Life's a Dance You Learn as You Go

Little ones, to Him belong. They are weak, but He is strong. The simply complex life of having little ones in the house reminds me of God's ability to take care of us, His children. I'm settled in at my new home and know I'm exactly where I should be. Sam's declaration of “MomMa!” and Nathaniel's realization of his voice sounds like home.

Speaking of home, the construction team returned from a village where they built a church. Even though I didn't know the 12 men from Texas, it was great to spend a few days with them before they headed back to the U.S. We listened to their stories from the trip and were amazed at God's timing and placement of people. I was blessed to hear a few of the guys sing some tunes from their “time” and that familiar sound took me back to my roots-country, southern gospel and bluegrass. I sat on the steps of the bible school, with my head towards the blue sky, not able to take my eyes off the leaves swaying in the African breeze, while I listened to the sound of music—soothing.

I went to a church with some of the team members the other night. I hadn't been there since my first trip to Niger, two years ago. Although the congregation was very small, I enjoyed being with the Africans and one of the ladies gave me a hug. Those of you who know my need for hugs understand how happy it makes me when I can hug an African woman, my friend and housemate Hope, and her babies. God is faithful to provide the necessities and also those unique things that make us smile.

The French language.....I am studying everyday and slightly improving on listening comprehension. My speaking ability is, well not so good. Last night after the team left, I went to the kitchen to talk with Halima and Amina (africans who are about my age), and Hope joined us. Then Amina said in French, “Krystal needs to learn French fast, so then us four friends can talk. I feel bad because she can't understand.” It's true. I can't wait until I can actually speak to them like I would my best friend at home. Life is relationships. Yesterday the team went to the orphanage and Hope, Shelley and I stayed home to make pecan pies for the team's last dinner. Yeah, I was disappointed about not seeing the children at the orphanage but I was willing to help a little with dinner prep. Then I received a phone call. It was Kadidja, a little girl from the orphanage. She spoke to me in French, and I couldn't believe she was calling me! Dave then told me she asked why I wasn't there with the team and wanted to see me. So, he let her call me and told her I'd be there within 2 weeks to see her. A precious little child calls me her mama. Umm, so yeah that pretty much made my day.

This week we walked to the little market by our house, watched the various animals roam, ate yogurt out of a bag, absorbed the life outside of our home's walls, and I still can't wrap my mind around that fact that I live in Africa. Hope and Dave told me to pick out dinner tonight. I decided to have an African dish, called ignam, which can be prepared as a mush (with sauce), boiled, or fried like fries. I'm excited because I've never had this dish and want to eat like the Africans. We're also having bread with a spicy dip made from fresh peppers.


I have much to rejoice about but time here has also been challenging in thought, emotion, faith and prayer. Daily, glimpses of God's restoring power are visible though. Below are poems I wrote on two different days.

Niger Rain
Niger rain,
my heart is at rest.
Niger rain,
my eyes gaze
as my mind considers,
Niger rain,
Who has no shelter?
Who has to patch their mud homes?
Who has buckets for the leaks?
Dirt roads become rivers.
Niger rain,
Rain of righteousness,
wash away the sin.
Niger rain,
Quenching the thirsty ground.
Cooling the hot air.
Silencing me,
to hear Him in the Niger rain.



Perception
As it seems you are absent,
your children call out for you.
As it seems you are not for us,
or the people we want to love in this desert.
Where is our helper?
Purify the church, we pray.
Are we willing to endure the process?
As it seems, you are not just.
Poverty, disease, and spiritual drought
leave me asking many questions.
Creator of all.
As it seems, our attempts are futile.
Sacrifices in vain.
As it seems, purposeless.

Perception is NOT truth.
You are here.
By your children's side, you are.
You are our helper.
Sustain us to endure the purification.
You are just.
Feed, heal, and pour out your living water.
You are our creator.
You prompt us to do good works,
that are eternal.
Full of purpose.

As it seems, lies can overwhelm.
But the Spirit of truth whispers,
You aren't alone. I am with you.
I am aware and am not shocked.
I have a plan. Keep trusting.
Accusations will not last.