notes on a journey

last thursday, the last night of our village trip, amanda, tiffany, and I laid in our tent on the side of the road somewhere north of segou, trying our best to forget about the 100 degree heat that was radiating around us and the stench that was no doubt radiating from us. as we laid there pouring sweat, discussing our most recent storying opportunity with a new bozo friend, Mr. K, and trying to have a few laughs to end the day the winds started to pick up. now i have been here long enough to know that when the wind starts blowing there are only two options–you are either about to experience the craziest dust storm imaginable or a rain storm, with the latter being oh so rare. but praise the Lord… it started raining. yes, rain! it was my first in 8 months. the temperature immediately started to drop and around 3 a.m we were finally able to settle in for a “cool” night’s rest. we awoke friday morning to soaked clothes and flood like conditions in our tent but it was so worth it to hear the sweet sound of raindrops all night and wake up to the cool breeze. these showers will most likely be far and few between until late summer but for now, i am going to enjoy every minute of them i can!

A year ago today I left home—my family, friends, and all the good things in America for Mali, a desert country with temperatures hovering above 100 degrees for most of the year and filled with people who have never heard the Message.  While this past year has definitely been filled with obstacles, hard choices, times of frustration and desperation, and a million and one things that went wrong, it is funny how in such a short time this place has become “home.” I thought about this as I sat with a Bozo man under my mango tree yesterday sharing the good News completely in Bambara. I thought, “A year ago I couldn’t do this, a year ago I didn’t know how to story, a year ago I didn’t know anyone in this country, a year ago I didn’t even know that the Bambara language existed!”  The newness of this country, its people, and its culture has moved from wide-eyed amazement and shock to common everyday experiences. Things that surprised me a year ago have become the very things that I now consider to be “normal.” I have created a life here—a home filled with friends, an outreach group who I long to see know the Lord, relationships that will last a lifetime, conquered a new language, learned to cook EVERYTHING from scratch, learned to ride a bike in a panya (difficult task), pushed myself to live in a hut, learned to love village life, accepted the fact that every meal will be fish and rice, driven to Timbuktu and back, trekked across the desert, accepted that I will always have at least one mosquito bite on me, became quite aware of my weaknesses,  realized new strengths, learned the amazing power of prayer, learned the amazing power of the Word of God, and most importantly I have come to learn what it looks like to be completely and utterly dependent and in love with Christ, my Savior.

If nothing else, this past year in Mali is a tribute to God’s faithfulness. There is no way I could survive here, have a home here, or have any kind of joy here if it weren’t for the constant joy and faithfulness that flows from the Father.

Praise Him for his faithfulness, praise Him for his sovereignty, praise Him that when I doubt He is sure, praise Him that when I falter He is strong, praise Him that He is our Rock and portion forever.

“Praise the Lord, all you nations; extol him, all you peoples.

For great is his love toward us, and the faithfulness of the Lord endures forever. Praise the Lord!”

Psalm 117: 1-2

Happy one year to everyone who has come along on the journey with me. One more to go!