When God says "Stay"

I’ve been missing Africa.  I’ve been missing it a LOT lately.

I miss ‘my Africa’ nestled in the south central part of the continent.  I miss the ‘care free’ life. The slow and steady pace of a culture that taught me what it truly means to invest into the lives of those around you.  To be still and to be present where you are.  I miss not always having to ‘go’ somewhere all the time and to simply sit for the sake of sitting.  I miss my frappe like drinks and freshly prepared sandwiches from The Mint every Saturday.  Gelato, I cannot forget the African Gelato place.  Nothing compares to fresh gelato on a hot African day. I even miss rides into town; rides that should take only 10 minutes but take upwards 45 due to potholes, traffic jams or simply another accident.  I miss goofing off with local taxi drivers, bartering for the best price to get us home, as locals chuckle as they pass by. 

More importantly;

I miss the feet of those who walk on a small acreage of land, tucked just outside the busy, growing city of Ndola.  I miss the arms wrapped around my neck in the biggest, bestest hugs that there are.  There isn’t a price I wouldn’t pay to simply get just ONE of those hugs. I miss their beautiful, bright smiles up against their gorgeous dark skin tones.  I miss the laughter that reaches to the Heavens; from the songs of praise on a Sunday morning, to the school hallways Monday-Friday and everything in between.  I miss waking up each morning and hearing their voices right outside my door.  Sunday photo-shoots followed by evening movies and board games.  I miss sitting in the Insaka’s; getting my hair braided by 10 little hands, or listening to another gut-wrenching story of hopelessness, abuse, abandonment, neglect, pain and betrayal, turn into a miracle story of hope, healing, rescue, redemption, friendship and love.  I miss learning about scripture through the eyes of a child/teen each and every Sunday morning in a child led church service. I miss the countless hours of Frisbee throwing and giggles that accompanied it.

I miss spending time with my 3 sponsor children.  One a toddler that I just happened to be in the van, the day his teen brother brought him to us through social welfare.  Crying, scrawny and incredibly thirsty he was.  A year later, he’s healthy, eats more than I ever could, and is developing a personality uniquely his own. My first child I ‘took’ as a sponsor, an elementary aged girl who came broken, burned and lost, to Grace Academy a month before my first trip in 2011.  I saw God truly working in her life during my time with her in 2012 and 2015.  What an honour that God chose me to be a part of her story in a very practical way of child sponsorship!  Finally my newest sponsor ‘child’, no longer a child but a beautiful young lady and a former grade 10 English student of mine.  Quiet and shy at first, I found her one of the hardest to leave last year as she slowly began to open up her life to me.  Together, under the Africa sun, she shared with me about where she came from, the hardships she had endured and who she trying to be.  Ironically enough, she reminded me of a few of my girls here at home and, unknowingly, taught me a lot about life and gave me a new perspective into the lives of my teens. 

Yesterday, my church hosted a dessert fundraiser for Seeds of Hope, for the kids who call it home. 

I debated going.  Not because I’ve heard what was going to be shared time and time again, but because I was scared of how my heart would respond to it.  I was scared of the feelings and emotions tied to what would be shared, of ‘losing my control’ and of the personal embarrassment of the tears, I feared, that would show themselves among friends and peers.  Ultimately, I was scared of that one specific question/statement that I knew would be geared towards me by those around me.

“So Nikki, when are you hoping on a plane and heading back? Where is your next stop?”

What I did NOT expect, was the incredible peace that filled my heart and the strength within my voice as I responded back, “Not for another 2.5 years at least”.  The shock look on their faces was evident as I continued with saying, “God has given me an incredible ministry right here at home that I am honoured to be a part of each and every day.  He continues to allow me to be a part of miracle stories happening right here, right now.  I know without a doubt, that this is where He is calling me to be and I cannot express the amount of joy that it brings to my heart”.

Furthermore, what I did NOT expect where the tears that didn’t appear in my eyes.  Rather, they became tears that flowed out of a, now alumni, youth girl who I’ve grown to know, cherish and love throughout her 4 years in high school.  I could feel the praise in my heart go up towards God, as I simply wrapped her in a huge hug, as her tears flowed. Each tear a symbol of a beautiful, compassionate heart that God has given her, a heart that I KNOW He will continue to work miracles in, and through.  The simple words "Thank you" that she whispered into my ear, provided further confirmation of God being alive and moving here in a small Mennonite town.  I knew that, she knew I knew full well what her tears were for.  She knew that I understood 110% in a way that very few locally do. What a blessing, what an honour to continue to walk alongside her (and many others) as they continue their walks with Jesus. 

I’ve heard the saying once, “Save the world one life at a time”.

I have yet to fully understand it, but day by day I am finding myself gaining an even greater understanding behind that simple statement. 

Truth is.  I miss Africa and I always will.  I miss my kids in Zambia something fierce, with every breath that I take.  That will never leave the core of who I am...

Yet my heart remains at peace knowing that perhaps one day God will lead me back there again, maybe even for my toddler's graduation!?!?! (How cool would that be!!?!). However for now, with a trusting head and a knowing heart, I know God is taking care of my 'kids' in Zambia, the way He took care of my youth girls while I was at Grace Academy.  I've learned time and time again, that no matter where I am, whether in Africa or Altona, my 'kids' are ultimately in God’s hands whether I am there with them or not.  Thank the LORD for that!!  I know the best thing I can do for them, is pray and guess what…physical location doesn’t matter when it comes to prayer!!

God is beyond borders and customs, oceans and skies, politics and personal hardships and everything in between.  

Our God is a God who knows no bounds.  Who has required 3 things of us and whose love is never ending, whose faithfulness reaches to the skies. 

"Your steadfast love, O Lord, extends to the heavens, your faithfulness to the clouds". Psalm 36:5

 

“He has shown you, O mortal, what is GOOD.  And what does the LORD require of you? To ACT justly.  To LOVE Mercy. To WALK humbly with the LORD your God” (Micah 6:8)

Hands (Finding JOY in death)

On April 23, 1992, I had just turned 4 thirty five days earlier.  From what I remember, life was good.  I mean, I was only 4 years old so how ‘bad’ could it be right? When I woke up that morning, little did I (or anyone in my family) knew of the somber day that laid before my entire family. April 23, 1992 is the day that my grandma went to be with Jesus.  It has been 24 years since that day and the pain of the loss, is still there.  As a 4-year old, I didn’t understand what had happened and I especially didn’t understand words such as ‘Chemo’, ‘cancer’, ‘death’, ‘heaven’, ‘God’.  I didn’t know what a funeral consisted of or why people wore black and gave things called eulogies at them.  Cemeteries and caskets were something that my eyes hadn’t seen prior.  I lost a bit of innocence that day, as the reality of the world I was/am growing up in, became a bit more ‘real’. 

As a 28 year old, I now understand what ‘chemo’ and ‘cancer’ are and, although I don’t think I will ever fully understand the words; ‘death’, ‘heaven’ or ‘God’, I do have a greater understanding of them and most importantly, of WHO God is.  I have been to more funerals than I can count, both here at home and while overseas.  Funerals of people I’ve known my entire life, and funerals of people whom I literally just met.  Through these various funerals; the reality of just how fragile life truly is, has been a stark reminder.  From witnessing my own grandma’s funeral when I was 4, to seeing row upon row of small grave sites as I listened to the wails of African women at the funeral of a month old ‘dump’ baby last spring, in Zambia.  Having been asked, and then giving the eulogy at my uncle’s funeral this past fall became a stark reminder that when death comes, death comes.  This past week, we lost a precious individual at work to death.  A young man of 35 years of age, whose smile lit up those around him.  Although I didn’t know him long, I am going to miss seeing his smile each and every day and the joy that came with it. 

I have walked on many cemetery sites locally and aboard, and I have seen many different sized caskets since my grandma’s 24 years ago. Truth is, it still isn’t easy.  Death isn’t easy.  Don’t give me the line, “at least they are no longer suffering” or “I am sorry for your loss”.  I have long since lost all innocence that my once 4 year old self had.  I understand pain and I understand loss.  Reality is; Death sucks no matter the age.  Period. End of story.

However, today I choose to have a different perspective on death.  Today I chose to be thankful for life, for my own mom and the gift she has been/is in my own life.  Although we don’t always get along (what mother/daughter relationship does?!?) I am thankful that, at the end of the day, I know she is here and I know I can hug her one more time.  Those hugs, any time spent with her, will forever be cherished.  Mom, I love you so much!Today I am thankful she is two provinces away spending time with her grandson, laughing and making priceless memories.  I am thankful Peregrine HAS the chance to spend time with his grandma.  He truly had no idea how blessed he is to have her as his grandma.  I am thankful for the love that my mom already has for Peregrine’s younger brother or sister, set to grace us with their presence in July.  

Today I am thankful for the gift of ‘hands’ my own grandma instilled in each of her daughters (my aunts) and son (my uncle).  Yes, they are a ‘crazy bunch of Brauns’ but their hands of ‘touched’ more lives than you or I will ever know.  I am thankful for their teachings and influence upon my life, encouraging me to use my ‘hands’ no matter where in the world I am.  As I take a moment and look upon my own hands, I marvel at the stories they could tell.  In 28 years, my hands have been on some incredible adventures all around the world.  They have held countless of kids, in all walks of life.  They’ve been that support, whether physically helping a young lady girl off a pole in Thailand’s Red Light District, or lifting my local youth girls up in prayer as I looked down upon the beautiful smile of an 8 year old African child who has forever changed my life. Thank you Jesus, for the gift of hands that you have blessed my family with.

Thank you Jesus; for dying the ultimate death so that in YOU, we may have life eternal.

Holy Spirit convictions

Today is Ash Wednesday which also means that today is the start of the Lent season; the 40 days leading up to Christ’s Crucifixion and Resurrection (Easter).  It is during this 40 day period that (some) Believers (Christians) ‘give up’ something in their lives.  It doesn’t have to be something bad that they give up; in fact, it is often something that is good.  The point is to use that time to reflect on just how much we need Jesus in our lives each and every moment of each and every day.  Other Believers may choose to ‘add’ something to their daily schedules that will also help pull them closer to Jesus.  Waking up earlier to read the Bible, fasting, spending more time in conscious prayer are a few things that I have heard of people purposely ‘adding’ to their days during Lent season.  In the past, I have done both of these.  I have both ‘given up’ things and have ‘added’ things as well (separate years of course).  Like most things, I am really good at it for a while but keeping up that stamina is hard.

 

This year, I knew from the start that I would not be doing either one of them.  When I made that choice, I felt at peace about it.  After all, Jesus is supposed to be a part of our every waking moment of our lives 365 days a year…not just the 40 days before lent right? 

Enter Holy Spirit.

I’ve come to know myself (who I am) pretty well; especially over the last few years.  I have come to know how God speaks to me and I have come to trust those ‘feelings’ within me.  Learning to trusting those feelings has NOT come ‘overnight’ as it has been a long, hard, frustrating, rewarding, easy, and an incredible journey along the way with plenty ups and downs.  

Lately I have been having ‘one of those feelings’ and because I know the situation attached to it; the word ‘conviction’ is better suited in this case.  When God is trying to speak to me, His voice is constantly in the back of my head and I cannot ‘let it go’ no matter how hard I try.  NO matter how hard I attempt to distract myself or to ‘run’ from it (Jonah and the Big Fish anyone?!?!)  I had a very honest conversation with a friend/mentor of mine the other day in which I flat out said, “I know what the Holy Spirit is calling me to do, but I so don’t want to do it.  Jesus can make an exception to this situation right?  And He will allow me to act the way I (my flesh) wants to respond too right?  I mean, I have been so ‘good’ and have withheld for quite some time…Jesus can just close His eyes on this one right? I think I’ve earned it”.  My friend simply responded with a chuckle as they could totally relate to what I was/am wrestling with.  They also knew that I KNOW what to do because of how the Holy Spirit is convicting me.  Basically, they were just an ear to vent too.  The Spirit is willing but the flesh is weak!

So what does any of this have to do with Ash Wednesday and Lent season?  God calls us to be imitators of Him.  To see, feel and act against things in this world that bring Him pain.  To care for those who are marginalized and to help bring justice in places of injustice.  I don’t know how exactly it will look and I know it will carry on way past Easter (and probably for the rest of my life) but this Lent season I know God is going to work on me, and my heart, when it comes to truly learning about justice according to how Christ sees it as.  For me, it will have a focus on learning how to forgive those who I (my flesh) feels as though have no right to be forgiven, let alone be LOVED by God, when they are the root cause of so much deep pain in so many people’s lives. Surely God will be 'okay' with it, if I don't forgive them right? (*insert typical sunday school answer here*)

Even though I know it will not be easy; I am especially excited for the next 40 days to see how God continues to speak to me and convict me.  He may lead me to have some very difficult conversations with certain individuals that I will especially need your prayers for.  He may ask me to simply be silent, something that is even harder for me, and to trust Him through the process.

In closing I ask that, if my name crosses your mind, you pray for me and this journey ahead.

Thank you

This song has been on my repeat for many weeks now and every time I hear it; God uses it to speak to my soul.  I pray it does the same to you.