Sunday, April 7, 2013


Fellowship

Thursday

Oh, I’m tired!  I think we all are.  It’s been a busy, exhilarating, heart-breaking, exhausting week.

We were at CFI this morning for Family Day.  The mothers of the elementary kids came for a meal, some fellowship, and to see their children receive their new CFI t-shirts and a small gift from Hope for His Children.  I had to leave for a short while to go to the airport, but was told later that the women enjoyed a good time of fellowship together while they waited for the activities to start.

The donation bag I brought with me never arrived in Addis.  Ephrim has been faithfully pursuing that bag all week.  He was finally told that I needed to come to the airport and go through the tagless bags.  This would be my adventure for the day. 

Whenever you arrive in Addis, there is an area at the end of baggage claim that is a large glass cage divided into two separate sections.  You can easily see through the glass that the room is nothing but shelves from floor to ceiling filled to bursting with bags that have never been claimed.  The rooms are jammed full, and bags even sit on the floor outside the locked doors.  Having seen that area every time I’ve arrived in Addis, it has always intrigued me in a fascinating, disturbing kind of way.  This area was my destination.

I arrived at the airport to be told that the airport representative had checked each of the stations I had flown through to track my bag.  The report I got was surprising:  Frankfurt reported that they had never received my bag from Chicago.  Either my bag never left Chicago for some reason, or my bag was sitting in some glass enclosure somewhere in the Frankfurt airport with its identifying tag blowing around the grounds of O’Hare. 

Ephrim drove me to the airport, and I was invited into the two glass rooms.  Remember, I was carrying a large black duffel bag.  Guess how many black pieces of luggage were in those rooms?  All except 5.  Guess how many were large black duffel bags?  At least a third.  A very nice young Ethiopian woman who worked for the airport did her best to help me.  She showed me that each tagless bag had been given a tag by the Bole’ airport showing its date of arrival in Ethiopia.  As I pointed out the bags I thought might be mine, she would look at the tag and tell me the date.  None of them were close to the date I had arrived.  In one room, a large ladder rested against the shelves and reached all the way to the top of the glass enclosure.  Neither of us opted to climb that ladder and check the bags at the top.  I finally found one bag that I thought might really be it.  It happened to be on a shelf at eye level.  It had zippered end pockets, just like the bag I’d carried, so I just zipped open one end to see if the contents were familiar.  As I did, a thick yellow gooey substance with small black oval shaped objects in it began to ooze out.  Before I could react, the end of one fingertip was covered, and two or three flying bugs of some sort escaped the pocket.  I dropped the end of the bag I was holding, and my young Ethiopian friend ran out of the room as fast as she could.  I then began trying to open my backpack one-handed without letting it touch anything, including the floor, so I could retrieve the disinfecting hand wipes I always keep handy here.  It was a struggle.  Before I succeeded, my friend came back in the room and offered me a Kleenex.  That felt something like being offered a toddler’s float toy in the middle of a hurricane on the ocean, but I gratefully accepted it and rid myself of yellow stuff, and then dug out both disinfecting wipes and hand sanitizer and spent the next 15 minutes trying to remove all the skin from the end of that finger.  The young woman from the airport dragged the bag off the shelf and dropped it to the floor, which prompted a whole swarm of insects to fly up into the air.  She and I both were darting for cover that time.  We had our own odd bond of fellowship this morning. 

Anyway, I never found my bag.  I’m guessing the tag fell off in Chicago, and it lives in some scary unclaimed baggage room in Frankfurt, where some poor soul will open it one day to find the milk cartons I packed turned into some green form of yuck and will be horrified when they stick their finger in it. 

My conversation with Ephrim on the way back to CFI was good.  God has given us amazing people to work with in Ethiopia, and we have truly grown to love them.  These friends really, really love Jesus.  They inspire us, take care of us, and amaze us with their sacrifice, wisdom, and faithfulness.  It is a blessing to know them and to spend time with them.

The rest of the morning at CFI was good, although lunch was hard.  In Ethiopia, you eat with your hands, and I was still certain my hand belonged in a hazmat facility, so I really didn’t eat much. 

After lunch, we went to a ministry called fashionABLE.  fashionABLE is a ministry that helps women rescued from prostitution learn weaving so that they can earn a living wage and support their families.  An American man named Ian runs that ministry with his wife.  Ian gave us a great rundown of their work.  They are another family who has given everything to love the oppressed, the poor, and the suffering.  (Just since we’d seen him in October, Ian and his wife had adopted another Ethiopian child, giving them 4 children, two biological and two adopted from Ethiopia.)  I’d been to fashionABLE in the fall, but was particularly blessed this time to see how Ian interacted with the women.  They talked and laughed and gave each other a hard time, and it was a blessing to see their fellowship with him – a healthy, loving relationship between former prostitutes and a man who loves the Lord.  It was good also to talk and visit with Ian, to hear his vision and his mission and his struggles.  Although we are short term workers, and he is full-time on the field, there was a shared fellowship of love for Jesus and for those He has called us all to serve.

Our day ended with a trip to Island Breeze for dinner.  This spot is a favorite on HfHC’s mission trips.  It offers real wood-fired pizzas, and a number of menu items that look like they come from any restaurant in your town.  For digestive systems that have all at some point been rumbling or squeamish or shut down or overactive and for American palates that have been challenged by different, exotic food, Island Breeze is a welcome respite.  (Note, however, that everything Yeshi makes for us at the guest house is incredibly good and wonderfully healthy.  Although some of us aren’t used to that either!)  The power was out, so our menu options were limited – no French fries!  As the sun set, we ate by candlelight.  It was somehow comforting to see other firenjis (the Ethiopian word for “foreigner”) pouring into the restaurant and also interesting to think about where they might have come from and what they might be doing in this country.  Sitting around pizzas and sodas with our team and our Ethiopian friends, there was good conversation and a lot of laughter.

Today was a day of blessed fellowship all the way around.  Fellowship between women who share the struggles of motherhood and womanhood and poverty and rejection.  Fellowship with women I love, but can’t really speak to and that I see only once a year.  Fellowship with a young Ethiopian woman sharing an adventure both of us would have preferred not to have.  Fellowship between the rescuer and the rescued.  Fellowship between workers for the kingdom.  Fellowship between team members.  And fellowship with Ethiopian friends that have come to feel like family.

Thank You, God, for friends, for kindred spirits, for those who share our passions and our hearts.  Thank you for those who share our adventures and who share our life experiences even when those experiences look so very different. Fellowship is so sweet, such a blessing, a wonderful gift.

2 comments:

  1. I'm sure you are nearing home by now but I have been so blessed to read about your journey to Ethiopia. Sweet rest my friend, let's talk soon! Miss you and love you!

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    1. Dear Sister, how I wish you had shared these experiences with me! The joys and tears would have been more precious with you! Loved your family! But missed you so much!!! I love you!

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