Farewell, Mandela

It is the same with Mandela as it is with pretty much everything:

There is always more to the story than most of us want to acknowledge.

There is much that can be said about Mandela's past (and while we're at it, much can be said about mine and yours as well). His life wasn't one that always stood for peace, yet that is what he is most known for now. He is an undeniable example of the power we each have to change our own story. A life surrendered and transformed has unrivaled potential in the hands of our Creator.

Brené Brown said it perfectly:

“Owning our story can be hard, but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. If we own the story, then we can write the ending.”

Yesterday we mourned the loss of a great man who rewrote not only his own story, but that of the entire nation of South Africa. Mandela drew a line in the sand that forever changed the trajectory of a continent and inspired hope around the globe.

His life makes it impossible to deny the far-reaching ripple effect of even one solitary life, and his legacy reminds us that no one is ever too far gone for a second chance.

Farewell, Mandela. The world stands grateful...

I stand grateful...

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the best gift

I thought nothing could be more incredible than meeting the kids I sponsor through Food for the Hungry. In July, I had the incredible privilege of traveling to Ethiopia with FH to see firsthand the work they are doing there. The whole trip was amazing and insightful — truly mind-blowing to see the depth and breadth of the transformative work FH is engaged in.

And the icing on the cake was getting to meet my kidlets.

Chaltu was so shy. I think the barrage of "whiteys" intimidated her a bit — understandably.

But she warmed up when se opened the small gifts I brought her. Nothing like Lip Smackers and pink sunglasses to get a girl to open up.

Chaltu's mom was overjoyed by the visit, and continually expressed how thankful she is for the support of Food for the Hungry.

Nathinael was playing in the street when I met him. After quick, tight hugs, he led me inside his home. He showed me which bed mat was his and which was his grandma's.

Nathinael was vibrant and engaging — he has such a sweet and joyful disposition, which stood in stark contrast to the drab one-room mud hut he calls home. Our visit went by far too quickly. I could've talked with that kid for ages.

And then there was Akliku.

I had chosen to sponsor him because of his cautious smile and inquisitive eyes — and also because of his age. At 16, I figured he was typically overlooked for younger, "cuter" kids. He had already been waiting for sponsorship for almost 2 years.

Because of his education level, Akliku's English allowed us to fully engage in conversation in a way I hadn't been able to with my younger kids. He told me about his love of soccer, his favorite subject at school (math), and about the impact FH is having in his life. It was my favorite visit simply because of how easily, naturally, and comfortably we were able to interact.

Fast forward 5 months.

I got Christmas cards from each of my sponsored kids. And when I read Akliku's, my breath caught in my throat.

Did you catch that? "I learned about Jesus in Bible."

My heart was overwhelmed with joy and gratitude, and I was more humbled and proud than ever to support the work of Food for the Hungry.

They gave me the best gift I could imagine by sharing Jesus with my sweet Ethiopian kidlets... And Aklilu got to hear the Good News before he aged out of sponsorship eligibility. My heart is full!

Join me in sponsoring a child >>

What's the best gift you've received lately?

{All photos by David Molnar}

pleading not guilty

I was worried I'd grown numb to it. Maybe I'd become calloused. Hardened. Immune. Because poverty wasn't affecting me like it used to.

When I faced it as a teenager—on mission trips to places like Nicaragua and Botswana—my eyes and my heart were opened to things I never knew existed in the world. I was wrecked to discover such unimaginable and inescapable poverty, and it messed with me at a deep level.

I'd return home and make all kinds of extreme commitments. I vowed to be less materialistic. I took radical stances with my "self-absorbed" Christian friends. I soapboxed about America's obsession with excess. I volunteered more, and served wherever and whenever I could.

But as the aftershocks of my experiences with poverty wore off, so did my radical life changes. Until my next mission trip.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

It was a vicious cycle of the best intentions that did nothing more than fuel my need to continually strive to be better, do more, and—somehow, hopefully—be enough.

I'm not saying I didn't genuinely have compassion and conviction and passion to live a life that makes a difference. I did. But it translated into a guilt-driven reaction to the extremes I saw and experienced.

It was a nauseating roller coaster ride as I tried—and failed—to reconcile the poverty I witnessed with the life I lived everyday and to bridge the disparity between my abundance and their lack.

It was years after I moved to South Africa to serve in the poorest region of the country that I finally realized that those things can't be reconciled or bridged. The contrasts will never make sense.

And I mustn't allow my guilt to force-feed my insatiable striving complex. Nor must I allow it to paralyze me into inactivity or apathy.

I had finally learned to step off the roller coaster and actually engage in doing something that would truly make a difference. Not fueled by guilt, but by hope.

I realized that it isn't about being apologetic for what I have, giving everything away, or looking down on how much people spend at Starbucks. It is about stewarding what I have well, using it to serve, strengthen, and love others.

People often ask me how I could live and work for so long in a community of such dire poverty. "Do you just get used to it?" What they are really asking is the same thing I've asked myself: "Did you grow numb?"

And I see now that I didn't. But somewhere in my 13 years of living in Africa, something did change in me.

I stopped feeling guilty about what I had and the "luck" of being born an American, and I started to feel grateful to be part of the solution.

The problems and challenges are enormous, but we can all do something that makes a difference. In our own unique ways, with our own individual passions and talents, we can bring hope into places and hearts that gave up a long time ago.

Not because we feel guilty, but because we are compelled by the hope we ourselves have been given.

What's been your experience with responding to poverty? How can we move past guilt into being part of the solution?

{photos by Daniel White}

gallstones & ethiopia: an update

Some of you probably saw my updates on Twitter and Facebook last week, but I ended up in the ER early Thursday morning. With gallstones. Over 40 of them. o_O I didn't even know it was possible to accrue such a huge collection, but apparently it is. (And it's confirmed: I'm an overachiever.)

I took it easy for a few days until all the pain subsided, and I'm now back to normal. (Well, my normal). Surgery is scheduled for a few weeks from now and I've got meds to bring with me to Ethiopia in case I have another attack there. (Pray with me for that not to happen?)

We leave in a week. A week!

Oh, we are going to host a live Twitter Chat while we're in Ethiopia, and I don't want you to miss it. I figured I'd tell you now so you can mark it down on your calendar or sticky-note or whatever you do to try to remember stuff. Because this you need to remember!

1-Hour Live Twitter Chat with the FH Bloggers Thursday, July 12th 2 PM Eastern / 1 PM Central #FHBloggers

We're going to be answering your questions, sharing our experiences, and giving away local Ethiopian crafts. It's gonna be fun! Help us spread the word on Twitter and Facebook??

Click the text below to tweet it out:

Join the #FHBloggers in Ethiopia for a live Twitter Chat on July 12th! More info: http://bit.ly/N5DgXg

... ... ...

This video is a great introduction to Food for the Hungry. It's less than two minutes long, so push pause on life and watch this real quick:

... ... ...

Click here to see some of the beautiful children up for sponsorship in the communities I'll be visiting. For just $1 a day, you can make sure an Ethiopian child will receive meals, clean water, medical care, and education. More importantly, you can make sure a child knows he or she is loved, valued, and believed in.

Will you join me for the Twitter Chat on July 12th?

out of africa

{Hello? Is this thing on? Can you even hear me over the sound of crickets?} Hi. It's been a while, I know. And while I could never do it justice, I'm gonna try to fill you in on the past couple months...

My first week or so in Africa seemed like an emotional roller coaster. Experiencing so many conflicting emotions, sometimes all at the same time, made my heart feel like she had whiplash. I was glad to be back, and yet familiar things brought equal measures of nostalgia and heartache. The acuteness of it all faded with each passing day. I feel like the length of my trip -- though long in every respect -- was a gift in that it gave me enough time for things to become "normal" again. In a way they hadn't felt in a long time.

I hit the ground running and was extremely busy with work. Long, full, tiring days were a distraction for my heart, which was both good and bad at times. And then, right when He knew I'd need it, God forced me to process rather than push it off.

I am a contributing author to a book being published in September. (Crazy, right?!) My portion of the manuscript had been turned in a month or so before I left, causing the editing process to fall smack in the middle of my time in Africa. Ummm... Wow. It was no coincidence that God had me revisit my memoir-style piece about following Him to and eventually from Africa while actually in Africa. It was h-a-r-d. So very hard. But so, so good.

I really enjoyed the whole editing process, though it was strenuous and heart-stretching in every possible way. I am excited about the new direction my writing took because I worked on it on my first trip back to Africa. And I am really thankful for the forced outlet of processing. My heart is stronger for it.

I had an amazing time with Love Botswana and Bridge for Hope. I am beyond grateful that I get to work with these incredible organizations, and I'm already looking forward to my next trip back to Southern Africa at the end of August.

I'm pretty sure my body has no idea what timezone I'm in. I arrived back in Nashville on Thursday. Less than 24 hours later, I hopped a plane to Oregon to surprise my Best Heart's Friend Cathi with a weekend visit. Her awesome husband helped me plan the whole thing so I could be there for their son's first birthday. Lincoln is my godson, and I didn't want to miss his big day! We had a blast of a weekend, filled with couch time and laughter and hugs and cake. What a gift it was to be there and to have my heart filled up with friends.

And now... I am really happy to be home in Nashville. I love to travel and feel crazy blessed that I get to, but I also love having a home to come back to. I'm a roots and wings girl after all.

From Africa to the west coast and now back in Central Time... Here's to the joys of jet lag (and NyQuil)!

Oh! I've been let out of Twitter purgatory! After 30 days -- with 7 support tickets filed and 0 contact from Twitter -- my account was reactivated just as randomly and explanationlessly as it had been suspended. So weird. (Thank you to all of you who implored the powers-that-be on my behalf!)

Well, I've got a suitcase to unpack and laundry to wash and a roommate to catch up on The Voice with. I'll talk to you again soon.

I promise.

the face of leadership

This is what leadership looks like:

And that is exactly why I'm passionate about leadership development!

[Shout out to Matt who serves with me at Thrive for putting together this fandamntastic video!]

west coasters

If you live along the west coast, I could use your help on something. More details to follow, but for now I'm just trying to gauge who I know on that side of the country. So...

Holla if you live in Washington, Oregon, or California!

turning the tide

A huge part of what we do at Thrive Africa is AIDS prevention. I love our strategy for combating HIV because I know we are making a difference. The fruit speaks for itself. And I don't mind shouting that from my blog. Because it's not a pat on my back, it's a pat on God's.

There are a lot of agencies focusing on the effects of the AIDS crisis--building hospices to care for the dying, establishing orphanages for the scores of children left parentless, and providing services to those infected and affected by HIV. I believe in the urgent need for each one of those things. But I also know if we don't start focusing on the cause of the AIDS crisis, we're going to lose an entire generation in Africa.

The vision God's burned into my heart is to mobilize next generation leaders to live God-honoring lives. The only thing that will truly turn the tide of the AIDS pandemic is lives transformed by the power of the Holy Spirit. Long-lasting behavioral change comes from the work of God in a submitted heart. So we teach thousands of students each week in public schools about the purpose God has for them and how to avoid getting HIV so they can actually fulfill that purpose.

Our reason for teaching students isn’t just to prevent them from getting AIDS. Our primary purpose is to lead them into growing relationships with God. As they grow as Christ-following leaders, they'll learn to make wise choices in every area of their lives.

You can learn more about our AIDS prevention program, how you can invest into Africa, and opportunities to serve with us on Thrive's website.

i am only one, but i am one

"I am only one, but I am one.I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And I will not let what I cannot do interfere with what I can do." -Edward Everett Hale

Everyone can do something in the fight against AIDS. Don't let the enormity of the task keep you from doing the something you can do.

Learn as much as you can, discover what you're passionate about, and throw your full weight into that passion.

• Discover which aspect of the AIDS crisis resonates with your heart. It will be different for different people, and that's okay! You may not know yet what you're passionate about in regards to fighting the AIDS pandemic. So begin by reading about the multi-faceted issues involved. Your heart will be gripped by something as you research. It might be orphan care, or medical intervention, or prevention/abstinence programs. Whatever it is, find your passion.

• Find an organization that shares your passion. Again, this may take some digging. But there are plenty of solid ministries out there targeting the various aspects of AIDS.

• Connect as much as possible with the cause/organization you believe in. The more you know and understand about their vision and strategies, the more you can be a megaphone for them.

• Interact with the organization and its team. Visit their website, comment on their blog posts, ask for specific prayer requests. Passion grows when you truly become part of something. Family members have the same blood in their veins. Join the family. Get the vision coursing through you till you bleed it.

• Use your voice and influence to promote the cause you believe in. You can do that through blog posts, sidebar widgets, twitter updates, and personal conversations. You could commit to a monthly megaphone day on your blog where you highlight different aspects of what’s being done, what the needs are, and opportunities for others to get involved.

• Be passionate about it. Anyone can plug something, but passion is unmistakable. People will know how much you really believe in what you’re saying.

• Pray. Prayer really does change things.

• Contribute financially to support the work that's being done.

• Get off your "but" and go. Drop the excuses and go see for yourself. Travel overseas to not only see the work in action but to participate in it. The best advocates are those who’ve been involved. And I guarantee it will change your life forever.

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

What are you currently doing to help in the fight against AIDS? What are you going to start doing? What other suggestions do you have for ways people can get involved?

you CAN do something

AIDS is a reality you don’t have the luxury to ignore.

Bono wrote in his book On the Move---

6,500 Africans are still dying every day of a preventable, treatable disease, for lack of drugs we can buy at any drugstore. This is not about charity; this is about justice and equality.

Because there’s no way we can look at what’s happening in Africa and, if we’re honest, conclude that deep down, we really accept that Africans are equal to us. Anywhere else in the world, we wouldn’t accept it. Look at what happened in Southeast Asia with the tsunami. 150,000 lives lost to that misnomer of all misnomers, “mother nature.” In Africa 150,000 lives are lost every month. A tsunami every month. And it’s a completely avoidable catastrophe.

There is a continent—Africa—being consumed by flames.I truly believe that when the history books are written, our age will be remembered for three things: the war on terror, the digital revolution, and what we did---or did not do---to put the fire out in Africa.

History, like God, is watching what we do.

Don’t close your eyes or turn your head away. People are dying for you to do something.

What will you do to learn more about the AIDS crisis? What will you do with what you know?

pay it forward

I've never been one for Black Friday shopping. Just thinking about all the crowds and chaos makes me feel an anxiety attack coming on. No thank you! But I love me some internet shopping. Cause I can do that without ever leaving my bed house. Mmhmmm.

Here are some ways you can support Thrive Africa and your online shopping habit---not just on Black Friday but every day:

Buy a Thrive Shirt.

Shop Amazon From Here.

You can donate without actually donating by clicking on this Amazon.com link before making purchases. Thrive gets a small referral fee when you buy anything from Amazon after you follow the link.

Donate a Portion of Your eBay Sales.

Do you sell things on eBay? You can donate 10%-100% of the final sale price to Thrive, for any item you sell. Learn more about setting up your next listing to donate to us.

Who says you have to live in Africa to make a difference in Africa?

three-minute thursday: take 19

Go. I spent four hours in a studio today shooting a new promo video for Thrive. And I've gotta tell you -- I am juiced right now!

I went into this thing feeling kinda nervous about it. Intimidated by it really. I've done this sorta thing before, but never by myself. And for someone who tends to shy away from the proverbial spotlight, being in a literal spotlight all by my lonesome can be pretty nerve-wracking.

But then I got there. And we started brainstorming. And story-boarding. And talking vision.

And everything changed.

Granted, I was still nervous. And some things took more takes than I'd like because I'd speak too fast, or trip over my own words, or wiggle my arms or legs too much. And there were times I had to say "Just wait a sec" while I took a minute to think through what I wanted to say. But the producer always knew when I was ready. He said he could see me get my game face on and inevitably the very next take would be the one.

I can honestly say I had a blast today.

Because I seriously love talking about Thrive Africa.

Done.

i want to get this right

I have wrestled through each of these posts as I've begun telling my story. I've spent hours writing and rewriting. I've had a friend look them over and make changes. I've slept on them and come back to make more edits the next morning. It's been hard to write them because it's forced me to sit in the hurts all over again. It's been difficult because of the responsibility I feel to the ministry I love, and my desire to represent her well. And it's been impossibly hard because of the weight I feel in how I speak about Niel.

I feel an undeniable tension between wanting to remain honoring of my husband and sharing authentically about what happened and how it's affected me.

I'm laboring over every word I write because I need to get this right. I want to get this right.

And yet I know that without me dressing it up at all, the truth is ugly. It's shocking. It's devastating. Even in the simple telling of facts in the most tactful and respectful way possible, it can seem like I'm being malicious.

But that certainly isn't my intention.

I hope my true heart shines through my words even as I share about the worst season of my life. I pray that in my transparency, you can see more than just my pain. I hope you can also see the love I still have for my husband and my unshakable desire to honor him even in this.

It's been a scary thing for me to feel so vulnerable and exposed by putting my raw heart out there for the masses to see and give their two cents on. But while it frightens me, I crave authenticity. It's been the single greatest intentionality of my blog---to foster authentic community. To share transparently and in doing so, make others feel safe, free, and comfortable to be transparent in return.

So I am committed to continue writing honestly and authentically about my story, while remaining mindful of how my words affect and reflect my ministry and my husband.

And I will continue to choose to honor him.

Because ultimately I desire to honor Him.

i packed hope

I don't remember much of what I was thinking the day I arrived in Africa. I was only 19. But I do recall feeling tired and skudgey from my way-too-long flight. I'd crammed everything I thought I'd need into two suitcases---I hoped I hadn't forgotten anything crucial. I was surprised and disappointed to see who was there to meet my flight. The drive to my new home seemed long, and yet passed all too quickly.

I was nervous. Excited. Scared. Happy. Overwhelmed. All mixed into one.

But mostly I was hopeful. I felt confident I was where God wanted me to be, and I hoped He would somehow use me to make a big difference. I had no clue what that would look like. I didn't even know what I wanted to do; I was just there to serve.

And while I know God was clearly calling me to Africa, I'd be lying if I said it was solely my faith in Him that got me there. I think it was a cocktail of faith, naivety, passion, and foolishness that landed me in Africa that day. And I'm absolutely okay with that.

If I'd known how my life would unfold, would I have still boarded that flight? If I'd known all the trials and heartaches I'd face, would I have still followed in faith? If I'd known how many times I'd have to say goodbye to people I love... if I had any clue how the AIDS pandemic would touch my own life... if I foresaw the droughts, fires, and tight finances... if I really knew how big the responsibility and weight would end up being... would I still have been obedient to His call to "Go"?

I'd like to think I would have. But I honestly don't know. My passion and faith may have easily gotten swallowed up by fear and doubt.

Some times more than others, I am grateful He only gives me enough light for the next step.

superbowl monday

I've known the outcome of every Superbowl in recent history before I even watched the game. I don't have ESP or even a magic eight ball. I've just been forced to watch it the day after for as long as I can remember. And even when I try avoiding Facebook or news websites, I inevitably hear who won before I even get to watch. Good thing I can keep a secret.

With the time difference, the game airs in the middle of the night in Africa. So we record it and watch it the next day with our staff team. Superbowl Monday has become one of our family traditions.

(Sadly, all the commercials are replaced with ridiculously tacky ones. So I miss the best part of the game.)

This year I was thrilled that I'd get to watch the Superbowl here in America, commercials and all. But then I discovered that the stuff I had going on over the weekend meant I was going to miss it. Again.

So just like old times, I taped it and watched it tonight. Pizza, beer, game, Arizona losing, and millions wasted spent on thirty-second commercial time slots... What more could I want for my annual Superbowl Monday?

What was the funniest/craziest/weirdest/saddest part of your Superbowl?

fashionably late: my 100 things

Evidently it's tradition in the blogosphere to publish 100 things about yourself for your 100th post. That mile-marker came and went unnoticed here at the Grit. Quite a while ago in fact. So, in honor of my 600th post, I give you my 100 things.

(click on it to read it!)

i am the great wizard

I've received some great submissions for the Make Me Laugh video contest. (I'm smiling just typing that out, thinking about what some of you did!) And I've decided to extend the deadline to next Monday. Because a few of you let me know that circumstances interfered with getting your videos made on time. And really, because, well, I'd rather get in as many laughs as I can.

So if you wish you'd made a video but didn't, now's your chance. If the thought to make one never even crossed your mind, let it cross now: Send me some funny! Don't make me beg.

And if you're stubbornly stickin' to the idea that you're just not humorous, then at least send me a hello. I love seeing your faces and hearing your voices.

(Need a refresher on the rules of the contest? Go here.)

In other news... You can order just about anything these days.

twenty-one: snapshots

My heart could use some African love right now... I guess I'll have to settle for just looking at a snapshot---or twenty-one. These beautiful kids make my heart feel a little stronger.

Describe a snapshot of what your life looks like right now.

sixteen: and license-less

I guess most people get their licenses at sixteen. I was nineteen when I got mine. No, I didn't fail the driving test.

In New York you have to be eighteen to get your full license. And I turned eighteen right before leaving for a month in Africa. Days after I got back, I moved to Texas for a year. So... it didn't happen until I got back to New York just after my nineteenth birthday.

I got my license and moved to Africa. Which means I've driven way more on the wrong left side of the road than on the right.

How about you? When did you get your license? Any stories to share?

seven: out of ten

We had ten amazing interns this year. I know I say every group is amazing, and I swear I'm not lying. The statement is never intended to be a comparison between internship classes; they are all handpicked by God to be here at the time He wants them here, and I love all of them to bits.

Okay, moving on...

Over the years, we've somehow managed to maintain a 30% "return rate" of interns coming back as staff. This year, that stat's been blown out of the water. Seven of the ten are going to be back with us next year as part of our staff team. We are humbled that so many want to return and use their gifts to help us lead Africa to thrive.

The three interns who are stepping into different things---those with non-Thrive next steps---are each heading off to do great things. We are excited with them and for them, and while we'll certainly miss them, they'll always remain part of the Thrive family.

We love our interns and we're so proud of each one of them.

Stop for a second and think: Who are you proud of? Why?