Yesterday we were finally able to get back to Refilwe to meet with Yonela and some of her friends about doing some beading for jewelry for the gift shop. Sadly, she was too busy to hang out with us—homework, chores, and various other duties in the community—but we were able to grab a few minutes with her and also arrange to go back Friday.
Yonela is almost 16, and one of the funniest girls I have ever met. She shrieked when she saw us and came running. She does nothing quietly or without flare. Yesterday at school she won the singing contest and serenaded us with her award-winning voice. She requested that when we return we teach them a spiritual lesson—so I guess Dawn and I are leading a small youth group on Friday :)
On our way out we went to say goodbye to Spongelay, one of Yonela’s friends, who really seemed to like Anne. She and Anne were so funny with each other. When we got back in the car, Anne was ecstatic. She has been at Alabanza for some time and hasn’t felt like she’s been effective as a minister in a long time. In the car on the way home, the girl couldn’t not stop talking about how amazing our few minutes at Refilwe were and how she can’t wait to go back. She wanted to go back every day! She goes back to the States mid-October, so I’m sure we will squeeze in several trips to Refilwe before then.
Last night Jackie returned to Alabanza after six months in the States. I had been hearing about Jackie not only from the people at Alabanza, but also from the people who work at the petrol station. They ask about Jackie all the time! Petrol stations in South Africa are still full service, so there are a ton of workers outside. They fill your tank, get your receipt, check your water, oil, tires, and clean your windshield. They are usually very friendly and they joke around with each other a lot. At the petrol station closest to Alabanza, Jackie made quite the impression. She is one of those people who lives and breathes ministry. She began to get to know everyone who worked there, and when they expressed their fears after the store was robbed, she began to pray with them.
Today Dawn, Anne, Jackie and I went to the petrol station. Jackie had cookies for everyone. Their faces just light up when they see her and even after six months of being gone, Jackie remembered personal details about everyone there. We prayed several times—as the workers switched off on taking care of customer and other came on and off break. We had a great time talking to the woman about their children. One of them will have her five-year-old with her next week (because there is no school) and we promised to come play with her.
I stood there staring for a while trying to process what was going on around me. Jackie could have done what most people do—drive up and hang cash out the window. But she didn’t. She began to make personal relationships and care about people that most others just walk past and don’t even acknowledge. Standing there I wondered if I could ever walk past another petrol attendant again and not say something. They were very sad when Jackie told them she is leaving in a few days for Swaziland. But Dawn, Anne, and I told them that we would come and we would pray with them. The women smiled—a good sign, I think.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
afrikaans lessons
On my first night at Alabanza, I remember being very confused. It seemed to me that everyone was speaking in a different language and my head began to hurt as I feared I would never be able to communicate with any of these people. In the few days that followed, I learned that there was only one other language being spoken that night (beside English and the sign language for Mary), and that it is called Afrikaans (“Ah-fri-kahns”). It is a mixture of several languages, and is the youngest language in the world. I think some of the components are German, Dutch, French, and some indigenous African languages. It sounds like German a lot of the time, and they make all kinds of funny noises that my mouth cannot quite figure out, but I’m trying. Several of the South Africans teach me phrases, and I love learning them! It’s been a blast, and they are excited that an American is taking interest in it.
But last Tuesday night while several of us were hanging out at Claude and Mary’s house (Mary received Betty Crocker mix in the mail from the States and made us all cookies!), Mariet taught me a few lines in Afrikaans I will never forget. I told her that Dawie (“Dah-vee”) asked me to say something nicer to him since he didn’t like my new phrase: Are you insane?! So she told me one phrase and I turned to him and recited it. Dawie raised his eyebrows and then smiled. He seemed pleased. Mariet promised to tell me what I had said later, and then gave me another phrase. I turned and sputtered through another phrase, but this reaction was a little different. Several heads turned our way, and Dawie seemed speechless (quite a feat if you know Dawie). He threw up his hands and replied “Yes!” And thus, I was engaged to a South African. That’s right—my new “friend” Mariet had me tell Dawie that he was very cute, and then I asked him to marry me. Of course, in a small community like this one, the joke could not end there, so now there is at least one comment every day about me and my fiancé. That’s what I get for trying to assimilate.
But last Tuesday night while several of us were hanging out at Claude and Mary’s house (Mary received Betty Crocker mix in the mail from the States and made us all cookies!), Mariet taught me a few lines in Afrikaans I will never forget. I told her that Dawie (“Dah-vee”) asked me to say something nicer to him since he didn’t like my new phrase: Are you insane?! So she told me one phrase and I turned to him and recited it. Dawie raised his eyebrows and then smiled. He seemed pleased. Mariet promised to tell me what I had said later, and then gave me another phrase. I turned and sputtered through another phrase, but this reaction was a little different. Several heads turned our way, and Dawie seemed speechless (quite a feat if you know Dawie). He threw up his hands and replied “Yes!” And thus, I was engaged to a South African. That’s right—my new “friend” Mariet had me tell Dawie that he was very cute, and then I asked him to marry me. Of course, in a small community like this one, the joke could not end there, so now there is at least one comment every day about me and my fiancé. That’s what I get for trying to assimilate.
Me and my "fiance," Dawie, at our Alabanza Roman Dinner Night
the opening
Me and Dawn with our table of African craftsI’ve received many inquiries via email as to the preparation, execution, and result of the opening last Saturday. I’m so sorry I left you guys in the dark for so long. The end of last week was insane with preparations. Dawn and I were rocking the manual labor, and unable to get to the internet café as often. The other result of the manual labor was that we were unable to complete many of our own gift shop errands and tasks.
We worked on the building late into the night Friday night. I learned to install window South Africa style—which is placing individual pieces of glass into wooden frames with brown putty, then hammering wood in to frame the pane. When we ran out of putty and moved on to silicon, the guys were impressed with the fact that the silicon gun (or caulk gun, at my house) was not new to me (thanks, Dad!). I also did a lot of tea and coffee making to keep the guys awake and their spirits up. I delivered a bit of encouragement or sass (on a case by case basis) with each cup.
The next day I got up ready to conquer the building and get our tables and products out, but my body didn’t get the memo that this was an important day. No. Instead, it decided that I was going to be nauseous to the point of either passing out or throwing up, and my head apparently hated me as well, and was pounding. I made an effort with the upstairs windows, but it was in vain. I ended up in bed for 4 hours while the rest of the Alabanza staff finished the building projects and got things set up.
Guests were to begin arriving at 3pm, but the coffee shop wasn’t really set up or making any drinks until around 6pm. Our meager table was set up outside and ready to go around 5pm. I guess that’s another story…
So Dawn and I had big plans for this shop of ours. We were told it would be upstairs above the coffee shop, but last week found out that what they meant by that was that there would be some rolling shelving that we could put out on the balcony during the day and then roll indoors in the evening. Not exactly what we had in mind. We also kept running into small roadblocks on errands and supplies, then on meeting with artists. By Saturday I think that Dawn and I were both dealing with a “death of vision,” and almost apathetic about the gift shop. On top of that, I could only stand up for a few minutes at a time, so I wasn’t really helping the situation. All that said, once the table was set up and we began to hang out with our friends and guests, the opening was a great night.
Opera, musicals, and a bit of gospel were performed by a group of three singers and an amazing pianist. They performed on the upstairs balcony, and most of the guests sat out on the deck to watch. The desserts that Anmerie prepared were divine, though the coffee drinks will need some work. (The only machine that they were able to afford isn’t any bigger than the espresso machine that I have at home in the States and could not handle the traffic that was coming through the building.) People stayed well into the evening, and at Dini’s request, the singers continued to perform. Listening to German art songs, latte in hand, star blanketed African sky overhead, I couldn’t help but laugh. Dawn thought I was crazy, but I think she thinks that a lot—so no surprise there.
The other great thing about the opening was that it was a chance for us to relax and hang out with each other—the Alabanza staff. The mood was so joyful and everyone kept laughing and hugging. We needed that. The coffee shop is going to be a great addition to this place and everyone can just feel that it will be an asset to the ministry that takes place here. We also hope to bring in traffic form the town—something I know that I am very excited about—but we will have to wait until the thousands of kinks are worked out and there are regular store hours.
I think the girls running the coffee shop, Anmerie and Mariet (“Mer-eet”), are going to let me run the shop some of the time—which excites the barista in me J We need to meet with them very soon about the details of where we can display what stock we do have, where more will go in the future, what to do about the items that shouldn’t be outside, how to separate and take money for the items, etc. But The Awakening starts tomorrow (the 60 people about to move in here that will be here until we leave) and they have both been incredibly busy, as we all have, with the preparations for that group.
So, honestly, Dawn and I are sad and somewhat stalled on the gift shop. I think we just need someone to care to get excited with us—but it feels like everyone is too busy to care. And we don’t know where we fall priority wise in the whole Alabanza-scheme, so we never know whether we should stay and help knock out projects here, or go out and meet artists. But I feel that this will get better—that as soon as this group is here we can at least begin to focus on the gift shop as our individual ministry. At least, I hope so.
We worked on the building late into the night Friday night. I learned to install window South Africa style—which is placing individual pieces of glass into wooden frames with brown putty, then hammering wood in to frame the pane. When we ran out of putty and moved on to silicon, the guys were impressed with the fact that the silicon gun (or caulk gun, at my house) was not new to me (thanks, Dad!). I also did a lot of tea and coffee making to keep the guys awake and their spirits up. I delivered a bit of encouragement or sass (on a case by case basis) with each cup.
The next day I got up ready to conquer the building and get our tables and products out, but my body didn’t get the memo that this was an important day. No. Instead, it decided that I was going to be nauseous to the point of either passing out or throwing up, and my head apparently hated me as well, and was pounding. I made an effort with the upstairs windows, but it was in vain. I ended up in bed for 4 hours while the rest of the Alabanza staff finished the building projects and got things set up.
Guests were to begin arriving at 3pm, but the coffee shop wasn’t really set up or making any drinks until around 6pm. Our meager table was set up outside and ready to go around 5pm. I guess that’s another story…
So Dawn and I had big plans for this shop of ours. We were told it would be upstairs above the coffee shop, but last week found out that what they meant by that was that there would be some rolling shelving that we could put out on the balcony during the day and then roll indoors in the evening. Not exactly what we had in mind. We also kept running into small roadblocks on errands and supplies, then on meeting with artists. By Saturday I think that Dawn and I were both dealing with a “death of vision,” and almost apathetic about the gift shop. On top of that, I could only stand up for a few minutes at a time, so I wasn’t really helping the situation. All that said, once the table was set up and we began to hang out with our friends and guests, the opening was a great night.
Opera, musicals, and a bit of gospel were performed by a group of three singers and an amazing pianist. They performed on the upstairs balcony, and most of the guests sat out on the deck to watch. The desserts that Anmerie prepared were divine, though the coffee drinks will need some work. (The only machine that they were able to afford isn’t any bigger than the espresso machine that I have at home in the States and could not handle the traffic that was coming through the building.) People stayed well into the evening, and at Dini’s request, the singers continued to perform. Listening to German art songs, latte in hand, star blanketed African sky overhead, I couldn’t help but laugh. Dawn thought I was crazy, but I think she thinks that a lot—so no surprise there.
The other great thing about the opening was that it was a chance for us to relax and hang out with each other—the Alabanza staff. The mood was so joyful and everyone kept laughing and hugging. We needed that. The coffee shop is going to be a great addition to this place and everyone can just feel that it will be an asset to the ministry that takes place here. We also hope to bring in traffic form the town—something I know that I am very excited about—but we will have to wait until the thousands of kinks are worked out and there are regular store hours.
I think the girls running the coffee shop, Anmerie and Mariet (“Mer-eet”), are going to let me run the shop some of the time—which excites the barista in me J We need to meet with them very soon about the details of where we can display what stock we do have, where more will go in the future, what to do about the items that shouldn’t be outside, how to separate and take money for the items, etc. But The Awakening starts tomorrow (the 60 people about to move in here that will be here until we leave) and they have both been incredibly busy, as we all have, with the preparations for that group.
So, honestly, Dawn and I are sad and somewhat stalled on the gift shop. I think we just need someone to care to get excited with us—but it feels like everyone is too busy to care. And we don’t know where we fall priority wise in the whole Alabanza-scheme, so we never know whether we should stay and help knock out projects here, or go out and meet artists. But I feel that this will get better—that as soon as this group is here we can at least begin to focus on the gift shop as our individual ministry. At least, I hope so.
The opera singer prepare to sing on the balcony, while coffee shop patrons wait anxiously on the outside deck
Jonathan and Anne showcase some of Anmerie's amazing desserts
Anmerie makes a latte
Our first customers!!!
Mama Lizzie got all dressed up for the occasion-- she looked beautiful!
One of the performers explains German Art Songs
Dini (the owner of Alabanza) and Volke with Dawn and me
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
coming true
My dream for some time has been to open my open coffee shop, or boutique of hand-made goods, I hadn’t decided yet. I kept trying to figure out how they could co-exist, as well. The thing that was important about my shop was that it would exist to directly benefit a people group or specific issue (like the poor in Turkey).
I’ve also been fascinated by hand-made goods since some back in high school. Wimberley Market Days is one of my favorite things to do, as is browsing through the Renaissance Market on the Drag in Austin. I kept telling everyone I would open my own booth or table in Wimberley or Austin one day. And when I learned that Portland, OR had a Saturday Market (every week!), I almost packed my bags right then. I’ve learned a number of crafts, though none good enough to make a sellable piece of art. I tend to stop just short of becoming very good or discovering I’m mediocre—a habit I need to break… But I love hand-made goods and I especially love them in other countries—with the influence of new materials and ideas and customs.
I started working at Starbucks because I wanted to learn more about coffee, and to find out how “the man” runs his store so that my little coffee shop can be competitive. And as I learned, I stored everything away for that day far far off in the future when I would have money enough to venture into the world of small business.
When Dawn told me about this opportunity, she told me about the gift shop. I thought to myself that this would be a great opportunity to learn business skills and to get a taste of running my own business. A month before I left for Africa, she mentioned the coffee shop would be going in as well. I took this as a sign that God loved me and was telling me I didn’t have to get over my caffeine addiction before I left.
I know what your mind is doing now. It is computing, in only the amount of time it takes to read this post (20 seconds?) what it took mine an entire summer and about a week here to figure out (yes, yes—I know—I colored over it, but the blonde is still there…). I am living that dream right now. I thought I was living out my dream of coming to Africa, but I never dreamed that Africa had anything to do with my far-off dream of a shop of my own, or that the shop would come so soon! And here I am, living in beautiful South Africa, planning out the opening with Dawn, Mariet, and Ann Marie—the opening of both a coffee shop and hand-made craft store—of which we have been granted ownership and responsibility. IN AFRICA!!! I must be Jesus’s favorite! This isn’t to say He doesn’t love any of you—just that He loves me so much that I have two of my greatest dreams in the here and now. (And I’m just kidding, I sure He loves some of you all too… maybe not Joshua—but the rest of you…) (NOTE: If you don't appreciate or understand sarcasm with a bit of good-natured heresy mixed in, this is probably not the blog for you.)
And I’m already seeing how He is preparing me for the realization of my other dream—to adopt a boy from Africa. I’m watching Luiza love on Veli and the Kinsleys love on Alfie and my heart fills with so much joy knowing that one day I will have a beautiful boy like Veli and Alfie to love. (Don’t worry, Mom. I won’t come home with one this time…)
But in all seriousness now, I just have to say that every day I wake up here to live out the desires of my heart that were heard by Him. I place them all in His hands and pray that He would lead me in every step in Africa and with the shop. I praise Him that we can’t see the future and are so limited in our vision—because I don’t think I could have ever cooked this one up on my own—and why would I want to when His ways are so perfect?
I’ve also been fascinated by hand-made goods since some back in high school. Wimberley Market Days is one of my favorite things to do, as is browsing through the Renaissance Market on the Drag in Austin. I kept telling everyone I would open my own booth or table in Wimberley or Austin one day. And when I learned that Portland, OR had a Saturday Market (every week!), I almost packed my bags right then. I’ve learned a number of crafts, though none good enough to make a sellable piece of art. I tend to stop just short of becoming very good or discovering I’m mediocre—a habit I need to break… But I love hand-made goods and I especially love them in other countries—with the influence of new materials and ideas and customs.
I started working at Starbucks because I wanted to learn more about coffee, and to find out how “the man” runs his store so that my little coffee shop can be competitive. And as I learned, I stored everything away for that day far far off in the future when I would have money enough to venture into the world of small business.
When Dawn told me about this opportunity, she told me about the gift shop. I thought to myself that this would be a great opportunity to learn business skills and to get a taste of running my own business. A month before I left for Africa, she mentioned the coffee shop would be going in as well. I took this as a sign that God loved me and was telling me I didn’t have to get over my caffeine addiction before I left.
I know what your mind is doing now. It is computing, in only the amount of time it takes to read this post (20 seconds?) what it took mine an entire summer and about a week here to figure out (yes, yes—I know—I colored over it, but the blonde is still there…). I am living that dream right now. I thought I was living out my dream of coming to Africa, but I never dreamed that Africa had anything to do with my far-off dream of a shop of my own, or that the shop would come so soon! And here I am, living in beautiful South Africa, planning out the opening with Dawn, Mariet, and Ann Marie—the opening of both a coffee shop and hand-made craft store—of which we have been granted ownership and responsibility. IN AFRICA!!! I must be Jesus’s favorite! This isn’t to say He doesn’t love any of you—just that He loves me so much that I have two of my greatest dreams in the here and now. (And I’m just kidding, I sure He loves some of you all too… maybe not Joshua—but the rest of you…) (NOTE: If you don't appreciate or understand sarcasm with a bit of good-natured heresy mixed in, this is probably not the blog for you.)
And I’m already seeing how He is preparing me for the realization of my other dream—to adopt a boy from Africa. I’m watching Luiza love on Veli and the Kinsleys love on Alfie and my heart fills with so much joy knowing that one day I will have a beautiful boy like Veli and Alfie to love. (Don’t worry, Mom. I won’t come home with one this time…)
But in all seriousness now, I just have to say that every day I wake up here to live out the desires of my heart that were heard by Him. I place them all in His hands and pray that He would lead me in every step in Africa and with the shop. I praise Him that we can’t see the future and are so limited in our vision—because I don’t think I could have ever cooked this one up on my own—and why would I want to when His ways are so perfect?
slowly and most surely
We’ll get there with this store. It just takes time. It takes time to find artists, to build those relationships, and the building itself isn’t even finished—so I don’t know why I’m acting like we’re behind on anything. I think I’m just excited and anxious to see this vision, held by so many, become a reality.
We’ve been here two weeks now, and things seem to be happening for the store, finally. On Saturday, Dawn and I went to Refilwe’s (“Reh-feel-way”) Open House event and made a contact to order local honey and peanut butter. They also had Christmas cards with pictured of the kids there on them (adorable!), and we got on of each of three to see if they will sell. The group coming for The Awakening will leave right before Christmas (just a few days before we do) and the timing works out well for those. Refilwe’s goal is to break the cycle of poverty here, and they do this through several ministries and projects, one of which is taking in some amazing kids. Yonela is one of the funniest girls you will ever meet and she was being discipled by Becky, one of Dawn’s friends who was here earlier this year. She and her friends who live at Refilwe want us to buy them beads so that they can make necklaces for the store.
We’ve got those tablecloths I mentioned before, the purses are set to arrive Friday (the day the building is scheduled to be completed), and Monday we took Dora and Mama Lizzie to the fabric store for supplies for them to get started. We have leads on crafts and artists and I just pray that we follow His lead in this and don’t let Saturday’s opening dictate any decisions this week. This store exists to change lives and does not simply exist to exist.
The money has run out at Alabanza and there is still no espresso machine or solid plan for the coffee shop. We prayed one in yesterday and today received a text that one is being donated. I don’t have specifics yet, but I hope it is just as it said. I was about to have Mom send my meager espresso machine from home—the one that takes 10 to 15 minutes to make one drink! And since I’m a Starbucks barista in my other life, I’m becoming the “go-to” girl for coffee-shop questions. I’m finding that God is redeeming all of those lost hours I spent in coffee shops all over Austin as well, and I’m able to explain several different methods for running a coffee shop. All that sitting and staring and espresso is good for something! Yay!
Dawn and I are also struggling money-wise for the gift shop. We were anticipating a certain sum of money to start the store, but it seems that money was spent in the building of the new structure, and we are using our own limited budgets to get this thing off the ground. We also did not realize how much petrol (gas) we would go through in the driving to artists, research trips, supply trips, etc. We know He will provide and that this store is completely in His hands, and we continue to pray (and ask you to join us) in trusting that He will and is providing.
We have a lead from a guy that works at our gym who says that his brother-in-law does amazing wood work (for Mom—our room and board was 200 Rand cheaper per month than anticipated, so we joined the gym for that same amount per month because of all those freakish carbs we were being fed—the 6:30am workouts are going well!). His name is Justice, and he said he would bring us pictures tomorrow and show us, then if we’re interested he can take us there this weekend.
That’s pretty much the update on the store. Mom said she wished she could come for the opening—and I wish you all could come, but in your absence, I will take plenty of pictures! But in case you were wondering—there are free beds here in my house and I know the way to the airport, so let me know when your flight gets in ;-)
We’ve been here two weeks now, and things seem to be happening for the store, finally. On Saturday, Dawn and I went to Refilwe’s (“Reh-feel-way”) Open House event and made a contact to order local honey and peanut butter. They also had Christmas cards with pictured of the kids there on them (adorable!), and we got on of each of three to see if they will sell. The group coming for The Awakening will leave right before Christmas (just a few days before we do) and the timing works out well for those. Refilwe’s goal is to break the cycle of poverty here, and they do this through several ministries and projects, one of which is taking in some amazing kids. Yonela is one of the funniest girls you will ever meet and she was being discipled by Becky, one of Dawn’s friends who was here earlier this year. She and her friends who live at Refilwe want us to buy them beads so that they can make necklaces for the store.
We’ve got those tablecloths I mentioned before, the purses are set to arrive Friday (the day the building is scheduled to be completed), and Monday we took Dora and Mama Lizzie to the fabric store for supplies for them to get started. We have leads on crafts and artists and I just pray that we follow His lead in this and don’t let Saturday’s opening dictate any decisions this week. This store exists to change lives and does not simply exist to exist.
The money has run out at Alabanza and there is still no espresso machine or solid plan for the coffee shop. We prayed one in yesterday and today received a text that one is being donated. I don’t have specifics yet, but I hope it is just as it said. I was about to have Mom send my meager espresso machine from home—the one that takes 10 to 15 minutes to make one drink! And since I’m a Starbucks barista in my other life, I’m becoming the “go-to” girl for coffee-shop questions. I’m finding that God is redeeming all of those lost hours I spent in coffee shops all over Austin as well, and I’m able to explain several different methods for running a coffee shop. All that sitting and staring and espresso is good for something! Yay!
Dawn and I are also struggling money-wise for the gift shop. We were anticipating a certain sum of money to start the store, but it seems that money was spent in the building of the new structure, and we are using our own limited budgets to get this thing off the ground. We also did not realize how much petrol (gas) we would go through in the driving to artists, research trips, supply trips, etc. We know He will provide and that this store is completely in His hands, and we continue to pray (and ask you to join us) in trusting that He will and is providing.
We have a lead from a guy that works at our gym who says that his brother-in-law does amazing wood work (for Mom—our room and board was 200 Rand cheaper per month than anticipated, so we joined the gym for that same amount per month because of all those freakish carbs we were being fed—the 6:30am workouts are going well!). His name is Justice, and he said he would bring us pictures tomorrow and show us, then if we’re interested he can take us there this weekend.
That’s pretty much the update on the store. Mom said she wished she could come for the opening—and I wish you all could come, but in your absence, I will take plenty of pictures! But in case you were wondering—there are free beds here in my house and I know the way to the airport, so let me know when your flight gets in ;-)
the way we mend
“It’s just that some voices remind me I’m not strong enough,
To put all my demons behind me and carry this love.
But just like an angel of mercy
You take me by my hand and say,
‘It’s the way we mend,
We tear it all down and we’ll start it again,
And I don’t know how but you find me where we begin,
And that’s just the way we mend.’”
from The Way We Mend by Bebo Norman
To put all my demons behind me and carry this love.
But just like an angel of mercy
You take me by my hand and say,
‘It’s the way we mend,
We tear it all down and we’ll start it again,
And I don’t know how but you find me where we begin,
And that’s just the way we mend.’”
from The Way We Mend by Bebo Norman
leaving
This is in an audio file on my iPod from the time he came to speak at UT my junior year. I have listened to it over and over since I got here. His words always resonate with me... but this one seems to do so in a whole new way. (And for those of you who don't know-- this is one of my favorite authors and I literally stalked him when he was in Austin-- turning up at every speaking engagement I could get into, and leaving a lasting impression by (jokingly...sorta) asking him to sign my bra in a line of Baptist preachers holding books to be signed!)
Author's Note to Through Painted Deserts by Donald Miller:
IT IS FALL HERE NOW, MY FAVORITE OF THE FOUR seasons. We get all four here, and they come at us under the doors, in through the windows. One morning you wake and need blankets; you take the fan out of the window to see clouds that mist out by midmorning, only to reveal a naked blue coolness like God yawning.
September is perfect Oregon. The blocks line up like postcards and the rosebuds bloom into themselves like children at bedtime. And in Portland we are proud of our roses; year after year, we are proud of them. When they are done, we sit in the parks and read stories into the air, whispering the gardens to sleep.
I come here, to Palio Coffee, for the big windows. If I sit outside, the sun gets on my computer screen, so I come inside, to this same table, and sit alongside the giant panes of glass. And it is like a movie out there, like a big screen of green, and today there is a man in shepherd's clothes, a hippie, all dirty, with a downed bike in the circle lawn across the street. He is eating bread from the bakery and drinking from a metal camp cup. He is tapping the cup against his leg, sitting like a monk, all striped in fabric. I wonder if he is happy, his blanket strapped to the rack on his bike, his no home, his no job. I wonder if he has left it all because he hated it or because it hated him. It is true some do not do well with conventional life. They think outside things and can't make sense of following a line. They see no walls, only doors from open space to open space, and from open space, supposedly, to the mind of God, or at least this is what we hope for them, and what they hope for themselves.
I remember the sweet sensation of leaving, years ago, some ten now, leaving Texas for who knows where. I could not have known about this beautiful place, the Oregon I have come to love, this city of great people, this smell of coffee and these evergreens reaching up into a mist of sky, these sunsets spilling over the west hills to slide a red glow down the streets of my town.
And I could not have known then that if I had been born here, I would have left here, gone someplace south to deal with horses, to get on some open land where you can see tomorrow's storm brewing over a high desert. I could not have known then that everybody, every person, has to leave, has to change like seasons; they have to or they die. The seasons remind me that I must keep changing, and I want to change because it is God's way. All my life I have been changing. I changed from a baby to a child, from soft toys to play daggers. I changed into a teenager to drive a car, into a worker to spend some money. I will change into a husband to love a woman, into a father to love a child, change houses so we are near water, and again so we are near mountains, and again so we are near friends, keep changing with my wife, getting our love so it dies and gets born again and again, like a garden, fed by four seasons, a cycle of change. Everybody has to change, or they expire. Everybody has to leave, everybody has to leave their home and come back so they can love it again for all new reasons.
I want to keep my soul fertile for the changes, so things keep getting born in me, so things keep dying when it is time for things to die. I want to keep walking away from the person I was a moment ago, because a mind was made to figure things out, not to read the same page recurrently.
Only the good stories have the characters different at the end than they were at the beginning. And the closest thing I can liken life to is a book, the way it stretches out on paper, page after page, as if to trick the mind into thinking it isn't all happening at once.
Time has pressed you and me into a book, too, this tiny chapter we share together, this vapor of a scene, pulling our seconds into minutes and minutes into hours. Everything we were is no more, and what we will become, will become what was. This is from where story stems, the stuff of its construction lying at our feet like cut strips of philosophy. I sometimes look into the endless heavens, the cosmos of which we can't find the edge, and ask God what it means. Did You really do all of this to dazzle us? Do You really keep it shifting, rolling round the pinions to stave off boredom? God forbid Your glory would be our distraction. And God forbid we would ignore Your glory.
HERE IS SOMETHING I FOUND TO BE TRUE: YOU DON'T start processing death until you turn thirty. I live in visions, for instance, and they are cast out some fifty years, and just now, just last year I realized my visions were cast too far, they were out beyond my life span. It frightened me to think of it, that I passed up an early marriage or children to write these silly books, that I bought the lie that the academic life had to be separate from relational experience, as though God only wanted us to learn cognitive ideas, as if the heart of a man were only created to resonate with movies. No, life cannot be understood flat on a page. It has to be lived; a person has to get out of his head, has to fall in love, has to memorize poems, has to jump off bridges into rivers, has to stand in an empty desert and whisper sonnets under his breath:
I'll tell you how the sun rose A ribbon at a time...
It's a living book, this life; it folds out in a million settings, cast with a billion beautiful characters, and it is almost over for you. It doesn't matter how old you are; it is coming to a close quickly, and soon the credits will roll and all your friends will fold out of your funeral and drive back to their homes in cold and still and silence. And they will make a fire and pour some wine and think about how you once were . . . and feel a kind of sickness at the idea you never again will be.
So soon you will be in that part of the book where you are holding the bulk of the pages in your left hand, and only a thin wisp of the story in your right. You will know by the page count, not by the narrative, that the Author is wrapping things up. You begin to mourn its ending, and want to pace yourself slowly toward its closure, knowing the last lines will speak of something beautiful, of the end of something long and earned, and you hope the thing closes out like last breaths, like whispers about how much and who the characters have come to love, and how authentic the sentiments feel when they have earned a hundred pages of qualification.
And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God. We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn't it?
It might be time for you to go. It might be time to change, to shine out.
I want to repeat one word for you:
Leave.
Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn't it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don't worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed.
Author's Note to Through Painted Deserts by Donald Miller:
IT IS FALL HERE NOW, MY FAVORITE OF THE FOUR seasons. We get all four here, and they come at us under the doors, in through the windows. One morning you wake and need blankets; you take the fan out of the window to see clouds that mist out by midmorning, only to reveal a naked blue coolness like God yawning.
September is perfect Oregon. The blocks line up like postcards and the rosebuds bloom into themselves like children at bedtime. And in Portland we are proud of our roses; year after year, we are proud of them. When they are done, we sit in the parks and read stories into the air, whispering the gardens to sleep.
I come here, to Palio Coffee, for the big windows. If I sit outside, the sun gets on my computer screen, so I come inside, to this same table, and sit alongside the giant panes of glass. And it is like a movie out there, like a big screen of green, and today there is a man in shepherd's clothes, a hippie, all dirty, with a downed bike in the circle lawn across the street. He is eating bread from the bakery and drinking from a metal camp cup. He is tapping the cup against his leg, sitting like a monk, all striped in fabric. I wonder if he is happy, his blanket strapped to the rack on his bike, his no home, his no job. I wonder if he has left it all because he hated it or because it hated him. It is true some do not do well with conventional life. They think outside things and can't make sense of following a line. They see no walls, only doors from open space to open space, and from open space, supposedly, to the mind of God, or at least this is what we hope for them, and what they hope for themselves.
I remember the sweet sensation of leaving, years ago, some ten now, leaving Texas for who knows where. I could not have known about this beautiful place, the Oregon I have come to love, this city of great people, this smell of coffee and these evergreens reaching up into a mist of sky, these sunsets spilling over the west hills to slide a red glow down the streets of my town.
And I could not have known then that if I had been born here, I would have left here, gone someplace south to deal with horses, to get on some open land where you can see tomorrow's storm brewing over a high desert. I could not have known then that everybody, every person, has to leave, has to change like seasons; they have to or they die. The seasons remind me that I must keep changing, and I want to change because it is God's way. All my life I have been changing. I changed from a baby to a child, from soft toys to play daggers. I changed into a teenager to drive a car, into a worker to spend some money. I will change into a husband to love a woman, into a father to love a child, change houses so we are near water, and again so we are near mountains, and again so we are near friends, keep changing with my wife, getting our love so it dies and gets born again and again, like a garden, fed by four seasons, a cycle of change. Everybody has to change, or they expire. Everybody has to leave, everybody has to leave their home and come back so they can love it again for all new reasons.
I want to keep my soul fertile for the changes, so things keep getting born in me, so things keep dying when it is time for things to die. I want to keep walking away from the person I was a moment ago, because a mind was made to figure things out, not to read the same page recurrently.
Only the good stories have the characters different at the end than they were at the beginning. And the closest thing I can liken life to is a book, the way it stretches out on paper, page after page, as if to trick the mind into thinking it isn't all happening at once.
Time has pressed you and me into a book, too, this tiny chapter we share together, this vapor of a scene, pulling our seconds into minutes and minutes into hours. Everything we were is no more, and what we will become, will become what was. This is from where story stems, the stuff of its construction lying at our feet like cut strips of philosophy. I sometimes look into the endless heavens, the cosmos of which we can't find the edge, and ask God what it means. Did You really do all of this to dazzle us? Do You really keep it shifting, rolling round the pinions to stave off boredom? God forbid Your glory would be our distraction. And God forbid we would ignore Your glory.
HERE IS SOMETHING I FOUND TO BE TRUE: YOU DON'T start processing death until you turn thirty. I live in visions, for instance, and they are cast out some fifty years, and just now, just last year I realized my visions were cast too far, they were out beyond my life span. It frightened me to think of it, that I passed up an early marriage or children to write these silly books, that I bought the lie that the academic life had to be separate from relational experience, as though God only wanted us to learn cognitive ideas, as if the heart of a man were only created to resonate with movies. No, life cannot be understood flat on a page. It has to be lived; a person has to get out of his head, has to fall in love, has to memorize poems, has to jump off bridges into rivers, has to stand in an empty desert and whisper sonnets under his breath:
I'll tell you how the sun rose A ribbon at a time...
It's a living book, this life; it folds out in a million settings, cast with a billion beautiful characters, and it is almost over for you. It doesn't matter how old you are; it is coming to a close quickly, and soon the credits will roll and all your friends will fold out of your funeral and drive back to their homes in cold and still and silence. And they will make a fire and pour some wine and think about how you once were . . . and feel a kind of sickness at the idea you never again will be.
So soon you will be in that part of the book where you are holding the bulk of the pages in your left hand, and only a thin wisp of the story in your right. You will know by the page count, not by the narrative, that the Author is wrapping things up. You begin to mourn its ending, and want to pace yourself slowly toward its closure, knowing the last lines will speak of something beautiful, of the end of something long and earned, and you hope the thing closes out like last breaths, like whispers about how much and who the characters have come to love, and how authentic the sentiments feel when they have earned a hundred pages of qualification.
And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God. We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn't it?
It might be time for you to go. It might be time to change, to shine out.
I want to repeat one word for you:
Leave.
Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn't it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don't worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed.
Friday, September 7, 2007
brokenness
Dawn and I met about two and a half years ago as we were going through training to go to South Padre for Beach Reach. After that week together, she and another friend, the wonderful Miss Katie Graves, formed an accountability group for the remainder of my college career. We met weekly and shared our lives with each other. If you have never been in an accountability group, let me explain a bit. The entire point is to be completely transparent. You share inner most thoughts and those things you swore you’d never share with anyone. You must, as the others in the group cannot help to hold you accountable for future endeavors and growth if you don’t know what the person struggles with. You commit to pray for each other and love each other. It’s tough, but so rewarding. Those girls saw me at the highest of highs and lowest of lows, held me when I stumbled, and celebrated victories with me—no matter how small. They know all my ugly places and mistakes and love me unconditionally.
I haven’t had that sort of relationship with anyone since I graduated, and this past year was… well, I don’t quite have words for it yet. Difficult? Bizarre? I don’t even know. What I can say is that I got to a place I wish I’d never gotten to, and when I got here to South Africa, away from everything, the walls came crashing down. I was able to hold it together for a week, and then the brokenness came. I lay in bed one night trying to muffle my sobs, but I couldn’t. I cried until I had nothing left to cry out. The next night, fighting against shame and pride, I came clean to Dawn as I had so many times before. And as she had so many times before, she held me and prayed over me, sharing God’s truth with me, rebuking the lies that plagued me, and loving me just the same.
Dawn was able to see from everything I revealed that there was an obvious and original desire and need, but my efforts to fulfill that went in the wrong direction, and once on that track, I just kept going. It was something I couldn’t see on my own because I was so deep in it. There is something truly powerful about confessing to another believer, and it is an important part of community. I know that in my own life, and he has shown me once again, that He speaks through community as well as through the individual, and I am blessed to be in an authentic and genuine community that earnestly and humbly seeks the heart of God.
It is okay to be broken. In this place I cannot put up a facade or even a false smile. I don’t have the strength. And He holds all my broken pieces in His hands, where I rest. He sorts through and throws out the pieces I don’t need, and we will spend some time here putting me back together in His image-- “we” being Him, the staff here, and my prayers.
I haven’t had that sort of relationship with anyone since I graduated, and this past year was… well, I don’t quite have words for it yet. Difficult? Bizarre? I don’t even know. What I can say is that I got to a place I wish I’d never gotten to, and when I got here to South Africa, away from everything, the walls came crashing down. I was able to hold it together for a week, and then the brokenness came. I lay in bed one night trying to muffle my sobs, but I couldn’t. I cried until I had nothing left to cry out. The next night, fighting against shame and pride, I came clean to Dawn as I had so many times before. And as she had so many times before, she held me and prayed over me, sharing God’s truth with me, rebuking the lies that plagued me, and loving me just the same.
Dawn was able to see from everything I revealed that there was an obvious and original desire and need, but my efforts to fulfill that went in the wrong direction, and once on that track, I just kept going. It was something I couldn’t see on my own because I was so deep in it. There is something truly powerful about confessing to another believer, and it is an important part of community. I know that in my own life, and he has shown me once again, that He speaks through community as well as through the individual, and I am blessed to be in an authentic and genuine community that earnestly and humbly seeks the heart of God.
It is okay to be broken. In this place I cannot put up a facade or even a false smile. I don’t have the strength. And He holds all my broken pieces in His hands, where I rest. He sorts through and throws out the pieces I don’t need, and we will spend some time here putting me back together in His image-- “we” being Him, the staff here, and my prayers.
details
I can now better explain what Dawn and I are doing here, since I am now beginning to understand it myself. The plan was loose to begin with, and looks a bit different than what I was able to explain before I left the States. Here is what this looks like…
Alabanza is a missions base of sorts. It was started by an incredible woman named Dini and exists to equip and prepare people to be sent out to do what God has called them to do in the world. There is a pretty large staff here—some called to come here by God, some ending up here over time, several young people who came short-term and just never left—basically all kinds of people. The thing that they all have in common is an incredible heart for God, for South Africa, for service, and for building up and equipping others.
Dawn and I are considered staff here now. There is a building (pictured in a previous post) going up right now on the property that is to become a coffee shop and craft store. Many different people had a vision from God for such a place, and they obediently built and trusted that it would come to life. While here last spring, dawn was told about the gift shop, and felt called to head up the start of it. She then told me about it in May, and I realized then that I must also come (see: “living a dream” post).
The building costs are footed by Alabanza, but will hopefully be reimbursed by sales in both the coffee shop and gift store. Costs for the gift store start-up look like they will be coming from me and Dawn, and then reimbursed as the store becomes a success. Vision and details for the store are left up to me and Dawn. As of now, we see this as an opportunity for relationship building and discipleship with local women. We don’t want to just sell their goods, but also get to know them and share our lives with them. We’ve also recently developed the idea for including the individual stories of the artists with their creations. Each item bought will then have a story, and my hope is that upon reading them, some of the purchasers will begin to pray for these artists, many of whom struggle greatly financially and even just to survive.
As of now, we have 3 large (and quite beautiful) tablecloths from a couple in Zimbabwe that Dini’s sister acquired for us before our arrival. Zimbabwe is going through a depression right now, and they travel to South Africa once a month to sell their wares and then buy goods here to take back. They have 2 children and 1 on the way (due in a couple of days), and recently took in 3 children from a relative who passed away. This has become their livelihood. Dawn tells me that most of the stories we hear from artists will be very similar to this one, which encourages me that this store will truly be a life-changing place.
The other stock on its way is a load of 50 purses from Swaziland. Dawn met a woman while leading teams there this past year who has a ministry making purses. She employs women, teaches them to makes these beautiful purses, and then disciples them while helping them to make a living. Dora, Miss Lizabeth, Louiza, and Mary who all live here at Alabanza are gifted artists are plan to contribute to the store.
Dawn and I have several leads on places to go to meet artists and build relationships, and since we have a car now (as of today—Praise the Lord!), we will be able to go and check them out. Tomorrow at a local community center for youth, called Refillway, there is an open house. There is a sewing group and bead-working group there, as well as people who make peanut butter and locally grown honey and they will have their wares on sale. I am considering joining the sewing group to have a place to meet local South Africans and build relationships, and hopefully some of them will want to sell in the store, as well as teach me a thing or two about sewing ;-)
One of the women who works at Alabanza, Miss Lizabeth (or “Mama Lizzie”), had a vision in a dream about the store and coffee shop that it would be a place of healing. I pray that it is so. Dawn and I want so much to get to know and love on these artists—healing emotionally and spiritually, and the financial aspect will surely heal entire families.
I see the coffee shop, too, as a place for healing. I’ve always been fascinated that going for coffee with someone is an event, and I know that in my own life, some of the most powerful and influential conversations have been at a coffee shop. We are expecting a group of 50 people here to be a part of an extended training for first-year missionaries (through Adventures in Missions) called The Awakening. I hope they utilize this space as a place to develop friendships, mend hurt places, renew and relax, and allow us to get to know them. (This is also our first customer base—so I will be down there encouraging the come upstairs and buy things to take home!!!)
The store and coffee shop will be open to the public as well. Our opening is next Saturday, the 15th, and we will have live music and festivities. We are inviting anyone and everyone to come, and hopefully those who come will begin to spread the word. My head, even now, is bursting with ideas and vision for both spaces. Everyone here seems to be excited about it as well—feeling already that these new ministries will greatly add to the existing one at Alabanza.
Alabanza is a missions base of sorts. It was started by an incredible woman named Dini and exists to equip and prepare people to be sent out to do what God has called them to do in the world. There is a pretty large staff here—some called to come here by God, some ending up here over time, several young people who came short-term and just never left—basically all kinds of people. The thing that they all have in common is an incredible heart for God, for South Africa, for service, and for building up and equipping others.
Dawn and I are considered staff here now. There is a building (pictured in a previous post) going up right now on the property that is to become a coffee shop and craft store. Many different people had a vision from God for such a place, and they obediently built and trusted that it would come to life. While here last spring, dawn was told about the gift shop, and felt called to head up the start of it. She then told me about it in May, and I realized then that I must also come (see: “living a dream” post).
The building costs are footed by Alabanza, but will hopefully be reimbursed by sales in both the coffee shop and gift store. Costs for the gift store start-up look like they will be coming from me and Dawn, and then reimbursed as the store becomes a success. Vision and details for the store are left up to me and Dawn. As of now, we see this as an opportunity for relationship building and discipleship with local women. We don’t want to just sell their goods, but also get to know them and share our lives with them. We’ve also recently developed the idea for including the individual stories of the artists with their creations. Each item bought will then have a story, and my hope is that upon reading them, some of the purchasers will begin to pray for these artists, many of whom struggle greatly financially and even just to survive.
As of now, we have 3 large (and quite beautiful) tablecloths from a couple in Zimbabwe that Dini’s sister acquired for us before our arrival. Zimbabwe is going through a depression right now, and they travel to South Africa once a month to sell their wares and then buy goods here to take back. They have 2 children and 1 on the way (due in a couple of days), and recently took in 3 children from a relative who passed away. This has become their livelihood. Dawn tells me that most of the stories we hear from artists will be very similar to this one, which encourages me that this store will truly be a life-changing place.
The other stock on its way is a load of 50 purses from Swaziland. Dawn met a woman while leading teams there this past year who has a ministry making purses. She employs women, teaches them to makes these beautiful purses, and then disciples them while helping them to make a living. Dora, Miss Lizabeth, Louiza, and Mary who all live here at Alabanza are gifted artists are plan to contribute to the store.
Dawn and I have several leads on places to go to meet artists and build relationships, and since we have a car now (as of today—Praise the Lord!), we will be able to go and check them out. Tomorrow at a local community center for youth, called Refillway, there is an open house. There is a sewing group and bead-working group there, as well as people who make peanut butter and locally grown honey and they will have their wares on sale. I am considering joining the sewing group to have a place to meet local South Africans and build relationships, and hopefully some of them will want to sell in the store, as well as teach me a thing or two about sewing ;-)
One of the women who works at Alabanza, Miss Lizabeth (or “Mama Lizzie”), had a vision in a dream about the store and coffee shop that it would be a place of healing. I pray that it is so. Dawn and I want so much to get to know and love on these artists—healing emotionally and spiritually, and the financial aspect will surely heal entire families.
I see the coffee shop, too, as a place for healing. I’ve always been fascinated that going for coffee with someone is an event, and I know that in my own life, some of the most powerful and influential conversations have been at a coffee shop. We are expecting a group of 50 people here to be a part of an extended training for first-year missionaries (through Adventures in Missions) called The Awakening. I hope they utilize this space as a place to develop friendships, mend hurt places, renew and relax, and allow us to get to know them. (This is also our first customer base—so I will be down there encouraging the come upstairs and buy things to take home!!!)
The store and coffee shop will be open to the public as well. Our opening is next Saturday, the 15th, and we will have live music and festivities. We are inviting anyone and everyone to come, and hopefully those who come will begin to spread the word. My head, even now, is bursting with ideas and vision for both spaces. Everyone here seems to be excited about it as well—feeling already that these new ministries will greatly add to the existing one at Alabanza.
acceptance
Those of you who followed my old blog while I was in Turkey last summer will recall my (somewhat sarcastic) commentary on how my trip there was actually a less than cleverly disguised fat camp. One of the main components of this fat camp was the power of words on one’s own self image, namely the fact that two different Turkish women came up to me to ask me when my baby was due. To make matters worse, when I explained to them that there was no baby, they became adamant, and kept pointing to my stomach and saying the word for “baby.” I can laugh about it now, but at the time it was no laughing matter.
I can’t believe I did not mention this sooner (because I was actually elated when this occurred), but on my first full day here at Alabanza, one of the girls who works here, Dora, commented on my body. Dora lives here with her mother during the week, and they travel back to Adderageville on the weekends. She is slightly shorter than me, black, with very short hair and a thick build. She is very sweet, hilariously funny, and hopes to be contributing as an artist to our store here soon. On our first meeting, I noticed her staring at me. She looked back over her shoulder at one point while doing dishes, got my attention, and said, “I like your shape.”
I just stood there and stared back, this entire thing not making any sense to me at all. She smiled and struck a pose and repeated herself. I understood. A huge smile spread across my face and I nodded and thanked her. It was at that moment that I knew I loved this place ;-)
Disclaimer to my grandmother: Gran, I am still joining the gym here and will be working out several times a week with the other people my age that live at Alabanza. Don’t worry!
I can’t believe I did not mention this sooner (because I was actually elated when this occurred), but on my first full day here at Alabanza, one of the girls who works here, Dora, commented on my body. Dora lives here with her mother during the week, and they travel back to Adderageville on the weekends. She is slightly shorter than me, black, with very short hair and a thick build. She is very sweet, hilariously funny, and hopes to be contributing as an artist to our store here soon. On our first meeting, I noticed her staring at me. She looked back over her shoulder at one point while doing dishes, got my attention, and said, “I like your shape.”
I just stood there and stared back, this entire thing not making any sense to me at all. She smiled and struck a pose and repeated herself. I understood. A huge smile spread across my face and I nodded and thanked her. It was at that moment that I knew I loved this place ;-)
Disclaimer to my grandmother: Gran, I am still joining the gym here and will be working out several times a week with the other people my age that live at Alabanza. Don’t worry!
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
a few pictures for you...
This is the part that Mom loves-- the pictures :) There are only a few, but now you all can catch a glimpse at my incredible life at Alabanza.
Here are me and Dawn at the airport. I had not slept for 27 hours at this point (which explains the excessive sleeping on the planes...).
This is my house, located on the back of the base. You walk in the door to a large main room which has 3 beds in it currently. There is a room immediately to the left that houses someone's belongings, but she does not currently live with us. Our room is in the back on the left, and I'll post pictures of the room as soon as we make it look a bit more "homey." In the front right is the bathroom and shower, and the back right is open from the main room with a kitchen, which is actually just cabinets and a sink.
It is winter now, which is why everything is brown, but spring began on the first of September, and that means the "rainy season." I'll keep you posted on that ;-)
Here is our store so far. We thought we would be using a part of the barn, so we were quite surprised when we arrived and they were constructing this building. The bottom floor will be the coffee shop and the upstairs is the gift shop. There are two girls already in charge of the coffee shop, but they are excited I work at Starbucks ;-)
There will be an upstairs deck, and eventually (long-term) a deck around the pool for seating. Dawn and I get to help build the deck-- yay! The opening celebration is planned for the 15th, and is supposed to be quite an event.
There are several adopted children here at Alabanza-- the cutest kids you've ever seen! Louiza, who is a single South African only slightly older than me, recently became a mother to Vely after hearing from God. The story is really incredible, as are all of the stories of how the children came to live here. Vely comes from a home where there are 35 children. Here is Louiza with Vely, and Alfie, Namdamiso, and Vely.
The sunsets here are breathtaking. I have seen every sunset since arriving here. The pictures don't do them justice, and I'm sure they will get even more incredible when the clouds come in for the rainy season. Here are a few of them...
Yesterday morning before our 8am prayer time, Dawn and I went to ask Albert if he would help us navigate the Auto Trader magizine to find a car. He laughed and replied, "Your car is right there!" He was selling his car, it was in our price range, very reliable, and thoroughly tacky-- I'm elated! Community is a funny thing... but more on that later. Here are Albert and Dawn giving the car a thumbs up :)
Since Dawn and I are staff at Alabanza, we take on all kinds of tasks for which we are ill-trained. We've deemed ourselved "professional amatuers." Today's task: grout work. I think it went well...?
Smile! We LOVE Africa!!!
the first email
(Since I didn't have a blog yet, I was mass emailing. This email went out August 30th. If you would like to receive email updates when a new post is published or when there is something I don't want to post on the website, please let me know!)
Hey, everybody!
I'm here in South Africa safe and sound. I slept through my entire flight to Atlanta, and then through the entire flight here-- all 18 hours of it!!! Well, I managed to wake up for most meal services, but other than that-- I was dead to the world. Then we got here, got to the missions base, had dinner, met a ton of people, and were off to bed, where Dawn and I both slept for another 12 hours!
Dawn and I share a small house on the back of the property. It has a main room with three beds in it, a bathroom with shower, and a kitchen area that consists of basically cabinets and a sink. We share the onebedroom with two beds and a closet. It's cute and cozy :) I'm starting to understand a bit better what our life will look like here. We met with Dini (pronounced "Deenie"), who owns the base, and Steve and Theresa, Americans who live and work here. They made it clear that they feel God has called us to be here at this specific time. They were also very clear with us that this project will be full of great frustration. The mindset here is very different than our Western mindset, which I knew would be true-- I just didn't know in what way. I'll have to give you more details on that when I understand it myslef a bit better, but suffice it to say that the running of a business works differently here and if we approach it as we would at home-- we'd be in a bit of trouble. Actually, all the work that Josh did this summer on trying to get me to loosen up and not plan every little detail prepared me quite well. (Thanks, Josh!) I can't plan here, and I can't be detail oriented. I mean, I could, but my plans would never work and my life would be full of frustration.
Dini said this morning, "Coming to Africa, you must be insane or youheard from God." Steve chimed in with, "Or a bit of both!" I think it's a bit of both, and I'm incredibly excited :)
Dawn and I should acquire a car on Saturday, and prayers are in order as she and I must both learn how to drive a stick AND how to drive on the other side of the car and road-- yikes!!! Our first task is to acquire stock for the store, and everything is up in the air on that and truly needs God's leading. We have dedicated the rest of today for prayer and reading and hope to have more of a vision for what will come next.
I think that's it for now, and I'll be sure to keep you all updated. Love you, all!!!
lindsey
Hey, everybody!
I'm here in South Africa safe and sound. I slept through my entire flight to Atlanta, and then through the entire flight here-- all 18 hours of it!!! Well, I managed to wake up for most meal services, but other than that-- I was dead to the world. Then we got here, got to the missions base, had dinner, met a ton of people, and were off to bed, where Dawn and I both slept for another 12 hours!
Dawn and I share a small house on the back of the property. It has a main room with three beds in it, a bathroom with shower, and a kitchen area that consists of basically cabinets and a sink. We share the onebedroom with two beds and a closet. It's cute and cozy :) I'm starting to understand a bit better what our life will look like here. We met with Dini (pronounced "Deenie"), who owns the base, and Steve and Theresa, Americans who live and work here. They made it clear that they feel God has called us to be here at this specific time. They were also very clear with us that this project will be full of great frustration. The mindset here is very different than our Western mindset, which I knew would be true-- I just didn't know in what way. I'll have to give you more details on that when I understand it myslef a bit better, but suffice it to say that the running of a business works differently here and if we approach it as we would at home-- we'd be in a bit of trouble. Actually, all the work that Josh did this summer on trying to get me to loosen up and not plan every little detail prepared me quite well. (Thanks, Josh!) I can't plan here, and I can't be detail oriented. I mean, I could, but my plans would never work and my life would be full of frustration.
Dini said this morning, "Coming to Africa, you must be insane or youheard from God." Steve chimed in with, "Or a bit of both!" I think it's a bit of both, and I'm incredibly excited :)
Dawn and I should acquire a car on Saturday, and prayers are in order as she and I must both learn how to drive a stick AND how to drive on the other side of the car and road-- yikes!!! Our first task is to acquire stock for the store, and everything is up in the air on that and truly needs God's leading. We have dedicated the rest of today for prayer and reading and hope to have more of a vision for what will come next.
I think that's it for now, and I'll be sure to keep you all updated. Love you, all!!!
lindsey
the send-off
Here are a few of the faces who showed up to send me off. To all those who showed up at Trudy's and Spiderhouse to say goodbye (Joshua, Moo, Smash, Lisa, Bart, Erika, Hans, Katie G, Martin, Colby, Patrick, Daniel, Katie N, James, and Brockett), you have no idea how much it meant to me. I know I was a bit anxious (you should've seen my to-do list!) but the hugs and goodbyes and love were much needed and much appreciated. And to Todd who saw me later, thanks for adding a soundtrack to my African adventure-- you truly ARE my Rock Star!
me and Joshua 
Erika-- who is now in California on her OWN adventure :)
me, Josh, and SmAshley
wanna-piece-a-LISA
... and my boys, Rock Star and Joshua
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