Life in Africa

nine years

Nine years ago, this past Saturday, I arrived in South Africa. Hopeful. Excited. Passionate. If I am to be honest, also a little scared. Intimidated. Unsure.

I knew I was called to Africa, but that was possibly all that I knew. I didn't know what I should be doing. Or what my specific "calling" was. Or what it would all look like. I just followed. "Here I am, Lord. Send me."

Niel and I have been reminiscing back to our "early days" a lot lately. Things have changed so much in the past nine years. I have changed so much. I still feel like I don't know what I'm doing and I still wonder what it all will look like. And while I don't fully grasp my "calling" -- that which I was born to do -- I know I am walking in it.

In many ways, I feel light-years beyond that young girl who stepped off the plane nine years ago. Yet in many ways, I am still the same. If I'm honest, I'm still a little scared. Intimidated. Unsure. Scared of messing up, of missing the mark, of not being or doing all I'm supposed to. Intimidated by responsibility, by the demands of a growing staff, by the unfinished task. Unsure of myself, of how to do all I must, of what the future will hold.

But I'm also still hopeful. Excited. Passionate. Hopeful that the mark I leave in Africa will change it for the better, that the lives we touch will transform this nation, that our work will truly turn the tide of the AIDS pandemic. Excited by all that has been accomplished, by the lives we have seen changed by the Word of God, by what lies ahead. Passionate about the potential in the African people, about seeing the nations come to Christ, about Africa...

Nine years. And yet just the beginning...

breathless but strengthened

Our intern housing, common area, and classroom are up the hill from our main complex area (where our staff housing and offices are). The walk up the hill always gets me way out of breath, and today was no exception. I like to blame it on the altitude. (Our main complex area is over a mile above sea level--higher than Denver!) It has nothing to do with the fact I'm out of shape. Nothing!

I caught my breath and started teaching my first Introduction to World Missions class. I normally start teaching in January, but with Niel and I being in the States in February and March, I put off starting my classes until the second term (which started this week). And since we didn't have interns last year, this was my first intern class since November 2005. I didn't realize how much I missed it until I was doing it...

With 11 students, discussion came naturally and easily, and was a breath of fresh air. Time went by quickly and before I knew it, I was walking back down the hill to my office.

During my walk down, I was reminded of our staff meeting. This week, we began a series about playing to your strengths (Trombone Player Wanted). It is unique and innovative, and profoundly insightful. My biggest "light bulb moment" was hearing that, contrary to popular belief, our strengths are not necessarily what we are good at. Our strengths are those activities that make us feel strong. That definition largely changes my perspective on things. I can now determine my strengths by those things which strengthen and energize me, which I look forward to, and which naturally hold my interest.

Teaching my missions class, I realized today, is a strength of mine. I went up the hill feeling breathless and came down feeling strengthened...

do the math

It's starting to get cold. I've already had to swap the lightweight blanket on our bed for a down comforter. It's actually supposed to get down to 45 tonight -- and without indoor heating, the temperature inside our house won't be much higher than that.

But even while my senses know that winter is approaching, sometimes my mind still glitches.

The other night I saw a commercial on TV advertising a women's magazine. While the cover of the magazine filled the screen, with its bold headline: "Autumn Fashions", the announcer informed me that "the April issue is now on sale." I did a double-take to make sure my eyes and ears weren't tricking me. Surely, there must be a mistake. And then I remembered! And chuckled.

No matter how long I live in the southern hemisphere, April will always equal Spring.

two weeks of singleness

Niel will be home tomorrow night. I'm getting excited about it and am so glad that we have a long weekend off work right after he gets back.

As much as I'm looking forward to having Niel back, I've enjoyed the past 2 weeks that I've been home alone. I often hesitate to say things like that as I can already hear people gasping. No, it doesn't mean I don't miss Niel. No, it doesn't mean I'm a cold, calloused person. No, it doesn't mean I'm glad he's far away. It simply means my life doesn't fall to pieces when he is.

In spite of the fact that I miss my husband, there is a joy in my time alone. I do things I normally can't do. Like work until 8:00 (or 10:00!) at night. And watch 7 Judging Amy episodes in a row. And not have to think about feeding someone other than myself (which doesn't take much thought besides, "Should I bother to make a sandwich, or should I just eat cereal?")

As always when I'm by myself, I create lists (some mental, some typed, some scribbled by hand) of the plethora of things I intend to get done by the time Niel returns. And, as always, my lists far outweigh my time available. Once again, I won't have finished everything I wanted to by tomorrow night. But I've gotten quite a bit done, and at this point I'm just eager to have my hombre home!

My two weeks of singleness is coming to an end, and I'm ready to be a married woman again!

oh dear

After being at the retreat in Cape Town for just a few hours, I already felt like I'd received so much. It was amazingly refreshing to connect with a new sisterhood of women who "get my life" and understand the complexities of the challenges I face. That alone made this weekend well worth it.

There was a drawing for an "extreme makeover". Along with all the rest of the women, I wrote my name on a small slip of paper and tossed it into the bag. When they drew the winning name from the bag, the woman hesitated as if trying to read it correctly. "Alice..." she said, and then paused. "Oh dear," I mumbled, and Rebecca looked at me with a confused look on her face as if to say, "What?! That's not you." Then the woman finished reading the paper: "van Rensburg". Rececca just started laughing! "Oh dear" is right! When I wrote my name down on that paper, never did I imagine that I'd actually get picked!

My mind immediately said, "I don't deserve this". I began thinking that it should have gone to someone who wants it more, someone who lives in a far more remote place than I, someone more deserving for any other number of reasons. With all eyes on me, and everyone cheering and clapping, I smiled and shrank back in my seat. I figured if I was thinking that I'm not deserving of this gift, that surely everyone else was thinking the same.

As time went on, though, I quickly saw that people weren't thinking that. I was often greeted with, "You're the lucky winner!" or "It's so exciting that you won!". The other missionaries were genuinely happy for me. Although I still felt a tinge of guilt every time someone said something about it, I learned to just respond in humility and gratefulness.

While my mind was telling me that I didn't deserve to receive this amazing blessing, my heart sang another tune. In one of the sessions, it was stressed that regardless of our area of service or level of difficulty in our living conditions, we stand on a level playing field. We are daughters of the King and He delights in us. God delights in me. It was an internal struggle, but I received this gift as coming straight from my Daddy God.

I was pampered with a full body massage, pedicure, color analysis, make-up artistry, and hair style. It was such a fun, special, and memorable day. I was overwhelmed by the women who came to serve us. To think that they raised funds, traveled so far, and humbled themselves so much for me, whom they'd never even met, left me awed and deeply humbled. Ministry board members painting my toenails?! Unbelievable. These women are my heroes.

The entire retreat was just what I needed. At first my natural perspective told me that so many of the other women present needed it more (because of their length of time on the field, the years since they've been home, or the primitive conditions in which they live and serve), but I quickly realized how much I needed it too. Although my challenges may be very different from some, I was still at a place where the physical, emotional, and spiritual "filling up" at this retreat was exactly what I needed. It's as though you don't know how dry you are until you start soaking up, soaking up, soaking up...

I was strengthened and encouraged by the messages and our small group discussion and prayer times. I was uplifted and blessed by the women I got to know and relationships I got to build. I was humbled and validated by the women who came to serve me. I was energized and challenged by discussions I had with wise women about how to handle some of the challenges I'm facing in our ministry. I was renewed and refreshed by lots of laughter and fun times with Rebecca, my friend who went with me.

Strengthened. Encouraged. Uplifted. Blessed. Humbled. Validated. Energized. Challenged. Renewed. Refreshed. Yeah, that about sums up my weekend!