Epilepsy Garden with SIFE

Saturday, May 28, 2011



members of the epileptic community



    Today we worked with the SIFE team to dig a garden for people with epilepsy. The people with epilepsy were wanting to grow the garden because it was the only way they could raise money to support themselves, and grow food to survive. They will be growing it to eat for themselves and sell it to their community. It was really great to get to work with SIFE team to do something that could benefit Swazis in a great way. Ploughing is not really my strongest suit, and there weren't enough shovels, picks, and other tools for everyone to have them at once. A lot of the work was tough, brutal work that the boys and men were doing. Us girls felt useless because we were standing around a lot. I know I was getting stressed about not helping much.



         Me and Chelsea and Claire met a litte girl there, though, and struck up a broken siSwati-English conversation. The girl taught us a song in English words, which we were surprised about. The song says, "God's love is like a circle, a circle big and round, big and round, a circle big and round. God's love is like an ocean, an ocean jumping high, jumping high, an ocean jumping high." The words to the song were so simple but it meant so much to me to hear a Swazi girl sing a song about God's love. He loves us all so much. his love reaches to Swaziland, America, and all around the world. Hearing that little girl sing just really blessed my heart and ministered to me. It was another reminder about how much love the Swazis have for God, that they teach their children about him and his love for us.



Swazi children we played with

I got a chance to meet a lot of members of SIFE team today. Through talking with them I got to hear stories and we got to share our faith and commonalities. God is still the same God to Swazis, Americans, Canadians--everyone. He is working all across the world, and calling people from every continent and nation to do his work.

SIFE team member who lost her father

I loved hearing once of the girls from the SIFE team who was only a couple years older than me telling me about how she can't imagine life without God--how life would be unbearable sometimes without him. She lost her father in 2005, and her attitude was so positive. Whe told me about her loss, I responded in sympathy, but she said, "Oh no, its okay." She went on to explain that death is the way we are with God in heaven, that it is a natural thing that happens. She had such a sense of acceptance that many I have talked to don't have. It was cool getting a different perspective on death and seeing someone so at peace about it. This girl, along with several others I met were also in school to be teachers. These women were bettering themselves and striving to help others. To know I have sisters in Africa that love Godd and share my dream of teaching is amazing.

They were all so excited when I told them I was a Christian, and knew Jesus. Most people in the U.S. don't get so enthused.

Until Then,
Holly Peffer

Okay, so a few thoughts/notes about this blog:

SIFE--I think I explained that SIFE stands for Students in Free Enterprise. It is a business club that many Swazi University students are a part of. We worked a lot with the SIFE team during our time in Swaziland. They were the ones in charge of many of our projects, like the epileptic garden, and giving out the hygiene packages to the schools (that I talked about in one of my first blogs). They are constantly doing things with their community, working to improve life for Swazis. SIFE is an incredible team, and I loved them all. I think I can speak for our team and say we all fell in love with the SIFE team members.

Another thought I had--I was copying my journal and a couple times I made references about God being the same God everywhere. I think it is cool to think that He never changes no matter the time period, or geographic location. He is still the same God. The people may change, and the cultures may be different, but God is steady, always reliable. I shared conversations with Americans, Canadians, and Africans on my trip, and we all had stories about God's amazing power and love, and grace. Something I was thinking while writing this, though, is that the way we experience God from culture to culture and time period to time period is different. Our personalites and backgrounds enable us to see God in an individual way that maybe not everyone has experienced. When we share our experiences, it helps us broaden our view of God. For instance, a Christian like Corrie ten Boom in a concentration camp has experienced God in ways that I never will, and has relied on Him for things I will never have to rely on Him for. Swazis have many stories of every day life where they have relied on God in situations that I will never go through. But I have stories to share with people too that could inspire them. Everyone has a story to tell about God in their lives. We have all experienced him in individualized ways. Share with as many people as you can.





four Swazi girls playing hand games



June 15, 2011- The HIV/AIDS Task Force

Words or pictures cannot do the landscape of Swaziland justice.

Friday, May 27, 2011

"When you give a dinner or a supper, do not ask...your relatives, nor rich neighbors, lest they also invite you back, and you be repaid. But...invite the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind. And you will be blessed." Luke 14:12-14 NKJV

I am writing today about yesterday (Thursday) and* today. Yesterday we went with the HIV/AIDS Task Force to visit HIV/TB patients. It was a real eye-opener to see how many people had AIDS AND  TB. The first house we went to, the man had both diseases. We got to talk to him with the help of a Swazi pastor who spoke English and siSwati that went with us on all the visits. We prayed for him, and sang for him. Then we presented him with a bucket full of food items prepared by the Task Force. When we showed him the food, he was so thankful; he just kept thanking us. The two women who were also in the house kept thanking us as well. The man had been out of work for a while because of the TB, which made him weak. It was a blessing to see how thankful he was just for the small amount of food we brought.

The second lady we visited was a young, single mother. She had three kids, I think. She had AIDS and TB. Who will take care of her kids if she dies? I think this question was going through all of our heads as we visited with her.

The third man we saw absolutely devastated me. He is one of those faces I will remember for the rest of my life. He was sitting outside on a grass mat in the dirt outside a hut. When we talked to him we found out he, like the others, had TB and AIDS. TB is a serious problem in Swaziland. They don't have the proper medical treatment to take care of it, or the proper nutrition to help keep it from becoming a tremendous problem. Often, people will die of TB before they die of AIDS, even though AIDS is the more serious condition medically. So here sat three out of three people of the day with both conditions.  He lived with his stepmother and her family. We found out through our pastor friend who was translating for us, that this family of his actually locked him out of the house. They didn't let him in because they didn't want to become infected. He let us pass around a little medical book of his. In the front, I notice his birth date. The year was 1980. I'm not too good at math, but I know enough to know that means he is only 31 years old. I saw another date in the book, the date he was tested for HIV/AIDS. November 2010. The book was a medical record keeping book. It showed doctor's visits, and was supposed to keep track of when he took the ArVs (Antiretroviral medication). This medication, once started, must be taken every day for the rest of a patient's life at the same time each day. This man was taking his medicine like he should be. Sometimes on an empty stomach. You know those warnings on Tylenol or Ibuprofen labels that say they should be taken with food? Well that is for a reason. So, the man would take his medicine on an empty stomach. Do you know what would happen then? He would throw up. vomit. Regurgitate the pills that were supposed to help him because he couldn't get the food he needed to nourish his body. All because his family locked him outside his house because they didn't want to get infected. This kind of reminds me of the leper colonies in the Bible, the people who were cast off from society because they were "unclean". Or it sort of resembles those out of the ordinary, strange, kind of exceptional people we cast off all the time. Because...they're too old. mentally handicapped. dirty. Muslims. gay. drug users. poor.  ugly. black. white. Hispanic. atheists. sick. unwed mothers.  People are labeled "Unclean". Unfit for society, unnecessary, and then cast off. This man was cast off by his own family. Left to starve and vomit his medicine taken, in the fist place, for a fatal disease. It was really hard to hear that this was this man's life. This is a man living on the same earth as me, breathing in the same air. recycling the same oxygen, created by the same God. But he was living like this. At the end of the day, I get to go home to a guesthouse and eat a hot meal. take a hot shower. have fellowship with friends. sleep in a warm bed. But this man, he will be, as far as I know, outside lying on a mat. To see a human in such despair, in such a hopeless situation was unbearable. I broke down. The moment I heard that he vomited up his antiretroviral drugs I couldn't stop myself. Even if we were in a group. I sucked back the tears as best I could, but they still flowed. I blotted them with my skirt. But I felt anguish in my heart. We presented him with the bucket of food. He was so thankful for it. I was thankful that we could bring him some food. The Task Force visits him regularly, as I understand, so I just hope they are able to continue bringing him food. At the end of our time with each person, we prayed with them and sang. We had been singing "Jesus loves me".  I didn't even want to sing it at that point. We had just heard about a man who threw up his AIDS medication because he was starving, and his family locked him out of his house. Now we were supposed to sing about how much Jesus loved him. Where was any love in this situation? The compassion of the Task Force, yes. Us being there, yes. But what about in general? What about day to day life for this man? Where was God's love? So I just had a really hard time singing "Jesus loves me." I think everyone was having a hard time, because we were all quieter this time around. Our song was weak. I know I wasn't believing what I was singing in that moment. Then, before we left, the man asked when we were coming back to see him.** We all just stood there. What the HECK do you even say to that? The pastor explained that we were just visiting from America. That's about all you can say I guess. I was thinking that I don't know if I will be back. We keep getting asked when we will be back. I don't know if I ever will, but I can't look someone in the eye and say, "I'm not coming back." The whole situation with that man was hard for me to face. I think seeing that man and working with The Luke Commission were the two hardest things for me emotionally. Just trying to take in the amount of HIV/AIDS that is in this country, and seeing it first hand, even affecting little kids is just overwhelming to take in; plus, seeing their living condition and their poverty. Its just so sad.

The rest of the day was easier emotionally. There were still some sad situations, but the rest of the people seemed more hopeful, and more joyful. I think the poverty and living conditions make me feel more sad than HIV because the HIV makes people's lives shorter, but the other things are things they deal with on a day to day basis that make lives miserable. This week so far has been the epitome of an emotional roller coaster because I have seen so much poverty, sickness, disease, hunger, and despair. At the same time I have seen people full of hope, and giving us what they have. They are so happy to see us coming to them. The last man we visited said, "You are like Jesus, he left heaven to come to earth, and you left your beautiful home in America to visit your less fortunate brothers and sisters in Africa." He asked us to thank everyone in America for caring about Africa, and to not forget our suffering brothers and sisters. I couldn't believe he compared us to Jesus. We should be caring about our fellow mankind. Jesus calls us to that, whether at home or overseas. Also, nothing we have done here has been on our own. Everything we have done has been alongside the Swazi organizations already doing God's work here, like the Luke Commission, SIFE, and the Task Force. The Swazis are already hard at work. They are leading the way to aide their people. Its amazing to see what they have been doing here.

Until Then,
Holly Peffer

*I never actually wrote a journal entry about Friday, but I will explain in a blog what we did on that day.    Also, some of this wasn't originally part of my journal, but I added it in to help explain the situation. The same is true with most of the blogs.
** I think this man, just the fact that he wanted to be visited, reminded me of the duty to our shut-ins, and other "cast off" sort of people. How many people just want someone to come visit them? In the words of a Clay Aiken song, "How many people in this world, so needful in this world, how many people are praying for love?"

June 14, 2011- The Luke Commission

Wednesday, May 25, 2011
"You can't live a perfect day without doing something for someone who will never be able to repay you."
              -John Wooden

Today. Wow. There are so many thoughts going through my head about today. I am wide awake even though I feel exhausted...if that makes sense. I have no idea what time it is, though I assume probably like 11 or 12 pm. Its so weird not having a phone to constantly check the time. All I know is its getting late. I got up early this morning and I have to get up early tomorrow...and I'm still up. This journal is going to be more big points, and less detail. First of all, on the way to the bush, (the rural areas) we worked at today for the clinic with the Luke Commission, I got suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. Almost totally out of nowhere. I had a huge lump in my throat, and it got really tight because I was trying to choke back the tears which found there way to my face anyway. I was just thinking about God's calling on my life. For this whole school year now I've been wondering if I was called to do mission work. I guess that's a big reason I came on this trip--to test the waters and see if God was calling me to Africa or something. Coming here didn't make me feel drawn in, or as if I have to come back here to serve. I know some people on the trip are feeling drawn here, and are feeling God speak to them, and confirm their calling to the mission field. I don't have that feeling. Not having it has made me feel like I wasn't as good of a Christian--like why is my heart not drawn to mission work in Africa?  Obviously I have a curiosity for doing work in Africa, and serving God in another country. God placed  some sort of desire for me to travel here to Swaziland, even if I have doubted that He called me, and even if I have been deathly afraid of everything African since I signed my name to that contract. I have some desire, yes, but I don't feel drawn here. And that has been bugging me. But today God gave me a sense of understanding about myself and my calling. Its like he said to me, "its okay not to be called away. It doesn't mean you are less of a Christian, Holly, or less of a person. It means I have a different plan for your life and a purpose I want you to serve." The way some people I know have felt about  going to a foreign country to serve since they were little is the same way I felt about teaching since I can remember. Who placed the desire to teach inside me at age 5? God. Why did he lead me to Mount Vernon to study education? Why have I had a strong desire to be a mom since I was young, and carry a baby doll with me everywhere I went? Why have I had a strong desire to find my husband, and always try to date with that in mind, longing for a person to do ministry with? These are all desires that have been placed in me by God. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God wants me to be a teacher. He wants me to be a mom, and he wants my husband to be a big part of ministry, and for us to work together as a team. Today I got a confirmation that I am called to be a teacher. I finally became okay with my own calling, and my walk with God. He loves me. It doesn't much matter what others around me are doing, where they stand with Christ, or what their calling is. Its okay to feel differently about being in Africa than others that are here. We are all different people, designed for different purposes. So that is the thing God spoke into my life. The other thing that goes along with it is I cannot be silent. I cannot live a quiet life doing nothing for the kingdom. I need to come back to school, and do all I can do to become the best teacher I can be, and go out to kids who don't know love and be Christ to them. The U.S. school systems are my mission field.

 
Okay, that's the big story for today. Other things I thought or realized today:

God is still God, even in the southern hemisphere. Today, a man was praying in siSwati (their main language) and his prayer was so spirit filled. I couldn't understand a word he said, but my heart understood what he was feeling. I prayed my own little prayer along with him. Two people of two different tongues were praying to the same God. I know He heard both of our prayers and felt them deeply. This was an amazing moment for me.

I got the opportunity to hold many Swazi babies in my own arms today. Many were wailing and crying, and screaming, but there was still a peace I had while I was holding them. I can't really describe how I felt when I was holding these precious babies. I got to hold many children and hug them . I found clothes and shoes for many of them. The girls would come in, and I would take a look and guestimate a shoe size and pick out a couple of pairs and hold them up to let them pick. I tried to give them as many choices as possible. It was fun to bring a piece of shoe shopping to these girls who don't even have shoes at all. I felt like, even though I could not communicate with these girls in their language, seeing them smile and point to the shoes they liked best, and make faces at the ones they didn't like helped me get a sense of their personalities and tastes. It was fun and  made the situation a little lighter.

At the same time, I felt so much heaviness in my heart. I have never FELT such a literal heaviness. Not only was the situation so deep and the weight of it emotionally heavy, but there were times when I felt as though something was pressing against my chest and I couldn't lift it off. There were times I had to tell myself to breath because I realized I was standing listening  intently to *Echo as she talked about the situation of some of the people and children in Swaziland. I was just trying to process the information. The day had not even begun and I was already overwhelmed with emotion, feeling tears creep down my face. I kept trying to subtly wipe them away because we were walking around with the whole group, and the patients-to-be were all standing around. I didn't want them to see me bawling my eyes out. So I kept wiping away the tears before they flooded down my face. Echo explained to us the process of HIV/AIDs testing. She told us about the hoards of people that showed up, and how many of them, when given a paper asking if they wished to be tested would respond "no".  It broke my heart to think that some people were afraid to get tested, ashamed to tell their families. Many women, Echo explained, are afraid to tell their husbands they have it, because they will be beaten if they find out. These are people who can't get put on ARVs (Antiretroviral medication taken to slow down the process of AIDs). These drugs can prolong life for up to 10 years. In the States, that's not that long of a time, but in a place where life expectancy is in the late 30's, its a really long time. They need these ARVs, but if they aren't getting tested, they can't be put on the medicine. It touched me, though, when she said some of them would refuse to do it, but when their kids were mentioned, "Why don't you do it for your kids?" they would oftentimes  change their minds to be tested.

At the clinics the Luke Commission do, they don't just test for HIV/AIDs. They have a full service not only to treat the body, (they treat people for all kinds of illnesses), but they treat the spiritual being as well. Each patient is prayed over in a special room, and there is counseling for those people who find out that they do have AIDs. They also show The Passion of the Christ which Echo was sharing with us is something they wanted there. They were showing The Jesus Film but the people requested The Passion. Even the children watch it there. Of course, this would be unheard of in America, the movie is rated "R" and deemed too graphic and violent for little eyes. But in Swaziland, Echo got really quiet and shut the door of the room we were in as she explained this, 98% of the kids outside that door have been beaten to a bloody pulp themselves. The word choice that she used there will never leave me. 98% have been sexually, or physically and most definitely verbally abused. 98%. She said the children watch the screen intently, and the images of Jesus being beaten is not too gory for them to handle, but instead they relate to Him. Again, the thought I had earlier in the school year about "getting" what Christ did for me on the cross reoccured. These children were watching it, and soaking it all in, respecting Him. I know I for one need to start taking it more seriously in my life. Besides the thought about Jesus dying for me, the statistic in itself struck me with a moment of grief. Then she told us that most of the little girls were sexually abused before the age of five. Unbelievable. There are people who live with abuse every day in Swaziland. There are people who live with abuse every day in America too. What am I doing to help? We can't change the fact that someone was abused. But we can help them overcome it and show them Christ's love.

We kept walking around the site, looking at each station Echo and Harry and the Luke Commission use at these clinics. This clinic, and most of them, are set up at schools out in the bush, for people who can't get to the hospital. So there were many school children there. One of the things we saw was a teacher fixing the children some food in a big pot. I thought, "good, at least they do have something to eat." My thought changed though, as Echo began to talk. She shared with us that many of the children were excited to go to school. This was something I had observed. The kids always were always laughingand smiling on their way to school, always very early in the morning. They all walked to school, I noticed. Echo told us many of them walked miles to school. That is something I can't get my head around. Walking to school, first of all. Secondly, walking miles to get anywhere, much less to school. Third, many of them didn't have shoes. Walking miles to school with no shoes. I can't even imagine. I complain about my 8 o'clock class. God help me. Echo then told us that the reason many of them walked to school for so long, and got up so early is because they knew they would get food at school, and that was their only meal of the day. Wow. Emotion overcame me once more and I had to hold back the tears. My cafeteria is open from 7 to 7 on weekdays. I can eat anytime I want. I complain about meat that is sometimes under cooked. God help me. I don't know what to do with this information. I am still trying to process everything I have learned. What do I do with this information? I can't stand by and do nothing. I may not be called to live here permanently; I am called to help. And to live my life in service to God somewhere. In the words of The Lion King, "Circle of Life" "There is more to be seen than can ever be seen, more to do than can ever be done."  

Today, I was wearing a bunch of silly bands around my wrists for the purpose of giving them to the kids. I passed a girl and she pointed to one and said, "its beautiful!" I slipped it off and put it around her wrist. I smiled weakly at her, but it was hard not to cry. She thought it was so beautiful, but it was so simple. We buy packs of silly bands with 25 or more in them. Its just a plastic little band...I only gave her one, but she got so excited. 

One of my favorite things about today was meeting a fourteen year old girl, her name was Nolpomelelo  I know that is misspelled, but it was pronounced "no-pooh-may-lay-low". She and I made a special bond. She kept going around telling everyone about her new friend "Holly".  I will never forget this sweet little girl. She will stay in my heart and prayers as well as the people of Swaziland. I took a picture of her, and I will use it as my reminder.

June 13, 2011, 2nd post- Crossing the border into Swaziland

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

So, today, we crossed the border into Swaziland. Finally. It has been a very long day. It kind of feels like this morning was yesterday or the day before, or some day in the past. We got up and ate breakfast at the Koinonia Inn (guesthouse we stayed in) in J-burg. Then we headed out for 5 hrs. to get to Swaziland. Once here we had to get past the border. We ate lunch around 2:30 at a restaurant, which was pretty good. Today was good because I felt like I made a lot of connections with the other team members from SNU, and some of the team leaders, like Andy and Amy Curry. They have been living in Swaziland for the past year and our our hosts. They were the on-site coordinators for Bethany First Church that took Brent and Michaele's place when they came back to the States (I mentioned this in the first blog). We also met members of SIFE who are in charge of taking care packages to schools. SIFE stands for Students in free enterprise. Its a business club for university students. These students are absolutely incredible people with beautiful hearts for God, and for their people. They are constantly doing projects for their community, and we will be working with them over the course of our stay. One of their main projects is taking hygiene packages to schools. We worked for a while this evening on putting together the packages. The packages consist of a wash cloth, soap, toothbrush, toothpaste, and for girl packages, 5 sanitary pads each. One of the main goals SIFE has with the sanitary pads is teaching girls how to use them, and providing them with the pads. Girls are missing school every day of  their menstrual cycle because they don't have pads. They are therefore, not getting as many days at school, and are missing so much its hard to make up, putting them at a disadvantage against boys and a general disadvantage when they are trying to go to universities and advance to careers. We will be going with the SIFE team one day this week to the schools to help distribute the hygiene packages and educate the children about hygiene. I met one of the women from the team today. Bogenweh. I know that's probably spelled way wrong, but it's pronounced "Bo-gain-way". It was cool to be able to talk to her, and get to know her a little.

The family in charge of the Luke Commission talked to us today about what their clinic does. We will be working with them tomorrow--half of us. We were split in half today, Team A, and Team B. I am on Team A, and that is the team working with the Luke Commission. I'm a little nervous about working with the medical stuff...I'm not that great with that stuff.

Bad things about today were: Realizing I don't have contact with my family and friends. I don't know when/if I will be able to talk to them, and that is REALLY hard. I miss all of them tremendously. I hope I get to talk to them before the trip is over. Also, I realized I didn't bring towels. I did so on purpose, because I misunderstood Joe. He said to bring a couple towels if we wanted that we could leave behind here at the mission. I thought that meant to not bring towels unless we were donating them. Oops. So now I have been drying off with my t shirt. I don't want to ask someone to borrow her towel. I forgot bath stuff too, and I'm dreading living in a room with a bunch of girls. There are five of us in this one room. This should be interesting. I really miss Mike and my family way more than I thought. I just need strength from God to make this week work.

I am determined not to say anything negative about anyone on the trip to anyone else on the trip. That's my personal goal that I am going to try to reach.
I have to be up at 6:30 am tomorrow.

Until Then,
Holly Peffer

June 13, 2011- The first night

May 23, 2011 

"Don't be afraid to take a big step if one is indicated; you can't cross a chasm in two small jumps."  David Lloyd George 

So, its pretty crazy to think that its only 3pm at home, but its like 9pm here in Johannesburg. I just got on a plane and traveled 20 hrs. and I'm here...on the continent of Africa. I'm staying at a Catholic guesthouse, Koinania. We ate dinner with the group from Southern Nazarene University who we'll be working with for the remainder of our time. The other students (from SNU) all seem really nice. I think it will be fun working with them. Its very strange not having contact with anyone from the outside world. Normally I would call or text my mom and grandparents and Mike to let them know I am safe, and just to hear from them, or I would get on facebook to notify everyone I am fine. But here I am, half way around the world, and I haven't contacted them. It is only 3 in the afternoon there, on a Monday. I wonder what they are all up to. I miss everyone. Its going to be a long two weeks with little contact with the ones I love most. I can't wait to see them all again, but I also can't wait to get to know those I'm with here on the trip, and do the work in Swaziland I believe God wants me to do. I'm excited to start this adventure.

So, a couple interesting things today were--exchanging money. The exchange rate is 6.8 so, if you had $100 in cash, you got like $660 in their money. Also, going through customs was intimidating. I mean, nothing happened, but the fact that they were all standing there chattering in a different language in uniforms ready to pull you aside if you looked suspicious was just a little scary. Everyone in our group made it through just fine. phew. Third interesting thing--time change on the air plane. So, we're on a 20 hr. flight, right? In the same seat. With the same people all around. But we're soaring through the sky merrily on our way to...Africa. We are served 3 meals--dinner yesterday (Sunday) then breakfast "this morning" which was really like the middle of the night U.S. time, then lunch this afternoon ( which felt more like breakfast time). We got here (in Johannesburg) around 5ish (their time) so it felt like 11 am at home, but it was starting to get dark here, because it is fall here and it gets dark earlier. If you've traveled outside the country or in a different time zone before, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Such a weird feeling. I feel like I slept the entire time on the plane, but at the same time, like I didn't sleep at all. Oh yeah, and the other thing is the driving. I forgot just about everywhere but the USA drives on the left side of the road and the right side of the car. It was interesting to see first hand. Okay, so that's it for now. I'm going to try to sleep. *Blankie--I miss you dearly. Lil coug--sweet dreams lil buddy.

Until Then,
Holly Peffer

*If you were wondering, blankie is my baby blanket that I always sleep with, but I didn't want to risk losing her in Africa. Lil coug is another special stuffy that I sleep with but didn't take to Africa.

June 11, 2011- the night before the trip, and the first journal of the trip

Congratulations! If you made it through reading yesterday's extremely long post, you can read the rest of these with no problem! Today I will begin telling you about the actual trip, starting with the night before. Some of you reading this may have heard this testimony, like if you were on the trip. If you weren't on the trip, this will catch you up.

So, I moved out of my dorm on Friday, May 20. Then Mike drove me over to Claire's house where I spent Friday and Saturday nights before her parents and sister, Kate, drove us both to the airport on Sunday morning. I had to say goodbye to Mike Saturday morning. I was sad as he pulled out of the Decker's driveway, knowing I wouldn't be able to see him or talk to him hardly at all for two weeks, and that we wouldn't get to see each other very much in the summer months. We had  spent almost every day together for the last 4 months and now we were going to be apart. I went back in their house and journaled my feelings about the trip, explaining what I told you in yesterday's blog.

That night, I went with Claire to her college worship service, Connect. She had been telling me about it for a couple weeks, and she told me I could go with her Saturday night since I would be at her house. She said they would pray over us there, and pray for the trip. Sounded good to me. I wanted all the prayer I could get. We got there, and I met a lot of people. They were all super nice, and super friendly,  and they all swarmed Claire chattering about the trip, asking her questions. She was ecstatic to go and was talking happily back to them. I was sitting there quietly, trying to be pleasant and polite. Claire would introduce me to people and explain that I was going on the trip too. They would smile and shake my hand and act interested. They were all very nice and gracious. But have you ever been a stepchild at your stepparent's family reunion the first year after your parent remarries? I haven't. But I imagine this is kind of what being at Claire's college group felt like to me. Everyone was  trying to get to know the new girl, and care. They were trying desperately.But, admittedly, I felt a little out of place, and perhaps a little sad. I wished I could be at MY church the night before I left. I wish MY church family could surround me, and pray for me, and talk to me about the trip. I wish I could spend the night at MY house, and that MY parents could see me off at the airport. But given the close proximity of the end of the semester to the trip, it couldn't be so. The fellowship before the service ended and the worship portion of the service began. I had never heard any of the songs they played. I tried to read the words and soak in the message, but my mind wandered since I couldn't sing along. I let my gaze sweep the room, and land on unfamiliar faces, and the backs of unfamiliar heads. I watched as unfamiliar hands raised to worship what was beginning to seem to me an unfamiliar God. I say unfamiliar because  I hadn't felt his presence in my life for weeks now. Okay, so, maybe if we're honest, it was more like months. I would stand in chapel, and try to feel something. Occasionally, I would catch a wave of emotion connecting with a guitar riff, or a string of lyrics, a beautiful piano melody  or a powerful drum beat. Sometimes when we took communion, I would try to reflect on the sacrifice of Jesus, and the seriousness of it. I would try to imagine what he looked like on the day he died, on the cross. I would try to feel emotion over it. Try, and, so many times, fail. This of course, troubled me. Why couldn't I feel anything about the sacrifice of our Lord and Savior? Its like I couldn't even grasp what he did on the cross. It didn't even seem real anymore. It seemed like a story that I had been hearing for 19 years. I knew I needed to understand more about Jesus, and what He did for me.Not understand in my mind, but in my heart. Of course, I knew it wasn't "just a story". His death and resurrection and love for all of us is so real, and so personal. But I wasn't getting it anymore, and I knew I wasn't. Everything God-related felt numb. Maybe not totally numb, but the kind of numb you feel when you lose circulation in one of your limbs after sitting a certain way for a long time. Your limb feels heavy, and when you touch it, you're not really feeling anything like the  normal sensation, but instead just dull tingling all over. That's the only way you know the limb is still attached. Dull tingling. So this is kind of how I felt when God things would come up. Not like a sensation I normally feel--love, adoration, warmth and calm assurance that He is there with me, but just a dull realization that He was still with me, and a dull awareness of His presence. Every passion I have felt before was dulled and just barely tingling enough that I knew I was still a Christian. This is how I have felt for months, and not the first time I felt that way. I wrote an entire poem about it over a year ago when I felt the same way. It read it to the church not too long ago. But I was getting tired of feeling like God was not there, like every time I prayed He was not really hearing me, and that He wasn't really working in my life. Now, here I was, in the college service watching these strangers around me praising Him, and obviously feeling something. But I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. I think if you had stabbed me with a knife I would have had trouble squeezing out a tear. Here I was, about to leave for a mission trip in Africa, at a church service surrounded by people full of the love of God, and I was lifeless. I hated feeling that way.  I remembered my question to  Joe a month earlier, "I'm afraid my own heart is not prepared." I had tried to get my heart ready. With as much prayer as I could muster. I should have been praying every single day about at least one aspect of the trip. I prayed a few times fervently, but not nearly enough. I just couldn't get up the willpower to sit down with God and have a serious conversation about Swaziland. The most serious prayers I had about it were a couple of times when Mike and I prayed together about the trip. I think part of it was the fear. Instead of taking my fears about the trip to God and giving them to him, I was ashamed. I kept thinking that maybe I wasn't supposed to be going on the trip, so God was unhappy with me. Maybe I disobeyed him. Maybe going on the trip was all me, all what I wanted. This shame kept me from praying like I should have. Whether I had done enough to prepare my heart or not, here I was, the night before at church, and my heart did not feel prepared. I just wanted out of that service. Away from all these people that were feeling God when I couldn't. It was a while before we got away though. It seemed like an eternity to me.

Finally Claire and I were back in the dark quiet of her car. A song came on, one of my new favorites that she had introduced to me the night before. It was such a beautiful, powerful song, and I will address it separately in another entry when I get to it. So the song came on and I did begin to feel a little emotional. That song was the one thing that made me emotional, and made me realize I do still have a heart for God deep in me somewhere. That's all for another time, though. It came on, and I said what I felt deeply in my heart, "I think we need to pray together". This was the only thing I knew to do is just try to reach God and beg him to reveal himself to me, and beg him to tug at my heart, to beg him to please come on this trip. So Claire said, "I think we should pray right now with this beautiful song playing in the background". So that's what we did. She prayed out loud, then I prayed out loud. I felt a little better, but I was still frustrated with myself and God. On the way home, we had a pretty good talk just about life and love. I always enjoy talking to Claire. Tonight, though, I needed to talk to Mike about what was going on in my heart. I needed to share it with someone, and he is the person that knows the most about the distance I have been feeling from God, and the ups and downs of my relationship with God. So, after greeting Claire's parents I went upstairs to her room and called him up. I let out my frustrations to him, explaining how I felt nothing at the service, and how everyone around me looked so in-tune with God, and about how Claire was so excited about the trip, but that I was feeling so doubtful and unsure. Man I admired Claire so much. She is so full of love, and so peaceful, and joyful. Her heart was so thankful to go on the trip. Why couldn't I be on fire for God like that? Goodness, why couldn't I be on fire for God hardly at all? I started crying about everything. It had been a while since I really cried. It felt kind of good to be able to cry, and it felt good to know that the voice at the other end of the phone cared and wanted to make everything better. Best of all, though, was knowing that the voice at the other end of the phone was connected to a heart that loves God and would pray for me. I was able to feel more peaceful after Mike and I talked. I managed to fall asleep that night and sleep all through the night.

Okay, so here comes my first journal of the trip. These journals aren't eloquently written. They are, after all, just personal notes I made. I am going to be copying the next several blogs straight out of my journal as much word for word as possible. So here we go. This is the part of the trip, by the way, that is like a roller coaster. You know, the part where you are sitting in the seat and you are buckled in, and the attendant working the ride checks your safety bar. Sure enough, its locked in place and you're not going anywhere. You have been waiting for this ride for a very long time and now there's no turning back. You're in for wherever it takes you. Your stomach is full of butterflies, you feel like you could pee a river, and your palms are so sweaty they are slipping off the bar that you are trying to grasp so tightly. Here we go!

May 23, 2011

I am coming to the end of my 20 hr. flight from Washington, D.C. to Johannesburg, South Africa. Its hard to believe we are almost there. The scenery from the plane is already ridiculously  different than in the states. Instead of busy roads with cars travelling along as if ants, and tiny specs representing houses, I now see land. Lots and lots of land, and tiny, winding little dirt roads. There are a few clusters of what appear to be residential areas, but mostly just land. The clouds look different here (of course that is probably weather-related). Anyway, the skies look clear with only a strip of clouds floating against the horizon. On the flight from Columbus to D.C. the clouds covered the sky, all kinds of white, fluffy clouds. Once on our way from D.C. the air below us just looked like a sea of clouds. I can't believe we are almost here. It's been a long flight, but I've done a whole lot of sleeping. I am anxiously awaiting what this day, what this trip, will bring. I have no idea what God has in store for the next two weeks. I will be writing in this journal whenever I get the chance. I'm sure I will have updates at the end of each day.

*Until Then,
Holly Peffer                  

*If you are wondering, about my journal signature, my granddad, John Peffer, passed away in June 2004, when I was twelve and ever since I signed my journals with "Until Then".  This is because he used to sing the old hymn "Until Then" which says "Until then, my heart will go on singing, until then with joy I'll carry on, Until the day my eyes behold the city, until the day God calls me home." God called granddad home, if ever he called anyone home. I will go on singing and living my life the best I can until God calls me home where I will be with him, and granddad again.

June 10, 2011-The journey leading up to the journey

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.