Thursday, December 8, 2011

In My Heart There is Zambia...

I had several dreams last night.  In one I dreamed that Felix (one of the Zambian interpreters from Hope Church) came to visit my church in America.  He was talking with several of my friends at the front of the sanctuary.  I walked up to say hello and was greeted with all of the usual "Mbuya" warmth.  I miss Zambia.  In another dream I went to Zambia (but it looked like the backyard of the house where I grew up).  When I realized that I was in Zambia, I fell to the ground weeping and buried my face in the grass because... I miss Zambia.  

A few weeks ago the Pastor at my church, Ron, showed the dance team a slide show of the orphan school in Zambia.  Ron took me to Zambia a year and a half ago; he took me to Zambia again that night.  I recognized several children and some adults.  I couldn't help but cry... because I love Zambia

When I was in Greece this spring, all I could talk about was Zambia... because in my heart is Zambia! "For the mouth speaks out of that which fills the heart." (Matt. 12:34). 

The people are beautiful.  The children, dirty, hungry, and sometimes sick, are beautiful.  I remember the little boy that smelled of urine who fell asleep in my lap, during the soccer tournament.  He slept for nearly an hour--probably the safest, and most comfortable sleep he'd had in a long time.  The older boys kept trying to wake him.  I remember that I smelled of urine too after he got up.  It was so worth it.   The little girls had a field day with my long golden locks of hair, little girls who had no hair to speak of.  When they got done, my hair was knotted and dirty.  I think they are still my favorite hair stylists.  I remember the girls of Nalulau taking me swimming!  I remember having to press past the shock of everyone else running around naked... I remember the women teasing me for days.  I want to go back there.  Swimming with them was an honor. 

I remember expecting to face hopelessness in Zambia.  I remember what I saw in Zambia... When I looked into their eyes, I saw all the beauty of God's dreams for them.  I saw destiny in the eyes of the boy who probably wouldn't live to be an adult.  I saw beautiful plans, plans to prosper and not to harm, plans for freedom, in the eyes of the girl who was abused.  I could only see what God has for them, the dreams that He dreamed before the world began, the hope that He still has.  I saw the beauty in the ashen sand. 

"Dear God, When will it be time to go back?  Love, Me."

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