A Million Words

 

                                                             Havannah

As we would drive into Havannah everyday, I would see these brother and sisters hiking along the side of the road.  Everyday they would file in late and sit quietly in the front row, and slip out right after the service. I finally asked who they were. I was told that they followed the pastors daughter to church one day 2 years ago- and they have been coming ever since!

                          Youth group @ Pilgrim Church- Bible memorization!

                           Sunday School in Havannah

 

                        Yeah you're seeing correctly. I was dumbfounded.

                                                              Ouhave Cattle Farm!

                                                                Vultures

 Himba women- a nomadic tribal people who were selling their crafts in the city. Their hair and skin are covered in a stone and butter mixture. I traded her my digital watch for some bracelets.

 

                                                                 Team :)

 A Kwanyama woman- they only wear clothing dyed hot pink and jewelery made out of ostrich eggs! True story.

A Walk in the City

Imagine a place where Pocahontas runs with the Amish. And women from the renaissance mingle with gangsters from the 80s.

 These are the streets of Windhoek, the most interesting city in the world.

The Namibian Dream

The jeep slowly makes its way up the path. 

 Bump bump bump.

 Women with buckets on their heads walk alongside.

 And children run by barefoot, with babies strapped to their backs.

 Bump bump bump.

 Men burning their trash outside of their homes.

 Their homes made of tin line the mountains.

Where their chicken and dogs roam free.

 We get to the church, at the highest point. It too is made of tin, and held up by branches.

The people of Havannah have nothing. And want nothing, but to worship out God in Spirit and Truth.

"How excellent is our God- We love you Lord!"

They sing and dance in 20 part harmony, till I think the roof will cave!

What do you need?? "We need Bibles!"

What can we get for you??? "Get us preaching materials!!"

 How wonderful is our God- we love you Lord!" They dance on. 

 Jesus knew. He said blessed are the poor in Spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven!

Of spiritual poverty, St. Augustine de Sales writes:

       Woe to be rich in spirit, for theirs must be the bitterness of hell. By rich in spirit I mean him whose riches   engross his mind, or whose mind is buried in his riches. He is poor in spirit whose heart is not filled  with the love of riches, whose mind is not set upon them. Do not let the mind which is in the likeness of God cleave to mere earthly goods!

That afternoon the people of Havannah gave me so much. 

"How perfect is our God- we love you Lord!"

Silvunga's Smile

He sits and tells stories. Once a journalist and news reporter, he speaks of the details of his life vividly. His town attacked, he had to dodge missiles. There was a warrant for his head, dead or alive, so he had to flee in the night. Although weak with malaria, he ran on foot to find his family. Together they escaped to a camp, where there were not enough rations to go around. Everything is ok now. The war is over and his family is safe.

His eyes have seen the horrors of this depraved world. Yet they sparkle and dance when he talks. His smile is as big as his face, and his laughter as loud as the thunder. They say that this is the way its always been. 

If I am ever to suffer I want to do so as Silvunga, with as much faith as I can muster, and all the joy to be had.

All Grown Up

I'm working on a painting in class. On a 3 ft canvas I'm putting on the first layers of oils. Right now I have big bright colored shapes. Its the basics, and if done right, the rest of the painting will have boldness and depth, perspective and beautiful intricacies. But for now it looks like its done by a child.

I'm such a baby. I've hardly had to say goodbye before but always the thought of those words saddens me to the point to tears. Ill be gone only a month. Yet I dread it. Being detached from the ones I love is the thing I'm scared of.  People roll their eyes and I keep sniffling.

I'm a child. I am a daddy's girl and my family takes care of almost all of my needs, especially connectedness and relationship.

I'm a woman. I have will and power and belonging; I live out my identity and personhood in accordance with my convictions. I have well formed goals that drive my life and a Love that drives my being.

Somedays these layers of my life run together in a transparency that takes on the depth that my painting will someday have. Today these layers are a mess.I might have to get my act together.

I'm going to wipe my tears, and end this post like every other big-girl blogger out there, with the final sip of my coffee and the closing of my computer and the list of to-dos this day has for me.

My First

          Time stands still. With a photograph or a journal entry, a moment is captured forever.  The glory of man fades away. But the time capsule will remain buried in our yard till the end of time. And the words typed here will orbit cyber space even longer.

         I want to hold on to the moments of life. I want to be a better communicator. I want to remain connected to you who are far. And I want to be like the ones I love, and most of you have a blog.

         I love reading your blogs, and it gives me the courage to have one of my own. You’re vulnerable, random, creative, and quirky. You’re funny and weird and deep.  Your grammar sucks, its immaculate, its whatever you want it to be. Ten times a day I wish I had one. Today I wanted to write about all these things.

I saw a robin in a tree. 

I got a bug hut. 

I got new dresses at Urban. 

I finished Les Mis.

I went for a walk.

I made some really good burned butter cookies. 

I sat with my sister for hours, reading old journals. 

I love the She and Him cd.

I went to a cooking class. 

And my heart soared. 

Here’s to my day.  To blogging. To birds, and songs and sisters.