A Year Later

A year ago September while in Johannesburg, I was invited by a friend to attend BSF (Bible Study Fellowship). I had never heard of BSF and was both skeptical and interested in an international study of the Bible established by a woman for women (there are now groups for men, youth, and children). The presence of the Holy Spirit in that first meeting was electrifying. I glanced around at the women attending (every age represented, dozens of nationalities, languages, and every level of education); two common bonds...we were all BELIEVERS in the ONE TRUE GOD, and followers of our LORD and SAVIOR Jesus Christ, and we all had the SPIRIT driven heart's desire to learn from the study of His word. When I returned home, I fully intended to join one of the two groups that meets in our area, but illness and "activities" got in the way. The desire to grow in and through the study of His word, however, grew exponentially with faith, and I knew that this September I would join BSF. Two other women from my church and I joined BSF at Bible Heritage Church in Greenville. Every Thursday morning 9:15-11:15, we have group fellowship on the previous week's home Bible study and an introduction Bible lecture that leads into the following week's home study. I have been amazed at the depth of the materials, the quality of the lectures, and the sweetness of the fellowship with the women in my discussion group.  This year's study is on the book of Genesis and is proving to be an amazing journey with God. I'm LOVING it.

Last "Sleep" in Africa

Oh, Yes, Up Close and Too Personal

It is Sunday evening and I am packing for home. As much as I have loved Africa, I have to admit that I am ready to leave it, get home, catch up with family and friends and fill them in on so much more than I could ever have put into a blog.

This Young Lady Ignored Us

These Decided We Were Too Close! I Agreed!!!

Africa is everything I expected it to be; a fantasy adventure; safaris; wild beasts; strange foods; exotic peoples; cultural barriers; endless open plains, cavernous mountains;  and nothing I expected it to be; walled, barbed wired homes; interstate highways; slums of unimaginable magnitude; metropolitan cities that rival NYC; obviously educated business women walking side by side on the street with tribal women still bearing their children on their backs and their loads on their heads; flat cultivated fields that stretch as far as the eye can see...miles and miles and miles and miles;  driving for three hours and seeing NO OTHER human beings (just wild animals of incredible size; they were the ones who were free, we were the ones confined in a VERY VERY small car); driving for hours and seeing every color of skin except white; Animalist, Hindu, Muslim, Buddhist, Jew, Christian; Afrikaan, Dutch, German, English, Zulu (and eight others) Indian, Pakistani, Chinese; a person can see and hear the world here just standing on one corner for five minutes. Every where there are smiles and friendly welcome. People listen and make every attempt to understand what is being said.  Every where there are committed Christians serving a living God reaching out to those who are blind to Him. Perhaps that is what stands out to me most here, the blindness of those who have never heard of Christ because no one has told them and their willingness to listen. The language barriers alone are daunting. I met a man today who has been assigned a "new" area and must learn, at 58, a new and difficult unwritten oral language before he can even begin to "tell the good news." He is optimistic and full of joy. It will take however long it takes and he and his wife are willing to let God do what needs to be done to accomplish His will through their lives. One tills, one sows, one waters, but God harvests. The contrast I see hear is that in the States, language isn't the issue, hearing isn't the issue, willingness to listen is the issue. Too many have heard too long a message they don't deem important enough to "consider at this time." Nothing is "rushed" here. Bumper to bumper traffic as in any large city, but out in the "real Africa" (about 30 minutes in any direction outside the city) no one seems in a hurry. Perhaps geology, archeology, and eschatology are correct, Africa is the cradle of civilization and time itself is a non issue, but as Christians, we know time is of the essence. The day of salvation is NOW. Tell where ever you are to whoever will listen "the good news" in whatever language you know. In a day when I can write from Johannesburg, South Africa, and be read in real time in Duncan, South Carolina, there is no excuse as Christians for not sharing "the good news of salvation through faith in Christ Jesus." Faith and works, message and missions...God's plan...God's invitation...our decision.

Laughter and Tears

I have heard it said many times that God must have a sense of humor because He sent His Son to turn the world right side up using a rugged group of fishermen, a tax collector, and society's rejects. None of us can understand much less explain why God has chosen us to be part of His Kingdom and part of His Kingdom work, but He has and one of the many joys of choosing obedience to Christ is the laughter we share with fellow believers. In addition to the laughter, He taught us to fellowship not only in the work, but around the table. I can't begin to explain the joy we've had as a team at each meal; the laughter, the sharing of what God is revealing to each through individual experiences, the miracles before our eyes, the camaraderie of shared inconveniences, and the wonder that our Creator God cares about us enough to die for us. In the make-up of any team, God chooses whom He will; men with as many callouses on their knees as on their hands, women with tender hearts, all with a desire to serve.

There's something special about the laughter of Godly men going about the work of God. It sparks fire in the heart and joy in the spirit and draws others to it. It speaks of a father's love and of a man's commitment to "do whatever needs doing" even when it's hard, frustrating, sweaty, dirty labor. There was a long list of "jobs" that needed doing at Aurora. BRA contributed over $7000 dollars towards materials costs (much of which went to extending the boys' dormitory...a welcomed addition), but there was rust coating and painting to be done, a laundry area to be cleared and framed in, electrical and plumbing to be fixed, and playground equipment to be assembled and cemented safely in place...and (sanding, sanding, sanding) the list went on and on. Everywhere I turned this week there was a harmony of activity, men going about their business... occasionally stopping to play with a group of kindergardeners learning to play with play dough or talking with a group of curious children on their way to an activity and always in the best of good humor and laughter.

Tears started early on this trip; not tears of sadness, but the tears of tender hearts. The walk through the squatters camp brought tears of frustration and incredulity...we walked an hour in and an hour back out...with less and less conversation and a heaviness of heart that defied explanation. It was easy to spot the fathers and mothers in the group as they compared these children to their own children/grandchildren back home.  Veronica warned us not to give in to pity, or sympathy (empathy, yes) because pity/sympathy are not what these kids need. They need love, protection, opportunity, and ownership of making right choices in their lives...they don't need hand-outs. We were asked not to give them gifts of any kind...Christianity is a choice for Christ from the heart of a believer, not an opportunity to get something for nothing. The wrongs of the past can't be paid for by the good intentions of the present, however good those intentions may be. What we can do is give these children an opportunity to choose Christ, to get an education, and to better their lives.

There were also tears of joy; when the children sang in the showers the songs they had learned the day before; when they would touch our faces and say "pretty" and when they would run up to us for a hug and then not turn loose; when the ones in our classes would "finally" grasp what we were teaching and smile and say "awesome," a word T taught them the first day...after that everything became "awesome." There were tears in all our eyes on the last day when Veronica called all the children to an assembly at the cross and they sang to us "The Glory of the Lord can be seen in You, Thank you for coming to us."
At the end of any trip, there is always the question, What did we actually get accomplished? There's so much left undone! Surely the week hasn't gone so quickly! God has to remind us (me at least) that the week wasn't about me, it wasn't about what did or did not "get done" but about obedience and faith...It's keeping my eyes on Jesus and what He accomplished...one day in Heaven, one (I hope all) of these children will come up to us and say..."I remember you, you came to Africa once."

Holiday Fun Club...African Style

Donnie's Object Lesson Amazed Them

With so many students (40-45 in each group of three), it was easier to have three areas and move the children from area to area. The guys did games on the playing field (no grass, only layers and layers of dust...it hasn't really rained here in many many months); N/B/S/ and two recruited men did crafts; T/and I along with T/K did music with each pastor presenting a Bible story time on alternate days. The kids LOVED everything we did...they couldn't get enough...begging for more singing, stories and crafts. They were so proud of what they did and respectful (after Monday that is).  By Tuesday they were back to their routine and more manageable in such large groups and we had learned better how to make things work with kids who didn't understand us much of the time. We often say that children sound like angles when they sing, but we have to remember that angles don't sing, they speak. Perhaps only children can make truly beautiful music...their innocent and clear voices praising God and acknowledging the Lordship of Christ was so powerful that it brought us to tears and literally left us breathless...their enthusiasm was limitless...on Tuesday we woke to the sound of the children singing in the showers the songs we had introduced to them on Monday. They begged for us to write down the words to the songs so they would have them to take back to the camp over the weekend. They wanted to sing them to their brothers and sisters who don't get to go to school. I have a video of them singing but haven't been able as yet to make it work as a video. I need more than just click and post skills apparently.
This fun club was not really any different from all of the others I've done over the years (exhausting and rushed to get everything done on a time schedule), but every accommodation was made so we could do the games, crafts, music and Bible stories; every child was included with love and attention for the maximum opportunity to learn about Jesus; each staff member and team member involved themselves to perform whatever they were asked to do, often WAY outside their personal "comfort" zone; certainly the location is more exotic, the language barriers more difficult, and the altitude makes it difficult at times to catch a breath much less sing or last long in story telling, but God keeps reminding me that although nothing is different, everything is different; His children are the same the world over (at times I had to remind myself where I was)...and He wants them to have access to Him. I still don't fully understand why God called me to come...what I did this week could have been done by anyone...but He did call and I obeyed...the harvest is His, not mine.  Mine is the joy of growing closer to Him by doing what He has asked me to do and having fellowship with Him in the process as well as with others who are obedient to His invitation to join Him where He is working. He shows me more every day.

The Boys in My Hood

"Teach cha" Jo

I had the privilege of teaching nine 4th grade boys. There are 11 languages in SA, 9 tribal languages, Afrikaans (pronounced A free kans...the language of white South Africa), and  British English. Aurora insists that all classes be taught in English because it is the language needed for work and university study. Five of my students spoke Zulu and at least two other tribal languages. Three spoke three other tribal languages each, other than Zulu, so I was working with a total of six tribal languages and using English as a 3rd or 4th language for the majority of them. Again I have a renewed respect for teachers of ESOL classes. My only comparison is the year I had an AP class of 27 with five who spoke English as a second or third language. One of my students was a 6th grader in a 4th grade class who had missed 3 years of school because no one gave him the opportunity to go.  He is too old for the 1st grade class where he should be and too far behind for the class he is in. He wants to learn but it is very difficult for him. He can repeat the alphabet but can not recognize the letters when they are pointed out. Reading is especially difficult because he can not "sound out" his words. During the second session of the first day, I saw him with his head down and realized he was crying. He was hiding his face from the other boys so they could not see his tears. I took him outside the room and talked with him about trying his best and not worrying about anything else. From that point on, I worked with him for half an hour alone before going for the other boys. He made some progress with one on one help, but his teacher will not be able to do that. She has 40 other students in her classroom. Like other kids, they are bad to "tattle" on one another and really bad to cheat off of each other's paper, so we had "character building" discussions on a regular basis. I had purchased two posters on citizenship and character building for the classrooms. They will be used by all of the teachers. Veronica encouraged each of us to pray with the children and have them pray as well. I couldn't help but remember when I could do that in America. We all agreed that we "fell in love" with our kids the very first day.  Each has his own sad story and only one has hopes for the future. He wants to be a policeman so he can have his own car! All the cars here are SMALL but fly. Speed limit is 72 MPH. They have speed bumps everywhere in hopes of slowing people down...it doesn't work. Here STOP really does mean slide tires on pavement. None of the others seemed to understand the question "What do you want to be?" These boys age 9-11 and they can see only to the end of this school term. They each want desperately to "stay in school" and return "next year" which in SA will be in January. At Aurora there is food, there is clean water for drinking and showering, there are hugs instead of hits, there are people who love and care, there are books and crayons, and games to play on the field behind the school, and there is Jesus, the one they sing about who died for them and loves them.

First Day of School

You shouldn't start school or work on an empty stomach.  L/M (cooks extraordinaire). In spite of two ovens which didn't work, and only two burners that did, and circuit breakers that had to be coddled like babies, we had wonderful meals. These ladies worked miracles with crock pots and coffee pots. We even had sweet ice tea for lunch and dinner. For those of you who have been on trips before (construction or VBS) you know you can't do anything well unless you feed the body as well as the spirit. These ladies made sure we were well prepared with grits, eggs, gravy, and bread for the hard work of each day and the sweet fellowship of sharing each meal gave us the spiritual fortitude to face rather daunting challenges. Before we ate breakfast on the first day, all of us who were teaching did a pray walk around the school. We started in the dark and as the sun came up and we could see, we put our trust in God that He would give us the discernment to teach the kids assigned to us. We sought His protection and asked for His love to reach out through us to them.  N/B, T/S, and I taught 1st/2nd, 3rd, and 4th grade respectively. Our "inservice" on the lesson plans took only one hour. These ladies are phenomenal. They grasped the principles and the methods and took off for their classrooms. Veronica had warned us that the children would return from the weekend at the camp out of control and difficult to manage. Most had not eaten since the previous Friday. Most are not "cared for by anyone." While at the camp, these children have to endure not only the filth and the cold, but alcohol, drugs, and abuse (every possible kind).  The 1st/2nd graders are most out of control when they return because they are the youngest and most neglected. The older the children, the more able they are to adjust to the rules and discipline that Veronica insists on. She can just look in their direction and they freeze on the spot. They respect and fear her...the kind of fear born out of love and kindness but discipline that is certain and absolute. Her voice alone (which she never really raises) is sufficient to command absolute silence. It took all day for them to settle down. We each had three sessions each of one hour in length. T took on the added responsibility of doing an hour session per day with four students needing math help as well. She is a homeschooler of her own child and knew instinctively how to reach these kids both in language and math.  Veronica made it clear to us that even though we were there to help the children with their reading, we were to follow the Spirit's leadership and talk with them about what God had done in our lives and how He loves us and wants all of us to know Him. Aurora is a Christian school and there is evidence every where from the Cross that is just inside the main gate to the Bible verses that the children learn in class and the prayers that begin and end everything that is done. The children wear uniforms, line up and walk quietly from one area to another, address all of the staff as "teacher" and demonstrate respect at all times, but they are typical children and students. They "forget" their pencils, want to go to the toilet every few minutes, and want constant assurance that their "answer" is the correct one. Most of all they want to touch, hug, and pat. They smile constantly and shyly look for approval. They also push, shove, and hit...especially the small ones. The kindergarden age children come to Aurora having never played with a toy or with play dough. They have trouble with simple childhood movements...for example Veronica says they can't roll over or do forward or backward movements well because they have been carried bound on their mother's back sometimes well past toddler stage. In the camp I saw three year olds playing with sticks and rocks. There were no toys or books anywhere. All of the children love to color and they take pride in what they do, but they have trouble with the colors themselves because they don't have them anywhere except at school. What our children learn by age three, these children don't have an opportunity to learn before age six or seven if then because they are from the camp. There is no state school for them and they are too poor to attend a private school. The classrooms are cramped, dark, and void of colorfully stimulating teaching materials, but they meet all of the stringent standards required by the SA government. I was surprised to learn that these guidelines are standard for standard in comparison to the No Child Left Behind ones. If she hadn't been speaking with an Africans accent, I would have sworn I was speaking with someone from the SC state department of education. They test at the end of every year and students who don't pass have a very difficult time catching up. Schools with a high level of failure can be closed or taken over by the government agency...sound familiar????  With all that is against them, they are learning. Exhausting her self, her husband and their personal finances, Veronica is committed to God's command to give these children an opportunity to know Christ and an opportunity for a better life.                                                

Gold, Coal, and Cold

Johannesburg Coal Powered Electric Plant.
 I couldn't get a good picture of the abandoned strip mining of coal that surrounds the squatters camp we visited on Sunday afternoon. What must once have been beautiful hills of African savanna grasses is now miles and miles of desolate mounds of wasted rock. Johannesburg has enormous coal burning towers that produce electricity for one of the largest cities in the world, a city and a country that does NOT heat its homes or businesses during the short three month winter. It is spring here and for this southern girl it is cold. We slept under wool blankets every night and wore warm sweaters until the late mornings. For all of you from Tucapua that remember the Port Henry showers believe me when I say they were HOT in comparison to these at Aurora. Keep in mind that Johannesburg is 471 feet higher in altitude than Denver, Colorado. When I say COLD, I mean COLD and DRY. After visiting the camp, all of us were covered in dust (hair, clothes, nostrils, skin), a fine powdery dry dust. There is virtually NO humidity which made it at least bearable but still uncomfortable until we got used to it. We were all ready for the showers after a quick supper. I HAVE NEVER BEEN SOOOOOOOOOO suddenly shocked by the iciness that water can produce on the human skin. Even the men where squealing like girls. Although the days are warm and pleasant, when the sun goes down, the temperature drops suddenly and sharply and we couldn't shower every night until 8:00 PM.  Needless to say a nightly bath was always short and our beds the best place to get warm. The accommodations were wonderful; cots with mattresses, clean linens, wool blankets, bathroom close by (the men put up a light Sunday night so no one would get hurt trying to make our way along the narrow path between the sleeping units). We no longer needed our flashlights after 6:00 PM and it was daylight by 5:30 AM. Thanks to all of you who were praying for us concerning this matter.

I don't know why I still marvel at the goodness of God and His faithfulness in providing what we need as we need it. In 28 years of missions, you would think I would trust Him more fully. Did we have everything we wanted, NO. Did we have everything we NEEDED, YES and abundantly.

The dry dust produces stunning pink and red sunsets, as beautiful as the incredible pink and red flowers and trees that grow here. How God must look on the awesomeness of His creation and still be pleased by its beauty, but saddened by the human waste of it. The squatters camps are scattered like pock marks across the landscape of one of the poorest rich countries of the world, plundered for its gold and diamonds and human flesh. The history of this country (as is all of Africa) is a page men should have to read over and over until they, as humans accountable to a righteous God, begin to right the wrongs.