Wrecked.

Living abroad changes your life
 
I read a blog the other day written by a World Race friend of mine, who recently returned from India on a short term mission trip.  She has a heart of gold for missions and for giving a voice to the voiceless.  She entitled her blog “Just Go” and I love how she starts it.

“We need to leave.  Yup, that’s it.  We need to leave. Adios, sayonara, bon voyage, just get out of here. Leave. Go away.  Sorry to be so blunt but it’s really a blunt truth”.  

One of the things that I love about it; is that she says she is not going to “over-spiritualize” going simply because she ‘has no verses to give you’.  Rather, she is sharing from her heart.  You should pause this moment and go give her blog a read.  Seriously.  Go do it

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Living in Zambia over the past three months has rocked my world in a way I was not expecting and the hardest part of the journey is yet to come…returning home… 

Now you may be thinking, “How can returning home be the hardest part?  Friends, youth and family are there.  Its ‘safe’ and familiar.  Foods are ‘normal’ and you have a comfy bed to sleep on.  You have all of the North American necessities.  I don’t understand you.  What is your problem?”  Truth is; there is no problem.  Outside of my friends, youth and family, I really couldn’t care less about the above things.  After all, they are simply things.

Allow me to explain

Upon returning home, the top three questions people ask are, “How was your trip?” (Indescribable) “What was your favourite part?” (my kids) And finally, “What’s next?” (I just got home.  I am an emotional wreck so how the flip am I supposed to know?)  My answer to those questions, are in brackets to save you time from asking them and me time from having to answer.  That being said, I thought it was only fair that I give you a ‘heads up’ into where my own head space maybe in a few short weeks.  Bear with me as this is simply me speaking from the heart. 

When I see TV commercials filled with faces of children living in extreme poverty, simply hug me.  In my mind, I will be taken back to the moment of attending the funeral of a month old baby boy who was ‘dumped’ by his own mother because of that poverty.  If I hear you say you’re hungry because you haven’t eaten in an hour?  I may say to you, “Suck it up.  We do not know what ‘hunger’ truly means”.  Oh, and that waitress who made a mistake on your order?  Please do me a favour and simply smile and say thanks; instead of being an idiot and complaining for the 10^th time.  Be thankful you have the money to go out for a meal.  

If I hear you complaining about ‘having to go to school’ and ‘how much you hate it’, honestly my response to you maybe, ‘You spoiled brat, suck it up.’  What you should know is that the faces of my grade 10 English students will be in my mind.  These are the students whose parents, if they have parents, had to choose between providing money for their education or a meal to fill their stomachs that evening.  Pray that that is a choice you will never have to make for your own family.  Oh; and that teacher who is driving you bonkers? Next time instead of disrespecting them by lipping off, tell them how thankful you are that they are there to educate you.  You may be surprised at their response to you.  When I read reports of corruptions within governments (locally and abroad); don’t condemned me for being pissed off.  When I say I don’t want to vote in the upcoming election in Canada, please force me out of the house and remind me of the voice that I AM privileged to have within our country of Canada. 

If you forget all of the above, that’s fine.  I will deal with it.  However, the next few paragraphs are the ones in which I want you to understand the most.  It is the thing that has rocked my world the most while in Zambia and because of it, it has become a very personal ‘fight’ to me.  I am talking about HIV/AIDS, specifically in regards to those ‘orphaned’ because of it. 

When I hear statistics given out about the number of kids who die from HIV/AIDS each day; allow me time to weep as I do not hear a statistic.  I hear a child’s voice.  I see the face of a youth whom I have grown to know, care for and love.  I will be remembering their joyous personality and unique character that brought many special moments of innocence to my soul.  When I see an advertisement about the latest drug used in the fight against HIV/AIDS; rejoice with me as I shout out, in joy, at the top of my lungs.  A glimpse of hope, in the battle against a raging disease, as the faces of over 150+ kids will be on my heart.  You should know that, to me, HIV/AIDS is no longer a disease that is ‘out there’.  Instead, it has become a very personal battle to me and the 150+ kids who have stolen my heart in a way words cannot describe.  All it takes, is a young girl here, to develop full blown AIDS, a ticking ‘time bomb’, to truly realize how fragile life is.  I cannot wrap my head around the fact that the same could happen, at any given moment, to the rest of my kids here.  It could happen to the students in my class or to that precious 8 year old who comes running into my arms each and every day.  It could happen to the girls that my church sponsors, the team of kids coming to Canada on tour later this summer, or to the youth who has had the single most, greatest impact upon my own life.  

We, in Canada, have developed a very wrong stigma/fear about HIV/AIDS, isolating those who battle it every day from us.  Enough is enough.  It is time to ‘wake up’ and truly become educated on it and to realize that people ARE still people. 

  

So, I warn you.
My kids are NOT some statistics.
Don’t you dare ever call them that or refer to them as that. 

MY kids are people with names, faces and personalities.  Youth who have bright futures ahead of them and who are more active (and healthier) than North American kids ever will be.  They are the students who I have adored teaching.  Teenagers whose hands I have held as we have spent time praying together.  They are the faces of young boys and girls whom I have seen the tears come, as they share their stories of abandonment, neglect and abuse. However, these are also the same faces in which the love of Jesus shines brighter than the sun.  

Also, when you talk about my kids, please don’t refer to them as “orphans”.  True, they maybe ‘fatherless’ on our human standards, but they know who their true Father is in a way you and I never will.  Their Father is more powerful and just, than any earthly father ever will be.  My kids also understand love in a way you and I simply cannot.  They know what it is like to go through ‘hell and back’ but they also know what it means to rise above their circumstance even when all odds are against them.  They are not victims.  They survivors.  They are warriors. 

"Subbing" in the Grade 5 class

Please know that my heart is broken in a million little pieces and it is going to take time heal.

 

In time, it will heal but it will never be fully complete again simply because of who my Grace kids have become, to me.  Though we do not share the same skin colour or blood; that is completely irrelevant.  Truly they have become my family.  A family that I did not know I was looking for.

Simply put, until you experience this place for yourself, you won’t ‘get’ who these kids have become to me.  My prayer for you is; through my stories, photos, and videos, God will give you an understanding and a passion for those abroad. One moment; one life at a time.

Some of the smiles of the girls who have stolen my heart

See you soon Canada!