I always knew I would marry an African.
I mean, it only makes sense seeing as I'm going to live in Africa someday.
Strangely enough, Africa has only really been on my heart for about 5 years now. Despite this, I feel like I've known and loved it all my life. My dream has been to be planted there, start a nonprofit, and adopt a bunch of babies…and eventually (if God wills it) marry an African (I hear husbands are good things to have if you want babies).
I actually didn't come on the World Race looking for a husband(apparently you're not supposed to). It just so happened that in Zimbabwe(the very first country on our route), our contact was a former racer who had married a Zimbabwean. They met on her race and fell in love, and eventually had a beautiful little girl named Njiva(After she finished her eleven months and they got married, in that order). This in itself should have warned me that anything is possible on this trip…
my amazing friend Jenni and her precious daughter, Njiva
About a week or so into ministry, I met my husband. He was related to one of the workers at the organization we were partnering with.
One day during lunch, one of the women asked me, “are you married?”
“well, no,” I replied.
She smiled knowingly and said, “You will marry a Zimbabwean!”
my smart aleck response was, “oh, really? Who?” and she pointed to her son.
I smiled at him.
He stared at me.
I understood his hesitancy. I mean…there IS a slight age difference.
His name is Alex. Every time his mother saw me, she would take him off of her back and hand him to me. “Here Anna, take your husband.” and then he would stay in my arms for the rest of the day.
I knew it was love. I knew because he peed on me every single day and I never wanted to put him down. I knew because all I wanted to do was kiss his snotty, drooly face and hug him while getting myself covered in God knows what. I knew it was love because I wanted to do everything in my power to make sure that he and every other child in that little town was fed and cared for and loved in the name of Jesus.
I'm on my sixth month of the World Race. I've been to six different countries and experienced all sorts of incredible cultures. I've met the most wonderful people, and I've been enchanted with each new place we've visited. However, only one holds my heart.
I belong in Africa, as surely and as certainly as I belong to Jesus. My love for Him and my love for this continent that He has created me for are inseparable. He has drawn me to Himself through Africa, and He has only increased my love for it as I've drawn nearer to Him.
I don't know what my life will look like after the race. I don't know who I'll marry, if anyone. What I do know is this; husband or no husband, one day my heart will go home to Africa.
