Just me...

Over the last few weeks I have been called an American, a volunteer, a missionary, an angel, “Tia Branca” (the white aunt), Tia Abi, a foreigner, a beautiful woman, the blonde girl, a student, and countless other names.  With each of these names comes an expectation.  Then I meet someone else who has the same title and seems to be living up to the expectation far better than I.  I begin to compare myself to them and focus on my insufficiencies.  Well, guess what?  I am just me—just Abigail.

I am a chocolate-and-coffee-loving female.  My obsessions include running and cooking.  Sitting still is difficult for me; I would rather be moving and busy.  I am serious most of the time, but my sisters bring out my outbursts of hysteria.  Small talk aggravates me.  I desire to go deep with others and hear their life stories, yet it takes me awhile to trust people with my story.  I enjoy observing people and trying to understand them.  When I do something, I want to pour my whole heart into that thing.  Sometimes this leaves me with a broken heart, but I am prone to setting my expectations low in hopes of avoiding emotional pain.   I think that I am tough, but it is the smallest things that make me break.  My heart comes alive when I am holding the hand of a dying individual or cuddling a sick child.  I want to go to places of suffering because I want to be moved to compassion—compassion that just might make a difference or give a glimpse of hope. 

Now, I am half a world away from my home and the people that know me.  The distance has made me question who I really am.  Over the years, I have lived with so many facades.  I desire to exceed the expectations of others, but then I get overwhelmed and find myself suffocating under the pressures of who people want me to be and the reality of my flaws.  Ultimately, I realize that I am just me.  I have only one voice to answer to and that is God’s voice.  He has called me to love Him with all of my heart, soul, and mind. This is not hard to do considering the fact that He is my greatest lover who fills my life with endless blessings. Secondly, He has called me to love my neighbor as myself—not more than myself, AS myself. 

In Matthew 25, Jesus says, “When I was hungry, you gave me something to eat, and when I was thirsty, you gave me something to drink.  When I was a stranger, you welcomed me, and when I was naked, you gave me clothes to wear.  When I was sick, you took care of me, and when I was in jail, you visited me.”  Jesus’s followers asked when they did this for Him, and He replied, “Whenever you did it for any of my people, no matter how unimportant they seemed; you did it for me.”  I have been given the opportunity to love Jesus—the one who never hurts me and always love me with unconditional love—by loving the broken and hurting of this world.  While this is often contrary to my flesh’s desires, the joy that this brings to my heart and soul is inconceivable.  On the other hand, when I choose to ignore the suffering of human beings, I have chosen to reject Jesus.  I have left Him naked, hungry, thirsty, suffering, and alone.  I have trampled on love and condemned myself as a result.

Jesus has changed my life.  Jesus has given me hope.  Jesus has given me freedom from the expectations of others.  Because of Jesus, grace and forgiveness have entered my life.  I don’t want to live one day in which I do not respond in love to Jesus’s image in others.  To be able to reciprocate a portion of the love that He constantly bestows on me makes my life a beautiful romance.  So, I am just me—loved and lover. 

Mourn with those who Mourn; Rejoice with those who Rejoice

Watching a mother lose her child to cancer is probably the worst thing that I have ever seen.  The child moans and cries when touched.  I hold the mother's hand, and she fights the tears that flood her eyes.  A language barrier prevents me from giving her words of hope, and what would I say anyway?  There we are--both helpless--our hearts broken.  Then I begin to wonder why am I here?  What can I do?  I try to be strong and put on a smile for the other patients who need some joy.  The pain of the suffering mother and her daughter haunts me.  I want to fix it, but I can't.  Then I realize that it is not my job to fix or heal.  Only God can mend and restore broken hearts.  My job is to "rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn."  When it is too much for me to bare, I send heartfelt prayers to God--a God full of mercy and compassion who came to earth to heal the sick and ascended to Heaven to carry those who suffer to a place where there will be no more mourning, crying, or pain." 

Come into the Dirt with Me

For the first time in years, I can honestly say that I like waking up in the morning with a new day ahead of me more than I like retreating to my bed and escaping my life at night.  Truly, Jesus has come to give life and life to the fullest. 

Thursday was one of the most beautiful days of my life.  I went to a Bible Study (in English!) with Alice and about ten other missionary women from America, Brazil, and Portugal.  Even though I am far from my biological family, I know that I have brothers and sisters here.  I loved talking to the ladies and hearing the stories of how God brought them to Mozambique.  As we bowed our heads together in prayer, I knew that I was at home.

After Bible Study, Alice and I returned to the apartment to pick up Mila a Portuguese friend who stayed with us for two days.  Let me tell you a little about Mila.  Mila is a tiny little lady with a strong Portuguese accent.  She is a widow with grown children, and now she comes to Mozambique every year to spend three months living at a rural orphanage/kindergarten in Metola.  Although Mila and I had a hard time communicating, we hold each other close to our hearts.  She could have an exquisite life in Portugal, but instead she chooses a life without consistent electricity, without internet, in the dirt, and with very few material possessions.   She chooses to seek the kingdom of Heaven and see the value of each and every human heart.  Before driving Mila to Metola, we stopped at the supermarket so that she could purchase groceries for the next three months.  Then we were off. 

Clouds of dust arose as our vehicle turned onto the dirt path that brought us to the kindergarten.  When we arrived and stepped out into the African dirt, children charged us.  A little boy came flying into my arms and before I knew it, dozens of children we pressing in to get a glimpse of the foreigner.  I crouched down to give as many kisses as possible, and before I knew it, there were so many children piled on top of me that I fell into the dirt.  It had not been my plan to get dirty as we were going to a going away party for a missionary family later; but as I sat in the dirt with the children, I realized that if the children are in the dirt then that is where I want to be too.  I have never felt more joy than I did in that moment with dust covering my body, dirty fingers combing my hair, sticky hands rubbing my skin, and runny noses dripping snot on my leg. 

 

So often Jesus was in the dirt, and I believe that He invites me there too.  I can choose to tread on the dirt or even build a house on it to shield myself from seeing, feeling, tasting, or smelling it.  Yes, my life might be more comfortable this way.  After all, it is messy, tiresome, and difficult to dig into the dirt; but it is in the dirt that I find the most beautiful treasure.  If I choose not to seek the buried treasure, I risk never seeing the diamond, the rose, or the human being that arises from the dirt.  One day, Love stopped for me and found me in the dirt.  Every time that I fall into the dirt, He is once again there to lend me His hand and pick me up.  Now, instead of considering the pain, the dirt, and the agony, I will strive relentlessly for the one caught in the rubble.  They are beautiful and are worth even my life because by the blood of Jesus they are washed of the dirt and their darkest stains just as I have been.  Then I get to see unimaginable beauty, and I smile.  I have nothing to fear; Love is on my side.

 

Life in Maputo

Ola, meu amores!  My brain cannot think clearly as I am constantly trying to translate my thoughts into Portuguese phrases with my limited vocabulary.  If this note seems choppy and abrupt, please realize that I have two conversations going on in my head. 

Last night, I went to bed early because I was exhausted.  After two hours of sleep, I woke up wide awake.  I am on the fourteenth floor of an apartment building right in Maputo, Mozambique (my first time living in a big city!).  It is very windy here, and the howling wind, the blaring sirens, the barking dogs, and the pouring rain all played a part in keeping me awake.  Every time that I would try to relax and sleep, thoughts would pop into my head, and my brain instantly tried to translate them to Portuguese.  My head hurt, but my brain would not shut off.  As the hours passed, I realized just how lonely I felt and how much I missed my friends.  After four hours of reading, journaling, tossing, turning, and praying; Jesus reminded me to keep my eyes on Him.  I found peace in repeating His name over and over until I fell fast asleep.

Today, I woke up well rested for the first time in weeks, and it has been a very good day.  This afternoon I went to Hospital Central de Maputo and saw all of the children that I met yesterday; but today they were not as shy, and I was not as tired.  All of the children have cancer and carry an IV port in their hands or arms as a result.  They have good days and bad days depending on whether or not they have recently received treatment.  We pull out a table and chairs and spend several hours coloring pictures, writing, and playing together.  I was able to practice my Portuguese with the children as they are very forgiving of my mistakes and excellent teachers.  Learning Portuguese is much like building a puzzle as I am constantly trying to piece together conversation, and I am ecstatic when I find new pieces that fit. 

Today, I found more treasure.  Regina and Florenca are five-year-old little girls and cancer patients at the hospital.  They were shy yesterday but not today.  They kept inching closer and closer to me until I began to draw and write hand-over-hand with them.  Eventually, I picked them up onto my lap, and they began touching my blonde hair and exclaiming over it like it was the most amazing thing in the world.  They took off my ring and began playing the guessing game as to which hand it was in.  My favorite part was when I kissed them saying, “Beijhos! (kisses),” and then they began kissing my cheeks repetitively one after another.  They didn’t want to stop, and I knew right then and there that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.  Loving and being loved—it doesn’t get much better than that.

Living with a Portuguese family in Mozambique has definitely given me a case of culture shock, but I cannot complain as my host family is kind beyond words and simply breathing in the air of Mozambique makes my heart come alive.  I greatly appreciate all of your love, kind words, and prayers.  While it is not always easy, I am very happy to be here in Mozambique and know that this is where I am supposed to be for this season of my life. 

Layover Musings

This past week has been insanity.  After I said goodbye to my job and residents at Joy Givers Senior Home, I thought I would have a quiet week to prepare for my journey to Mozambique.  Well, let me tell you; this past week has been everything but quiet.  However, God has definitely used each and every moment of this week to prepare me for my journey and to shape my heart to allow me to most effectively love and receive love. 

Now, I am sitting at Dulles International Airport awaiting my flight across the Atlantic to my beloved continent of Africa.  I am exhausted from a week of sleepless nights, and my heart hurts for the burdens and sufferings of those whom I have loved so dearly but now have to step away from.  Yet, I know that the exhaustion has brought me to the end of my rope.  God is all I have to fall back onto, and there is no place that I’d rather be than in His arms.  Furthermore, the tears that I fight back remind me that I have truly loved.  While my love fails, I pray that my expressions of love point back to the unfailing love of God.  I find peace in knowing that love is unending, inevitable, absolute, and independent of me.  God is love, and through my brokenness limitless love is poured.

It dawned on me this week that love is not based on perfection.  Love is about embracing the image of God in each and every individual despite their sins, flaws, and mistakes.  Love is about hope, and I am all about hope in a world that reeks with hopelessness.   I cannot promote a religion of perfection when I am so imperfect.  I believe that is hypocrisy.  Rather, I get to dance in the freedom of redemption.  Jesus was and is perfection, who laid Himself down to meet me in my dirt and brokenness.  He came to constantly fill me with love.  I know He’s there; I feel Him.  His love is extravagant.  I only hope that as I encounter people, I get close enough for His love to spill out and splash over them.

Life is a treasure hunt, and the treasure is the person next to me... I found a treasure during my layover.  Yay, for new friends! 

Treasure: Alyssa from Switzerland

The Journey (Part V)

My second semester of college was rough.  I was working two jobs, attending classes full time, and struggling to maintain 4.0's in all of my classes including Anatomy and Physiology.  By the time that I reached the half-way point in my semester, I felt like a living zombie.  I was exhausted and craving support, encouragement--anything.  Then I received a letter from my brother and shortly after that a phone call.  He and my dear sister-in-law wanted me to come visit them.  The thought of getting away seemed marvelous, but the thought of actually getting time off of work and away from my responsibilities seemed preposterous.  However, they kept offering, and finally I decided to take a leap of faith and follow my heart.

Miraculously, my coworkers were willing to cover my shifts while I was away, and the hope of a two week vacation gave me the extra boost of energy that I needed to fight through exam week and even get my 4.0's.  Once I finished my semester, I felt like I could breathe again, and deep within I felt that God was about to show me something incredible on my upcoming journey. 

Several days before I was scheduled to leave for Virginia, I checked my college e-mail account and discovered that the class I planned to take over the summer had been cancelled due to low enrollment.  At first I was aggravated because this was an essential class for me to take in order to keep in line with my plans for starting the nursing program.  However, Jeremiah 29:11 was fresh in my mind, "'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future,'" and I began to ask God whether He had something different in mind for me--obviously, He did!  Instantly, the thought of returning to Mozambique came to mind, but I decided to wait and pray before doing anything rash.

I left for Virginia excited to see my brother and his family and excited to see what God would do.  As I flew through the clouds that dark night, I had an overwhelming peace.  I opened my Bible to Acts and began reading about Paul getting ship-wrecked.  "When a good wind began to blow from the south, the men on the ship thought, 'This is the wind we wanted, and now we have it.' So they pulled up the anchor, and we sailed very close to the island of Crete.  But then a very strong wind named the “northeaster” came from the island.  The ship was caught in it and could not sail against it. So we stopped trying and let the wind carry us."  Clearly, God had a different plan for me beyond what I thought was best, so I decided to stop trying and let God carry me. 

Once I arrived in Virginia and was united with my brother, sister-in-law, and their beautiful children, I was overwhelmed by God's love through them.  I received physical rest and so much spiritual encouragement.  I loved the deep conversations with Josiah and Jenny.  The giggles, hugs, and kisses of my niece and nephew melted my heart.  I began sharing about the recent change of plans in my life and my desire to return to Mozambique.  Also, during that week, I received an e-mail from my missionary friends in Mozambique inviting me to come stay with and work alongside them.  After much prayer and long conversations, I left to return home with an unexplainable joy and a heart ready to take the necessary steps to return to Mozambique.  As an extra blessing, an unexpected financial gift was contributed to my endeavors.  God was opening doors, and I was eager to walk through them. 

Now it is August 24, 2013.  I am vaccinated and prayed up.  I have tickets in my name for Maputo, Mozambique, and visa complications have been worked out.  In three weeks, I will be leaving to spend eleven weeks working with the cancer patients at Hospital Central de Maputo, and you have come to the right spot to follow my journey.  My heart is overjoyed; Jesus is with me every step of the way, and this is just the beginning!   

The Journey (Part IV)

From the moment I stepped off of African soil and onto the plane that would fly me across the ocean and back to my homeland, my heart beckoned me to come back.  I knew that I had to or else my heart might explode.  I had never loved or felt loved as fully as I did in Mozambique, and I didn’t want to live another day of my life without that kind of love.   I took a sleeping pill as I settled into my seat and hoped that it would knock me out so that I wouldn’t feel the aching and longing in my heart.  However, as I look back, I see that it was the heartbreak and longing to do something about it that got me through some very rough times and kept me focused on finding hope.

I returned to the United States to face my senior year of high school, and the prospects of returning to Mozambique seemed quite bleak.  Yet, I buckled down and focused on the task before me.  For the first time, I poured myself into schoolwork and particularly my Allied Health class.  I was so excited to do hospital work experience rotations every week.  While I got to see and learn many things, I was especially drawn to the oncology floor.  I sensed desperation in the eyes of these cancer patients that I did not find in many of the hospital’s other patients.  I was determined to bring them hope.  Being with these cancer patients also reminded me of the many cancer patients that I fell in love with while in Mozambique.  These are the people that many medical professionals have given up on.  Often their families have given up on them, and sadly, many of these people have given up on themselves.  But, I cannot look into their beautiful faces and believe that God has given up on them; I know that God has hope for all of them.  As a vessel of God’s love, by faith, I desire to bring them hope.  I cannot give up on them. 

Senior year flew by, and I was faced with a new lesson.  I learned that in order to not give up on others, I had to not give up on myself.  It was springtime, I was graduating, and I had no idea what my next steps in life should be.  My memories of Africa were still tugging on my heart, but they seemed just out of reach.  I was lost and confused.  I wanted answers, and more than anything I wanted to escape the pressures of life.  My friends from school invited me to their graduation parties, and I began to taste what the world had to offer.  In the moment, I enjoyed the thrills and dangers of the reckless lifestyles many of my friends were living.  I wanted a taste of their world and before I knew it, they were welcoming me to join them.  My life seemed exciting for once with the prospect of boys, booze, parties, adrenaline, drugs, and temporary pleasures.  Flaws in my own heart, my church, and my friends left me questioning my faith.  I felt alone, and I was eager for the opportunity to belong. 

In attempts to find my place in life, I searched desperately for a job as I felt that was the next step for a high school graduate to take.  However, all of my job-hunting seemed to be futile.  By July of 2012, I still did not have a job, so when my mom asked me to volunteer at a Joni and Friends Family Retreat, I decided to do it.  Even though it had not originally been my plan, by the time I arrived at the camp, I knew that God wanted me to be there.  It was one of the best weeks of my entire life.  As I served individuals with special needs and their families, I was reminded of the life-changing difference found in living for love rather than temporary pleasures.  I smiled.  I laughed. I cried.  I prayed.  I loved.  In just one week, I saw how love began to transform lives.  I was paired with a six-year-old little girl that much of the world would have given up on, but together we helped change each other’s lives.  We saw each other’s beauty and gifts and sought to affirm them.  I left Joni and Friends Camp, feeling God’s extraordinary love for me just as I was and seeing that people are vessels of God’s love.  While God can pour out His love in many ways, often it can be found in communion with those filled with His love.  I realized the opportunity that I have to carry God’s love to those I come into contact with, and I realized my need to accept His love from others.  As I left camp, I offered my life completely to God. I trusted Him to lead me and love me no matter what.  I knew that without Him, I had no hope.   

 

The day after I returned home from camp, I got a call offering me a job at a senior home.  I celebrated my eighteenth birthday and began work the day after.  Immediately I fell in love with my residents, and in loving them, I fell even more in love with my Jesus.  Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, anything you did for even the least of my people here, you also did for me.”  To touch Jesus when I clipped toenails, changed smelly briefs, and bathed filthy individuals made it all worth it.  Furthermore, I became a much stronger person physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.  I learned so many new practical skills that allowed me to better care for the sick.  I became gentler and bolder.  And most importantly, I learned that I can only give what God has given me.  When I was burnout from caring for others and desperately wanted someone to hold me, I found Jesus’s arms, and they were constantly there to hold me. 

 

“It’s the song of the redeemed rising from the African plain.  It’s the song of the forgiven drowning out the Amazon rain.  The song of Asian believers filled with God’s holy fire.  It’s every tribe, every tongue, every nation—a love song born of a grateful fire.  It’s all God’s children singing ‘Glory, glory, hallelujah; He reigns…’”  A spur of the moment trip in the end of August 2012 found me singing these lyrics at my brother’s church in Laramie, WY.  Suddenly and out of nowhere, I heard God’s overwhelming voice beckoning me back to Africa.  While the prospect excited me as it was the deepest desire of my heart, the idea seemed preposterous.  I was scheduled to start my freshman year at college the following week, and I was torn between pursuing a degree in nursing which everyone was urging me to do or leaving everything and following God out on a limb.  Since I did not sense God’s peace in giving up college at that time, I dove into my studies.  I took two semesters of pre-nursing classes and while some of the subject matter was interesting, I absolutely hated school.  Between being a fulltime college student and working two jobs, some days I didn’t want to be living my life.  I was exhausted and lonely, but then I remembered God’s calling for me, and I didn’t give up.  I pressed on knowing that God had a plan for me and believing that He would bring me back to Africa one day.