Sequestered Flights.

As I left for Africa, I had quite a few hiccups along the way. At the airport, they would not check my bags all the way to Johannesburg since I only had a one-way ticket and could not prove I wasn’t staying in the South Africa.

I was warned this would happen... but hoped my papers inviting me to Mozambique would suffice.

They didn’t.

So, I was forced to buy a ticket back to the States.  
     --Yada yada yada.

I was not pleased, of course, because it was very expensive. But the greying woman at the American Airline’s counter assured me that it was refundable. So I bought it and was on my way.

(However, now that I’ve tried to get it reimbursed they are saying it’s not refundable! Please pray for it to work out. I would hate to have spent all this money only to be penalized. Thanks.)

Once my bags were checked-in, I was surprised to learn that my friend who purchased my one-way flight with her frequent flyer miles got me a first class ticket!

First class has seriously improved in the last 15 yrs.

They give you pajamas, a toiletry kit, and excellent food. But more than that, the seats go completely flat. It’s wonderful!
    ---Thank you BH for your generosity. I felt very spoiled.

But I get ahead of myself...

Even before I left Vegas, I learned that JFK was part of the sequestered airports and everything was delayed.

Hours.

I was able to get on a flight to Dallas instead which promised to get me to London in ample time for my connection. 

Once in London, however, I was too exhausted to think about touring the city (like I’d intended). But fortunately, my first class status granted me access to the British Airway waiting lounge.

Whoopie!

Having more than 8 hours to waste, I sauntered slowly through to the plush couches and all-you-can eat-drink-and-nibble-on buffet that makes up the lap of luxury called the First Class lounge.
       --Oh! Where to sit! Oh! What to eat first!

I slept the first two hours on a boxed-shape couch with my suitcase as a pillow. Who knows, I may have even snored.

But did I care?

No.

When you are that tired... you find a way to sleep standing if necessary. Fortunately, things did not come to that.

I woke hungry and ate, then opened my book.

A few hours later when I could not read another page, I looked up to find the room filled with weary and worn travelers.

My sleep-deprived state had blurred them previously and miraculously muffled their sound.

There were easily several hundred people milling around like zombies.

Men in pressed suits sipped gin and tonics while checking messages on their phone; women in smart pumps riffled through their bags in search for hand lotion; and the odd kid that appeared, sat quietly engrossed in the latest video game.

Sadly, like me, few stopped to look up.

After a while of watching, I moved places to see if I could meet someone. I had been asking God for divine appointments and frankly, I wanted to tell someone an STS story if I could.

I’d been practicing.

Not long afterwards a Canadian about my age sat down next to me. We talked and swapped stories for a short time, but before I could fit in an STS story, she had to run off. Her flight was due to depart.

But before she left, we exchanged business cards as she eagerly asked to keep in touch. Hopefully, I’ll get another chance soon.

Once she left, I looked to my left. There sat a kind-faced man in his forties working on his computer. Emails. I think.

We started talking and immediately fell in to the deep things of God. Using what I had learned in the STS workshop, I shared a quick story about Nicodemus, jumping to the fact that ‘God did not send His son into the world to condemn the world, but through Him might be saved’ (John 3:17).

As I was about to move on, the man stopped me and said, “Wait. Don’t go on. I must think about this first... that is a powerful statement.”

It looked as if he had never heard that verse before, despite his Easter and Christmas attendance in church.

We eventually continued talking about what it was to have head knowledge of God, rather than heart knowledge. Delightful. We could have easily continued a long while, but soon he too had to catch his flight.

But he left reluctantly saying, “I will remember what you’ve said and seriously consider these words. Thank you for them.” Then he was off.

Lord, may he come to know you today. Open his heart to receive you. Thank you for providing the opportunity.

Soon afterward, it was time for me to go as well. My last flight was equally comfortable --more pajamas, even better food, and an attendant who turned down my bed for me.
     --Seriously! De-Lux!
 
But once I landed in Johannesburg, I quickly figured out that my bags were nowhere to be found. I suspect they went to The Big Apple without me. Fortunately, they arrived safely a day later.

To be honest, coming here felt like falling into a black hole. I lost all track of time. I gained a day... but lost three.

Jet lag has been tolerable. It helps considerably that I’m NOT traveling to Mozambique right away (more about that later). Currently, I’m staying at the Calvary Chapel Johannesburg guest house.

It’s a refreshing and beautiful spot with even more refreshing and beautiful people. Thank you CCJ for your hospitality and love. I’m so glad I’m here!

I’ll stop there for now... I hope I have not bored you with the minutia of my life. But I thought you’d all like to know I’m well. Oh! and please please pray I get my ticket reimbursed soon. Thanks.

Spinning Plates. Juggling Chainsaws.

My last month --despite every possible precaution against it-- has been a blur of spinning plates and juggling chainsaws.

Okay. Maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. Please note...the chainsaws were not running at the time.

“What does a month of spinning plates and juggling chainsaws look like?” you ask.

Great question. 

Let’s see... when I got back from Haiti, I hit the ground running.

The winners of the MGC!

Early the next morning, the Second Annual Missionary Golf Cup was underway in Mesquite. This fundraiser drew out twenty-eight golf and missions enthusiasts to hit balls and support the work in Moz. We were able to raise quite a lot.
    --Thank you for all those who attended.

The following day was Easter --a delightful and most incredible time of remembrance. At church, we celebrated with a fish fry and potluck.
    -- Yum!

Afterward I spent a week and a half hosting and being hosted as I entertained a dear missionary friend and then caught up with my family in Chicago.

Yep. You read that right. I spent a weekend in Shy-Town hoping that my sister would deliver the bambinos in her belly.

Yep. Bambinos. She was expecting twins!

My newest niece and nephew!

But alas, she did not deliver while I was there despite our natural induction attempts and lots of prayer. Nevertheless, it was great to be there during this exciting time.

(I’m happy to announce that she delivered the following week to our family’s delight. Welcome babies T and E. I sure do love you and can’t wait to meet you.)

The day I got back, I spoke at Calvary Chapel Meadow Mesa in Las Vegas. Although I was invited to speak, it was God who did all the speaking... to me.

What a wonderful whirlwind of emotion and clear anointing. What a blessing being a part of such a move of His Spirit! But more than anything, I just flat out needed that fresh touch from the Lord... as I was starting to wane.

“Then what?” you ask. 

Well... that’s when the plate spinning got a little faster, and more chainsaws hit the skies.

Bright and early the next morning, the Simply the Story workshop began.

STS leaders before the workshop.

This workshop took a week and a half of my life. Twelve hour days, stacked end to end for eight days straight left me blessed, but also very spent. It took another two days to recover.
    ---But WOW was it worth it!

When we started, I had no idea the joys and spiritual blessings God had in store.
   --What a ride! What an exhausting but thrilling ride!

At that point, I had just three days to say goodbye to all (aka: attend a funeral, a wedding, and a going-away party) and re-pack my bags.

Packing was easy compared to all the goodbyes.

Never before have I wept so much at my going. Never before have I longed so much to cling to those that stayed.
    --Truly, I love you all so very much!

And that is how my month was spent.

To those who prayed, Thank You! Believe me when I tell you I felt your prayers and so desperately needed them.

Moreover, I’m happy to announce that no chainsaws were destroyed in the making of this month... and only a few plates hit the ground.

Ooh-PA!

Labor of Love: April 2013

   Labor of Love April 2013

Port au Prince in Color ~

Here are a few more pictures of my time in Haiti. It was hard not taking pictures; the colors and life that is lived out loud in the streets there is such a symphony of wonder.

Enjoy!

Port au Prince in Black & White

I took these pictures of Haiti over a couple of days. The movement, the noise, and the overwhelming need resonates with my soul.

Enjoy!

Montagne Noire

 

Part of the reason this trip to Haiti was so great was I had the joy of seeing a new side of Port au Prince with my dear friends Esther and Matt.

Esther is beautifully pregnant and though we had hoped she’d go into labor while I was there, none of us seemed too intent on pushing things prematurely.

So on our last full day together instead of inducing her, we went for a hike. Esther is the only mama-to-be I know who goes hiking at term. She’s incredible.

They took me to Montange Noire, one of the last remaining forests in the country which is located just north of PAP. The hike was scenic, serene, and full of happy memories for me.

Enjoy a few pictures for that beautiful day!

Changing our shoes before we got started on the hike.

Can you see all the fun faces beside each tree?

We ran into a cloud on the way down... stunning!

Such a beautiful family! Love you guys!

We had a delicious Haitian picnic lunch brought to us.

Me and Esther on top of Montagne Noire.

Thanks for making my stay in PAP so wonderful Esther and Matt. I loved spending time with you and the kids!

Police Clearances: Part Two

(If you have not read the first part to this entry, please click here to catch up.)

Let’s see. Where was I?
    -- Oh, yeah! Haiti.

A month or so back when God told me to come to Haiti, I argued. Apparently, that is my go-to response with God these days.

Argue. Complain. Do it anyway.

I kept hearing Him say, “You need this police clearance, and you’ll have to go there in person to get it, my child.”
-- “But I don’t want to go... I hated it there,” I whined.
-- “Go back anyway. Trust me.”
-- “But what of the finances? It’ll cost so much.”
-- “I am the God of provision. Remember? I own it all.”
-- “But I don’t have the time... I leave for Mozambique in just a few weeks.”
-- “I am the God of time. Remember? I created it.”
-- “But, Loorrdd. I don’t wanna go...” I persisted.
-- “Why, my child?” He queried.
-- “I don’t know why,” I confessed, “I just don’t.”
-- “Then go. Obedience is not dependent on feelings. Just know that I have much for you there,” He promised.
-- “Yes. Lord.”

Once I stepped out to arrange this trip, God moved on my behalf.
    --As always. As promised.

He provided frequent flyer points to get my tickets. (Thank you BH!)
He made a place for me to stay at no cost. (Thank You B&JM!)
He went before me in every way.

Getting here: The red-eye Saturday night was brutal but happily forgettable. The lay-over in JFK was long but strong coffee and the chirping of wild swallows and grey-breasted song birds in the airport lobby fed my soul, making the hours feel like minutes.

Wrinkled and weary, I landed to find PAP’s airport transformed. Gone were the dusty tarmacs and cramped halls filled with frowning, suspicious faces. Instead live musicians played as stiff-legged travelers wound their way through brightly lit air-conditioned rooms to baggage pick-up. There were well groomed custom officials, duty-free gift shops, and even an escalator!
    --Had I landed in the right country?

My wonder-bubble didn’t last long, however. It popped by the time my bag arrived. The long wait compounded by the frantic press of luggage porters and impatient travelers crowded in close.
    --Yes. I was most assuredly in Haiti.  

I first came to Haiti in 2009 to work with Heartline ministries for three months. Heartline was started 27 years ago by John and Beth McHoul. They have done a number of ministries over the years (orphans, church plant, work projects, etc.) but when I first met them they had just started the birthing clinic.

I love and admire the McHouls so much, not only for their dedication but also for their immense love. Months ago when I told them I needed help with my Haitian police clearance, they immediately started working on it. But they kept hitting the same brick wall as I did; It wouldn’t be possible without coming in person.

So, when I arrived this week John pulled out all the stops and called Rosemine --a Haitian friend and neighbor who works for the national police-- for help.

On Monday morning, Rosemine gathered information on what it would take while John helped me get all the paperwork in order. But we couldn’t do anything else that day... but wait. On Tuesday, Rosemine dressed in her police uniform then met John and I at the Heartline office. It was time to hit the sidewalks and stand in the lines... or so I thought.

Rosemine explained that we needed to first get a paper signed and stamped by the local administrative office. When we arrived, I’m not sure if I drew more interested glances or if she did. She certainly looked the part in her neatly pressed uniform and holstered fire arm. But more than anything, she played the part --jumping the line, talking on my behalf, greeting everyone with a swift hand salute.

Before I knew it we were done. We were in and out of there in less (and I mean less than) 5 minutes.
    --Unheard of!

Smiling in disbelief, we climbed back into John’s truck and bounced our way over to our next destination --the main police department. 

While we rode, I laughed at how quickly we were able to get my paper, but Rosemine just smiled. John laughed with me, explaining that Rosemine had a nickname --Le Cle.
-- “Le Cle?” I asked repeating the word out loud to myself. “Why ‘Le Cle’?”
Despite my French skills, its meaning did not immediately appear to me. Only then did John translate for my benefit.
-- “It means ‘The Key’ in French,” he explained. “She’s our key. She unlocks doors. She’s amazing.”
I couldn’t help but agree wholeheartedly.

Rosemine just smiled wider, enjoying the praise.

The traffic was heavy, so we didn’t get to the main police department until well after noon. I thought for sure we’d have to wait for lunch breaks and such.
    --But I was wrong.

With Rosemine by my side, we had to stop every few feet to greet other well groomed Haitians in uniform. Some also took the time to shake my hand and greet me, but no one asked my name. I felt like I was walking with a superstar.
    -- I now think that I was.

Surprisingly, the line for the police clearance was long. Dozens waited their turn to be fingerprinted in a rickety outdoors “office” comprised of long benches, two lopsided tables, and a weigh scale.

Behind the front table, sat a man with papers --piles and piles of papers. He assured that my papers were in order, had me fill out others, then sent us to the front of the line. It did not occur to me that I was cutting the line until I was casually informed to take off my shoes and stand on a scale.

Another man in a dark uniform then proceeded to weigh me (Yikes! I thought I could fudge that number!), then measure me (I couldn’t remember how many centimeters I was anyway!), then send me to the front of the line. Again.

The fingerprinting was old school --meaning still done with ink and paper-- but the officer doing it was expert. He had me in and out of there quickly. The thing was... there was nothing to clean the ink off my hands.

Afterward, I stood there awkwardly trying not to touch my dress while Rosemine conversed with a bright eyed officer with pristine teeth. He indicated where I could wash up and then we were done --at least for that day.

All in all, we’d been there no more than 20 minutes.

Rosemine took me back to where John waited for us then rushed back inside. She had more officials to talk to, apparently.

The problem was it would take a week for me to get my police clearance. She wanted to see if it could be expedited and was going to ask on my behalf.

It’s hard to say how long she was gone, but when she came back she was smiling.
-- “What happened?” I asked, eager to learn if I could get my paperwork by Friday (when I was scheduled to leave).
-- “Oh... I had to talk to my chiefs. They say you’ll get your police clearance tomorrow,” she explained with a smile.
-- “Tomorrow? Really!? Wow... You really are “Le Cle’”, I teased.
-- Smiling past my excitement, she added “I had to talk to four chiefs. Four of them! Had you been a Haitian, I would have had to only talk to one chief. But since you’re a Blan (White/Foreigner) I had to talk to FOUR of them!”

We all laughed at the complexity of skin color, then headed home. There was nothing left to do that day but wait.

The next morning, we headed back to pick it up. In the back of my mind, I kept wondering what all this expediting would cost. Would I have to pay all these chiefs for their signatures and stamps? No one seemed capable to telling me.

But when we got there, they had the papers ready as promised. We just had to sign for them! It was as simple as that!

Can you believe it? After months and months of waiting, praying, and organizing I can happily announce that I’m on my way to Mozambique!

Thank you all for your prayers. I couldn’t have done it without you, the help of the McHouls, and my new favorite Haitian Key --Rosemine!

Le Cle (aka: Rosemine) and me

Police Clearances: part one

Months ago, October 2012 to be exact, I started working on the necessary paperwork for my Mozambican visa. Optimistically, I thought I’d be able to check these off my list fairly quickly.

I was wrong.   

Oh. So. Very. Wrong.

But then again... perhaps my idea of ‘quickly’ needed to be re-defined. Stretched. Qualified. And well... that’s exactly what happened.

Let me explain.

Some might say (and my mother would be first in line to agree) that I’m a bit on the impatient side. I tend to want things done immediately, regardless of possibility and extenuating circumstances.

This is not helpful when you work in places like Africa... or any place where people are involved rather than robots. But I’m getting off topic. Let me circle back..

My point?
    --Police clearances. 

To tell this story well, I’ll need to start from the beginning.

During my vision tour trip to Mozambique last fall, I was informed that I’d need to prove I was never arrested in any of the countries I worked in as a midwife. That required official police clearances from the States, the Philippines, Haiti, and South Sudan.

When I asked why I needed these papers I was casually informed that Mozambique did not appreciate criminals.
    --Reasonable.

However when I assured them I was no criminal but a missionary instead, the official seemed unimpressed and muttered something to the effect of...

“Well...if you’re not a criminal who has been forbidden to practice midwifery in your country... why then would you be coming here?”
    -- Logical. Sadly logical... and wrong. 

So naturally, once God made it clear I was to return to Mozambique, I took note of this and immediately started work on getting these coveted documents proving my love for the Mozambican people. 

I knew it would not be simple --nothing in developing nations are-- but I was confident it’d at least be possible. The real question was... to what lengths would I need to go to get them?

As it turns out... some pretty serious lengths.

The American police clearance required fingerprinting at the local police department, a check, and a two month wait.
    --Pretty painless.

The Filipino one required, driving to LA, standing in line for hours, getting fingerprinted again on official Filipino paperwork, waiting a day to get that paperwork authenticated, driving around downtown LA endlessly trying to find a bank that could issue me a money order for the Philippines, failing to find this money order, picking up the authenticated fingerprints, mailing them to the Philippines with cash, waiting for two months, nothing arrived, calling the Philippines endlessly trying to figure out what was wrong, learned that my first police clearance got lost in the mail, mailed more cash to the Philippines, finally got it five months later.
    --Relatively stressful. Quite expensive. 

The South Sudanese one promised to be the simplest but in the end was the most challenging in terms of patience. Since there are few embassies for South Sudan and even fewer record systems currently in place in the country, I was informed there was NO WAY I could obtain the needed police clearance outside of the country. The only option was going there myself (which would have been very costly), or having someone from my organization in Tonj do the work on my behalf. My colleagues there are busy and my police clearance didn’t fall high on the list of to-dos. So for months, I waited, stressed, prayed, and then stressed some more. Thankfully last month, my director in S. Sudan was able to get this clearance within hours of trying. And I’m told it’s in the mail. Pray it arrives before I leave for Mozambique!
    --Very stressful. Moderately expensive. On its way still.

The Haitian one has proven to be the most challenging and yet somehow the least stressful for me. I’m not sure why. Despite the various Haitian consulates and embassies in the States, I was quickly informed that it’d be impossible for me to get my police clearance without coming to Haiti in person. The optimistic side of me balked at this. “Surely there had to be a way!” I argued.
    --There wasn’t.

Despite incredibly helpful friends in Haiti and months and months of trying, it finally dawned on me that I’d have to return to this tiny-half-island to get it. Every other option was a closed door.

So, last weekend I boarded a plane and here I sit. I’ve been in country for four days and it’s looking hopeful. I don’t have the time to tell you all the hoops I’ve had to jump through just yet... but I promise I will.

Please, please pray for this afternoon. I am told my clearance should be ready for pick-up. But it’s still undetermined how much it’ll cost. Ha!

More to come...

Labor of Love: March 2013

   Labor of Love March 2013

Video: Mozambican Mission

Labor of Love: February 2013

   Labor of Love February 2013 by  

Labor of Love Booklet

   Labor of Love Booklet by  

Video: The Beautiful and Efficient Anatomy of Pregnancy

In this video Alexander Tsiaras, a mathematician from Yale, speaks about what was seen when they scanned the development of the fetus during birth. It's extraordinary! A must watch. 

Serving as Senders!

There are many out there reading this blog wondering how they might participate in this work. Well, let me assure you there is no lack of opportunity. Perhaps the better question is “How has God gifted you?” and “What is He asking you to do?”

Check out the list below for ideas...

Prayer Maniacs (Prayer Support)
These people feel called to pray for me specifically (spiritual, emotional, physical needs). They are willing to wear holes in their jeans as they lift up the day to day emergencies while on the field. This group moves mountains with faithful intercession. The importance of their work cannot be overstated. They are essential to the tearing down of strongholds for the work of the ministry.

Cheer Squad (Moral Support)
These sweet ones make a point of encouraging me and spurring me on to good works. They specialize in finding new ways for me to be encouraged and loved as I serve (i.e. packages, letters, supplies, etc.) But they also help remind those here in the states of what I’m doing, even getting new people on my team.

Nuts & Bolts (Logistic Support)
This nutty crew helps me with the details of life here in the States. They help me with things that I cannot get accomplished overseas (i.e. emergency paperwork, banking, fund raising ideas, etc.). They are the “get’er done” kind of people with a heart to serve practically.

Watering Can (Spiritual Support)
This group’s goal is to make sure I’m getting spiritually fed. They hold me accountable to daily devotions, send me bible studies, sermons on CDs, and/or find other ways to water my dusty soul. This area is constantly attacked in the field, and I need massive reinforcements.

Hilarious Givers (Financial Support)
These people are those who deem giving to be an act of joyful worship and they desire to do it hilariously. They recognize that we have nothing but that which God has provided and want to see God work powerfully in the mission field.

Foreign Correspondents (Communication Support)
These lovely ones put pen to paper and send regular letters (or emails) full of news from back home (i.e. newspaper cutouts, fun recipes, pictures their kids paint). They write about the latest news and don’t let me miss out on special event (marriages, births, conferences and even deaths) in the church body. They help me stay in touch so when I get home after years in the field, I don’t feel like a stranger.

So the question is... do you want to be on the Team?

If your answer is ‘Yes!’ then contact me and I’ll tie you in and let you know the current needs.

Missions Reminder...

   Mission Field Poster by  

Labor of Love January 2013

   Labor of Love Newsletter Jan 2013 by  

Labor of Love: Dec 2012

    Labor of Love Dec 2012     

Writing Wrongs ~

Recently I learned that many of those who faithfully prayed and generously gave toward the work in South Sudan had questions and concerns about how the money was being spent, especially concerning my frequent trips to Europe. And I wanted to address those questions in hope of clarifying any confusion.

Before I start, let me explain that while I was in Sudan, I was required to leave every 3-4 months. Each time I left, I had to be gone a month (as there was only one plane in and out of Tonj a month), and during each break I was mandatorily sent to Kenya.

What a lot of people have not clearly understood is why I then chose to leave Kenya during those breaks. Please allow me to explain. Kenya is not a safe place (for a white, single woman without transportation), nor is it a restful place (with chaotic roads, overcrowded stores, and general city stress). But the main reason I did not stay was financial.

It surprises many to hear that living in Africa costs as much as living in the States, but it does. Even living as cheaply as I could, I would have to pay roughly $1500/mo to stay in Nairobi and do nothing but stare at a wall.

However, when I chose to fly to Europe to stay with my family and friends it’d cost me about $800 for a ticket and incidentals. But more than anything, going to Europe provided a much needed mental and spiritual break for me that I just couldn’t get in Kenya.

Please know that when I left for Europe, I was not using ministry funds at all. Instead, I used money I saved from my small monthly stipend. I realize it might be hard to believe that going to Europe could be cheaper than staying in Africa, but I assure you it was.
 
Some people have suggested that I didn’t need to address this issue since when I go to Mozambique, I won’t have to leave every few months like before. However, I don’t want to leave any misunderstandings unaddressed --especially this one.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this and please know that if you have any questions about how your donated money is being spent, you can contact IDAT (www.indeedandtruth.org) or Shepherd’s Staff (www.shepsstaff.org) directly and get a full report of expenses at any time.

Before I go, please know that I am sincerely thankful and humbled by each and every one of my blog readers. Many of you have contacted me, encouraged me, and even supported me over the years. I could never have done any of this without your faithful prayers, love, and support.

Sincerely, Thank you!
~ Stephanie

Labor of Love Newsletter: Sept-Nov 2012

Labor of Love Sept-Nov 2012

South African Conference.

Conference center in Simonstown, South Africa.

Before I left for Mozambique I was looking into various missions conferences around the world, and I happened to stumble across one in South Africa.
 
"South Africa?! Why isn’t that next to Mozambique?" I thought to myself. 

So I looked it up on a map and sure enough they were right next door. I figured since I missed the one in Kenya earlier this year (as I wasn’t able to leave S. Sudan at that time), that I’d tag on this conference to the end of my Vision Tour trip to Moz.

Part of my thinking at the time was “Why not?”, but more importantly than that I felt compelled to go. God prodded me until I signed up and booked the flights.

However when I signed up for the week long conference, admittedly the South Africans on the other side of the computer screen were a bit confused. Had we spoken in person, this is how the conversation might have sounded.

-- “Which church are you from?”
-- “Calvary Chapel Mesquite, NV.”
-- “But that’s in America...”
-- “Yes. But I’ve been working as a missionary in Africa for the last two years.”
-- “And you are going to come ALL this way for the conference?”
-- “Yep. I’ll be in Mozambique for a missions trip anyway...”
-- “Okay.” Long pregnant pause. “I guess we’ll sign you up then.”

Naively, I thought since I was flying in and out of Johannesburg that I’d be able to simply rent a car and drive to the conference.

I was wrong.

Johannesburg is nowhere near Cape Town. When I learned it would be roughly 15 hrs driving, I decided to catch a flight instead.
    -- Who knew South Africa was so big?

I didn’t know what to expect when I got on the plane for the coast though. I figured I’d just go with the flow and figure things out as I went. In my head I'd rent a car when I got there and drive myself to the conference.

Karen and Demitri Nikiforos.

However, God went before me and prepared things perfectly. Those in Cape Town organizing the event (who I would later learn are the pastors of Calvary Chapel Cape Town --Demitri and Karen Nikiforos) blessed me over-abundantly long before I even arrived.

They had someone pick me up at the airport! They got me a ride on a chartered bus to Simonstown where the conference was being held! And then after it was over, they made sure I made it back to Cape Town in style, then offered me a bed in their home for the night!

I absolutely fell in love with them!

(Funny side note: once I landed I learned that I was not at a missions conference but a pastors and leaders conference! ha ha! No wonder they were so confused I was coming. :- ) 

Jeanne Claycamp and me.

But the divine appointments and exciting encounters don’t stop there; so much happened during that week that I’m finding it hard to write them succinctly.

Would bullet points suffice?         

Hardly.

How do I describe the beautiful facilities... and even more beautiful brothers and sisters in the Lord that I met along the way? How do I explain the timely and apropos teaching from the pulpit ... or the anointed worship?

It was so refreshing. So healing. So sweet.

But more than anything, it allowed me time to sit at His feet and listen. What was I listening for, you ask? Simple. I was only asking one question.

Do I go back to Mozambique or not?

The cracked open door was nice but it certainly wasn’t a neon sign. I wanted confirmation. If I am going to head off to Africa, learn two new languages, battle with government officials, and re-open an abandoned hospital, I wanted to know two things.

• One. That this is His will for my life.

• Two. That He is coming with me.

Much like Moses I kept crying out, “Lord unless you come with me, I’m not going.”
And not unlike Joshua I was feeling fearful to enter the land. There are hundreds more qualified and capable. Why me?

---“Lord... are You sure you want me to do this? We are talking about ME here. You and I both know I have the grace of a bull in a china cabinet... forget china shops!”
-- “Yes child. I know you very well. I made you this way. I have a purpose for you there.”
-- “What purpose?”
-- “You’ll see... but remember you are a bulldozer not a bull. You level mountains. You dig up stones. You make things move. That is what is needed there... for this season.”
-- “So... you are sending me there long-term. Is it my final destination?”
-- “Yes and no. Yes, you will be there for a time but I’m not planting you there permanently.”
-- “What do you mean? I thought this would be my final stop.”
-- “Remember,” He chided, “I created you. I know your purpose. You’re my bulldozer. You’ll be there a time, hand things over, then I’ll use you somewhere else.”
-- “But Lord,” I whined, “I want stability. I want to be planted.”
-- “You’ll have that for a season,” He explained, “but eventually, I’ll move you on. I created you for digging not planting.”
-- “Yes. Lord.”

I won’t bore you with the rest of the conversation I had with Him. Let me just say He spoke. He spoke in whispers. He spoke in prophecies. He spoke in scripture.

He spoke.

I’m to go to Mozambique.

But even better news... He’s coming with me!

Yippy!

I’ll stop my story there for now. Just know that I’m thrilled to pray and prepare for Mozambique. Will you please pray with me?

I have a number of boxes to tick on my prayer list.

• Set up an account with Shepherd’s Staff again so donors can give through them

• Paperwork for work visa (Police clearances for Philippines, Haiti and Sudan in particular)

• Finances (Language school fees, vehicle, one-time moving expenses, monthly support, etc.)

• To know which schools/intensive courses to attend for the Shona & Portuguese

• Raise the salary for the Mozambican nurse I'll be hiring

• Car to use in the States through December (as I’d like to be back in Moz by January).

Thank you so much for praying!

Spectacular Six!

Okay... so am I allowed to brag a bit? Am I allowed to tell you the crazy ways I've been blessed? If not, you have no business reading this post.

However, if so then let me just preface this a bit by saying I have a very unusual Bucket List. I won't bore you with the details but it's extensive and usually involves jumping out of planes, eating wacky foods, and hiking massive mountains.

One long-time item on this list... was to go on a Safari in Africa.

When I priced out the safaris in Kenya, however, I sputtered in surprise and disgust at the thousands of dollars they insisted I pay, and I resigned myself to NEVER seeing the Big Five (Aka: Elephant, Rhino, Leopard, Lion, and Hippopotamus).
          --But then God took me to South Africa.

When I saw that I had a few days between my time in Mozambique and the Pastors and Leaders conference in Cape Town, I looked into going on a quick safari. The prices they quoted me were not only reasonable... they were cheap!

Praise God!

So naturally I signed up. I figured it would be my birthday present... and boy was it!

The first day was a long drive from Johannesburg to Blyde River canyon, then to a fancy lodge just outside of Kruger national park.

My guide, Hoppy, was South African born and raised. He had a knowledge of the animals in this area that could only be described as encyclopedic.

Me at Blyde River canyon. River below. 

If there was a lizard or a bird --let alone any of the big game-- he knew its name and habits. It was extraordinary.

He took me and a honeymoon couple from Brazil through a remarkable ride through one of the world's most extensive national parks.

Kruger national park was founded in 1898 by South Africa's then president, Paul Kruger. The intent was to keep a sanctuary for wildlife from the massive hunting then practiced.

In all, the park is roughly 20,000 square kilometers and is similar to the length and size of Israel (390km long and 100 km wide). 

The Blyde river was pretty but nothing to write home about. We came, took a few pictures, then raced on to the game park.

That first night we stayed in a fancy lodge which arranged a night safari where within minutes we were able to see a crocodile, impalas, wildebeasts, and then a leopard.

The leopard (seen above) was within a few feet of us, lounging in the afternoon sun.

Majestic.

Afterward we came across a pride of lions with five males and five females. I was told that the only reason the males are together are because they are brothers. But once their alpha lion passes, there will be a fight for the ladies... and then three of the brothers will move on to other prides.



We watched as they slept, yawning and stretching from their afternoon nap. Apparently, lions sleep up to twenty hours a day!

Who knew?!

The next morning... we came across some white rhinos as well. They looked unreal! I seriously wanted to go up and touch them just to be certain they weren't in my head. I have dreamed of seeing rhinos up close for so long... I just couldn't believe it!

Amazing!

African White Rhino-- reportedly 3000 live in Kruger but they are being poached.

From there we saw countless baboons, bushbucks, and kudus. I really like the kudus for their regal stance and intricately twisted horns, but I was happy to see the giraffes, zebras, and genets too.

A male Kudu. The females look just like them... but without horns!

Two young male impalas play-fighting.

We saw birds galore (plovers, rollers, starlings, storks, vultures, eagles, etc.). I'd bore you with all the various names of them... but they were spectacular and diverse.

My favorite had to be a toss up between the ostrich and the yellow-billed hornbill (above), which some might recognize as zaza from the Lion King. 

I learned that ostriches don't put their head in the sand. Go figure!

Naturally there were sables, steenboks, waterbucks, and hyenas too. The warthogs always gave me a laugh though.

There is just something so beautiful in a face that ugly!

A warthog with a face only a mother could love!

However my greatest desire was to see a lot of elephants, and boy did I! We were able to watch hoards of them; they walked in front of us nonchalantly eating grass or stripping trees of their new shoots.

My guide frequently complained of the massive damage they do to the park, knocking over trees to eat the roots and generally forging paths through whatever and wherever they liked.

But when you think about it... if a newborn elephant weights 250 kilos, imagine how much the adults weighs. There is little that would be stupid enough get in their way --apparently even hippos don't even mess with them.

They have no predators in the park at all. None.

The hippos were also high on my list of 'to see'. They however, did not find it convenient to come out of the water so I could gaze  on their meaty mass.

This picture (above) was the closest I got to getting a sneak peak. All the rest of my pictures show little brown patches in lakes, with ears attached. They are basically an oversized pig with a water fetish.

The buffalo were everywhere. Herds and herds of them drank at every watering hole. They were majestic... but skittish. We never seemed to be able to get close.

On the last day of the safari, we came across four cheetahs (thus transforming the 'Big Five' into the 'Spectacular Six')!

Since this usually solitary hunter was in a pack, we suspect they were siblings. They were far off in the distance and getting active around some warthogs. At first we thought they had killed one of the warthogs, but was we watched through binoculars we could see that they were the ones being chased!

All four of the cheetahs are in this picture. They are looking at the warthog.

Yep. Four cheetahs were run off by one fiercely protective warthog mama! Man was she mad!

Crazy.

The baboons also gave us lots of laughs. Their playful nature and general appearance was hilarious.

These baboons were Chacma baboons, known for their brightly colored genitalia. The males had blue testes and the females red butts. Apparently, their hind-quarters get brighter when they are ready to mate.

Remarkable.

 

The best part of the trip though... had to be watching the baboons swimming. 

Yes, the usually hydrophobic primates set aside their fears for a few brief minutes and played in a shallow river bed like toddlers in a wading pool! 

Our guide explained that in his 17 years of traipsing through the park, he'd never seen anything like it.

Never. 

So enjoy this remarkable and unique video:

What a blessing! 

Some of the pictures and the definitely the video are courtesy of my co-adventurers, 

Narcizo Souza-Neto and Daniela Coelh. Thanks for sharing!