Past, Present, Future

     You may have noticed that I have taken on a more reflective mindset recently... That is because with less than 7 short weeks before this chapter in Ethiopia comes to a close, I find myself looking back on all that God has brought me through this year. Some of my greatest joys and deepest sorrows have taken place over the last 365 days as God has taught me what it is to love without limits and serve selflessly. 

     Even reflecting back on the year, preparing for what it will look like to close this chapter and open the next, I still see the great deal that remains ahead of me in the next 6.5 weeks. As I look at what is to come, I cannot help but see the extreme hurt and abundant joy that I am preparing to experience. Thoughts of allowing my little girl to enter he new life, away from me. The excruciating idea of saying "goodbye" to the boys that have filled my heart with their smiles, hugs, and laughter. The reality that I will hop on a plane in a few short weeks not knowing what God has in store for my future beyond Ethiopia. Now, you'd think with the story and unknowns accompanying my journey to Ethiopia I would be assured and content in the unknown, yet I remain human and wonder if I will ever be able to come back. 

     Even still, right along the hurt and sadness that will embody the coming weeks, there is abundant joy for what is to come. Joy at the thought of being back with my family. Joy in a year spent right where God wanted me, full of memories, love, and transformation. Joy in the thought of going into a grocery store and buying any food my heart desires. Joy in the ease of life and comforts of home. Joy in knowing clean feet are just weeks away. Joy in the fulfillment that comes with knowing that dreams can become reality and nothing is impossible with God. 

     Right now, as I find myself living simultaneously in the past, present, and future, I am loving life. Loving what I have been through, loving where I am now, and loving what I see ahead. If only I could figure out how to have it all, forever and always. And yet, that is not what God called me to. For this year, He called me to Ethiopia. But not forever... At least not that I know of yet. And when I leave this place and step both feet back onto American soil God will have a new mission for me. This time, something a little less extravagant than spending a year in a developing Third World country, and yet equally as important in my walk with Him and equally as important in bringing the Kingdom of God just a little bit closer to earth.  

A Sweet Sabbath

     What a fabulous sabbath day it has been! Today were the Ethiopian elections where they voted on a Prime Minister to serve the next 5 years in office. For us feringes, that meant laying low and staying home while the chaos ensued around us. Soddo stays pretty calm in general so I am sure there was nothing to worry about, but the caution remained the same. 

     Mid-morning Little Miss and I went over to our neighbor's to enjoy Sunday tea. One conversation led to another and it was 3:30pm by the time we left. It is amazing to me how God brings people into our lives in the most unexpected ways to us, and yet totally masterminded and planned in advance by Him. These dear friends have walked beside me for quite a few months serving as mentors, fellow missionaries, neighbors, and the dearest of friends. I count knowing them to be a blessing, and am so thankful that the next step for both of us leave us only a few hours apart. I see some road trips in my future! 

     This afternoon I started packing. Yes, PACKING! Next month, the month of June, I will move to my 4th and final house in my Ethiopian stay. The compound I live on now will be pretty empty and being a bit closer to town and nearer the missionary community brought on my decision to uproot one final time here. Missionaries who have headed home for the summer willingly opened up their house for me, and so I will wrap up my stay there. But that means packing up. The house I am in now (house #3) was my first ever home of my very own. Not many people get to say that their first house was in Africa, but I do! However, come Thursday I will say goodbye to this house, goodbye to life on the Tarapaza compound, and goodbye to the purple couches I have come to love. And with that I will be saying hello to my last full month here, hello to life a bit closer to town, and hello to hot showers! With 3 days and counting, Mission Move is a go.

     Caution: this side note contains material that may not be suitable for those with a weak stomach or who have a strong aversion to bugs. The only downside to my day... I just found a cockroach in my chocolate bumbalino. Guess they really were too good to be true. 

Life of Contradictions

     For the past 10.5 months I have struggled to describe what life is like here. Struggled to explain the mountain highs and valley lows. Struggled to accept that feelings of loneliness, homesickness, or defeat were real, and yet were taking root at the same time as feelings of belonging and victory. You see, my life here is the epitome of contradictory. 

     The physical environment of Ethiopia is one huge paradox: amazing, breathtaking beauty met against immense poverty and filth. My life--especially me emotions--hang in the balance between loving my life here and wondering what in the world I was thinking taking on something so much bigger than I am. And yet, admitting the down sides to life here somehow made me feel like I was affirming the doubters, implying that I couldn't do what I set out to do, or even somehow sharing that I was not happy in God's plan. And yet now looking back I realize that was pride and the reality is the complete opposite. The moment when I accepted that all of these feelings and emotions were real was the moment that I could embrace the good with the bad. Then suddenly I could accept that the happiness that overtook me ran just as deep as my occasional loneliness in a world so different from my own. The certainty about being exactly where God wanted me was solid, and yet just as firm was the fact that I sometimes wondered what on earth I was doing here. The frustration that threatened to take control of me at times was just as true as the unbounded joy I felt at other times. The truth is... I love my life here, but compared to the life I left behind, this one is hard!  

     There is something freeing about accepting the contradictions that have come to define my life in Ethiopia. Embracing them has allowed me to feel an indescribable assurance that I am indeed where God wants me for this season. Through the ups and downs He is molding me and shaping me into the person He desires for me to be. Though contradictory and far from anything I have experienced ever before, I am assured beyond all understanding that this is the place I was born to be for this season... And that is a good feeling. This life that challenges me each and every day is the same life that brings me the ultimate fulfillment--fulfillment in Christ.  

This Day in History

     On this day in history, one year ago to be exact, my best friend Melita and I ate Ethiopian food for the 1st time. At the time we asked the waiter what the most commonly eaten food in Ethiopia was and that is how we placed our order. Doro Wat. At the time I had NO idea how precious this dish was (the yummiest Ethiopian food of all and served only on special holidays), and I had no earthly idea what the other foods were that were sitting on my injera roll. Now I look back at what we ate the day and enjoy reminiscing over how new it was back then. Totally and completely foreign. Now, a year later, I can cook half the foods that stared back at me that day and thoroughly enjoy any invitation to eat Doro Wat with the locals.

      What a difference one year can make. It feels like so very much has happened since then. At that point I was still fundraising. Still had not been to my Global Outreach training. Still had not booked my plane ticket. Now, my time here is nearly over and I am left wondering where the time went. Thanks Melita, for being brave and trying new foods with me on this day in history. You rock! 

A Day in the Life

     As I prepare my next newsletter, church update, and continue on my blogging journey, I find it so very difficult to come up with things to write about. After nearly a year of life in Ethiopia, there is such a normalcy to the ins and outs of my day. Nothing seems "odd" now, and cultural differenes are just a part of day to day life. And yet, I stop and think that for me this is all just life, but for those of you who are connecting stateside, there is absolutely nothing normal about the life I am living. So, allow me to share a day in the life of Hannah...

     During this season, my day starts around 5am when my sweet little miss decides it is time to start the day (cannot complain too much, she is sleeping 8 or 9 hours straight at night). Time to get up and make a bottle, feed, then lay her on my chest in hopes of a few more hours of her squirmy sleep. Today was a victory... Back to sleep until 8:30am! The morning continues with baby cooing as I get ready for the day. 

     There is nothing quiet about our days... From inside the house we hear the blairing local churches that begin a call to prayer or even just start with some music. 5:45am is the key time to start, but they continue on and off throughout the day. I hear Mulu outside who comes to cut my grass for his sheep who just had triplets. The local boys play soccer and marbles not too far from my front door and their shouts and hollers surrounding the game rarely cease. The funny part is I never know which game they are playing because they get just as into both of them. There are the knocks of girls looking for housework, boys selling eggs, or friendly neighbors stopping by to chat. The birds sing, dogs bark, and donkey carts roll along the road behind my house with squeky wheels and clinking water cans. Around noon the kids return from school so their blissful conversations fill the air. There is the skitter of the creatures living upstairs, small limbs falling on my tin roof, and water leaking from my tank outside. Somehow though, these sounds have come to be a part of my day. An expeded part of routine. 

     Sometime mid morning I put little miss in the frontpack and we stroll off down the red dusty dirt road into town. Off to get our fresh bread for the day. It's about a mile stroll to the end of the dirt road and shops where we buy our fresh bread every few days. Today, as I walked passed the shops looking for the type of bread I like best a boy came up to me... "Hannah, one birr?" This is a boy I know well from my walks to and from town. He has the biggest coffee brown eyes and warm smile. I replied to his plea for money (only the thousandth I had heard that morning) with an ishy (which means "ok" in Amharic). I held out my hand, pointed to my palm, and said "One birr." He seemed to get the joke as a grin took root, and needless to say he stopped asking for money. 

     I found the shop I liked and stepped inside. Two small children sat behind the counter with their older brother. After greeting them I placed my order. Just then a giant rat scurried up a pole in the back wall and into the ceiling. ICK! Rats, in my bread suke. It's ok, I told myself... He was not actually IN the bread cabinet. And with that we had our bread, paid our birr, and were on our way home. Making a quick stop by the lady selling avocados on the side of the road, we are back on our way. Back down the rocky, dusty, dirt road. Along the way children swarm, and by the time I reach my compound I have accrued quite the mob of children. 

     The days are pretty relaxed. I make lunch, little miss takes a nap, and I usually spend that time reading or writing. Cleaning up the house. Prepping for dinner. Occasionally we go next door to our neighbors for chatting and tea. The evenings come, the sun goes down, the air catches a little extra chill, and we settle in. By 8:00pm my girl is usually ready for bed. Prayers, songs, and a story sent by a sweet friend all have become part of our nighttime routine. Then snuggles. Always snuggles! As her eyes grow heavey and she slowly falls off to sleep, my mind opens the floodgates and thoughs start racing. Thoughts of the day, thoughts of what is to come, thoughts of my past and my future. With sweet baby snores beside me, this is my time. With another day behind me, this is when I find God. And as conversations with Him lend way to heavey eyes and eventually sleep, another day is done. 

     You see my friends, for this season, this is my life. It is normal. The rats running up and down in the bread shop. The early morning baby smiles and afternoon boys outside the door. The mobs of children along our walk. The donkeys and sheep I avoid running into along the way. The dirt that stains my feet and the rocks I trip over. The ladies selling produce along the way. And the hyenias that howel announcing the start of night. This is my "normal". This is a day in the life of this white girl embracing life in the hills of Ethiopia... 

Send Me

     I have been so blessed in my time here--even more so than I deserve. But I can tell you this much... It is not because of anything I did, but rather because I serve a God of grace who accepted my willing and obedient heart. The love that I have for the children at the orphanage and along the streets is not a love that I could have created of my own doing; it was God given and came from the overflowing love that He has filled my life with. 

     In coming to Ethiopia, I had a degree of qualification for working with and loving these young children, but to a large degree I was not at all qualified for the work that was ahead of me. I never studied cross-cultural ministries, I simply fell in love with it. I had no experience with orphans or social work, and the extent of my medical capabilities reached just about as far as the closest box of bandaids and tube of Neosporin. And yet God looked down upon me and saw something He could use: He saw a willingness to serve.  

     I have learned throughout this year, as I prepped and landed on the mission field, that something magical happens when we say "Yes, Lord." God starts moving in ways we never could have dreamed of. It was as if, by simply offering myself to God He began doing things in me, through me, and around me that could only be explained by His faithfulness even in this fallen world.  

Changing Seasons

There are seasons to mission work, just like there are seasons to life. Right now, I find myself in the most enjoyable season yet. Though I have many challenging days ahead that will test both my faith and strength, this season suits me. 

Two months from now I will be stateside. The chapter in my life lived in Ethiopia will be in the past and a new chapter will begin. Two months. That is how long I have to drink up each and every moment here, that is how long I have left to be transformed by this experience, and that is how long I have left to do what God has placed before me on this side of the world. 

Each season has it's ups and downs. But now, with two months to go, I feel like I am in a constant state of reflection. I have just enough days left that it is not overwhelming. I am close enough to the end that I am not experiencing even the slightest bit of homesickness. For that I am grateful. I am also close enough to the end that I am constantly feeling more challenged than ever to appreciate the now, the moment that God has placed me in. 

When I started this journey, I thought these feeling would never come. It seemed like a year might as well have been a lifetime commitment. That's not a bad thing, but I so often found myself taking the moments for granted. Wishing parts of them away so that I could be back with my family. But as you would assume, now that each day seems to fly by faster than the last, I am willing time to slow down because what lies ahead of me does not seem nearly as impossible. I feel like that is part of what God desired to teach me in this year though. He wanted me to enter what felt like the impossible so that He could be glorified in the wonder of possibility. He wanted me to step beyond my comfort zone so I could both grow and lean on Him in new and undiscovered ways. He wanted me to leave the norm not to change the whole world, but to make a difference for Him. 

I have said time and time again, at the end of this year my one desire is to feel God say to me, "Well done my good and faithful servant." I still have a lot ahead of me, but I hope that even up until this point I have fulfilled what God has asked of me, placed before me, and entrusted me with... Because this year, this not-so-normal path I have chosen, is purely because I love Jesus and this is what He asked me to do.