What I'm going to miss

Here we are on our last day in Abengourou. It's Sunday morning and I'm sitting at the desk in the bedroom I've stayed in most of the summer and drinking tea from my favorite mug like I do every morning - for the last time. I'm getting ready for church - for the last time. I'm walking to the clinic (where the church is) - for the last time.

Friday night was our last afternoon trip to Zamaka where Andy gave a Bible study (this week it was about prayer). On our drive out there, he asked us what we were going to miss about Ivory Coast - that is no small question! We talked about it a little bit on the way there, but here are a few things I'm going to miss...

• The walk from the house to the clinic. We see a lot of interesting things and meet a lot of interesting people :) 
• Greeting everyone when we walk into a room.
• Hearing French everywhere. 
• The Gables - our host missionaries!  (I love this family a lot :))
• Playing dress up with little Gable girls. 
• Watching Harry Potter on the weekends - I had never seen it and the Gable boys can explain every spell to me (and act them out! :)) 
• Figuring out the markets.
• Working in the pharmacy with Koffi and Elise and Edith and Mme Tro - they are so fun :)
• Visiting the kids in the school program.
• Getting French lessons from our social workers/translators/Anouansse (not to brag, but we know directions so well that we could probably successfully get from our house to the market using a French GPS...maybe... ;))
• Wednesday post-home visit lunches. 
• The way that time works here - it's a slower pace. 
• "Attieke and fish Thursdays" and movie and game nights with the Gables. Or just whenever they came over and talked for a long time - those were some of my favorite times - and I will so miss the wisdom and knowledge they shared with us. We learn so much from them! 
• People carrying things on their heads and babies on their backs. 
• Pretty, colorful pagnes. 
• Listening to Magic System in the car!
• Collecting eggs at the chicken farm and sorting them with Emmanuel
• Danica playing the guitar and singing - and our 2 newest friends Vanessa and Elodie singing and dancing along 
• Distinguishing between African languages - Djoula, Agni, Baoule. (note: I am not good at this. but if they happen to say "white" or "okay" I'm all over it. :))
• Fatou and Noufou and Miriam - I could go on and on but the last blog is all about them so I won't. :)
• Going to lots of village churches. 
• Wearing long skirts every day.
• It's so warm and it's not even the hot season!
• The way we were able to pray for each child during home visits, regardless of religion.
• African drums in church services. 



We love our missionaries:)






Gilbert & Francois at the dam after home visits



Last week we had a carnival for the school kids!



Dinner at Vanessa's house



Tea & favorite mug

• Every prayer concluding with "au nom de Jesus" (in the name of Jesus) 

I could go on and on and on, but I won't (if you read the whole thing you deserve a prize:)). I love Ivory Coast. I'm for sure going to miss it.

Village Life

"Oh, I'm very sad," Fatou said as she hugged us again and we put our pagnes in our backpacks, "but that's life."

Danica and I spent five days this week in a village about forty-five minutes from Abengourou called Zamaka. We stayed with a wonderful woman named Fatou and her husband, Noufou, who were so gracious to us by giving generously of their space, time, and patience! Here's what I learned in one sentence: Village life in Africa is hard.

Fatou serving rice near the market

Let me just tell you that Fatou is incredible! She was patient with us as she taught us what it's like to live in a courtyard in a village in Ivory Coast. We were able to follow her for a few days and help out a little (really big emphasis on little). Each morning she woke up around 4 and swept the floor inside the house and the front yard while we took our bucket bath. There's no running water so it's likely that before she woke us up, she was getting water from the well a few yards from her house. The mornings were spent cleaning up around the house, washing dishes, and walking to the market to get vegetables, fish, macaroni, and oil. She spent the rest of the afternoons cooking. She sells rice, beans, sandwiches, and salads at the market in the evening, so in between making all of the food and going to the market to sell it, she is busy drawing more water from the well, washing the dishes (multiple times throughout the day), sweeping trash off the ground (also multiple times throughout the day), giving her four-year-old daughter Miriam a bath, washing clothes, and making food for her family. Did I mention she also leads a Bible storytelling group for Djoula Muslim women on Thursdays in Abengourou?

It was an incredible blessing I'll never forget to have spent this time with her. Here are some of my favorite things from our time in Zamaka...

Our host missionary, Andy, and Germain the day he was baptized!

• Fatou saying, "You wash Fatou!" Almost the entire time she spoke to us in French but this was the one English phrase she used a couple of times and we all cracked up every time. :)
• Carrying that sweet, sleeping four-year-old home from the market after Fatou was finished selling. 
• Being able to embrace the bucket bath (well I'm not going to lie, this did not happen the first day :)) 
• Looking at pictures of Fatou and Noufou's baptism.
• Playing patty cake with Fatou and the little girls in the courtyard.
• Walking around Zamaka and meeting lots of people with Germain.
• Talking to an elderly woman every evening at the market - she spoke French slow enough and in simple enough words that we could actually converse! 
• Being told we scared a little boy...by being white
• Seeing the nice clothes Fatou and Noufou had in a box for the legal wedding they're having in January - and the huge smile on Noufou's face when he talked about how happy and thankful he is to God.



I just loved her. :)

• The way the people in the courtyard stopped in and just talked and laughed together like family. 

By far my most favorite part was something that happened late one night when Danica and I were about to go to bed. Fatou came into the room and got out her Bible and flipped it open to Psalm 67. I asked what her favorite Bible passage is, and she told us it's Isaiah 41:10 "So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." She read us both of these passages in French and we followed along in English, and then she prayed, blew us goodnight kisses and said, "I love you very much!"

My heart smiled and cried at the same time. When I'm back in America two weeks from this moment, will I ever see this woman again? I pray I will have the privilege of seeing her again this side of heaven, but if not, I'm holding tightly to God's promise of salvation and life that will never end - "salvation among all nations" (Psalm 67:2) - salvation that was extended to include Fatou, salvation that was extended to include me. I'm going to hug her goodbye in a few short days, but I have the joy of knowing that we serve the same gracious, accepting, restoring, saving God. 

Oh, I'm very sad. But that's life.

And I will see her again.

xoxo

kelsey

Here's what I don't like.

If you were to ask me something I dislike about Africa, I'm pretty sure I would always give the same answer (besides the occasional "3 inch long cockroaches" ;)): There's always dirt on my feet.

[Yeah, I agree - it's petty, isn't it?]

We came to Ivory Coast during the rainy season, and still there is dust everywhere. If you look closely at the plants lining the main roads, you can see a red-brown coating on the leaves. Gravel-dirt roads release a pretty thick cloud of the stuff when a car drives by, so by the end of a typical day, Danica and I can wipe off a nice dark tan layer from our faces.

The awesome social workers and translators we get to work with!

Danica and I have been making home visits for a couple of weeks now, and it has been such a learning experience. The kids we've visited are enrolled in the CHE school program. Most (if not all) have only one parent. Many drink from untreated wells. Many struggle to provide food for their families. Some fight recurring illnesses like malaria. Some are HIV positive. Most would just like to be able to have something to sell to provide for their families. Some of the kids wear ripped
clothes because they can't afford new ones.

And to top it all off, they're covered in dirt!

But something that has become more evident with each day that passes is that hope is everywhere. Each home is met with questions about the physical needs of the family. Each home is met with concerns for the behavior and educational needs of the child. And each home is prayed over in the hope that along with restoration of the body and strengthening of the mind, souls will find freedom and healing through Jesus Christ.

We have seen joy in the midst of poverty. But we've also looked into the lifeless eyes of broken children and struggling parents and prayed for the kind of healing that will only come through Jesus. There is so much pain, but there is also beauty - a hope that covers these children like the dust that covers their bodies. We are confident that God is able to craft new lives in Abengourou from what looks like nothing to us. It wouldn't be the first time He used dust to create the best kind of life.

Would you join us in praying for this community? Please pray that the kids experience healing and are provided for physically, mentally, relationally, and spiritually. Pray that the Christians in Abengourou would be encouraged to continue serving their community by being the hands and feet of Jesus. God is good and there is so much hope...I'm reminded of that again when I look down at my dirty feet. :)

xoxo

kelsey

Happy "Malaria Tuesday"! (as it is affectionately referred to by Danica and myself as an attempt to remember to take our medicine:)) Here's a picture blog from the past three weeks!

A letter to my sister

Hey Sister,
 Guess what today is...Monday Sister Lunch! If you were here we'd probably be eating attieke and fish (it's kind of like couscous) and boiled peanuts. I hope your week has been good. I think you're in New York City right now which is super cool!! I'm writing this from a town called Beoumi. It's like a 7 hour drive from Abengourou.

I was in the pharmacy a lot last week. The people who work there are really nice to me even though I know almost no French. I basically put pills in little bags and tie them up (sounds easy [and it is] but it seriously took me like four weird-looking bags before I got the hang of it). The first couple of afternoons, we spent at the maternity, cleaning off the walls and painting them. We saw the chicken farm and went to the market a couple times (probably will be one of my favorite things...I love how busy it is). I love how all the women wear pagnes, and how it's perfectly acceptable to greet people you don't know on the street with "Bonjour, ca va?", and how dancing in church is encouraged, and I'm learning to love fish because there's a lot of that here (although I haven't quite gotten there yet :)). I like it here a lot.

I remember us talking about the cost of following Christ and how it's not cheap. Remember when I was in middle school and screamed when I saw bugs? when I could barely eat because I was sick every day? when I was painfully shy? I remember being warned, doubted, challenged. People told me I couldn't be a missionary because I was too afraid of germs (and they were right. It was a fear I had to repent of and seek God's help because it was keeping me from living the way he wanted me to. But that's a story for another day...). They told me language barriers were difficult, and they were right. They told me it may be frustrating and would require unlimited patience in a seemingly fruitless field (I'm just an intern but I imagine they were right once again).

But you know what they didn't tell me (before I came)? They didn't tell me what it would feel like to lose my sense of identity--when what I've done and who I know and how I'm perceived by people who know me are stripped away--and I'm just Kelsey (actually that's not even totally true...I'm "la blanche" mostly :)). They didn't tell me it would be a daily fight with Pride. They didn't tell me what it would feel like to be embarrassed at being the one that's different. But they also didn't tell me that my heart could be so overwhelmed with joy over the way the Church is connected at the deepest, most important level - through Christ. Yep, they didn't tell me that either.

I love it here. I wish you could be here to experience it all with me but you're doing cool things (or so I hope ;)) in St. Louis with some pretty lucky Gateway youth group girls. Keep me in the loop! I'll be for sure checkin' out daisyslunchbox.blogspot.com to hear what you're learning.

xoxo

Sister

(P.S. It's 10:20 am on Monday so it's about the time I'd be getting a text from you :)) 

Learning

This afternoon we were able to visit a Djoula Muslim neighborhood and watch the Jesus Film with the residents. We were told that this was the first movie some of the kids had ever seen in Djoula, their heart language. How awesome is that?!
 At the start of the movie, I thought I would try to pick up some of the language (which is nothing like French, by the way), but I was mostly preoccupied with the little girl sitting on my lap. She picked up my hands, rubbed them against hers, pressed her tiny fingers into each of my long fingernails, and twisted my rings around. Her fingers stopped briefly over the place where the blue veins in my wrist are particularly visible. Every once in a while she reached back and touched the tips of my hair. And near the end of the movie, she put her tiny hand over my heart, head under my chin, and looked straight into me with those beautiful dark brown eyes.

In that moment, I thanked God that someone thought she was worth it. At some point in time, someone came along who knew the Djoula people were worth giving up anything to explain Jesus in ways that make sense to them. They are worth learning an unfamiliar language. They are worth embracing different kinds of communication. They are worth driving down a bumpy Ivoirian road to watch a movie about Jesus. ;) They are worth it! And I'm thankful that someone (way back when) sacrificed time and perhaps a different way of life--a more intentional, patient, always-pursuing-and-never-giving-up way of life in order to lead my family to Christ--because they believed we were worth it.

And that is kind of what God did for us as well. He offered salvation in a way that made sense to us - not by staying in heaven (how would we understand that?), but by sending Jesus who took on the image of the people he was trying to reach. He spoke the language, used relevant parables (farming, fishing, etc), ate with people in their homes, and took time to bless children and notice widows. He changed so we could understand. And if I hope for the world to comprehend the grace and truth that are wrapped up in the message of Jesus Christ, then I have to change as well.

This reminds me of something Paul says in 1 Corinthians 9:

Though I am free and belong to no man, 

I make myself a slave to everyone, to win as many 

as possible. 

To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win 

the Jews...

I have become all things to all men, so that 

by all possible means I might save some.

 

Maybe I don't have to change. But why wouldn't I? Are my habits and pleasures and time-fillers honestly worth more than a person who sees Jesus better because I changed the way I live? I don't think so. And I'm praying that I live in a way that backs up that statement. Being a servant, a follower, a learner is hard. But it's worth it. If you don't believe me, I'll show you a picture of the little girl with the big brown eyes.

 

I didn't have to go to Africa to realize I need to change myself. That's called being a servant. The way I talk to my sister is different from the way I talk to my roommate and both of those are different from the way I talk to my grandpa--and those are all people close to my heart and within the same midwestern American culture! Being culturally sensitive has so much to do with being a servant. I'm learning to give up talking how I want to, when I want to, and about the things I want to. I'm learning (oh, I am so learning the hard way...by doing it so so wrong so many times) to give up the things I do and say and think and then to replace them with the things of Jesus. And I am so incredibly blessed to get to learn from wonderful, wonderful people in Ivory Coast. God is so much better to me than I deserve. 

xoxo

kelsey

change change change

First of all...33 days! Is this real life?

The semester has gone by SO FAST. Ozark Christian College is almost to finals week...2 weeks of classes (and more than a few pages that I really need to just write)...and we're done!

Now that was SUPER exciting for me. until last week.

Then that little thought came creeping into my head. After this semester, everything is going to be different.

(and might I just add that that thought came at an extremely inconvenient time as I was just getting pumped to finish out my last few papers. come on! ha)

The thing is, I LOVE change. Change is a good thing. Change can mean doors open. Relationships deepen. Opportunities pop up. You figure out who you are. You see God in a different light. You experience grace in a new way.

Change is sad though. Change can mean doors close. Relationships fizzle out. You have to walk away from something you love. God feels far away. You see yourself the way you actually are. Even the small kind of change (like going to college) can bring all of these things!

For me, moving to Joplin was awesome (okay not for the first 3 weeks, but then it really was awesome :)). The super cool sweet bubbly girl I had met the year before and texted a couple times a month is now the roommate that I love dearly, the girl with whom I've laughed, cried, prayed, and talked until the early morning hours. [She's the reason this blog post exists actually.] I've met incredible people. I have an opportunity to serve in a ministry in the Ivory Coast. I've realized over and over again that my identity is bound up in the fact that I have been redeemed and made holy by the blood of Christ. I've seen answered prayers, grace, and new life.

In the same 8 months, I've lost touch with friends I loved so much. Dreams that could have turned into awesome opportunities were left unfulfilled. I left a town that I knew, a church I was comfortable in, and a house that I loved. I got a glimpse of the ugliness of my sin and the wretchedness of my heart.

Some of those things made for fun, beautiful, sweet moments. But some of those were anything but beautiful. But I think some of those times, God was working through my weaknesses to make me look more like Him. It's pretty cool how God can use change (the good kind and the not so good kind) to bring our attention back to Him. And it's comforting to know He won't leave us no matter what highs and lows life throws at us. We serve a really, really good God.

xoxo

kelsey

On a somewhat related note...

Today I'm heartsick.

This isn't really anything new. I've been "sick' since coming back from Mexico the first time--about 54 weeks now.

A couple weeks ago, I got the call that I would be able to serve in the Ivory Coast this summer. I was SUPER excited. And I'm just as, if not more, excited to spend the summer there! The more I think about it, the more I wish I could skip all of my classes, homework, and papers to just be in that beautiful country (and I know it's beautiful because I keep looking at pictures).

But I also had a sad realization a couple of weeks ago. As I talked to the sweet Mexican friends I met months ago, I had to wonder when I would see them again. I can't see them this summer. I can't see them this spring (although each member of my family can attest to the fact that I desperately tried to make that happen!). Moreover, I'm not sure when or if I will ever see them again. The world is a big place! And with each place and culture I get to experience, my heart breaks open again and a little piece falls out and stays there.

But I see this as an act of grace.

If my world--every person I've ever loved and every beautiful, unique culture I've ever wanted to see--could be put in a suitcase and moved with me to a beach in Thailand (because...why not?), it would be beyond amazing. I would live out the rest of my days never needing anything else in the world. It would be comfortable. But I have not been called to be comfortable. I was called to take up my cross and make disciples, and I can think of quite a few things more comfortable than that! I'm thankful God didn't take physical pain into account when He died on that cross for me. And I'm thankful He doesn't take heart pain into account as He continually seeks after me when I chase after frivolous things. That's heartbreak. And that's love. And we are called to display that love all the time, every day. Heartbreak is an act of grace because it reminds me of the job I've been given for this life.

But it is also an act of grace because it reminds me that nothing in this world will ever satisfy. God is the only one that will satisfy. And one sweet day I'll spend eternity with other God-lovers in perfect fellowship, united for the final time to worship our Creator. I imagine that the most beautiful moment of my earthly life will pale in comparison with this! It's so worth any pain and heartache we might endure to get there. I think a heart in turmoil is sometimes just an intense longing for the way life was meant to be...the way life will be one soon day.

xoxo

kelsey

Why Am I Blogging?

Are you wondering that too?

I'll admit, this is kind of weird for me. I'm not a blogging person. Don't get me wrong, I love a good blog--which is probably why I've never wanted to start up my own!


But back to the question - why am I blogging? Long story short, I got a call 12 days ago (not that I'm counting...) that I was accepted to participate in a missions internship I applied for a few weeks ago. It wasn't my choice to go to Ivory Coast. I'd like to believe it was God's choice through the CMF workers. I requested Ethiopia, Burkina Faso, Ivory Coast, Maasai, Nairobi, and Thailand. But I'm going to Ivory Coast. Perhaps someday I'll write about why this is kind of a really, really, really cool deal.

This is my Ivory Coast blog. I'm writing for my mom, sister, and roommates (who probably are the only ones who will actually read this!) but feel free to read/comment/whatever even if you don't fit into any of those categories!

xoxo

kelsey