We traveled 3 days and then some to get here.
2 overnight buses, 2 planes, 4 borders (5 if you count the fake country we left from).
Smelly, sticky, and so sleepy,
finally we pull into the bus station.
Instantly I'm greeted be a swarm of men offering to carry my bag.
I mean...if you really want to go dig it out from under the pile of about 800 others
by ALL means- go for it sir. It's the big heavy black one.
Oh you think I'm beautiful?
Yep, yes, thank you...uh huh, thank you, yep, bye bye now. This is Africa.
We finally arrive in Zimbabwe
but we have absolutely no idea how or where to meet up with our contact.
We don't know what he looks like
Will he be holding a sign?
What would such a sign even say?
Is he aware that our bus arrived 5 hours late? In real life this would totally stress me out.
Normal people would make a plan beforehand for these kind of things.
Instead, we just look around the station for a nice, white, christian looking man haha.
No such luck.
We don't have a sim card for our phone to try to call him.
There's no internet anywhere.
We have no money in the correct currency.
Ok..umm God...how the heck do we find this guy?!
I'm starting to think we'll spend all month stuck ministering at the bus station. This is Africa.
Later that day our team sits in the backyard
under the shade of a beautiful guava tree.
We're given the rundown of how things work around here-
school in the bush
never, ever show your knees. Its seen as scandelous.
prophetic treasure hunting
leadership conference over the weekend
raising babies from the dead
house of prayer
oh and a holy ghost party every tuesday night.
Hold the phone. Whats a holy ghost party?
...sure! This is Africa.
Piled 24 people deep in a comby
we head into the bush from ministry.
I'm sitting under the seat on the floor
with one girl on my lap,
a young boy at my feet,
and a mans knees banging against my head at head bump.
His sweat is now my sweat too.
Yikes he smells...nice. This is Africa.
As I'm looking out the window
the scenery quickly changes from buildings and traffic
to corn fields and giant rocks
and houses made from cloth rags and sticks.
Turning off the path into the school
my heart is instantly overwhelmed by whats around me.
its everything you would "expect" Africa to be
but the intensity of actually being physically there in that moment
is impossible to even faintly describe with words.
At the sound of our tires grinding through the dirt
half naked kids with swollen bellies
come crawling out of holes,
jumping out of trees,
and flying off of rocks everywhere
running towards the van to greet us.
The sound of little voices shouting
"shumba! shumba! shumba!"
suddenly fills the air around me.
My eyes are doing their very best to stay strong and dry.
I can't believe this place exists in the same world as my home in Texas. This is Africa.
Loraine asks if I want to walk with her to get the water
and I eagerly jump at the chance.
She speaks pretty good english so as we walk
I ask her about her life.
She's 13 years old but she looks at least 20.
Living in the bush is the only thing shes ever known.
She spends her time taking care of her younger siblings,
cooking and cleaning, trying to learn english, and praying to God.
20 minutes later we arrive at the well.
She asks me if I want to try to pump the water
and of course I say yes!
10 long minutes later my arms are about to fall off
but I've pumped enough water to fill up one jug.
Thats enough to last her family maybe a few hours.
Loraine will make this same hard trek for clean water at least 3 more times today.
I try to life the jug and carry it back for us but its too heavy.
Loraine just laughs at me
and lifts it right up onto her head.
She carries it like that
with a smile of joy on her face the whole entire way back. This is Africa.
At the end of every day,
my feet are coated with thick layers of red dirt
my boogers are black
and my clothes are covered in a good mixture of
dirt, drool, and probably some pee.
My arms are limp from holding kids all day.
But my heart is so full. This is Africa.
Wild.
Rich.
Spirit.
Passion.
Love.
Laughter.
Fresh.
Strength.
Prayer.
Beauty.
THIS is Africa.
God rocked my world this month
and I decided that its finally that time...
I mean the death was good and all
and so SO necessary.
But I'm more than ready to walk into the life
thats ahead!
I know there's so much coming
and I'm stoked.
I'm walking into this next season of ministry
changed
healed
refreshed
strong
encouraged
bold
oh yeah... and baptized :)
My watch reads 2:59.
I can see all their little feet
restlessly poking through the bottom of the gate.
I take a deep breath and walk towards them.
I know there’s dozens of kids behind that wall
but my mind instantly goes to her.
Her smile,
her laugh,
those beautiful eyes.
I can't wait to see her.
I turn the handle and push open the gate.
Right away little hands begin
reaching for my camera,
my shirt,
my hand,
my watch.
but I’m not phased by any of it, really
because today I just want her.
Glancing up from all the chaos
I catch her eyes and we smile.
I don’t speak her language
and she doesn’t speak mine
but we don’t need words in this moment,
I know what she’s saying to me.
Leah...are you ready to catch me? Absolutely I am, sweet girl.
I've been waiting all day.
She takes a quick look around
and clears a path between us and all the others
Then with all the trust in the world
she takes off running my way
and jumps effortlessly into my arms.
I pull her in tight,
her curly hair tickles my face.
She wraps her innocent 8-year-old arms around my neck. We just laugh and laugh and laugh.
Then I pull her back from me just enough
to look her in the eyes
and tell her how happy I am to see her again.
She doesn’t know it,
but in this seemingly small moment she makes my whole day.
Because God speaks to me in pictures.
He knows my heart
and what I need.
He knows that sometimes
I just have to see things
and touch things
for them to get real to me.
And I really believe that every day at 3:00
God chooses to give me a gift
through this precious 8 year old girl named Vera.
She reminds me of myself.
And of God’s crazy good love for me.
He sees me
in the same way I see Vera.
He loves to see me smile
And he loves to hear my laugh. He cherishes those moments
when its just me and Him.
“I miss catching my girl”
God whispered to my heart today.
And I knew right then
that he was waiting for me
to run and jump into his ready arms.
Well...
let's clear a path Papa because I'm running your way :)
I can’t even count the amount of times I’ve said those words lately.
Sometimes I think God’s up there looking at me thinking- haha! gotcha again…
There’s been a huge theme to the first 4 months of my Race.
And it has nothing to do with poverty I’ve seen
or the incredible people I’ve met
or the churches and contacts I’ve worked with.
Because to be completely honest with you-
ministry has no doubt been the easiest part!
It comes natural to me.
serving and loving people is what I signed up for…
Indeed ministry is good. So good.
But let me tell you what doesn’t come natural to me…DEATH. When I signed up for this shindig I wasn’t really prepared to die.
And definitely not like this.
I’m learning every day it seems like, that in order to get more of God things just have to die.
And month one I was pretty cool with it.
My personal space has to die?
Fine.
Death to my type A tendencies?
Okie dokie.
You want me to talk about my feelings with my team?
Urgh. Okay.
But month two God decided to take it up a notch.
And I remember thinking either he or I must be crazy.
Surely I didn’t hear him right.
You want me to let go of my story?
Tell my team?
I’m sorry but I cant…err...won’t.
I don’t want them to know me like that.
It’s too ugly and messy. Death to that, He said to me one day
as I hammered away at cement blocks in Haiti.
And then on the way out the door onto Romania
sneaky debrief happened.
And crazy God said-oh by the way…
that bitterness?
It needs to die.
And the anger needs to die.
the shame, the unforgiveness, the guilt, Leah, it all just needs to die.
Urgh God…you’re killing me. That’s the point My child…THATS the point.
I so desperately wanted to call it quits right there.
I did not come on this trip for all this.
Just let me do ministry please.
But God and I had a heart to heart
where I straight up told Him everything I felt.
And in that moment I realized
that what I wanted more than anything
was for someone to look me in the eyes
and tell me that its worth it.
Well…God is just good like that
and he knows my heart better than I do.
He answered my prayer
with a scribbled note on a scrap of paper.
Can you guess what it said?
Keep going sister. It will be worth it.
So I left all my dead stuff in Haiti
and hopped on a plane to Romania
raw and exposed.
But here it gets good.
Month 3 in Romania changed SO much for me.
Because the first two months just felt like death. Literally.
God kept putting to death all these things...
but I really struggled with why?
Month 3 I got answers.
I started to hear Gods voice.
Or maybe I just started to recognize it over all the rest?
…I’m not really sure.
But I do know he had to put to death
all that crap first
because it was clogging my flow to Heaven.
Plumber God keeps doing his thing
and it stinks and its sucky. (ha)
But all of the sudden the flow opens up
and my prayers are being answered left and right.
I’m talking crazy prayers.
Impossible things.
Ramblings.
Bold things I didn’t really mean to pray
but felt like I should pray
He’s answering them.
Thinking about this still gives me goosebumps.
Its freaky.
Ah. There’s more. I love and enjoy my teammates today
more than I ever thought possible two weeks ago
when every team changed except ours.
And that’s completely a result of some things in me-
like my expectations,
my preferences,
my frustrations over stupid little things,
my dream team,
getting put to
death.
And more-
I’m realizing how God has gifted me with a voice.
Not a singing voice.
But a life-speaking voice.
He puts words and truth on my heart like nobody’s business.
But I’ve always been scared to speak boldly.
Scared to offend
Scared to be the only one
Scared of what people think.
But I’m working on it :)
And of course
it requires more things to die!
My sarcasm (yikes)…it needs to die
My impatience, my pride, my negativity,
my independence and need to control things
And on and on and on.
Im in process with this one haha.
I’m starting to get the feeling that
God never intends to stop asking
things in me to die.
But I’m learning to be cool with that.
To push through and hang in there. Because the end result is always more Jesus.
This month something happened.
Somewhere in the middle of amazing ministry,
late night phase 10 games,
an intimate night of worship,
deep conversations at the lunch table,
and laughing until my insides were exploding, I realized that I need this.
I need Meagan to just understand
without me having to say anything at all.
I need Sam’s vulnerability
to bring my team into the deeper places
and Rachel’s radical faith
to push me into more and more of the Spirit.
And after a long day of logistics work in the church office
I just need to hear Tyler’s beautiful laugh
as that reminder that I’m home for the night
and its ok to turn my brain off for a while.
I need both the gentleness of Michelle
and the honesty of Candice
to keep me feeling raw and known,
yet fully loved and cared about.
I need Suzanne to ask those spiritual questions
that most people just write off too easily.
And I need Reagan and Rebekah beside me-
preferably every minute of the day
…but mainly during the Jesus talks.
because they’re wrestlers like me
and it’s just better when we’re together. (start humming Jack Johnson song here…)
I need Jesse’s passion for life always
to keep me from skipping by moments so quickly
or writing things off as small or insignificant.
And I need Matt’s genuine love for people
to give me that much needed reality check
when I’m too quick to open my mouth
and slow to extend grace
This is that big scary community thing
that I’ve heard so much about
but never seen done well.
You hold my story
and I'll hold yours,
forever aware of the value and weight
of such a sacred thing.
I'll forgive you for throwing my earrings down the drain
and you forgive me for leaving my crap all over the table.
I'll "share" my ice cream and you'll give me an oreo.
I'll respect your journey
if you'll respect mine.
M&M…I think we did it well this month.
Because this girl right here
Is finally accepting that I need people.
And that it’s not a sign of weakness,
but of strength and growth and maturity. Craziness.
late night ice cream
dance parties in the kitchen
thousands of dollars in support raised
using a spoon to scoop water off the floor
playing Romanian dress up
starting every day with 2 hours of prayer
questions of the day with Raul
tears at the table
impossible lists
feedback in the moment
telephone Pictionary
infirmary room
toilet paper coffee filters
hot water and healthy cereal
vegetable class 101
meals for 12
The Lord didn’t wake me up in the middle of the night and say- “Leahhh, this is your Father speaking. I want YOU to go on the World Race!”. Although that would’ve been sort of awesome…and really freaky.
I’m not a world race prodigy child either… one of those who knew for years and years that as soon as they finished college they wanted to go on the race and saved all their pennies and stalked everyone’s blogs. Nope. I actually never thought this kind of trip was a possibility for my future. At all.
I didn’t pray about applying for months like I probably should’ve. I'm a terrible christian. I pretty much just pulled up the website, clicked apply, and that was that. One minute I was working on my resume and applying for “real life jobs” and the next thing I knew I was crumpling my resume up in the trash.
I didn’t get a phone call from God. I didn’t have a vision. I didn’t get those holy spirit goosebumps. I didn’t walk down an aisle and dedicate my life to becoming a full time missionary.
Recently I've noticed that alot of people we meet around the world are really interested in how we got here and why we’re doing the World Race. And most of the time the response from my squad is-
“I just knew that God was calling me to do this”.
Now would probably be a good time to say that I’m not knocking that answer. At all. Because I genuinely believe that lots of the people on my squad were specifically called to the World Race and some of their stories about how they got here are just crazy cool. I just look at things differently (shocking…I know).
BUT here’s how I got here- God wrecked my life and broke my heart.
He said no to every single plan I tried to make.
He closed every door.
I'm talking like slammed them shut.
And so I sat at my house one day
staring at a fancy diploma
and a resume full of odd camp jobs and coaching gigs.
and I decided to give it up.
my future.
my past.
my sin.
my selfishness.
my dreams.
my fears.
my chains.
my reputation.
my pride. I just gave it all up.
And in that moment God called me to something. But it wasn’t the World Race. Not exactly. He called me to more. God called me to love people with the love that He promised to pour into me every day. He called me to live differently...to look different, to spend my money and my time and my energy differently. And to dedicate my life to sharing His love and grace with everyone I meet.
See, here's the thing- I don’t really want to be a missionary. I don't know why...but the word just weirds me out.
And I don’t want to spend this one year of my life 2012 living radically and then go back to America and live comfortably hunky dorey again, always referring back to “that one time on the world race”. That’s definitely NOT what my calling looks like.
I am blessed beyond belief to have the opportunity to spend this year serving God’s people around the world. The magnitude of everything I left behind or had to give up pales SO much in comparison to what I’ve gained since I said yes to this journey. It blows my mind every day that this is my life.
And yet in my dreams there’s really no end to my world race. There’s always more orphans to hug, more starving children, more widows to clean houses for, and more beautiful mountain villages that haven’t heard the name of Jesus.
God didn’t call me to go on the World Race.
He called me to follow Him.
Radically. Passionately. And with all of my heart.
So I answered THAT call.
And wow. Its been good.
I'm brain dead tired haha. So here's the best I could muster up to let you all in on how the month in Haiti went! I hope you at least get a good laugh :)
ah hem.
Haiti Oh Haiti
You’ve made my bones so achy.
But I will never forget
You were such a big hit.
We poured a lot of concrete
That was really…neat.
And my knowledge of construction
Has made quite a big eruption.
My hands are dry and blistered
and we wake up so dang early that I have to whisper.
I loved living in my tent
But it really needs a vent.
The sound of the ocean
Has won over my devotion.
We ate lots and lots of bread
Good thing I’m not looking to wed.
Our whole squad lived together this month
Which means sometimes I just had to say “humph!”
We met a crazy girl named Kim
She’s really quite the gem.
Her dreads are really rad
If they were on me they’d just look bad.
Our squad leaders are pretty cool too
Although sometimes it’s probably like working at a zoo.
Haitians are the best
Seriously they ace every test.
They work like machines
It must be in their genes.
The sun here is so hot
More aloe vera must be bought.
But Haiti I love you so
A lot more than your average Joe.
I feel like most people who walk into Haiti look at the poverty and the destruction and the filth and think it’s pretty hopeless here. I could tell you facts about the earthquake and its destruction and then remind you that Haiti is the poorest country in the western hemisphere and still the picture that would paint for you of this place would barely scratch the surface of what its actually like to live here.
Because truth is the majority of people here live under cardboard boxes and tarps. There’s no banks…none. Trash literally fills the streets, internet is a rare gold, and the rubble and remains of buildings everywhere seem like constant reminders of tragedy I’m sure these people would love to forget. The atmosphere in Haiti is unlike any place I’ve ever been. It’s every man for himself and there’s no respect or value placed on human life. The other day one of the dogs that hangs out at our house got pancaked (I’m talking like…flattened) in the street right in front of the team’s eyes. This morning a motorcycle tried to speed past our truck before we turned into church and instead crashed right into it and now has a shattered femur. Haiti is just an intense place.
And honestly, when we first drove into Haiti on the bus last week I felt completely overwhelmed by what I saw. But then we arrived at our compound where we’re staying for the month. It was dark and late and we’d been traveling all day, but as soon as my feet touched the ground I felt something different…hope! There’s such a refreshing sense of hope here.
The long rocky road we’d been riding on for hours brought us up to a large red gate guarded by a group of bright smiling Haitians. All 46 of us grabbed our packs and started uncramping our bodies and pouring out of a bus that was meant to hold maybe 20 people. Once inside we all stumbled underneath what the people around here call the “choukoun” (sha-koon). Somehow it manages to create the perfect atmosphere that makes us feel ever so slightly like we’re at a beach resort but also keeps us very aware that we’re nowhere near home and this isn’t vacation.
The warm food on the table the first night we arrived was enough to make me do a happy dance. The toilets and showers were luxuries I had refused to even dream about this month until I saw them here with my own eyes. Concrete pillars line the choukoun and provide the perfect support for us to hang hammocks on. Our whole squad is together for ministry this month so there’s a bunch of really wonderful people around me all day every day. But I’m super thankful for the special quiet places around the compound that provide an escape from the chaos and have pushed me into some much needed intimate time with the Lord. And as if all that isn’t enough… I fall asleep every night to the sound of waves crashing against the shore because our tents are literally 20 feet from the Caribbean Sea.
Then there’s church. Sure, it’s in the same building that functions as a small school during the week. And yes, it’s on the same construction site where we cut rebar and get covered in concrete every day. But on Sundays the place is transformed into a little bit of heaven and I love it. The same kids that come to the school during the week covered in snot and filth, wearing dirty scraps of clothing or nothing at all will walk into church every Sunday wearing their whitest whites and nicest dress. Worship starts and at the sound of their voices, almost immediately, the spirit of God rushes in the place and it gets so good.
In the middle of worship the pastor takes up the offering and what happens in that moment is seriously incredible…they own next to nothing but they give whatever they can. Every person in the building brought up something-mostly small coins that probably don’t add up to much at all. And yet from the time they left their seat all the way down to the offering bucket, the people never stopped smiling or singing. I love it because I just know that the church here really gets it. They’ve found joy in the midst of pain and they know hope even when their physical surroundings look hopeless.
As each day passes here I realize more and more how small my faith was that first night driving into this country. But God has been so faithful to show me good things. Like climbing trees to pick ripe mangos, and playing pick up soccer games on the beach, and singing Journey songs while pouring buckets of concrete for 8 hours. Or playing charades with Haitians to communicate simple words like hammer or wheelbarrow only to have them to laugh at me for 5 minutes and then respond with “so you’re trying to tell me you need a hammer?” in english. Haha yes… thanks a lot dude.
I’m learning that there’s a choice here in Haiti. It’s easy to look around at the poverty and the destruction and ask a lot of questions. And then when there’s no good answers or solutions you’ll probably feel overwhelmed by all of it like I did. OR, you can look around at all the rubble and choose to really believe that God redeems and that he’s pretty freakin good at taking a mess and turning it into something beautiful. Sure, life in Haiti isn’t pretty right now. The people here have been through a lot and it’s left the country empty and broken.
But we’ve all been there, right?
Maybe for you it wasn’t a physical earthquake. But I bet there’s something that left you staring around at nothing but a pile of rubble. Do you blame God? Do you let anger or bitterness completely steal your joy? I think one of the reasons I like Haiti so much is because it reminds me of my story and what God did in my life. He picked me up from my mess, dusted me off, and started putting all the pieces back together. For a while I’m sure I looked a lot like Haiti on the outside…one big disaster zone. But when I look closely, he was working. Just like he’s working here in this country. And I know it’s easy to get distracted by the rubble. I know it’s harder to look for hope. But I promise it’s there. And you have a choice.
I chose to believe that God redeems.
What about you?
…I sat on the toilet seat only to jump right back up because it was freezing and hurt my butt! I slept in my bed with lots of pillow and soft sheets. Ironically, I woke up with a really sore back and a crick in my neck. I had access to a bazillion outfits in my closet and yet I wore the same thing the whole time I was home.
You see, I haven’t really been overseas long enough to make me melt at the sight of mcdonalds or flushing toilets or dessert. Ok…mayyybe I melted at the dessert table today, but the rest…truly didn’t phase me. I’ve actually really enjoyed living the simple life overseas and I love all that God is showing me and teaching me through that. So I can promise you that while I’m sure some of my squad would’ve jumped at the chance to go back home for a few days…I was quite content in the Dominican Republic.
But last weekend, God decided it was time to get the party started and brought this incredible man up to be with Him forever.
This is my uncle Jerry.
Today we celebrated his life. I know that term is thrown around often with funerals and yet rarely is it ever truly a celebration. I wish the whole world could’ve been in the church with my family today because Jerry’s life gave us every reason to celebrate!
A lot of the world would look at Jerry and say sorry…as if he and the people around him missed out on something. But honestly, if you don’t have someone like my uncle in your life…IM the one who’s sorry.
He lived 51 years of the absolute best life. I can’t even imagine what thats like…thinking about it literally blows my mind! He never knew worry, never felt stress, never knew lust or jealousy or bitterness. Anger and sadness were hardly words that Jerry even heard.
Everything he did was pure and innocent. Sitting in funeral stuff yesterday and today listening to everyone tell stories about him, I just kept hearing the words of Jesus saying that whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child will not enter it.
Thanks to my uncle, I have the most vivid picture of what that looks like. For example, in the last year of his life Jerry loved his Bible. He hardly went anywhere without it. He would read his Bible all the time. The funny thing is…my uncle can’t read! You would look over and his Bible would be upside down and sideways but his lips would be muttering something 100 mph! I love it. You tell Jerry that Jesus loves him and he believes you. You tell him Jesus died for him and he says ok. You tell him he’s going to heaven and he just smiles. Pure faith…so beautiful. I decided today that I’m actually super jealous of him.
When my uncle was living on his own, he would eat a different meal each night of the week. Pizza, pancakes, etc. This helped him both with him grocery shopping and keeping track of what day of the week it was. Friday was always pancakes. If you tried to get him to eat pancakes any other day of the week he absolutely would not do it. Pancakes are for Fridays!
Uncle Jerry had no enemies. Everyone who met him, loved him. He was such a light. My mom said it perfectly yesterday. She said that when she sat down to try to write, she couldn’t put together full sentences so she decided to just start writing down words that came to mind when she thought of him. When she looked down at her list it read something like- pure, gentle, loving, kind, faithful, innocent, laughter, caring, peaceful, etc. Looking down it was clear that she’d pretty much just written down all the fruits of the spirit from Galatians 5.
My uncle was specially created and formed by my God. You couldn’t deny it if you tried. His life radiated with the Spirit of God. I miss that already. Thank you GOD for such a blessing.
This is the most random post ever. My team can laugh at me because I'm usually super anal about my words and grammar and checking to make sure everything flows well. But really...I dont care about that tonight...strange. I just wanted to share him with you all because he was wonderful. So so wonderful. And I can't keep someone like that to myself :)
Uncle Jerry taught me and my family so much- unconditional love....child-like faith...pure joy...but most importantly...pancakes on Fridays!!
Ps- I'm hopping back on a plane in a few hours back to the DR then on to Haiti. Blog (plus video) coming this week about my month in the Dominican Republic. God did amazing things :)
