caused by malaria. Medication for Palu (malaria) is 10,000 CFA ($20), but there is no way this woman could afford that on her own, let alone the other treatments needed for her daughter.

I’m learning to live what God asks of us in Isaiah 58: “If you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness [..] The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land.”

The Bible tells us that as we share in Christ’s joy, we must also share in His suffering. Me, I am not suffering, but I am sharing in it with those around me. I am also sharing in great joy. Just as the hardships seem more real here, so does the joy. For instance..

A few Saturdays ago, I spent the day breaking up earth by hand with a "dabbah", a mini hand-hoe. About 85 people from my church came out, to a plot of land that was bought in the outskirts of the city. We ate attieke and fish, mixed with onions, peppers, and tomatoes, together, out of basins (7 people per bowl). The women whom I shared a basin with examined my skin afterwards, asking me questions about my freckles and my flabby arms. Nothing can compare with the joy and contentment I felt, sharing in the work and celebration that day with everyone.

This morning, I biked to a near-by village, which is known for making pottery. I had been there two weeks ago, befriended a family who lives there, and communicated that I would love to come back and work with them. So today, I sat for 2 hours, learning how they make coil pots, and then constructing one myself. I’m going back in a few days to make the designs, and then put it in the fire when it’s dry. The joy of getting to make pottery in the middle of a village in Cote d’Ivoire, all the while chatting with a guy who went to school for painting (like myself), priceless.

Centre Providence is a great example of how, as Kent Annan (a missionary to Haiti) wrote it, “The best comedy bumps up against the tragic.” Wednesday, one of the girls had her skirt hiked up during the morning role-call. One of the teachers snuck up behind her and pulled it up, while another tried to de-pants her (I’m talking underpants). She ran and all of the girls busted out laughing and rolling on the floor. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing! Later on, during discussion time, one of the girls said she heard you could lose weight by putting a maggi cube (like bullion) up your butt (and she stood up, to demonstrate). When the teacher asked what she’d do with it afterwards, the girl said, “put it in the sauce.” The girls there have fiery attitudes, and some of them would make millions as comedians. These are girls who have been in the drug and sex trafficking business, no doubt a bit traumatizing, and comedy is a great outlet for stress relief.

My little brother, David, both exhausts me and brings me uncomparable laughter, at the same time. One day I caught him attaching a plastic bag as a camisole, and a pagne for his skirt (remember, he’s 5). Another time he told me he cut the tail off a lizard, and asked me if I wanted to come see. When I said no, he said, “tu as peur? Vien! Je vais t’accompangie!” (are you afraid? Come! I will accompany you!). When I didn’t want to look at the very large cockroach he found in the bathroom, he said, “Don’t worry, they don’t eat people.”

The political situation here is tense. People are leaving Abidjan by the masses. We’ve had 2 families stay at my house for a few days, on their way up north. The power was out in the north of the country for 5 days, from last Wednesday to Sunday, with no good explanation, except that someone down south (most likely instructed by Gbagbo) turned it off. No power means no running water, medicine in the hospital going bad, people on monitors dying, the bodies in the morgue rotting.. Not a pretty picture. The most it affects me is having a slightly overfilled household for a few days, and sweating profusely while I try to sleep. Not much to complain about. We sit and wait, while Ouattara’s military has moved south to take Abidjan.. Pray for peaceful resolutions.

Also, take comfort in knowing that life goes on as normal here. School started this week! For the first time since the voting, back in November. I sat in the school yard a few days ago, with Kadi, my host mom, and sold homemade popsicles and a corn/sugar mixture that tastes like cheerios. Bakary, my host dad, is a teacher there, so he was at work for the first time since I moved in with them. It was so great to see life going on as it did before this all started.

Thank you, as always, for reading this. Best, Steph

2011-03-16T13:31:00.016-04:00

Hey folks! I finally have a few pictures taken of my life here. Enjoy, and look forward to more coming soon!

My Ivorian brothers: Emanuel and David

Alloko. Fried plantains. The BEST snack around.

Kolo, my younger sister. This is her always, laughing.

Emanuel

Emanigi (my other sister), Kolo, and David

This picture describes their personalities perfectly

Emanuel, actin' cool on his dad's moto

My sunday school class, with my co-teacher, Tenan

Ninieri

Songimay and I. My favorite full of energy 4 year old.

Never a dull moment

2011-02-23T12:56:00.002-05:00

FYI: This blog is a series of anecdotes from the past 2.5 weeks. I hope you find them as interesting/amusing as I do.

I dyed my hair red with henna last week! It’s called “jabi”, bought for 50 CFA (10 cents) in the market, you add water and it looks like you’re putting dog poop on your head, but works amazingly! It’s the same color as the boxed dyes I buy at home. I recommend it.

When I ride my bike here, I practically make the morning news. I get lots of cheers and “bon soir”s. I can just hear them thinking, “hey, white girl on a bike!” Since the Peace Core left Cote d’Ivoire at the start of the war, there haven’t been many white kids riding around here on bikes. My favorite is when they yell, “bravo!” after I make it across a high traffic road.

Kadi likes to take me to the market with her, to buy the beef for the day, because the butcher gives her a good price (keep in mind that the butcher is literally a man at a wooden table, with the meat from ONE cow, and he cuts it with a machete). Last Saturday, I suddenly realized that all 15 women waiting for their cuts were smiling at me with expectant glances, because the butcher was making a marriage proposal to me. All in good humor, but if you know me, I tend to take things seriously a little too often. Needless to say, I’m learning to have more witty comebacks here - and in French at that! Last night, one of Bakary, my host dad’s, friends was proposing that we go back to the US together and get married. I told him he was too old and I wasn’t ready, because I wanted to be free like a bird! Again, all in good humor.

Last Wednesday, I was at one of the local orphanages, playing with the littlest ones, when the director walks in, puts a baby in my hands, and leads me to a car, with 3 other girls and babies. I always have to laugh at the situations when I only know half of what’s going on, sometimes none. We took the babies to get vaccinations at a local hospital. Then we go to the police station. Turns out, a baby had been abandoned at the hospital the day before, literally a birth and run. Can you imagine? I can’t. About half an hour later, I’m called over, and given a 3 day old baby, to carry back to the orphanage. She was tiny and yellow with jaundice. My heart broke.

The political situation here seems to be heating up.. Or perhaps it’s cooling off. It’s hard to tell. All banks are closed, public schools have been closed for months, countless people are laid off. Monday, 5 presidents flew in to attempt a peace treaty with Gbagbo (the president who’s holding on to his place). The hope is that he will leave and Ouattara can finally take office, though he’s already acknowledged as president by many, mostly everyone here in Bouake. It’s been 3 months since elections, everyone is beginning to tire of the waiting. Monday morning, we held our breath, to hear no news by the end of the day. We still wait (im)patiently for what Gbagbo will do. C’est la vie. Nothing here runs as you think it will. I’m amazed by the amount of patience people live with here.. Or maybe it’s more like quietly enduring. We are blessed with a lot of certainty in America that does not exist here.

To sum up life, I’m still figuring out how to best spend my time here. If you are able, please pray that God would give me wisdom in this area. Between work with the church, in local orphanages, Centre Providence, and relationship building with my family. We’re working on a schedule this week to talk to our pastor about on Sunday. I’ve been blessed in all areas, and encouraged by Philippians 4: 6-7, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

It’s been a joy to build relationships with my family. Every night, we sit outside and laugh.. Sometimes it’s teaching Kolo kickboxing, or singing in different languages, or making paper airplanes.. Never a dull moment. I feel at home here, something that I thought would take a lot longer than 2.5 weeks.. Life is full of surprises!

To leave you with words from Amy Charmichael, a missionary to India, at the start of the 20^th century,

“He hath never failed thee yet, never will His love forget, O fret not thyself nor let thy heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” We have no one to fear but God himself.

As I finish writing this, it’s down pouring, basins, no, oceans of rain! It’s not even rainy season yet! I had planned to grab a taxi into town to post this blog online, but it looks like that’s not going to be possible today. C’est la vie! Again, nothing seems to run here as you plan for it too. Patience, patience, patience. Sometimes, I’m a little tired of learning more patience. The most amazing thing is, that in an hour, I’ll bet you 100 bucks that the sun will be out, and that things will be dry by night fall. Oh Africa, never a dull moment.

La vie avec une famille Ivorien.. so far.

2011-02-11T08:39:00.002-05:00

"The life with an Ivorian family"

Pardon me, if my Anglais is bad… or if you find a French word or two. I haven’t spoken much English in the past week.

Daily surrender - that’s the name of the game here. When I wake up, I tell God, “you have to give me enough strength for today, because I don’t have enough on my own.”

My “parents”, Bakary and Kadi Kone, are super helpful and welcoming. They’re in their 30s, and have 2 little boys. Her little sister, Kolo, and one of His brother’s daughters, Christine, also live there. They care a lot for our well-being.. Sometimes too much. Bakary doesn’t want Jamie or I to take a moto-taxi, and he’s afraid for me to ride my bike. He has good reason, but my perception of safety is so different here. But I am a child, right? I think I know everything here already, but in actuality, I don’t. So Bakary introduced us to a man whom he knows who’s a moto-taxi driver, who he trusts. They only speak to us in French, though Bakary knows a good amount of English. Kadi’s mother has been here for the past few days, and she speaks only Djula, so I’m picking up some of that as well. She likes to talk to me.. And I either just sit and smile, spit out what Djula words I remember, or speak French, and ask Kadi or Kolo what she’s saying. Last night, she taught me how to dance to Senoufo music. She grabbed my hands and started doing the “Senoufo shuffle” as I like to call it. It was great.

I take bucket baths twice a day. My “mom”, Kadi, helps me heat up a pot of water over hot coals, and I mix that with cold water from the outside tap. After being here for a few days, my little sister, Kolo (13), asked why I didn’t use the whole bucket. You’re supposed to pour whatever is left over your head. So now when I finish washing, she asks, “toute l’eau?” (all the water?) She also likes to laugh at me, often. Not only does she laugh, but she falls on the floor while doing so. It’s teaching me humility, and I’m thankful I learned to laugh at myself a long time ago.

My little brothers have taken a quick likening to me. Emanuel is 8. I recently taught him how to draw stars, and now he draws them everywhere. He is really sweet kid. He’s also super intrigued by my skin. Sometimes he’ll pet my arm hair, or point out my freckles and try to wipe them off. He has yet to figure out that they’re permanent. David is 5 and he is what they call here, a “bundi”. He likes to get into everything. One of his favorite past times is ringing the bell on my bike. Alas, he keeps life interesting. Yesterday, he made their puppy, “Djik”, ride his little tricycle. He pushed it all around the courtyard. The dog didn’t seem to mind. I also gave him a bath a few nights ago, outside, in a basin, as they do with kids here.

This week has been a lot of just spending time with the family, building relationships. Usually, we get up around 6, and the morning is full of sweeping, washing, reading a bit, walking to the market, preparing the noon meal. Then a petite rest in the afternoon, and more preparing, reading, playing with the kids, conversations, learning French always, and LOTS of visiting. Before dinner, everyone washes again, and dinner is around 8, then more visiting, sitting, and talking, and bed around 9:30 - 10. In the coming weeks, my schedule will change a little, as I start spending more time in ministry, at the local orphanages and Centre Providence.

Like I said already, life is a daily surrender: of my time, my will, my idea of how life should be. Every other morning so far, we’ve had ignames for breakfast. They are like large, heavy potatoes, cooked in oil with a tiny bit of garnish. I much prefer the bread and coffee days. But I had to stop my thoughts and say, “steph, this is how it’s going to be, for the next several months, you just aren’t going to get yogurt and granola for breakfast.” A surrender. That’s just one of the many.

If you are able, please pray that I’ll be full of patience, humility, understanding, wisdom, and strength.. All of the fruits of the spirit, really. I have been reading Psalm 23 fairly often. I love when it says “he restores my soul”, and “my cup overflows”. I’m learning to lean on Him in ways I never have before.

What is comfort anyway?

2011-01-01T12:34:00.014-05:00

In 4 days, I am moving in with a family here in Bouake. This means our training is over and real life begins.

I'm learning to redefine my comforts here. You know, there are things that I considered necessary when I got here, but slowly, I'm learning that I can survive without them. Some things are simple, like familiar food or showers. Other things, like having the internet at my fingertips or the assurance that things will run on time, are a little different.

It's as if God's stripping away any baggage I'm carrying. Those "comforts and needs" are part of it - the things that I hold so dear. The stripping away of these things is bringing me closer to God. Don't get me wrong, it's kind of painful sometimes. I find myself worrying a lot. And then I remember this scripture:

"Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or
drink, or about your body, what you will wear.. look at the birds of the air;
they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father
feeds them... See how the lilies of the field grow... If that is how God clothes
the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the
fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?.. Your heavenly
Father knows that you need them. Seek first His kingom and His
righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well."
(Matthew 6:25-34)

Sometimes, I feel a lot like Thomas. In John 14, Jesus is telling the disciples he is leaving, saying "don't let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, trust also in me." He's preparing a place for them, and he says that they know the way there, to where he's going. And Thomas protests, saying, "Lord, we don't know where you are going, so how can we know the way?" What's Jesus' answer? "I am the way there. I am the truth. And I am life." So what about my worries and unsurities.. about connecting with people, learning the language, failing, or not saying the right things? They are SO SMALL compared to God. What does God say to those small worries? "I am the way - I will take care of your needs. Don't worry about what you will eat or wear. Seek me and I will guide you to where you need to be. I am all the truth and life that you need."

My constant prayer is this "Jesus, be my comfort, shelter, refuge, and strength."

Here are a few highlights:

Our host family: Laurentine, moi, Salif, and Alyssa
Making stars with kids at sunday school

Kati, Chazz, moi, and Holly

Songimay and I, dancing by the fire on New Years

Holly and I

Jumping on Mt. Korhogo

All of us at Christmas

Christmas in Africa

2010-12-22T11:59:00.003-05:00

It’s a few days before Christmas, but without my usual environmental clues that tell me the season is here, it feels a little like an eternal summer. Every now and then, I long for snow, mittens, and a hot mocha, but then I am thankful for the fresh pineapple and watermelon that we have with every meal, for the sunshine, and the trees blooming outside. Sometimes you don’t realize how important traditions are to you, or the routines you find yourself stuck to, until you leave.. And then you wonder, why are they so important?

Christmas traditions here are a little different than they are in the states. Our church has an all day and night vigil on the 24^th, that starts at 8 am and lasts til around 5 am on the 25^th. The day is full of singing, dancing, and eating. - a big celebration of Jesus’ birth. I'm pretty psyched!

The past 2 weeks, I’ve been working with the kids in Sunday school to make stars (les etoiles) for Noël (Christmas). Colored paper and crayons are a novelty for the kids here, and some had never used them before, let alone drawn a star. This past week, we asked the kids a few questions about Jesus’ birth. One child said he thought Jesus was born in a temple. And when we told him that Jesus was born where the animals are kept, outside, in a small stable, they were amazed. This blew my mind. This little boy thought that Jesus was born in a temple, a place so much nicer than his home. But no, Jesus was born outside, where the animals slept! Here, it is common to see goats, chickens, and rams roaming free, and they sleep outside, on the ground. I know I keep reiterating this, but I desperately want you to get that Jesus came in such a low estate. He literally made Himself nothing, so that none could feel unworthy because of their socioeconomic status or placement in society.

God's growing in me a love for the children here, an answer to my prayers, that He would break my heart for the people here. This past week, Naomi (my roommate) and I went to Centre Providence, a home for former prostitutes (girls aged 10 to 17). I don't want to speak too soon, but I feel that God is preparing a place for us there. My passion is for art, and Naomi's is for music and theater. We both feel a pull towards therapy and counseling, for girls who have been through traumatic situations. And as we sat, talking to some of the staff, they began to get excited, because none of them have talents in the arts and they would love for us to be a part of the program for the girls. We're going to start volunteering our time there in the coming weeks.

I recently took a trip to a pottery village a few miles down the road, to find out how they make pottery here. The process is so much simpler than I'm used to. They retrieve rock, crush it to dust with a mortar and pestle, mix it with water and let sit for a day. The pots are all done by hand, via coil building. I thought it was funny that when I asked what they called their tools, they simply said “le bois” (the wood), and when I asked about the glaze, they said “la sauce” (.. the sauce, which is the same for food, such as rice and sauce). I’m going to go back sometime soon to make a coil pot with the ladies there.

Last weekend, I stayed with an Ivorian family, Soro Salif and Laurentine. They are members of our church, here in Bouaké . Alyssa, my 5 foot tall southern California friend whom I love so much, also spent the weekend there. We learned how to take bucket showers, make Cabato (a corn jello of sorts) and to eat leaf sauce and fish.. which I don’t do very well. God is doing a work in my life in the area of food. I really, really like food.. And some days here, I think I would give my first born child for a block of extra sharp cheddar. I also really miss my grandmother’s apple pie. I’m learning that I have a lot of attachments to food.. And that here in Africa, food is for nourishment. There are a few jems of the cuisine here, however. Alloco, futu banane, and attieke and poulet are among my favorites.

To speak to the current political unrest, briefly, I want you to know that even though Cote d'Ivoire is all over the news, life goes on here. I live 5 hours away from Abijian, where most of violence has taken place. We have plans to move out if need be, but we haven't reached that point, nor do we hope to. Please have peace in the knowledge that we are safe and attentive to the cues of the political environment. But as I said, life goes on. We had lunch on Saturday with the families who hosted us last week. As we sat together at one long table, in the shade of a tree, it was hard to imagine anything abnormal was taking place. Even if we have to leave, the families we were sharing a meal with will stay, and their kids will grow up here.

On a final note, I now understand how it literally feels to have a thorn in my flesh. Last week, I managed to get a palm tree thorn lodged in one of my big toes, and I just removed it yesterday. I also have my first strange skin condition, and my medicine turns my skin bright purple. BUT at least it’s on my leg and not my face. Sometimes, it’s the small things in life that you need to get excited for.

This is real life

2010-12-09T11:01:00.008-05:00

Right now, I'm sitting in an internet cafe in the middle of Bouake, watching men ride by on bicycles piled high with harvested greens, women carrying basins of bread, rice or juice on their heads, and moto-taxis whizzing by every few seconds.. and this is all starting to feel like normal life. I have been waiting for the moment when Cote d'Ivoire would feel like home.. I think it may be more of a process, and that I'm in the midst of it. It's interesting timing, don't you think? If you've been reading the news, you probably know that Cote d'Ivoire has just gone through a major election.. and that 2 presidents have been sworn in. Every day seems to be a different story. Gbagbo has been the president here for nearly 10 years, but he doesn't seem ready to leave. Alassane won the popular vote, and as of yesterday, the international community is officially supporting his election as president. Now we wait, pray, and trust in God for what will come. Friends, please pray for peaceful agreements and outcomes.

The other morning, we walked down the road and through the fields(2 by 2), to the nearest campement to visit some families. Chazz and I sat in a woman’s courtyard for a few hours, doing our best to speak French and the little Jula that we knew. It was hard for me at first. Here, it is normal to sit and take in life together. I had to laugh, because Chazz continually reminded me, “steph, it’s okay, just sit.” We were visiting with a woman who had two small girls, and it was her laundry day. I asked if I could help, which she thought was pretty funny. She told me that she needed to retrieve water from the well, so I took a bucket and she took another. The well was a social gathering of women. One woman would jump up on the cement rim, lower a rubber bag on a rope, dip it in the water, haul it up, dump it into our bucket, and this process repeated until all basins and buckets were filled. Being there gave me a deeper understanding of John 4, when Jesus meets the Samaritan woman at the well. She came to the well at noon, in the heat of the day, to avoid the other women, and so to also avoid shame. But Jesus knew her life and offered her living water. He loved her in despite of her sins. When we returned to the woman’s house with the buckets of water, she filled a few basins and began washing clothes, piece by piece, with a bar of soap. After she washed them once, I washed them a second time.. All the while, neighbors are walking by, laughing. I would hear a gibberish of Jula and French, and then the word “blanche” or “too-baboo”, which both mean “white”. Apparently, it’s pretty out of the ordinary to have a white girl helping you wash clothes in your courtyard. Who would have thought? I was happy to find an activity which seemed to bridge the differences between us, at least a little.

Living here is quickly bringing scripture to life. I can better understand why the Samaritan woman came to the well at noon in a culture that avoids shame at all cost. Or why the 5,000 wanted Jesus’ bread so badly, so they would no longer have to spend long hours preparing food. Here, women often wake up at 4 am to start making food for the day.

The next two nights, we will be living with Ivorian families from our local church. I'm pretty psyched.. but also a little nervous. My French is getting there, but it's still pretty mediocre. And my pagne fastening abilities are not great. (Pagnes are the uniform of Ivorian women - used for skirts, head wraps, carrying babies, vegetables, you name it.)

Now for some photos:

From the orphanage

This boy's name is Dieudonner, "God given" (above)

Jael and Houlda (Bakary's little girls), they live on campus with us

Our Christmas tree

My team and I with all of the WV missionaries in Cote d'Ivoire

It's December and 90 degrees

2010-12-02T09:00:00.004-05:00

Check it out, I have some pictures up: HERE

This week, we’ve been decorating for Christmas. The tree is up, complete with lights and ornaments. Since our campus used to be a school, they have lots of boxes full of random things, some being decorations. I must say though, it’s rather strange getting ready for Christmas in 90 degree weather.

A few days ago, I went to visit a few families in Bouake, with Anglelika, Awa, CJ, and Heidi. One of the families had a fire, and we brought them some new mattresses, since theirs had burned. As for the other family, the wife’s father has just come down with Cancer and is down in Abidjan seeking treatment, which isn’t happening very quickly, due to elections. We sat on her front porch for awhile and shared with her in the frustration and sorrow of illness.

A week ago, I ate Thanksgiving dinner with 40 others, at one long table, on a basketball court underneath the stars. Besides the 10 of us and our leadership, we shared the meal with Klana’s and Bakary’s families (our Ivorian neighbors), and all the World Venture missionaries from Cote d’Ivoire. My teammates and I spent the afternoon making green bean casserole, stuffing, creamed corn, sweet potatoes, croissants, and pasta salad, and other goodness. When you cook here, you have to make do with the simplest ingredients. This takes longer, but it also has the best outcome. There was a lot to be thankful for this year

This past weekend, I was incredibly blessed by the stories, struggles, and encouragements of people who have lived here for 30 plus years. Battles with cancer, hiding out in and evacuating from war zones, and miscarriages - all stories that touched my heart. Learning about their everyday lives - treating patients in hospitals in Ferke, translating scripture into local languages, and building an alternative learning school for young girls.

I have been spending my Sunday mornings with preschool kids at church. Last week, we were talking about how God created the moon and the stars. The kids were all given a 2” square piece of white paper and a pencil, to draw the sky. They spent so much time on their pictures. At home, kids have lots of markers, crayons, different colored paper. The difference struck me. Later on, they were given mismatched puzzle pieces, and they took incredible joy in fitting them together in any odd way possible.

We visited the orphanage in Bouake, played with the children, sang songs, held them, and carried them. Here in Cote d’Ivoire, when a parent passes away or cannot take care of a child, they are passed on to a relative that can support the child. In this light, orphanages make little sense here in this culture - something to ponder. Nonetheless, it was a blessing and joy to love on those children for awhile.

I am forming some friendships with the kids that live here on our campus. One little girl, Songemey, is a riot. When you push her on the swing, she yells and laughs and sings as loud as she can.

One Sunday night, I rode into the bush on the top of a Land Cruiser to the top of a nearby rock quarry, where we watched the sunset and then the stars. The night sky is beautiful here. It’s pretty incredible to see an entirely different part of the sky than I’ve grown up with.

Malaria is a much bigger deal here than I originally understood. In the month that I’ve been here, 3 members of our campus family have had it - all have recovered. And if you're worrying about me, stop, because I and my teammates are taking anti-malarials, which are not 100%, but do help a great deal. It's people who live here permanently that I'm most concerned for. You hear in the states that malaria is common in places such as west Africa, and now I understand. Treatments are easily attainable, but most people here do not catch it quickly enough or do not have the money to buy it. One of the missionary doctors from Ferke told me that 1/3 of the patients that come to the hospital are treated for malaria. It is best to treat it quickly, even if you aren’t positive you have it. Otherwise, the symptoms can get much worse very fast.

Right now, we are patiently waiting to hear the results of Cote d’Ivoire’s presidential election. Yesterday, the results were blocked at least 3 times from being announced. We heard rumors last night that the results were finalized, but the government has not yet allowed any final information to be shared. Pray that the results are accepted peacefully throughout Cote d’Ivoire.

A not so brief overview

2010-11-14T08:27:00.004-05:00

I am having a hard time describing life here.. But I’ll do my best.

Today (Sunday): I spent this morning singing songs, praying, and talking about God’s creation with 3 to 6 year-olds, at church. Yes, they only spoke French, but the phrases I used the most were “assise” (sit), “viens” (come), “qui prie?” (who wants to pray), “qui chante?” (who wants to sing?). It was good. When I spend time with kids, I feel purposeful. It feels good to know you are doing something God created you for.

Week days, I wake up at 6, then I often go for a run, followed by breakfast and some refreshing worship and devotional time. At 8, we have a group bible study and prayer time, followed by French class, some cultural classes, and lunch at noon. The afternoon starts with a siest, followed by more sessions or a visit into Bouake market. The evening holds adventures, dinner, and more adventures. We play lots of sports once the heat of the day subsides.

I am the first to admit that where we are living is bit of an African oasis. But it is also a perfect home base, from which to orient our selves as we prepare to serve here. Though I get to experience segments of African life now, in town, church and visiting villages, for the next 2 months we are learning the language, the culture, and what ministry options there are to plug into. After Christmas, we will be living in a village setting., and luxuries like washing machines and showers are nice for now.. but will be replaced with buckets very very soon.

It’s really encouraging to hear the multiple ministry opportunities that there are here. So far, I could work with former prostitutes - leading art therapy activities; I could paint murals for translating and language teaching; I could teach women to create things they can sell for money, to supplement their family’s income. And these are only the known options.. I’m sure many more will come. For now, I'm volunteering in sunday school.

The MARKET is an experience, to say the least. The first day, I walked most of it, and in one word, I would call it “chaos” (to my American comfort level). Imagine streets filled with taxis and motos whizzing by, lined with wooden cubicles of pagnes, fruit, veggies, school supplies, shoes, electronics..). You feel a sense of invincibility, even though you just felt a moto-taxi brush by you 2 seconds prior. Then you enter into an alleyway, with littered streets and booths filled to the brim, to a wooden maze of tailors, sewing and cutting.. It feels like you can find anything you’d ever need there.. But without the convenience that we take for granted in the states. You may be redirected to 10 different places, and still not find the thing you’re looking for.

Courtyards are another common setting here in Cote d’Ivoire. Life happens there, in the middle of village life. You are welcomed to sit, offered water, and then you rest and take in your surroundings. All the while, small conversation is made - about health, family, and jobs. Often, someone else is making food, children are playing, a ram is impatiently pacing in its pen. It’s a peaceful sitting and taking in life together. And unlike America, it’s perfectly ok to not say a lot. It is hard to get over my “keep to yourself” mentality that I often have back at home. Here, it’s rude if you don’t stop by someone’s home to greet them, or stop and ask how they are doing when you pass by. In fact, you should not just ask how they themselves are doing, but also about their family, job, and health. This is true for here on campus as well. There are Ivorians who live here and work here, whom I greet in French daily, saying “Bon jour! Ca va?”, and after lunch, it changes to “bon soir”.

Cote d’Ivoire is in the middle of a major election, something the president has been postponing for nearly 10 years. The second round of voting happens at the end of this month. The decision could change a lot of things, but then again, we all know that politics promise change and don’t always follow through.. We will see. Pray that God’s in charge of the ultimate outcome.

Lizards and ants rule the grounds here. Geckos are as common as squirrels in suburban America, and driver ants create inch wide lines that flow across paths and sometimes into houses. If you disturb their line, they attack your feet.. Not a fun experience! I have to step over one or two every time I go running.

I have eaten fresh coconut milk straight from the tree, passion fruit, fried plantains, ignames, millet.. Most of our food is Ivorian. I’ve had dairy twice since I arrived here: a yogurt this morning, and cheese pizza last week. I’m enjoying it while I can.

Good chocolate and coffee don’t really exist here, even though Cote d’Ivoire is the largest grower of cocoa and produces lots of coffee beans. However, cocoa powder and Nescafe can be found in abundance.

It’s been in the 80s and very high humidity since we’ve been here. The temperature is rising, and the moisture is subsiding, as we are entering the dry season. I’ve heard mixed reviews on which season is more comfortable: wet or dry. I am willing my skin to stop sweating so much.

If you’d like to check out some of the awesome people I am living here with, here are their blogs:

Naomi, Heidi, CJ, Jason, Jamie, Alyssa, Devin, Chazz, Holly

a glimpse

2010-11-06T11:13:00.000-04:00

the team on halloween

view of campus from the water tower

me cj and naomi

J'arrive a Bouake!

2010-11-01T16:32:00.002-04:00

Dear friends,

If you get anything out of this blog post, let it be this:

A. I am “tres bien” (very well), safe and secure here at Mission Baptiste in Bouake, Cote d’Ivoire.

B. Where I live is beyond beautiful - full of fruit trees, singing birds, vibrant flowers, and in the best company I could ask for. I stop and praise God every hour, if not more.

C. God is good. We arrived safe, as did our bags. The smoothest traveling I’ve ever experienced There is much to praise Him for here. It is a strange mix of extreme excitement and newness, along side overwhelming adjustments. One of our leaders said, “nothing can prepare you for this,” and I now understand exactly what they meant.

Now for the details.

Words cannot describe the past few days. Though the journey here was long, including 4 flights, a 6 hour sleep in Abidjan, and a 5 hour bus ride to Bouake, it was unnaturally issue-free. I remember the ride from the airport by its smells. First, there was the aroma of pineapples, then cocoa, and then coffee and dust - all flooding through the windows of our van. I kept thinking, “we are going home!.. And it’s for a year!” No getting on another plane next week. But don’t interpret that as a hardship, because that’s not what I feel. I feel extremely content beyond words. I find myself often sitting and taking in what’s going on. I have to. It’s like I’m a child again, and I have to ask lots of questions. By the way, I really did ask a lot of questions as a child. Everything is new: the birds that I hear, the fruit trees (I have grapefruits, limes, lemons, papayas, mangoes, pineapples, avocados, passion fruit, guava, coconut, and banana trees ALL right outside! - though it takes a bit of climbing and searching for ripe ones), the geckos, the heat lightning storms, the humidity (a bit like our Philadelphia summer), the food (the first night, we had fresh killed chicken with cucumber, tomato and onion salad, attieke -similar to cous cous, spicy tomato chili sauce, and hot peppers. You mixed it all in your hand, squeezed it, then popped the handful into your mouth.. Which takes some grace I have not yet developed. For desert, fried plantain pieces, delicious!), the people, their customs and the language (French and Dyula).

Right now, at this moment, it is torrential down pouring. It does this every now and then, as we are at the end of the rainy season. Yesterday, we were sitting in a training session, the sun was out, and we heard this loud pounding on the roof, then saw the rain through the windows. So we ran outside, and there was the BIGGEST rainbow I have every seen, stretching across the entire sky. Absolutely beautiful. It is said that rainbows are symbols of “God’s promise”. And the rain reminds me of God’s healing. There have been a handful of memorable rainstorms in my life. This perhaps tops them all. It came at a time when we were struggling with our own expectations of what Africa would be like, alongside of the customs, language, and differences that we were learning. I couldn't help myself and ran out into the rain. We praised God together, for his restoring power, and for the rain and rainbow that reminded us of Him.

I mentioned at the beginning that I feel very content. This is partly because of all of the excitement, but I know I need to credit it mostly to God. I am content knowing that THIS is what He has for me right now. And man, do I praise God SO MUCH for everything here.. I wish I could say the same about life back in the US.. Sometimes it takes nuances to remind us to praise Him. There’s an incredible feeling when you realize you are living out God’s plan - and it is in that knowledge that I am free.

There is so much more I'd like to say, but for now, I am working on processing it first, before I start spitting it all out here on my blog... because there would be too much to read. Also, pictures are coming soon. I am taking it in for now.

One last word on relationships. I came here with 9 others, and there are a handful of leaders here. God could not have handpicked a better group of people to live together and serve, in community, in Bouake. Again, we have much to praise God for.

Ways you can pray for me:

Patience: in relationships, language learning, understanding. Good health. That we will take on a missionary living lifestyle, including waking up at 6, and living the way that the people do here.. with humility and not pride. For community and deep relationships (praise Jesus, they form fast here). That I would seek God for His will, for my time here. And as always, for my own heart, that God would do great works in it and with it.

"Hey ho let's go!"

2010-10-20T00:03:00.008-04:00

Tomorrow evening, I hop on a plane for Denver, Colorado, where my lovely friends Kate and Jordan Egli will pick me up and take me to Colorado Springs for a few days (to see their new home). THEN, on Sunday, I will go to Littleton for training. There I'll meet up with 9 other folks, plus a few leaders, who will be my new family for the next year. And THEN we will all travel to Cote d'Ivoire on October 28th! That's 4 flights and at least 1 bus in my near future. Oh what an adventure it will be.

Yesterday my brother and I cleaned out my whole car. This may not sound like such a feat, but it was. Man, we're a pretty awesome team. In fact, if careers don't work out for either one of us, perhaps we could just clean cars together... no, I'm not banking on that, and on second thought, I'd rather not. I also sent out a large stack of prayer postcards and successfully sent in all of my preliminary grad school application items (for fall of 2012.. I have always been a plan ahead type person.. even if God does change plans closer to the date). Feeling pretty on top of all that.. packing is a whole different animal though. I have bought all that I need (save a few things), said goodbye to Walmart (happily), and now it's down to 2 suitcases and ziplock bags (lots and lots of them). My first flight to Colorado limits me 80 lbs, which isn't hard. Clothes wise, I'm not taking much and it's pretty light. It's the liquids, really - the year supply of deodorant, toothpaste, my mini medicine cabinet, etc. Tonight, as I look at my larger suitcase, I am realizing that I need to get rid of a few things.. maybe I don't need the febreeze or the pack of markers.. no, probably not.

I've been thinking about what I'm most excited for in Cote d'Ivoire. The list starts with food, go figure. My friend Rebecca spent some time in the Peace Core, and lived near Bouaké, where I'll be, and she's super excited for me to try the food. Beckie, our french teacher on the base, just went over a week or so ago and wrote this blog that made my mouth water. You can read it HERE. Subject A:

"Attieke - its like sticky couscous, made from a root plant, served with a salsa sauce with tomatoes, cucumbers, and onions. You make it into balls with your hands and eat it with fresh killed chicken."

Ok, maybe that's not gourmet or anything, but I'm really excited to try it. I'm also excited to live without a car for awhile - to rely on walking, bikes, and taxis. To live without buying new clothes, unless I pick out the fabric, go to an African tailor, and have them made. Sweat shop free, and I LOVE fabric. I used to spend hours in Joan Fabrics, looking for the perfect print to make a bag out of. No joke. ULTIMATELY, I'm really excited to devote this year to God's work. Not that I don't do that anyway in America, but this feels different. Maybe it's because I am a missionary. Any way you look at it, my time and energy is His and when we give our lives to Him, our efforts are so much more fruitful than when we do things without Him. I am guilty of this, just as much as you are. It's hard to give up our own desires and follow His.

I've got an analogy for you. Elizabeth Elliot talks about the acorn that becomes an oak tree. When it's planted, the acorn only feels the splitting and breaking, not the grand tree it will become. But when you look at the oak tree, the acorn does not feel like a loss, it's a part of the process, a reminder of how God "works all things together for the good of those who love Him," (Romans 8:28). Even the aches and longings that come with trusting in His way, when we don't understand why our situation is so hard or why it's trying our patience. He needs to trim the branches of the vine so that it will produce much fruit, and we (the branches) get our nourishment from Him (the vine) so we must abide in Him in our waiting (John 15).

That's a little of what He's been showing me lately. I hope it speaks to you as well.

It's also my mom's birthday today, happy birthday, mom! Couldn't have done this without you.

The next time you hear from me, I'll most likely be in Africa. That being said, Au Revoir!! "Until we meet again." And thank you for reading this. It truly means a lot to me that you want to be a part of this with me. I love writing and I also love sharing my experiences with others. And I love comments, so comment away, please!

Silence

2010-09-29T22:56:00.007-04:00

Why do I worry and agonize endlessly over the small things -
And forget how big God is?

"Be still and know that I am God." (Psalm 46:10)

What do you think of when you hear the word "silence"? I used to think of my bus driver who would scream "SHUT UP!" about 5 times every morning, from kindergarten to 11th grade, or the dreaded time-out, which later became "quiet room" and ultimately - detention. But lately, I've seen silence a bit differently. It's waking up at 7 am before anyone else is stirring to sit on the front porch with coffee or laying outside on the hammock - watching the sky for a shooting star. And it's in those places that I've heard God speak. Not to mention the healing that has come from this sacred silence over the past months - because man, did I need it. One of my favorite stories of all time is 1 Kings 19. Elijah is fleeing from an angry King Jezebel to Mount Sinai, and here's what God does at the top.

Then he was told, "Go, stand on the mountain at attention before God. God will pass by." A hurricane wind ripped through the mountains and shattered the rocks before God, but God wasn't to be found in the wind; after the wind an earthquake, but God wasn't in the earthquake; and after the earthquake fire, but God wasn't in the fire; and after the fire a gentle and quiet whisper. When Elijah heard the quiet voice, he muffled his face with his great cloak, went to the mouth of the cave, and stood there. A quiet voice asked, "So Elijah, now tell me, what are you doing here?"

We often cry out to God, "hey! Do something big!" but He is waiting for us in the stillness, in the silence. God is quite contradictory. As I'm preparing to go, I feel like He is trying to tell me, "Be still and know that I am God." But the amazing thing is, worrying about the small things - like the MAT I want to take on Friday for grad school, which malaria pills to get, or my vaccinations that cost a lot more than I thought they would so now I may not be able to get fully reimbursed - does not help. What does help is finding a quiet place and saying "God, help me with this, I need you to carry this for me, it's giving me a headache and hindering me from getting anything done." Man, it looks so simple in hindsight.

I leave you with an excerpt from Come Away My Beloved, Frances Roberts:

I have waited for you to wear yourself out. I knew you would find it eventually - the secret of silence and rest, of solitude and of song. I will rebuild your strength - not to work again in foolish frenzy, but just for the sake of making you strong and well.

I'm going, I've got a plane ticket!

2010-09-13T10:13:00.012-04:00

I suppose you could say that now it's official. Last week, our plane tickets to Cote d'Ivoire were bought! October 28th is the date, and it's a one way. I'm finally starting to feel like it's really happening.. though I'm sure I won't fully realize it until next month sometime. In the meantime, I'm filling my days with French learning, reading, painting, getting rid of things, buying new things, filling out visa paperwork, getting immunizations, and oh yeah - making muffins. I just made a batch of blueberry, my new favorite.

How am I feeling about all of this? Humbled, thankful, and a bit of restless excitement. I am incredibly blessed to have 100% of the money that I need for this coming year in Africa. Seriously, PRAISE GOD that I been surrounded by people in my life who support me, as well as people who don't know me but who God has laid it on their heart to give. In case you don't know, at the end of July, a grant organization in my community anonymously gave me HALF of what I needed to raise. It was an incredible affirmation that I'm really supposed to do this.. because I can assure you, that would not have happened if this going to Africa thing wasn't meant to be. As for the restless excitement, what can I say, I have itchy feet!

By the way, you should check out CJ's blog. She has a plane ticket as well, and is working on raising the rest of her money in the next month! Keep her in your prayers as well as the other 7 (plus our leadership team) who are gearing up to go!

Now for an update on my second last week in Philadelphia (yeah, I found a reason to go back again)

I spent last week in Philadelphia, to help prepare for and set up an exhibition of the kids' artwork from camp. As you can see from the pictures, we made muffins! It was quite a project, but it was awesome for the kids, to be as much a part of the exhibition as they could be. A lot more kids helped, but often they'd run in and out of the house.. as is typical for 3234 Potter St., no matter who is living there. Two days later, we decorated them with icing and sprinkles of various colors and flavors, which was SO much fun. I think they loved that part even more. A handful of them got to come to the exhibition as well, which had an incredible turnout! We also went up front with them and sang a few songs from camp, including "whose side are you leaning on?", "Undignified", and "Baby shark". Can't say I didn't feel pretty ridiculous dancing around and shouting in front of a bunch of grownups and trying to get them to join in - instead of the normal group of kids on camp mornings. All in all, it was encouraging to see the kids taking part in the art opening, and to see them lead songs while I just stood on the sidelines. Yeah, it was a perfect finale to my time in Philadelphia, but mostly, I think it was great for the kids to be part of something where other people came to see them and their work.

Potter Street Camp

2010-08-11T10:44:00.009-04:00

Last night, I laid awake, asking God why He chose now to break my heart for Philadelphia. After 4 years of living here, He waited until the last month. And the very next morning, I wake up to a notification in my email, telling me that two rather large donations for my trip to Cote d'Ivoire have finally appeared in my account! It was as if God was taking away that little bit of doubt in my heart, saying "no, I still want you to go to Africa in October. It figures – sometimes His timing makes absolutely no sense. However, I would like to tell you in short exactly what it is about this great city of Philadelphia that has a handle on my heart.

In July, amongst job searching and support raising, I stumbled upon a camp that an organization called the Simple Way was running in Kensington. As it turned out, Potter Street camp was looking for someone to lead an art segment with the kids. I came in assuming I would only be there 3 days of the week, and instead, I spent all of the free time that I had in Kensington. This was partially because of the completely awesome people who were volunteering with me, but mostly because of the kids that we blew bubbles with, taught scripture to, sang “Baby shark” with day after day, and even sat in time out with for countless hours. And like most situations in which you are serving others, it is you – the one serving – who learns much. Those kids taught me joy, patience, humility, courage, strength, peace, and most of all, love. Jesus said that when you give a child a glass of water, you are giving it to him, and it was that scripture that got me through the day sometimes. They had a hope within them that many of their parents seemed to have lost through the years. I will never forget the day that Tyreek saw the box of honey buns on our counter, and handed all of them out on the street without even keeping one for himself. How something as simple as a single dance move could make a 10-year-old girl named Precious laugh for hours, or how much the littlest ones loved to be swung back and forth by their hands and feet. How a little 3-year-old girl named Yameli came to the camp on the first day, shy and quiet, without knowing any English, and how she ran up to me with arms wide on the last day and left singing “baby shark do do– do do –do do “. The day I stood by her side while she took a very long time in the port-a-potty, the day she painted my whole arm red, and her laugh that will turn any frown into a smile. A boy named Louie who we had to send home from camp after many occasions of punching innocents and grabbing inappropriate areas. Yet the same boy once helped me carry a water cooler back to the storage room after camp was over, and then held my hand as he walked peacefully back home. A little girl named Isyss who spent an hour writing me a letter instead of playing with the other kids on the last water day of camp. And just two nights ago, when I played hot potato with a very expressive little girl named Tymeka. When the “potato” finally cooled down enough to eat, she told me that it was strawberry flavored.

I could go on and on with these stories, and I thank God for every single one of them. I thought this summer would be solely about preparing for Africa, but God had other plans. He knew that I needed this experience, that it would teach me SO MUCH that I will take with me to Cote d’Ivoire. He never ceases to amaze me. That is for sure. How deep His love is for me, how vast beyond all measure, as it is for all of His children. I praise Him with every breath, for how He has taught me to love like Him… but mostly how He is still teaching me. I still fall short every day, but that is ok because He loves me just the same.

New Journey Corps video!

2010-06-17T13:20:00.001-04:00

This is really cool, the team made this video in Bouaké on their last trip over to Côte d'Ivoire:
CHECK IT OUT

You're probably wondering..

2010-06-02T20:30:00.007-04:00

Why do I want to go to Côte d'Ivoire, Africa next year?

In short: To love the people of Côte d'Ivoire. Beyond the political turmoil, trafficking, trauma, food shortage, poverty, or any other issues they may face. I would love more than anything to be able to help even one of them to seek freedom from whatever oppression or deficit they face, but I believe that to simply love them will fulfill God's purpose for me there.

"For right now, until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love." 1 Corinthians 13:13

The full story: I am accepted to World Venture’s cross-cultural ministry, Journey Corps, in Côte d'Ivoire, Africa! The program is a designed for young people, aged 20 - 32, who have a college degree, to use their talents, gifts, and hands to serve the people of Africa. Throughout my last semester of college, I have been praying for God to direct my next steps in life, and I have felt at peace with taking a gap year before grad school. When I went to Urbana over winter break, I sought out organizations to speak to with which I could serve for a year, using my passions for art and for children. I am studying art therapy, and I have seen the peace children can gain from focusing their energy into a positive activity such as painting or forming something out of clay. In learning about children in war-torn areas of Africa, both in the past year and at Urbana, my heart has been broken for them. My eyes have been opened to how art can be a dynamic tool for connecting to these children and a great aid in the healing process, as most of them have seen traumatizing things.

I am excited about Journey Core because it will be a hands-on program, in which we will be working alongside missionaries already living in Côte d'Ivoire and in the surrounding area. I will have a chance to live in a culture, learning their customs, language, and needs, all the while learning how to be a better example of Jesus. Part of the program is focused on studying scripture, to equip young people to enter the mission field. It is designed to be a one or two year immersion in which journeyers will seek God’s calling in their lives, whether it is a lifetime in the mission field or a return to their own culture to serve the people of the US. I am not sure which God is calling me towards, but I am excited to use this opportunity to seek His will.

What will it take to go?

I will need to raise $1,500 for every month that I am there. For one year, that’s $18,000 by August 1, 2010 so that I can begin the program in September. This is a large sum of money, and to be honest, I have no idea how I can raise that much. However, I know that if it is God’s will for me to be part of this program, then He will provide. In fact, it is already taken care of. I know that He will use this process to build my faith immensely. I also know that if Journey Core is not in His plan for my life, then He will shut doors on this opportunity and open others elsewhere. I know this because I have been praying this prayer since January. Romans 8:28 says, “We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” God has given me a peace of mind and knowledge that He loves me and has a purpose for my life, so all of this will come together in His timing. His ways are so much higher than mine, as Isaiah 55 reminds me, and His thoughts far beyond my own.

Picture 1 taken from here
And picture 2 from here

What is Journey Corps?

2010-05-31T22:40:00.005-04:00

"Journey Corps is a one-to two-year, cross-cultural service ministry designed for young people to use their gifts and passions as they live in community, learn missions, and labor together.

We offer hands-on service experience.
Community based ministry.
Over 65 years of missions experience.
Mentors for the journey."

Where is it???

"The Journey Corps Training Center is located near Bouaké, Côte d’Ivoire. It’s a 32-acre campus situated just outside the second largest city in Cote d’Ivoire."

"Côte d'Ivoire was one of the most prosperous nations in sub-Saharan Africa until the December 1999 coup d'état. Due to continuing political and military turmoil and the destruction of schools, most SIM missionaries were evacuated out of the country in November 2004 and have not been able to return. Recent presidential elections will hopefully result in long-term stability." (http://www.sim.org/index.php/country/ci)

"The small and diverse country of Côte d’Ivoire lies on the underside of the West African “bulge.” Often referred to as “Ivory Coast,” the nation is about the size of New Mexico. The southern part of the country has experienced much prosperity compared to other African nations, while the north is underdeveloped and many people there live in poverty. The coastline of Côte d’Ivoire varies from small rocky cliffs in the west to flat, sandy beaches in the east. Moving north, the country’s tropical forest changes to savanna. The climate is temperate to hot, with ample rainfall.

Of the nearly 17.6 million people living in Côte d’Ivoire, more than 30 percent are of foreign origin. Côte d’Ivoire is home to at least 66 language dialects. The expanding Sahara, tribal conflicts, political upheavals, and the sway of Islam along with the spread of AIDS have left the peoples of West Africa economically and spiritually impoverished. The church needs workers trained to present the gospel in ways that spark these peoples’ interest and feeds their physical and spiritual hungers

Where I'll be living: Journey Corps Training Center in Bouaké:
For more than 30 years the campus was a state of the art boarding school known as International Christian Academy (ICA).
Tribal conflict from 2000 and 2003 made it impossible to continue boarding students at ICA, and it sat partially vacant for years while being leased and maintained by the French military. The 32-acre campus is enclosed in a security wall and is located a mere eight kilometers (almost five miles) from town."

(taken from http://myjourneycorps.com)