Hello, friends. I am blogging to tell you my story about Swaziland. About a country in Africa that is around the third highest HIV/Aids infected in the world. About a place that I was afraid to go into. This is the story of my journey, from beginning to end. I want to share with you the things God spoke into my heart and life while I was out of the country. I kept a detailed journal the 17 days I was away, and I am going to copy it as much verbatim as possible so you can see my thoughts and feelings as I journeyed in Swaziland. I will first give you a little intro here about why I chose to go on the trip and what happened before the trip took place.
So, about three years ago, or maybe four, the choir at Grace Nazarene church did an Easter cantata, as we usually do annually. I was in it. At the end of the cantata, was a song, I recognized as being made popular by the Newsboys, "He Reigns". The song was my favorite piece in the cantata, because the message is so powerful. It says, "All God's children singing glory glory, hallelujah, he reigns." I had this image in my head when we would sing the song of this huge circle of people from all over the world holding hands and singing these words to God. I was thinking about how incredible it is that God is so big that so many people serve him, no matter their race, background, language,or geographic location. People everywhere know that God is the true God. So this idea of global Christianity was in my head. I now had this picture of global worship and service to God. Last year, I finally took my idea and created a painting, which some of you have seen. The thought of meeting other people from God's earth was on my mind. I always wanted the chance to meet people from other parts of the world, especially after singing that song in the cantata.
Then I went off to college at MVNU. At first I was an Integrated Language Arts major, which is fancy for English teacher. I was having a conversation with one of my friends about life, and school, and career choices. She was talking about teaching ESL (English as a Second Language) in a foreign country. Then this idea popped into my head that maybe I could go to a foreign country once I got my degree and teach. Maybe God wanted more for me than to lead a simple, quiet life teaching at a Kentucky public school. After all, I have felt His hand on my life from an early age, it would only make sense that He would have something huge in store for me like serving as a missionary. So I turned the idea around in my head. I prayed about it, I told my mom about the possibility, and to my best friend, Katie. I didn't really particularly like the idea though, to be honest. When missionaries used to come to camp and talk or I would hear about it when I was little, I never really thought the idea sounding appealing. Some kids were excited, and lots of missionaries were called when they were just kids. But not me. I didn't feel that call. I wanted to be a teacher more than anything in the world. Teaching was like my dream job. I always knew exactly what I wanted. Grow up, go to college, and be a teacher. But now I had this wild idea that I may go at least short term to teach in a foreign country. But I didn't feel passionate about it. I was unsure about the idea. I wanted some guidance. I wanted a chance to test out the idea of living in a foreign country before I made a decision. Maybe I would get to take a trip sometime in college...
"Sometime" came in February when Brent and Michaele LaVigne spoke in our chapel about living in Swaziland for a year. They were from Bethany First Church in Oklahoma. The church is partnering with the Nazarene church in Swaziland for ten years, and Brent an Michaele were the on-site coordinators from Bethany First Naz. They shared their stories with us about Swaziland, and showed us pictures. They told us about an opportunity we had to go on the trip. At the end of chapel I thought, "Here it is, here is a trip to Africa. This is my chance to go and find out what its like."
I talked to my friend Claire, who I had just met. Somehow I found out she wanted to go on the trip too. We went to an interest meeting together. Our chaplain, Scott Peterson, told us about the trip, the more he spoke, the more I thought this was a trip I needed to look into. The thing was we had to give an answer about whether or not we were going by the next week. The other catch-it was $3700 to go. So, I had to estimate if I could come up with that amount of money by the time of the trip. And I had to know in a week. That's quite a lot of pressure. After the meeting, me and Claire both got really excited. But we knew the decision couldn't be made on our own. So we went back to our prayer room. We both prayed aloud about the trip asking God to show us if He wanted us to take the trip and asking Him to provide the money if it was His will to go. The next day I talked to my parents. I told them I wanted to go, and they agreed that I could. I told my grandparents, and Katie that I was going to Africa.
Everyone got a little nervous. Everyone asked lots of questions. Lots and lots of questions. They were questions I couldn't answer. The more people asked questions, and the more questions that I couldn't answer, the more nervous I got. Apprehension closed in around me. Other people going on the trip were getting excited. REALLY excited. I was just getting more nervous. I had already agreed to go though, and once we signed our paper, the money had to be payed whether or not we went. There was no way I was going to get up $3700 to go on a trip and then not go. Or commit to that amount of money, decide not to go, and still have to scrape to come up with it. So I was stuck. I had to go. What had I gotten myself into? I should be grateful to God for the opportunity to go on a trip like this. Its not every day that you get to go to Africa. But I was scared. Scared of the unknown. Scared of coming up with the money. I was disappointed with the group that went too. I didn't know any of them very well at all, and from what I could tell at least four of them were already a clique at school. "Great," I thought, "Now they will hang out with each other since they already know each other, and I won't get to know any of them...and we will have an awkward group." All these worries were going on in my head. But I tried not to give voice to any of them. When people asked about the trip I would pull out a smile and talk about the great opportunity that it was. I would say I was nervous, but also excited. If they only knew who worried or anxious...
The end of March was spring break. We were supposed to have our list of names and addresses made up by this time, ready to bring back to Rochel, the secretary to the campus ministries office. I came back from spring break. I didn't have my list of names and addresses. Who on earth was I supposed to ask for money? I hate asking for money. I really hate it. Plus, I just graduated from high school last year, and people sent me money for that. Then, at church, they had me a going away party, and people brought me more stuff. I did not want to ask my church, certainly, for money.
I talked to my mom a couple of times about the list of names. Neither of us knew who to send my letters to. By this point the whole group of us going on the trip were meeting together once a week to talk about the trip. Joe Noonan, our trip leader was asking for updates. When he started talking about money and support letters, my stomach would churn and I would squirm a little in my seat. I could feel my face getting hot and I just wanted to crawl under a chair or vanish out the door. I hadn't given Rochel my list of names. I had no money what-so-ever paid towards the trip. Swaziland was the last thing on my to-do list.
Right before Easter break, in April, we had a meeting. I remember Joe saying, "If you haven't sent out your support letters yet, then not only does Jesus have to die and be resurrected over this break, but you have to get your names in." Part of me was relieved that he was making this announcement to the entire group. Maybe this meant that other people hadn't turned theirs in yet either. There's something about not being in something alone that brings hope to a situation. But the other part of me was so worried. The pressure was mounting. Now there was so much to do. One other relief was I had my passport. I took care of that a long time before. I had it expedited and everything to ensure I had it in plenty of time. Some people didn't get theirs until right before the trip. Getting a passport had proved to be a big process. Thank God I had that out of the way.
Earlier in the same meeting, Joe asked us what worries we had about the trip. The room was silent. My head wasn't though. It just swarmed with ideas. I was worried about getting my letters out in time and getting money for the trip. I was worried that I didn't have any shots yet and hadn't taken the malaria pills, and had no doctor, or didn't know how to get to a doctor that could give me shots. I was worried that I would cut myself and someone would bleed on me and I would get HIV, or someone would cough in my face and I would get TB. I was worried that I would mess up while we were working, and do something wrong and Joe would get mad at me, or someone would yell at me. I was worried that our team wouldn't get along. I was worried that the only person I felt close to on the trip was Claire, and that somehow she would get closer to the other girls on the trip and I would be left out. OR that people wouldn't like me. What if the kids didn't like me? What if they didn't want to be around me? What if...worse fear of all--I wasn't called to be on the trip? What if God didn't want me to go, and he was not happy with me for going, and I couldn't feel his presence at all on the trip. What if my heart was cold and I wouldn't let him in to work in me? This was a real fear, a genuine, big fear that I had. I was sick with fear and, well, dread. This semester was a semester from heck. I felt like I had overdosed on stress, and was just pushing through one thing after the other just to get it over with. One class. One project. One choir practice. One Swaziland meeting. One test. One chapel. Skipping this class to do that project. Skipping lunch to do math homework. Staying up late to finish a paper. Getting up early to finish a log entry. Calculating what class I could miss and still survive, what thing I could not turn in just to get another thing done that was worth more points. All of these worries and these stresses from school were just swirling around my head, colliding at 100 miles per hour. I needed it all to stop. I needed peace. But I couldn't find peace. Preparing for this trip was making things more stressful, because it brought on all its worries of its own. So when Joe asked what we were worried about, and the room was silent, I didn't know where to start. I didn't want to say anything out loud. I would just sound stupid. All these other people in the room seemed to have it together. They seemed to know the answers. I didn't want to ask anything. But I had to ask something. So I started, "I'm just worried my own heart is not prepared." I was thinking maybe at least Joe and the others would pray for me if I said this, even if there wasn't a solution. Then I found myself saying out loud, "And I'm a little worried about the language barrier." What the heck? Where did that come from? That was not even a legitimate worry I had...its like it just suddenly came out. I don't even remember what Joe said to answer my question. I just remember when he dismissed us, I wanted nothing more than to get out of that room. I knew I had letters to get ready, and a lot to do. I had a heavy heart.
Every time I would think about everything, and get panicked, I would talk to Mike. Somehow he managed to keep me sane. Who knows how. But somehow I managed to function as a relatively normal human being and make it to the end of the semester. We prayed together a few times about the trip. Praying about it and talking to him about it was the only way I know of that I released my anxiety. He made me feel better about it. I was still worried, but somehow a rational voice does wonders in times like this. I made it through finals week. Finally. Its like the best way to describe it is a parade I think. Classes, choirs, clubs, homework, friends, field, and everything was lined up, each representing a float. They paraded down "Semester Street" Some of the floats were sloppy and unfinished, but they were floats in the parade, nonetheless. Some were more important than others, and somehow, during the parade, they all got out of sequence and out of step and the whole parade was a disaster. But then SMACK! the first float smashed into a big building right there. All the other floats followed suit and crashed into the back of the other. The parade ended that way. It was a sorry parade, but now it was over. Now, me, as mayor, could go and assess the damage. I threw away all the bad stuff. But kept the good. Now the street was clear and lying in frnt of me was only one giant float, the Swaziland float. So, now I could look at Swaziland, and clear my head.
So, finally, two days before the trip, I was finally excited. What's done was done. I had eventually sent my letters out. I decided to send them to people from church after all. They are, after all, my family, and the ones that usually supported me through everything. The worst thing they could do would choose not to donate anything. At least if I sent the letters, they would be aware of the trip and could pray for me. That was the most important thing anyway. Joe had said to at least give someone the chance to throw the letters away. So I did. That was settled, and the financial matter was in God's hands. Also, I talked to other people, and hardly any of them had gotten extra shots, plus the school nurse said there were no shots I needed updated on, so I felt better about that. So now, I just needed to go on the trip. This is where the worrying, and preliminary things stop and the trip begins.
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