Taking the day off

I am overwhelmed.

Today I'm taking a day of solitude and recovery. I have been back from Africa for almost a full week, but I have not had quality time to process alone with Jesus. I've been getting over a bug that I caught before the trip to Ethiopia, and woke up knowing that I had absolutely nothing to give today. God's grace was made real when Abby called and said no one had called in iFast to pray today, so she gave me the number as I sat in tears, not knowing if I even had the energy to pray.

As we prayed, my heart was so heavy with pain, feeling alone, overwhelmed by life's response back in the US, and figuring out if I really understood and knew the same God that these kids in Africa knew. The same God who provides hope, promise, love, and joy to kids who have had EVERYTHING ripped from them. No mother, no father, no siblings, no home, no resources for a meal, no school supplies, no education, no dignity after being raped and severely abused on the streets, NOTHING. Being forced to care for younger siblings who are sick with severe illness, no resources for healthcare, begging on the streets after being maimed as a child so they can earn more money for a burn scar or a distorted figure, and so much more.

Yet these kids have so much hope, joy, love and servant's hearts because the only thing that has not been taken is their God. I sat in the classroom/dining room at Hope for the Hopeless' orphanage where about 60 children were living in a family. These kids have lost their mothers and fathers due to AIDS, Malaria, extreme poverty, and other illnesses and social injustices. They have lived in the orphanage for one year to 12 years or more. Mary (whose name has been changed to keep her dignity) was a 13 year old girl who immediately clung to me when I arrived that morning off of the van (which I was unsure if I would live through most of the rides we took around Ethiopia- random sheep/goats/cows/donkeys/taxis apparently have the right-of-way and drivers don't follow the "don't pass on the double yellow line" rule).

Mary immediately wanted to play volleyball with me when I arrived. She spoke little English, and I spoke little Amharic ( I knew hello, what is your name, thank you, and God bless you... great for intense conversation, huh?). We started volleying a soccer ball back and forth, and both realized that we were not very good at this sport... even deeper that we longed to know each other beyond the surface of a silly game. I almost felt like something in me tried to avoid her as we went down to the soccer field to watch yet another Team Ethiopia vs. Team America match (the Americans always lost). I tried to sneak back up to the "compound" area without being followed, but I turned around and Mary had her hand out and grabbed mine. She laughed and had a constant smile on her face as she greeted other "staff" from the orphanage on our walk back.

Many of our other female team members had their hair braided by the older girls at the orphanage the previous day. I pointed to her hair and asked if she knew how to braid. She quickly grabbed by hand, brought me to a nearby bench, and began braiding my hair... for the next 4 hours. We started outside, using "silly bands" for rubber bands to hold the braids, then the rain started so we moved into the classroom/dining area. She was very patient and every once in a while I would try and ask her more questions, "Do you have a mother?" ... "No".... "Your father?"... "No." ... "A sister or brother?".... "No". "You live in Addis?"... "Yes" Mary had come from a drop-in center with about 12 other children to celebrate the holiday (the day the Ethiopians found the ruins of the Cross Jesus had been crucified on). She also tried to ask me questions, by saying "Katy..." then speaking Amharic and leaving me to answer "I don't know". I sat in the same position while my hair was being carefully braided in tiny braids, one-by-one, meanwhile being tattooed by the boys with markers. I felt this urgency to serve, because I could not handle being served. There was an older boy, Tamnegus, who was sitting close by and he seemed to be the wallflower. He spoke English very well and began to give me a lesson in Amharic. I learned how to ask "How are you", count to 10 in Amharic, and many other random phrases.

It came time to leave for lunch (as we left to eat often, for fear of eating something that our bodies may reject...) and we took a break from the braids. Our team drove up on the side of a mountain and we picnicked next to a cow herder and his son. The view was beautiful. Then our team leader approached me and asked if I knew Mary's story since she and I had spent some significant time together that morning. He shared that Mary had been brought to the drop-in center in Addis about 2 or 3 years ago after she was rescued from 4 men who had brutally abused her physically and sexually. He said that he would connect me to the director of the program to hear the full story. I lost it. Earlier in the week, he had asked what my defining "Africa moment" was. It had just happened.

Over the past year, I have had some intense healing and restoration with acknowledging that sexual abuse was a part of my story (but not my identity). In this process, my heart was also ruined for the millions of children sold into sex trafficking in the world today. Mary was a solid and tangible picture of healing, restoration, and hope. After speaking with the program director, Fekadu, and hearing her full story, I am not the same.

I experienced hearing Mary laugh, sing praises and worship in my ear, pray to her Healer and Restorer, love so many of the kids in the orphanage, and scream "Katy I love you" over and over as we left and were lavished with love from the kids there.

I sit here in tears and even after seeing proof of God's crazy love for us and the hope that kids in Ethiopia have for the Lord. I wonder if I could still say "God, You are good" and sing the same praises these kids sang "I can't live without You Jesus" if EVERYTHING was ripped from me.

My prayer for you as you read this is not that you would feel sorry, or that it would compel you to sponsor a kid in Ethiopia, or that you would be moved to take a trip to Africa. My prayer is that you would be challenged as I am challenged today to receive the love of Christ and the hope, healing, and restoration that comes with allowing His love to ruin your life.

I am overwhelmed and forever changed.