Lose yourself.

Delight yourself in the Lord,

and He will give you the desires of your heart.

Commit your way to the Lord;

trust in Him,

and He will act.

[...] The steps of a man are established by the Lord,

when he delights in his way [...]

The law of his God is in his heart;

his steps do not slip.

Psalm 37: 4-5; 23; 31

Lose yourself.

It's been a little quiet on this blog, because I was being rebellious. The Lord placed another topic on my heart, as He faithfully does every post, yet I was reluctant to share. It seemed too personal, too vulnerable, too transparent. Yet, if there is one thing that I have learned about the Lord, it is that when He places a call or a word on your life, you'd be stifling your spiritual growth and hoarding from the Body of Christ by keeping it for yourself. So, after much fear and reluctancy, I open up my heart in hopes that Jesus will use it to encourage you and as a testimony to the Grace of God in my life.

Almost a year ago my life was radically different. I was dating the love of my life. I was comfortable singing back-up vocals on the worship team at my church, preferring to hide behind an upright piano. I was fixated on physical therapy school, consumed with living in the coolest city with the most hipster church. I thought I would move to Portland, Oregon, after marrying previously mentioned boyfriend. We'd serve in our local church body, have three kids, love Jesus, and I'd support his dreams of being a pastor while he supported my dreams of physical therapy. I was consumed by this dream. I thought it was the best plan ever. I thought it would be where I would find joy, love, and laughter for the rest of my life.

Yet, God had another plan. See, a man's heart plans his way, but it is the Lord who establishes his steps (Proverbs 16:9). My heart was set on a plan that would keep me comfortable and safe. Yet, Jesus wanted to answer the secret prayers I whispered in the hidden parts of my heart. I asked him for adventure. I asked him for deeper intimacy with him. I asked to be overwhelmed by his presence, so much so that I would overflow. In February 2013 the Lord answered those prayers by giving me a glimpse at the life I could have with him, if I left everything and followed him. He told me He wanted to take me around the world and use my passport for His glory. He told me that He wanted to use my worship and my songs to break chains around the world by the Grace of God.

The crazy thing is that I would never have believed the prophesy I received that February if the Lord had not set the stage for me to receive it. Throughout my life He has spoken words into my life, yet I was reluctant to believe them. I chose to believe the lie from the enemy that I was too timid and ill equipped to be anything interesting. That morning before I was prophesied over I had the most beautiful time with the Lord, reading his word, singing praise to him, and dancing before the Lord. I was like a little girl dancing with her Father. So, when the man who prophesied over me began to describe my intimate moment with the Lord, I started sobbing. I knew it was Jesus speaking to me through this brother in Christ. And then as I listened with open ears, I heard and saw all the prophesies spoken over me align in a beautiful picture of God's Grace in my life. I felt unworthy. It was too beautiful, too great to be intended for me. Yet, that was God's design. He wanted to use me, the weak and timid, so that He could be glorified in all His courage and strength.

When Jesus asks us to come and follow Him, He typically cuts to the heart, revealing our strongholds. When I heard this word from the Lord, he cut straight to my stronghold of comfortability. I felt like the rich young man in Matthew 19, who was so passionate about the ministry of Christ, yet, when told to forsake everything for Jesus, he became sorrowful. For as much encouragement, direction, and excitement this word gave me, it also was counterbalanced with sorrow. I was being called to cut away everything comfortable. I was called to break down the wall of security around my heart. It was terrifying. Yet, almost a year later, I can say confidently that by the Grace and Love of God it was worth it.

I gave up everything that mattered to me at the time. I don't think I have ever sobbed and grieved so much in my short life. I hurt so much that it manifested in physical pain, especially when I would see reminders of my old life, the life I could have had. Yet, Jesus in His Mercy gave me the best encouragement during this time of pruning and preparing for the ministry He was calling me to. He gave me the privilege of going to Malawi, and He used that month in Africa to train me for the ministry he had anointed me for. He used this trip to show what people back home had doubted, calling me an irrational home-body. He used it to demonstrate how physical therapy, worship leading, and global ministry fit together. It was a design my heart would never have thought of, yet Jesus is brilliant and His ideas and His ways are far better than my own.

Since Malawi, Jesus has been using my last two months in Stockton, California, to train me in worship leading. I don't think I have ever had so many worship leading opportunities in my life. Yet, the Lord has told me during this time to accept every opportunity with a joyful heart, knowing that He can use my training time to minister to His body. He is so crazy good.

To top it off, a woman at my old church recommended me to read a book because it reminded her of me. The Lord has since used this book, Kisses from Katie, to minister to my heart and encourage me to expect big things from my Big God. The similarities between me and this woman freaked me out. In the biography Katie forsakes the expectations of her parents, her family, her boyfriend, and her friends for the sake of Christ. After spending 3 December weeks in Africa (about the same amount of time I spent in Africa this December), her heart is stirred to return to the mission field. Leaving everything behind, even the love of her life, she followed Jesus to Uganda. She found the true Love of her Life, Jesus Christ, by following him on the greatest adventure of all. Similar to her first experience of returning to the States from Uganda, I feel that "Though the red soil eventually wore off the soles of my feet, [Malawi] never left my heart and was never far from my mind." The Lord had similarly used my time in Malawi to draw me closer to His heart and to inspire dreams of a sold-out life for Him.

I am by no way perfect. I fail constantly. I definitely have failed in how I handled different experiences over the past year. Yet, I have also never felt closer to the Lord. I have never felt so on fire with Love for my Savior. I have never wanted to wake up at the crack of dawn to spend hours in the Word with Jesus. I have never been so content and satisfied with singleness - to the point that the idea of a life devoted to Jesus would satisfy and overwhelm my desire for marriage if He called me to singleness on earth. As I write this post, I have the song, Give Me by Kirk Franklin, on repeat. This song is the cry of my heart: that Jesus would give me that joy I can't explain [...] as much of Him that I can take...Give me that. My desire for Jesus far outweighs my desire for the calling that He has placed on my life. If he took the calling away, I know I wouldn't regret what happened this year because it led me deeper into the heart of Christ. I want to delight myself in the Lord - to find my fullness of Joy in Him. I want to delight in His ways. So, I commit my calling and my ways to him, trusting him and knowing that He will establish my next steps. So, whether or not I travel around the world for Jesus' glory, I know that I will travel further up and further in into the Heart of God. No thing or man can compare to that.

Check out the song mentioned in the post by clicking the link below (it's off the hook):

Kirk Franklin || Give Me

Every day, we have a choice.

We can stay nestled in our safe comfortable places [...]

We can let fear of something that really is small compared to the greatness of God cripple us.

Or we can take a risk,

do something to help someone else,

make a person smile,

change someone's world.

Life to the fullest exists.

It's available.

All we have to do is decided to get up and embrace it.

Katie Davis, Kisses from Katie

Love in poetry.

And did you get what

you wanted from this life, even so?

I did.

And what did you want?

To call myself beloved, to feel myself

beloved on the earth.

Raymond Carver, Late Fragment

Love in poetry.

My favorite Jesus moments are the times when he speaks to me through the unexpected. I watched a movie, Stuck in Love, on Netflix the other day. Though the content of the movie was dark and depressing, I was moved by a speech the protagonist delivered in the film. He quoted a poet, Raymond Carver:

I could hear my heart beating.

 I could hear everyone's heart. 

I could hear the human noise we sat there making,

 not one of us moving,

 not even when the room went dark.

This prose inspired me to uncover more poetry by Raymond Carver. His language sparked an eagerness to keep reading. Each piece I read encouraged me to read more. I feverishly hunted and happily devoured his poetry. He wrote of love and loss - subjects I greet with familiarity as a hopeless romantic.

In those moments of complete abandon in Carver's poetry, Jesus met me. I read Carver's Last Fragment and was reminded of my beloved, my Jesus. When I read this short poem (excerpt above), I was reminded of two distinct moments in the Bible. The first was Song of Solomon 6:3: I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine [...]. The second was Matthew 25, where Jesus depicts the final judgment through parables.

I could picture my Beloved, my Jesus, asking me, "And did you get what you wanted from this life, even so?" I could picture myself replying, "Yes. I did, because I was my Beloved's and my Beloved was mine." It's crazy to me how Jesus transported me into Carver's poem to speak his love and purpose into my life.

I mean...that's all that life is about. It's about Jesus being your Beloved and you being his beloved. It's about being caught up in love with him - the kind of love that inspires poetry. Jesus said that the first and greatest commandment is to love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind (Matthew 22:37). And since that is the greatest commandment, it describes the substance of life - to love God wholeheartedly.

Though the essence of this blog post is nothing new under the sun, I pray that it reminds you of your first love. I pray that it spurs you to fall head over heels in love with Jesus. To expect him in the unexpected. To know him as your Beloved and to be called Beloved by him. I can't wait to hear his voice as he calls me Beloved in Heaven. I know I will just melt in his arms and be swept away by his poetry.

His master said to him,

‘Well done, good and faithful servant.

 You have been faithful over a little;

 I will set you over much.

 Enter into the joy of your master.’

Matthew 25:21

Christmas and donuts.

Children in the village excited to take a picture

Children gathering as we walk through a village

We want you to know, brothers, about the grace of God

 that has been given among the churches of Macedonia,

 for in a severe test of affliction,

their abundance of joy and their extreme poverty have overflowed in a wealth of generosity on their part.

 For they gave according to their means, as I can testify,

 and beyond their means, of their own accord,

 begging us earnestly for the favor of taking part in the relief of the saints— and this, not as we expected,

 but they gave themselves first to the Lord

and then by the will of God to us.

 Accordingly, we urged Titus that as he had started,

 so he should complete among you this act of grace.

 But as you excel in everything—in faith, in speech, in knowledge, in all earnestness, and in our love for you

—see that you excel in this act of grace also.

I say this not as a command,

but to prove by the earnestness of others that

your love also is genuine.

  For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ,

 that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor,

 so that you by his poverty might become rich.

 And in this matter I give my judgment: 

this benefits you, who a year ago started not only to do this 

work but also to desire to do it.

 So now finish doing it as well,

 so that your readiness in desiring it

 may be matched by your completing it out of what you have.

 For if the readiness is there, it is acceptable according to what a person has,

 not according to what he does not have.

 For I do not mean that others should be eased and you burdened,

 but that as a matter of fairness

 your abundance at the present time should supply their need,

 so that their abundance may supply your need,

 that there may be fairness.

 As it is written, “Whoever gathered much had nothing left over,

 and whoever gathered little had no lack.”

2 Corinthians 8: 1-15

Christmas and donuts.

Many people have asked me about Christmas in Africa. When posed with these questions, it sparks memories of joys and troubles, celebrations and hardships. Yet, one consistent thing about Christmas in Malawi is amanda(donuts, pronounced ah-mahn-dah).

Donuts are a special treat in Malawi. The typical donut sold in the village is a solid mound of dough, fried in palm oil to add a crispy exterior. It's heavy, dense, and full of grease, leaving your hands glistening with oil. We had these holiday treats a few times during our stay in Malawi.

On Christmas Eve we went to the Malawian nuns' house to deliver wool yarn to an 89-year-old nun in the convent. This nun happened to ask my professor if she had some yarn, because she wanted to knit during the holidays. It also happened that my classmate brought yarn so that I could teach her how to crochet. Coincidence? I think not. Though we didn't get to crochet in Malawi as planned, it was providential to give the yarn to the nun. This was the Lord's way of allowing us to bless the believers in Malawi during the holidays.

Yet, what I loved most about this experience is that we were equally (more like exponentially) blessed by the Malawian nuns. The 89-year-old nun invited us to fellowship with them in the convent. We gathered in a beautiful living room and were blessed as this woman told stories of life in the ministry. She shared decades of experiences in Malawi and other parts of Africa, tales of surviving cholera outbreaks and famine. As the elderly nun told stories, the other nuns in the convent prepared a Christmas treat of donuts and glass bottle sodas.

These donuts were amazing! They were freshly baked for the Christmas celebration. Compared to the donuts in the village, these donuts were light and fluffy. The outside was tossed in sugar and the inside was filled with homemade jelly. As I ate the donut, I knew I was eating a rare treat. These donuts were a sign of their generosity, and they tasted as special as the occasion they had been made for. I felt honored that the nuns would share their Christmas dessert with a few strangers from the United States. I was overwhelmed by their hospitality.

On Christmas Day we had the privilege of breaking bread with the Luxembourg nuns (who lived in a separate convent from the Malawian nuns). After weeks of PB&J and pasta or rice with vegetables, the Christmas feast tasted like a five star restaurant experience. We stuffed ourselves with double portions of green beans, meat, potatoes, chocolate pudding and Dutch cookies (only to name a few of the delicacies). When we had eaten our fill, we decided to go on a walk around the village to help digest the feast.

As we walked along the road running through Namitondo, we met many children along the way. Through each village we passed on our digestion journey, we would gather 30-40 children from the village. Each child would yell "AZUNGU!" or "BO!" to get our attention. Some would say "Give-a-me-money" or "Give-a-me-sweet" as we passed. It was strange to not hear Christmas music as we walked through the villages. It was hard to see the children, because it felt like an ordinary day and an ordinary village walk. There were no signs of Christmas in Malawi outside of the nuns' house or the hospital grounds.

My professor and I saw two little girls strolling towards us on our walk. I could see them whispering to each other and pointing at us. I could even hear a faint "Azungu" in their conversation. When the little girls reached us, one ran up to me with her hand in the air. In her hand was a village donut. She wanted to share her Christmas treat with me, an azungu who had just stuffed her face at the nuns' house. I was blown away by her generosity. I think I stood there for a while, because when I came to I heard my professor translate, "She wants to share her donut with you." I thanked her(Zikomo) for her generosity and declined the offer. Instead, I offered her a Christmas greeting, Christmasi zabwino. We smiled and laughed together. I gave her a kagunda (pound it). She gave me a glimpse of the Christmas spirit.

The generosity, warmth, and hospitality of the Malawian people were displayed through their amanda(donuts). When I reflect on these donut experiences, I am amazed by the heart of Christ in the people of Malawi. They embody the generosity of the church of Macedonia as described in 2 Corinthians 8: "[...] their abundance of joy and their extreme poverty have overflowed in a wealth of generosity on their part." In both instances I was overwhelmed that these beautiful people, who have nothing, would offer me their everything, their special treat, on Christmas.

These experiences continue to stir my heart for generosity. Though I am a student and currently do not have a dollar to my name, I am inspired to evaluate my resources with a different perspective. I would love to live a life in which my giving outweighed my receiving. Living in a materialistic culture, this will be a hard change to maintain. Yet, I do not want to be shaped by my culture to have desires and "needs" for clothes, food, and other luxuries that do not reflect my faith or honor the people I met in Malawi. I'm still praying through how The Lord is calling me to spend my resources and how he desires me to steward my privilege, yet I know how I spend money has been changed because of Malawi. My heart's desire is to be a woman of faith that reflects the heart of Christ through my generosity. I would love to embody the generosity of the church of Macedonia as my friends in Malawi have witnessed to me. I want to be a Christian who spends the money I have on things that I need, to support the Kingdom of God which is eternal, and to provide for people I care about.

We are being persuaded to spend money we don't have,

 on things we don't need,

 to create impressions that won't last,

 on people we don't care about.

Tim Jackson

Amayi(mother).

A mother carrying her child on her back

A mother holding her child in the village

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden,

and I will give you rest.

Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me,

for I am gentle and lowly in heart

and you will find rest for your souls.

For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

Matthew 11:28-30

Amayi(mother).

In Malawi your name directly references your mother and your relationship to your mother. For example: the people in Malawi would refer to my mother as Amayi Carolyn (mother of Carolyn) and would call me daughter of Kay. Their process of naming demonstrates their respect for women, especially mothers. 

Malawi is a matriarchal society. I believe part of this is due to their social structure. The men live and work hundreds of kilometers away from their family in order to provide. The women stay home and nurture the children and the farm. In this structure, a father is a less stable parental figure in the family network. Therefore, the women must be strong and lead to keep the family unit together.

The concept of motherhood is very fluid in Malawi. I would be introduced to a patient's guardian as amayi (mother) and then weeks later discover the guardian was actually agogo (grandmother). Transfer of motherhood is also flexible. Adoption in Malawi only requires the approval of the biological mother and the village chief. One of the nurses I met in the hospital had previously adopted a neglected infant in the pediatric ward using that simple process. Even as an azungu (a non-derogatory term for white person), one could be called amayi if she showed love and care to a child similar to the way Malawian mothers love and care for their children. It was interesting to see that even though it is a fluid process, motherhood is always highly esteemed in the community.

I experienced this profound respect for Malawian mothers, especially mothers of children with disability. Malawian mothers always carry their children on their back (as pictured in the photo above). It's quite impressive to see them use a simple piece of cloth (which can also be used as a skirt) with a simple double knot to carry their children on their backs. I saw hundreds of women, walking miles to get to the hospital, carrying their little ones on their back seeking treatment. Some came to the pediatric ward with malaria, some with burns, some with fractures, some with malnutrition, yet, no matter the condition, all the children came to the hospital on their mother's back.

I had the privilege of meeting a mother whose child had cerebral palsy. The mother had traveled all day with her two children to seek physical therapy help at St. Gabriel's. Six months before I met her, she had arrived to St. Gabriel's because she had heard there was physical therapy at the hospital. Unfortunately, our team of physical therapists were not there yet, so she and her two daughters had to walk the trek back to their village with a hopeful PT appointment in December.

When I saw her, I was struck with awe and respect. She had walked miles with her infant wrapped around her front and her 5 year old daughter with cerebral palsy bundled on her back. Since her 5 year old could not walk due to her condition, this mother carried the weight of both her children in order to seek help. When I heard her story from the nurses and discovered that she had made this journey 6 months ago, I was stunned. I cannot imagine walking all day with the weight of 2 children in hopes of finding help for my disabled child. Though I cannot imagine it, I can appreciate it.

I appreciate the love for her children. I appreciate the faith and the hope that there is a better quality of life for her diabled child, if she would fight for it. I appreciate the sacrifice: sacrificing her body, her time, her days work yeild, all for the sake of her children. She embodied a love for her children that was deeper than anything I have ever experienced. A love so deep that she was willing to do anything for it.

This kind of love is not just in Malawi. This kind of motherly sacrifice can be seen everywhere, if you open your eyes to it. Though it may manifest differently due to socioeconomic factors, the essence of this love and this sacrifice can be witnessed here in the States. In the States, I have had the privilege to know a family that represents this type of sacrificial love and I have had the honor of knowing a mother who lays down her life for her child with disability. Though this mother does not physically wear the weight of her child on her back as the mothers in Malawi, she emotionally and spiritually bears the burden of her child.

When my eyes were opened to this similarity between mothers in the States and mothers in Malawi, my heart was encouraged. I was encouraged because it demonstrates that Christ's love is shining through the lives of his people. We have the privilege and the duty to shine Christ's love through our family, our friends, our church - all our interactions.

Yet, as a church, similar to the hospital in Malawi, there comes a time when the mother or the family can no longer bear the weight of their children alone, especially those of children with disability. It is in these moments of need that, as a church, we have the honor of loving our brothers and sisters in Christ by upholding their arms. Whether physical, financial, emotional, spiritual, we are called to love on our family of Christ in their time of need. 

This experience in Malawi opened my eyes to the needs of mothers in my life. It stirred me to seek out those who need help (whatever it may be). It also encouraged me to pray for the mothers in my life, especially those with disabled children. So, again, I urge and encourage you, my readers, to pray for the mothers in your life. Pray for those with children of disability. Yet, don't just pray, come alongside them. Help them bear the burden on their back.

So Joshua fought the Amalekites as Moses had ordered,

and Moses, Aaron and Hur went to the top of the hill.

As long as Moses held up his hands,

the Israelites were winning,

but whenever he lowered his hands,

the Amalekites were winning.

When Moses' hands grew tired,

they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it.

Aaron and Hur held his hands up

- one on one side, one on the other -

so that his hands remained steady till sunset.

So Joshua overcame the Amalekite army with the sword.

Exodus 17:10-13

C.A.K.E.

Children in the market of Namitondo

Most of us read these outlandish numbers [about injustice: poverty and hunger] while sipping our four-dollar lattes.
Often crises cause us to respond monetarily,
but then we move on with our lives.
Solving injustice isn't about throwing money at a problem.
It's about fixing the root of the problem.
As Christians, we have an obligation and responsibility
 to answer the clarion call of injustice not just with our cash but also with our very lives.
[...] [Christians should be] a people moved to solving the systemic problems behind the injustice of the world [...]

Darren Whitehead & Jon Tyson, Rumors of God

C.A.K.E.

This past semester I took an Integumentary (a.k.a. wound, burn, and skin care & management)course. This was a whole new world of physical therapy for me. I never knew that wound debridement and the like fell into the realm of physical therapy practice, and I found it disgusting. To help our class remember important facts my professor made up funny sayings or acronyms to assist our memory. For example: to remember the essential vitamins for wound healing, we were told to eat our C.A.K.E. (vitamin C, A, K & E). 

I remember sitting in Empresso, the local coffee shop in Stockton, sipping on my caramella latte, studying for an Integumentary test. A couple of guys I knew from church entered the coffee shop. Engaging in some small talk, one of the guys asked what I was studying. I showed him the pictures on my powerpoint and proceeded to express my opinions about wound care in PT practice. I told him it was gross and that I would never do wound care, but had to learn about it for licensing reasons. We laughed. He agreed that the pictures were nasty and he left so I could study.

In retrospect I am extremely embarassed by this interaction. My opinions about wound care and PT's involvement with wound care were based upon an ignorance. Though I had studied about C.A.K.E. and the importance of nutrition for wound healing, I had no personal context to apply this knowledge. I had no anchor to provide meaning and so I made harsh and immature comments based on a lack of knowledge.

In Malawi I personally experienced the detrimental effects of malnutrition. I saw children who had not had their C.A.K.E. suffering from wounds which were unable to heal due to a lack of nutrients. I witnessed mothers losing children to hunger due to a lack of resources and a lack of education. I observed Kwashiorkor (severe malnutrition due to a dietary protein deficiency) rob a mother of her child. These experiences personalized malnutrition. They educated me about the importance of Integumentary care in physical therapy. They made me want to fight the injustice of hunger.

Hunger is a wicked problem in Malawi. There are many factors that contribute to this epidemic. It's a detrimental cycle of a lack of resources and a lack of education. I know that I cannot resolve hunger in Malawi on my own. I know that I cannot expect everyone to have the same reactions I have to the words "starvation," "malnutrition," or "hunger." I cannot expect these things because just a month ago I had no concept of hunger and malnutrition. It was not until I witnessed it that I began to understand it's wrath.

Yet, what I do know is that Jesus loves the hungry. I know that he calls his people, his body of Christ, to pray and to fight the injustice of hunger. I know that he wants us to educate ourselves about the injustices in the world and to find tangible ways to fight them, whether big or small. So, if you feel led, please join with me in praying for the hungry in Malawi and all over the world. Pray that Jesus will be the sustainence of the hungry. Pray that he reveals how we can battle the injustice of hunger with not only our cash, but with our lives.

God: the maker of heaven and earth, the sea,

and all that is in them,

God: who is faithful forever, 

who gives justice to people who are oppressed,

who gives bread to people who are starving!

The LORD: who frees prisoners.

The LORD: who makes the blind see.

The LORD: who straightens those who are bent low.

The LORD: who loves the righteous.

The LORD: who protects immigrants,

who helps orphans and widows,

but who makes the way of the wicked twist and turn!

Psalm 146: 6-9

Greetings and handshakes.

These guardians loved to test my Chichewa greetings. On my last day at the hospital they asked for a "snap" (picture).

We hold love in our hands

when we shake them.

Malawian Proverb

Greetings and handshakes.

Mwadzuka bwanji?(How did you wake up?)

Ndadzuka bwino. Kaya inu?(I woke up fine. How about you?)

Ndadzuka bwino. Zikomo.(I woke up fine. Thank you.)

Zikomo.(Thank you.)

This is how I would greet the patients, patients' guardians, staff and anyone else with whom I made eye contact in the morning. Greetings are extremely important to know in Malawi. Since it is a relational culture, it is expected to greet, whether long or short, formal or informal, handshake or quick pass by. You are considered rude if you don't greet someone before asking them a question (such as, "Where are the wheelchairs?") or if you know the person. My professor told us that "azungus" (white people) who did not take the time to greet were made fun of in the hospital. Nurses would say as a foreign doctor strutted through the hospital, "Where is he running off to all serious?" In Malawi you are expected to value the relationship above the task or even the duty.

One of the things I love most about Malawi is the value of the relationship. This value is demonstrated through the way one greets. An important part of the greeting is the handshake. The handshake is intentional, firm, strong. It isn't as short as it is in the States. The length varies, but is proportional to the importance of the relationship. The closer the relationship, the longer the handshake. And the closer you become, the more love you can feel flowing from the handshake. It's like a conductor, transferring love back and forth between people. It's contagious.

The handshake can also be fun: grasp the hand, then the thumb, then the hand again. If you happen to say or do something funny (which I unintentionally did all the time because I'm a silly azungu trying to learn Chichewa), someone (or someones) will give you a jolly firm handshake to congratulate you on your joke (intentional or not). The handshake can reveal the amount of joy and fun between two people.

There is nothing better or more belly-laughing fun than being in the community treatment room with a bunch of women. The patients and the caregivers had so much fun teaching us all and I mean all the common handshakes and greetings. They would test our knowledge by mixing it up, greeting one azungu with "Muli bwa" (Short for "how are you?") and another with "Mwatendela bwino" (still not sure what that means...I couldn't figure out from our sign language, but I think it means good afternoon...and it's a tongue twister). Boy, did they laugh when we would make a mistake and, boy, would they laugh if we conjugated an unfamiliar greeting correctly. So, it really didn't matter what we did, our presence mixed with their presence was a recipe for laughter and handshakes.

I loved those moments. I don't think I have laughed so hard in forever...if ever. What I loved the most is that they were sharing no only a part of their culture but also a part of themselves. Though we couldn't communicate in each other's languages, we could share our love when we shook hands.

The handshake was also a unique way through which the Lord identified my brothers and sisters in Christ. When I shook someones hand, I would know if they were a Christian if we had this unspeakable connection. It was instant camaraderie which was then later confirmed if they would talk about Mulungu(God). It was then wonderful to see these men and women who loved the Lord transform the community treatment room (typically 3 to a room) of strangers into a close-knit family within a week. My heart would then be stirred as I witnessed these patients and their guardians helping one another with meal preparation, cleaning, even physiotherapy programs. It eventual got to the point were I wasn't really needed, because the guardians and patients were helping each other do their exercises and their walking for the day. This brought joy to my heart. This is how physiotherapy should be globally: train the trainer, teach the caregiver, give them the tools to heal and help one another.

As you can see, the greeting and the handshake are much more than a mere gesture. It ignites healing. It unites strangers. It transforms a hospital into a home. I miss my family in Malawi: handshakes, belly-laughs and all. 

The English word hospitality originates from the same Latin root as the word hospital.

A hospital is literally a "home for strangers."

Of course, it has come to mean a place of healing. There is a link between being welcomed and being healed.

Skye Jethani

So much more.

The Zitha House (St. Gabriel's guesthouse)

My bedroom in the Zitha House 

For I was hungry and you gave me food,

I was thirsty and you gave me drink,

I was a stranger and you welcomed me,

I was naked and you clothed me,

I was sick and you visited me,

I was in prison and you came to me.

Matthew 25:35-36 (Read at St. Gabriel's Hospital's morning meetings)

So much more.

I rarely dream. I'm an extremely heavy sleeper (and can sleep just about anywhere), so to dream is usually a special occasion. Typically it means that I am either stressed out (which is the most common reason) or I am ecstatically happy. These dreams either involve a wolf chase (Beauty & the Beast instilled a fear of wolves), or a Cinderella romance (Disney had a large influence on my dream-life). Rarely do these dreams impact my life, besides making me want to watch my childhood movies. So, when I had a dream in Malawi that challenged how I view myself, my faith and my service, I knew it was significant - I knew it was from the Lord.

My dream was about treating patients at St. Gabriel's Hospital. It was vivid: I could see the hospital, the Zitha house (the hospital guesthouse), and my bedroom in such detail that it felt real. In my dream all my senses were heightened. It was an extremely busy and hot day at the hospital, such that I could smell the dirt and the disease on the patients. It was nauseating. Patients were lined up and down the street, trying to enter the hospital. At the end of the day a crowd of patients followed us home to the Zitha house. We tried to tell them to come back to the hospital mawa(tomorrow) because we were exhausted from the busy day at the hospital. Yet, after much pleading, we resolved to treat a few patients on our front porch.

Then I heard the voice of the Lord convicting me, saying, "How much more can you serve them?" So, I decided to treat them in the house, warning the patients not to touch anything because they were filthy. Yet again, the Lord said, "How much more can you serve them?" So, I let them sit in the living room chairs to rest. Yet again, the Lord said, "How much more, Carolyn?" So, I invited them to my room and let them sit at my desk. But still the Lord persisted, "Carolyn, how much more?" So I let them sit on my bed. I felt myself cringing at the thought of their dirty pants and bleeding hands touching my sheets. Yet, it was not close enough for the Lord. Again he insisted, "Carolyn, daughter, how much more can you serve them?" So, finally, I let them lie down in my bed, resting their heads on my pillow. I complained to the Lord, "God, that is my pillow and now it is filthy and I could get sick or dirty." Yet, the Lord did not answer.

I woke up from this dream as if it were a nightmare. My heart raced, my face sweaty. My stomach was in knots. I cringed as I remembered the smells and the blood from my dream, yet I winced at the state of my heart. The Lord had called me out. He had revealed the line between my heart for service and my desire for self-preservation. He showed me that in his kingdom he would abolish this division. He was calling me to serve so much more than I ever imagined - to serve to the point of intimacy, to serve to the point of no boundaries, no privacy. He revealed a part of myself that I had hidden from my dreams of philanthropy and ministry. Yet, it is a part of my heart that needs to be destroyed in order to fulfill the dreams he has placed on my life.

I am still challenged by this dream. I am challenged to search my heart with the Lord and uncover those areas which are deterring me from truly loving, truly serving my brothers and sisters. I don't know what to expect or to anticipate. I just know that the Lord is calling me to so much more than my heart is currently willing to offer.

I share this dream to challenge you, the reader, to search your own heart with the Lord, to uncover and uproot the fears and the prejudices that are preventing you from being the body of Christ to those around you. We all have our imaginary boundary between service and selfishness. The Lord wants to destroy those boundaries. He wants to mold us into the image of Christ - to be the body of Christ, to have the mind of Christ. He is calling us to so much more than we ever imagined (or ever wanted to imagine). It's a calling that is as beautiful and exhilarating as it is challenging and heartbreaking. Can you hear his call? Will you respond to his call for so much more? 

Christ has no body on earth but yours,

no hands but yours,

no feet but yours.

Yours are the eyes through which Christ's compassion for the world is to look out;

yours are the feet with which he is to go about doing good;

and yours are the hands with which he is to bless us now.

St. Teresa of Avila

God has made a way.

Witnessing a miracle: A son walking with his father for the first time in months.

Good news has come to us/

From Calvary's rugged cross/

It is finished/

God has made a way/

Matt Eck (Reality Stockton Worship Leader), "God has made a way"

God has made a way.

Every night in Malawi I would turn on a worship album to drown out the buzzing of mosquitos and humming of flying ants. This technique protected my sleep, as well as my sanity. The mosquito net would ward off the bugs and lizards from entering my bed, but the sound would convince my mind that they were smothering me. So, instead of listening to the insect orchestra, I would listen to songs of the Gospel. This served two purposes: first, masking the bugs, second, ministering to my heart.

There was one album in particular that The Lord used to fix my eyes upon him. This was the Reality Stockton worship album. Hearing songs from my old church reminded me of worshipping back in the States. I would picture myself playing piano and singing harmony with the band or worshipping on the red carpets alongside my brothers and sisters. The memories would be so vivid that it felt like I was there. I could hear the clapping and feel the stomping. Many nights these memories would turn into dreams, blending my waking and sleeping into one large, beautiful worship service. The Lord had hidden these moments in my heart to remind me of his glory and his majesty.  He used them to bring me Christian fellowship when I had no one to dialogue about what God was doing in Malawi.

And, boy, was God doing a lot! Though many people are religious (particularly Catholic, Presbyterian, or Pentecostal in Namitondo), God used this framework of religion to display his glory. He provided the infrastructure for me to use my giftings and profession for his glory. Despite my lack of Chichewa and despite my restriction to discuss my faith with my patients in the hospital, God used the religious background of the Malawians to work miracles.

There is an understanding gap in Malawi about movement. Part of this stems from their traditional medicine, which focuses on rest for recovery. Yet, physical therapy promotes movement for recovery, encouraging patients to be as independent, mobile, and functional as they can be. I met patients who were bedridden for 13 years. I met patients who had not walked for 4 months after their stroke. There was a fear of movement, a fear of falling, a fear of the reminder of their disability. Yet, it was beautiful to watch The Lord use physiotherapy to proclaim freedom from fear to his children. These were the daily miracles I was a part of in Malawi.

My favorite moment was when our team helped a young mother with an unknown neuromuscular condition walk for the first time after a serious bout of pneumonia. This woman had no muscular control and profound weakness in her trunk, hips, and shoulders. At first it seemed impossible to stand her up from bed with 3 people. Yet, once she was standing, she slowly found her balance and would be able to stand independently. I was shocked. She was so weak that it seemed improbable for her to stand by herself, yet alone walk. After seeing her controlled balance, we decided to give her a walker to attempt walking a few steps. I can still hear her voice as she said (and the ward assistant translated), "Glory to God!" As she walked, she continued to give glory to God for her ability to walk. With each step she took, she gave God glory for her recovery. 

This is an example of how God had made a way (just as the worship song heralded) for his majesty to be displayed through physiotherapy in Malawi. He provided the religious cultural context. He provided for our team to teach and treat patients with physiotherapy. He provided the path for his miracles. I was blessed to be a part of the many miracles he performed in Malawi through physiotherapy. I am inspired to see him use my profession as a platform for the miraculous, both here in the States and globally. If there is one thing that I have learned in Malawi, it is that despite my lack, despite my weakness God establishes a path for me to witness to the glory of God. I'm excited to see where his footprints will lead me next.

When we steward our privilege...

The Kingdom comes.

Darren Whitehead and Jon Tyson, Rumors of God