Mali's done WAWA'd my heart away!

Believe it or not (I don't), I'm down to the home stretch here in Mali.  On Thursday morning we'll be driving from Koutiala to Bamako, then fly out of Bamako on Friday evening.  I'll be back in Ohio by Saturday evening - that would be this Saturday, in fact.

I definitely want to go home.  I want to see my family, to process all the things I've learned and seen and done here, to seek the Lord's plan for my next step.

But I am so not ready to leave.  I don't want to leave this land, this life, or these people behind.  I will never leave them totally behind, I suppose.  I will carry them around in my heart forever.  But that's nothing compared to being here - to seeing them, to walking here, to getting its dirt under my fingernails.

Lord willing, there's always next time.  One of the Malienne "Papa"s asked me today what my "last impression" of Mali was.  

To which I replied, "When can I come back?"

It's true.  I want like crazy to burn my passport and miss the van to Bamako.  This girl's been WAWA'd in the worst (best?) way, and I'll never be the same.  And I haven't even left yet!

For those who would like to know, WAWA stands for West Africa Wins Again.  It's a term the missionaries use to describe the way West African countries, with their [comparably] rough circumstances, tend to do their best to challenge the physical, mental, and moral  endurance of anyone not native to their arid lands.  At this stage, the WAWA factor is kind of endearing to me - sort of like a really adorable, soft little puppy.  

That would be the same cute creature that barks all night long and leaves you aromatic gifts on the carpet, right?

Yes - and this would be the same West Africa that blows out your tire and dumps your 5-gallon water cooler in your truck on your way to a village, where you find two demon-possessed people you're expected to treat as medical patients.

Nice doggy.....

For this and other true stories, I'm inviting you to join me at Lodi Community Church on Friday, March 14, at 6:30 pm.  My church is hosting a potluck, at which I'll share some of my experiences here.  We're opening the dinner up to anyone interested in hearing more about my time in Mali.  We do ask that everyone RSVP (to me - in the comments here or via email, Facebook, phone call, text, or whatever mode of communication works for you) and bring a main dish and a dessert to share.  We'd love to have you!

So long for now!  See y'all soon!!

On the unexpected

As of today, my stay in Mali is halfway over.  In just a little over three more weeks, we head back to Bamako to wing our way home to the frozen tundra of the United States. :) Honestly, I'm trying not to think about it.  It sometimes feels like I just got here - I can't wrap my head around leaving!  I can only focus on today, right here, this moment.

In other words, I'm getting pretty good at being an African. ;)

I really had no expectations for this trip.  I had no idea why God told me to come to Mali, so I've been surprised and excited by everything He's shown me here.  I don't have an agenda; I don't have a program; I don't have any (or at least not many) preconceived notions.  I'm just here to learn.  And God has taken me off-guard in so many wonderful, unexpected ways.

For instance, just last night I was able to pay my second visit to the village of Leleni.  It's 25 [very bumpy] kilometers out of town and is only accessible via roads mostly indistinguishable to the American eye.   Three thousand people live in this village; six of them are Christians.  The amazing part is that it seems so hidden.  You drive along these bumpy, dusty, twisty roads, not seeing any humans for kilometers on end and suddenly boom - 3,000 souls right smack-dab in the middle of the bush.  It makes me wonder how many more of these villages are hidden away on roads I can't see, and whether anyone is reaching them, teaching them, or even just praying for them.  That's not something we see in America, these places that have simply never heard the gospel.  We take it for granted that there is a church in every town and that most people have at least heard of the Christian God.  That's just not the case here.  And it's overwhelming to look out at the scrubland and realize that there are people hidden out there, dying every single day, never hearing that Jesus loves them and died for them.

Another unexpected lesson I've had is a little more, shall we say, controversial.  Yet I feel that this is one of my biggest takeaways from this trip so far and has to be said.  Many people, when they talk about having taken a trip like this one, tell of how their trip made them realize just how blessed we are to live in a place like America.  God has been so good to us, they say, to let us live in a place with so many conveniences and luxuries that we take for granted.

I beg to differ on that.

Are we really so blessed?  Have all our conveniences and commonplace luxuries made us blessed - or spoiled?  

Could we really learn to thrive - without complaining - with no running water in our homes and not even the option of electricity?  Could we be thankful for dirty vegetables, buggy grains, and dog meat?  When was the last time we greeted a complete stranger and asked after their health, their spouse, their children, their village, and their work?  When did we last make tea and carry it over to our neighbor's house, with no expectations and no desire for reciprocation?  Do we ever find joy in helping a total stranger learn our language?  And has it ever just made your day to wave at someone whose skin is a different color from yours?

I'm not saying we should all be Africans, and I'm not saying I've mastered all this perfectly.  All I am saying is that there is no need to insult people in "developing" countries by pitying them.  Instead, it might do us in the "developed" nations a whole world of good to humble ourselves and learn from these beautiful people instead of trying to be their saviors.