This is my first time in Africa. I have dreamt of going since I was 5 years old. I feel as though my heart has always been pulled to Africa. At first it was for the animals here as I used to want to be a vet and only watched Animal Planet or Discovery Channel. This passion quickly died after volunteering at the zoo for a summer.
My heart to go to Africa has not waned all these years. And my heart to be here now encompasses more than just a love for the animals. I love the heartbeat of this country. I love the people, their clothing patterns, their roots in their cultural identity and rejection of some of the Western or the more convenient ways of life, their rhythm, and their voice. I fell in love the first day I was here. I love the church services. I’ve cried every service. We have a time of singing hymns together as a church and then we enter into about an hour of performances from the church choirs. They have choirs for every age in the church. LITERALLY. All choirs sing praises about the character and works of God. They open their mouths and sing through every circumstance with their eyes gazed upwards.
The family that we live with fully embraces this culture.
One of my favorite moments on the race happened the other night. In our little compound that consists of the pastor’s house, his little office, and the church, we have 2 guards that watch over us and our property day and night. Kate gave Isaac and Emmanuel, the guards, and the pastor her guitar for the night. While the men were outside singing, all of the women were inside eating dinner together, conversing through broken English and charades, and sharing life…it was magical.
After dinner I went outside to listen to the music. Pastor Adam was playing guitar and singing a Swahili song he taught me earlier that day titled “Yahweh.”
I asked if I could get my drum and join them.
We sat outside in our dirty clothes, probably a little stinky because we haven’t showered in a few days—but we all do so it’s hard to recognize the smell, our feet covered in dirt, seated around heated charcoal trying to keep warm, the stars shining bright above our heads, and we played and sang hymn songs- they in Swahili and us in English. It was organic, and one of the most beautiful moments of community and worship I’ve experienced.
I wonder if that’s how community and worship has looked like in the past. You share life together, you sit in the dirt, maybe a little stinky, but with thankful hearts of praise we sing to the One who alone can be called Worthy.
**Financial Update: I am fully funded! When I first applied to go on the Race, I didn't know how I could raise the funds for this trip. I tried to work as much as I could and it still wasn't enough. I surrendered the idea that I had to raise everything myself- work harder, support raise harder, more jobs, etc… And I allowed God to be God. He is Provider. He blessed me through others and in ways I couldn't dream of. I am in awe. I don't know why I doubt my God who is always faithful.
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to everyone who has supported me on this journey! This is only the beginning.
