Update from Liz

The truck hit a bump and all the contents in the bed bounced six inches into the air with a shout. The princess, draped in a green and orange chitenge, slid from center of my lap down to my knees. I clasped my hands as tight as possible around her waist, trying to save her limp body from falling onto the floor and awakening her from whatever dreams her seven year old imagination was portraying in her mind. As her head found its place on my collarbone almost like a perfect puzzle piece, I looked up across the seats, peering between her family members, and followed the dusk glow of the horizon with my eyes while whispering a prayer of thanks to God. I turned to Matt, my teammate who also decided to jump into the back of the truck with me when our leader asked if anyone would like to go with Chief Nyawa back to his village, and said..

"in this moment, my heart could explode."

It was the last night of our expedition to Nyawa village, and had i not hiked up my skirt & ascended into the back of the truck, i might not be able to say that i truly enjoyed myself. it's nothing again the people of Nyawa village, whose smiles when they met us spoke of more joy than a person who just won the lottery, or against my team, which consists of eight of the most colorful, diverse and Christ-seeking individuals you could ask for. the only person who could prevent me from enjoying myself is myself. As most of you know, in the few weeks leading up to my departure for Zambia, i heard the Lord just say 'you are going to be broken.' Broken? Broken being shattered, scattered, ripped apart and no longer of use.. this was the definition that came to mind. I must be broken of who i am in order to embrace that who God wants me to be. Ripped apart from the safe identity I have made for myself and physically apart from the comforts and familiarity of the west. No longer of use to fill the dreams and expectations I made for myself of being a typical 22 [almost 23] year old but become a useful servant in the Kingdom of God.

This first trip to the Bush was the beginning of that process. In the Bush, I expected to be challenged with bugs, dirt, and trees for toilets, which i was, but what i was not expecting was the theological challenge. Our first full day, we split our team into two, and i put myself on the evangelize team, because that's one of my weaknesses. As we left for the huts, one of my teammates grew ill, and our leader decided to walk with her back to camp, leaving two translators and yours truly, still wandering down the sandy paths out into the middle of nowhere rural Zambia. as we approached the first home, i realized that i have absolutely no idea what i am doing. i have been in Zambia less than a week! i don't know how these people live, what they believe or even how to greet them properly. Walking up to the door, i prayed on every exhale. "who the, what the, where the, how the, God.. help me!" I'll never forget that first house. I realized no matter how much 'preparation' or reading i could of done, nothing could of told me what to do in that situation. I sat on the floor, tucked my skirt under my legs, and asked the ladies a few questions about themselves, their children and whats for lunch. One of our translators, prompted and told me that this is the part where i should encourage them with scripture. i turned the bent pages of my bible, praying 'God give me something.. anything..' I landed in Ephesians and spoke about Gods love for their life, and how no matter what stuggles they face, he will never forsake them. simple, i know.. but that's all i felt leaded to say, and i pray that they understood how deep and wide Gods love truly is. Laura, our leader, approached us right when we were leaving and she congratulated me on not sinking since she pretty much threw me into the rive and said 'swim.'

this was only the first day of three. the following two days consisted of traveling around to other rural Zambian villages, hosting a plethora of meetings and services, praying over the troubled and sick. To be honest, through it all, my heart was burdened. Approach on ministry here is so different than the routine i knew in the states, and i was struggling with questions as to what exactly am i doing and does this truly work? All i was longing for was a connection to the people. A personal connection with the pastors wife, or clinic nurse, or one of mothers who filled the church's meetings, or even just a child. The past three days I felt completely detached from the world around me and i couldn't shake the spirit of doubt. As the evening approached on the last day in Nyawa, i collapsed on top of the sun bleached leather seats of the truck and just prayed for someone, anyone, to make me feel something other than doubt or confusion. The team hosted our last meeting in the church and we were all graced by the presence of chief Nyawa and his extended family. As the shadows grew longer and the third day came to a close, i gathered my things to walk back to camp. I walked pass the truck as Dan, our leader, started the engine making me jump. I asked him where he was going and he said that he needed to get the chief back to his palace before dark. it must have been the word 'palace' that provoked me to ask 'can i come?'

And it was on that two hour long drive, that God answered my prayer through one of his daughters, a little princess. I sat down in a seat among the Nyawa royalty with the thought of 'at least I'll see something different' when she climbed into my lap. the ride was a bumpy journey, but that didn't stop the family from singing and dancing the whole duration of the trip. the children and adults a like, did their best to keep balance while shaking there hips to the chitange song as their voices carried across the grass and scarce trees so that anyone within a 5k could hear their joy. the words between she and i were few, but her smile, laughter, and simple presence spoke clearly enough for me to know that i am, indeed, not spending three months in Zambia on a pointless mission.

after all, i make one awesome pillow.