After spending fifteen days in the poverty-stricken country of Ethiopia, something feels incredibly appropriate about the thought of living in one small room for the next four years of my life.
God is clever like that.

Culture Shock

They told me to prepare to deal with some culture shock when I entered Africa. And naturally, the culture was rather overwhelming at first. Streets lined with hungry children and devastated mothers cried out to my heart. Unsanitary water, no plumbing, no front doors, dirt floors and tin roofs. Slaughtered goat heads scattered the street corners: "what do your dogs eat?" they continually asked us when we cringed at the sight of them. Being the only white people in a city of several hundred thousand caused quite a stir. Wanting so badly to understand what the little boy was trying to tell me, and finally accepting that I didn't recognize any of those Amharic words -- so I smile and I nod, defeated by the language barrier. Finding no salt or pepper at meal time, but only a jar of chili powder -- the Ethiopian staple. One loaf of bread costs one Ethiopian Birr. Conversion -- 5.8 cents.

It was a totally different culture. And it was, indeed, shocking.
But the thing is, I expected it.
I expected the poverty and the language barrier and the different food.
So, after a few days, I was naturally able to accept it and become quite content with my new little world in Africa.

In Ethiopia, I experienced a bit of culture shock.
But there was another country where it hit me like a ton of bricks.

Upon re-entering America on August 9th, 2011, nothing made sense to me.
Why is this airport so cold?
Where are these people in such a hurry to be?
Why are they so rude?
Why is everything so expensive?

With each new place I went, building I entered, or city I drove through, new questions, emotions, and heaviness fell upon my heart.

"Here is $200 for allowing us to park our car here in Chicago for two weeks."
Two-hundred dollars...
That's 3,400 Ethiopian Birr
That could buy someone a horse to make a living,
Pay for two year's worth of rent,
Send 17 kids to school.

"This air is so clean. So fresh. It's incredible."

Stop at rest stop. Wash hands five times. Smell them.
They smell clean.
They haven't smelled clean in two weeks.
Dry them with air that blows right out of the wall.
What kind of insane contraption is this?

"Why are these streets so bare?
Where are all the children?
Why aren't they playing soccer?"

When I actually arrived at home sweet home,
I opened our solid wood door,
entered the cool, air-conditioned space,
walked across the soft, carpeted floor,
and collapsed onto the ever-comforting sofa.

It was then that I looked up,
soaked in my surroundings,
and with tears streaming down my cheeks
uttered to my mom,

"We live in a mansion."

It took me a few days to be able to shower without crying through it.
The clean, warm water fell over me with the perfect amount of pressure to wash off the exfoliating mango body soap with moisturizing beads, and every child's face flashed through my head, as I realized that they would probably never experience what I was doing right then.

A clean shower.
A comfortable home.
Fresh air.
Soap.
Transportation.

May I never take a single thing for granted again.
May this culture shock never quite wear off.
For I -- a middle class American -- am rich.
Filthy rich.
And chances are, you are too.

"Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”  Matthew 19:24

God help us.

Fraol

Pronounced: Fra-wool
Age:11
Grade:2

What could I possibly say that would be able to fully express the story of this sweet blessing of a child? Do know that this blog post will not do his circumstances justice. This is only a mere attempt to bring a glimpse of Ethiopia to America. May your heart be moved.

Froal lives in a small little shack with his young, beautiful mother. He is an only child. When I say "small little shack," I mean what I say. This was the smallest home I had seen in all of Ethiopia. I would say his entire home is the size of my bathrooom. Now, I acknowledge that you may have never been in my bathroom. But, it can be assumed that it is normal bathroom size. One shower, one sink, one toilet. Nothing extra. Nothing excessive. So, we're talking about a small place. If you sat on the floor up against one wall and I sat on the floor up against the opposite wall, our knees would touch. Froal's mother owns a bed and a small stand.

When Froal was three years old, his father died, serving as a police officer. Froal's mother did not find out until it was too late that her husband was HIV positive. Consequently, Froal and his mother are both now living HIV positive as well. While there is medicine available for this disease, it comes with some conditions. Due to the severe side affects of the medication, Froal's mother chooses not to take it. The treatment works similarly to chemotherapy, in that it makes you sicker before it makes you better. Froal's mother feels it is her job to raise and take care of her son, and she can not afford to be sick. Froal does take medicine for his HIV, but it is necessary that he take it daily with milk. Milk can often be very expensive, and it is hard for Froal's mother to keep up on it. His mother works part time in the fall at a seasonal shop. But, for the summer, she is unemployed.

The home Froal and his mother were living in during our visit was provided for them by the Ethiopian government. It was a benefit of his father being employed as a police officer. But, as we were talking with the family, his mother shared with us that since her husband had been gone for 10 years now, the government was deciding to take their home away. They anticipated that they would lose their house within the next week, having nowhere else to go and no family to live with. Their situation was severe and uncertain.

There's one more thing about Froal. He doesn't know that he is HIV positive. When talking with him, his social worker refered to him as "a patient." His mother has chosen not to tell him about his illness yet. He knows that he takes medicine every morning and that sometimes he feels sick. But, he does not know the reason for either of these things. Froal's mother keeps his illness from him because she wants him to be able to live a normal life for as long as possible. Often, when a child knows he or she is infected with HIV, he/she becomes embarrased, ashamed, and anti-social. The child may withdraw from his friends and become as secluded as possible. Froal mother did not want this for her precious son. So, at this point, he is still unaware.

This family was a joy to spend time with. In their little house they made us spiced tea from wild herbs and served us the little bread they had. Froal blew bubbles out the door to the neighbor kids who stuck their little heads in, curiously. When we gave him a letter from a child in American who had written to a child in Ethiopia, he was thrilled. As soon as the letter was translated, he found some paper so he could write a letter back. He was filled with questions and curiousity about the boy in America who had written to HIM. He wanted to know everything about him. What is his favorite color? What is his favorite game, favorite subject in school? What does he want to be when he grows up? Fraol wants to be a doctor so he can help people in Ethiopia who are sick. This tends to be a common aspiration among the Ethiopian children.
Before we departed, we prayed, as was a common part of our home visits. We prayed for the health of both Fraol and his mother. We prayed for their finances, living environment, and food. And in faith, we know that God will provide. As I left Fraol's home, I hugged him and his mother, knowing that the experience I just had would forever change me.

Walking down the poverty-stricken Ethiopian streets moments later, tears welled up in my eyes for the first time since I had entered the country. In that moment, it was becoming so real. Fraol's mother probably won't live more than a few more years. They don't have anywhere to live. They pray to God to give them food for the next day. That was a rough one. Yes, that one indeed....was rough.

With some of the donated money we received for our trip, we were able to provide one year's worth of milk for Fraol, and three months worth of rent for a new home until his mother can continue her employment in the fall. We thank God for the opporunity to bless this family. If you are interested in sponsoring Fraol or any of the other children in the BCI program, you can contact me for more information, or visit http://www.blessingthechildren.org/

God bless you.

Natnael

Pronounced: not-nay-el

Age: 5

Nickname: Nati

My family and I are huge supporters of Compassion International, a child sponsorship program that helps provide basic needs for impoverished children all over the world. Being blessing with some extra money this year, I decided I wanted to sponsor a child. So, over the summer, at Cornerstone Festival, I began looking through the Compassion child packets, seeing if any of them caught my eye. I didn't really come across the age/gender child I was looking for, so I chose to wait and sponsor a child through Compassion online. But quickly, my summer turned into an insane mess of busyness, and I found no time at all to sit down and make such a serious commitment. Then, I found myself in Africa. This, of course, was God's perfect plan working itself out the entire time.

God had a child for me in Ethiopia. God had a perfect plan for me to meet, fall in love with, and choose to sponsor this specific child. So here is his story:

Nati was born in Addis Ababa, the capital of Ethiopia. When he was four years old, both of his parents died, leaving him orphaned. Friends or servants of the family took Nati and put him on a bus, sending him an hour away to Debre Zeit, the city we were staying in. Apparently somewhere in this city of thousands of people, Nati's uncle lived. His uncle had no word of him coming and Nati had no idea how to find him. When Blessing the Children (BCI) found Nati, he was on the streets crying and starving. It is estimated that he had been in Debre Zeit 20 days before he was found. Upon finding him, BCI took Nati to a medical clinic to have him looked at. This is when it was discovered that Nati has a heart condition. "Heart condition." That is simply all anyone knows. There is no money available to take Nati to the hospital in Addis Ababa to have something diagnosed. When I saw Nati, it was very clear that he was ill.

Nati now lives in a small, one-room home with his uncle, aunt, and baby cousin in Debre Zeit. They have a dirt floor and one bed for the four of them. They also have a bench. When I first met Nati, he was sitting on the bench in his house, kicking his feet back and forth, stuffing some sort of food into his mouth. He looked hungry. Also, upon arrival, it became clear that there was something wrong with Nati's uncle. His eyes were crossed and he didn't seem to be fully present. Our social worker eventually told us that Nati's uncle has a "mind like a child." In America, we would call that mentally handicapped.

Nati was very quiet at first, just staring at us...strange white people handing him candy and speaking in a foreign language. Eventually, though, he opened up and started giggling and smiling. Then, my sister, Lindsey, asked him to come sit on her lap. It was then that I knew this boy would be mine. As he got up to walk over to my sister, putting one foot in front of the other, he almost fell down, losing his balance. He shuffled and limped the rest of the way over. Nati can barely walk.

I asked Tigist, his social worker, what was wrong. She said it was part of his heart problem. She had Nati come to her and take off his shirt. I then saw something that may be very serious. His chest is deformed. Part of it bulges out, while another part sinks in. It is as if part of his heart is much closer to the outside of his body than it should be. It is something that, in America, we would not go one day without heading straight to a hospital to get some care. It is something that Nati has lived with his entire life. It is something that no one really knows the severity of.

Nati can't run at all. He tries, but it turns into something like a limp/gallop/trip. He knows he doesn't fit in and can't keep up with the other kids. As a result, he isolates himself, playing alone, eating alone, sitting alone. He knows he is different. He knows that putting himself with other children will only hurt him.

And the last thing about Nati; perhaps the most heartbreaking of all: Nati's aunt and uncle don't agree about keeping and caring for him. His uncle, his blood relative, cares for Nati to the best of his ability. His aunt doesn't feel the same. She feels the burden of Nati's health. Tigist told us that Nati's aunt and uncle constantly argue and disagree about keeping and caring for him. They do this in front of Nati. It is just a terribly heartbreaking part of this little boy's life.

So there he is. My sponsor child. As soon as I returned home I got online and set up my sponsorship through BCI. With my support, Nati will be fed, sheltered, clothed, and educated. He will also be actively involved in his local church and be able to attend school for free.

                           His name is Natnael. And he is mine.

It costs $30 a month to individually sponsor a child. A full child sponsorship is $90 a month. That way, each child has the possibilty of having up to three sponsors. These sponsors receive letters and pictures from their child and have the opporunity to send letters, picturres, and care packages. Hopefully, through my relationship with Nati, he will be able to receive better medical care and an overall better life. And most of all, he will connected with people who are eager to share the love of Jesus Christ with him. I can't wait to get to know this little boy!

Nati still needs two more sponsors in order to be fully supported. This would provide him with even more healthcare, food, etc. I witnessed firsthand that a little money goes a long way in Ethiopia, as the exchange rate is 17 Ethiopian Birr to 1 US Dollar.

If you are interested in sponsoring Nati or any of the other children in the BCI program with similar, different, and equally heartbreaking stories, please get in touch with me. I would love to talk to you and give you more information. Or, you can visit http://www.blessingthechildren.org/ for more information.
If you would like to sponsor a child through our loving partners at Compassion, visit http://www.compassion.com/


 “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world.  For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’
 “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.  Matthew 25:34-40

Fekerite

Pronounced: Fa-keer-ta
Age: 16
Grade: 3

For me, Fekerite's story begins two years ago, when I decided to take sign language as my homeschool elective. I didn't know anyone who was deaf or even knew sign language. I was just tired of trying to learn spanish and thought sign language could be a fun alternative. So I taught myself for the last two years of high school. I really grew to love it and started learning more in my free time. Signing became something I had a passion for. But still, I had never signed with another person, besides my mother who was trying to learn with me. I just knew that there was a reason I was learning it and that God was going to use it in my life somehow at some time. Until then, I was patiently submitting to learning as much as I could.

Now, skip ahead to my trip to Ethiopia.

Upon arrival, I was telling Danielle, a member of our team, about my signing and about how I had never met a deaf person. With interest, she mentioned that there was a deaf girl in the BCI orphanage. (BCI is the organization we were working with in Ethiopia) I immediately got excited, and then Danielle said, "But I doubt she knows sign language, and even if she did, it wouldn't be American Sign Language like you know."
I then asked a BCI social worker about her, who agreed that the chances she knew American Sign Language were very slim.

With small hopes, I visited the orphanage the following day and found this "deaf girl."
She seemed to be on her own, a lonely, quiet type, keeping to herself.
I walked up to her, formed my hands into the correct shapes, and made the sign for "name."
She looked at my eyes, smiled, and made the sign for "Fekerite."

And my heart filled with joy.

So Fekerite and I sat down that day and talked and talked. She told me how she enjoyed school and church and her younger brother, Teddy, was in the orphanage as well. She told me none of her friends at the orphanage knew sign language. Not even her brother or the adults knew it. No one knew it. She told me about how she sits and watches the kids talk and play and have fun, and she can't follow any of it, so she just stares in boredom and frustration. She told me how glad she was that I had come and talked to her.

I told her she was the first deaf person I had ever signed with.
She thought that was pretty cool.
I thought God was pretty cool.

So I spent a lot of my time in Africa getting to know this girl, connecting with her, and loving on her. But that's not even the best part. That's not even the point. The point is this:

That's a picture of my new friend and I talking. But do you see the rest of the picture? See all those kids sitting around the table staring at us? Those are orphans; the kids who live with Fekerite. They're staring at us as if they've never seen anyone speak in sign language before. Well, I quickly realizes that they never had seen anyone speak in sign language before! There is no deaf culture or deaf awareness in Ethiopia. There is no education on the deaf society. Fekerite was probably the only deaf person they had ever met, just like me. So these beautiful children had no idea that the motions Fekerite had been making with her hands her whole life actually made up a language. They didn't know it was actually a way of communicating, until they saw someone else come in and do it too. And they were enthralled.
The next day I went back to the orphanage to hang out with Fekerite. Now, do you see the girl in the far left of the picture, wearing the green shirt? Her name is Beza and she is 15 years old. When I walked into the orphanage the next day, Beza walked up to me and excitedly showed me the signs Fekerite had taught her the previous night. She was learning. She wanted to learn. I was so EXCITED.

And by the end of the week, I was talking to Fekerite about teaching more of the kids, and another girl had already started learning. I am going to send a sign language book to the orphanage so they can all learn together.

God is so good, my friend. And he shows up in totally unexpected ways. If for nothing else, THAT is why I learned sign language. And if for nothing else, THAT is why God sent me to Ethiopia; to introduce this beautiful language to lovely orphans who only needed to see in order to want to reach out to their silent sister.

The point wasn't that I got to spend two weeks using my sign language skills with a lonely, deaf girl in Africa. Although that was an incredible experience. The point was that Fekerite will soon be communicating and laughing and playing with the kids she's lived with for years.

Never take your eyes off of God.
Always follow his direction,
even when you don't understand it.
Never doubt his plan.

Because he has a plan.
Boy, does he have a plan.

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose." Romans 8:28

Wuha

Pronounced: woo-haw
Language: Amharic
Translation: Water
Defintion: a transparent, odorless, tasteless liquid; a compound of hydrogen and oxygen, H2O, freezing at  0°C and boiling at 100°C, that in a more or less impure state constitutes rain, oceans, lakes, rivers, etc.

I don't think I've ever thought more about water in my life than I did during those two weeks I spent in Ethiopia.
Clean water.
It seems like such a simple thing to us
One of those things that just comes along with life
Complementary clean water

I never even realized how much I loved water
Until I had to put forth effort to obtain it

I never realized how much water I use everyday
Or how quickly one can dehydrate
When water takes time, money, and effort
to become drinkable.

Rule #1 for missionaries in Africa:
Do not drink the water from the tap,
Either boil it for at least 15 minutes
or drink bottled water.

That means we have to check our water bottle supply everyday and make sure we're not running low. We have to make sure we don't empty the bottle if someone else in the house hasn't filled up their personal bottle yet. If we want oatmeal in the morning, we have to get up early and boil the water. If we want to cook pasta or rice at night (which is pretty much all we had to cook) we have to start dinner quite earlier than usual, to allow time to boil water. When we wash dishes after dinner, we have to boil more water so we aren't using bacteria-filled water to sanitize with. Don't accidentally use the faucet to brush your teeth; you could get very sick. Be sure to always keep bottled water stocked in the bathroom for that purpose. And try to stay on top of the disinfecting wipes/hand sanitizer supply if you actually want your hands to be clean after you wash them. Refill your water bottle (as long as there is enough water stocked in the house to do so) everyday before you leave the house, because there will be nowhere else to get drinkable water throughout the day. And after you shower, just put some deodorant on and let it be, because you may never quite be sure if you smell better or worse after a shower, due to the stench of the water.

And the crazy thing is, the Ethiopians feel more than blessed to have this water available to them. For there are places near them who do not have access to even that.

So, how was Africa?

Incredible
exciting
overwhelming
heart-breaking
devastating
encouraging
refreshing
exhausting
dirty
eye-opening
lovely
beautiful
life-changing
the hardest thing I've ever done
the most amazing thing I've ever done.

You all keep asking me this question, as if I can give you a couple of sentences and completely sum up everything I saw, felt, experienced, and learned. Don't worry, I'll answer you. It just might take a while. Keep an eye on my blog, I'll be posting Africa stories one by one. But while you're waiting for that, soak this up: Thank you. Thank you so much for getting me there. Whether you donated money or toys or clothes or prayer support or just gave me a hug or a word of encouragement, thank you. Because it was by God's grace, through all of your support that I was able to go to that incredible country. So thanks for that. Yeah...thanks.