The Process

This is going to get personal. 

I'll never forget the mixter of elation and horror as I read the email from Experience Mission, telling me I have been accepted onto the 3-Month South Africa team. Reading those words, I lept out of my chair and shouted "hallelujah!", but was soon greeted by an unwelcome feeling of terror. Africa? Isn't that on the other side of the world? You'll never make it, it takes certain people to be a missionary. You aren't one of those people. Look at what you've done, Gwen, you aren't worthy of this. And I sat back down as quickly as I got up and stared at the too-bright screen of my laptop. It took me a few days to reply and accept my position in the team, despite every thought telling me I wasn't good enough...


I grew up loving solitude. When I was two, my world was ripped apart by the death of my father. I decided at a very young age after a lot of horrible things happened that I did not need people, or trust. I lived that life until this last September (2013). I had no room for trust in my life, not for people, especially not for God. I spent my life running. I don't like depending on people, because people always leave. Because at the end of the day all you have is yourself and that has to be enough. I was trapped. Trapped inside my head, terrified of everybody, and my head was a very dark place to be. I knew something was wrong with me, but I couldn't pin point it. "Who I am is not who I should be. The devil took my hand and said child come with me." I reached out a couple times, but I learned quickly that no one cares that you are broken. Nobody really wants to hear about the grief inside your bones. You may be acquainted with the night, but I have seen the darkness in the day. My entire life, I looked in the mirror and saw a monster. A monster my childhood spit out into the real world.

As soon as I was able, I began to release my lifetime of suffering through drugs and alcohol. It didn't work. If anything, I drug me further and further away from where I needed to go. I was running a thousand miles an hour in the wrong direction. I got to a point of drinking before I even got up, to simply give me the courage to face the day. I'll never forget the morning I woke up and looked in the mirror. "They say your eyes are the mirror to your soul. That morning, when I looked in the mirror, I saw nothing. And that night, I began to self harm to prove to myself that I was still alive." Before long, I was also consumed by an eating disorder, and not long after that, I decided my life was no longer worth living. I couldn't handle the pain alone anymore. The hopelessness that comes with that decision is not something I would ever wish on any human being.

God had other plans. My plan failed, when it shouldn't have. My father God never, ever left my side.

I have known about God since I was two. When my mother took us to church when she had no where else to turn with the loss of my father. But I never believed it was for me. I always believed that freedom is a length of rope, and God wants us to hang ourselves with it. But in all reality, God was with me every dark second of my deep, dark struggle with worthlessness and hatred. Every time I looked in the mirror and spat at myself, I was hurting him. Every second I put a blade to my skin, He screamed for me to stop because He loves me. Every dark night I spent stumbling around drunk, He cried for His lost child, trying to call me home... It makes me want to cry to consider the pain I put Him through, forcing Him to watch me slowly destroy myself. But I saw no way out.

So the day I was sitting in my dorm room, and an ad for Experience Mission popped up on my facebook, I scrolled past it. Missions work? Pfft. Honorable people do that. People who havent disappointed God. The second day it appeared, I scrolled past, and then scrolled back up and clicked. Within a few weeks, I received that letter of acceptance. It took all I had to accept it, knowing I was not worthy of such a job.

My journey began in June 2013 at a Christian summer camp. I don't think they realized who they hired. They hired an angry, hostile, cruel person who basically hated everyone and everything. By the end of the summer I was completely different, I liked people, but I still couldn't depend on them or trust them. I learned 3 major lessons that summer. 1: God does not regret saving you. 2: You do not disgust him. 3: You do no disappoint him. Christ entered my life at that camp, preparing be for the journey I would partake in to Africa.

If God taught me anything over the past 3 months of my life, it is that I can depend on Him. That I can depend on people. I was stuck into the wild bush of the Kalahari desert with 11 strangers, and forced to work and praise with them on a daily basis. I was forced to brush me teeth with them, talk about private matters due to the fact that we had one bathroom, and much more. I'll admit I probably wasn't the friendliest, or the most fun to be around in the beginning. I don't do well in big groups for extended periods of time with my distrust in every living being. But as things got harder and I began to fight some serious internal battles, I was forced to lean on the group of misfits that I was living with. Little by little, I began to lean on them, tiny bit by tiny bit. Half way though the trip I began to feel myself changing, my entire life began to shift as my morals changed. Which I can tell you right now, is one of the most difficult and painful experiences of my life. I had no idea what to feel or think, I struggled with every emotion, which only forced me to lean on God and my team more. And before we left Africa, I depended and trusted every person on that team with my life. I opened up my heart to every single one of them and loved them with my entire heart. I prayed more than I had ever prayed in my life, I read my bible, I immersed myself in God's love and in turn was able to fully love the people I was working with.

People always ask me "how was Africa?" Well. It's hard to say that I had any impact on Africa compared to the impact Africa had on me. When I say "it changed my life", I dont think people understand that I honestly mean that. Everything I grew up believing was shattered, everything I went through was brought forward, everything I have done was laid at the feet of Christ. My morals shifted, which is more painful than I ever imagined. Jesus wrecked my life. Africa wrecked my life. The faith and trust I saw in people who didn't have half of what I have, made me realize how amazing our God is. I cry when I think about the children chasing our bucky, screaming "If you love Jesus!", the song we taught them. I cry to think about the women at the chirstmas party, who got mere umbrellas, lifting those umbrellas in to the sky and praising Jesus. I cry when I think about the life of the prostitute Jesus rescued from a brothel, using us. So I have lots of memories from Africa, yes, and how the people there will forever be engraved in my heart. But what mostly changed, was me. Funny how the very people I went to "bless", blessed me so much, it changed my very life. Recovery is not a moment, it is a process. And that is a process I will be living the rest of my life, in the hands of Jesus.

Funny how God works. <3

Lost and Alone

"Times get tough and life gets hard. And its hard to find the truth in all the lies. If you're tired of wondering why your heart isn't healing, and nothing feels like home cause your lost and alone just screaming at the sky. When you don't know what to say, just say Jesus. There's power in the name, the name of Jesus. If the words wont come cause you are too afraid to pray, just say Jesus."

The first time we drove into Olievenhoutbosch, South Africa, my heart was shattered by the sheer poverty and filth of the "squatter camp" township. I remember sitting in the minibus, so aptly named Balaam, as we drove through the littered streets, feeling my heart sink lower and lower with every passing tin shack or tiny shop.We stopped at a few places and looked around, at a school, disability center, community center and old age home. With every stop, I felt a deep brokenness and hurt begin to churn in the depths of my soul.

For the first two weeks, I worked at the disability center, with small children who were, obviously, disabled. Some of them had a manageable disability, such as down syndrome. But some were confined to laying on a mat because they couldn't move. I remember walking in and taking in the scene. A few children playing on the half carpeted floor, and the children laying on the mats in the corner. I was taken aback that these children were so far from the door, window and any worker. As I stood, tears crawled into my eyes and a coldness covered me. I moved across the floor, slowly but surely, towards the children laying on the mats. There were two, one who's head was twice the size of her tiny body and one who obviously was paralyzed by a disease of sorts. Sitting, I reached out and touched the little girl with the large head, she had no response to my touch and refused to look at me.

That night I cried and cursed God for allowing such suffering. Every morning as we drove in, and every afternoon as we drove out, I cursed him. I didn't pray anymore, I yelled at him. I remember one night distinctly when I was home alone at my host home and I was overcome by this hurt and rage that I just threw this thing across the room (I don't remember what it was), fell to my knees and screamed "What am I supposed to do?!" And cried.

Then one day, in my second week at the disability center, I returned to my spot beside the small girl with the large head. Swishing the ever-present flies away, I began my daily routine of rubbing her arms and legs and talking to her. I played with her hand and examined her tiny fingers and was overcome by this need to sing to her. With no idea what to sing, I began singing Amazing Grace. As I sang, her ever-moving eyes locked onto my face for a moment, her grip tightened around my finger and she smiled. Right there, I began to cry. I had been living my past two weeks hating God for allowing so much suffering and pain in these people. But right in front of me, I saw a little girl who hadn't responded to me since I had been there, smile at the name of our God. If that isn't a slap to the face, I don't know what is. I went home crying that night, asking for forgiveness. That next morning, as we drove into Olieven, I began to notice something. Joy. I watched children run screaming, playing a rendition of tag. I saw laughter and fellowship between two men as they braaied up some fresh chicken, I saw the happiness that was below the poverty.

As I continued my work at the school, I fell in love with the children and the people in this township. I realized that God is working here, changing the people, the children, into what he wants them to be. I stood in awe of his work.

Now, as we say our last goodbyes to our much loved community partners, and leave Olievenhoutbosch for the last time on this particular journey, my heart is shattered. But this time, for leaving such a beautiful community and its beautiful people.

You can safely say that Jesus wrecked my life. But in the rubble, grew a small flower. Hope.

Pomfret, South Africa

There is so much I could say about Pomfret, I have no idea where to start.

Yesterday we arrived back in Centurion, after having been crammed into a too-small minibus like a clown car for 10 hours with 15 tired, broken-hearted family members.

When we left Centurion for Pomfret a month ago, we knew each other well enough but it wasn't a family. We drove 11 hours and arrived in Pomfret having no clue what to expect. When you first arrive, it breaks your heart. The community is in rags and the people are obviously in rags as well. Houses are falling apart, starving children roam the street and there are loose goats, donkeys, chickens and dogs everywhere. Sometimes the dogs are more well taken care of then the children. People have no hope for change, they have no motivation, no jobs and certainly no money. They live off of pension, they drink way to much most of the time and live in the shattered shell of what this town used to be. You see pain, and suffering at your first glance..

But look again. Always look again.

The beauty is deeply ingrained in the people and the places. If you look in a dark, broken building, you hardly notice, but there is a small flower tree growing in the corner or through the window. If you look at a broken down home, sometimes that broken building is used for a church building on Sundays. And if you sit down and talk to the people, you see just how amazing they truly are. They laugh and smile more genuinely than a lot of people I know. They tell stories, laugh, teach you their language and share what little they have.

I can't count the amount of times I walked hand in hand with filthy, smelly, snotty children but didn't see the filth. All I saw was how much I loved them. Their smiles shine like the stars in a dark sky. They come running, "Auntie Gwen! Auntie Gwen!" And I am so overwhelmed with my love for them that I don't even see how filthy they are, I swoop them into my arms and kiss them and tell them I love them over and over again. Because I don't know when or if they ever hear those words. Because I love them, and God said to love the least of these. Boy do I.

The children do not say "I love you", they say "I love you too much" and it took me a week or two to really understand what it means. When little 3 year old Lesego looks at me with her too-big chocolate eyes and grins her toothy grin and says "I wuve you too mush", my heart bursts. This little girl is the size of a 1-year old, and she is 3. Her family were alcoholics and she and her older sister (also in the home) were starving. Zelda, the leader of ECO in Pomfret, took them in and showered them with love and food. They are blossoming under the wing of Christ.

(Lesego)

When a child looks at you and says "I love you too much" and when I say it back, I mean it. I love them too much. My love for them is overwhelming, over the top, and out of control. I love them as Christ does. I can't describe to you in words my love for these children. 

Do not get me wrong, life in Pomfret was full of love and God but it most certainly was extremely challenging. The sun was crippling, the heat was out of this world most of the time, there is no trash removal or sewage drainage. The smell was overwhelming at times. Our diet consisted of bread, pup, meat, rice and more bread. We had no electricity and small amounts of running water for most of our stay. We were forced to adapt to a way of life that we had never experienced. We lugged water, chased stray donkeys out of our trash pile with brooms, took bucket showers, had reoccurring stomach problems, did devos with the children by head lamp, ran from giant ant/spider mutants called Red Romans, found deadly scorpions in our showers, had to pull countless thorns out of our feet and hands, and some days just simply struggled to see God in the brokenness and pain we saw in people. 

But it was worth it. 

Some days I would drag myself out of bed, filthy, exhausted, homesick and just simply sick. I would slowly pull my shoes on, eat some funky tasting porridge-like substance for breakfast and stumble down the road to begin my daily work. When I got to my destination, I was greeted by big grins, brown faces and joyful voices thanking Jesus that the water came, or that the food came. And it really breaks you. In America I have everything. I never have to sacrifice anything, I never miss a meal because I can't afford it, I never struggle just to get water to drink, I never fall to my knees and beg Christ for money to feed my children. I just get in my car and drive to the store. These people rely on God with the fullness of their hearts. God is so present in Pomfret, you feel him everywhere you go. You feel his love reign on these people as they pray. Our team went and prayed for a woman who wasn't lactating and her newborn was starving to death and there was nothing she could do. Some of our team went and prayed for her for a solid 15 minutes, and right before their eyes, she began to lactate. 

Christ is sovereign. 

In seeing their brokenness, I learned of my own. I learned how spiritually broken I am. I may have everything I need, I may have much more than I need, but I certainly don't have as much God as I need. Watching their faith proved to me that there is so much more to life than growing up, getting a job, getting married and having children. That's not what it's about. It's about love, and friendship, and happiness and Christ. 

I left America not knowing what I want to do with my life. I left Pomfret knowing that I can't just simply go back to how I was living. I can't just simply go back and go to school and pretend I didn't learn anything. I need Christ, I need the gospel and I need to share it with people who need it.

My heart remains behind with those little hands that I held, and the hearts I prayed for and the skun knees and the hurting toes. My heart remains with the tailgate I almost fell off, with the small half naked child I loved on, with the little girl that held my hand as I walked her home from getting what was most likely the last meal she would have for days. My heart remains in that small, desert town in Africa. 

So, how was my experience in Pomfret? 

You tell me.

Christmas Music

"All this time I've been finding myself and I didn't know I was lost." 

^^ that's a lie. I've been lost my whole life.

But I think I'm on my way to finding myself.

Tomorrow we leave for Pomfret at 6am, it's about a 600 km drive and we will be going about 90kph, so we estimate about 8-9 hours including stops and lunch? 

Pomfret is a small desert town immediaty outside the calahary desert and has little to no income. About two years ago, the government wanted to close the town down but about 1000 people live there, so try couldn't. So they sent in soldiers and just destroyed it and massacred the masses. But the people that survived didn't leave. They are hopeless, but trying. We will be working in an orphanage, rebuilding homes, working in the gardens and evangelizing. These people need Jesus and they need his love an hope. I could not be more excited to work with them. 

I love my team. We are all so excited and nervous and challenged by this amazing oppertunity in front of us. Tonight we had a traditional African BBQ. It was AMAZING.

Then we all jumped in the pool. Even though it's chilly tonight, about 65. But the sky is clear an we realized that down here the moon is upside down.

Mind blown.

But we all sat around outside. Played with the dogs, had a BBQ, jumped in the pool and got pumped for pomfret! Then we all went inside, packed, cleaned and then played games and listened to Christmas music! What a perfect evening. 

Prayers as we enter our new step in this God given journey.

Hadidas and Potato Chips

Africa is amazing.

First of all there are these cuss UGLY birds called Hadidas (ha-dee-duhs). They look like a mangy pelican had a bad date with a seagull and a Hadida was the outcome. And the sound they make is no better. It sounds like a 50lb angry/sick crow. Ugh. They never shut up.

Everything is so different, even the little things like the names on the cereal. There's Otees and Milo and this funky hazelnut type called Squillios. The potato chips make me laugh. They have normal brands like we do but the Lay's "sour cream and onion" flavor is called "Sweet Onion and Cheese Flavor". Hhahahaaha and the nacho cheese Doritos are called.. "Cheese supreme flavoured tortilla style corn chips." What a mouth full. Imagine you friend is going to the store and they ask what you want as you leave and are like:

"Hey man you want anything at the store?" *door closing*

"YEAH GET ME SOME CHEESE SUPREME FLAVOURED TORTILLA STYLE CORN CHIPS."

haha the first guy would have already closed the door.

But everything is so fresh and natural, you don't have to wonder what you are eating. This morning they went to the bakery and bought bagels for us for breakfast, the bagels were still warm from the oven <3 The meat is not genetically altered the rolls are to die for. You get all bread at a bakery around here, store bought is not really heard of. I mean, you can buy store bought bagels but no one really does.

The scenery is incredible. I can't describe to you what it looks like. We are in a town called Centurion, which is a rather nice town but the area we are living in right now (at our Leader, Hein's, house) is completely caged off. The entire area is surrounded by fencing that you need a specific sticker on your car to get into, the house is completely surrounded by a fence that is armed with a rather loud (annoying) alarm, the house is alarmed and every window and door is bared. He said when we got here, "we don't know who is more trapt. The people on the outside or the people on the inside." And practically everyone leaves their dog outside all day and night. Hein has a spaniel (Max) and a Great Dane (Tigger) cross. The neighbors have a full sized Great Dane (he is HUGE) and a couple small dogs. They bark a lot but it's sort of a sense of comfort. They tell us it's because of the dog hair but we all sort of known it's for extra protection. We aren't really allowed outside at night, except in the back yard (surrounded by brick walls) for a little while. But, he doesn't suggest it. It makes me laugh every time when we leave because he hits this thing on his key chain that basically locks his house and arms the alarm and I always giggle.

We had pizza last night, and it was fantastic! American pizza will forever be gross to me.

Thank you all for your prayers! I'm so excited to go to Pomfret on Wednesday morning!

And Were Off

Just landed in Washington, D.C.. Our first flight went well, slightly turbulent but nothin to fret about. It's crazy to think that when we take off in our next plane, it'll be 24 hours before we touch ground again. With the flight being almost 18 hours and than jumping 6 hours ahead. The plane offers us 3 full meals and we will be able to see the sunset and sunrise from the air. Kinda excited, not gonna lie.

One cool thing is a flight attendant on our Indianapolis - Washington, D.C. Flight announced that we were on board and what an honor it was to serve missionaries. That was cool!

We have a book that EM gave us to read during our mission called "When Helping Hurts" and we will be able to get a good amount of reading done on the flight. And then maybe I'll get to read my Nicholas Sparks book too!

Last night was hard on all of us. There was a lot of tears and a lot of hard praying amongst the team during our meeting. The training this week completely rocked our faith to the core. It made me question everything I've grown up believing. I obviously still believe in the gospel but just the way I believe it.

Everything I believe in was ripped out from under me in a matter of 4 days. We were asked numerous questions we couldn't answer and asked to discuss things we had never thought about. We ate dinner every night very discouraged, and very kept to ourselves. 

We are nervous, scared and in need of a lot prayer.

Overflow

I
am
exhausted.

My brain shut down at about 2 o'clock today, after a long discussion on how overwhelmed we all were and how none of us had ever had a faith challenged like this before. And then for another 3 hours, we talked in depth about what poverty meant and all the separate forms of it. I'm pretty sure I could not take in any more information today.

So I'm going to tell you guys about the silly things we did today!!

• We got marbles thrown at us.
• Played with playdough
• Played a game outside
• Colored
• Built puzzles to try and work together quickly
• Took group jumping pictures (attempted)
• Picked out names for secret santa when we get home!! :)
• Discussed the fact that we are going to all be living in the same house come thanksgiving so we are going to go to the market and make ourselves a thanksgiving dinner!

We have finished most of our training and tomorrow consists of mostly formal stuff and paper work!
We fly out friday! So excited!