So what's next?

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