I think I’m finally going to wrap the summer up with this one last post! I wanted to say thanks again to all of you who prayed for me throughout the past eleven weeks; your support really is so wonderful. God has blessed me with lots of great prayer warriors, and I truly am so grateful for that. Thanks for all of the monetary support, care packages, and letters as well; thank you for taking an interest in my life and the lives of the people of Mutare, Zimbabwe. These next few paragraphs give a pretty detailed account of my reactions and feelings dealing with reverse culture shock-I hope and pray that it doesn’t sound like I’m dramatically whining or complaining about being home (because I’m not!), but I wanted to write about everything as I experienced it to note the differences between the American and Shona cultures because it’s been great for me to realize which of my thoughts, actions, and opinions are a product of being a Christian and which of those thoughts, actions, and opinions are simply ingrained in me because I grew up in America. So here goes…
Katherine, Ann Marie, and I were very thankful for safe travels and smooth transitions connecting our four different flights back home. We arrived to the New Orleans airport three Mondays ago with great anticipation and also a hint of nervousness-none of us had ever been in the situation of reuniting with our families after not seeing them for 11 weeks. As we touched down in New Orleans we smiled at each other nervously, trying to reassure each other that there was nothing to be anxious about. Of course we knew that our families would love and accept us no matter how much we had changed over the summer (and no matter how we looked and acted after 40 plus hours of travel!), but the thought of actually seeing them for the first time in so long became a little overwhelming… Would things be the same between us and our family members? What should we tell them first? Who exactly would be waiting for us at the airport and what would be expected of us when we got there? As we practically RAN through the terminal past the same gate from which we had departed nearly three months ago, everything began looking oddly familiar: I looked around and saw lots of white people, familiar food kiosks, and the same exact bench where I had had the infamous “peanut butter incident” weeks ago. We proceeded to the front of the airport and saw a large group of people with tons of signs and a couple of strollers, and we knew that was the group that we’d been waiting so long to meet. As I approached my group of family members (which was composed of five grown-ups and five little ones) and began passing by them at an arm’s length, they all just stared at me until I demanded, “Somebody hug me!” I guess the three of us weren’t the only ones who were unsure of what to do and say upon our “first” meeting 🙂
We greeted everyone (including two sweet friends who had been to Africa with our Wesley team and had returned to America in May), talked briefly, took a few pictures, and dove into the tupper-ware of Katherine’s Mom’s long awaited Chess Squares. After our initial conversations with our loved ones back home, we realized that we still needed to claim our bags, so the three of us linked arms and hurried down the stairs to the baggage claim area “by ourselves” one last time, knowing that we were about to transition from life “on our own” within our close-knit little trio to be reunited with our separate families. The summer was officially over. It was time to go home and begin life in America once more. While these thoughts were exciting, they were also a little daunting at the same time and even a little bit sad.
As I walked to the car in the 1,000 degree heat (yes, we were welcomed back from the dead of winter in Zimbabwe to the peak of summer in the Deep South!), surrounded by three little people on all sides of me, I was happy to be home but was experiencing my first bout of reverse culture shock: the interstate on which we were driving stretched over 12 paved lanes of traffic, my brother-in-law was driving from the driver’s seat on the LEFT side of the car, our car was driving on the RIGHT side of the road, all of the buildings seemed to be so close together, there were no mountains to see, and nothing had been left untouched-everywhere I looked, I saw the fingerprints of man. Nothing seemed natural. Nothing seemed simple. It was almost like watching one of those futuristic-treeless scenery-flying cars movies (maybe like Back to the Future used to seem) in which time travelers are shocked by the new kind of normal environments where people of the present day are living. Obviously, this was no movie and I’m no time traveler, but I didn’t know what else to compare it to.
After being given the task of choosing between a handful of restaurants and finally deciding on Outback Steakhouse, we arrived at the restaurant where the menu seemed to be 8 miles long…good thing I always get the same thing at that place! I ordered a chicken dish with a side of fries, mentally correcting myself before asking for a side order of chips instead. Everything was still very surreal at that point, but I had so much fun being with my family and talking with my sisters’ children who have all grown and changed so much in the past couple of months. Later that night, we made it back to Hattiesburg where I stayed for the next few days. Once I recovered from jet lag, my mom and I drove to Batesville, MS, to see family I hadn’t seen yet-only after making a detour for a quick lunch date in Meridian with two of my close friends! We spent most of that weekend at my Daddy’s farm, picking tomatoes, looking at the progress on his new pond, swimming in my uncle’s pool, and eating a whole lot of good, good food!
After a week of being in the States, I finally made it HOME to Cleveland, MS. I was so so happy to sleep in my own bed! Being back at home has surely been a blessing but it has also come with its challenges; no longer am I able to walk outside and see the sweet faces that I grew to love so much this summer. I can’t go out my front door and walk to the playground to push Joy on the swings, I can’t stop by House 9 and give Precious a hug and do our special handshake, I can’t go visit Janine and hear funny stories of what her girls did that day, and I can’t even persistently search for Jani to do Bible study…haha. Everything I’ve known for the past few months seems like it has disappeared in the blink of an eye, as have the people. I’ve never felt this way after returning from any overseas mission trip, maybe because this one wasn’t really a “trip”-it was more than any of my previous 10-day excursions where I was an outside visitor knowing I would quickly be back home; it was life. We had the blessing of adjusting to the slow pace of life and laid-back, carefree attitudes of the Shona people. We learned to appreciate having down-time and treasured our extended morning quiet times. We took advantage of living in a very small town (smaller than Cleveland if you can believe it :)) by getting to know people at church, seeing them at aerobics, and then running in to them at the grocery store. And most importantly, we learned to be still and listen for the Lord. Being back at home though, so many distractions exist. I now have a cell phone to keep up with and internet access in the next room, rather than a forty-five minute walk away. I have a TV with what feels like hundreds of interesting shows waiting to be watched. I have places to visit, people to see, and doctors appointments to attend (I think the one that wins the prize is my trip to the dermatologist, where I was informed that I’ve developed “African Jungle Rot” on my leg…yep, that’s the scientific name for it). I have stores to shop in and restaurants to eat in…but what about all my Zimbabwean friends? Would they ever pay twenty whole dollars for a pair of pants? Would they order a meal that costs eleven dollars when they could prepare something for much cheaper at home?
I’ve noticed now more than ever before the fact that materialism runs rampant here, and now I’ve realized that it’s such an easy trap to fall into; many people continually want what they don’t have and are willing to spend a great deal to get whatever it is. To lots of people here, clothes matter a whole lot, as does the kind of car you drive and what kind of cell phone you have. This may sound like I’m making a generalization, and I guess maybe I am, but I’m just calling things as I see them, and hope I don’t offend anyone in doing so. I guess my main point is that it was so nice to be living in a place among people who don’t get bogged down by worldly things. Clothes are just a means of covering up, food is just something that sustains the body, and who really needs a car or cell phone? Seeing the incredible faith of these people who have so few material possessions and less earthly distractions, along with WAY less worry and fear in their lives and way MORE living in the present and focusing on the day at hand, really opened my eyes this summer, and, as cheesy as it may be, it’s made me think of the chorus of old Jeremy Camp song that has become my prayer. “Give me Jesus, give me Jesus, you can have all this world, just give me Jesus.” So maybe it’s not the driving on the “right” side of the road and seeing buildings close together that’s what’s so hard to adjust to-maybe it’s the continuing to chase after Jesus and the striving to please Him despite all of the distractions and worldliness with which I’ve been surrounded that has proven to be the bigger challenge in being back in America.
I am very thankful that God has spoken to me and has convicted me of my former ways of thinking and acting before I had the experience of spending my summer in Zimbabwe, but it’d be so easy for me to just forget it all and conform to who I once was and how I once thought, SO I am praying, praying, praying that I will “not conform any longer to the pattern of this world” but that I’ll “be transformed by the renewing of [my] mind” (Romans 12:2). And as it says in Philippians 1:6, I am “being confident of this, that he who began a good work in [me] will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus”! I am fully convinced that God is not finished with me or anyone on this earth yet, and He has so much to teach us-we just have to be willing to learn and have ears to hear Him. We don’t have to go across the world to hear God’s voice or to be changed by Him; all we have to do is stop where we are, make ourselves available to Him, and ask Him to make us more like Him. I’m not sure if this message resonated with anyone, but it’s what I felt led to share; I certainly didn’t mean to sound judgmental or accusatory, so I hope no one takes it that way. For now I’m going to stop typing and leave everyone with this prayer from 1 Thessalonians 5:23-24: “May God himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through. May your whole spirit, soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. The one who calls you is faithful and he will do it.” If you haven’t heard anything else from me this summer, hear this: God is faithful. He is living and active; His Spirit is alive, and He is doing a mighty work in each one of us! Praise and glory be to the mighty God we serve!
Well, for those of you who haven’t heard, I made it back to America safely! But before I tell about our journey home, I want to look back at our last week at Fairfield… We had a lot of “lasts” that week: last time eating lunch at AU, last time to attend Body and Soul aerobics and House Group with Janine, last time leading the Bible study for the boys’ youth group, and of course last visits with all of the mothers and other staff members at Fairfield. Most of the “goodbyes” were ok but some were a little difficult. One goodbye visit that I will probably always remember occurred in House 9 with House Mother Fennie. Fennie was unexpectedly emotional and was extremely sincere in wishing us well, telling us that we were part of the family, etc., but that isn’t what sticks out the most in my mind about our last visit with her.
After we had sat down on Fennie’s comfortable couches in her living room and began making small talk, I asked her about one of the children who lives in her house named Precious. Precious is a very, very sweet little girl who I’d enjoyed playing with since we got to Fairfield. She’s about 9 years old and doesn’t know an abundance of English, but we somehow made a connection. Every time I walked by her house, she would always yell my name from her veranda begging me to stop. As I’d approach the sidewalk of her house, she’d meet me halfway and practically dive into my arms, as long as her little sister Mable didn’t make it to me first! Over the summer, I taught her how to read my watch, and she taught me a special handshake that we’d practice every time I saw her. The day before our last visit with Fennie (the mother in Precious’s house), I had seen Precious outside and she wasn’t as perky as she normally was; she was wearing her pajamas in the middle of the afternoon and informed me that she had been at the “general hospital,” the hospital in town, that day. I wasn’t sure if she knew what she was saying since I knew that any time one of the kids from Fairfield was sick they went to the Mission Hospital and usually left the Mission under special circumstances only (in fact, Jani who lives at Fairfield and is 14 years old has only made the twenty-minute ride into town once in her life, and it was several years ago on a school trip-kids don’t just leave the Mission for no reason). I continued the conversation by asking if she was sick, and when she said “No” I became further confused but dropped it. Just so I could clear things up though, I wanted to ask her mother about it when I saw her.
So when I asked about Precious the next day, Fennie explained that she had in fact taken her to the hospital in town on the previous day. As I sat there confused and concerned, I wanted more of an explanation. “Is she sick?” I inquired, only to be answered with an optimistic “No. But the doctor says she is improving!” Improving? How can she be improving if she isn’t sick in the first place? Is there some kind of language barrier deal that’s keeping me from understanding? Is there something she doesn’t want me to know about? As frustrations began to arise in me since I wasn’t getting an answer I was looking for, I asked frankly, “Why did you take her to the hospital if she wasn’t sick?” The answer that followed made my heart sink: “We go to general hospital to let them take her blood and fluids for the examinations. If she is doing ok, she only sees the nurse, and she sees the doctor only if she is not ok.” The verb tenses she was using insinuated that this was a regular thing. She continued, “Yes, she is doing quite well and is improving. The only time she might have some problems is when I go on leave and someone else gives her the medicine some minutes late.” Oh no…the only medicine I know of that is not completely effective when it’s not given exactly 12 hours apart, down to the minute, is ARV’s. Please don’t tell me that my girl is HIV positive! Well, Fennie never came out and said it, but by the end of the conversation, I knew what I feared about Precious was true. I bit my lip and fought back tears as the visit continued, unable to process anything else she said. I left Fennie’s house in a stupor after she sang and prayed with us, being very upset by the news I had just heard.
Why did Precious have to be HIV positive? Why was I just now finding out about it? What could I do to help the situation, and how could I possibly leave in two days, not being able to check on one of the children I’d grown close to and ensure that she was ok? All of these questions were coursing through my mind until I was reminded of the lesson that God had taught me (and apparently is still having to teach me!) through my being hospitalized at the mission at the beginning of the summer. Sometimes we don’t understand things, but all we have to do is trust God (Proverbs 3:5). We have to believe Him, take Him at His word and not spend our time and energy worrying or trying to figure things out. Yes, I could’ve wasted my last two days in Africa by being in a pit of despair and by worrying about the outcome and future of this precious child, but why would I do that? I obviously couldn’t fix the situation and realized that there was no way for me to be in control of it, so I decided to step back, take the worrisome thoughts captive, and let God be God.
I think it was natural for me to be upset by the news, but if there was anything I had been learning in the weeks prior to hearing it, it was that God is in control and we can trust Him. He alone is the Sovereign God, and we have the privilege of putting our faith in Him! So instead of worrying about things and acting like we are “in charge,” we should humble ourselves before the Lord. We need to humbly recognize that God is in control and that His ways and thoughts are much higher than ours. I chose to believe that truth from Isaiah, and I took heed to the verse from 1 Peter 5:7 that tells us to “cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” I am so thankful that we have such a loving God who wants to and is more than able of taking care of all of His children! I was able to leave Fairfield a few days later knowing that God would keep Precious in good hands as we traveled back home, and I knew that I could trust in His plans for her life.
After visiting with everyone else on staff and having a little “party” for the kids the day before we left, complete with chips, sweets, singing, dancing, and lots of hugs, we knew that it was time to leave and headed to the airport, praying that God would bring us back when the time was right!
Hello everyone! It’s crazy to realize that this is most likely the last blog post I’ll be sending from Africa. We leave Mutare early next Sunday (July 29) morning and are scheduled to arrive in New Orleans on Monday afternoon, so prayers for safe travel during that time would be most appreciated 🙂
Since my last post we have been doing our regular things like working on finishing up the Life Books (we did the eighth house on Friday!), getting all of the information for the staff directory (we only have one more person left to track down!), doing homework with the Grade 7 and Form 1 kids at night, and of course playing with the kids. On Saturday we travelled up to the Bvumba Mountains one last time-for this trip anyway-to get some cheesecake for Ann Marie’s birthday, and it was soooo delicious! Sunday was Ann Marie’s actual birthday, and I think she’s had enough “Happy Birthdays” sung to her to last her the rest of her life! And who knew that the “Happy Birthday Song” has an additional three verses?? To top off a wonderful Sunday afternoon of playing with the kids and visiting our dear friends Juliet, Mary, Angela, and Agatha, we were invited by Cecillia to come have her cheesy-rice bake/butternut soup meal, which is reason enough to come to Zimbabwe if you ask me 🙂
Overall, we’ve had a really, really great last few days and are excited to enjoy the remaining days of our trip. It will be very hard to leave all our friends here, especially when they’re already saying things like “We’ll be sad when you leave because you are now a part of our family” and “We will miss you, Daughters,” so we’d all appreciate prayers during our last days here as we say goodbye to everyone. Thanks so much for all of the continuous prayers and support all of you have given to me; I’ve been so blessed to have so many like-minded people praying for me and encouraging me throughout this summer. I plan to update the blog once I get back-well after I recover from jetlag I guess!-to let everyone know I made it back safely and whatnot, so you can look for a post sometime next week. Thanks again for keeping up with me and for praying, and I’ll look forward to seeing everyone Stateside!
charlsiehaire 