Standing with my back in a corner shoulders pressed against an old worn chalkboard, I look out over the sea of faces.
No less than 300 pairs of eyes look back at me, absorbing every word spoken, every movement made. After every translation a thunderous applause breaks out with shouts and cheers.
My mind shifts to scenes from Harry Potter, when Harry catches the snitch, the earth shattering applause after Griffindor won the house cup, the tri-wizard tournament flashes through my brain. These are scenes that catche my attention as a showing of pure joy.
The 300 pairs of eyes that looked back, smashed into a small classroom so close they were forced to stand and sit on top of each other (breaking every safety code in America’s classroom). They were tuned into a voice speaking from the Holy Spirit, passionately sharing the Gospel through words and pictures.
As I looked out over the faces, I saw how tightly packed some kids were. This image made me think of sardines stuffed into cans or cows desperately waiting to be milked, and all of a sudden, my breathing got heavy. I was standing far above all the bodies sitting on the floor, I could feel the breeze to my right, and I could see the open field just beyond the open door. Still, I felt like I was being pushed deeper into the room.
We sat in a circle around a dirty mat on the ground, a wooden bench holding the team in one place. All around us were people. Layers of people five and six deep; desperate to see the white people and hear them speak. As we sat under the shelter of palm leaves to protect us from the sun, all I could focus on were the bodies digging into my back. Hands touching my hair, a knee hitting my back as someone scratched their foot, breath on the back of my neck as someone whispered to their neighbor, bodies brushing up against me as the sixth layer tried to get in closer to the innermost circle.
It was too much. My breathing picked up again, my heart rate rapidly increased, and I needed space. I looked around in a panic of how I could get to the air outside of all the bodies. I was desperate to step into the sunlight and breath without feeling like a brick was sitting on my chest. No matter how many times I slid forward on the bench, leaned back in hopes of creating space and asked the kids to back up through hand motions, the space was only getting tighter.
Claustrophobia came to my mind as I felt stuck and unable to get out. I felt overwhelmed by people I am supposed to love, by the kids that I so wanted to snatch up and share God’s love and joy with. I needed to get away, to find space to clear my chest and my mind.
My escape came through prayer. Praying around the homes to calm my breathing down and center my mind back to the here and now. My mind drifted to a favorite place. A meadow in the Alps, filled with long green grass and edelwiss overlooking the town far below. Sitting so high on the mountain, I felt the cool air blowing across my face and the warm sun soaking through the sleeves of my shirt. Over and over I hummed the song Edelweiss from Sound Of Music trying to control my breathing and feeling the grass on my feet grounding me back to the meadow. My breath was coming easier the longer I was in the meadow forgetting all the people around.
In no way has Africa been easy. Each day we wake up to face challenges, some of them are ‘easy’ picking around the chicken foot in the greens at dinner time and others are much harder. In the last month we have had team changes, crossing the ocean to a whole new continent of countries each with their own unique cultures. We have learned how to use squaty potties, sleep through all night worship and prayer sessions next door and we have learned some French and the local dialect Baoule. Each day is an adventure, some are better than others and when the days are hard I have been learning how to lean on the women around me.
THtis is month I have been learning what love looks and feels like around the world, in Côte d’Ivoir, love is constantly being around, touching hair and skin.
“Do no fear for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.” —Isaiah 43:1-2
Thank you to some one very generous coworkers for adopting the Côte d’Ivoire jar, it has been a month of firsts and a month of never forgets.
