Moments like These (Learning to say 'Good-bye')

A few days prior to coming to Zambia, I was asked, “Nikki how can you make leaving home look so easy?”  Truth is, leaving to come to here for 3 months was harder for me than it was leaving for 11 months to go on the World Race.  

On July 1, I found myself at the Zambian Immigration office once again.  Another month has passed and it was time to get our passports renewed.  Another month.  Month two is officially done.  My time here, is becoming less and less.  It is dwindling very quickly.  A lot quicker than I would like it too. 

Not only did July 1 mark Canada Day, but I can now official say, “see you next month” to those at home.  A statement like that, brings many many mixed emotions to my heart and soul.  On one hand, the thought of seeing friends, family and youth brings an excitement into my entire being that I cannot explain.  I am excited to reconnect over a walk in the park.  To share stories and hear how God has been working, over a cup of hot coffee.  What a joy it will be.

On the flip side, the thought of going home also brings about a whole different bout of sadness to my inmost being and I honestly do not know how I am going to say ‘good bye’ to these kids in a few short weeks.  I ‘fear’ how reverse culture shock will ‘hit’ me upon arriving at home.  I know already, that my emotions will get the best of me and so I ask that patience and grace will be extended as I try and share what is going on inside of me.

As if leaving Grace in 2012 wasn’t hard enough, leaving now will be near impossible.  This place truly has become my ‘home away from home’ and I know I’ll be leaving behind an even greater piece of my heart.  Instead of only a few strong connections, I will now be leaving an awesome group of 10 grade 10’s who I have grown to love teaching each day.  Their personalities as diverse one can imagine.  I will miss getting my many hugs every day, from a certain 8 year old, as she leaps into my arms regardless if I am ready to catch her or not.  That act alone speaks to the love and trust that has been built.  Sunday afternoon bible studies with the older dorm girls, has become an intentional time in digging into the Word of God together, as Beloved Daughters.  I’ll miss being called “Auntie Nikki” by over 100+ young voices.  Quiet times of listening, as one opens up about past hurts and pains, praying for the individual beside me, will soon become a memory.  Yet the prayers, won’t ever stop.  Hand in hand with the little ones, walking them to school for another day of learning, is a moment in which has become priceless to me.  Listening to the kids sing praises to God each and every Sunday morning, leaves me in awe of just how Great our God is!

Recently, the comment was made to me, “I don’t know how you can do it.  Pour into so many people like you do and help everyone” Truth is, I cannot help everyone.  However, it is the moments mentioned above, that drives me on each and every day here in Zambia.  It is the anticipation of reconnecting with those at home that drives me on to love those here, harder.  At the same time, it is that anticipation of reconnecting with those at home, that drives me on to love them harder even from afar.  One moment, one life at a time. 

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter where one is in this world.  God calls us to love.  To BE His hands and feet.  For me in this moment, God has called me here to love.  So love I will. 

In Him, I will renew my strength.  I will rise on wings of eagles and soar.  I can run and not grow weary.  Always, when I wait for Him.  I can walk and never faint.  Always, when I wait for You.

A Father to the fatherless (a tribute to my dad)

June 21 marked a special day this year, set aside as a day to celebrate dads.  It was Father’s Day.

Normally, being away from home on any holiday, doesn’t bother me.  I’ve missed all the major ones (Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter) before due to my year on the World Race.  I have missed birthdays and Mother’s Day (twice in a row!! Oops sorry mom!)  but for some odd reason, missing Father’s Day this year was one of the hardest days to miss.

So what was it about this year that made missing Father’s day so hard?

Easy answer.

It is because of where I am.

Instead of spending the day this year with my own dad, I spent it with children half way around the world who are ‘fatherless’ according to society’s standard.  Instead of going for an early round of golf (basically me being the caddy) with my dad; an early morning church service, African style, took place.  What followed was an impromptu photoshoot with a few of the older girls and a full day of hugs and laughter through hanging out with the kids.  Even through the laughter and silly moments, I could feel God giving me a ‘different’ set of eyes, stirring something up once again in my heart.

It took a ‘shoulder to shoulder’ conversation on the grass with one of the students (who has quickly become one of my favourites) in my English class, to reveal to me exactly what God was trying to teach me.  What started off as a simple question, “How is God?” (aka; what is God teaching you?) turned into her sharing a piece of her story with me.  Words cannot describe the very real, very raw pain that was still present in this individual’s voice as she shared.  She told of how her father had rejected her early on and that he wanted nothing to do with her.  I could feel the rage build up within me towards this man as I continued to listen to her share.  Thoughts of, “How DARE he? How dare he do that to her. Doesn’t he know how impacting a statement like that, can be? I’d love to get my hands on his neck and throttle him good.”  

Although I have heard more intense stories than this before, there was something about hearing this one that struck me.  Perhaps it was due to the fact that I knew I was missing Father’s Day at home.  Or perhaps it was that I knew I was (am) surrounded by kids and teenagers alike who do know what it is like to have a dad attend/coach their sporting endeavours, supporting and cheering them on from the side.  They don’t know what it is like to have a treasure hunt that last way longer than they should (sorry dad!), or spend countless number of hours getting help on that one specific math question (again, sorry dad!).  That is what broke my heart the most; the fact that these kids do not have memories of their own like that. 

While she was sharing and during this time of internal wrestling going on inside of me, I could feel my Father Above whispering into my ear. “Nikki, tell her about MY love.  About how I will never ever reject her.  How I created her for a purpose, for a specific reason.  How, each day, she is growing within me even though she does not personally know me.  I am what she is truly searching for”.

 

…A Father…

A Father to the fatherless.  A Pure, Perfect, Holy Father who literally sent His own son to die a painful death on the cross so that we may live in HIM and know HIM.  That is God.  Without Him in our lives, we are all 'fatherless'.  

My prayer that day, and every day since is that this girl (and those like her at home and around this globe) will know their Father Above.  That they will know that God has NOT rejected them and that He never will.  That they will know the love of a true Heavenly Father.

-------------------------

For the record, I did call my dad back in Canada that day.  

We didn’t talk about anything to deep or serious.  We simply talked.  

Even from half way around the world, I could feel the support and love from my dad.  A support and love that propels me here each and every day to love these kids even harder.  To be there for them as they celebrate a soccer/netball win.  To encourage them to practice hard and study hard.  To keep them guessing with daily English related riddles and to embrace them with arms wide open as they (the young ones) run at me for a hug.  Although the only thing my dad and I would read together were the daily crossword puzzle in the newspaper, my evenings are now free to spend time reading with the older youth.  This reading time is often one of the highlights of my day.

So much more could be said.  But for now, thank you Dad. 

Thank you for being my dad and for loving me the way you do. 

Reunited after 11 months abroad

Finding "Me"

This weekend, will mark 3 months upon returning from the World Race. Within those 3 months, I have experienced every emotion possible (and then some).  Re-entry is seriously NO JOKE.  Name an emotion and, chances are, I have experienced it. Seriously…culture shock…who knew?

The ‘Honey moon’ stage of being home, quickly ended and my heart yearned for the days of ministry on the race.  It missed the strangers that quickly became friends and, even quicker, became my family for 11 months. They “got” me.  They knew where I was coming from and they knew of the struggles I faced while on the race.  They were also well aware, of the similar struggles we had since being home.

Truth be told, I was angry. I was hurt, lost and I felt completely alone.  I KNEW KNOW who I am on “the missions field”, but I struggled with finding out just, ‘who I am now’ at home.  Back in life where a “9-5 job’ is ‘normal.  Where we drive on the right side of the road and where people actually use laundry machines to wash their clothes (instead of by hand that I was so used to doing).  As complex as it was at times, life on the race was ‘simple’.  I wanted people to ‘get’ me like they once did. Yet I wrestled inwardly because, how were they, supposed to ‘get’ me when I MYSELF was still trying to figure stuff out? It wasn’t fair to them and it certainly wasn’t fair to me.

As you may know, my original plans upon returning home, literally got thrown out the window with one email. All of a sudden, I was jobless, school-less and had 3 full months to ‘kill’ and to figure out the next step in life.  I felt as though I had just finished high school and was once again in that, “now what?” stage of life.

God works in interesting ways though. Even here at home.  As I was wrestling in my own self doubt and lack of confidence, I could feel God telling me to, “REST.” “REST Nikki. REST IN ME.  MY plans for YOU are great. You trusted me while overseas…but that trust doesn’t stop now that you are ‘home’.  In fact, your ‘battle’ is only starting, but you KNOW I AM WITH YOU. So rest.”

So I did. 

I spent time with friends, family, youth and simply learning to be ‘me’ again.  I allowed myself to sleep in and to stay in my PJ’s all day without feeling bad.  I watched more NCIS than I care to admit and I realized that I really would be ‘okay’ as God did not forget about me.

This past month, has been one of the BEST months since being home.  God has totally brought things ‘full circle’ and continues to break my heart for what breaks His right here.  I was able to be a part of my youth mission’s team to a small Metis community for a week of VBS and ministry.  I was going ‘home’.  Back to the start of where God began to truly stir my heart for missions.  The week FLEW by and I so wasn’t ready to leave.  I LOVED seeing my youth, ‘in action’ serving the kids, playing with them, teaching stories, and singing songs.  Watching them encourage, build up and support one another…is a moment I know I won’t be forgetting. God is raising up leaders among our youth people and I’ve never been prouder to be a part of something so great happening here at home.  Hearing their God stories. Taking risks and telling things as they were, blessed, encouraged and strengthened us as a whole.  The thought of, “if ONLY church was truly like this…” crossed my mind a number of times.  God didn’t speak that week in a roaring fire, or mighty Wind.  He spoke through HIS people. His chosen, holy, yet broken, young people.   

And boy, did I listen. 

Yet God still wasn’t done.  He knew I craved World Race community and brought me back to the place where THAT all began…LONG before I even knew I would someday go on my own race with a crazy group of radicals.  He brought me back to TMBC, a camp I worked at one summer 6 years ago for two weeks.  He brought me back to the directors who spoke an incredible Truth into my life and, in doing so, stirred my heart once again for youth and youth ministry.  The stories I heard while at camp, simply said…wrecked me. My co cabin leader and I, had the BEST group of 14-19 year olds possible for a cabin at camp.  Our evening “5 minute” devotionals quickly became an hour long discussion on everything and anything.  Mornings rolled around all to quickly, but God always provided strength that was needed for the day.

At the end of the week at our Friday night campfire, God humbled me time and time

again through the stories and testimonies of what happened that week.  Lives were literally changed (and saved) in a span of a week.  One of the girls stood up and flat out admitted to wanting to come to camp to commit suicide, yet God grabbed hold of her heart and soon, she accepted Jesus into her own life as her personal Saviour.  Another girl stood up and talked about how she didn’t know where she would be sleeping once camp was done, but she trusted Jesus to provide a bed for her.  

Faith. Incredible. Deep rooted. Faith.

Faith that I thought was ‘lost’ upon landing back in North America.  Faith that I thought was only possible overseas and in cultures that are not my own.  Yet here it was.  Shining through the lives of campers during a high school week of camp.

As I step into becoming a student and going back to university in a few short days…I don’t know what lies ahead.  Truth is, I am scared. If I could, I’d rather hop on a plane to take me away to a place unknown. Yet I know, God has called me here.  Right now, He has called me to a season of schooling.  The next chapter within a life that is simply trying to follow after her Creator.