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If I had one emalangeni (the currency in Swaziland -- equivalent to about fifteen cents) for every time I attempted to update the blog in the last three weeks, I definitely wouldn't be an independently wealthy missionary living in Africa, but I'd have much more in my wallet than I do now. The range of emotion we're feeling is quite expansive, and it's so difficult to put it all into words.
We just hit the six month mark in Swaziland -- we're now on six months and three days. Never a doubt there has been about whether we're supposed to be here, never a thought in six months of wanting to go back to the States, and we give Him all the glory for that. But, that doesn't mean that there haven't been tough things to work through. Not one moment of huddling in the corner sobbing, rocking back and forth, but still some things to sort as we define our "normal" in Swaziland. Tears stream as I work on this post, but they don't stem from a sadness, but rather a process.
We don't belong in the States, at least not at this point. We've seen too much, we're experienced such a heart transformation, and He needed to get us to this place. To us, moving to Africa seemed like the next step, and the grace bubble we were in as we parted ways with our family, friends, and "stuff" now seems like a huge blur. Did we really do what we did? There's no way we could now assume our then positions in life in the States and go on as we did -- fitting in and finding our niche. As much as we miss so many people and places, we know that home for us is in Africa -- at least for now.
But, calling Swaziland home doesn't necessarily mean that we feel like we truly fit in here either. We're totally odd ducks here -- sore thumbs with white skin. We've gone from the States, where there is such an individualistic "every man for himself" sense, to Africa -- where everything is so relational. If someone falls, everyone around is expected to help him up. And, when the Africans see the mulungu (white person) -- especially the mulungu missionary, we are doubly that person. Through the eyes of a Swazi, Children's Cup has come to save spiritually, save physically, save emotionally... and we can give, give, and give until there's nothing left of us -- and after all of the giving, we seems as though we haven't made a dent. Africa is a huge continent. However, that's why God doesn't need us -- it's a whole lot more about what He's doing in us at this point than through us.
I've come to the end of me very quickly. I wouldn't trade our lives here for anything or choose to be anywhere else, yet that doesn't mean that there aren't kinks to work out. I have huge kinks. It was much easier in the States -- boundaries were more apparent, and people around us could sense when you had reached the end of yourself. But the need is so great here, and it's very easy to reach the end. I'm quickly discovering that it's essential to look to Him to guide each and every step -- not just that big step across the pond that our family took in February. I must seek His wisdom and discernment in everything that I do, no matter how small. It's also time for me to reread Henry Cloud's "Boundaries."
In the States, we found it pretty easy to keep our life neat and tidy. We could go here and there, serve in inner city Minneapolis when we wanted to, be wrecked on a mission trip when we wanted to, bless someone with a meal when we wanted to, but at the end of the day we could return to suburbia in our cute little neighborhood and block everything (including the needs) out -- escape was so very easy. We could choose to be wrecked, yet it was easy to keep at a safe distance, and in small doses.
In Swaziland, nothing is neat and tidy. The need is great, and it surrounds us. We're completely immersed, and we can't escape nor can we tuck it away and pull it out again when it's convenient. It's across the street, at the grocery store, everywhere we turn, multiple times per day. People are going to bed hungry, people are dying of HIV, atrocities are happening, people are desperate. Some needs are truly legitimate, while others make us think twice. It's the "give a man a fish... teach a man to fish" premise. When does helping hurt, and how does a homeschooling mommy involved in ministry, worship, and what feels like a million other things, while very quickly reaching the end of herself, teach someone else to fish?
Oh, this is a process. We're so thankful to be here and for everyone who continues to send us, pray for us, check in on us, encourage us, and love us. Our support team, there and here, is incredible. What awesome loved ones God has provided for us in the field! And knowing that we are where He desires for us to be, regardless of what we feel and the uncomfy things we may experience, is bigger than all of this.
