Dear Africa,
I’ll miss the way people embraced love from strangers. How people came together to celebrate differences and where people cry out to God in desperation because they believe that He is good. I’ll miss how the people lose shame and worship freely and taught us to do the same. I won’t forget how people leave their homes and family for months at a time in order to share the gospel with those who have not heard it. I’ll miss how the children ran and held our hands everywhere we went. I won’t forget the hard work of men who are in the farming and fishing industries and the hard work of women who carry water, food, and wood on their heads as well as take care of the children and home. I’ve seen a man who had been badly burned persevere through the pain with minimal medical care and continue working harder than ever for his family.
I’ll miss hearing the children chanting Yevu Yevu bon sois. (Yevu means white person). I’ll miss hearing children sing songs we taught them and the songs they taught us. Hearing the honking of the ice cream man and then eat ice cream out of a little bag. I’ll miss hearing the drums in worship being played in a small village without fear of offending or waking up neighbors. I’ll miss praying with strangers in the markets on the streets here and the beauty of encouraging one another. We sang our national anthem and the Togolaise people sang their national anthem. Wow! The amount of pride and unity that brought for everyone! I’ll miss meeting random people on the road and becoming friends. I’ll miss the hospitality and generosity of the people here. I’ll miss washing my feet at least ten times a day because we walked on the dirt roads all day. I’ll miss watching people carrying things on their head and their children on their back. I’ll miss eating chocolate spread and peanut butter every morning for breakfast, driving and there not really being any lanes because you are constantly swerving to miss the potholes, and getting caught in a rain storm when the whole sky opens up. The wildest storms happen here. And you can’t forget playing goat or child. Is it a goat screaming or a child screaming? Sometimes it’s both.
I’ve watched people become free from things of their past and from fears of the future. I’ve seen God heal my teammates from serious sicknesses and redeem time that seemed lost. I’ve see people healed from pain in their bodies including a broken thumb. I have watched our hosts engage in their passions while loving and celebrating the people in their communities. I’ve watched tangible ways to give privilege away and have laughed harder and found more joy.
I’ve learned to give more grace to the people in my life and how to freely invite people into my life. I’ve learned thankfulness for the little things you don’t even think about back home. I’ve learned how to write a sermon in an hour and then preach that in front of a bunch of people. I’ve learned more about the Holy Spirit and I’ve learned more about God’s heart for justice. I literally taught at a bible school about justice-who am I? I’ve learned that my gifts and abilities are important even when I doubt them. I’ve learned that distraction is everywhere and it is not worth losing the opportunity to be present with the people around you.
I am still learning about walking in the wilderness and about new wine. I am learning how to let go of fears and how to speak boldly because my voice matters. I am learning how to sit in God’s presence always and I am learning how to celebrate with people thousands of miles away back home. Africa, you have taught me a lot. You have shown me beauty in ways I can’t quite explain.
As I sit at an airport waiting to head to Asia, I can’t help but reflect on my time here. Living the last three months in West Africa has been one of the greatest memories of my life.
So, bye Africa I’ll miss you dearly.
