This is a continuation of my ongoing series that highlights one person from each month’s ministry. For the rest of the series, click here.
Mama Rose
A mother’s heart is the same across international boundaries. Mothers give themselves fully to their children, consider sacrifices for the sake of their children a joy, love unconditionally, always know what is needed for their children, and carry themselves with honor and dignity. On the World Race, your parents are thousands of miles away. Your squad coaches, who function as your World Race “parents,” are also thousands of miles away, with the exception of Debrief. No matter how old you are while on the Race, sometimes you just need parental figures directly involved in your life.
Insert Mama Rose.
Our Malawian contact, Pastor Gama, greeted us with joy and enthusiasm as soon as we met him. “I’m happy to see you, my five new daughters. Mama Rose is at home now, but she can’t wait to meet you as well!” Pastor Gama spoke only good things about his beloved wife, excited for us to meet her. After hours of driving, we pulled into their driveway. Mama Rose was at our van to greet us, even before we all stepped out.
She only spoke Chichewa, with some English words.
We only spoke English, with some Chichewa words.
Thankfully, love does not need a language to be spoken.
During our month in Malawi, Mama Rose truly became our African mama. She was everything that a mama should be, aside from being our own flesh and blood. She was a humble servant, always putting us and our needs before her and her comfort.Almost every meal that we ate during our time in Zomba was cooked by Mama Rose, after she spent time buying our groceries for us. Every meal at home was prayed for as a family. We couldn’t eat until Mama Rose & Pastor Gama came over to us to pray together. Upon hearing that we liked when she cooked certain foods, she made them more often, simply to make us happy. When our clothes were dirty, it was her, her children, and grandchildren who washed them by hand–in addition to all of their regular laundry. It was Mama Rose who took us to an open-air market one of our first days in Malawi to help us pick out authentic Malawian wrap skirts. We put the skirts on right away in the market, but upon arriving at home, Mama Rose’s pride and joy in us as her daughters grew. The smile on her face lit up the whole room as she squealed with joy. “You are Malawian now!” When three of our team were sick, she insisted on praying for us before we left for the clinic. Whenever we left the house, she welcomed us home with hugs and smiles, asking how our day had been. Mama Rose was very quiet because of the language barrier, but as the month went on, we spoke more and more, no longer ashamed of her broken English. She was reserved, but when she spoke, people listened. Mama Rose completed Bible school years before we ever knew her, but this knowledge was put on display when she preached to a group of pastors and their wives. There was no translation for what she spoke, but power and authority don’t need to be translated.
The day that we left Zomba, we all tried to not cry. That mentality only worked until we had to say goodbye to Mama Rose. Our arms wrapped around her for one last time, tears filled our eyes, and words other than, “I love you” became too heavy to speak. Our month in Malawi was a month where my entire team felt at home. We never would have felt at home in such a deep way if Mama Rose was not involved in our lives. Her gentleness was made evident to all; her love touched the deepest parts of our souls; her beautiful smile welcomed us into her family forever.
