Soon after Jen was accepted on the World Race she told us about PVT. “You’ll get to come spend a week with me on the race. It’ll be awesome!” I had my doubts. Not about seeing my daughter after 8 months. That is the longest I’ve been separated from any of my girls. Not about visiting another culture in rural Ethiopia. I was long overdue to see how the other half of the world lives. My concerns were all travel related. Until two years ago I had never been outside the U.S., and then only to western English speaking countries. Traveling nearly 36 hours each way for a 5 day visit was not something I was looking forward to. But , there is nothing I wouldn’t do for any of my daughters and so off we went .
Now looking back, I can barely remember the 18 hours of plane travel, the layovers, or the 4 hour van ride to HOPEtheoipia . (Ok, I still remember the van ride. Mostly I remember thinking “Are we soon there?” and “I’m glad I’m not driving!”) So what do I remember ? I remember meeting some amazing young adults. I remember their stories. I remember how proud I was of who Jen has become. But what
Now looking back, I can barely remember the 18 hours of plane travel, the layovers, or the 4 hour van ride to HOPEtheoipia . (Ok, I still remember the van ride. Mostly I remember thinking “Are we soon there?” and “I’m glad I’m not driving!”) So what do I remember ? I remember meeting some amazing young adults. I remember their stories. I remember how proud I was of who Jen has become. But what
I’ll never forget are the people of Ethiopia. In and around the village of Harbu Chulule the people lived a simple and very humble life. They do without most of the things I would consider essential, like running water, electricity, climate controlled homes, and so much more that I take for granted. Despite all that they lacked and all they suffered they seemed open and friendly to me. The people of that village seemed to have joy that you don’t often see in wealthy communities in the United States.
There were several moments of joy that touched me. A group of parents were working on a rainy season drainage issue. The driveway entrance kept washing out. As we trenched, shoveled and hauled dirt and stone, many villagers passed by on the “main road”. Some were getting water from the missions well. Others were moving goods, usually by donkey. As we worked many of the children and some of the men pitched in and helped. They smiled and often laughed, appearing to be genuinely happy to help. For a short time we became neighbors, in the sense that Jesus would have used the word.
There were several moments of joy that touched me. A group of parents were working on a rainy season drainage issue. The driveway entrance kept washing out. As we trenched, shoveled and hauled dirt and stone, many villagers passed by on the “main road”. Some were getting water from the missions well. Others were moving goods, usually by donkey. As we worked many of the children and some of the men pitched in and helped. They smiled and often laughed, appearing to be genuinely happy to help. For a short time we became neighbors, in the sense that Jesus would have used the word.
Later in the week we went to the village market. I know that by some we were welcomed as wealthy white Americans. But by most we were just welcomed. The locals smiled, gave me hugs, and one little girl took my hand and walked with me through the market for almost an hour. (I was concerned she would lose her way but our guide assured me she would be fine.) No one begged for money. They didn’t seem to want anything from me. They were simply happy I was there in their community.
The third experience of joy took place in the mission itself. The children that live in HopEthiopia exude the joy of those who know they are loved. The smiles and laughter I will never forget. All orphans, most with heartwrenching stories and some with challenges that would depress the most stouthearted. But the love in their lives bubbled up in joy that lifts all. One day I spent a few hours with some of the children doing laundry. It will be a long time before I take clean clothes for granted. It was a blast. We laughed, joked and talked as we worked. I have worked with kids and youth much of my life and I have seldom been with children who showed joy the way these children did.
I’ve often heard that happiness comes and goes with the change in our circumstances but joy endures because it comes from within. But where does it come from? What is the source? I believe joy comes from knowing and believing that we are loved. Loved by the people around us, loved by those we care about, and loved by a God who humbled Himself and lived among us. How can people know we love them if we are not willing to walk in their shoes. This is what I learned on PVT. It is something Jesus showed me but I didn’t fully understand till my daughter dragged me, sorry, invited me to Ethiopia. With God’s help it is a lesson I’ll never forget.
