Selfless giving

As I sit in my room contemplating what to write, I am conflicted. I am conflicted because although more than a month has passed since my last blog past I feel as though nothing has changed, and yet I also feel as though so much has happened. As I debated what to share, I came upon the conclusion of sharing on my most recent community stay. It is fresh in my mind and I am fresh with emotions revolving around the poverty that I see and experience on a daily basis. 

The poverty that I am surrounded by never ceases to overwhelm me. Whenever I go into community and look around at the children with tattered clothing, runny noses, cuts, scrapes, protruded stomachs from a lack of nourishment, my heart shatters more every time. It never becomes easy going into community and seeing poverty. I don't think that anyone can every become ammuned to it. When I think about poverty, I question how it can exist when the western-world in comparison is so wealthy. I think about my home which is a mere two days plane ride away, which in reality is such a small amount of time, and the fact that I have over ten rooms in my house, and many of the individuals in Africa barely have one. I think about the fact that these children get one meal a day, and yet in the western world the tendency to over-eat food is so prevalent just because it is readily available. I think about how much school is taken for granted. Every child that I talk to in Africa has a dream. A dream to make a better life for themselves and their family. A dream that involves going to school and a chance to leave their community. How often do we flippantly take advantage of the gift of education?

For most individuals, these communities may seem dirty, boring, lonely, hopeless, and may represent the darkness that fills many of our children’s lives. All of those things may be true, and yet despite it all, I see such a beauty in these communities. A beauty that I don't understand, because they have such an immeasurable amount of joy and love for the Lord. A beauty that makes me re-consider what beauty truly means. This past weekend I did a community stay in one of our local communities, Siyathuthuka, with a 17-year-old girl Rose* and her family. On the last night I was there, Michelle, who I was with, asked Rose*, how would her life be different without church. Rose* simply stated that if she didn't have her faith, she wouldn't be able to thank God for every breath, every day, and every smile that she had. She is such a women of God and despite everything that she has been through, she continues to thank her Father for every day that she has. I want to learn to have a faith like that. It is almost a child-like faith where we give, we love, we trust, we surrender and are thankful with such abundance because we know nothing else. I want to have a faith and a love that surpasses all of the circumstances that I may face in my life. I want to take that leap of faith into the unknown but trust that God will catch me every single time.

The family that we stayed with stayed in a one room home with five people living in it. It was probably smaller then my bedroom at home. Yet they were happy. The hospitality that Michelle and I received over the weekend was unlike anything that I have ever experienced. They accepted us as apart of their family and the girls treated us like sisters. When we went over to the Rose's* best friend/neighbors house to hang out for the afternoon, the difference between the homes was huge. Rose's* home was a little one room house and her neighbors house was a big house with a fridge, microwave, tiled floors, and multiple bedrooms. Michelle and I wondered what the two girls must have thought of each other growing up. Would they have recognized the difference in the homes or asked why there was that distinction in the way that their homes looked. Or were they just young girls who didn't have a care in the world and it didn't matter to them. While we were at the neighbor’s home we watched Nigerian movies for about three hours. We were fed while we were there and when Michelle and I layed on the floor in order to try and get cooler, the neighbor brought us some of her pillows for our heads. That is hospitality; giving of yourself despite the fact that you may not know the person.

 I saw briefly that Rose* was writing a journal on the best weekend of her life. In it she mentioned that she could tell that we enjoying ourselves because we were doing what she does everyday.  At some moments during the weekend I could feel myself getting frustrated. I felt frustrated because we weren't doing anything and we were sitting around talking, watching movies, playing games. For some reason, I had this notion that we should be busier.  However when we returned home and I read James 1:19-20, which says “My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires.”  I realized that I had been totally wrong. I had been wrong in thinking that we had to be doing something all the time when in fact it was the exact opposite. I didn't have to be doing something all the time in order to connect with the family. It was simply about being still and listening with open ears and an open heart to what the family had to say and what the Lord had to say through them. 

One of the moments that shattered my heart was when I found out that her dad had abandoned her. In our communities the idea of the dad abandoning his family is tragically not something that is a novel idea. It happens quite regularly. Yet when I stayed with this family and found out that he had left my heart broke. I came home from the weekend and cried, letting go of the emotions that I had held in throughout the weekend. I cried out because their father chose to leave. He didn't pass away which in itself is heartbreaking because its so frequent, but in death, he didn't leave because he wanted to. It was out of his control. However Rose's* father chose to say that my family is not worth it. Inadvertently he said that his children were not important enough to him to stick around to watch them grow up. I think of my own dad and what I would do if he weren’t apart of my life. My dad is my hero in every way possible and I can't imagine growing up without him in my life. Rose* said to us that it was hard to grow up without a dad and that was a struggle in her life that she faces. My heart breaks and cries out for her.

When I see parents interacting with their children, for whatever reason, I think that it is different then how I interact with my parents. I think that perhaps the children don't tell their parents how their day was or what is going on in their life. Either because the parents don't want to listen or because the children don't want to share. I don’t know why I had that idea in my head, but it was there. Yet as I watched Rose's* sister come home from a church camp, I saw her walk over to her mother, kneel down beside her and talk to her about her weekend. It was beautiful to see the relationship between the girls and their mom. The love that is in that family is so tangible. I could feel it and I was only there for one weekend. The family has a seven-month-old baby boy that is the mom's grandson. The mother was cooing and laughing at the baby and the love that she had for him can't be described accurately in words. 

Many girls in our communities face lots of responsibilities at home in taking care of the family, cooking food, cleaning the house etc. Rose* is an example of many girls in the communities. When I watched her cook, clean, take care of her siblings, it wasn't done with an unwilling heart, or with an attitude of grumpiness, but it was done with the willingness of a servant heart. She didn't do all of these things because she was obligated to but because she loved her family and wanted to serve them. When I reflect on my own life, and think about my life back in Canada and the frequent occurrences where I was asked to do something and I grumbled or complained, I feel ashamed. I feel ashamed because although Rose* has little, she works with a willing heart, and yet when I seemingly have more material things, I am quick to complain, grumble, and whine about the things I am asked to do.

It is the selfless giving that continues to astound me. The ability to give of yourself on a daily basis and have the willingness of a humble servant. I desire to have the ability to give of myself and not think twice. I like to think that I have become more hospitable and friendly since arriving in Africa, but when I am around individuals like Rose* and her family, I realize that I have a lot to learn. A lot to learn about myself and about what being hospitable truly means. Jesus is the example that I want to follow. He gave of himself so selflessly, going even as far as to wash his disciples feet, which I am sure were dirty, smelly, and worn. Yet he humbled and lowed himself to the floor to show his disciples an act of kindness and showind them how they are to live their lives. I saw Jesus in this family. I saw Him in the way that they served us, loved on each other, humbled themselves, cared for one another and served their Father. I feel challenged, broken, and encouraged by what I saw and what I learnt. I want to act like Jesus, the selfless giving that He acted upon. 

*names have been changed to protect the identity of the individual