i received a call tonight that i never imagined getting. steph called and said:
"elizabeth, i was just at shiloh and i'm not sure if this is true........."
"what's going on?"
"some of the kids kept... crying... and saying that... well, livela died. i didn't see valeria or cosylia to confirm it, but the kids were crying and they were really upset. i just thought you should know..."
"what??? how?"
"i don't know. and i don't even know if it's true... you know how communication can get a little fuzzy"
"oh, gosh. it can't be true. they would've called me..."
"will you let me know what you find out?"
my heart was pounding as i dialed the number to confirm what my heart couldn't bare to imagine. i feared dialing the number. the phone rang... over and over. i dialed again. 3 times. crying harder with each busy signal. finally someone answered. a man? he doesn't speak english. "who could it be?", i wondered... "justas? justas, is that you? are you home?" i asked, assuming he was still in jail. "yes, thees... ees... justas"
"JUSTAS!!! valeria? can i talk to valeria or tatizo?" [anyone that spoke english]. my eyes welled up with tears as i could hear cosylia sobbing in the background. "oh no, oh no, oh no" i whispered quietly to myself.
"allo?"
"valeria? it's elizabeth! oh valeria, are you okay?"
"hi, ayleesabit. yes, i fine"
"...is your family okay?"
"yes"
"...is LIVELA okay?" [not wanting to ask the inevitable question]
"...no. livela die."
"no... nonono. are you sure? what happened?"
"she just no wake up. the am.. amb... amb-oo-lance came with lights and they take her away. my mom cry."
"oh, valeria... valeria, are you okay???"
"i am fine"
"valeria, i am coming over tomorrow. ok??"
"ok"
"valeria...?"
"yes?"
"I LOVE YOU."
"i lahve you too. bye"
i sat, stagnant, on my bed and sobbed. this can't be true. what? there's no way this is happening. i close my eyes as i recall cosylias sobs in the background.
i can't do this.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
war.
the enemy is not happy with God working through me. i am a threat and his target. i feel it... daily. i feel the enemy in every step i take, and i feel this crescendo of tension... it's building, and i'm not sure how long it will go before it breaks [or breaks me]. there’s a war i cannot see, but i can feel it revolt.
father,
Your Word says that You want us to enjoy our lives so that our joy may be made complete in You. the thief comes to steal, kill and destroy, but Jesus came so i could enjoy life in abundance, until it overflows. thank you, Lord.
i ask you Abba, for balance and fullness of Your joy. my flesh does not agree with my born-again heart and it suffers when i obey you. give me a tender conscience that is sensitive to Your voice. give me peace and freedom to enjoy people, my family, my calling and most of all, my relationship with You. protect my heart, Lord, for Your glory.
In your name, Amen.
always yours,
a girl with a smile
God is with me wherever I am. (Joshua 1:9)
love (and a tad fearful),
elizabeth
father,
Your Word says that You want us to enjoy our lives so that our joy may be made complete in You. the thief comes to steal, kill and destroy, but Jesus came so i could enjoy life in abundance, until it overflows. thank you, Lord.
i ask you Abba, for balance and fullness of Your joy. my flesh does not agree with my born-again heart and it suffers when i obey you. give me a tender conscience that is sensitive to Your voice. give me peace and freedom to enjoy people, my family, my calling and most of all, my relationship with You. protect my heart, Lord, for Your glory.
In your name, Amen.
always yours,
a girl with a smile
God is with me wherever I am. (Joshua 1:9)
love (and a tad fearful),
elizabeth
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
i have no room.
talking with a coworker, she insists that i send an email out to the childrens staff to see if anyone could spare baby formula, canned goods, school supplies, etc. for my burundi family. she tells me to come up with a list of necessities for them.
after advertising the list, i'm at a loss for words to describe how generous people are being. a baby bed, bottles, formula, boxes and boxes of clothes, food, lamps, furniture, soap, and the list goes on!
how GOOD is GOD?! to see how quickly He has provided. oh ye of little faith!!! [<--- aka ME!]
love,
elizabeth
after advertising the list, i'm at a loss for words to describe how generous people are being. a baby bed, bottles, formula, boxes and boxes of clothes, food, lamps, furniture, soap, and the list goes on!
how GOOD is GOD?! to see how quickly He has provided. oh ye of little faith!!! [<--- aka ME!]
love,
elizabeth
Thursday, October 15, 2009
drive home
i drove down the long stretch of I-30, in silence. i was overwhelmed and burdened by their needs. "why am i here? what could i possibly do to help?"
driving that night, i didn't ask God to provide... i merely asked Him why He hadn't already. why must they suffer? why isn't anyone doing anything about i? and He answered me in the form of conviction, almost immediately...:
"Beloved, YOU tell ME. where've you been? you're my hands and my feet..."
tears are falling as i call a few people and tell them about the night. my spirit is full of sadness and disappointment. it's about 10pm, and i needed shampoo. i hesitated going in, because i felt like i was a mess, "seriously, elizabeth? you're going to spend MONEY on YOURSELF right after you witnessed the way they live?" was the thoughts i had. i had so many doubts running through my mind, "you can't do this" and "you're not strong enough" being the main ones. "why am i here?" was one, as well.
walking to the checkout line with my few items to purchase, i'm not paying attention to my surroundings. i'm consumed with my own thoughts. i almost don't notice curt [from church] in from of me in line. thankfully he greets me and we get to talking about each other's nights. i'm already on the verge of tears when he asks me what i did. i reply with probably more words than was needed and regret spilling every thought i had. he finishes his transactions and hands me a gift card, walks off as he says "buy them some food". my jaw drops as i'm holding this peice of plastic that will feed the sweet family for the month. shocked, still with tears in my eyes [barely holding them in], i look up at the cashier and she has the same look on her face, as if she just witnessed a robbery. she broke the silence by saying "do you know him?", and i answered "yes... we both go to Lake Pointe". i manage to briefly explain this random act of kindness, and she said "wow... it looks like you were right where God wanted you, huh?"
love,
elizabeth
driving that night, i didn't ask God to provide... i merely asked Him why He hadn't already. why must they suffer? why isn't anyone doing anything about i? and He answered me in the form of conviction, almost immediately...:
"Beloved, YOU tell ME. where've you been? you're my hands and my feet..."
tears are falling as i call a few people and tell them about the night. my spirit is full of sadness and disappointment. it's about 10pm, and i needed shampoo. i hesitated going in, because i felt like i was a mess, "seriously, elizabeth? you're going to spend MONEY on YOURSELF right after you witnessed the way they live?" was the thoughts i had. i had so many doubts running through my mind, "you can't do this" and "you're not strong enough" being the main ones. "why am i here?" was one, as well.
walking to the checkout line with my few items to purchase, i'm not paying attention to my surroundings. i'm consumed with my own thoughts. i almost don't notice curt [from church] in from of me in line. thankfully he greets me and we get to talking about each other's nights. i'm already on the verge of tears when he asks me what i did. i reply with probably more words than was needed and regret spilling every thought i had. he finishes his transactions and hands me a gift card, walks off as he says "buy them some food". my jaw drops as i'm holding this peice of plastic that will feed the sweet family for the month. shocked, still with tears in my eyes [barely holding them in], i look up at the cashier and she has the same look on her face, as if she just witnessed a robbery. she broke the silence by saying "do you know him?", and i answered "yes... we both go to Lake Pointe". i manage to briefly explain this random act of kindness, and she said "wow... it looks like you were right where God wanted you, huh?"
love,
elizabeth
october 14th
last night i met them. the beautiful family that inhabits apartment 201. i walked into the apartment, chest pounding with excitement/nerves and a smile that i could feel with my entire being. the days leading up to this one, i received numerous confirmations from the Lord that this was where i needed to be. my plans to move to africa, to be anywhere but here... were not at all what the Lord intended, and He made that clear. as much as i fought against it, as much as i hated the thought of staying stagnant [or so it seemed], i trust[ed] that He was sovereign.
walking into this apartment, i was greeted by the entire community, it seemed, all in kurundi [the dialect of swahili they speak]. they chattered at me and i just laughed silently with an "oh my goodness" look on my face. as they kept chattering, the mom [cosylia] stayed somewhat in the background. i think she was a bit hesitant to welcome a stranger into her home... and probably a little skeptical of this american girl with crazy hair. as i walk further into their home, i hear a baby crying. i look over and notice a tiny baby on the couch with an "i'm hungry" cry. those of you that know me, know that i inevitably resorted back to the familiarity of feeding a baby [some could say it was comfortable]. as i was feeding this baby [livela is her name], my heart still beating from entering into this unknown. i looked into her brown eyes and she looked right into mine, it seemed. it was then that i felt the Lord's peace. it seems cliche to say "all of my fear seemed to fade", but that was the case. i held her tight until her eyes got heavy, then i walked the 3-month old over to her bassinet [the legs of the bassinet were on the verge of buckling in]. cosylia is in the kitchen and she glances over and smiles, hesitantly, and says "tank you".
i sit down to help valeria [the 11 year old] with her homework... she hands me her paper and says "i hate math". i look at it and ask "can you get a peice of scratch paper and a pencil?" and she runs to get two sheets of notebook paper and a dull pencil. "do you have plenty of school supplies?", i ask. she replies "when my teacher give me some". we attempt to do her math in the dark [she insisted on doing it in the living room, despite the fact that there was no lighting other than the television].
everyone is gathered in the living room at this point; kids screaming, television blaring, cosylia and friends are speaking in kurundi... all while valeria attempts her math. we finally finish, after many failed attempt to get her to focus [how could she?]. i try to ask her a few question regarding life, in general. "do you have food?", i ask... she answers "we have food when our neighbors have leftovers"... she's distracted by listening to her mom's conversation... "she's talking about my father. he in jail. she is saying he might not come back home. he lost his job because he did not show up for work", "why didn't he show up for work?" i asked. "police pulled him over. he's in jail because he did not have li... license? i miss my father"
after talking with her for awhile, it's late and i say my goodbyes. the girls [4, 8 and 11 years] all get their shoes on. i ask them why and they say "we will walk you to your car... it's dangerous".
love,
elizabeth
walking into this apartment, i was greeted by the entire community, it seemed, all in kurundi [the dialect of swahili they speak]. they chattered at me and i just laughed silently with an "oh my goodness" look on my face. as they kept chattering, the mom [cosylia] stayed somewhat in the background. i think she was a bit hesitant to welcome a stranger into her home... and probably a little skeptical of this american girl with crazy hair. as i walk further into their home, i hear a baby crying. i look over and notice a tiny baby on the couch with an "i'm hungry" cry. those of you that know me, know that i inevitably resorted back to the familiarity of feeding a baby [some could say it was comfortable]. as i was feeding this baby [livela is her name], my heart still beating from entering into this unknown. i looked into her brown eyes and she looked right into mine, it seemed. it was then that i felt the Lord's peace. it seems cliche to say "all of my fear seemed to fade", but that was the case. i held her tight until her eyes got heavy, then i walked the 3-month old over to her bassinet [the legs of the bassinet were on the verge of buckling in]. cosylia is in the kitchen and she glances over and smiles, hesitantly, and says "tank you".
i sit down to help valeria [the 11 year old] with her homework... she hands me her paper and says "i hate math". i look at it and ask "can you get a peice of scratch paper and a pencil?" and she runs to get two sheets of notebook paper and a dull pencil. "do you have plenty of school supplies?", i ask. she replies "when my teacher give me some". we attempt to do her math in the dark [she insisted on doing it in the living room, despite the fact that there was no lighting other than the television].
everyone is gathered in the living room at this point; kids screaming, television blaring, cosylia and friends are speaking in kurundi... all while valeria attempts her math. we finally finish, after many failed attempt to get her to focus [how could she?]. i try to ask her a few question regarding life, in general. "do you have food?", i ask... she answers "we have food when our neighbors have leftovers"... she's distracted by listening to her mom's conversation... "she's talking about my father. he in jail. she is saying he might not come back home. he lost his job because he did not show up for work", "why didn't he show up for work?" i asked. "police pulled him over. he's in jail because he did not have li... license? i miss my father"
after talking with her for awhile, it's late and i say my goodbyes. the girls [4, 8 and 11 years] all get their shoes on. i ask them why and they say "we will walk you to your car... it's dangerous".
love,
elizabeth
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