*Disclaimer: this blog gets slightly dramatic. It’s month seven! I’m allowed to have a rough week! Just wanted to warn you.
There is major effort involved in staying emotionally stable on the Race. If you think about home too much, get caught up in anticipating next month’s circumstances or allow yourself to dwell on the number of lice/mice that you’ve encountered in the year… well, things can start to look down.
Personally, I have prided myself in the state of my emotional health. Once I decided to really do this thing called the World Race, I’ve had no problem keeping my glass half full. Adventure! Babies! Jesus! Exotic cuisine! SKYDIVING! What’s not to love? Sure, I miss my family and friends, but I’ll see them soon, right?
Did I mention that I jumped out of a plane from 9,000 ft. in the air? It was awesome.
Well, maybe the Lord is giving me a lesson in humility, because the pride that accompanied my lack of breakdowns was officially thrown out of the window last week.
What were the ingredients in my recipe for disaster?
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A precious woman named Yolanda
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A sweet little girl named Chanté
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A brand-new angel of a baby named Hadley
Here’s how the ingredients mixed together:
Yolanda: If you read my last blog, you know Yola. She is cute, spunky, and she was my mom away from mom for a week. The problem with falling in love with Yolanda and her family was the eventual good bye.
After seven days of hot breakfasts, bear hugs and an adopted family, was I really expected to return to our camp style accommodations? I’m talking about a trek through the mud each time you want to go to the bathroom, freezing cold bunks at night and three teams sharing one pan for cooking.
Zeep, our nature reserve/camp grounds/home sweet home.
No thanks. Leaving the Petersens meant leaving the warmth of family that I have so desperately been missing. Still, I had to go.
Heartbreak #1.
Chanté: I told myself last month in Swaziland that I wouldn’t get attached to any more kids this year. Nope. Not gonna do it. Sure, I’ll teach. I’ll hug. I’ll even hand out tissues for runny noses. But I refuse to fall for one more sweet face.
The potential success of this goal lasted all of 20 seconds after meeting my preschoolers for VBS. As usual, one little girl especially stole my heart. Chanté was the smallest one in the class. At only 3 years old, she would daily run into my arms and look at me with these huge doe eyes. Her whole face would crinkle when she smiled, and I had to fight the desire to carry her on my hip 24/7.
Chanté lives at Olaft Farms, a small community of farm workers and their families. They basically live in makeshift shacks, and the kids get little care as their parents spend all day in the fields.
A visit to Olaft Farms for Wednesday night soup kitchen.
When we visit the farm, it is obvious how much violence is a part of the daily lives. The kids hit and punch without a second thought or a response to reprimands. From what we know, the kids see violence at home. They hurt each other at school. Abuse is a way of life, and it breaks my heart to see.
On the last day of VBS, I was holding Chanté on the playground when a 10-year-old boy walked up to me and asked,
“You like Chanté?”
“Of course I do! I love her.”
“She’s rude. I’m going to beat her up later.”
What struck me the most were not his words as much as the ease he had in saying them. All of a sudden, my mind was working at full speed. How many times has he heard someone say those words? How many times has he been the recipient of abuse for no reason? What if he really does hurt Chanté? There is nothing I can do. Where did the burns on her face come from? Lord, how do I change the thinking and actions of a whole community? Why would you put me here to love these kids if there is nothing I can do to protect them from harm?
Heartbreak #2.
My sweet angel.
Hadley Elizabeth: Anyone who is even an acquaintance of mine probably knows this single fact: I am mildly obsessed with my nieces and nephews. They were my medicine during the college years when I was having a tough day. A quick Lily hug could bring me out of any bad mood, and getting a belly laugh from Jackson was one of my constant goals. Addie, Ava, Asher… until I know the love of motherhood, there just won’t be a love for any kid that compares to how much I adore these precious babies.
Well. Gulp. My sister had baby number four last week. Her name is Hadley Elizabeth Senn, and she is perfect. Even typing this, I’m getting teary eyed. I should be there! She should have been in my arms on the day she took her first breath! I mean, just LOOK at this face. Lord, why am I in Africa again?
lily, (big sister extraordinaire) with sweet baby Hadley.
Thankfully, I was able to Skype with my sister on the day Hadley was born, but it didn’t lift the searing pain that was in my heart as I laid eyes on her via computer screen. I wanted that baby in my arms.
Heartbreak #3.
So in case you couldn’t guess where this blog was headed, let’s just say that some tears were shed in South Africa. And by some I mean lots. In Rachel's terms, I was a hot mess. I had the hardest week that I have yet to experience on the Race, and all I can say on the other side of it is this: God really does have me in His arms.
I so badly want to love on others, and this week, the Lord had people love on me. My team was wonderful in listening to the sadness, encouraging the release of the feelings and confirming that I am not, in fact, a crazy person for experiencing pain in such depth.
A portion of the best team in World Race history… hanging out at a sweet beach.
None of the heartbreaks that I experienced have been erased, but God gently reminded me that He is in control. His plan is perfect and intentional… and guess what?
Larissa and I are getting to spend the night at Yolanda’s house tonight.
Some of the older boys who live at the farm promised to take care of Chanté for me.
Skype exists… and I got to see THIS on Saturday.
