Food

I, Christy, complained a bit about the food when I first came to Nigeria from Cameroon.  It all seemed to have a similar flavor. Honestly, I never thought I'd get so excited about sakwara (pounded yam) and "soup" (sauce that you scoop or dip your yam into).  Surprises of surprises, I about wanted to hug the cook upon my first yummy bite. (No, it's not because of baby Yoder.)  I actually missed Nigerian cuisine.  My husband never agreed with my evaluation of the food, so he always looks like this when he eats sakwara...it's his favorite.

Inspired

Releasing ourselves to inspiration and it's impact on us is sometimes challenging, not so?

Needless to say, I was inspired.  My husband told me about this place years ago, before we were married.  He painfully reminded me of my words then, a flippant disinterest at seeing what, upon returning to Nigeria a year later, inspired me.  The German woman and her Nigerian husband who started this school 7 years ago have a vision that finds children walking down this beautiful hall with wood fired brick and cheerful curtains every day.

 It has children playing on this carefully, thoughtfully, and ingeniously built playground.

It had me longing to hit the ground running because only God knows what we can "build" as we walk with him, and are part of meeting the needs around us.  I pray I am becoming someone who allows myself to be inspired by the lives and faith of others.   

The "scape"

 If you've ever been to West Africa, there's no way to describe or picture the striking and contrasting beauty that captures you.  Maybe it's just because I'm pregnant, but I tear up just looking at the above picture...I was crying IN the picture.  These women keep our office clean, the tea out at tea break, and the sheets in the guest house sparkling clean.  Victoria, on the right, was also my house help and close friend as I walked into marriage and through the first year and a half.  Seeing these humble, joyful women reminded me of so many things I LOVE about Africa.  The warm embrace, the charisma that marks each happy moment, the remembering that colors each reunion, and the unfettered love.  These women love me, and I love them.  Shi ke nan! (That's it!) 

Dust is everywhere in Jos now.  Harmattan (sand off the Sahara) leaves a thin layer everywhere, not to mention we're in the middle of 7-8 months of dry season.  Yet these flowers bloom, the trees behind are still green, and under the mountain in the distance flows fresh water that is bottled for human consumption. 

The "scape" of Nigeria, from the people to the land, is resilient and truly beautiful.  

Cactus Wall

Coming back to Nigeria, I find the old habits or friendships that made me tired, I want cut out or discontinue.  Sometimes this includes not answering phone message from people who used to tire me as they asked for things or "encouragement" in the form of money because I didn't want them to like me for the wrong reason.  Boundaries are good, but when I saw these cactus walls that are distinct to our area of the country, I thought, "I don't want to build cactus walls in my life that scratch people when they get close, and keep me "protected" behind them." 

Today I almost made the mistake of not showing hospitality because I had built a wall against someone.  I had someone who, in the past, only came when she wanted money, sent away. I couldn't bear it, so I chased my friend down as she went toward the gate of the compound.  Since she is deaf I had to run right up to her, and when I touched her shoulder, she turned and started jumping up and down.  She embraced me, and in sign told me she was so happy to see me, that she had missed me, and worried I wouldn't come back.  Her joy at seeing me tore down the wall I had built to keep myself "safe."  We drank tea together, and she shared some photos with me.  She told me I was beautiful now, but before I wasn't. "Thank you," I signed back.  Did she ask me for anything?  Yes, twice, but I was able to keep my boundary without my cactus wall. 
Is this the only time I've had to learn this in the last two days?  Nope...
A mother and dear friend fell on her knees before me when I gave her school fees for this semester for her daughter ($40).  I met today with a grandmother who's grandchild has a growth that isn't being taken care of (though she refused my help 2 years ago) she said she has no reason to not let me help this time.  The shoes I brought for the children of my neighborhood did not all fit, but I gave them the one's that did, and did not allow myself to ache over what I couldn't do.  15 children gathered around me when I visited a home today, and I was sure they had seen the gifts I had given to the other little ones.  Without wondering what they wanted from me, I hugged each of them. I walked into a shelter for a maternity clinic where women who did not share my language smiled broadly at me.  I blessed their children and asked God to bless them.  It was awkward.
My life may not be as "safe" without a spiny barrier, but I believe it will be more full.  Not to mention that God rejoices when his children are obedient, and he said, "Don't forget to show hospitality to strangers, for some have entertained angels unaware." (Hebrews 13:2) and "When you did it (gave a glass of water, etc) to the least of these my brothers, you did it to me." (Matthew 25:40) I don't have to be afraid of being taken advantage of, God can handle my heart, I just have to extend the love he's given me to share, and not hide.

Paris On the Way!

As I walk with my arm looped around Zach's through small shops, cafe's, and flower markets in Paris, I am overwhelmed with thankfulness that this is where God has brought us.  Not just to Paris for a few days, but to this marriage, where we find a true partner and friend in each other, and where we can serve together with a people we love.  We are so thankful.  We chose two sites to see and spent the rest of our time resting, praying, preparing our hearts for continuing on.

 

My very own flute playing statue at the Louvre!

The Seine River ...this may be Notre Dame on the other side, but we aren't sure.  It looked more like a lovely castle to us.

French Bakery!  We had dinner in this little cafe.  Quiche, salad, fresh baked bread.  Yum!  All things we don't eat much in Nigeria (well, the bread we can get, but now French bread). We also bought Kiwi and grapes!  Fun to eat them now, but know we won't probably miss these things too much once we're in Nigeria since they have good food too!

Some beautiful tower near the Seine River.  We got there right when they turned on the lights and felt the show was for us.

It has been so fun to get to know the city a bit as we walked the streets, took the metro, and joked with good-humoured Frenchmen.  Maybe someday we'll stop in again, but tomorrow we're on our way to Nigeria!  Goodbye Europe! 

Refreshing

It has been a while since I read Peter's first letter to the churches (aka 1 Peter).  I had forgotten how refreshing I find this letter.  Somehow, after reading it so many times I could almost recite it, I began to think I didn't need to read (or say) it anymore.  Check. Done.  Move on.  Yet, coming back to this letter I find that again it fills me with hope, and sets my heart and my eyes on eternal treasures.

Thank you, God, for our brother, Peter, and how you changed his life, and how now through his letter, you change ours.

  

This is just what I was hoping for in Paris.  A day to sit and just be to thank God for so many good things he has done in this past year (see previous posts) and to look forward to what he will be doing as we return to Nigeria.  Thank you God!

Tourists

We don't recommend carrying 300 lbs of luggage through Paris.  However, if you're moving to another country, and have to bring gifts along, it makes for good (or funny later) memories! The little machine I am happy standing in front here was just the beginning.  First, I stood there, ready to walk into the little doors, when two young African guys walk up to the other side talking on their phones.  They take a look at me, loaded down with baggage, and walk right in to go through before me.  Nice. When I finally pulled my 150 lbs in, doors shut behind me, there was a voice that repeatedly said the same thing that I couldn't understand while people looked at me.  It was so funny I almost started to cry (it's the baby) and finally understood the word "Sortez" which means "get out." So, I pulled my luggage back out, my red bag fell on the ground as the doors opened to welcome me in for round two.  I ignored the bag, put in my ticket, which this time the machine accepted, and then forged my way out of the other side.  Zach handed me my bag over the glass wall, and it was his turn. Every gate is meant to shut behind you, but most people aren't 5 feet long, so our bags got caught every time.  Thankfully, 2 other very kind older African men helped us get our bag off the train.

 

Zach said later he was trying to pull a "Christy" (feeling relaxed in a rather stressful situation).  It worked.  We got our bags off the train with the help of our African friends (I told them I was pregnant so I couldn't lift the heavy bags-- A line someone told me to use often and without restraint, and that made them happy to help.)

After one last stressful struggle with a glass door that included an older Frenchman who stood with our stuff on one side while Zach held open the door as it tried to squeeze shut, and my red bag kept falling off as I tried to shuffle it through, I left Zach with his load in a median and went to the guest house so I could help him better.  See, at one point Zach had been trying to get me through a door with MY luggage and as he pulled mine, he tumbled over his red bag which had sneakily fallen behind him. Landing on the floor, he quickly scurried up...I'm sure no one rushing by us to load the train noticed.  Not funny, but kind of funny.  Needless to say that red suitcase has not been the same since so the brilliant stack of suitcases just wasn't cooperating any more.  

On my way to the guest house, I met a woman who said she'd help me.  I started speaking French to her, assuming I wasn't saying things right, and she said in Spanish, "Are you here for the women pastors conference?" Honored, but "No" I said, confused because I thought I was in France and I was pretty sure they spoke French in France.  Turns out she was staying in the guest house, too, and was from Argentina.  After making a big fuss again about being pregnant and needing help getting up the stairs with my luggage, I returned and found Zach happily watching people pass by, and around, him. 

Well, needless to say, we made it to the guest house, together, with all our luggage, thanks to all our little helpers along the way!