Farewells

Saturday arrived too quickly.  In the midst of all that we saw and did, the time flew so fast.  Up through Tuesday, I was present and enjoying every experience, every moment.  On Wednesday, I didn’t feel well, so I sort of felt like I lost that day.  Then it was Thursday, and we only had two days left.  As I described earlier, Friday was a blur.  Then Saturday was here, and it was time to say goodbye. 

We spent Saturday at another orphanage.  We left Addis around 9:00 a.m. and drove out of the city about an hour.  The drive was lovely – through the mountains that surround the city.  We arrived in Solulta and entered a large compound that housed the orphanage.  The Solulta orphanage houses 54 kids from Addis.  These children come from the streets of Addis, abandoned.  They are from 7 to 15 years of age.  The orphanage was started by an Ethiopian pastor, who now lives in Phoenix, Arizona.  The compound includes two dormitories (The girls’ dorm is much neater and cleaner, is decorated with lovely paintings the girls have made, and smells nicer than the boys’ dorm!), a dining hall/classroom/worship center building, a building that houses supplies, the clinic, and the administrative office, a chicken house, a garden and small fruit orchard, flower beds, a basketball goal, and a half-finished schoolhouse.  In the front, it is surrounded by a concrete wall with a big iron gate, as are most houses and compounds in the city.  However, on the other three sides, the area is enclosed only by a tin fence.  The director told us that they are constantly repairing the fence, as the winds in the mountains are frequently blowing parts of it down.  When the fence is down, hyenas can enter the compound.  Need #1: money to complete a stone or concrete wall around the compound.

The children in the school are driven every day all the way into Addis to attend school.  The village and area surrounding the orphanage speak a different language than is spoken in Addis.  In Addis, school is taught in Amharic, the national language.  In the villages, a number of tribal languages are spoken.  A new school is being constructed so that the kids don’t have to ride so far to school every day.  In the middle of the project money ran out, so the school sits half finished while they wait for more funding.  Need #2: money to complete the school.

The children in this orphanage are smart.  Many of them speak a bit of English.  The director boasted about how many of them are artists and what wonderful artists they are.  (In a land focused on survival, how amazing to hear someone in an orphanage discussing art!!)  In the rainy season, they have a garden that provides fresh vegetables for the children.  The chickens provide eggs.  The orchard contained apple trees that produced apples for them until a hail storm demolished the trees.  They are re-growing, but it will take a while for them to produce apples again.

The orphanage is run with committees.  The director reported that they have a health committee, a supply committee, a food committee, a discipline committee, etc.  One boy and one girl from the orphanage are on every committee.  They have a voice in how things are run.  They raise issues and make sure that kids’ needs are being met.  They get a vote.  They help decide who gets what and what needs should be met first.  Again, the idea that the children are involved in how things are run in an orphanage is stunning!  As Dave pointed out, not only does this give them a voice, but it gives them experience and responsibility that they can use to make it in this world.

We also learned that the folks running this program are committed to seeing these kids through to employment and self-sufficiency.  For those able, they are given support in applying to and paying for the University.  For those unable, they are provided funding for vocational school.  No child will be turned out without the means for survival and success.  Unheard of!  Most orphanages have a maximum age limit.  Once you reach that limit, you’re out, sometimes with a small sum of money, often with nothing.  To equip kids to be successful in the world as they leave an orphanage is rarely ever done.

It was a lovely day.  Again, as is almost always the case, the sun was shining, a breeze was blowing, the sky was blue, the kids seemed happy, peaceful, and okay.  What a huge blessing to see what orphan care can look like when it’s done right.

We returned to the city and to the guest house, and the flurry of packing by our teammates began.  It was weird to sit and watch, knowing that we weren’t leaving.  It left me with an ache.  I didn’t want anyone to leave.  When you experience something so intense, so moving, and so life-changing with a group of people, your lives are forever sealed together.  These people had been kind and gracious and loving to my children and to me.  We had wept together, worshiped together, worked together, prayed together, eaten together.  They had blessed me.  We had shared emotions and experiences that many never know.  I couldn’t bear the thought of them leaving.  We gathered for one last team meeting.  Carlos couldn’t even participate.  He is my sensitive child, and the thought of his new friends leaving was more than he could bear.  He left the room, standing just outside the doorway or the open window, and cried as we met.  All too quickly, they packed their luggage into the waiting vans and drove away.  We stood as a family and cried together.

But God is so gracious.  Just when we were prepared to enter an empty, quiet, lonely house and sob ourselves silly, in walked three new guests.  We had housemates after all!  God provided for us so tenderly in our moment of sadness and vulnerability.  We so needed new faces, introductions, and a distraction from the grief of good-bye, the sadness of ending an experience that had changed our lives and marked our hearts forever.  Thank You, Lord!  You are always and completely good!

Changed 2012 had ended, but a new adventure was beginning for the five of us.  (Dave’s sister, Terri, stayed with us.)  We were leaving the next day for Awassa, in southern Ethiopia, to take Kidist back to see her birth family for the first time.

As I write these words, that adventure, too, is over.  It has been a crazy, frightening, glorious week, but it is done.  We will be leaving, too, in a few hours to come home, blessed home. I will have to tell you the story of Awassa and what happened after once we return home.  We have over 24 hours of travelling ahead of us, and at least a day to recover, but I will be back in a few days to share the rest of the adventure.

A hard, hard day

Here I am a week behind.  At a certain point on a trip like this, your spirit becomes overwhelmed, and your body does, too.  At the end of each day, all you can do is drag your body to bed, your mind numb, and fall into sleep.  Last Friday was just such a day.  Each day before that, after everyone else was in bed, I had plenty of quiet time to write to you.  On Friday, however, I had nothing to give. 

On Friday morning, our group went to a government orphanage in the city.  The orphanage holds 150 kids but is currently housing 210.  The children in the orphanage were found by the police on the streets of Addis, abandonded.  Even when you are full, how do you turn down a child who has no place else to go?  The woman who runs the orphanage truly has a heart for the children.  She is developing new programs to ensure that the children are able to transition into normal society after they have to leave the orphanage.  Still, it is a disturbing place to visit. 

We pulled in through the gate, got out of our vans, and walked up a rocky hill.  A group of small children (all under the age of 4, I would guess) were playing on the dusty, rocky hillside.  Every single one of them had a nose running thick green and yellow, which was smeared over their faces.  Most of them had eyes running the same way.  Their clothes were rags.  None of them had diapers or underwear.  When I picked up a little boy who was maybe two, his pants fell off, because the elastic in the dirty little pair he was wearing was worn out.  They all want to be held, and when you are holding them, they are desperately jealous of the attention.  The little one I had, at less than two, would try to shoo away any other child that came near us.  Anyone not being held was desperately jealous of the attention as well.  A boy slightly older than my little one came up and pinched the leg of the one I was holding, hoping, I suppose, to cause him to get down, so he could be held.  Nothing doing.  I suppose you could have pulled my little guys' leg off, and he would have clung to me for dear life.

When these precious, sick, filthy children run to you holding up their arms, there can be a hesitation.  Shameful as it may seem, there is that thought, “What am I going to catch?”  or “How sick am I going to be half way round the world with no medical care I am comfortable with?”  I confess I had that hesitation.  My exact thought was, “I wonder if Michelle has pink eye medication?”  (Michelle, our team leader is a doctor and comes well prepared on these trips.)  The hesitation for me was short, but it was most definitely there.  And I sure didn’t feel good about it.  As the pink eye thought was crossing my mind, I was scooping up that precious little 2 year old boy.  Then I noticed:  They were all playing with trash.  The boy I picked up had the remains of a blue plastic shopping bag.  Another was running around with the jagged edged lid of a tin can.  Yet another had a piece of spring from a chair.  Garbage.  Their toys were garbage.  Dangerous items.  My little friend proceeded to wrap his dirty piece of shopping bag around my neck.  It was not a moment I enjoyed for either one of us.  Hard reality brings out the hard truth of this life and the hard truths about ourselves.

After playing with the kids for awhile, we went into a large room in their main school building.  A TV was turned on, and the kids were given a snack.  We were invited into the director’s office where she told us about her work and her commitment to care for these kids and make life better for them.  As bad as this place seemed to us, it is better than the alternative every single one of them faced, especially with a woman like her sitting behind the main desk. 

We were then given a tour of the facility.  We walked through the boys’ sleeping room and the girls’ sleeping room and were then taken to the baby room.  The baby room was small, with small glass bassinets like you see in the hospital.  The babies were small.  These were the newborns that had been abandoned and brought to this place.  (Can you imagine a police officer carrying the tiny, tiny form of a wailing infant through the city streets to the gate of this facility?)  Many of them were two to a bassinet, and in one bassinet were the tiniest ones of all – twins, as tiny as matchsticks it seemed, eyes closed, not moving.  Not all of them survive.  The director explained that their greatest challenge in that place was keeping the little ones alive when they arrive.  I stroked cheeks, whispered softly, and tried to pray.  Honestly, my mind couldn’t form a thought.  A defense mechanism, I suppose.  Any thought I might have formed would have crushed my heart, I’m sure.

We were then encouraged to move on.  We left the room through a door at the opposite end of the room from where we had entered.  I remember only having a sense of relief that we would be moving on.  As we stepped through the next door however, a greater shock was waiting – a room easily three times the size of the one we’d just left, holding what seemed to be hundreds of baby beds, every single one of them filled with either one or two babies.  It was like slamming into a brick wall.  Every breath leaves your body.  Your mind reels and tries to reject what you are seeing.  As I forced myself forward through the room (the door out was on the opposite side of the room), I saw a number of my teammates weeping.  One looked intently into my eyes as if demanding an explanation, an answer, a solution.  I had nothing to give.  All I could say was, “I know.”  The only conscious thought I remember having was noticing that the beds were so shallow that any child could easily fall out if they only stood up or leaned over the edge.  Again, I stroked cheeks, whispered to them, and walked on through.  What else was there to do?  One little guy, a bit older, perhaps one or so, stood up in his bed in the corner and wailed loudly the entire time.  It was clearly a cry for help, a plea for rescue.

After the baby ward, we were taken so a small room in another building where the special needs children were kept.  It had maybe 10 beds.  It seemed dark, but I know it had a window.  One nanny was feeding a child whose head seemed very small and who looked to have Downs Syndrome.  He was having trouble eating the porridge she was feeding him.  I didn’t stay in that room long.  I had gone completely numb by that point and was just following the person in front of me as we moved on. 

I don’t know what we did next.  At some point we left.  We were destroyed.  Hearts shattered.  Horrified.  Desperate.  How can it be?  What can be done?  How soon? 

Friday afternoon, we travelled to an area of Addis called Bole Bulbula.  It sits on the outskirts of the city near the airport.  It is hilly, and there are small gatherings of huts and shacks on the hills and the ridges.  In one of those communities, there is a church, and that church has done some amazing ministry.  They have dug well.  They have started a women’s ministry – training women skills that will allow them to earn income and provide for their families.  They have a drop-in center for children.  they are looking to open a full-time daycare for working moms.  It is run by a wonderful pastor who has a love for the people.  It was a much needed lift for the soul after our morning. 

I had seen Bole Bulbula before and been won over by the ministry they provide to women.  Some women from my church were won over as well, and I know we will do work with and for this ministry in the future.  However, I have to confess that all I really remember from our visit this year is the scenery.  We left the church compound and drove a short distance to park and then walk to the location where a new church will be built for this community.  We laughed that we could have just as quickly walked from the original location to the new and avoided the drive.  After seeing the new building site, we inquired with the pastor and learned that we could, indeed, walk back to the current church compound, so a group of us set off across the hillsides on our walk.  It was breathtaking.  The sky was a clear blue with puffy white clouds, and a cool breeze was blowing.  The hillside was farm country, and we came across two farmers threshing their grain with pitchforks.  Cattle and goats covered the hill.  Carlos had opted to walk with me, so part of the way we held hands and enjoyed the scenery.  I had the overwhelming sensation of “I am in Africa!”  There was nothing to think about, no plans to make, no problems to solve.  It was simply beautiful. 

I didn’t think a lot at all on Friday.  I did a lot of feeling.  Wretched, desperate lows and lovely, peaceful highs.  And God was in the midst of all of it.  Thinking or feeling, choosing or being, He is there.  He knows.  For Friday, that was enough.

Snapshots

As this week has progressed, what has been burned into my heart are images, visual snapshots, pictures of my teammates:

Carrie sitting with a beautiful young woman at Bright Hope School, looking at her school notebook, complimenting her work, laughing together, both of them totally engaged, eyes dancing, smiling and talking.

Zoe playing clapping games with young boys at Onesimus and holding that precious little girl until she fell asleep. 

Tim pulling fighting boys apart with firm but gentle hands, the perfect picture of fatherly discipline as it should be.

Dick giving up a whole day of his mission trip to sit at the guest house and supervise the Ethiopian electrician so that we could all be safe and have power and hot water.

Carlos standing in a tree at CFI, acting out the story of Zaccheus for the children.

Kidist holding hands and playing with other little Ethiopian girls her age, so very much alike and yet so very different. 

Terri stirring the cooking pot at CFI’s family day, helping the staff and mothers cook the food for our luncheon today.

Dean spending so much time with Carlos, playing cards, talking, watching him play computer games, consoling him after the fire, selflessly engaging a 9 year boy, just because he’s kind and good.

Neil loving on and being loved by every single child we come into contact with, acting goofy, making them laugh, playing, teasing.

Mark taking the time to shake the hand of every single mother/guardian at CFI this morning and watching their faces open up and smile and some of them duck their heads shyly, as he paid them respect and attention.

Erica jumping out of our group picture (more than once) to hug and say good-bye to yet another CFI child who is precious to her.

Michelle T. in intense discussions with Peter and Elizabeth, Ephrim, Derejet, Nega, Jonathan and Jess, and others about the present and the future of the ministries Hope for His Children supports in this place because her heart is on fire for the women and children here.

Cindy flawlessly coordinating more donations than a whole team of people can keep track of, along with all the suitcases and duffel bags that carried those donations here.

Michelle R. paying tribute to her husband’s sweet service on this trip and talking about how proud their girls would be of their dad, tears flowing.

Kathy B. passing out hugs which bring people to tears because in her arms you are safe and at peace and loved, at least for that moment.

Dave staying up way too late to prepare a Bible story for the kids at CFI, just in case the person on tap to give it doesn’t make it there on time.

Deacon so eager to be a team leader to the kids at CFI, excited to participate and be a part of the team and serve.

Kathy L. offering that calm wisdom that blesses me so often.

I confess I felt a little guilty about that.  The trip, after all, is about sharing the love of Jesus.  We are here to serve in His name and bring Him glory.  I shouldn’t be so focused on my teammates, right?  And then I realized:  these snapshots are so intensely sweet for me because my teammates are reflecting the very face of Jesus.  They are the perfect image of Him as they love, serve, laugh, share, and listen.  I love them so very much, because they are so very much like Him.  Those images are so pressed upon my heart because my heart recognizes His Spirit within them.  It is about them, because they are about Him.

Thank You, Lord, for this team.  They are precious to me, and I know they are precious to You.  Bless them, please.  Show Yourself gloriously through them in these last two days. 

High/low

This entry will be short as I am a day behind.  Today is Thursday, but I haven't yet written about Wednesday. 

Each day after we finish our activities and return to the guest house for the night, we have a group meeting.  We discuss the day just finished and the plan for the day upcoming, and everyone shares their high point of the day and their low point.  Here are my high and low for yesterday, Wednesday.

Yesterday morning we were back at CFI.  After the first day, the kids have been waiting for us each day at the gate.  They run into your arms and hug you, so glad we are back.  Some of them will wade through the group looking for that one special adult, the one who held them all morning yesterday or played ball with them.  Even though Zoe, Terri, and I have worked with the women almost exclusively, we each are still part of the swarm of arriving each morning. 

On Tuesday, as we were leaving for CFI, Zoe came out to the van asking if it was okay to go to CFI without her passport as she hadn't been able to quickly find it.  We left, and she came with us, and when we got back to the guest house that night she still couldn't find it.  Michelle, being the able leader that she is, realized that Timkit (Epiphany in Ethiopia) began on Wednesday, and that if Zoe was going to have to go to the U.S. Embassy to try to get a new passport, she was going to have to right away.  Offices would be open Wednesday and maybe a half day on Thursday and then closed till next week.  Not good if you need a whole passport processed by Saturday night!

When we came back from CFI to have lunch, I was so heavy for Zoe.  After lunch, the group was headed for Bright Hope School, and Zoe was going to the U.S. Embassy.  Elizabeth, Peter's wife, who is American and has had to deal with the U.S. Embassy here, was going with Zoe.  I felt so burdended to pray for Zoe, for the passport, for it to be found.  Yet, I couldn't find a time or a group to join me.  Finally, as we were walking out the door to Bright Hope School, I just grabbed Michelle and Zoe, and we prayed together.  We boldly asked that the passport be found and that it be found right away - before Zoe even got on her way to the Embassy.  We were confident in God's grace, His mercy, and His power. 

We left the guest house.  I kept hoping the guest house manager would run out the door at the last minute waving the passport in the air.  She didn't.  We made a stop at Peter & Elizabeth's house, so Elizabeth could get her passport.  It suddenly occurred to me that Zoe's passport could be there.  She had been in Peter and Elizabeth's house earlier this week.  It wasn't.  We talked on the way to Bright Hope and there was conversation that Zoe's passport could be there.  Ephrim dropped the group at Bright Hope and drove off with Zoe and Elizabeth.  I prayed.  I hoped.  We spent a couple of hours at the school.  Bright Hope is a government (public) school on the edge of Korah.  Korah is a community that was formed on the edge of the city trash dump.  It was started by lepers coming in from the countryside.  They were shunned from their neighborhoods and hoped to find medical care and opportunity to support themselves in Addis, the big city.  They found neither.  They were ostracized in the city as well, and formed a small community at the city trash dump where they could scavenge the trash for food and things they could sell.  I had heard about Korah, and we were supposed to visit the trash dump last year, but couldn't.  It was sobering to be there.  Korah has existed long enough now that a third generation has been born there from the original families.  Besides leprosy, the community also now suffers severely with AIDS.  Although Bright Hope is a government school (government schools are technically free, but require payment for uniforms and school supplies), 1500 children from Korah attend there totally free.  300 of those children suffer from AIDS and are also given a free lunch.  It is an amazing place, with its own vegetable garden and chicken farm. 

As I stepped out of the director's office at Bright Hope, I saw Michelle, who said to me, "Zoe wants to hug your neck!"  My response:  "Zoe's here?"  With a huge smile, Michelle told me Zoe was there and had found her passport!  I wanted to scream!!!  I love it when God makes Himself known.  He invites us in the Bible in the last chapter of Malachi, to "try Me and see if I won't open the floodgates of heaven and pour out a blessing on you."  We did, and He did.  It is humbling and exciting to tell God out loud that you need Him and you trust Him and to ask Him to apply His hand to you.  It is breathtaking when He answers and does just that.  Zoe finding her passport, or more accurately, God directing Zoe to exactly where her passport was located, was my high for the day.

As we left Bright Hope, we were driven by the city dump.  I had caught a glimpse of it last year, in a sight that is seared into my mind and heart forever.  The sight this year was much the same.  Big backhoes were moving trash around in an area that was obviously used for new dumps.  As these enormous machines worked, as huge birds circled overheard, dozens of people scrambled over the trash.  They carried large shawls on their backs, and most of their shawls were full.  I cannot describe to you the feeling of watching fellow human beings digging in huge mounds of garbage for their very survival.  The feeling, indescribable as it is, only deepens when you think that they do it every day, and that it is all the hope they have of doing anything.  Watching those people in that place was my low. 

You don't forget images like that, and you shouldn't.  I hope I never do.  I also hope I never lose the sick feeling in my stomach when I think of it.  I pray it spurs me ever on to do something.  You also don't forget highs like that.  That kind of God high is the only thing that makes that kind of low bearable.  It is the only hope we have.  It is the only hope they have.  It is power in the midst of impossible tragedy and suffering.  I pray that we learn ever more to request it and to rely on it. 

Please pray for us as we continue seeking opportunities to bless, ways to make things better here, and wisdom to depend entirely on God who is the only One powerful enough to do something about it.

Beauty and Fire

I fully intended to post last night, but we had a little excitement - our guest house caught on fire!!!  We had an electrical fire in the breaker box right outside our bedroom on the third floor.  As we were putting the kids to bed, reading Bible story, etc., we kept hearing a crackling, whining noise.  We thought they were still grinding coffee downstairs in the kitchen, which they had been doing when we came upstairs. The lights began flickering and then were going off and coming on.  Again, this would not be that unusual when a coffee grinder is running, as the electricity is not completely dependable here.  However, what we didn't know was that the breaker box was flaming in the hallway on the same wall that our clothes cabinets in our room sit on (where all  our clothes, our passports, & our money are stored).  I heard voices, sounding excited, and then I heard, "Do you think I should get them out of here?" followed by "Yes!"  There came a knock on our door, and realizing the situation, Carlos ran down the stairs, Dave grabbed up Kiki, and I did what any mother would do - I started grabbing everything I thought we would need to get through the next couple of days and to eventually get out of the country!  I was loaded like a pack mule when I stepped into the hallway.  By that point the fire was out.  Thank you, Lord!

God always provides,  He knows what we need, and on this trip He knew we would need an electrician, so He provided us one in one of our team members.  Thank you, Dick!  He immediately had everything under control.  We ended up with no power on the top two floors of the guest house, but everyone was safe and the house only sustained damage on the one wall.  This morning an Ethiopian electrician came to assess the situation, under Dick's supervision.  (There is no building code here!)  We were told that we would have no power or electricity on the top two floors for the rest of the trip.  (Which I think meant that all 19 of us would be sharing one bathroom!!)  This afternoon, however, after further analysis and repair, the second floor has full power and hot water, and the third floor (ours) has hot water, but no power.  What a relief.  We don't need electricity, but hot water for a shower sure is nice.

The fire leads me to the beauty.  One of the greatest blessings of this trip has been my teammates.  Yesterday, we spent the morning back at CFI.  More time with the beautiful children, and wonderful fellowship with the women.  The number of women coming to our "women's fellowship" has increased each day.  Yesterday, we had almost 40.  We had planned a craft for each morning this week, and three of us are trying to coordinate teaching 35-40 Ethiopian women how to make something through a male interpreter!  We've dyed scarves, sewn small felt stuffed animals, and beaded the scarves.  Yesterday, we needed about a million small felt pieces cut out in the shapes of a lion's body, mane, paws, and face.  Several folks on our team spent Monday evening cutting out those shapes.  Even so, we ended up without enough yesterday morning - more women came than on Monday!  We needed to teach the sewing project and cut more pieces.  We also needed to iron the scarves that had been dyed on Monday, to heat set the color.  We were a little busy, to say the least.  Out of nowhere, in walks Dean, a member of our team, and says, "Do you need me to iron?  I'm free this morning, so I can iron for the next three hours if you need me."  WHAT?  A man, volunteering to iron for us for three hours?!  And before he even started that, he began cutting out our extra felt pieces with a pattern.  I'm not joking  when I say it was a beautiful act of service.

In the afternoon, we went to Onesimus - a drop-in center for the street kids of Addis Ababa.  Onesimus is an amazing place.  It provides education, food, medical care, and love and support to street kids - runaways, orphans, and abandoned children, from the very small to teenagers.  It is hard, hard work done by amazing Christian Ethiopians.  The ladies in our church collected books to fill new, mostly empty shelves in the Onesimus library.  What an amazing privilege to be the one to deliver those books, to see them go on the shelves, to see the joy and encouragement felt by the Onesimus staff.  Thank you, ladies of Northside Baptist Church!  You made a real difference in the world yesterday!  Onesimus, the name of a slave in the book of Philemon in the Bible, means, "thought to be useless, but useful to the Lord."  I love that name.

The kids at Onesimus are hardened street kids.  Many come into the center high.  They are scrappy and ready to fight.  They are in constant survival mode.  As they played basketball yesterday afternoon, a number of fights broke out - quick, vicious, violent fights.  And then, a picture of beauty.  One of the guys on our team, Tim, a tall, athletic guy who was running basketball drills with the kids, stepped in and pulled the kids apart.  He was calm, firm, and strong.  He stopped the fight and reprimanded the kids.  But the beauty was in the way he did it.  I'm sure some of these kids are used to getting knocked in the head by whatever adult happens to be around.  They get harrassed and likely beaten by the police.  They get bullied by older kids.  Here was a tall, strong man who treated them kindly and with respect even as he brought them under control and reprimanded them.  It was beautiful to watch. 

As the guys played basketball and ran drills with the boys (and yesterday there were primarily boys at Onesimus), I sat there wondering what to do to try to engage the boys.  As I looked around, I saw another teammate, Zoe, sitting on a bench playing hand-clapping games with a group of three older boys.  I had no idea what to do with these kids.  Zoe sat down and started playing.  Without being able to speak to each other, they were having a grand time and laughing their heads off.  It was beautiful.  There was one very small child at Onesimus yesterday, sitting alone on the stairs, staring off into space, alone.  Not much later, I saw Zoe holding that precious little one, rocking very slightly back and forth, rubbing her back gently.  Before I knew it both their eyes were closed.  It was a picture of perfect tenderness.  It was so incredibly beautiful.  Zoe has a breathtaking ability to engage and love kids.  It is a privilege to watch.

And finally, back to the fire last night.  Carlos was completely freaked out by the whole incident.  He was beside himself for a good while after the fire was put out.  Now understand, that he never wanted to come to Ethiopia to begin with.  He honestly admitted that he was afraid.  He is a cautious, cautious kid that hates the unknown.  He has come to Ethiopia and thrived, but a fire in the middle of it was just too much to bear.  The men on this team rallied round him and encouraged him, consoled and reassured him.  Boys need good Christian male role models, even those who have good fathers, like Carlos does.  My boy is surrounded by them on this trip.  I looked up once to see Dean hugging him and reassuring him.  Neil took him upstairs and gave him a special necklace to wear to sleep in that his father had given him.  Dick took the time to explain the electrical issues, which  means all the world to Carlos - knowledge dispells the unknown and thus, the fear.  Even Sirgahuy (sp?), the Ethiopian woman who runs the guest house and cooks and cleans for us, was hugging and kissing him and gave him a special flashlight when we had to go upstairs in the dark.  It was beautiful!!!

God tries us, and sometimes those trials are hard, hard, hard, but He gives us beauty in those trials.  Thank you, Lord, for eyes to see the beauty You so faithfully provide!

First Day of Service

The first time I came to Ethiopia I fell madly in love - with my new baby girl and with this beautiful country and its people.  The second time I came to Ethiopia, I was desperately heartbroken - by the tragedy of starving children, by the heartbreak of mothers who can't provide, by the vastness of the suffering.  On this, my third trip to Ethiopia, I was confronted by reality.  The beauty is still here, the dignity and joy are still present in the people, the passion and fire of their faith is pulsing, but the hunger, the loss, the pain, and the hopelessness slap you in the face. 

This morning, our whole group arrived at CFI at 9:00.  We conducted Bible school for the kids, and a few of us participated in a women's fellowship with the mothers/guardians of CFI's children.  This women's fellowship was a new addition from last year, and boy, was it popular!!  CFI cares for 70 children.  We expected up to 25 women in our fellowship and were surprised when 32 showed up and a few more wandered in as the morning progressed.  We had taken plain, white scarves and dye for the women to design and make their own beautiful scarves.  How fun it was to see them catch on to the process so quickly, make it their own, take charge, and create their own patterns and colors regardless of what the "typical" process was!  And all this despite a language barrier!  When we first started, I found myself without a particular assignment in the process, so I went around the room and tried to learn everyone's name and asked about their children.  We laughed alot, because after about 5 of them, I couldn't remember who was who or how to pronounce any of them except "Olive"!!  It touched me deeply to hear their stories - a mother who "disappeared" leaving her child to be raised by her sister, a grandmother whose daughter died, leaving her to raise a grandchild.  I was proudly shown beautiful twins, dressed identically, and was introduced to another Kidist, who immediately jumped into my arms and hugged me for at least 3 solid minutes.  What a joy to serve these amazing women, women who lead desperately hard lives, but whose joy is real and whose children are every bit as precious and wonderful as our own.

This afternoon we went to Kechene, the poorest area of Addis.  (And that's saying something.)  An amazing man named Nicodemus, in his old age, began (with his wife) caring for recently orphaned children in his neighborhood in Kechene a few years ago.  He now runs a drop-in center for impoverished and orphaned children in Kechene that serves 130 children 7 days a week.  The children are fed, clothed, and educated as best they can be given the resources available - an absolute miracle.  The main classroom is a cinderblock room with one window.  There are 24 benches, eight to a row in three rows, and the children sit three to a bench.  There is no electricity, and the only light comes from the one window or the one piece of vinyl that replaces a single sheet of tin in the roof.  I visited this same center last year on this trip and thoroughly enjoyed watching the children and their energetic, totally funny teacher sing songs and do silly motions for us.  They were amazing.  The room was depressing.  Walking back in that room today slayed me.  It was all the same - the same dark, dank classroom; the same desperate, desperate need; the same pain in tiny little faces; the same worn, ragged clothes.  It was almost more than I could bear.  As soon as the kids finished singing and we left the classroom to go outside and play, a little girl grabbed my hand and was my buddy the whole day.  All I had to offer today was a hand to hold, a smile, a game.  Important and yet woefully inadequate.  Her name was Delita, and she was an absolute delight.  I imagine her life is far from delightful.

Our kids continue to be amazing.  They played with the kids at CFI and at Kechene.  They did not cling.  They weren't afraid.  In fact, I had to go looking for them to see what they were up to and have the enjoyment of watching them participate.  They love the whole team, and how blessed we are to see the adults on this team engaging them in conversation, playing cards with them, making sure they have hand saniziter, including them.  After many long days and short nights already, they had baths and went to bed early tonight.  I pray they rest well.

We are so blessed.  As Michelle, our leader, has said many times, it is a privilege to be here doing this work.  It is amazing to be doing it together as a family.  It is important to know that children and mothers live this way.  And it is imperative that we follow the direction of our Lord and do something about it.  As our family verse for this trip says:  Pure and undefiled religion before our God and Father is this:  to care for orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself unstained by the world.  James 1:27.

Please pray for us as we start a new day of service tomorrow.

We're Here!!!!!!!!

Okay!  I dropped off the scene for the last two months, and I apologize for that.  Dave fell off a ladder Thanksgiving weekend and could have killed himself, but for the grace of God.  The last two months were a flurry of doctors' visits and surgeries, but amazingly, Dave was still good to go on our trip.  We got it all put together, and we are officially in Ethiopia! 

We left on Friday to meet our team at the airport, carrying more luggage than any one family could ever manage.  Each member of our family took two large suitcases, the kids each carried on a duffel bag, I had a purse (really a huge bag stuffed with snacks, neck pillows, passports, and about 50 lbs. of other gear), a book bag (which I never leave home without and which typically weighs at least 25 pounds), a camera bag, and a small rolling suitcase, which we also carried on.  We were on a different flight from the rest of our team, so we saw them off and then grabbed a bite of lunch.  Our flight was then delayed for over an hour - very stressful when you are supposed to connect to a flight in Detroit and then meet your team in Amsterdam for the final connecting flight to Ethiopia.  We made it to Detroit in time for our connection, and Carlos then got really stressed out about the overseas flight.  We talked about taking things one step at a time, settled into our seats, and took off.  At about 10:30 p.m. we settled in for sleep, and woke up in Amsterdam at 1:30 a.m. our time to discover it was really 8:30 a.m. where we were.  Short night.  We met our group, made our connection, and arrived in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia at 9:00 p.m., where we found our beloved Tia Terri, who had flown in to join us from Chicago via Franfort, Germany.  So, we left our house at 9:30 a.m. Friday morning, and arrived at the Providence Guest House, our place of residence for the week, at about 12:30 a.m. Sunday.  Door to door, that's 39 hours. 

I have to say, our kids were amazing.  Friday night gave them 3 hours of sleep, they had very little food (the airplane food was particularly horrible all the way through), and they went to bed at 1:00 a.m. Sunday morning.  Even so, we had no meltdowns, no tantrums (no big ones anyway), and lots of compliments on what great travellers they are.  Thank You, Lord!  Carlos vacillated between being distressed at going and thinking that this was a terrific adventure.  Kiki was excited beyond words the whole time.  By the time we went to bed Saturday night/Sunday morning, she'd already made friends with everyone on the team.  As we went to bed, Carlos was almost in tears, wishing he was home.  I confess I was ill at ease myself.  Lack of sleep and nutritious food were contributing factors, I'm sure.  I sent a quick text home to the two best sisters a girl could ever have, got immediate responses, scripture, and prayers, and finally fell asleep I don't know when.  3:00 a.m.?

Kidist slept like a rock.  Oddly, Carlos apparently decided to start sleep walking in Addis.  At least twice in the night, I woke up to find him walking around our room.  One time, he walked up to the side of the bed and asked, "What time is it?"  Both times he climbed back in bed and went back to sleep. 

The big joke about our room is that we got the "jacuzzi suite".  Having a family of four, we got the biggest room, which includes a double bed, a set of bunkbeds, and its own bathroom.  In that bathroom is the largest jacuzzi tub I have ever seen.  Not exactly what you expect to have on a mission trip.  What is hilarious, though, is the miniature hot water heater hanging on the wall above the tub.  That hot water heater provides exactly enough shower water for two people to get clean if each of you shuts off the water as soon as you wet your hair, turns it back on to rinse, shuts it off again to lather your body, and rinses off very quickly.  We decided that you could either have bubbles from the jets in a full tub of ice cold water or you could have a nice, hot soak for your feet!  I really don't get why the thing is there, but anyway, the Valadez family is enjoying a jacuzzi suite during our service to orphans and widows.  Shameful.

This morning we woke to an incredibly beautiful day.  Warm Ethiopian sunshine spilled from a bright blue sky with puffy white clouds.  We worshipped at Beza International Church.  They offer an 11:00 service in English.  These people know how to worship!  Carlos' comment as we left the church was, "These people know how to do music!"  We returned to the guest house for lunch:  eggplant and potatoes over rice (yummy), tuna pizza (yes, you read that right), and lamb pizza (also good). 

Peter Abera, founder of Compassion Family International, the organization we will spend the most time with this week, told his story and the history and mission of CFI.  He and his wife, Elizabeth, have incredible hearts for the Lord and for the poorest of children in Addis Ababa and their families.  Peter's story moved me to tears, even though I'd heard it once before.  Hearing how God orchestrated a million details to bring Peter and Elizabeth, to this place, doing this work, with the people that have come on this team, is astounding.  Truly, we serve a sovereign, almighty God. 

We are relaxing now as the sun is setting.  We'll have dinner, a team meeting, and then head off to bed.  Tomorrow, we meet the kids of CFI, and begin the heartbreaking work of loving those who are in the midst of the deepest tragedies.  Please pray for us!  Please pray that we get good sleep tonight.  Please pray that we bless kids and families/guardians tomorrow.  Please pray that God is glorified in all we do.