Day 3ish: A Blessing or A Curse?

So I've been less than consistent blogging this week. Part of this has to do with the fact that I overschedule myself, part has to do with the fact that I have too high of expectations when it comes to blogging, and part has to do with the fact that I've been busy with my first week of preschool.

That's right, friends. Twice a week I'm sitting in a Catholic church and learning colors, numbers, and that playdoh is NOT for eating. I can already count to 10 without help and that makes me the star of the class.

Okay, seriously - I'm attending preschool as part of my job as an aide for a little girl with cerebral palsy. She is in a classroom with 10 other 2-and 3-year-olds, all of whom are able-bodied and, so far as I can tell, completely typical. She actually had the opportunity to attend a preschool through the public school system with other children with special needs, but her parents thought she was a little young and we all thought it would be a huge advantage for her to be around typical children in an inclusive classroom setting.

It has been really beautiful to watch those 10 other children reach out to her. Part of it is curiosity, yes, but part of it is the acknowledgment that even with a walker and leg braces and eyes that don't line up - she is just like them. She loves to give hugs and play with shaving cream and blow kisses and shake the maracas in music class.

And of course they have questions - why does she have that chair? Why does she wear that? Why can't she walk? And her teachers and I answer those questions in the most age-appropriate way we can, always reminding the kids that God made all of us different and that's okay.

Of course, that's not at all the view of disabilities in other parts of the world, including Africa. Consider:

The Kiswahili word for disabled is kiwete — part of the object class of nouns, a thing, a diminutive, not a human being.

That is a line from an article from a couple of years ago about the situation that exists for disabled children across Africa. There is a movement now for inclusion of special needs children in the schools there, but for many years, they were shunned, hidden away, the skeleton in the closet.

These children are considered cursed by the gods and spirits for the sins of their fathers and mothers, a source of shame for their families. They receive few, if any, services and are often abused, neglected, or abandoned. And maybe worst of all, they are raised to believe they are unworthy of all the opportunities and advantages their siblings and neighbors enjoy.

It makes me sad for those children and just as sad for their families. In a culture where a special needs child is a mark of shame, some parents may never get past that to understand just how beautiful that child is, how full of potential. They will never understand the joy of the small gains and the way a hard-earned smile can light up a room and bless a day.

And so I encourage you to do a little research and a lot of praying.

Pray for the families with special needs children, that they might be courageous in the face of cultural beliefs to love their children wildly and radically.
Pray that legislators, parents, teachers, activists come face-to-face with these children and all the potential they embody - and that they make bold decisions and push for access for children with special needs.
And pray that all over Africa and all over the world, people with be raised up with special hearts for these most precious children of our Father.

Because once your heart is touched by these kids, you will never ever be the same.

(Me and the tiny BFF on her first day of preschool)

For further research:

Comfort the Children International - An organization with a home in Mai Maihu, Kenya that serves mothers and their disabled children

Naro Moru Disabled Children's Home - A children's home in Kenya with the goal of rehabilitating disabled children so they can be integrated into society as much as possible

Compassion International - Sponsor a child. You can even specify a child who is mentally or physically handicapped

Day 2: And You Thought Being Homosexual in America Was Tough

Let me say upfront that I don't really know where I stand on the gay rights issue. I have a Human Rights Campaign sticker on the back of my car, there before I became a Christ-follower. And to be honest, I haven't really re-evaluated my feelings on the subject - a fact that my mentor called me out on a couple of months ago.

And because this is a sensitive subject, let me make myself clearer: I don't know how I feel about the politics of homosexuality - civil unions v. marriage, health benefits, end-of-life decisions and other rights. I know exactly how I feel about homosexuals: I love you. Period. I love you whether it's nature or nurture, whether you're still in the closet or out in the open, whether you are happy or wish every day it could be different.

And because I love you, and because you are human, I believe you deserve basic respect and rights and opportunities. I believe you are entitled to life and safety and the freedom to make your choices just like anybody else.

Which is why what is going on in Uganda is particularly troubling to me. In an effort to reduce the incidences of HIV/AIDS, the country is trying to pass legislation making homosexuality illegal and, in some cases, punishable by death. (First of all, let's not overlook the wrong assumption that AIDS is a "gay disease.")

Here is an excerpt from a really great article, which sums up the Ugandan legislation better than I could ever hope to:

The Ugandan legislation in its current form would mandate a death sentence for active homosexuals living with HIV or in cases of same-sex rape. "Serial offenders" also could face capital punishment, but the legislation does not define the term. Anyone convicted of a homosexual act faces life imprisonment.

Anyone who "aids, abets, counsels or procures another to engage in acts of homosexuality" faces seven years in prison if convicted. Landlords who rent rooms or homes to homosexuals also could get seven years and anyone with "religious, political, economic or social authority" who fails to report anyone violating the act faces three years.

I encourage you to read the entire article HERE. It is particularly interesting and troubling to note that Uganda is not the first to consider or pass such legislation, and it will certainly not be the last.

I think I've certainly gotten in over my head again in terms of subject matter. In short, I don't know if it's God's perfect will for anybody to be gay. I do know, however, that condemning people and threatening death is never going to be a way to show them God's love.

I think all we can do is pray, friends. For the legislators in Uganda and across Africa who see these laws as a way to regulate disease or morality or both. For the people in those countries who are affected by these laws. And for the Christ-followers who come into contact with them every day with the opportunity to show them love and respect and compassion.

And maybe we should do a little searching of the Father's heart ourselves on this. Because when it comes to loving and redeeming and freeing people, no one does it better than Him.

Day 1: A (Really) Brief Look at How Imperialism Shaped Africa

I was in the middle of a blog about Darfur, about to explain the history of Sudan when I realized that what I was going to say would apply to a lot of Africa. I decided that perhaps starting day 1 with a history of imperialism in Africa would be more appropriate. It seems a good introduction and very necessary background for the rest of the month.

The first reaction a lot of people have had upon hearing that I want to go to Africa is, "Is it safe?" This is not an altogether unfounded question - the history of Africa in the 20th century has been, generally speaking, one of violence, upheaval, and tragedy. However, one would have to look a little further back to understand the true reasons for this.

European exploration began in the late 1700s, and a fair portion of northern Africa was mapped by the early 1800s. It didn't take long for Europeans to realize that the continent was ripe with resources (think gold, copper, diamonds, rubber and more). That, coupled with medical and technological advances that made the travel through Africa possible, created what is known as the "Scramble for Africa."

In 1884, The Berlin Conference was called with the intention of setting guidelines for African Colonization. (And as I'm sure you guessed, Africans weren't invited.) The Conference, among other things, set up "spheres of influence" where major European powers could exert their claim to African territories. Their agenda for splitting the continent was absurd. Lines were drawn with no consideration for indigenous people groups, the majority of whom had already drawn their own lines and worked out their own peace accords.

African colonies began their fights for independence after World War II, with the majority of Africa gaining independence by the late 1960s (there were a few stragglers). It is here that the long-term effects of imperialism are seen.

In some cases, civil wars erupt because countries that Europe created involved vastly different cultures and European rule had only exacerbated the differences (see: Sudan). In some cases, civil wars erupt because European rule actually involved creating upside down power structures, where ethnic minorities were given all the power and opportunities, while ethnic majorities were oppressed (see: Rwanda), creating all sorts of animosity and trouble when Europe pulled out.

And those countries lucky enough to have stable governments post-colonialism struggle to feed their citizens and watch as their countrymen die in famines. These famines occur because of drought, certainly, but also because Africans were forced into growing cash crops such as cotton and tobacco, to the detriment of their own food crops. Even after European rule was gone, African farmers continued to supply Europe with their "needs," while maintaining only small subsistence plots for themselves - and growing food that they hardly learned to cultivate during the prior 100 years.

In short, the history of Africa has played out like the history of most of the developing world: The First World (that's us, folks) was built on the blood, sweat, and tears of the Third World. Every major "gain" for industrialism and capitalism was at a great cost for those we considered to be inferior.

Do I consider this to be an exhaustive look at how imperialism shaped the Africa we know today? Certainly not. In fact, I'm a little embarrassed at how little it really dives into the issues. Luckily, we have another 30 days to dive in deep. At the very least, I hope this gave you a little more insight into how modern Africa was formed and will make the next 30 days a little easier to understand.

Until tomorrow, friends. Love.

31 Days of Africa: A Few Disclaimers Before We Start

I'm really no different than you - just a kid who is trying to figure out what is going on in Africa. Trying to figure out how so beautiful a continent became so troubled, trying to figure out where my place is in all of it.

That said, this blog shouldn't be your sole source of information about Africa. I'm guaranteed to make mistakes, misinterpret evidence, omit citations, and let my own feelings get in the way of objectivity. If you're expecting college-style essays with peer-reviewed sources, you will be sorely disappointed. I really just want this blog to be a jumping-off point for all of us - something to highlight our misconceptions and ignorance and push us into a better understanding of our African brothers and sisters.

It is in that understanding that compassion can be fostered, passions can be ignited, and change can occur.

Thanks for taking the journey with me, friends.

The Bad News: 31 Days of Poor Writing

I wish I were better at blogging. I have some dear friends who are doing some super awesome blogging experiments. They're writing every day about things that matter to them, even when they'd rather not write.

I think the best part of this for me as a reader is learning about the hearts of these friends. Learning those things that perhaps they can't always say out loud, because they are awkward or silly or just don't come up. It is fantastic to see, little by little, the hearts of these women and realize that they are so much bigger and complex than any one of them might let on to in a given day.

It also got me thinking. I have always loved writing, and as painful as going to back to read some of that writing is at times, it is nice to have a record of where I've been and where I'm going. So I'd like to write more - even on days when it's not appealing or when I'm not really feeling it. I think having a solid purpose will encourage that.

I also started wondering if my blog did a good job of sharing my heart for Africa and missions. Perhaps it does at times, but as a whole, I think it does a better job of sharing the dark, selfish parts of my heart. So perhaps by forcing myself to focus on those outward-pouring parts of my heart, I can forget those dark parts, or at least leave them behind a little more often.

So I've decided to begin 2010 with a month-long blog project. 31 days of Africa. Every day, a different story of something that's going on currently in Africa, a profile of a missionary I know who is in the field, a little history to provide some perspective.

I promise nothing, but maybe by the end of January, we'll all have a better idea of what's going on across that continent that has captured my heart. (And perhaps my writing will get better, too.)

Approaching the Heart of God

I have found myself in the past year looking in on the two sides of adoption. This is, at times, a privilege - the ability to see a complete story, to know that on the other side of a tremendous sacrifice is a family that is made complete. It is beautiful to see the way that our loving Father perfectly orchestrates the process - for example, a baby with a strict diet given to chemist parents who are un-phased by measuring foods to the gram and thrive on schedules and routine.

It is more often, however, heart-wrenchingly difficult. Difficult to watch and know that on the flip side of every happy family is a mother whose heart is breaking. I sat with my friend Beth this year in the hospital, held her beautiful daughter, cried with her, and watched as she made the most loving, self-sacrificing decision anyone could possibly choose. This decision was all the more difficult because my friend is someone who could have absolutely raised her little girl. But she chose to give her daughter more - opportunities, financial security, a big sister, two parents who were ready to be parents.

And that decision hurt - it hurt her to make and it hurt me to watch. It hurts to watch now as months later, she continues to grieve that broken place in her heart. She knows, as do I, that God will work this into a beautiful story that will glorify Him in the most spectacular of ways. Unfortunately, that is a process, and one that is probably lengthy and more painful than I could possibly imagine.

But I can't help to think that in those times when Beth's heart is breaking and grieving the most, she is closer to understanding the heart of God than I will ever be. She understands to a degree I never will the kind of sacrifice God made when He put Jesus on that cross. She understands what it means to love a child so much that you are willing to lay down your own heart's desires so that they might have life to the fullest.

Thank you, God, for Your sacrifice that I may live. And thank you for Beth, that I may understand a little bit more the kind of love you have for us.

Simplify

(I meant to write this blog and try this experiment a week ago with the beginning of Advent. As usual, life got in the way, so we shall begin today.)

I have been meaning for quite some time to de-clutter my life. This is as much a spiritual and emotional statement as it is a physical one, but I think the physical act is in so many ways the first step. It clears your mind (not to mention your house) to give you space and new perspective on what is really necessary.

I am learning that I hold on to a lot things to have them "just in case." Just in case I lose a few pounds, just in case I ever go back to school, just in case I get married, just in case I ever need that collection of turtle figurines. I do this with emotional and spiritual things, too - hold onto this coping mechanism or that, refuse to give up this part of my heart, "just in case." Just in case the going gets rough, just in case I need it. Which is to say, "Just in case God doesn't come through."

Maybe that statement shocked you, but I can't be any more direct to the heart of the matter. I keep physical, emotional, spiritual things cluttering my life because I do not trust God to keep His promises. To redeem me, to provide, to be merciful and loving, to be absolutely everything that I need. I think if we're all honest with ourselves, we'll find that a lot of our "stuff" is really a back-up plan "just in case."

Here's the reality of my situation: God has given me everything I need (and much more) for now. Why should I not trust that He will give me everything I need tomorrow, or a week from now, or a year from now when my situation changes? My building up treasures and storehouses here on earth is doing nothing but diverting my attention from my true Provider. It is me telling God that I don't trust Him quite enough to get rid of the back-up plans and extra things that provide the illusion of safety and security and comfort.

So here's the challenge (and maybe you'd like to join in): Every day of Advent, I'm getting rid of seven things. (Maybe more!) These might be seven pieces of clothing, books, trinkets, games, whatever. The point is, I want to spend this season getting back to the basics and learning what is really necessary.

The Lord said to her in reply, "Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things. There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part and it will not be taken from her."
Luke 10:41-42