A few quick words

Just a few quick words...
Out Internet has been a saga ever since we got back, and right now... Well, we don't have any. Emily and I have been at the mercy of Stacy, or going into Accra (a 2 hour trip by public transport) to buy a voucher. We are at the mall now with Autumn and Stacy right now enjoying a little afternoon with no children!!

Please pray for my health... My body has been holding on we'll, but recently I have had a bunch of stomach issues (on both sides of the spectrum) as well as headaches, some body aches, some days of feeling weak, and yesterday/today have brought a sore throat. It's like my body wants to get malaria but it's not... And it's pretty annoying. So prayers for continued health would be appreciated!

I am also starting my process of deciding what jobs to look for next ear, where to look, and trying to figure out where I feel I am being called... Job postings won't really be up until March or April but that is coming SOON!! Crazy!

36 days until Caty gets into country.... Ohhhh I cannot contain my excitement! Even thoug her trip will be short (6 days), I can't wait to share this with someone...

In about a week I am starting the process of training one of our teachers to take over my job... AH! That is crazy! That means that I will start handing over some of the responsibility and spending more time with some of our kids who need more individualized attention... I can't believe it's happening so soon!!

Missing and loving and trying not to want anything other than the riches that have been placed in front of me!

Desperation in Chorkor

Apparently I have come up with a new definition for blogging.

Blogging (blah-ging), v.: The act of word vomiting one’s emotions through a keyboard and posting them for the world to see. Emphasis is put on lonely and difficult feelings.

Now, since my goal is to be as honest and raw as I can be, I’ll use those as an “excuse.” But in this post, I want my definition to look a little more like this…

Blogging (blah-ging), v.: The act of creating visualizations through the use of words and pictures that aim to share what the writer is seeing, hearing, feeling, or experience. Emphasis is put on experiences that have a chance to affect or change the reader.

Let’s try this new definition…

On Wednesday, I was talking to Robin in the morning about, well, pretty much everything… Where our hearts are, what we’re struggling with, what we’re excited about, and somehow their trips to Chorkor and the fact that I had never gotten to go came up and Robin, kind of jokingly, said “You can come with us tomorrow if you want!” Sold.

At the beginning of every month, the Beebe family delivers food to five families with children sponsored through the organization Feeding the Orphans. This is one of two organizations that this family has dedicated their life for the next year and a half to serving… Delivering food, organizing education sponsorships, loving on children all over the country, and providing a sense of hope to the people here in Ghana. Trips to Chorkor involve visiting three single (grand)mothers and delivering food for their family for the month. We’ll name these three special women Laura, Anne, and Mya, for the sake of confidentiality.

Now, going into this day, I know my eyes are going to open big. I know a little bit of the scenery and desperation I am going to face through pictures I have seen of previous trips. None of this prepares you for what you really see. For imagination’s sake, pretend you’re sitting in the back seat with Godwin and I as we embark on this journey through the village…

Chorkor is a community located on a salt-water reservoir used for salt mining. Other than salt mining, it’s only purpose seems to be a place for people to deposit their trash. This community, though technically part of the capital city of Ghana, has no trash service and no place to dispose of their waste besides the banks of the reservoir. Driving along the water, filth seems to be all you can see… This place is messy, in every sense of the word. But there is no option for these people… This isn’t something where you could go in and say “Ok, here’s a big garbage dump for you to use, all your problems are fixed!” This is a place where throwing away garbage is their last worry… Finding food for the next meal and finding clean water for your family to drink is constantly being pushed into the forefront of their minds.

As you and I drive along this road, take note of the kids you see on the side of the road. There aren’t many, but the ones you do see mean a child who’s not in school, meaning a child whose parents likely can’t afford to pay the $30-50 per trimester for school fees associated with attending a private school. Now while private school may sound like a first-class establishment, you might rethink you perceptions when you learn that the child will likely be beaten with a cane if they step out of line and might have to sit on their knees with their hands above their head if they “disturb” their class by talking too much. When you realize that the children don’t learn anything about the solar system, and likely can’t reason with you as to why the sky is blue, but can rattle off Bible verses like no one’s business, you might start getting skeptical… But I digress.

Remember hearing about Laura? Well, she’s our first stop today. After parking on the side of a “main” road, we walk between two shops and approach a small house (if “house” is what we are calling a one-room mud hut). Here, we are greeted by a smiling, cheerful woman whose eyes beam when she sees the food we are carrying towards her. She is eager to talk about the small expansion she is putting on her house and assures us that the children are doing well. After praying with her, we leave the food and head back to the car. It is then that Robin tells Emily and I that Laurie is actually taking care of her sister and her sister’s two children, rather than her own. Her sister has an intellectual disability and is not able to care for her children, who were likely conceived through rape. Thankfully, Laura has a heart for these kids and has given her life to making sure they are provided for. I am thankful that FTO can help make this possible for them, and I pray that Jesus will bless this woman and her heart for her family.

Our first delivery of the day at Laura's house!

Outside of Anne's house.

This is how we found Anne... The pain in her eyes is clear.

Mya and the food that will help to feed her family this month!! 

After hopping back in the car and snacking on some fresh pineapple bought off the street, we twist and turn our way through the roads and over very sketchy bridges in order to arrive at Anne’s house. We have been told in advance that Anne is taking care of her three grown daughters and their nine children, and is now doing this alone after her husband passed away within days of Christmas this year. We carry twice (or maybe three times) as much food to this house, so we start to realize how desperate this family must feel. Watch your feet when you’re walking, the bridge we’re about to cross on foot is wobbly and you certainly don’t want to fall into the water that’s below you!

Here, you will see sweet Anne and her three daughters. Again, we are thankful that no children are in sight because it means that they are in school. However, Anne’ door is open and we are able to see partially inside where her three daughters are working (or cooking, I couldn’t really tell). My heart sinks a little when I realize that this is all there is to their house… And soon, nine children will be coming home to share this room… Tonight, thirteen of them will sleep in this small space, smaller than the kitchen that doesn’t even get used in my house. As we begin to chat with Anne, it is clear that her grief for her husband’s death still feels unbearable… For just the second time in four months, I witness a Ghanaian showing signs of sadness… Soon, this grows into tears, and I want to weep myself. With Etronam (a single mother who is currently living with the Beebe’s) translating, we learn that the grandfather’s funeral will be next week, and that there will be a great deal of family coming to this area to be present for the day. In asking if they had any specific needs, they simply said “everything.” Oh Lord, “everything” lies only in your hands… As Robin prays for their family, the appreciation seeps from Anne’s pores… As she cries into Robin’s shoulder and tries to convey feelings to us as best she can, it is clear how much she appreciates the consistency and blessing of the Beebe’s presence in her life. When we go to walk away, none of us wants to go… How do you walk away from someone with so much need? Though discussing if there is more to do for Anne today or more specific ways we can help, we decide that after the funeral is over will be a better time to do an analysis of the financial and emotional needs of this family.

How are you feeling about this car ride now? Does your heart hurt a little? Keep your chin up, there’s still more to see…

Soon we reach Mya’s house, tucked away behind a small shop and what appeared to be a large building of some kind. Out front, people are gathered under canopies for a church service. Why people are at church on a Thursday afternoon, I have no idea… But sometimes, I’ve learned it’s best to not ask questions.

Mya greets me as I am walking towards her house and takes the gari out of my hands to carry it for me. She is a small and sweet looking girl, probably not any older than 25 years old and probably over a foot shorter than I am (which I suppose isn’t saying that much). We approach her house, and it seems to be the same old story… A small mud hut that we know sleeps 3-4 people on a given night. As Robin and Reid begin talking to Mya, she tells them that she has gotten a job working for a hotel in another part of the city. While this seems to be good news, we then realize this means she is gone for 3-4 days a week, as she stays the night when she is there… What about her two kids? “Oh, my older brother comes to take care of them…” However, she also begins talking of her eldest son and the difficulties they have been having. “He’s just stubborn… I’m thinking I should send him away to live with Evan” (a man who runs a children’s home in Accra). No, no, no, scream Robin’s eyes… Please. That’s not the answer. I see Etronam wander 20 feet down the plot of land and stand with her toes almost in the water… The water that is grey, murky, and polluted. When she learns that Mya is paying 35 cedis (or about $18) per month for rent, her eyes get big and she scoffs… “In my village, no one would even pay 15 cedis for this place! Probably no one would want to live there, no matter if it was free!” It’s hard to hear that now, aside from paying rent that is probably too high (yet determined by corrupt landlords), this woman is living in a place that people from her own country would deem unlivable…

After Robin and Lola console Mya about her son and work to convince her that sending her son with Evan is not the best option for their family, we pray and head back to the car. Even though I was never even introduced, Mya hugs me tight as I leave… I pray that even if she doesn’t know my name, she knows that I have come today to share Jesus with her. You did too, and you might not have even realized it.

As we piled back into the car to head back into the main part of Accra, little Godwin crawled on my lap and it was all I could do to not squish his guts out… I sat in the back of the car silent, holding this little boy and thankful for him and his adopted family. Thankful for the people who are taking care of the children who have been left alone on this planet... the children whose lives have been given a price tag as they are sold to slave masters… the children who just want to be loved. Since you’re sitting next to me, you might see the tears begin to trickle down my face. Don’t ask me any questions… I’m not ready to talk yet. Give me some time to write a blog post and then maybe I’ll have my emotions figured out.

As Chorkor started to drift into our rearview mirrors, I worked to gain my composure. I don’t know what I am supposed to take away from today… A small picture of the extreme grief and desperation that so many people in our world are in? Images of Anne crying that break my heart a thousand times over? Knowledge of this polluted water and subpar living conditions? I don’t know what to do with any of this yet…

What I do know is that when Robin asks us to describe our day in one word, my word is “Jesus.” Seeing His face on the bags and boxes of food that were delivered… Feeling His presence as Anne was both stirred up and comforted buy our presence… Humbled by the opportunity to work in His ministry for another day… I can’t explain this as well as I want to in the car, as I can hear my voice begin to quaver and the tears threaten to flow again. Instead I will hug little G and flash these images through my mind over and over…

These pictures are real. This pain is real. These people are real. And this Jesus is real. What to do with all of this, I’m still not so sure…

Firsts & Freak Outs

Even after being in this country for four months, I am continuing to experience a number of “firsts,” which has led to a funny week.

For example, yesterday was my first time driving in Ghana! I was on a mission with Auntie Lucy and Auntie Lydia to go get measured for a dress, and as we approach the car, Lydia is like “Oh Kathy, you drive!” Ok… Doesn’t sound like a big deal. But to get from our house to the main road, you have to navigate a ridiculous road that is covered in big holes and rocks. Then, once you reach the main road, people drive FAST! This was another first… Almost getting killed. Haha I pulled out much too close to the cars that were coming behind us, forgetting how fast they were driving… Although I got laughed at a lot by the girls, we all lived to tell the tale, so that was a blessing! I only drove on that road for maybe three minutes before we took the turn to head back into the bush in search of the woman who was taking our measurements.

Leading to another first… Visiting the home of someone who really does live in a mud hut. We pulled up to this sweet woman’s house and were greeted by the woman, a man who looked like her brother rather than her husband, and two young children (maybe ages 5 and 7). The children immediately hopped out of their chairs and presented them to Lucy and I. Everyone was speaking in Twi so I didn’t catch much of the conversation, only “short sleeve or long sleeve,” “straight dress,” and the body parts they were measuring… Plus a few “obruni” and “daabi’s” (“white person” and “no”) thrown in. Again, I got laughed at a couple of times simply because I didn’t know what was going on… As frustrating as it is to be made fun of simply because I don’t know the language, it happens often at school as well so eventually you just have to get over it (or get really angry every time it happens, which does no good).

But during this time of observing, I simply spent time looking around me… Looking at the pieces of scrap metal somehow held together to create a bathing area in the corner, as well as a cooking area right in front of me… We sat outside as the sun slowly sunk over the hills, listening to the scratchy radio that served as the entertainment as the sun set on us… Understanding that the light they brought out to do our measurements is probably rarely used by this family… Watching the kids run and chase each other around the plot of land, because there isn’t much else to do… Making eye contact with the young girl, only to have her quickly shift her eyes to the ground while smiling… Wondering what happened to this family during the huge rain storm we had last Saturday… These people live maybe a 15 minute drive from my front door, but they live a completely different life from me. And that makes my heart hurt a little.

Yesterday morning, I found myself angry at my job at school… Frustrated by kids who I wanted to know more than they do, and confused about why it had to be MY job to teach all these kids to read. Yes, I want them to be able to read… I just didn’t want to be the one to do it. “God, I don’t like this calling. I know I don’t really get to say that. But it’s how I feel! I don’t want to be the one that you asked to do this job.”

But then I venture across the road… Where plenty of our children live… and see two kids who I would gladly sit with in the dirt and try to sound out words. We could use a few books to read over and over, getting them excited about reading, and write new words in the dirt when these books got old.

It shouldn’t be any different in my classroom. When I stop for a minute and think about where Sandra goes home to every night or what Belinda already accomplished in the morning before she made it to school, it makes me feel a little better about sitting next to them and trying to get them to read to me, because these words might be the key to their futures. When I remember that Evelyn, John, Dora, and Abigail were rescued by City of Refuge because they were in living situations where their basic needs weren’t being met, I realize that it’s not a hindrance to be leading their reading groups, but a blessing. It’s still not where I would necessarily choose for myself in this world, but that doesn’t make it bad. It does make it hard… But hard doesn’t equal bad.

Then I remember that my job virtually ends on March 29^th… After that point, Caty will be here for a week (during which I will only be in school 2 or 3 days), then the students have a week of studying for final exams, during which I don’t hold classes, and then there is a week of final exams before Term 2 ends. After a three-week break ending in the middle of May (at which point there are 4 weeks until I leave), I will be training the teacher (sweet Nina, whom we all adore!) who will take my job once I leave. Eventually, I will be handing things over to her as I begin to disengage and create a little bit of a distance between myself and the school so that I can emotionally deal with leaving. On June 8^th, I board a plane to Spokane. Wait… What?! How does that all come so fast?! That leaves me with no much time to establish a routine and program that can continue to bring success for these kids… They are the ones who will be here even after I leave, and it’s my job to set them up for success with that!

I can’t think too much about that or I freak out… Always feeling like I should be doing more, always feel like it’s my job to fix everything, always feeling like the weight lies on my shoulders. But, thank God, it doesn’t… None of it does… I am simply a tool that is being used to do God’s work in this classroom, not the one doing it myself… Not the one in charge… Not the one who knows the futures of all these students and not the one giving them strength to make it through every day. That doesn’t mean I’m totally off the hook, but it does help bring down my heart rate a little.

“It’s good, everything will turn out like it should… I know that I’m gonna get it a little bit right, a little bit wrong, still I’m gonna sing my song it’s good, so good, like it should be…”-Katelyn Tarver, “It’s Good”

Thankful that I have the grace to sing this song… The ability to know that no matter what, He makes all things work together for His good…