The Silent Page

Today is the first day I have felt somewhat normal in weeks. Many. Weeks. Since I returned from Austria at the beginning of this year, I have been plagued with near debilitating medical issues. I even thought I might not be able to go to Bulembu. Thankfully, a diagnosis was made and medicine was prescribed. But it wasn’t the right solution, and I have since become a guinea pig to doctor’s trying to find the right cocktail that will do the trick. In the meantime, there are days when I can barely get out of bed. Today is the first day I haven’t had a moderately painful headache or full-blown migraine in more than a month. Remnants of PTSD crept back into my life creating anxiety that made me fearful to even leave my home.

And work? Ha. Forget work. If there was enough energy to make it downstairs, I’d consider that a good day. There have been a few projects here and there, for which I am thankful. But my blog…

I consider this blog to be the window to my soul. I know God has called me to write, and I don’t mind opening the shades so people can get a glimpse inside. But I’m the type of writer who believes that writing just for writing’s sake is ineffective and pointless. I’m reminded of the story of Bartimaeus, the blind beggar. When he heard that Jesus was coming, he tried to position himself close enough but the crowd was too much. So, he yelled, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” The crowd told him to be quiet but Bartimaeus only yelled louder. When Jesus heard his cry, he called him over and asked him what he wanted. He replied, “My rabbi, I want to see.” Instantly, Bartimaeus was healed, and he followed Jesus. (Mark 10:46-52)

Bartimaeus spoke when he needed to and when it mattered most. And when everything was on the line, he didn’t give up. I liken myself to Bartimaeus when it comes to writing. I write only when I feel there’s something important to say. I can’t blog just to blog. I must make a difference. What I write must matter to the reader. Otherwise, why bother? Bartimaeus believed Jesus would heal him if he just yelled loud enough.

This is where the similarities between me and Bart end. I feel like I have been screaming at the top of my lungs, but Jesus hasn’t been listening. Yes, I know in my head that God always hears us. Moving that knowledge about 12 inches lower to my heart is a different story. When depression takes over, you stop believing in everything and everyone, including yourself.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve opened up my blog in the last three weeks, wanting desperately to write something that matters. Instead, I would just wait; not for inspiration but for death to wash over me because I don’t have the courage to do it myself. So, another day would pass and another page would remain silent.

Until today when there is a glimmer of hope. But I’ve seen this movie before. And I know how it ends. I wonder how long the page will remain silent this time.

Journey to Bulembu: A Pandora’s Box Part II

This is Part II of Monique’s amazing Journey To Bulembu. Enjoy and be inspired. I know I am!!

Theresia and I spent two nights in Johannesburg before we met the rest of the team, which consisted of Scott, Michelle, Vange and Genesa, all from Canada. Our driver was Zwele, a native Swazi. As excited as I was, I immediately began having doubts in the van. The ride to Bulembu was long, and while everyone was chatting with one another, I couldn’t read their lips. They sat in front of me and behind me, and trying to read their lips would have been worse than watching a tennis match between six people in a dark closet. Doubts kept creeping back into my thoughts, whispering, “You don’t belong here, Monique!” But I refused to believe the lies this time!

Genesa, Monique, Michelle, Theresia and Vange in Bulembu Country Lodge

Once we made our bathroom break, I shared with the others about my hearing loss and explained that I have to read lips. They were all genuinely surprised that I had hearing problems, and promised to do whatever they could to make sure I could hear and see what they were saying.

Finally arriving in Bulembu felt like a homecoming. I was meeting in person people I had already come to know via email. The lovely Rose Woller took us to the country lodge where we had some drinks and got to know one another more. Suddenly, there were more people talking with one another and over one another, laughing and sharing about things I couldn’t hear. On top of that, they were all speaking English, my second language. Once again, I felt alone in a crowded room.

Four of us girls on the team shared a lovely cottage. We started heading toward what would be our home for the week. Because of some knee problems, I walk much slower. The others walked ahead, not realizing I had fallen behind. I ended up getting completely lost and fear gripped my heart. Here I was in a foreign land, couldn’t hear if someone was calling my name or not and completely lost. But I kept the tears to myself and eventually found my way home.

Other occasions found me in a similar situation where others were talking, and I was missing pertinent information because of my hearing loss. It seemed to me at the time, bigger was not possible. I began to weep uncontrollably. The girls surrounded me with concern as I explained more of my story to those unfamiliar with it. To share such intimate details with strangers was also something I wasn’t expecting to do but the words – and tears – just flowed out of me in part to bring comfort to myself but also to educate others about the feeling of not belonging. And much to my surprise again, no one rejected me. I hoped this issue would be over and done, and I wouldn’t have to deal with it again.

The next day provided tours of the orphan homes, including Bulembu Babies. The Homes Manager, Ruth Boys, conducted the tour. We all learned so much information about how the orphans are cared for. When we arrived at the Welcome Centre, I was reminded of my time in the boarding school. Sitting in the room was a beautiful young lady who greeted us with smiles and bashfulness. I felt a strange connection with her. Later, Ruth explained that the young girl is deaf and has some mental challenges. Unlike the other children who will go into an orphan home to be raised, this teenager will remain living at the Welcome Centre where she will be cared for by Auntie Rose and others who work with new arrivals.

At this point, I broke. All the tears and pain of my childhood, my hearing loss, growing up away from my family, my own isolation, they all welled up to the surface and poured out of me. I understood then that this is why I came to Bulembu: to merge past, present and future in a way that brings healing to me and to the children of Bulembu.

The children who come to Bulembu stay in the Welcome Centre until they are physically and emotionally well enough to move into an orphan home with new “siblings” and an auntie. Each child is given a soft toy that is theirs to keep along with new bedding and clothing. The presentation I had previously given at a school in the Netherlands netted a huge donation of soft toys. In fact, there are so many toys that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to ship them all to Bulembu! But knowing now how important these toys are for the children and their adjustment time made me more determined than ever. And I had peace knowing I had found my purpose in helping Bulembu’s children.

The following day, our team was taken on an amazing tour through Bulembu’s Community Enterprises. Our tour guide, Nathi, grew up in Bulembu. He knew the town when it was bustling with 10,000 people and he knew the town when the population fell to just 50. He sees the resurgence in Bulembu, and had great pride in showing us what’s new in his hometown. Along this tour came my next challenge: Walking. Bulembu is very hilly and the streets are not well paved. The sun was burning bright and the temperature reminded us that summer was still in full swing. My titanium-plated-knees wouldn’t have me walking for long! But I was determined to stay with the group. I wanted to belong. Yet Rose made sure to have a vehicle at the ready for me if I needed it. And need it, I did! Theresia rode back to the lodge with me, and I was fully expecting the others to be upset with me. But they all showed great concern for me, and I felt another victory in knowing I was still part of the group.

One of our volunteer projects was scrubbing paint off the wall of one of the school buildings. It was exhausting work but it was worth the pain and the heat! However, when we were scheduled to return the next day, my knees had other ideas. Rose gave me the opportunity to work at the Creativity Center instead. The Swazi women work in the Creativity Center from 7:00 am until 5:00 pm every single day. They labor on the most beautiful creations, and they do it with joy. Most of them spoke only Siswati, which I don’t speak! But we all laughed and had a wonderful time together. When it was time for me to return to the cottage at the end of the day, Jeanne and the other ladies gathered around me, laid hands on me and prayed. Despite the language barrier, I truly felt like I belonged and the peace of God.

When I returned to the cottage, I shared this experience with my roommates, including more fears of not fitting in and how the Swazi women helped erase those fears, if only momentarily. In the midst of our conversation, Vange, Michelle and Theresia gathered around me and began to pray for me. The love they shared in those moments brought a flood of emotion that I wasn’t expecting. With eyes closed and praying to God, I didn’t need to see their lips to hear what they were saying. It was loud and clear in their touch and willingness to pray for ME!

In addition to the volunteer work we did in Bulembu, our team also went on an overnight Safari. I knew right away that this would be a challenge. The operative word here is “dark”. How in the world would I be able to read lips in the dark? The daylight brought its own frustrations as we walked to and from our lodging. The path leading to the hut wasn’t wide enough for two people to walk side-by-side. So, as we walked in single file, I knew the others were talking but I couldn’t hear anything. I knew they weren’t talking about me, but in those moments, I felt disconnected. My frustration was set aside though while we were in the “bush” at Mkhaya Game Reserve. It provided such a beautiful setting and to be with nature and the wild animals made the safari enjoyable.

The team (minus Scott) ready for Safari in Mkhaya Game Reserve!

As often as I felt connected to the group, I felt disconnected just as much. My frustrations came out again as our visit to Bulembu came to an end. My biggest frustration was that I had to keep reminding everyone that I needed to read lips. The team complimented me on my terrific English-speaking abilities, and that I seemed to be enjoying myself and at ease. They would simply forget that I couldn’t hear them. I suppose if they’re not around this type of situation a lot it might indeed be easy to forget. But I accepted what they were saying, and I know I tried my best. Through all of this, I have discovered my purpose in Bulembu but I have also come to realize that I just need to be myself and let others be responsible for how they communicate with me – face-to-face. I may have had to learn the hard way, but they also learned the hard way. Sometimes the hard way paves a softer path to the future.

And I’m ready to face the future, whatever it holds. I know I belong. I know I can handle things in ways I never imagined before. I felt love through prayer and companionship. And just like the people in Bulembu, I now have hope for a wonderful future.

Journey to Bulembu: Reflections

NOTE: This was written yesterday before we actually left Bulembu but Internet access was nearly impossible. So, I am posting this as it was written…

The heat is relentless as the sun reminds me it isn’t quite ready to release its grip on summer. Sitting outside the Bulembu Country Lodge under the protective covering of a tree, I am reflecting on the last week. The Lodge is empty save for a few Swazi’s who are preparing for lunchtime guests. My roommates, Monique, Michelle and Vange, are all off on their special project assignments. My special project is this: writing. I am tasked with continuing to tell the story of Bulembu; the assignment handed to me by both God and some of the staff of Bulembu Ministries Swaziland.

My first thoughts return to the men singing to me through my iPod, The Canadian Tenors. I am here because of them. It was their music that first awakened a sleeping and broken heart, bringing to me emotions I thought were long gone after the events of 9/11 ripped them from my soul. At the time, all I ever wanted to do was to say thank you to them. The only way I knew how to do that was to write about and for them.

But once my heart began beating again, they reached further and opened my eyes to the plight of the citizens of Bulembu. The first time I interviewed the Tenors last June, they shared deeply personal and profound stories of their visit to Bulembu nearly two years earlier. Clifton had not yet joined the group and was anxiously awaiting his first trip. I recall being so touched at the pure emotion in Remigio as he expressed what he witnessed, and what he hoped for the people he’d come to love. Victor kept explaining that his life and that of his Tenor brothers had been forever changed. Fraser made it clear that what he saw was both lovely and heartbreaking. From each of them, I felt a longing to make a difference in Bulembu. And the one word that kept coming back to me through our conversation was joy. As difficult as things were for the Swazi people, all of them, the Tenors told me, had enormous joy.

I know their visit to Bulembu was exceptional but I simply couldn’t fathom the joy they spoke of. While I was touched by what each of them shared, I’m not sure I really got it. But as time passed, my heart kept getting pulled in the direction of Swaziland and specifically, Bulembu. Had what the Tenors seen really been all that bad? I watched their second trip to Bulembu unfold via YouTube, and what they shared confirmed it for me. While so much progress had been made in the two years since their last visit, so much more still needed to be accomplished. As I watched, I began to discover that I had fallen in love with a group of people I’d never met before, and I knew I had to keep telling their story.

God opened the door for me to come to Bulembu to experience it for myself. I remember thinking not long after we’d arrived that this place was so ugly yet so beautiful. The massive mountains that surround the area look as if they’re close enough for you to reach out your hand and touch them. The crisp, green trees that dog the landscape, the abundance of variety of trees and plants, all of it showcasing God’s handiwork and impeccable design.

Look away from the landscape for a moment and your eyes will be greeted by a landscape of buildings at various stages of disrepair, weeds that have overgrown in unkempt areas, roads with too many potholes, and ghosts of a painful past.

Inside lives hope. Amidst the heartache of success followed by too much physical, emotional and mental torture is a community that has been given a mulligan. The orphans that come here are plentiful but they are in a place where love abounds and healing is taking place. There aren’t many middle-aged people. Many of them died off due to the ravages of HIV/AIDS. Most of the residents here are either older or younger than 40. You won’t see kids wearing Polo’s or Nike’s. If they are wearing name brands, they’re often either too small or dirty or both. And there’s never a rush-hour traffic jam unless you count the hundreds of people who walk everywhere they go. Most of the workers homes in Bulembu don’t have electricity but it’s good enough to the people who live there because their homesteads are in far worse condition; barely fit for farm animals.

All of these ugly things are just that: things. The beauty of Swaziland extends far beyond the lush greenery to the people themselves. I see adorable faces of young girls and boys who have found a safe place to live. Their eyes reflect a haunted past, but they are learning that the future doesn’t have to equal the past. There are handsome men and women working for the first time again in years; employment that gives them pride once more. No one turns up a nose to someone else based on status in society or race. They all walk the same dirty, bumpy road. And together they walk with not only hope but also pure, unrelenting joy.

You can’t come to Bulembu and not feel their aches and longings. You can’t come to Bulembu without sharing in their hope and yes, even their joy.

Bulembu Country Lodge

Bulembu or Bust!

My bags are packed, and I’m … Well, ok, my bags aren’t packed yet, but I am ready to go! And I’m excited to officially announce that I’m going to Bulembu! My dear friend, Monique (from Holland), and I are going to Bulembu, Swaziland with a group of people, who will be led by Scott Campbell, Director of Development for Bulembu International. I leave Indianapolis on March 13 and head to Amsterdam where I pick up Monique. Together we’ll fly (for 12 hours) to Johannesburg on the 14th. After arriving, we’ll take about 24 hours to recover (and we’ll need it) before we meet up with the rest of the team and make our way to Bulembu. Our trip will last for seven days and will include time spent in the orphanage, working in the community enterprise and community care systems and for me, doing lots and lots of writing. I will head back to Indianapolis on the 24th of March, stopping in Amsterdam to drop off Monique. (Don’t worry – we’ll land first. I won’t just push her out of the plane as we pass over Amsterdam!)

There are still many details I don’t know as of yet but I am beyond excited! And I am over-the-top humbled by this opportunity! No, I still don’t have the money I need to pay for the trip. I still need about $1800 but I have no doubt that God will provide a way. To start, I will make a presentation to the Mission Resource Team at my church this Sunday. It is possible I may receive some support funds from this group. (Your prayers going into this presentation are appreciated!) Even if the funds aren’t available, I know I’ll have their prayers, and that means more to me than anything else! I have had some wonderful surprises in the form of checks arriving here and there from dear friends who have offered to help. I am eternally thankful for their generosity! I continue to try to find other fundraising avenues (and am always open to suggestions!).

I have heard many times that people often go into mission trips thinking they will change the people they meet along the way when in fact, it is they who come home changed forever. I’m not sure why but I have never once considered that I will enter Bulembu thinking that I will change or “save” someone. I do hope to be salt and light for these people I have come to love (even though I don’t even know them yet). But I know even before I go that I am the one who will be forever changed. Whatever I am able to teach them, I pray that it is a glory to God. And whatever they are able to teach me, I pray I go with open eyes and ears, and that I am able to come back and tell the rest of the world through the written word. I know of no other reason for me to go.

Bulembu

Journey to Bulembu

Anytime our church had a guest who spoke on the topic of going into the world’s mission fields, I was always the one person who would slink down into the pew as far as I could (without actually hitting the floor) so that God couldn’t see me. I was always petrified that He would call me to become a missionary, and that was the last thing on my “things that sound like fun” list. While I admired missionaries, I always did so from a distance; to make sure whatever they had wouldn’t rub off on me.

As a writer, I felt just fine telling the stories of other people who were doing God’s work in the mission fields from the comfort of my own couch. I justified it as my own little mission field, doing God’s work from a laptop and in my pajamas. But then I was introduced to Bulembu.

Many of you have read my blogs about the tiny town in Swaziland. I’ve written about Bulembu’s plight on numerous occasions for nearly a year now, and telling their story has become a passion for me. Much of my work has consisted of spreading the word in order to generate support for various fundraising efforts such as Voices for Bulembu, the charity of the Canadian Tenors. And now I am blessed with an opportunity to go into the mission field that is Bulembu and serve the people of this town.

I will get to spend seven days working in the various communicate care and community enterprise systems, especially and including the orphanage and children’s intake and welcome center, where Bulembu’s most vulnerable and fragile orphans are cared for. I will also be writing various articles, continuing to tell the story of the work that is being done and the hope that is being restored.

The Bulembu Foundation is a not for-profit organization serving Jesus Christ by restoring hope to the people of Swaziland through community enterprise and community care. That is their mission. My mission is to go there to be among the people and learn as much as I can; minister to them while there and then return home to continue to tell their story through the written word to give hope to other people and nations.

I have been called, and I willingly accept the invitation. But, I am unable to go without financial assistance. I am now doing my own fundraising for this purpose and am praying for the resources to come through. If it is God’s desire for me to go – and I believe it is – I will have what I need.

I will be blogging about this Journey to Bulembu, no matter the outcome. I pray you’ll come along with me as I share my fears, frustrations, joys, triumphs and so much more from now until the trip, which will take place in March. And I will continue the blog while I’m in Bulembu. I’d love to hear your thoughts along the way. Ask questions, share comments. Let’s take this Journey to Bulembu together!

It isn’t what you think it means

What comes to your mind when you hear the word “adoption”? Like most of the rest of the planet, you probably think adoption means to permanently place a child within the home of another family. But, I’m here to tell you, it isn’t what you think it means. Biblically speaking, adoption means much more than child placement.

The Greek word from which “adoption” is derived is actually a compound of the words that mean “son” and “to place”. So, yes, adoption IS about child placement, but when we look at it from a Biblical perspective, it doesn’t end there. Adoption is also about renewal of creation. (See Romans 8:19-23) Where the Bible is concerned, when you have “adoption” you also have “renewal of creation”. You never have one without the other.

Dan Cruver, from Together for Adoption tells us, “God’s work of adoption will one day result in the comprehensive restoration of all creation so that it becomes the happy home of all of His children. One awe-inspiring day creation will be restored to a home of unceasing communion and fellowship with God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. In that day we will enter into the overflowing and never-ending peace and joy and gladness of our Father.”

It is important to remember that the Christian’s adoption is vertical before there can ever be a horizontal adoption. Once we are welcomed into the family of Christ through adoption, we must then, as a church family, “care for the orphans and widows”, according to Scripture. There are so many ways to do this; to place a child in a home and to create renewal.

One way to discover how to do both is to participate in the National Orphan Sunday, which will be held on November 7, 2010. Visit the link below to find a church in your area that is participating and learn how you can get involved. Check back here often this week as we will discuss more Biblical implications of adoption and how we can all care for orphans in preparation for Orphan Sunday.

 

www.orphansunday.org

 

 

Canadian Tenors Fan Day – The Summary

I have spent the last few days trying to figure out how to capture the Canadian Tenors Fan Day event into a blog post in such a way that would explain exactly what happened this weekend. But I’m not sure my words will do it justice because nothing I write seems to encapsulate the magnitude of caring hearts that gathered in one room for a few hours on this one Saturday in October in Holland.

The picture I keep coming back to is the story from the Bible where the poor woman gives her last remaining coins as an offering. She gave generously from her heart, while others gave from wealth. Neither is wrong, but as the parable goes on to say, the widow was commended not for the size of her gift, but for the sacrifice for giving all that she had.

That is what I witnessed on this Fan Day – people giving out of abundance and even sacrifice for a need greater than their own. Although those in attendance were all fans of the Canadian Tenors music, some were not aware of their involvement with Bulembu through Voices for Bulembu. A brief seminar was presented giving insight into the town’s history, its people and the crises they face, and the vision for building a self-sustaining community by the year 2020. With a deeper understanding and awareness, Canadian Tenors fans gave from their hearts.

Through a silent auction, Bingo, sales of specially designed Canadian Tenors Voices for Bulembu wristbands and even some corporate donations, the total amount raised came to $3,235 (Canadian Dollars). All of the proceeds from this event will go to the Bulembu Foundation.

There is no doubt that Canadian Tenors fans love their Tenors! The group that gathered was there to celebrate this common bond and even though they all live in the same country, most had formed a “friendship” only through Facebook. But any hint of unfamiliarity quickly evaporated while we played “Name the Tenor” and “Name the Tenor Tune” trivia games, shared stories from concerts and exchanged song ideas for upcoming CD’s. Before long, it felt like a family reunion!

Those in attendance were treated to a surprise “visit” from Victor, Remigio, Fraser and Clifton via videotaped message, which was, without a doubt, the highlight of the day!

As the first Canadian Tenors Fan Day came to an end, it also marked the end of the second fan fundraising event for the Bulembu Foundation. The combined fundraisers have raised nearly $10,000 (CAD) and will go to help ensure the good work that has begun in Bulembu will continue until it is completed.

My reflection remains woefully inadequate but I am grateful for the hearts that came together to honor the young men who have touched our hearts through their music and by their sacrificial giving to this community that deserves – and is now getting – a second chance.

When you feel like you have nothing left to give, give whatever is left, for it is in the sacrifice of the gift that is pleasing and acceptable in the sight of God. And for the one child in Bulembu who will benefit, it is the biggest gift ever.

Guests at the Canadian Tenors Fan Day in Holland learn about Bulembu and the Bulembu Foundation.

The Grace That is Sufficient

Today we’re switching gears. Today’s post won’t focus on the Canadian Tenors or Voices for Bulembu, although those things are still on my mind and there is still much work to be done. But this is the time of year where my thoughts typically turn to memories I would rather not have.

This is the time of year where images and sounds and unsavory odors return to haunt me and remind me of an incident that is seared into my brain. This is the time of year when I start to look skyward and watch airplanes as they make their landing approach like a mother watching from the front stoop of her home to make sure her children make it safely off the school bus at the end of the day. This is the time of year when I start to think of the men and women who wear blue to serve and protect or run toward a fire instead of away from it just to save one more life.

This is also the time of year when overwhelming grief and sadness envelop me like a giant wave crashing against the shore. I can see it coming every year but it still takes me by surprise. Every year it takes longer for the wave to reach the shoreline, and I’m thankful for that. There was a time when the darkness and depth of the waters that surrounded me lasted year-round. But with time, I found my way to the top, then to the shore, then to the beach.

Perhaps the grief is my homage to those who died on 9/11. Perhaps it is my penance for not having done enough to help. This year it feels like punishment because I have found new healing although not entirely complete. So many others wear permanent scars from what they experienced that day. I suppose I do too but they are buried deep within. No one sees them and for that reason, they assume things – incorrectly, I might add.

Despite the many blessings in my life, I will carry this great sadness with me until 9/12. That’s just the way it’s been for these last nine years. I wish it could be different but I don’t know how to change it. I still think of that day throughout the year but as the anniversary draws near, every year my grief becomes a casket of nearly 3,000 souls I wear around my neck. And the memories are as fresh as if I were living it all over again, every single day.

This morning, I read these words from 2 Corinthians 12:9: “My grace is sufficient for you.”

How often do we pray, “Lord, make your grace sufficient for me”? But He says, “How dare you ask me when I have already said it is so!” A quote from a devotional I read on this topic this morning: “The Lord says it in the simplest way: ‘My grace is [not will be or may be] sufficient for you.’”

Get up and believe it to be true in your life. I am doing the same even in these darkest hours. The grace that is sufficient is indeed sufficient.

Orphan Sunday: What will you do to change a life?

God’s heart for the fatherless (which includes not just orphans but at-risk children) is a consistent theme throughout the entire Bible. In the New Testament book of James, we are taught that serving the fatherless is “pure” and “undefiled” religion (or worship). It is not just a concern of God. It is a priority of God.

We are a people called to defend the fatherless… to care for the child that has no family… to visit orphans in their distress.

What will you do to answer the call and change a life? It’s overwhelming to consider the magnitude of the task of caring for millions of orphans. But we can each play a small part. And it can start on Orphan Sunday, November 7, 2010.

On that Sunday, hundreds of events across America and beyond will take place, all sharing one single goal: that God’s great love for the orphan will find echo in our lives as well. Orphan Sunday is your opportunity to rouse church, community and friends to God’s call to care for the orphan.

10 Ways We Can Support Orphans

1. Pray for them
2. Speak up for them
3. Provide for their needs
4. Support those who support them
5. Protect them from harm
6. Visit them where they are
7. Give sacrificially to them
8. Encourage them to press on
9. Adopt them into your family
10. Mobilize your church for them

If you want to do more, there is lots more to do. Check back here regularly for updates on ideas for your church or community to become involved, not just on Orphan Sunday (November 7) but every day of the year.

One way I am giving back is through the Bulembu Foundation and Voices for Bulembu. Check out these sites and, if you feel led, start by giving hope to this community in Swaziland.

What are other ways you can think of to help orphans across the globe?

Don’t Test Me, Bro

This is a test. Read this email and do what it says in the next five seconds and you’ll have something unbelievably spectacular happen at 11:11 pm tonight. If you don’t do it, your head will turn into the north end of a south-bound bull.

We’ve all gotten those emails. Perhaps, needing a little luck on our side, we’ve even managed to forward a few of them. Most of those emails come with a nice thought included telling us how much we are appreciated, loved, cherished, and an awesome friend to boot. Many of them offer a prayer and remind us Who died on the Cross for us. The emails require a test: If we forward the message to others, and back to the sender, of course, then we prove our love and undying friendship. Or, in the case of the God-themed messages, we prove our public devotion to Christ.

Oh, sure, the emails are cute enough with their blinking cartoons, eloquent poetry and cute animals, but I absolutely detest being the recipient of such messages. Why? Because I don’t need to be tested, and I don’t need to test anyone else either.

If we’re new in our friendship and you’re that insecure about our future as pals, then you’re just going to have to get over it. I will prove my loyalty to you in life, not in forwarding an email within a certain amount of time to a certain amount of people. Stick with me, kid, and I’ll show you my devotion.

If we’ve been friends (or family) for longer than a year and you’re still sending me these things, maybe we should talk about what I’m doing that makes you feel so insecure after all this time. In other words, don’t test me. The proof is in the puddin’, as we say in the south.

The Bible tells us that we are to carry each others burdens. Galatians 6:3-5 also says, “If anyone thinks he is something when he is nothing, he deceives himself. Each one should test his own actions. Then he can take pride in himself, without comparing himself to somebody else…”

It is in moments of pride that we deceive ourselves into thinking we are something to be fond of for our own sufficiency. In reality, we are nothing without one another. As your friend, I am committed to carrying your burdens and in doing so, I must test myself. My living testimony of faithfulness to friendship and God come through my every day actions, not in the number of emails I forward. Let me live it out because luck is on no one’s side.