TASGRACO Conference: Damu ya Yesu

Today was the last day of the TASGRACO (Student Bible club) Conference. After this week, I think I can understand a bit more of what Paul was saying in Philippians 2:17,

“But even if I am being poured out like a drink offering on the sacrifice and service coming from your faith, I am glad and rejoice with all of You.”

The only way I can describe what I felt after each long day was this complete emptiness, in that I had poured out every ounce of Christ’s love that I had within me, and yet I was so full of joy for all of the students and how the Lord was working in them. I’m realizing that the more I give of myself to those around me, the Lord fills me with more and more of His love, His strength, and His grace.
That, darling reader, is a beautiful experience. '

The conference was a blast. I was worried about being able to get to know the students, but they quickly opened up to me. It’s amazing how you can connect with people using so little verbal communication.

We simply laughed at my poor Swahili, played games during the breaks, and during the services they taught me some of their dances. My goodness, they dance a lot. It’s so great. For those of you who are curious about what the dancing here looks like, think line dancing with a lot of African flavor.

As far as my teaching sessions go, I was just blown away by the ways God used my feeble attempts to reach out to them. I knew you were praying, and I reminded myself anytime I grew discouraged or tired. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. God is good. It’s not very often that girls and guys break off into different groups for their classes, thus these girls don’t get a lot of teaching on issues like sexual purity, self-image, gossip, etc. You know, girl talk. And oh yes, girl talk is one thing I can do! My goal was to give a biblical perspectives on these issues and provide practical ways for them to implement them in their lives. I pray that I was able to cross the language and cultural barriers to accomplish this task. I will say this, they were certainly listening, and that’s huge.

Teaching during the breakout sessions (Brook was translating)

Just before one of these sessions the Holy Spirit was heavy on my heart to spend more time on the sin issues we had been discussing. I sensed that they were grasping the concepts but something was missing. I completely tossed my lesson plan and just talked to them straight up. (well, as straight up as you can get with a translator.) I challenged them to take action during those moments and prayerfully consider a specific sin their life that they wanted to turn away from. I had them write it down on a piece of paper and fold it up so that it was just between them and God. From there we went to their cooking fire and circled around it.

With the phrase, “God’s grace is greater than our sin” just bursting from within my soul, I challenged them to throw their pieces of paper in the fire as a symbol of letting go of that sin. I will never forget the sight of them one by one tossing their papers in as the warm flame grew larger, and the crescendo of their voices grew stronger as they sang,

damu ya Yesu inasafisha kabisa

(the blood of Jesus cleans us completely)
nguvu za Shetani zimeshindwa

(the power of Satan has been defeated)

Oh how I wish you could have been there with me. The presence of God was thick in that little room with the crude dirt floors. Their sweet harmonies left an echo within my heart.

Rukwa Valley: a well-watered garden.

I have to say, spending time with the missionary wives down here has been so encouraging. They are great examples of godly women who show such strength and courage by ministering here.

To put it simply,
I’m inspired by them.

One of their ministries is doing a women’s group each week. Right now, the women get together and learn how to crochet different things, which provides another opportunity to make a living through selling hats, baby booties, etc. After crocheting together for a bit, they have a devotional and spend time in  prayer and in the Word. I love that they are able to impact the women by meeting both their physical and spiritual needs.

busy working and catching up with friends

I loved holding their darling babies too!

The missionary ladies were finishing up a bible study called “Loving Well” by Beth Moore. I was able to sit in on the last session. Get this, we looked at a passage that has been so instrumental in my decision to come serve in TZ. Perhaps the Lord new that I needed a reminder as to why I came and what I have been called to do… If you received my sponsor letter, part of it is printed in the margin:
 
“and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday.
The LORD will guide you always;
he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
like a spring whose waters never fail.”
Isaiah 58:10-11

I have come across so many women on the mission field  who are spending themselves by serving the Lord, ministering in their communities, and caring for their families. I can only hope to someday, in whatever I’m doing and wherever I end up, to be that kind of woman. The kind of woman who looks only to the Lord for her source of strength and refreshes those around her through the outpouring of His love.

 "What a privilege we have been given by God to be able to spend our lives giving His love away."
 -Don Lessin 

Well, darling reader, Thanks for listening.
Until next time,
em.

Rukwa Valley: classical music in unexpected places

Latest update: I took a little trip! I went to stay with the Benton family in the Rukwa Valley for about 2 weeks. It’s  a 4-6 hour drive from Mumba (my home) depending on the roads and weather. It’s a really drastic difference in climate (it gets really hot!) as it is at least a 5,000 ft. difference in elevation. I’ve had SO much fun spending time with the families down here and sharing in their ministries. I do have to admit, it was nice to have a bit of a break from language school and just experience life in the valley.

Because the ministries are SO diverse and there is SO much to share, I thought I would do several different posts on my time spent there. I hope you don’t mind, darling reader.

One of the big areas that I was able to help with was in music lessons for the missionary kids. They are so blessed to already have a classical music training in the bush wilderness being so far removed from everything. Jodi Guilzon has done a great job teaching them!

Voice lessons!

We put together a recital for them and featured Leah Benton, who is a Senior this year. It was a really special evening for everyone! 

putting my conducting classes to good use...

The Lord’s timing is so perfect in enabling me to come and share and work with them. They are such a talented bunch of kids and I was so grateful to be a part of the recital. I’m so proud of them!

the whole bunch! We had piano, flute, violin, guitar, ukelele, and vocals

“I will sing and make music to the Lord.”

Well, I joined a choir. When Brook first suggested it to me, I was totally on board.

and then it all started to actually happen.
and I was terrified. 

Waiting for practice to start

Joining this choir meant doing this alone. It meant not having Brook or the other missionaries there to be my safety net. It’s all me. I walk to the church with the a few of the choir members. It’s a long walk. Especially when I can barely talk to them. It’s easy for me to talk to my teachers or the workers at Brook’s. I can ask silly questions like “What did you eat for breakfast?” Because I know how to say that. But talking to a teen here? scary. What would I say? The most I choked out tonight was “Do you like to sing?” Duh. They’re in a choir for heaven’s sake. 

missing some of our members, but here we are!

Anyways, when everyone arrives, practice begins and I fumble along on the dance moves and mumble a few words I catch here and there. I’m sure I look ridiculous, and the village kids like to come watch us, which I have the feeling is more about the fact that a crazy white girl is trying to be in a choir than a love of music. One of the youth agreed to translate, which is helpful. But like I said before, it’s still scary. The girls especially are really shy, which is more of a cultural thing than anything else. 

Benito, my translator, and I

The reason why I’m scared is because I so badly want to get to know them. I’m scared because I’m forced to be vulnerable. I’m scared because I really care about them and I don’t want to mess up this one shot I have to reach them. But as scared as I am, I look forward to it everyday. I have fun there. I feel like I am a part of their lives there. Tonight, both Teno I messed up a dance step and shared a smile. Darling reader, that’s huge. She actually looked at me and smiled. I pray that in time I will be able to touch them as they have already touched me.  

practicing some dance steps :)

We practice Monday, Wednesday, Friday at around 5pm. On these days, at around 9am (remember the 8 hour time difference) if you are ever thinking of this ministry, say a little prayer for me, for the members of the choir, and for a breakthrough. I’m resting in the Lord’s strength and wisdom, for Christ’s love is far greater than any cultural or language barrier. May I reflect His love. Thanks darling reader,
-Em

Technorati Tags: Psalm 27:6,Tanzania,Choir

Recharge, Refocus, Rejuvenate.

I had a blast at the field meeting. What a great group of missionaries. It was important for everyone to spend time together, reflecting on their ministries and recharge to continue on... For many of them, it was also a time to prepare to embark on some big changes in the coming year. It was a while back (sorry for the silence, darling reader, time got away from me), but I thought I would still share a few pictures: Enjoy!

the whole group!

a time of worship in song

all the crazy girls! they are too cute.

Until next time,
Em

growing up.

a mother and sleeping child in the market.

This past Sunday, Brook and I were settling down for a relaxing afternoon. I was just getting ready to lose myself in my latest read, Jane Eyre. However, the stillness was interrupted with a call for us to drive a woman who was in labor to the Hospital. After locking up everything in the house and packing a few travel necessities, we set off for the medical center in the village. When we got there, the head nurse filled us in on the situation. The woman was only 7 months along and the baby was breech. She told us that the legs were already visible and to possibly come back in a few hours, for they first wanted to try to deliver it there.

Sure enough, two hours later after another phone call, we repeated the same process and arrived at the medical center. As we pulled in, family and friends were sitting out in the front lawn. Some of their faces betrayed worry, and others hope (as if our arrival would miraculously save the day), but for most of them they showed the usual curiosity whenever a white person is present. The situation was much the same, the baby’s legs were still visible, however, contractions had completely stopped and they had already lost hope for the baby’s survival. Now they were worried that if the mother didn’t deliver soon, they would lose her too.

After about 30 minutes of waiting, 8 people carried the woman out on a mattress. They placed her in the bed of our truck where 2 women joined her for the arduous journey ahead to the hospital. It usually takes about 45 minutes to get there, but because of the giant potholes and bumps in the crude dirt roads, we knew that this would be a much longer trip. Brook was plagued with the responsibility of trying to get to our destination as quickly as possible, and yet make it as smooth of a ride as she could.

I recall sitting in the front seat, the realization finally hitting me with the fact that we had already lost a precious half born baby and that we could lose this mother, who was laying right behind me. With every bump and pothole we hit, I found myself desperately praying for this woman’s life. 

After what seemed like hours down the road (but was probably only 20 minutes) they called for us to stop. With the language barrier, it took me a while to figure out what was going on, until brook turned to me and said, “She had the baby”.
eesh.

She jumped out of the truck and I sat there a moment in shock. I steeled myself for the scene ahead of me and made my way toward the back. It was a little boy. The nurse had already wrapped the stillborn baby in a katenga (a cloth) and it was just sitting there. so still. so small. The blood and afterbirth were all over. Some had even spilled out onto the rust colored dirt road, staining it a brilliant red. Thankfully, the mother was ok. They cleaned her up, and we turned around to head back to the medical clinic. They would keep her for only a few hours until releasing her to go back home…

I learned that at some point in the night, a grandfather would have to take the baby and bury it in the woods, hiding it from witch doctors who would otherwise steal the body parts.

As we arrived back to the clinic, the family and friends were still waiting out in the lawn. This time, fear and worry were the only expressions evident on their faces. The atmosphere of silent anticipation was oppressive as we pulled in. I’m sure they wondered what had happened to cause us to return so quickly. The nurse jumped out and explained the situation. It seemed like there was a collective sigh of relief with the news that the mother had survived. We dropped her off, and said our goodbyes.
Brook and I returned home and finished washing the blood out of the bed of her truck…
Darling reader, I think I grew up that day.

the little things.

A lot of huge events have happened this week. Some I’ve shared with you, darling reader, and others I’m still trying to process. You will hear about those in due time, but I’ve notice that it’s been the little things that have most helped me adjust to life in TZ. Here are a few of them: 

• early morning devotions and coffee while being surrounded by the overwhelming beauty of God’s creation right in my backyard.

oh, you know. Just enjoying some of the 5 kilos of coffee i bought in Mbeya... no big deal.

• ‘Waffle Wednesday’ at the Caraways. Lot’s of waffles, more coffee, and fellowship with the other missionaries.
• Playing “rock, paper, scissors” (jiwe, karatasi, mkasi) with little Luka Caraway.
• Leading worship at Thursday night Bible study.
• Morning prayer time with Brook.
• Volleyball in the Sherman’s backyard.
• Hiking down the huge hill to the river/waterfall (and huffing and puffing to climb back up)
• visits to the village

on our way to the village

Every day my heart grows even more attached to this place. It’s true that in many ways life is difficult here, but I am learning and growing.  It seems like I have just arrived, (which, in the right  perspective, I basically have) but yet it feels like I have been here forever…