This past Saturday was my favorite day by far since we’ve
gotten to Africa. I know I’ve had a lot of wonderful days, and I’m sure I will
have quite a few more, but this day was special. The twelve oldest girls (ages
11-22) at the orphanage and I had a girls day at my house at ABC! Finally, a
break from the boys!
When I arrived at the orphanage Saturday morning, almost all
the girls were dressed up in their finest clothes. Some in dresses (both
African and “American”), some in skirts and blouses. Some were wearing their
finest slippers (what we would call flip-flops) while a few were wearing pink
water moccasins. Two of the girls were even wearing pink winter gloves (in the
90 degree heat I might add). All had newly “platted” (braided) hair.
So we set off to walk from the orphanage back to ABC. This
was promised to take us about an hour, but after a quick stop in the P market
to get cooking supplies, we arrived at ABC… 2 hours later… So we got right to
cooking our lunch. The girls asked for “American food,” so naturally, I fixed
spaghetti haha. It was either that or PB&J – the only two foods I’ve seen
in the area I’m familiar with. But needless to say the girls LOVED it. I’m not
sure I’ve ever seen girls eat as much spaghetti as they did. I was stuffed
after shoveling in about 1/3 of the servings they had… and they all went back
for seconds. It really makes me wonder when was the last time they ate outside
of the orphanage.
After lunch I popped Tangled
into my laptop, which completely captivated them as they all huddled around it.
I wish everyone could have seen the smiles when I brought out fresh funfetti
cake too! Of course, there was no frosting, but when I apologized for having
none they all looked at me strangely. I guess they don’t really have frosting
for their cakes here. Cake is a big enough treat! The little things we take for
granted... I probably wouldn’t even touch cake unless it had frosting on it in
the States.
The last thing we did before heading back to the orphanage
was nail painting. Many of them did their own, but I had the chance to paint a
few of their toes and fingers – and I loved every dirty, uncut nail I painted.
I don’t think any of these girls get loved on nearly enough. I wonder if anyone
even tells them how truly beautiful they really are.
It was a fantastic day with the girls. And as we rode back
to the orphanage (praise the Lord someone at ABC gave us a ride in the bus!)
and the girls sang songs about our God at the top of their lungs (I’m still
surprised the windows didn’t shatter), I reflected a little bit on the day.
From my perspective, the day was pretty normal. Some girls came over, we had
some food, a little dessert, watched a movie I’ve seen a thousand times, and
painted nails – all things I do almost on a daily basis back home. But today, I
taught girls not much younger than I am how to flush a toilet, adjust the heat on
a stove, use a hand-held can opener, and turn a sink on and off, and I’m
reminded of all the things I have that I consider “needs” that most around the
world hardly know exist… I consider myself as having done pretty well “adapting
to my situations” since I’ve been here – no phones, cold showers, limited
power, strange food, etc. But why is it that I’m still living like a queen when
just a few miles down the road my sisters are sleeping with thin sheets (if
any), no pillows, hardly what you can call blankets, and worn-down mattresses.
Some don’t even have a bed to themselves. There is no toilet paper, no sinks,
and nothing but a bucket for a shower. They have no electricity, no paint on
their bedroom walls, and not even shutters to keep the rain out. They eat one
meal a day, share their clothes, and go without even the simplest things like
pens and paper. And I keep thinking of the verse that talks about seeing your
brother, or sister, in need and if you do nothing you have done it to Jesus
Himself. Would I let Jesus live like this and return to my comfortable home
each day without a second thought? Would I continue to justify it as being
“just the way things are?” Or would I fight a little harder to try and change
things? I think I know the answer to my questions, but I’m ashamed to say that
I still sit here in my massive, comfortable bed, crippled by both the fear of
not knowing what to do and losing just a little too much comfort…
I’m troubled because I have no solutions and barely any
words except the ones my spirit keeps begging the Lord - please, show us the way.
For those of you who have been keeping up with the roof
situation, I have two very cool stories to share.
The first is that we found out on Saturday morning at 5 am,
Mama Betty and the other women in their church danced throughout the streets of
town in Camp 4 – literally. They
danced and sang to God for hours, thanking Him for what He has done and is
doing with their church and the roof. And as they went throughout the town,
they witnessed to others, proclaiming God’s goodness, faithfulness, and
provision. How amazing that something as simple as a roof provided them the
opportunity to serve the Lord with such fervor and joy!
The second has to do with something I have held back writing
about. Much of it revolves around the roof and money. I haven’t really wanted
to share about this particular situation because I wanted to keep everything
positive and also because it’s still a touchy subject for me, Tim, and Shane.
But it plays a pretty cool part in the story and just goes to show how what
Satan tries to use to destroy and discourage, God can still use as a part of
His plan.
The boys had 4 Liberian men helping them put on the roof – a
man named Paye, two of his friends, and a man from the local community who
sometimes attends Redeemer Baptist Church. Now we were warned when we came to
Liberia than people here think white men have money growing on trees, almost
literally. But when it came time to talk money the men who were helping the
boys put on the roof, there was a lot of shady business going on and some of
the men tried to take advantage of Tim and Shane. I know almost everyone here
is desperate, but it was hard to see money we brought to bless the orphanage
with being taken from them. Long story short, things got heated, but despite
knowing we were being taken advantage of, the boys way overpaid the men. For
us, it was very discouraging and frustrating seeing money that supporters
donated for us to use on projects for the kids go to men who were greedy and
played the system to their advantage. But when we paid them, Shane made it very
clear that they all must come to church on Sunday to make up for what they did
to not only us and the orphans, but ultimately the Lord.
None of us expected them to come.
But Sunday morning rolled around and we see Pay,
“Sasquatch”, and “Little-Man” (as we call them), lurking in the shadows of one
of the school buildings. Tim and Shane excitedly greeted them and a few minutes
later, we all filed into church. All three of us were shocked, yet very
excited, to see them there.
But here’s the super cool part of the story: Okay so in the
African churches, they make a big deal about giving money – but not to glorify
one’s self, rather to praise God for Him giving you the ability to give and to
thank Him for what He is speaking to you at that moment. So throughout praise
and worship, members frequently dance their way up to the front of the church
and drop money in the offering box. On Sunday, all three of the men came up at
least once during the service to put money in the offering – and two of them
came up twice! So not only did they get to hear the Gospel (literally, since
that was what the message was on that morning), but they gave part of the money
they earned straight back to the church/orphans! Obviously we don’t know how
much they gave, but we don’t have to. It was just amazing to see the way the
Lord can work on people’s hearts to change and soften them enough to give back
to Him what was always His in the first place!
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| Victor, or "Lefty" as they call him, "Little Man", Paye, and "Sasquatch" after church! |
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| We were presented African suits to wear for church. Tim and mine match because we are siblings. |
In the late afternoon, Shane and I took a walk to the border
of Liberia and Guinea where there used to be a really nice resort before the
war. After the two mile walk, we discovered some overgrown, but completely
awesome tennis courts nestled right up on the top of a hill overlooking some of
Yekepa. A little ways away sits an old, drained Olympic size swimming pool –
definitely the biggest I’ve ever seen! It’s amazing to me that somewhere that
used to be so ritzy (apparently it was one of the nicest places in all of
Liberia before the war), is now so run-down and destroyed. Proof that nothing
lasts forever and not even richest or status can keep someone, or in this case
somewhere, safe.
But anyway, right next to the pool stands a
one-hundred-and-four-foot water tower. We were told we could “take the stairs
up to the top” and there would be a beautiful view! So we planned to climb it
and see for ourselves! However, someone failed to mention that “stairs”
actually meant old, rusted ladder… Now, besides bugs and creepy, crawly
creatures, not a lot scares me. But this scared
me. 104 feet is a long way up, but an even longer way down should that old
ladder decide it doesn’t want to hold up weight any longer! I highly considered
backing out, but I knew Shane was really looking forward to this, we walked all
this way, and after all, this IS
Africa. So I took a minute to have my freak out while still on the ground,
inhaled a deep breath, and started climbing one rung at a time. Now, this was
definitely, without exaggeration, the scariest thing I have ever done. I fought
panic the whole way up, but the view from the top was breathtaking. Here’s a
few pictures because words just don’t do it justice! Oh and I think I climbed
down 3 times a fast as we climbed up… the top was great, but I was definitely
grateful to be back on the ground again. :)
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| Yep, we climbed that! |
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| First time in an Olympic size swimming pool. |
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| The view from the top of the tower |
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| Also from the top of the tower. That's Guinea |
