A Toast to Africa

Three months in Africa have come to an end. I could talk about those months for hours on end, but I’ll keep it relatively short. So gather ‘round, fill your glasses or grab your bread, favorite toppings, and the toaster you carry in your pack. It’s time for some toasts.

Here’s to Africa, to each smothering grain of sand and the sweltering sun; to every mosquito, cockroach, and fly.

Here’s to planting seeds in the fertile soils of Livingstone and in the hearts of young and old alike.

Here’s to being hailed by taxis and to taxis breaking down.

Here’s to the ones I taught who, at risk of being cliché, taught me endlessly more.

Here’s to braids. So many braids.

Here’s to the wonder of being the vessel through which someone hears the Christmas story for the first time.

Here’s to every look that screamed “do you know what on earth is happening?” exchanged between teammates.

Here’s to every teenage girl with whom I got to share all the things I wish I’d known about the Father’s heart for me at thirteen.

Here’s to “you’ll always have a home here.”

Here’s to trees.

Here’s to freedom and all the gifts that help us experience it more fully; to jumping off bridges, to preaching sermons, to seeking others for prayer.

 

Here’s to mornings of wonder, melting into afternoons of service.

Here’s to complete disconnection from home and the rest of the squad in order to most fully connect in Seronga, Botswana.

Here’s to living next to a hippo; to scheduled and unscheduled power outages alike; to showers under the stars.

Here’s to morning meetings with one sweet mama all month long; to her hunger for truth that made me hungry for more.

Here’s to sand in everything; to permanently damp tents; to moldy pillows.

Here’s to leaving things behind.

Here’s to culture shock in neighboring countries; to tastes of home in unexpected places.

Here’s to the dreamers who dreamt and did and shared their hearts so willingly.

Here’s to being welcomed like family; to “we love you, we love you, we love you;” to testimony and encouragement that imparts true courage; to dancing all ‘round the church, and to being to vessel through which someone finally hears a real “CNN accent.”

Here’s to Romanina food in the African bush.

Here’s to the kids – so many kids – so full of hope, light, and life for the future.

Here’s to the Milky Way; to dancing under it and ‘round a fire with teammates and locals and Romanians too.

Here’s to every ministry I couldn’t photograph; here’s to every moment I didn’t need to photograph for it is unforgettable enough on its own.

Here’s to the nshima; to the fat cakes; to toast and homemade mango jam.

Here’s to allergic reactions to mangoes; here’s to eating them anyway.

Here’s to rejoicing and learning to do that no matter what.

Here’s to abundance in the midst of nothing; to learning fullness in every season.

Here’s to all the things not in this toast; to too much for words to express.

So grab your Nalgene. Fill it with some filtered water that will probably still give you diarrhea. Or grab something better.

Africa, here’s to you.