last post

I'm not sure how many people will read this, since I'm back in the States now. But I felt the need to make one more entry...for the faithful few still left, here you go...

Since I have been back, I have: used a clothes dryer. Gone for a walk by myself around the neighborhood. Driven my car. Gotten on the internet whenever I wanted. Started collecting stuff for my new apartment. Gone shopping by myself. Used and thrown away a ziploc bag.

All things that I once counted as normal. Now, they seem weird, because I didn’t do those things in South Africa. Even American money is weird.

Welcome to reverse culture shock.

America itself has a different look and feel to it. And it’s not always a “good to be home” feeling. Yes, I celebrate the fact that the houses aren’t walled and gated in, that there’s no trash floating in the streets, that children aren’t running around playing barefoot without their parents, that there aren’t beggars and people trying to sell things at every robot (er, stoplight). But that’s just in my hometown; it doesn’t mean those things don’t happen in other American places. And it doesn’t take away the reality that still exists in Troyeville and so much of South Africa.

I feel slightly guilty that I can just walk away from a place and people in so much need, when they can’t. And I’ve come back to a country obsessed with stuff, with getting more and bigger and better things. I heard a statistic from Cheryl’s daughter-in-law: if America reallocated all the money it spent on ice cream in one year, it would solve the problem of hunger in Africa.

We have so much. They have so little. Why are we just sitting in our comfortable chairs, watching our big screen TVs, giving a sad look when we see the images of poverty on the screen before we switch it off and find something else to do?

But just throwing money at people isn’t a solution. I don’t know what the solution is. It’s a long process.

There are people over there working to help, doing their part to heal the community around them. Cheryl Allen is one of those people. Her heart is huge, and she has done so much for so many, trusting God with everything along the way. If I can be half of the woman of God and minister that she is, I will be lucky.

I constantly wonder what is going on over there, playing the, “It’s so-and-so time over there, meaning they’re doing this activity.” I worry about Nomalanga, Thabo, and Oyisa and how they’re adjusting to the cottage by themselves. I especially worry about Thabo, since both of his biological parents died of AIDS, and now he’s had to endure two more people leaving his life.

Fortunately, I’m not completely cut off from them. I can email back and forth with Carol and Amber, as well as a few other church people. Praise God for the internet.

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This will be my last post on this blog. There’s really no way to wrap it up with a neat little bow and concluding paragraph. Yes, I will be starting a new job and starting seminary in less than a month. But my time in Johannesburg is not “just a phase” or some thing I just did or a chapter in my life that is closing. It’s an experience that will impact me for the rest of my life. And for the people of Johannesburg, this life is still going on.

For those who are interested, you can continue to read about Troyeville Baptist and the Touch Life Centre through Carol and Amber’s blogs, as they will each be there for (at least) one year. The links are on the right side of the screen.

Also, for those who feel led to help out financially, there is information at the bottom of Carol’s site about how you can donate through the Virginia Baptist Mission Board. Every little bit helps. And please continue to pray for the people and the ministry there.

A closing thought from Rob Bell’s Velvet Elvis:

“So many of us have been conditioned to think of our faith as solely an issue of us and God. But faith is a communal experience. A shared journey….the point of our stories and our faith journeys is that they are about something much bigger.”

Thank you for your prayers, support, comments, hugs, and love, and for listening to my story. And my prayer is that you may have been touched in some way, that you have been able to see that “something much bigger” that God is doing in us, around us, and through us.

a few pictures

I wanted to give you all a few shots of my life in Jo'burg...there are plenty more, but to see them you'll just have to ask :o)





















Oyisa (age 6) and Thabo (age 7). They loved to listen to our iPods...and strangely enough, really enjoyed country music!





















Tshepo (my "best friend" with a baby tied on his back. Many of the women carry their babies/toddlers like this, and in play time the children would often follow suit. Tshepo was the only boy that did this.

























With Elami, the girl I wanted to sneak into my suitcase :o)
















Op de Bergen street, right outside the church compound




















life behind barbed wire (picture stolen from Russell)

















Troyeville Baptist youth group


















Russell and I with Cheryl, Don, and Richard...one of the most amazing families I know



















last day with the kids and the staff

goodbyes and jet lag

Well, after a long time travelling (and a rather frustrating time in Dulles), I am back in Mechanicsville. It feels kinda weird...more about the whole reprogramming process in another entry, as right now I am still trying to get over the jet lag!

Like I said before, we had quite a few things on our plates before we left! Saturday we hung out with Katie and Alyson, since (a) they had a day off, and (b) it was Alyson's birthday! We went out to Bruma (an open-market type place, great for buying souveniers), then headed over to church where we put on a braai for the youth, and also in honor of our leaving. Of course, it was American style, with hamburgers, hotdogs, chips, baked beans, etc.

A funny thing about braais here (er, there)...it's traditional that men do all the cooking, and women stay inside fixing the salads. So of course I had to make sure I flipped a few hot dogs myself ;o) There are a few traditional gender roles here (er, there) that I've noticed. None are constricting or strict, but the expectations are a little different. Russell and I had fun breaking a few of those expectations while we were there...not in a mean way, but just showing what we were capable of. (They were shocked when he did his own laundry and cooked food, haha).

Sunday was our last service here, so we led music again and gave our testimonies. And they gave us a goodbye gift - two prints of paintings that Cheryl's son, Richard, made. It was the perfect gift, because (a) I had admired a few of the prints in Cheryl's house, and (b) I actually know the person who painted them! Then it was our last Sunday afternoon at Cheryl's (a time I'm really going to miss!), followed by dinner at Janice and Josh's. Josh made us all bunny chow, which is basically a cross between a sloppy joe and a big sub. A very long day/weekend, but definitely worth it!

Monday evening was the big celebration concert in honor of Cheryl's birthday. It was a lot of fun; she recruited various people to sing/play for the event, and they were all good. I opted to play a piano piece rather than sing, since my voice was still recovering from my extreme yelling a few weeks ago. Afterwards, I jumped in the kitchen to help with the dishwashing/plate collecting for the reception. It was a great way to see a lot of people before we left, especially Cheryl's family!

Tuesday evening we had a "family dinner" with Nomalanga and the kids, where we walked down to a restaurant and treated them to a take-away dinner. Then on Wednesday, we treated the TLC staff to a nice lunch, which we bought/fixed for them. We even used the nice plates and glasses in the church! It was our way of saying thank you to all of them, and doing something special for them.

An interesting thing came up in a conversation with Nomalanga. She was talking about us being there, and said (rough quotation here), "You two were so humble. I didn't know what you would be like living here. I thought you might come in thinking you were better than everyone else, and wouldn't even sit next to us. But you proved me wrong." On the one hand, it breaks my heart that she had that expectation. But given the fact that I was coming in as a white American, and the history of the place and reputation of Americans, I'm not that surprised. I'm touched that she was able to be honest about that, and that we were able to prove differently. The funny thing is, we didn't go out of our way to do that. We naturally treated everybody with respect and loved them as people, regardless of their race/class/status. Why do people have such a hard time doing that???

Saying goodbye to the kids was difficult. In some way, I think they sensed it, because in our final few days they were five times as affectionate towards us as normal. Lots of, "Teacher, sit here," hugs, and pushing to sit in our laps. We tried to explain to them as best as we could about our leaving, but I'm not sure how many really understood. I didn't want them to feel like we were just abandoning them. The staff was crying, and it was really hard for me to walk out of the hall and go in the car.

And now, I'm back here in the states. Of course, travelling was a bit of a headache...our flight from Washington, DC, to Richmond ended up being cancelled. So, instead of flying into Richmond at 6 pm, we were bussed in at midnight. Probably the most frustrating thing is that we were stranded in an airport only 2 hours away from where I live, and had they cancelled it earlier or given us a better idea of how long the delay would have been, I would have gotten someone to come pick me up. What a nice "Welcome to America" present.

I want to post some reflections/wrap-up things...but it's too soon. I still need time to process and get used to life here again, and really think about the things I experienced and changes within me. So once again, stay tuned...