The Start of the Longest Week of my Life: Day 1

Before leaving for my very short trip to Swaziland, I prayed that God would make this the longest week of my life. It has been three full days and it already feels like a week has passed with everything that has been packed in so far! Yebo Jesu!

I left for Swazi on a Thursday evening flight from Chicago to Germany. During the eight hour flight, I sat next to a nice man around my age who was traveling to Chicago for his brother's wedding. He was kind and even offered his shoulder for me to sleep on after I kept rustling back and forth trying to find a workable condition to attempt to get some zs. The only problem with the young man was that he had caught a cold from someone on a previous flight the day before. He was constantly sniffling and coughing on and off. I hoped I wouldn't catch his cold, but after the eight hour flight, as soon as I stepped into the Frankfurt airport, my nose started running. I had thirteen hours to kill, yes it was THIRTEEN hour layover, so I found a nice corner by some windows that had a little work table (so I could correct all my students' papers to pass the day). Within minutes of nestling into my spot, my runny nose cost me my last package of kleenex, so I resulted to “borrowing” a roll of toilet paper from the bathroom. Starting to feel quite miserable, I prayed, “Lord, please don't let me have this cold on the plane ride; that's the worst place to be sick.” Throughout the day I drank lots of liquids and used the airborne tablet. Ten hours and a toilet paper roll later, I was bustling up my luggage and heading to my gate sniffle free!

The twelve hour flight from Frankfurt to Johannesburg was the best plane ride I've ever had! For the first time in numerous travels, I slept for the majority of the ride! The Lufthansa plane seats were fantastic, and I arrived in Johannesburg feeling exhilarated and excited! I took a shuttle bus five hours to Swazi and finally found home! Upon hearing the rolling wheels of my luggage, Christina Hostetter lept from her balcony seat of the volunteer house, ran down the stairs, and embraced me with the best welcome home hug ever! I knew with her embrace this is exactly where I was meant to be.

My first full day in Swaziland was Sunday. After church in the morning, Christina and I swung by Mangwaneni to pick up Ayanda, Johannes, and Pununu to take them with us to visit Tenele's homestead. It was an incredible forty minute drive with Christina and I in the front and our kids chattering excitedly in the back.

When Tenele, baby MK, and Tenele's mother met us on the dirt road to take us to their homestead, I wasn't sure my heart could be any fuller. Little Lucia had teeth! And Tenele looked so happy, as did her mother. Tenele's mother cannot speak English, so much of our converstaion is through smiles and embraces. Once at the homestead, Tenele introduced her other two sisters and their babies as well. It was a full house, and although the land looked promising with growing vegetables, the living conditions weren't great. Throughout our conversation, Christina and I politely swatted away the swarming amount of flies in the room. Lucia looked very thin, and I was worried about her.  Her head looked oversized compared to her thin and somewhat bony body structure.  Tenele told me she had been sick, and it looked like it was more than just being sick, so I told Tenele to meet me the following day in town and I'd take them to the clinic to check on Lucia.

Later that afternoon, Johannes and Ayanda came over to visit.  My lovely students back in the states had decided to sign and send a soccer ball for Johannes as a get well gesture after I had told them about Johannes' heart condition.  So, I presented the ball to Johannes and his reaction was unexpected.  One of hte biggest smiles I have EVER seen from him spread across his face as his eyes light up the room.  He held the ball tenderly and gave me a big, long hug saying, "I've dreamed of having a soccer ball of my own."  How incredibly humbling to have a young man so appreciative of something so seemingly small.  He tossed the ball around and looked and each and every name of the students who signed it, asking for me to pronounce the names for him.  Another student of mine had donate a bunch of clothes, so Johannes tried on a few and loved the shirts so much he started to model them for the camera.  

The first full day of Swazi closed with a trip to the grocery store with Christina and a joint effort in making the best chili I've had!  

Wow, what a trip and it's only day one!  The time I spent with Christina and my children is already worth the travel and cost of being here.  God truly is making this the longest week of my life. 

To be continued...

Wholly Broken

Wholly Broken

People often wonder if I left my heart in Swazi, why don’t I go get it?  Why don’t I move there?  Why don’t I live there if I miss it that much?  Sometimes I don’t know the answer to that; many times I wish I did live in Swazi; sometimes I think about moving the next chance I can.  I bury myself with my job here and busy myself with life so that the pang of separation from loved ones and desperate sting of longing to hold my children would go away.  But it never does.  The wound will never be healed; my heart will never be whole because I live in two worlds—two worlds starkly different from each other, two worlds that can’t possible coexist together, two worlds that hold two halves of my very soul, two worlds that will never mend a broken heart.  So the real question is, which world would I rather live in?

My heart leaps at the answer, “Swazi” but there’s a gentle voice inside my being that stings, “stay.”  The choice is daunting, and the longer I stay the more I burn.  Sometimes it feels like self-infliction.  How can I possibly live like this much longer?  How can I embrace life with an injured wing?  How can I stand in front of a room full of my high school students with my Mimio board and all the technology I want at my fingertips, yet ache so passionately to be standing in front of that hot, colorless, boxed in room with a piece of chalk and a blackboard, teaching students who giggle at my accent?  All the technology in the world means nothing next to teaching a 14 year old prostitute the ABCs.  All the parent teacher conferences and staff appreciation mean nothing next to a fatherless teenage girl who thanks me for giving “hope to everyone.”  All the money I get in my lofty teacher salary means nothing next to paying for a bright young lady’s education when she had been kicked out of school for being pregnant, though she had been raped.  All of the comforts of family and friends being a phone call away mean nothing next to holding a baby that has been nick-named in my honor.  So if my all is in Swazi, why is not all of me there?

As I stand in front of my American students, I look into their eyes—no, I search their eyes, and I find my answer.  Are these two worlds really that vastly different from each other?  The eyes of my students say, “look deeper, look beyond your pain, and look at mine.”  The worlds are unquestionably contrasting, but the need for love and hope in both worlds are in fact one and the same.  I need look no further than the young faces before me to see that they ache for the same things my Swazi children ache for: to be noticed, to be wanted, to be loved.  My American students’ eyes hold my answer, their eyes hold my purpose, their eyes hold my broken heart.  Some smile and joke and laugh to cover the scars; some never try because they’ve been told they’ll never be good enough; some are loud and obnoxious, overriding the sting of feeling forgotten; some are quiet and reserved, never volunteering an answer in fear of their classmates’ laughter; and all, all of them come with a wound or more that still needs healing.  Some wounds are physical, the scars of bloodied arms from a razor, the scars of self-infliction, the scars that say physical pain is better than emotional damage.  Other wounds are invisible, unless you search their eyes.  Some eyes tell of untold horrors, of abuse she has witnessed, of abuse she has endured.  Some eyes are dry from the waterfall of tears that soak his pillow at night because he can’t cry in front of anyone else.  Some eyes search mine, begging me to see what they don’t want to say.  And when their eyes can’t say it any longer, the brave ones put it on paper.  Their writing moves me, breaks me, consoles me, and shows me I do have purpose here.  They show me that their hunger is more than bread and butter, it’s for truth and love.  They show me that they aren’t so different than the ones I desperately love in Swaziland; they give me a reason to stay when my heart groans, “go.” 

Maybe these worlds aren’t so vastly different from each other after all.  I was a vessel of hope for my students in Swazi; I am a vessel for healing in students’ hearts here; I was a mother to many children in Swazi, and I am tenderly nicknamed “Mama Kate” here.  Yes, my heart is split between two different worlds, but I am a teacher, a mother, and a lover all the same.   And maybe that’s the whole point.  My purpose here is not to be whole, my heart is not meant to be mine; I am called to fulfill His purpose for His people everywhere, and He means everywhere.  Therefore, I glory in my brokenness and put my heart in my heavenly home, because only then and only He can make me whole.  

Patience Pays Off

Patience is more than a virtue...it's like money in a bank.

After leaving "home" (Swazi) to come "home" (Wisconsin), I couldn't bare the thought of not seeing my children for an entire year, especially when my baby girl is going to grow up way too fast in a simple twelve months!  So, I fervently tried looking up plane tickets over my Christmas break.  Site upon site gave me the same bad news: booking a flight around Christmas is impossible for my current bank account.  Eish.  I couldn't foot a $3,000 plane ticket or anything close to that; yet, I was willing to try any way I could to see my kids again.

"Okay, Lord," I started praying, "if you want me there, you gotta get me there some how some way.  I need a miracle."

The more I looked into plane tickets and options to go, the more discouraged I became.  I also discovered that if I were to somehow miraculously come up with the money to make it to Swazi over break, I'd miss three basketball games that I'm supposed to be coaching.  "That's not gonna fly," I thought.  Still, I couldn't rest.  My heart was burdened and my mind was all over the place trying to come up with options of how to get to Swazi.  One day, while I was praying about it, a thought popped into my head about going over during Thanksgiving break.

"Ha!" I laughed aloud. "What a ridiculous thought!"  I rationed that not only is November much closer than December but that also means that it'd be more expensive and I also would have to take off a great number of work days in order to make that possible.  With no other options, I decided to punch it into Google and see what flight options come up.  I nearly fell off my seat when I encountered a plane ticket for $1,200.  That's less than half of what the Christmas ticket would have been!  I was shocked, excited, thrilled, and scared all at the same time.  "This is actually possible!" I exclaimed.  Now, $1200 is still a great deal of money that I wasn't going to use lightly but it was the cheapest plane ticket to Swazi I had EVER seen!  Now that it was possible I wondered if it was plausible.  "Should I really go?  Is it worth it?"  I would only be able to stay for about a week, and a quick trip like that would be over before I said hello.  Would it hurt me more in the end to have to leave after such a short amount of time?

I had been corresponding with Christina when I was trying to look up a Christmas break ticket and had broken the news to her that it probably wouldn't work because I couldn't afford it.  She sweetly responded that no matter how short of a visit both she and my kids would be more than blessed if I came but that she understood I had to do what's best for me.  Could what's best for me also be what's best for them?

Yes, indeed.  After talking over the options with my wise and supportive mother, she wasn't so keen on the idea at first but the more we talked the more excited she got and the more affirmative she became of taking this opportunity.  She expanded my thinking to contemplate and plan for two trips a year.  As the founder of an organization, she reminded me that I need to think of what's best for the org (Hosea's Heart), too.  She talked about other orgs who send their founders/executive directors over numerous times a year and suggested I start planning for something like that.  Brilliant!  Though I can't rationalize HHeart supporting my trip this time because we are still in unstable raising funds stages, I still felt empowered to take this opportunity while I had it.

I sat down at the computer ready to book a ticket but a quiet voice told me to wait.

Wait.

That's it.  Just wait.  "What?  What do you mean 'wait'?!  I can't wait.  The ticket prices will go up if I wait!  I have to get it now."

Just wait.  One day.  Wait.

"Fine," I closed my computer, not knowing why I was waiting.  The next morning I sat in church trying really hard to concentrate but all I could think about was that looming ticket I needed to book.  I shook myself back into the homily and then quickly prayed, "Lord, I don't know why I'm waiting, but just bless it.  Bless the wait, bless the ticket more than you already have!"

When I got home later that day I went straight to my computer to find the ticket.  It wasn't there.

What was there was a blessing with my name on it.

I booked a ticket that afternoon to Swaziland, Africa for a miraculous $986!  I have NEVER in my four years of going to Swazi EVER seen a ticket like that... EVER!  Praise the Lord!  Praise God for the wait!

Patience truly "pays" off!

After I booked the ticket, I realized how incredible this situation really is: 1) I get to refresh Christina who is living on her own for the year taking on the burdens of not only the social welfare office of boys homes but creating the girls home, too, AND I get to bring her THANKS for her GIVING over Thanksgiving!
2) I won't miss a single game of coaching basketball!
3) I only have to take off a few days of work because for "some" reason we have a three day T-giving break instead of a two-day like usual.
4) I get to bring supplies and clothes for the girls home and check up on the progress.  I get to bring back pictures and videos of the progress of the home to give to donors so we can keep raising funds to build the home.
5) I get to hand deliver pen pal letters that my students here will write to the Swazi students and I get to bring return letters back with me.
6) I get to celebrate Baby MK's FIRST BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!  Yebo Jesu!

Seriously, how great is our God?  I don't deserve His faithful goodness, and yet that's the beauty of his grace.

Patience is more than a virtue...it's a ticket to Swazi and back again.

Simply YOU is Enough

"Esther, just as she was, won the admiration of everyone who saw her."  -Esther 2:15

  One of the best birthday gifts I recently received was a letter from my dear friend Rachael.  In her letter she shared some insight she recently gained while reading through the book of Esther.  She writes, "It's a simple message but one every woman needs to hear multiple times."  She then proceeded to make parallels about the characteristics she sees in me and those of Esther and she comments, "But out of all of that I think the most amazing thing about Esther is that she was completely herself and she won the admiration of every person in the palace, including the king!"

JUST AS SHE WAS...

If you're not familiar with the Esther story, she saved an entire race of people by risking her own life, placing her life/death sentence in that hands of the king.  Prior to saving this race, Esther had been brought to the king as one of the women the king might choose to be his next queen.  Out of all the hundreds of women, who bedazzled themselves in the finest of jewelry before the presence of the king, Esther won his admiration by simply being her.  Amazing, right?  We constantly change ourselves or better ourselves to please others, doing things to win the admiration of those around us.  But DOING meant nothing; it was BEING that graced Esther with the opportunity to be queen, which enabled her to save a race of humanity.

This letter was such a beautiful reminder that I don't have to "fix up" myself for others or work to impress people.  In the struggles I've had through my singleness, many times I've wondered, "What am I doing wrong?" or "What's wrong with me?"  In the times that I've tried to purposely impress others, I usually come up empty handed or disappointed, wondering what I'm not doing right.  But looking back at the times when I've been completely myself--covered in dirt and sweat working at a Bible camp, dancing like a fool in the rain, unleashing my ghettoness in a variety of ways, or scooping up some kids in my arms--that's when I've been noticed, just being me.

Like Rachael said, it is truly a message we ALL need to hear countless times.  "Just be you" is a seemingly overused phrase that may have lost some of its meaning.  But you don't need to look any further than Esther herself to realize that this is a life-changer.  Rachael summarizes her point with this: "Esther accomplished so much while being queen, but the thing that won her admiration from everyone was simply, her."

So I pass along this message to you.

Simply YOU is enough. 

My Teacher is a 16 Year Old

Isn't it amazing that the people we think we're teaching or helping are usually the ones changing, reforming, and refining us?  16 year old Ayanda never ceases to amaze me.  She is wise beyond years, tender beyond her tears, and firm in the face of fears.  I have learned more from Ayanda in the past two years than I have ever taught anyone else.  She might still call me "Mama" but I'll have to start calling her "Teacha!", especially after the conversation we just had...

I just got done having an hour long phone conversation with this brilliant Swazi girl, who made me laugh more in the course of one conversation than I have for the past two weeks!  Before I explain what exactly we talked about during this conversation that was so incredible, I'll have to let you in on some hidden parts of my heart. 

When I was in Swazi for those nine months in 2010-2011, I experienced some of the most lonely and dangerous times of my life; however, some of that was expected being in a foreign country on my own.  But, when I feel that same stinging loneliness in my own country, in my own city, in my own job, in my own home, in my own heart, that's not expected and that makes it more painful.  "Lord, if I'm feeling this lonely being here, why don't I just go to Swazi and stay there?" I journaled one night.  I know the answer; I know I'm supposed to be here bearing the cross of living in two different worlds and loving two different families.  

But as I've been preparing for my students and classes that start in a few days, I've realized I'm addicted to the work.  I bury myself at school in the piles of work all day all week not just because it needs to be done but because it makes me feel like I have a purpose, it makes me feel less lonely... that is, until I realize working that much actually doesn't improve my social life at all.  I feel like I'm stuck in an awkward stage of life; I'm just beginning my professional career, so in that respect I'm young.  But I'm also a soon-to-be 26 year old single woman whose social circles have for the most part moved on in different directions post college, and in that respect I feel old.  Society says I should have already met my prince charming (most likely in college), should be married, or at least on the road to engagement, and having kids soon.  I'm far from what society says, and though I know I'm not meant to conform to the ways of the world, I can't help but feel the pressure to find a soul mate, and because that hasn't happened yet it makes me feel even more empty or unworthy.  I could go on and on about that struggle, which always is a cycle; some days I think I could be single for the rest of my life knowing that's how I could glorify God best, other days I cry out in frustration telling God, "It's not fair." Up until today, I was on the lower end of the cycle for longer than I thought.

"Hah? Mama?!" Ayanda squealed in delight as she recognized my voice.  I squealed in return because I had called Ayanda on a whim, thinking it wouldn't connect because she rarely has the cell phone on.  "Mama, we miss you too much."  My heart sank and smiled at the same time.  After an exchange of greetings and mutual excitement, Ayanda talked and talked and talked.  She said so many incredible, funny, silly, inspiring things I started writing some of them down.  Keep in mind, she has no idea what I've been struggling with as she launches into a spiel about how she loves me: "You are an open person.  You don't keep secrets.  You tell us what's your heart.  You cry in front of us."

"A person who smiles all the time cries a lot.  For me... I laugh a lot.  But when it's time to cry, I cry a lot."

Ayanda, Johannes, Tenele, and Baby MK

Then she directed the conversation to when we departed them at the end of July.  "You were all crying when you hugged us goodbye... When you were gone, Johannes and I walked back to meet Tenele and Johannes started crying.  I laughed at first because I thought he was a man, and men don't cry.  But then he cried so hard he made Tenele and I cry even harder." 

Then she moved the conversation to why she had been crying earlier that day.  The Reed Dance (a cultural tradition where thousands and thousands of women and girls come to dance before the King where he would choose another wife [though the king doesn't choose one like in the traditional past, it is still like a rite of passage for all Swazi girls]) has started and Ayanda couldn't go because she didn't have money.  All of her family and friends had left her for the Reed Dance so she was feeling sad and alone.  "But I have to laugh a lot like right now with you, because I can't be sad for a long time," she said before she started talking about the Swazi culture of a man marrying multiple wives.  

"Can you marry a man who has five wives?" she asked me.

"No," I laughed.  "No way. Can you?"

"No.  I'd rather be alone. That's why I want to be a lawyer.  I will make money so I can live alone.  Maybe I can adopt kids.  But I can't marry a man that has more wives.  I would have a jealous!  I can't share my husband."

And if this conversation wasn't enough, she boldly states:  "Mama, I think you're going to get married... because I want a dad!"  A tear of joy clouded my vision for a brief moment.  She said exactly what my heart has been yearning for.  Every time I think about my future and whether or not God is calling me to a life of singleness or a life of marriage, I can't get past the fact that these kids (my kids everywhere) need a father, not just a mother.  More than ever, the Swazi girls need to see a man love his wife and love his kids.  During this past July, Ayanda said she didn't want a husband because they beat too much, and because "husbands are a headache every day."  More than anything, this world needs more examples of what marriage is meant to be, as with Christ and his bride, the Church.  

I laughed and told her I would love that more than anything.  Then I started spilling my heart about loneliness and struggles, to which she adamantly responded:  

"I know God will give you a perfect husband."

I laughed again...until she continued:  "Do you remember last time in Bible club when you taught us love is patient, love is kind?…I think you will have a husband who will be kind and patient.  Hey, don’t forget that verse because you teach us that verse and I won’t forget so you either. Promise?"

Through choked up words, I managed to say, "Yes, I promise."

"I love that verse.  It always makes my heart feel better.  I always start with that verse.  

So don't worry...you have to be patient."

It took a 16 year old to finally get God's message through to me.  BE PATIENT.  Because LOVE IS PATIENT!  It was like God said to me, "Hey, sweetheart, you can preach it all you want, but if you don't believe it what good is that?" So he used Ayanda, who had been a "student" during Bible Club lessons in 2011, to teach me what I needed to hear, to believe, and to live out.

"But, Mom, I need a good man, okay?  One who will say, 'Yeah, let's go to Swazi together,' not one who will just let you go alone."  

As if this conversation wasn't incredible enough, before we hung up she left me with this:

"But don't worry...sooner or later you will have your husband...and my daddy!"

Ayanda's hands forming a heart against the Swazi sunset makes the image of Hosea's Heart, Inc.