My Place in this World

"The place that God calls us is the place where the world's deep hunger and our deep desire meet."

-Frederick Buechner

Ever since I set foot in Swaziland in 2008, I knew it would hold my heart forever.  I know the Lord has called me there for a specific purpose, and ever since I came back from my nine month teaching adventure in 2010, many people ask me, "So when are you moving there?" or "Are you going to go back long term?"  The answer in my head has always been "yes," but I just don't know when.  When, Lord, am I called to go back for good?  It's so painful living with a broken heart and being away from a place I call "home" and beautiful children that call me "mama."  Sometimes I honestly wish I didn't care because then it wouldn't hurt. But that's just a selfish attempt to protect my brokenness, when really brokenness is a beautiful thing.

Recently, especially after the way this past school year ended (and other events from my previous blog post), I've been wondering if maybe I'm not supposed to go back to Swaizland long term.  What if I am supposed to stay here in the States but just go back to Swazi and visit, lead teams like I am this summer for Hosea's Heart.  That thought turns the knife that's already in my heart.  How can I not go back?  How can I stay away much longer?

I am torn.  I am conflicted.  I feel called to two different places.  I feel called to Swaziland as my life mission, yet I feel called to the broken and empty American youth, too.  Lately, I've been secretly planning my departure for Swaziland indefinitely, but just a week ago I read something that made me stop dead in my plans.

"The place that God calls us is the place where the world's deep hunger and our deep desire meet."  As soon as I read those words, I knew what it meant (though I hardly want to believe it).  Though there is a physical hunger that is so cruel and unjust, there is a spiritual hunger that starves beyond a physical sense.  The best way I've been able to sum up my confliction with my purpose is this: If I knew I were dying right now, I would without hesitation move to Swazi.  I would go there to spend every last ounce of love and hope and breath to pour out onto these girls, these forgotten ones.  I would do everything I could to love and serve and bring them the hope and healing of Jesus Christ.  BUT, (as my good friend Lindsay Crouse had once commented) if the world were ending, I'd stay here.  I'd spend every last ounce of life and breath loving people with the light of Christ so that their spiritual hunger may finally be satisfied.

So, I guess my conclusion at this point, is that my deep desire is to bring hope and healing--and that's to the girls in Swazliand, and that's to my students right here.  Maybe it's not about where I physically am, but where my heart is.  I can't physically be in two places at once, but my heart certainly can.  As my dear brother suggested, "Your hands are needed there, Kate, but your heart is needed here."

So here I will remain until the Lord says, "Time to move."  I'll have to settle with just spending summers in Swazi, which to some might sound like plenty of time, but to me it's still so painful to be away for so long.  One thing I have found to be healing for my own heart, though, is that when the people I love here want to know and help the people I know there.  A piece of my heart heals every time a student wants to know more about Swazi, asks about my kids, or puts thoughts into action and create fundraisers for them.  But I think the greatest healing is going to come this summer, as I journey to Swazi with a group of ten team members!

My heart is already healing at the thought of my mother meeting my children, my sister seeing the faces she's been yearning to hold, my brother breaking for the hearts he'll minister to there.  My heart is already healing that my best friend from high school who has always been so supportive of me is serving with our team, that Hosea's Heart co-founder is going to be lit on fire for a cause he's only been invested in from afar, that a dear friend whom I met while counseling at Lutherdale Bible Camp all those years ago is diving into this journey, that a beautiful young teacher with a passionate heart is so joyfully excited for this mission, that a lovely friend who the Swazis adore is coming back again for the second summer, that a third young man with an incredible heart will be an example of a man of God for these children, and that a young woman from Oregon is sacrificing a year of her life to volunteer with Hosea's Heart and serve the girls of Swaziland with a heart of abandonment.  Wow.  What an incredible summer this will be to be blessed by so many incredible teammates!

Follow us on our journey at: http://www.hoseasheart.org/blog.html.

A Broken World Made Whole

(1-16-13)

I live in brokenness every day, for my job exists in a broken world.  I am a teacher but I am more.  I can’t leave work at work, because when they are broken, so am I.  No, I can’t take all their burdens, I can’t make it all go away, I can’t be their savior, and I can’t fix the pain.  But I know One that can.  The most painful part about my job, about living in the brokenness, about being broken myself, is that I can’t put the Healer to the wounds.  I can’t give the Truth I know will set them free.  I am a teacher, but it comes with pain.

When I became a teacher, I didn’t know the task I was taking on; I didn’t know the weight of the brokenness would make my shoulders hurt.  I didn’t know their lives would become so important to me.  I became a teacher because I wanted to change the world, but I didn’t know the cost it takes, the sacrifice involved for making that come true.

I exhaust myself day after day, preparing, prepping, correcting, stressing, planning, correcting, coaching, correcting…and it goes on and on.  I spend my time with my players, building team chemistry, researching ways to motivate them, wanting the best for them.  My day is full of work, from 7 to 7 I don’t set foot in my own place.  School is practically my home.  When time finally catches up with me, and I have a moment to call my own, that’s when the loneliness sinks in.  That’s when I cry.  That’s when the burden seems too much to bear.  And their faces come flooding back as if I had never left:

The boy who is bullied and tries to hide that he cares.  The one who cries himself to sleep at night, letting pain scribble its way out on to the lines of his journal.  The boy who smokes weed to escape the worries and stresses of life; he calls for help, but it’s more of a call for attention.  The boy whose father is in prison; he tried to hide the pain, the questions, the anger, the shock, but it’s all catching up with him.  He looks his father in the face behind those prison bars and cries. He cries but tries to hide.  The girl who is insecure and can’t bear to stand in front of her peers.  The girl who was in the hospital for attempted suicide.  The girl who lusts after “men” because she’s trying to deal with sexual assault from her past.  The girl who lost herself when she gave herself to a boy she thought she loved; she lost her character, her purpose, a piece of herself she’s desperately trying to gain back but doesn’t know how.  She’s hooked on that feeling of being desired. Student after student--they each have a story of brokenness, and when they can’t stand the thought, the pain anymore, they begin not to care; if they don't care, it doesn’t hurt as much, right?  But they start not to care about anything… 

But these stories are not just about some “boy” or “girl.”  No, they are my students; they are the broken hearts I see every day.  They don’t know I know all that I know.  They don’t know I cry for them.  They don’t know I break for them.  They don’t know I wish I could take the pain for them.  They don’t know the One I want to share with them.  For, He is the One who can take it all away.  He is the one who took on so much brokenness that he died under its burden, in order to bring healing and wholeness. 

So, though I wither under the weight, though I come home lonely and frustrated, when I seek for comfort I don’t have, when I am too busy for the One I yearn to share, He still holds me.  He asks for the burdens, so I’ll lay them down.  Lord, take my burdens, take my brokenness, and most of all, take theirs.  You are the Healer, and we are the wounds.  Make this broken world whole.  

Worth Fighting For

With the opening of Hope for Life home came the miracle I've been waiting and praying for since 2008 when I first met the girl I now call, umtfwana wami.  Since most of you reading have been following my Tenele story for the past few years, you all know how incredible it is that we were able to place Tenele and her baby girl, Lucia, in Hope for Life home!  Tenele lives there with five other girls, a house mother, and my dear friend Christina Hostetter.  Though the home was started because of her story, we weren't initially planning on having her move into the home (since she had a baby) and because we thought her new placement at "home" with her real mother was going to be a success.  Yet, the rollercoaster of her life continued as her mother didn't want her.  So we placed her into Hope for Life home, and for the first time in her life she's been getting counseling for everything she's been through over the course of her grim life.  She confessed to the counselor that she believes everything that's happened in her life is her fault (because that's what she's been told over and over again) and has no self-worth left.  Who can blame her?

Just when things start going well...
We find out that Tenele is 7 months pregnant.  Yes, SEVEN months pregnant.  Fortunately, it's from the same father of Lucia.  When I first heard the news I was so frustrated because I knew this would make it difficult for Tenele to stay in the home and I figured people would use that as "proof" that she's never going to change.  I was upset at her, at the situation, at me, at God, at everything for awhile until I cried out the frustration.  When I called and talked to Tenele one of the first things she said to me was, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... It was a mistake.  I really do want to change my life.  I do..."  She kept apologizing and I simply said, "Tenele, there's no need to apologize.  You are pregnant, so we'll move forward.  That's all there is to it.  I love you no matter what."  This was exactly what she needed to hear and she proceeded to explain her situation to me.

I can't help but continually break for that girl.  She has been through hell on earth; yet, people still cast her aside.  In fact, there are people involved in the girls home board in Swazi that want Tenele out of the home and don't believe she belongs there.  The argument is that girls like Tenele don't change, they are bad examples and shouldn't be in the home.  She's pregnant, and that's not okay.  While on the one hand, I can see where they are coming from, on the other they are only reinforcing what Tenele has been told all her life: she's not worth it.  

Can you imagine what it's going to be like for her when she's ripped from the home... again?  Can you imagine fighting HOPE for your entire life because it only brings you pain because you don't believe you're worth anything...then FINALLY experiencing hope only to have it ripped from you again? Can you imagine how damaging that will be?  I can only hurt for her already.  But she's tough, she'll make it through, no doubt...as she said to me the day her real mother told her she didn't want her, "One day... one day she'll remember me... one day."  Tenele hopes for "one day," and now that it's here, how can it be taken away?

When we come to Christ, he gives us new life.  We are a new creation in is presence; he does not punish us for our past.  Why would we punish Tenele for hers?  Tenele came into the home just a month ago, she came into the home already pregnant, still trying to survive in Mangwaneni as a man kept trying to come after her and rape her.  She now has safety, she now has a home, she now can see a new life!  For the first time, Tenele is going to church regularly, receiving counseling, consistent food, sisterly love, and motherly compassion from Christina.  I firmly believe that Tenele will run Hope for Life home one day.  I see and I can sense it.  In a decade Tenele will be the house mother, caring for girls like she once was, sharing her story and changing their lives!

Pray for this to come true!  Pray for Tenele.  She IS worth fighting for.  She needs to stay in the home, no matter who wants her gone.  Pray for her protection and for compassion of those around her.  Pray for her baby to be put into the hands of a loving mother and father, as Tenele does not want the baby.  Pray for the battle and celebrate the victory that is already being won over Tenele's heart.

I don't know the future, I don't know that best option, I don't know the plan. But I do know this...
She is, was, and always will be WORTH FIGHTING FOR.

Relentless.

Hosea's Heart Answering the Cry: "Please, make me something."

Three years ago, Bongiwe begged me in a letter, "Please, make me something."  She wasn't asking for material things, for money, for food, etc.  She was crying out for hope.  

Now three years later, this plea that started the dream behind Hosea's Heart has now turned into a praise.  For the past year, donors all over have been raising funds for "Litsemba Lemphilo," Hope for Life home.  The home, created for abused and at-risk for prostitution girls, has been renovated and refurnished to house up to 16 girls with two respite rooms for emergency situations.  As of this April 2013, Hope for Life home officially opened!  It currently embraces six girls, one Swazi house mother, and Christina Hostetter, our long term volunteer from Hosea's Heart. Christina, an incredible woman who has been my inspiration since I met her on our first mission trip to Swazi in 2008, currently resides in Swazi at the home as the social worker.  Unfortunately, she has only three weeks left of her year long commitment serving for Hosea's Heart.  Sandy Gallardo, from Oregon, will be her replacement this June and will live in the home for the next year!

Not only are we excited about the official opening of the home, but we are thrilled that the girls already placed at the home can sense new hope and a new life!

 Nine year old Sindi told Christina,

"...Thank you for make me a person..."

What a beautiful fulfillment of the plea that started the mission of Hosea's Heart!  Join Hosea's Heart in continuing to answer the call, "Please, make me something."

Who I Am -- Poems from Swazi Students

"I feel depressed about hatred, poverty, and prostitution." 

-Celane, male, age 14

I Am Poem from Thulile, age 15:
"I was a young girl looking for purpose in life.
I am a young girl who knows what life is...it's too difficult, but people don't know what is life, they keep doing wrong things.
I feel love when I see young girls fight for their life.
I become angry when I see young girls become pregnant.
I become sad when they throw away the key they have for their future.
I become worried about myself when I see young girls pregnant.
I feel depressed about them because they don't know what they're doing in their life.
I seem happiest when they know the Lord God is for everyone who needs him. I am sorry for everyone who has a big problem, but let me tell you that you be the hero to yourself and kind to your opponent.  Forget about what people are saying but know that the Lord will be with you forever.
Sometimes we depend on our friends but they tell us bad things, that is why some get pregnant, but girls, let me tell you that money cannot buy love but happiness and peace can buy love forever."

I Am Poem from Zamokuhle, age 12:
"I was a young girl.
I am looking for a purpose in life.
I feel loved when my mother buys me school shoes.
I become angry when people do not hug me.
I appear sad when my friends don't play with me.
I taste success when I can eat ice-cream.
I feel depressed about my classmates.
I become worried when my teacher Ms. Kate don't come to school for one week.
I appear confident when I passed English.
I seem frustrated when people die of HIV and AIDS.
I look forward to my future because I want to help people."

Poem from Wandile, age 12:
I am a boy.
I feel loved when I have money.
I become angry when my mother is beating me.
I appear sad when I fail at school.
I seem happiest when I'm eating.
I taste success in sweets.
I feel depressed when I'm fighting.
I become worried when my friends are fighting.
I appear confident when we are writing a test.
I seem frustrated when I'm angry.
I look forward to the future because I want to be a doctor.

Poem from Celane, age 14:
I was born in Swaziland.
I am a boy.
I become angry when [soccer] players miss the ball.
I seem happiest when the poem was describing a soccer game.
I taste success whenever I write a soccer composition.
I feel depressed about hatred, poverty, and prostitution.
I hate when I can't solve the problems of the people.