These are the last pictures I will ever have in this house:
I wish I was kidding. I really wish this blog was titled to get reads, or to make people interested.
But the home I grew up in for 19 of my 22 years, the home I slept in, ate in, rebelled in, and found God in is gone.
This month we are doing a lot of things. You all read about the crazy four day travel day we had to Tanzania. Well, we had two days off and then we were bused off to six villages for four days. We were split into teams of two, with one team of three.
Anyways, you can read more about that in the next blog. But at the beginning of the trip, I received a text message from my mom. Often times her messages get cut off, so I thought nothing of it ending abruptly and I responded with a positive tone.
I got a message back that she was surprised I could be so positive. It went on to ask if I had got her message about our house burning down.
Um, No! I didn’t.
Now, imagine the scene.
Emily, Jessica, Jake, Matt, our translators and I on yet another African bus.
We have our bags in our laps, and have no room to breathe.
I am praying and getting ready to spend four days evangelizing and living in a mud hut.
And then I find out that the only home I have known is gone.
And then phone service disappears.
To be honest, I was numb. I still kind of am. I mean, every Christmas, Thanksgiving and major event in my life has pretty much happened in that place.
And the only thing I could practically do, be there for my parents, was taken away from me because I was in the bush of Africa with no phone service and no internet.
And as much as that sucked, it made me rely on God. It made me pray, and pray, and pray. I mean, I didn’t lose much in the fire. I moved out of that house a few years ago, but all of my high school stuff was there. All of my baby pictures, school pictures, awards, and my high school diploma were there. All the things my now dead Grandma had given me were there.
And now they are gone.
I just wanted to update you guys on what is happening. I have known that I would miss some important stuff while I was traveling the world for Jesus. I knew my Grandma would die this year. I knew that something horrible could happen, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. But knowing that and living through it are not the same thing.
So please pray for my parents.
Please pray for their insurance to continue to take care of everything.
Please pray that I keep focused, because I have less than 50 days until I am on U.S. Soil again.
But, please also praise God for sparing their lives. My parents could have been home when this happened. God saved their lives, and I am forever grateful that I do not have to grieve my parents and my Grandma on the field.
Oh, and for future World Racers: Dealing with this stuff from the field is HARD. But I have learned that rushing home and leaving ministry behind is not the answer. At least, it hasn’t been for me. Because being there would help me, but would it help my family to see me for two days and then lose me again? Just some thoughts for you guys specifically.
The blog about living in the African village is coming soon.
Thanks for all the encouragement and love I have gotten over the last 10 months.
It means more than you know.
And thank you so much for leaving comments! Every one of them makes me smile.
