Trusting the artist

Many a days I sit back and look at my life here in Zambia and think, how did I end up here? I am left with nothing but marvel at the hand of God, the master artist who has painted each stroke with purpose, precision and patience. I am but a canvas, chosen to become what the artist deems fit, chosen for a specific purpose and as the artist picks up his paint brush he does not wonder what I will become, he has decided what I will become. No stroke from his brush is a mistake and with time the masterpiece, what the painting is destined to become begins to make sense. Who am I to question the artist? What may make no sense to me makes perfect sense to him. Vivid colors full of life and passion are stroked across the canvas and are seemingly overshadowed by the deep, the desolate, the dismal colors of darkness. With time the canvas, when looking up only saw the darkness that covered and seemed to suffocate it. No longer could canvas see the artist at work, its gaze was focused only on the despairing suffocation of the darkness. The canvas could no longer feel the gentle strokes of the skilled artist ‘s brush. Had the painter abandoned his work? Had he given up on his visions of a masterpiece?  Days turned in to weeks, which turned to months and then years. The once eager heart of the canvas grew dull. Doubt replaced hope and sorrow superseded joy.   Then the day came where the canvas in a state of desperation called out for the painter. Have you forgotten me? Have you given up on me? Are you still working to make me into a beautiful masterpiece as you had promised?  Then the still small voice of the artist spoke gently saying,” I have never stopped working to make you into that masterpiece and I will never stop until you have become what you are destined to become. I am ever working. Your focus has been on the paint not the painter. The paint is merely a tool in my hand to make you into what I desire. You must trust me. Let me show you what I see” At that moment the artist lifted the canvas to a mirror and for that moment the canvas saw through the eyes of the artist. It was given a new perspective. The colors, even the dark despairing hues began to make sense. The canvas was not complete but was beginning to see the beauty unfold. It was becoming a masterpiece. In anticipation, the once dull heart of the canvas grew eager. Hope replaced doubt and joy superseded sorrow. As time went on there were times when the canvas was tempted to believe the artist was no longer at work. But was quickly reminded of the words of the artist and the glimpse it was given of what it was to become. Looking back on that moment now liberates the canvas from the chains of deception and false perspective that once enslaved it. Remembering to look through the eyes of the master artist and to trust each stroke of his hand, even when he chooses to use the darker shades to enhance the forthcoming masterpiece. 

Seeing the fruit of my labor

One thing that I am is busy!! But nonetheless it’s important to let my supporters see at least a glimpse into my everyday life here in Ndola, Zambia.  I am sure every child struggles with being truthful when telling the truth means they will be punished. Over the past 6 months one of the lessons I have tried to instill into my babies is the importance of telling the truth, even if it means you will get punished. I have tried to help them understand sin and how when we do something wrongs we are not only sinning against that person but against God. I had been seeing a pattern of lying in some of the children and wanted them to understand that even if I don’t know if they are lying there is someone that does, God.  There are days when I will stop teaching the “planned lesson” to take advantage of a teachable moment. One day we spent a good 30 minutes talking about how God is everywhere and how he sees everything we do and knows even our every thought. As I was talking and looked around the room many of the little faces were fascinated and even surprised at the concept of this. Hands went up and questions started flowing. Can he see even if it’s dark? How can he see what I am doing and also what someone else far away is doing? I sat on the edge of one of the desks, put the text books aside and we had ourselves a practical theology lesson. After the questions had been satisfactorily answered we got back to our science lesson.

A few weeks later I was in the other classroom talking with one of the teachers and heard some commotion out in the hall.  When I peaked out of the door I saw the groundskeeper scolding some of the children from my class. I walked over and found they were arguing with one another. Apparently, after I left some of the boys were running and sliding on the freshly polished floors, something they are reminded on a daily basis not to do. They know that doing this will result in punishment. When I asked who was sliding on the floor they all of course were telling me each others names, not their own. So I stopped them all and after reminding them of the conversation we had some weeks ago said, “ Ok, I am going to give you each a chance to do the right thing and tell me the truth. Remember that even if I do not know if you are lying God knows.”  There were 6 boys, one by one I asked them ok (insert name), were you running and sliding on the floors?”  5 out of the 6 boys admitted they had if fact disobeyed and were sliding on the floors. I thanked them for telling me the truth and said they had done the right thing and God was happy that they choose to tell the truth even though they knew they would be punished. I gave them each a hug as they said,” sorry teacher for lying” and had them go sit down in their seat. The 6^th boy refused that he had been sliding and when he did this there was a loud outcry from the class saying, “Teacher, he is lying..he was sliding!!!!” I held up my hand, signaling them to stop talking then said to him, “Your friends are telling me that you were sliding and you are telling me you were not. Someone is lying. I don’t know because I was not here but I want you to do the right thing and tell me the truth.  So, I am giving you one more chance to tell me the truth. So, if you need to change your answer go ahead and do that now.” His reply was, “ok, yes teacher I was sliding.”  He apologized, I hugged him and thanked him for telling the truth and then he went to his seat. This dialogue took a good 15-20 minutes as I recapped what sin is, how God sees everything even if I do not and the importance of telling the truth even when it means you might get punished. I had been over near the door to the classroom talking with the boys about this and once I was finished it was time for morning break. I walked back to the middle of the classroom and we prayed for the snack and then they lined up to go outside. As they were lining up one of the girls came up to me crying. I leaned down close to her, as it was difficult to hear her through the tears. I told the rest of the class to go ahead outside and then asked her what was the matter. My thought was that she wasn’t feeling well or someone had hit her. Through her sobbing she said, “Teacher, I have come to beg for your forgiveness.” I said, “Ok, what is it that you need to ask my forgiveness for?” She said, “Well teacher, remember that time when we were still in the other building and you had asked me if I ran around the building two times when I was only suppose to run around once?” I said, “Yes, I remember.” “Well,” she said, “I told you that I had only run around once, but that was a lie, I had run around two times. Will you please, please forgive me? “ I just embraced her and rubbed her back as her tears and sobbing continued. I had been oblivious to the fact that she was listening to the conversation from clear across the room as I was speaking to the 6 boys about truthfulness. I was so touched and grateful that God used that conversation to convict her heart for lying to me that time, nearly 5 months ago. Thank you Lord for allowing me to be part of this precious moment. I thanked her for coming back to me and telling me and that it made me very happy and that even God was happy that she decided to come tell the truth, even though it happened so long ago. These are the moments where I see God at work in the hearts of his dear little children, the moments that fill my heart with such joy to see them choosing the path of righteousness and repentance. My prayer is that God will continue to use me to help shepherd their hearts. It’s such a privilege to see them grow in this area and I know he is faithful to complete the work that he has started.  Give me the patience and wisdom I need to lead them closer to you! 

New Followers of Jesus :)

Help Lighthouse Christian School get desks for our classroom Like these

Walk a mile in their shoes

A common occurrence when I am in town is for me to see street kids begging for money. When I first came to Zambia almost 16 months ago I was to the point of avoiding going to town because it broke my heart so much. I knew that I could not give money or food to them all nor that I was called to but I would see them and the image of their faces and their plight would be on my mind all day. It would keep me awake at night as I wondered what if anything they had eaten that day, if they were being abused or safe. Where were they sleeping? In a gutter, behind a building, in front of a shop? I felt so crushed in my spirit, helpless in a way because knowing these children and countless others are suffering. My prayer then was that God would give me wisdom in whom to help and that my heart would always remain moved by such things. I was afraid that with time my heart would grow calloused to the suffering that I see pretty much on a daily basis. I want my heart to be moved by the things that move my heavenly Fathers heart, not just turn a blind eye to make it easier for me to sleep at night.

Last year the Lord brought Joseph across my path. For those of you who don’t know about Joseph, he was a boy begging on the streets to get money for food, he lives with his grandmother in one of the slums because both his parents died when he was still an infant. He was very sick and malnourished. He is about 13 but looked about 9 and was super skinny. Because of you I am able to now take that family food on a weekly basis and was able to finance a new tin roof for their mud brick home before the rainy season came. My vision for Joseph is to see him in school, something I am now working on. So thank you all for your sacrificial giving, you are making a difference. This past Saturday I was passing by a big field in the slums that on the weekend is transformed into countless mini makeshift soccer fields and seemingly all of the children in that area flock there to pass the day in the sheer bliss of being a child for a change. As I passed by and my eyes surveyed the land my heart was joyful to see such. Suddenly, Joseph came running up to me with a smile on his face. I smiled back and pointed in the direction of his house, “communicating” for him to meet me there. I dropped 2 weeks worth of food and then he hurried back to continue playing with the neighborhood boys. Seeing him smile makes my day. I know that God has great things planned for him and I cant wait to see what it is!

Right now God has burdened my heart with 3 others, 2 boys and a young girl that has a small child. I am praying to see how God wants me to help each of them.  I think the best thing for the 2 boys is to get them in the street boy rehabilitation program. I will need to contact the organization that runs this and see what they can do. The boys would have to agree to go; they don’t force them because if they did then rehabilitation would not be effective.  Both speak very little English but we are able to communicate on a basic level. One of the boys is always outside the grocery store and as I exit the door he is always eager to take the cart to the taxi and back the bags in the boot (trunk) for me. His payment is always a snicker bar which he quickly starts eating as I pull off, with a big smile on his face as he waves to me. I noticed last year that this boy is very intelligent and apparently he stays with his blind grandmother. He told me he was in school but as of late it is clear that this is no longer the case. As you leave the grocery store you will see about 10-15 boys between 14 and their early 20’s washing cars, carrying bags to taxis, greeting passerbys and asking for “small change.” I have learned most of their faces and with time started to notice things I was naïvely blind to before. The most disturbing and dangerous thing is that many will get small empty plastic drinking bottles and put a small amount of gasoline into the bottle and then sniff the fumes until they are high. Not to long ago as I came out of the grocery store I was surprised not to find my young helper at the door. I walked out into the small crowd and scanned the faces looking for him.  As I pushed my cart to the taxi I found him sitting on the curb doing what was in my mind unthinkable..he was sniffing gasoline. My heart cried out NO, NO, NO…not him God..not him, please! I grabbed the bottle from him, the lid still off since he was in the middle of sniffing, put the lid back on and threw it far into the ditches of a construction site. He glared at me angrily but I didn’t care, my heart was crushed for him. I knew if he continued along this path his life would soon be over. I called a taxi driver over and told him to scold the boy for doing that and told him to tell him not to do that anymore. I went home only able to think of this boy, he is about 14 or 15 I would guess. Be praying that he will be willing to go into this program and that God would protect him and draw him unto himself.

This past Sunday after church I needed to buy a few small things so I walked with Swazi from church into town to the grocery store. As we came out and were walking to the bus station someone came up from behind me and clutched my hand. I turned only to see the smiling face of my little helper. He pointed at his feet showing me his shoes. That was his way of asking me to buy him a pair of new shoes. He was wearing old flip-flops that were worn nearly flat and had many holes. I told him to meet me at the “shoe store” tomorrow morning and I would buy him a pair. He smiled and said ok. In the morning I rushed to meet him before school started but did not find him. After school I decided to go back to the area I always see him and see if he was there. After looking for about 3 minutes I found him and motioned for him to join me in the store. He came quickly as did another shoeless boy of about 16. I told him to pick a pair of shoes and he went to the work boot area at first, one of the most expensive types of shoes. I then had one of the workers come and instruct him in Bemba of his “price range” After about 20 minutes he selected a pair of white “leather looking” tennis shoes with a red and blue stripe on them. He held them up and smiled. I shook my head yes and he practically ran up to the checkout line and put the shoes next to the register, ignoring the line of people. I guess he was excited…lol As I was walking after him the other boy asked me if I could get him a pair of $2 flip flops. I told him yes but instructed him to pick a pair of the more sturdy Velcro cloth sandals. He was very happy and when I handed him his bag with his shoes he grabbed my hand and thanked me earnestly. We walked out of the store together and they walked me to my taxi, both thanking me again. Please keep these precious children in your prayers!

 In my next blog I will talk about the other boy and the girl with the child that the lord has placed on my heart. 

Ackson and Joyce

Working on times tables

Ackson

My precious Dyness

Mwamba, Wana and Joyce

Me and some of my boys

Lesson Prep

what happens when my hair is down

Steven, Cuthbert and Jonathan

2 of the triplets, Haggai and Amos

My beautiful Taonga

February 14, 2012

          On a day most people are celebrating their love for their significant other I was woken up early by a call informing me that the burial for little Mercy was going to be taking place. She was a student at our school and in the 1^st grade. It was not the 1^st burial I have attended but my 1^st for a child. Honestly, I didn’t want to go..I really didn’t think it was something I could handle emotionally. But I knew I had to, for one its somewhat expected and its something the Lord calls us to do, “mourn with those who mourn.”

            I left the house around 8:15 and waited down by the shops until about 8:45 for my ride. When we arrived to the cemetery I saw about 4 other large groups passing to bury a friend or loved one. As my eyes scanned my surroundings I saw high grass about 6 feet tall where many of the burial plots were.  I saw no headstones as we passed along the mud roads full of potholes and tons of water. A group of teen boys who were covered in mud walked by carrying shovels and were being followed by two mangy looking dogs. Apparently, their job is to dig the graves.  After waiting about an hour the family and the mourners for Mercy made it to the burial site. I was told that they had to pass by the children’s hospital to pick up the body on their way to where we were.  We all got out of the car and walked to a small clearing in a field, walking cautiously to avoid the many puddles of water and slick mud. We stopped just under a cluster of small trees as the large pick up truck approached carrying the body and about 25 mourners in the back. They had packed in the back standing and sitting on the edge of the truck bed to fit as many people as possible.

            I was told that the area we stood in was specifically designated for children.  I surveyed the land of rounded mounds of dirt and my heart grew heavy and the tears began to flow almost immediately. Death is hard enough to deal with, but when it’s the death of a child for me at least it seems so much more difficult to accept.  I guess because it’s so “unnatural” in my mind for a mother to have to bury her child. When I look at a child I see someone full of dreams, full of potential, full of life.  But unfortunately death comes even to young. I am reminded of the fact that no one is promised tomorrow..we don’t know how much time we have or even how much time our children have on this earth. It made me see even more the importance of the gospel message to the children God has placed in my path.  There is just as much urgency to proclaim the good news to them, as it is any other. The verse, Psalm 90:12 comes to mind, “ Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” My heart is broken but I fell a fresh burden for the young hearts and souls of the children the Lord has brought me here to serve.

            After reflecting a bit I returned my gaze to the truck carrying the mourners just in time to see a small coffin being carried off. It was a small 3-foot box made from thin wood, which had been varnished in a medium maroon color. Where the seams of the wood met there was a black thick band of glue. As the men carrying the coffin passed by me I was overwhelmed with grief, to the point that I had to close my eyes. I didn’t want to look anymore. I didn’t want to face this harsh reality. I wanted to be anywhere but there. I just shook my head as the tears flowed uncontrollably. In my mind I was saying, this isn’t right God..it just isn’t right. I then prayed and asked God’s comfort to be upon the family and that he would strengthen me and help me to learn a lesson from this moment. When I opened my eyes they were placing the miniature coffin under the cluster of small trees. A group of woman from the mother’s church sat huddled together on the ground singing worship songs and songs of comfort softly.  Then the pastor came forward, standing over the coffin and gave a short sermon in the local dialect. As I looked again at the coffin I noticed 8 small, thin nails patruding from the lid. I soon realized that the viewing would be taking place under the umbrella of these trees.

            Moments later, one of the members of the woman’s church group came up to the coffin and knelt. She slowly lifted the top off and inside was the child wrapped in a blanket, swaddled like a newborn. She carefully uncovered Mercy’s face and tucked the blanked tenderly around her face. We were then instructed to come forward to view the body. I still could not get over the small size of the box and I hesitated to join the queue. Eventually I passed by and it took all within me not to fall to my knees weeping. I watched with eyes full of tears as her older brother passed by (he is also a student at our school in grade5) and then her mother. The moment her mother saw the body she blacked out and fell to the ground. She had to be carried away, still unconscious, not able to handle the level of grief that consumed her.

            Next 2 men jumped down into the grave that had been dug and the coffin was passed down to them to be situated properly. Once they ascended one man walked around with a shovel of dirt through the crowd. This was a gesture of respect in which he was offering family members the opportunity to throw a handful of dirt down onto the coffin. No one was able to do so. He returned to the grave and the hollow echo of the dirt hitting the top of the box still resounds in my ears. Soon after, 5 other men joined him shoveling the dirt to fill the grave and eventually making a rounded mound. The pastor then came back up and stood before the grave. He called family members one by one to place small bouquets of flowers upright atop the gravesite.  Once they finished the teachers and staff of Lighthouse were called forward. We stood and/or kneeled around the mound of dirt, placing our bouquets with the others choking through tears as we sang a song a comfort.

          Psalm 22:19, “But you, O Lord, be not far off; O my strength, come quickly to help me.”

February 4, 2012

          I am thankful that I finally had a weekend free of the flu or malaria!!  Today the teachers and about 50 of the pupils from grades 3-5 went to the new school building to do a heavy duty cleaning. Our official opening ceremony is next week and many government officials, parent, guardians and sponsors will be attending. The building is close now to being in move in condition. We are just waiting to raise funds for desks and chairs for each of the classrooms. When I arrived at 8 there were already about 15 or 20 children there running around full of energy and excitement. I took time to walk through the corridors of the school, stopping in each classroom to assess what needed to be done. Laughter and screams of excitement echoed through the halls and I couldn’t help but get emotional. God has been so good and faithful to provide. At this moment there is nothing I look forward to more than seeing these kids in this building. My classroom is 4 times bigger than the one I am currently teaching in and 2 of the walls will be covered in bulletin boards for my charts. No longer will I have to squat to write on the board, no longer will my legs be covered in bruises from having to squeeze through chairs to get from the front of the classroom to the back. Our goal is to have double seater desks rather than the cheap wood tables we had made that are now falling apart. There is a company locally that makes high quality desks from wood and steel that will last a very long time.

            Well, after taking my personal tour of thankfulness I realized quickly we needed some order in the midst of this chaos. It was quickly getting out of hand and im sure it was only a matter of time before someone got hurt.  Two of the rooms had large piles of plank wood, PVC pipe and piles of dirt that needed to be taken outside. I called the grade 5 boys and a few of the grade 4 boys to come and do the “man work.” They all rushed in and were eager to work although they all wanted to exit the room at the same time. Again another possible problem so I assigned one of the boys to door duty. I instructed him to take charge and make sure only one passes through at a time so that no one gets hurt. With that now under control I went to go call the girls and some of the younger boys to assign them tasks. After talking to Wilbroad (my pastor and the building project manager) we decided it best to start at one end of the school and clean room by room.  Many of the children had brought brooms they made from grass; others had found brooms lying around or small shovels. They all were just waiting to be told what to do, none wanted to be without a job. I was so blessed to see their eagerness to serve. Soon windows were being washed, floors swept and mopped, bathrooms scrubbed down, and land was being cleared around the parameter of the school. Old empty cement bags seemed to be our most useful tool. They were being used to carry dirt out from the building and being used outside to hold grass and weeds that had been cut. In another corner of the plot old plastic bottles had been cut to hold water for cleaning purposes and cement bags were being cut with sheers to use to scrub down the doorframes and sinks.

            After about 7 hours of working and with the majority of heavy-duty work done I joined a small group of kids that were sitting out in the grass relaxing. I plopped down and just laid back in the grass. It was then that I noticed my hands covered in blisters that had now torn open, my clothes covered in mud and sweat but all I could do was smile knowing we were one step closer to that day…move in day. As soon as I laid down about 10 kids came running over to me. I sat up to greet them all. They encamped around me, fighting for a leg to lie on or an arm to hold.  One boy ran up from behind me jumping on my back, nearly knocking me over. They are still quite fascinated with my skin and hair so from time to time I would feel some one trying to secretly tug at or smell my hair or pull at the blonde hair on my arms. I pretend not to notice but I sometimes do just laugh to myself.

            After resting for about 20 minutes I found another use for those cement bags…my version of potato sack races. Oh my goodness, I don’t think I could have laughed more. It was one of the most adorable things. I had as much fun watching as they did participating. After that I did a bit of racing with them and swinging them around, then it was time for all of us to head home before the rains came.

           

January 21, 2012

   Well another Saturday has come and gone. The 1^st weekend I got back a new tradition began, between 2 and 10 of my pupils show up knocking at my door to visit. Today they came just before 7:30 am, I was still asleep and was woken by sounds of banging on my front door and a multitude of kids shouting, “Teacher!! Teacher!!” I quickly jumped up and hurried to the door, hoping they hadn’t woken my neighbors as well. There were 4 of my boys at the door with huge smiles on their faces as they eagerly waited for me to unlock my security door’s dead bolts. They hurried in the front door, quickly took off their shoes and made their way to the living room. Moments later there was another knock and 3 more boys scurried in. They spent time coloring, reading, playing games, chasing each other around the house and watching movies.  A couple of hours later, while I was making them all a lunch of rice and beans, yet another knock and 2 more boys.  Luckily, I made enough for all 9.  They all sat on the living room enjoying the meal and making jokes about the sounds beans cause…what do you expect when you have a house full of boys. I really couldn’t help but join them in the laughter, its contagious. After they finished their meal they finished watching, Night at the Museum as I made chocolate chip cookies. A few of the boys snuck into the kitchen to try and figure out this apparently new smell. The watched as I took the 1^st batch out, placed them on a plate and began spooning the next round of batter onto the cookie sheet. They watched with curiosity in their eyes and then one of them finally asked, “Teacher, what is that?” I explained they were biscuits (what they call cookies) with chocolate in them. They did a little “happy dance” and bent down to watch the dough in the oven expand as it baked. I turned to get some water for a few of the other boys and when I made my way back to baking caught one of the boys tasting the cookie dough. HA! I guess that is not a learned behavior. Once the 2^nd batch of cookies came out of the oven most of the boys were peaking into the kitchen wondering what was smelling so good. I had them all make their way back to the living room and started passing them out. Needless to say and not surprisingly at all, they loved them.  Such an “American staple food” was something none of them had ever tasted before. Seeing them enjoy every bite made my day. I love filling little bellies. By the time they left it was after 2 and a storm was starting to roll in. I called one of my regular taxi drivers (after giving them one last cookie) and we packed the 9 of them in and he took them to the school plot so that they would not have to walk so far and risk getting stuck in the rain. Walking to my place can take them anywhere from 40-70 minutes depending on which part of the slums they come from. We will see how many show up next weekend. 

January 17, 2012

   Well its’ year two of teaching in Ndola, Zambia at Lighthouse Christian school. My 1^st year was full of so many joys and challenges and I am eager to see what this next year will hold. Last year I started with 30 pupils and by the end was down to 27. This year I have 28 pupils, which includes 11 boys, 3 of which are triplets and 17 girls. Week one I had to break up 4 fistfights, week two was a little better with only 3. But hey it keeps me on my toes and gives me ample opportunity to work on their character as well as mine. It’s a learning experience for us all. I am excited to see all God will do in this school year and am confident his grace will continue to be there for me to do all he has called me to do. All I need to do is rely on his strength and cry out to him on a daily basis. Please continue to lift me up in your prayers and here is a list of my current students, I would appreciate your prayers on their behalf as well:

Boys:

Triplets- Aaron, Amos and Haggai

Ackson

Benson

Charles

Cuthbert

Evans

Gift

Jonathan

Steven

Girls:

Abigail

Angela

Emeldah

Febby

Gift

Joyce

Jamila

Mwamba

Mary

Nelia

Pricilla

Salome

Thelma

Taonga

Nguinu

Eunice

Wana

January 10, 2012

   Well we arrived to Ndola in the late afternoon of the 8^th after 18 hours on two different planes, a 9-hour layover in London and about a 5-hour car ride from the airport in Lusaka. Praise God all of our luggage made it. After we brought up all the bags I took a quick cold bucket bath and headed into town to buy some electricity (one of the many things here that is pre-paid) and go grocery shopping. I walked down to the nearby shops to buy my electricity and ran into so many familiar faces. I spent a good 20 minutes greeting different people, exchanging hand shakes, hugs and updates. After finally getting my electricity I headed to the grocery store. I hadn’t bothered making a list and as I walked through the aisles of the store I tried to remember what I needed to buy and then realized…everything…lol…the house is completely barren of all food and most cleaning supplies. I first went down the water aisle and found there were no large containers of water, only the 500ml bottles, I grabbed 9 bottles. I got most of our “food essentials” so headed to the cleaning supply section. 5 out of the 6 cleaning supplies I normally use were completely out of stock and there were no substitutes for any of them. I don’t think that would ever happen in the states, when I was there on furlough I literally got overwhelmed at the amount of choices. But seriously, do I need 50 different choices of deodorant?? I finished at the grocery store then hit the market to get my fresh produce. As I walked into the market I saw many familiar faces of women I regularly bought produce from. The joy on their faces to see me truly warmed my heart.  After that I went to one other shop to buy bread and sugar…2 of the items I forgot to buy at the store. I believe my forgetfulness was a symptom of my sleep-deprived body. Nonetheless, I got what I needed and headed home. I called Swazi to see if her and Oksana (my friend from my home church who is visiting for 2 months) could help me carry up the goods. Only one of the 4 elevators was working and there was only room for one of us on the lift. I sent Swazi ahead of us and me and Oksana took the stairs. By this time it was dark out and I had totally forgot one very important fact:  Most of the lights in the stairwell don’t have bulbs so it was pretty much pitch black. We made our way up carefully and then on the stairs at the 3^rd floor Oksana tripped and fell hitting her leg pretty hard. I was so very concerned and wished right away that it had happened to me instead. I knew she was tired, in a new land and experiencing so many culture shocks all at once. I thought to myself, oh great!! I didn’t know if this on top of everything else would cause her to just break down.  We made it up the last flight of stairs and luckily it wasn’t too bad, she was just a little sore. I had her take some Aleve and then made her a grilled cheese and mad a bowl of rice crispies with banana for myself.  Soon after that we all got ready for bed. I spent some time praying with Oksana because I know how hard it is to be so far from those you love paired with exhaustion and being somewhere new. I’m so proud of her though!! She even took a cold bath on her 1^st day here!! She will be just fine.