What Gets Me Pumped.

 If I was a better blogger, I would flood you with stories from bus tripping around to different villages and cities these past couple weeks….

…But can‘t do everythin’, ya know??  Instead, I will say that if you are one of those people who can’t help but mumble that this world is sooo getting worse (usually after reading the news, watching an episode of Grey’s Anatomy, or after having to chop onions) like I am…take heart! Because even all the way over here in the Land of "Niger? Do you mean Nigeria?” and in the midst of extreme poverty and suffering, we DO NOT serve an insecure God.

And hott lanta, He is using His children’s lives to change lives in crevices ALL OVER.

After visiting an orphanage, an orthopedic clinic, a leprosy hospital, a fistula surgery center, and different ministries with even more people who are caring for and evangelizing to orphans, widows, strangers, prisoners, the sick, the naked, and the distressed…I can truly report to you that:

The blind receive sight, 
the lame walk, 
those who have leprosy are cured, 
the deaf hear, 
the dead are raised, 
and the good news is preached to the poor. 
Matthew 11:4. 

I have met many servants who are persevering through one sometimes-sucky-sometimes-awesome day at a time to live in a way that proves they believe Jesus has done and is doing everything He said He would do.

They are being obedient, self-controlled, alert, seeking God, picking up their crosses and choosing Him, breathing Life into people with their words and actions, and along the way, they are encouraging their brothers and sisters in Christ to keep their butts in gear.

They are doing the real thang for the real God!!…in Galmi, in Niger, in Africa, in America, for both new and familiar cultures around the world, as we speak!


I love that. Let’s get in on that.

Hanging out in one of the leprosy wards.
(And by "get in on that" I don't mean sprawl across the floor at the last second 
to get into the photo like this man did....though I salute his enthusiasm)

Fear the Blade

I watched many wide eyed children with club feet get carried into a hospital in the big cit-AY of Niamey (land with lettuce and an air conditioned restaurant!) this week.

I was given The Job of helping hold down the shrieking child.  Easier to do when there's not a vibrating saw (that apparently only cuts the cast and doesn't amputate off the limb) coming at their legs! I don’t blame any of the cuties for their attempts to flee because I too would have feared the blade. But dang, kids are fiesty!...and show hulk-ulous strength when they're trying to run for their lives.

Except for one little guy. He hopped right on that bed and started talking to the assistant. I’m assuming he said something like “what up, doc, looks scary…bring it”…but I know like five words in French so just a guess. I’m pretty sure my mouth was hanging open as he not only didn’t scream but sat up, wanting to watch that roaring saw-devil cut off his cast. Who says having a club foot stops you from carrying a cargo full of courage?!  Break me off a piece of that. Thank you Lord that it’s not always our circumstances but our reactions to them that make people’s jaws drop. 

                

I also turned the corner to find faces full of repaired cleft lips! Best smiles I've ever hung out with.

Lots of servant warriors have been going home these past couple weeks...
(Don’t ask if I’ve been emotional about it…we all know the answer to that already).

Remember when you see a missionary coming home broken in body and weary in soul, it isn’t the privations or dangers or things he’s done that leave a deep hurt; it’s the things he couldn’t do that break his heart. 
-“World Shapers”

Only Jesus has all the answers for this culture and my own culture...Don’t forget to listen, encourage, and intercede for all the missionaries right next to you and all the ones overseas, ya saints!

The jelly is out of the doughnut...

...The chickadees have left the nest. We came. We taught. We conquered. ...The students have started summer break.

I’m kind of sad my schoolhouse season is over (at least until God pulls something else out of His sleeve).

When else will I get to say ‘take out a piece of paper and pencil and do whatever I tell you‘ and have someone listen??  I just don't see other schools allowing “Love Bites” or “Joke Pokes”. No more hearing squeals just because I pulled out the paint or watching a kid do the robot over to get his pencil. No more stifling my laughter when the answer to the question of “what are the main dishes of Antartica? is “you know, plates and forks and knives and stuff"?

And kids keep you in check! They ask how to spell “lanta” as in ‘oh my lanta’, and then you try to convince yourself they must know someone else in the world that says that and they're not just repeating you.  Another time, I slid across the floor in my matted flip flops and screamed THAT WAS TOTALLY WICKED (I know, I’m five) and lost the next ten minutes trying to pull the kindergarteners back into their chairs. I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to live in a way that's worthy of imitation anywhere, but kids are good at showing you the horrifying reality of influence.

There are some things you only get from students. I’ll probably go off the deep end or catch the crazy train without them.

But hey, WE MADE ITTTTT!! Students fluttered away and Auntie Barb and I were left with a triumphant one room school house high-five.

this week's daily thrills:

4 year old girl with an Australian accent saying she was here to share Jesus with a people group. Shop owner knowing to hand me a pack of Nescafe aka NesPersonality. Laughing at sleepless night stories after loud crickets mate in the corner of the room. Smiling toothless grannies with smiling toothless babies. Blow pops and church sermons while laying on my bedroom floor. Hearing a mom say she's grateful her kids would be more exposed to the other's lives than the American dream. Taking a short coma and feeling refreshed. When kids drop their backpacks outside and then run inside to school. God surprising me through Bible verses. Little eyes at my door asking for Kool-Aid. Receiving a super hero shirt from my Partner in Crime. Seven year old’s dance moves in his pulled-up-high argyle socks. Sitting on Nigerien nurse friends' laps in laughter. Having enough ice to make a snowman after defrosting my freezer. Prayer battle partners. Eye contact with Auntie Barb over hilarious students. Rahamatu's daughter. Tearful goodbyes. Patients beckoning you over to pray for them. Not losing my patience. Kids with loose teeth. Kids in bandages smiling at you. My oven not lighting so I don’t have to bake. The Holy Spirit speaking encouragement. Sticky fingers in awe of your white face. Funny emails about bird attacks. Benefiting from other people's spiritual gifts. Walking through the hospital at night. My neighbor being so blunt it tickles me with delight. Spirit-filled dreams. Skype dates in the wee hours of the morning. Sitting on mats next to skinny toddlers and friendly mothers. Sprinting to catch an afternoon squeeze. Writing "whatever" on my dusty table after a wind storm. Getting handed someone's beautiful brown-skinned baby. Making a fist to say thank you. Girls carrying bowls on their heads and yelling my name on the street. Surrendering. Not waking up in the middle of the night. Wrapping my skirt right. "Being bold means not pretending”.


Sometimes "the problem with life is that it's so daily".

But we forget that Your love is better than life. Psalm 63:3.

Football's always familiar?

Five of us watched the UEFA championship soccer game in Galmi town last night.

Felt like watching Bears games with my brothers except with darker skinned and sweatier boys (the heat added to the intensity of the game watching, I think)….and it was football not American football…no couch either, more mats and a bench.…and there was no coke and munchies just my water bottle…and I didn’t get in trouble for talking because no one understood me…and the reception was more twitchy…and we were outdoors…and I wasn't wearing pants...

Practically the same thing. 

I also realized that boys from every tribe, tongue, and nation take off their shirts in sport-watching victory...why is that?!

Just for the record...

Update: I am still very much in love with my house helper. Once again, I came home to her singing as she worked in this rich, white girl’s house.

I can’t wait for the switch in heaven, where I visit her in her mansion with millions of treasures. The treasures she stored up while being on earth and singing as she worked, doing things no one asked her to do, thanking people even though she was serving them, and always looking past the mundane and at Jesus.

Not to mention, she swept out the hairy SpiderBeast I had trapped under a bucket, stacked with books on top for extra safety (because I swear the spiders here can move buckets!!). The adrenaline rush had worn off after the capture and, in fear, I had left him for days.
...If that doesn’t get you a million treasures in heaven, I don’t know what does.

Provide purses for yourselves that will not wear out, a treasure in heaven that will not be exhausted...  Luke 12:33