When people find out I went to Africa, it is almost certain they will ask me if I saw any cool animals, so I will tell you right now, that yes I did. I had about 15 lions 10 feet from the car I was in. It was pretty cool.
Right now, before you begin this exciting story, I want you to take this time to abandon any ideas or thoughts you might have about Africa or even what I am going to say, and imagine what it feels likes to save a person’s life.
In this world, there are missionaries saving lives on about $5 a day. These missionaries belong to smaller groups that don’t have the time, manpower, or resources necessary to support each and every need that crosses their doorstep.
How would you choose who gets to live, and who goes home to struggle to live another day?
This is an everyday battle for the missionaries I met in Africa.
And for this reason, my non-profit, Orant Charities exists.
We are a non-profit, faith-based organization that has two main functions. To support missionaries and to organize and lead short-term mission trips for Catholics.
We support small Catholic missionary groups in their efforts to save lives by creating awareness, providing volunteers and raising funds.
We do this by sending Catholics (and others) on short-term mission trips to volunteer with the missionaries we work with.
This is my job. And it all began at my church in Denton at Immaculate Conception.
After I graduated from college I had a difficult time finding a job that I wanted. Then I realized it wasn’t about what I wanted, but instead what God wanted for me.
Then one day, after 11:00 Mass, God approached me with a job offer to begin a new non-profit organization, and that day, God looked like my boss, Seth Morgan. And so began Orant Charities.
From that moment on, I knew it was providential that Seth approached me at Mass.
Mass is where my life began, not only in Hereford, but also in Denton. Mass is where I go to feel at home on the days I miss my mom and family, because I know that my mom and my family celebrate Mass with me, no matter where I am in this world. From Denton, TX to Malawi, Africa, we are together through the Catholic Church and the power of the Eucharist.
On a larger scale, the Church has become my family; because I know that my beautiful faith is Universal, and that when I am in Mass I have a deep connection with each person present.
For me, the Mass connects different languages and cultures and shows me that the people that make up the Body of Christ are all the same in the image and reflection of God’s love. It is a connection that is much deeper than words; it is a connection of souls.
Speaking of connections, God guided us to two amazing missionary groups in Africa. The Missionary Society of St. Paul near Lilongwe, Malawi and the Missionaries of St. Frances De Sales near Maputo, Mozambique.
This experience for me was nothing short of the most beautiful journey of my life. I remember the fear and anxiety I felt before I left as my family kept pointing out that I was going to another continent. I would be half way around the world in some of the poorest countries on this Earth.
It was something new, and something that I never, even in my wildest dreams, thought I would be doing.
I WAS GOING TO AFRICA.
This girl from Hereford, TX who had never left home but a few times. It was a huge ordeal for me, but when I would start to worry about it, I would hear God saying “Be not afraid. I go before you always. Come and follow me.”
I knew that God was calling me to Africa, and I had little clue why.
But now, I know.
It was to bring hope to the missionaries. It was to show them that the world hadn’t forgot about them and the amazing and difficult work they do each day.
It was to celebrate Mass with over 200 orphans.
It was to pray with a dying man.
It was to dance and sing with women that had little reason to be happy.
It was to be God’s hands and feet. To be His arms as I reached out in love to people who I didn’t know.
I am here tonight to tell you of my journey and the people I met and the stories I have heard.
It’s a huge undertaking, but I know that it must be done. It is my moral obligation to help the people I met however I can, because you see, they are the Body of Christ, too.
There are three very important men to me living in Africa.
In Malawi, Fr. Emmanuel and Fr. Emmanuel, affectionately dubbed “Big E” and “Little E” and collectively called the Double E team. Their super hero name, comes with the super hero power to save lives, and they do, one person at a time.
Then there is Fr. Sebi in Mozambique. Possibly the most kind hearted, spirit-filled and loving man of God I have ever known.
Each day, these three men save lives and bring people to Christ through their humble love and compassion. They work with limited resources and wake every morning with the same suffering, pain and sorrow as the day before.
It’s a difficult life to live in Africa, and I know that only by the grace of God these men have the strength to live another day.
Each of these men are priests, counselors, accountants, teachers, farmers, administrators, providers and friends. They do everything in their physical power to provide a better life for the people they serve.
Just being with them a few days wore me out mentally and physically. I can’t fathom the anguish of each day for them. It makes me pray for them constantly, for more strength and peace and for perseverance.
At each village we went to, we greeted each individual, sang a few songs and danced. Then they welcomed us, we thanked them, they would tell us their needs, I would write them down, and they would feed us or give us gifts, then we would sing a dance more and leave.
My first African experience was in the early morning as I celebrated Mass with over 200 orphans.
I remember walking in and being completely overwhelmed by the beautiful, booming singing. I wasn’t sure of the words, or what it all meant, but my soul knew that they were proclaiming God’s praises.
Sitting there in Mass, the Holy Spirit overcame me, and this feeling of peace and serenity surrounded me.
It didn’t seem like I was in Africa at all, but that I was with the Lord. During that moment in Mass I prayed for these songs to greet me when I make it to Heaven.
Their voices were so angelic and they all knew the words to every song without a song sheet or anything like that. To say the least, it was powerful.
That is a moment, I will never forget.
Another very real moment for me, was when we visited a community care center at a local church, where several mothers take care of the orphans in their village. There were easily over 100 children in the church, almost all under the age of three.
They were so cute.
Some cried because of the scary white girl with the blonde hair. As I admired them and took their pictures, Big E pointed out to me that if I was to bring him the pictures back next year he would be able to show me the children that have died because of hunger, curable diseases and being born with HIV/AIDS.
Wow. Talk about a shot in the stomach. In that room of 100 children, more than half will be dead in a year if they do not receive enough food or proper medicine.
Try to think about that when you lay your head down at night. It fills my mind and my heart with great grief, and that’s how I know that my journey to Africa was important because now I am fully aware of the suffering that these people must live through.
I have held these babies. I have kissed the cheeks of the women who care for them. I know they are real; they have names and beautiful faces.
CAN YOU IMAGINE WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO SAVE A LIFE?
For me, all of this was new. Disease, hunger, poverty, suffering and death is not something I personally experience each day. But for people in Africa, it is a way of life. Moments of true suffering were revealed at each turn. But its effect was most damaging to the orphans I met in Malawi.
The Double E Team lives on a compound with over 300 orphans. Ranging in age from infants to young adults. The young adults are the same age as me. The young adults there attend vocational school where they learn a trade like auto mechanics, sewing, wood working, welding or hair styling that will help them get a job to support themselves. But that’s not the hard part. We went to a meeting with these young adults and they sang to us, in English and in native dialect about “What A Life.”
What a life we are going through.
Crying everyday.
Dying everyday.
Just because of hunger and poverty in Africa.
HIV who are you? You are killing our brothers and sisters in Africa.
My mother has gone.
My father has gone.
You leave us with pain, sorrow and sadness.
You have deprived us of our future and happiness.
Where can we go with our sorrow and sadness?
In the world of plenty, some still die of hunger.
Where to go?
Nowhere to go.
This song, and these students had huge impact on me. It was very difficult for me to meet over 40 students, my age, who had lost both of their parents. They are smart, they are educating themselves, and they hardly have a fighting chance to make it, with the average life expectancy at 36 years of age. Most of them are half way through their lives. And they know that. How surreal is that? But these young adults are empowering themselves to make a difference in the world.
They have skits and songs that promote abstinence and teach about HIV/AIDS. Most people in Africa don’t believe that the disease even exists. Some of them don’t even know how you can contract it. But these young adults are taking a stand to teach the younger children and to help put a stop to this horrible disease.
And they are making a difference, too. A voluntary AIDS test revealed that out of 128 young adults, only one tested positive for HIV/AIDS. 1 out of 128. The average estimate for Africa as a whole is 1 in 5. This shows that the priests at St. Paul are doing something very right.
One day, I had a very real encounter with AIDS. It was the day I met my friend Emilio. As I walked into his home made of reed, that was probably an 8x10 room that had a modest bed made of blankets, I saw a very frail man laying on the bed. It was Emilio. He is 34 and Fr. Sebi told us that he was days away from death. His body was emancipated. He was so skinny, and his facial features were sunken in, he almost didn’t look human.
Myself and Seth, sat on the bed with him. Seth held his hand, and I put my hand on his knee as I was asked to pray for Emilio.
How do you pray for a man you just met who is dying of AIDS? I don’t even speak his language! I asked the Holy Spirit to come upon me and pray with me. And I asked God to have mercy on him and to grant him the peace that he didn’t have on this Earth.
When I walked out of Emilio’s home, I was flooded with emotions. I had never known someone dying with AIDS. To me, it was always one of those things you hear about, but something you rarely see. I knew that would be the last time I would ever see Emilio, unless we meet again in Heaven. That crushed me.
I think of Emilio very often, and pray for him. I found out just yesterday afternoon that Emilio died two weeks after we left Africa.
Emilio is a very real part of Africa for me, and I am so grateful to have met him. Those few minutes with him altered my perception on AIDS and on the pandemic that covers Africa. For me, Emilio gave AIDS a face, a pulse, a frail beating heart. Now, to help fight for others just like him is a top priority for me.
Despite all of this sadness, the people I met in Africa were very happy. They were kind, gentle, generous, caring and loving.
One thing that keeps people smiling day in and day out is to dance. And they dance a lot. I danced a lot with them, and I’m not much of a dancer. But as you come up to a village with people standing outside to greet you, and they are singing and dancing, smiling and waving, you can’t help but dance along.
Plus, when I would dance, the women would giggle and laugh. It brought them so much joy to see me, this crazy white girl with blonde hair, out there dancing with them. Maybe they were laughing at my inability to even follow a simple beat, but nonetheless, they were happy. I would give up my pride any time to bring a smile to the faces of those I met. They deserve it.
What other break do they have in their monotonous routine of suffering, disease and death? They don’t have anything. Dancing and singing is one of the only escapes they have from everyday life. It’s what gets them up each morning to live another day. Fr. Sebi told me, that if they can walk, they will dance.
And that makes me remember Leena. She was the oldest woman in the last village we visited. Fr. Sebi had just told me the importance of dancing, and there sat Leena. On the ground, with her thin, reed cane beside her. She looked like she might be blind or legless. But as her community started singing, she, the oldest by about 20 years, got up and danced. I danced right beside her, knowing that she was truly happy.
Fr. Sebi had given me meticais to give her, it was about three dollars, but when I handed it to her, she was so happy. As the people do in Africa when they are very excited, she let out a loud whoop and began singing and dancing. She kissed each of our hands as she held them in her hands filled with wisdom and years of hardships, and we kissed her hands. She was so special.
Later as we sat around the dinner table with the priests, Fr. Sebi told me that the money I gave her was probably the most she had ever held in her hand at one time.
That blew me away!
It was three dollars. I was given three dollars when I was just a kid. What a mind-blowing thing. Fr. Sebi said that moment added days to her life. It’s weird to think you can have that effect on people, by doing the littlest things.
When it came time to leave Malawi, I cried uncontrollably, even on the plane, I fought back tears of grief. A grief so deep and so surreal, I spent less than two days with my friends in Malawi, but I loved them with the heart of Christ. They are my brothers and sisters. And when I left that morning, I felt like I was abandoning them. Why should I get to leave and they have to stay? They don’t have an escape. I do. And what if, something happens to them or to me before I make it back next year?
My only hope is that I will meet them again someday in Heaven, where there isn’t AIDS or hunger or suffering or sorrow. Only dancing and singing, laughing and loud whoops of excitement.
10.25.2007
My Africa Talk
7.11.2007
Researching Africa
I've been trying to prepare myself for Africa by reading anything I see on news sites, magazines, books and the like. I can't help but feel honored to be able to go on this trip. I just watched this report on CNN Video about how girls in Kenya, Africa are "booked" for marriage sometimes at their birth. Around 80% of Maasai (that's the culture there) girls never complete elementary school. Almost all girls are married by the age of 13 and about 93% are female "circumcised."
I started to watch a video about the female circumcision and I couldn't get through the first five seconds. I don't recommend watching that clip. It was very graphic.
It's overwhelming to me, that when I go to the different areas in Malawi and Mozambique, I will be an educated female. I'm almost certain that in very rare in remote villages. From what I understand, schooling is very limited to females, unless, like the video I watched, the girls are "booked" for school and complete that way.
I'm trying to wrap my head around the culture that I will be stepping into in August. I don't think there is anything more American than not understanding another culture. I want to be able to understand why things are the way they are. I think this will also help me with the culture shock and my super soft heart that always brings me to tears.
Speaking of researching, the National Geographic cover story for this month is Malaria. I think I'm going to read it, even though it will freak me out. My doctor told me yesterday that he had been to Rwanda. That's some heavy stuff! He said he would research the best type of Malaria medicine for me to take and recommended me getting the typhoid and yellow fever shots and the shot for spinal meningitis. I hadn't thought about that one.
I just had to write about all this to get it off my chest. Back to work.
7.01.2007
Off to Africa
After you read this passage, you will understand why God played this song for me.
"Be not afraid. I go before you always. Come, follow me."
I'm going to Africa!
Oh my goodness. I can't believe that I am going to be in Africa in August. It's something so grand, it's beyond my comprehension at the moment.
I thought it was a closed subject, I wasn't going, and I was ok with that. If you read my last entry, I had given it up, and I was alright with doing whatever God wanted. I figured it wasn't in the plans.
But then, I get to work this morning, all had changed, and Michael and were talking about getting me on the plane to Africa with him and Seth.
My cup runneth over.
I sent out an e-mail to my brothers and sisters, I'm sure they all think I am crazy. But I know that this experience is sent straight from Heaven.
I e-mailed Fr. Sebi right away to tell him that I was coming. This is part of the e-mail he sent me. (I told him that my mom was a little afraid of me going.)
Subject: KHANIMAMBO= OBRIGADO=THANK U. HOYO-HOYO=BEM VINDO= WELCOME. WAHANHA=COMO ESTA = HOW ARE YOU?
Indeed, Abby, I smiled. peace begins. Is it not great?
You are coming!!! Wonderful.
Thank God for your wonderful mother. My love to your darling mother.
You are only 22. (I am 63; and yet I am cold as a snail!!) Goodness gracious!! And you are doing so much. No doubt you have admirable "fire" in you.
The good Lord has empowered you. Fantastic.
Come my lady, dont be frightened. Our life is God's gift. He gives. We live for Him. He decides. We only have to be prudent. He leads.
We go to celebrate Mass through herds of elephants. we see crocodiles, we see hipopotamus. (You will have wild meat and lake fish, lobsters from the indian ocean and prawns from the maputo-bay).
I am prompted to say nothing will happen to you. I'm sure the good Lord wants you to serve Him for many years to come.
Life is so good, and to quote Fr. Sebi, "The ways of the Lord are wonderful."
I will be working a lot while we are in Africa. Video, pictures, notes, journaling, interviewing, volunteering, traveling to three countries in 10 days!
Not in my wildest dreams would I have ever imagined, that I, Miss Small Town Texas, who never traveled much in her life, would be going to Africa for mission work. Wow.
So much to prepare for. Shots, writing, marketing, working and everything else that comes my way!
Thank you Lord for your magnificence and your glory. Without you, I am nothing.
{peace}
"Be not afraid. I go before you always. Come, follow me."
I'm going to Africa!
Oh my goodness. I can't believe that I am going to be in Africa in August. It's something so grand, it's beyond my comprehension at the moment.
I thought it was a closed subject, I wasn't going, and I was ok with that. If you read my last entry, I had given it up, and I was alright with doing whatever God wanted. I figured it wasn't in the plans.
But then, I get to work this morning, all had changed, and Michael and were talking about getting me on the plane to Africa with him and Seth.
My cup runneth over.
I sent out an e-mail to my brothers and sisters, I'm sure they all think I am crazy. But I know that this experience is sent straight from Heaven.
I e-mailed Fr. Sebi right away to tell him that I was coming. This is part of the e-mail he sent me. (I told him that my mom was a little afraid of me going.)
Subject: KHANIMAMBO= OBRIGADO=THANK U. HOYO-HOYO=BEM VINDO= WELCOME. WAHANHA=COMO ESTA = HOW ARE YOU?
Indeed, Abby, I smiled. peace begins. Is it not great?
You are coming!!! Wonderful.
Thank God for your wonderful mother. My love to your darling mother.
You are only 22. (I am 63; and yet I am cold as a snail!!) Goodness gracious!! And you are doing so much. No doubt you have admirable "fire" in you.
The good Lord has empowered you. Fantastic.
Come my lady, dont be frightened. Our life is God's gift. He gives. We live for Him. He decides. We only have to be prudent. He leads.
We go to celebrate Mass through herds of elephants. we see crocodiles, we see hipopotamus. (You will have wild meat and lake fish, lobsters from the indian ocean and prawns from the maputo-bay).
I am prompted to say nothing will happen to you. I'm sure the good Lord wants you to serve Him for many years to come.
Life is so good, and to quote Fr. Sebi, "The ways of the Lord are wonderful."
I will be working a lot while we are in Africa. Video, pictures, notes, journaling, interviewing, volunteering, traveling to three countries in 10 days!
Not in my wildest dreams would I have ever imagined, that I, Miss Small Town Texas, who never traveled much in her life, would be going to Africa for mission work. Wow.
So much to prepare for. Shots, writing, marketing, working and everything else that comes my way!
Thank you Lord for your magnificence and your glory. Without you, I am nothing.
{peace}
Let go, and let God.
"The ways of the Lord are wonderful."
Fr. Sebi (short for Sebastian) an Indian (the country) missionary priest in Mozambique, Africa told me that in a letter today after he had written about the severe poverty and needs of the people he serves. What kind of faith that must be, to trust and rejoice in the Lord even when you are in horrible conditions.
It's moments like this that I want to run off to Africa. I want to experience all that Fr. Sebi sees everyday. I want to know what makes him so hopeful in the face of such grave suffering.
I want to be able to tell the world about the suffering that children and adults endure each day as we sit and drink our Starbucks and in our air-conditioned offices.
All of mine and Fr. Sebi's conversations have shown the hope he has for the future of the people he serves. It's inspiring. I can actually pinpoint the moment I thought to myself, "I have to visit him." But the thing is, Seth and Michael don't know how safe Mozambique and Malawi would be for this fair-skinned, blondie.
I can't blame them for worrying. But I really feel called to go. It's in my heart. God's planted that desire in me. I have resided to let it go and let God. If I am suppose to be in Africa, I will be there, in the Big Man's time, not mine.
*Sigh* I can still tell the world about Africa from here in my air-conditioned office or by the power of my running car, it just won't be as life changing of an experience that I can remember for the rest of my life.
{peace}
5.31.2007
Back from Mexico
Hola!
It's nice to type on my little English keyboard. The keyboard I used in Villa Garcia was not that easy for me. It took me at least a day to figure out how to type a comma into my e-mails. Although it was nice for typing in Spanish, i.e. inverted question mark and exclamation point.
You are probably wondering how I had internet access in Villa Garcia. The family that helps in the Mexico side of Weavers of Hope owns an internet store where people can come in and pay 5 pesos (that's 50 cents for us Americans) for 20 minutes. For some reason, it was very slow on my blogger account, so I resolved to write when I returned. And here I am, writing.
So, the trip was awesome. Each day more exciting than the previous. We made home visits to a few students (Gloria, Juana and Maria), Abel the brickmaker, Don Chuy the wood carver, and several weavers.
Weaving is a 500 year tradition in Villa Garcia. Families have passed down the art and the skill to each generation. The main group of weavers that Weavers of Hope purchases from is a family who has consistent quality work. They even made a few of their own looms.
It appears to be quite the workout. They strap themselves in with a wooden bar in front of and behind them. Their feet are constantly moving to step on the pedals that connect to the different parts of the contraption. It's a lot of work, but the end result is a hand crafted masterpiece. No two are ever exactly alike.
The colored yarn is thrown between the main set of strings and the pattern forms through counting strings and weaving yarn in and out. It is quite the event to watch, at least I thought so.
I purchased another beautiful rug (I have one from the first time we met Jack at the Texas Mission Conference) and am in the process of trying to set up a non-profit account through Ebay as another channel of selling rugs. All the proceeds from the rugs would go back to Weavers of Hope and into their scholarship fund.
My evenings were spent with Sr. Fran. I think it was my first time to spend the night with a nun. :) Her house is beautiful. KiKo, who helps Sister Fran in operating the program, built the house for Sr. Fran. He did a great job. Kiko is a jack of all trades. Literally. That guy can do anything and everything. He even showed me how to weave! Talk about talent. He and his family are very instrumental in the Mexico side of Weavers for Hope.
I met two very special young girls while making house visits in Ranchero Nuevo. Meet Gloria. She is currently in school and preparing to have therapy for her legs and for the rest of her body. She is very sweet and you can tell in her interaction with her nephews that she has the most gentle of spirits.
Gloria is in the scholarship program to assist with her schooling and transportation for therapy. During her interview for the WOH video, she talked and talked and from what I could tell with my little knowledge of Spanish, she was a great public speaker.
This is Gloria's cousin, Juana. (Maria is standing up, she is Juana's mentor in the scholarship program and that is Juana's little brother). Juana was born with her legs turned outward. The doctors have told her family that her condition is inoperable. She attends school through TeleSchool, it's teaching through TVs, I'm not quite sure how it works, but I do know that Juana really enjoys school. She has bright green eyes and a beautiful smile.
My last picture and little story is about Don Chuy. He carves the most stunning face of Christ out of mesquite wood. The first time I met Don Chuy, I couldn't help but hug him. He radiates peace from his very core. He, too, has bright green eyes and a very kind smile. I couldn't help but take a few pictures of him while he was carving for us.
Look at the detail of his carving. It reminds me of the shroud that Victoria wiped Jesus' face with on the way to Calvary. Don Chuy once won a national award for his carving. I don't remember what he had carved, but I do know that he had carved something intricate with a spoon! Now, that is tough work.
Overall, the trip was amazing. I learned a lot about Villa Garcia and the people there. My conversations with Sr. Fran helped me understand (in English) all the different projects that help better the lives of the people. I felt safe, respected and appreciated. I can't wait to return. Hopefully we'll make a return group with Orant in October.
Feel free to check out the rest of my pictures from my trip at
http://picasaweb.google.com/abigailrenee/VillaGarciaZacatecasMexico
It's nice to type on my little English keyboard. The keyboard I used in Villa Garcia was not that easy for me. It took me at least a day to figure out how to type a comma into my e-mails. Although it was nice for typing in Spanish, i.e. inverted question mark and exclamation point.
You are probably wondering how I had internet access in Villa Garcia. The family that helps in the Mexico side of Weavers of Hope owns an internet store where people can come in and pay 5 pesos (that's 50 cents for us Americans) for 20 minutes. For some reason, it was very slow on my blogger account, so I resolved to write when I returned. And here I am, writing.
So, the trip was awesome. Each day more exciting than the previous. We made home visits to a few students (Gloria, Juana and Maria), Abel the brickmaker, Don Chuy the wood carver, and several weavers.
Weaving is a 500 year tradition in Villa Garcia. Families have passed down the art and the skill to each generation. The main group of weavers that Weavers of Hope purchases from is a family who has consistent quality work. They even made a few of their own looms.
It appears to be quite the workout. They strap themselves in with a wooden bar in front of and behind them. Their feet are constantly moving to step on the pedals that connect to the different parts of the contraption. It's a lot of work, but the end result is a hand crafted masterpiece. No two are ever exactly alike.
The colored yarn is thrown between the main set of strings and the pattern forms through counting strings and weaving yarn in and out. It is quite the event to watch, at least I thought so.
I purchased another beautiful rug (I have one from the first time we met Jack at the Texas Mission Conference) and am in the process of trying to set up a non-profit account through Ebay as another channel of selling rugs. All the proceeds from the rugs would go back to Weavers of Hope and into their scholarship fund.
My evenings were spent with Sr. Fran. I think it was my first time to spend the night with a nun. :) Her house is beautiful. KiKo, who helps Sister Fran in operating the program, built the house for Sr. Fran. He did a great job. Kiko is a jack of all trades. Literally. That guy can do anything and everything. He even showed me how to weave! Talk about talent. He and his family are very instrumental in the Mexico side of Weavers for Hope.
I met two very special young girls while making house visits in Ranchero Nuevo. Meet Gloria. She is currently in school and preparing to have therapy for her legs and for the rest of her body. She is very sweet and you can tell in her interaction with her nephews that she has the most gentle of spirits.
Gloria is in the scholarship program to assist with her schooling and transportation for therapy. During her interview for the WOH video, she talked and talked and from what I could tell with my little knowledge of Spanish, she was a great public speaker.
This is Gloria's cousin, Juana. (Maria is standing up, she is Juana's mentor in the scholarship program and that is Juana's little brother). Juana was born with her legs turned outward. The doctors have told her family that her condition is inoperable. She attends school through TeleSchool, it's teaching through TVs, I'm not quite sure how it works, but I do know that Juana really enjoys school. She has bright green eyes and a beautiful smile.
My last picture and little story is about Don Chuy. He carves the most stunning face of Christ out of mesquite wood. The first time I met Don Chuy, I couldn't help but hug him. He radiates peace from his very core. He, too, has bright green eyes and a very kind smile. I couldn't help but take a few pictures of him while he was carving for us.
Look at the detail of his carving. It reminds me of the shroud that Victoria wiped Jesus' face with on the way to Calvary. Don Chuy once won a national award for his carving. I don't remember what he had carved, but I do know that he had carved something intricate with a spoon! Now, that is tough work.
Overall, the trip was amazing. I learned a lot about Villa Garcia and the people there. My conversations with Sr. Fran helped me understand (in English) all the different projects that help better the lives of the people. I felt safe, respected and appreciated. I can't wait to return. Hopefully we'll make a return group with Orant in October.
Feel free to check out the rest of my pictures from my trip at
http://picasaweb.google.com/abigailrenee/VillaGarciaZacatecasMexico
5.17.2007
Going to Mexico and other things
On May 24th, I am leaving with a small group from Austin called Weavers of Hope, to go and check out the area and try to help out at a village they work with in Zacatecas, Mexico. Weavers of Hope is an organization that purchases rugs fair trade from a group of weavers. (They are beautiful rugs, I already have one at my apartment.) They purchase the rugs from the Weavers at a negotiated price and in turn sell them in the States. The profit of the rug sales goes to the other part of Weavers of Hope, and that is a scholarship program for students in the area.
I am so very excited to go visit. It's a 17 hour drive, we will stay the night in Saltillo on our journey to help break up the car ride. We will have a lot of time for prayer, reflection, and I hope sleeping and reading. :)
Packing will be fun. I've been told it's cool in the mornings and warmer in the days. I imagine it will be similar to Guatemala's weather.
Speaking of Guatemala, it looks like I am taking a group of teens and their parents in July. I can't wait to go back. Eric is going to go as a our translator. I think I need to spend the next week speaking, reading and listening to Spanish to help with my fluency. I know it's better when I am immersed in it, but this time I want to know more so that I can actually carry on a simple conversation past, "Como esta usted?"
On Tuesday, Seth and I met with John and Kathy Tucker from New Hope for Cambodian Children. They are in the States for a little bit to visit families and to give personal thank yous. They are such an amazing couple and incredible individuals. The Holy Spirit flowed from their head to their toes.
I can't wait to go to Cambodia and volunteer for them!
I am trying to figure out how to add a DVD to our website for everyone to view. The Tucker's had a DVD made of their organization and it's pretty great. I'll get it up soon to share with the web world.
I'm out.
I am so very excited to go visit. It's a 17 hour drive, we will stay the night in Saltillo on our journey to help break up the car ride. We will have a lot of time for prayer, reflection, and I hope sleeping and reading. :)
Packing will be fun. I've been told it's cool in the mornings and warmer in the days. I imagine it will be similar to Guatemala's weather.
Speaking of Guatemala, it looks like I am taking a group of teens and their parents in July. I can't wait to go back. Eric is going to go as a our translator. I think I need to spend the next week speaking, reading and listening to Spanish to help with my fluency. I know it's better when I am immersed in it, but this time I want to know more so that I can actually carry on a simple conversation past, "Como esta usted?"
On Tuesday, Seth and I met with John and Kathy Tucker from New Hope for Cambodian Children. They are in the States for a little bit to visit families and to give personal thank yous. They are such an amazing couple and incredible individuals. The Holy Spirit flowed from their head to their toes.
I can't wait to go to Cambodia and volunteer for them!
I am trying to figure out how to add a DVD to our website for everyone to view. The Tucker's had a DVD made of their organization and it's pretty great. I'll get it up soon to share with the web world.
I'm out.
3.27.2007
Viva Guatemala
Humbling, isn't it? I think that's the best word to describe our trip to the villages of Patzun, Guatemala. The people were humble and they loved with great abundance. It's so apparent that God is in the heart and soul of every person that crossed our path. You could feel God's presence each time we passed people on the streets and they greeted us with hearty welcomes and smiles. Seeing children take on the chores of adults, but they still had a childish innocence about them. It was all so amazing.
Saturday, when we arrived at the convent, we had the best guacamole in the world. Not even kidding. I think I ate three guacamole tostados. The avocados there are about the size of a softball. So yummy. After lunch, we set up our pharmacy and got ready for a clinic. I had the job of passing out the toys and candy Orant donated, it was a very rewarding job. Little girls loved getting hair clips and the glow-pads. And the little boys were thrilled when they saw the dinosaurs and sea creatures. Their faces would light up when we brought out the soccer balls.
This one girl, who was about 16, came up to me and asked me in Spanish to teach her words in English. Molly, Esteban and I tried to think of good words to teach her. We taught her easy words: brother, sister, cousin, mom, dad, baseball, soccer ball, shirt, hair, eyes, mouth. All easy words. She would say them back to me in Spanish, but I already knew the words I told her, so it was more a lesson for her. It was fun though, and a very interesting interaction.
One prominent observation I made was that language can be a barrier, but only if you let it stop you. There were so many people I was able to communicate with without actually saying anything (or at the least, very little) and still have a general understanding. A hug, a reassuring pat or smile, all so simple and taken for granted in our society, but I noticed the effect of the non-verbal more than I did the verbal.
Sunday we went to Mass and the sermon lasted about 45 minutes, in Spanish, while we stood the entire time. I tell you what, I don't ever want to hear anyone complain about the length of a Mass in my life. The crazy part was I loved the Mass, it was a feeling of home, even if I didn't understand the homily.
After Mass we made the long haul up and down the winding roads in the mountains to get to Lake Atitlan. It's a beautiful lake surrounded by three volcanoes. Check out my picture site for awesome scenery pictures. http://picasaweb.google.com/abigailrenee
The next five days were spent going out to the villages via trucks with all of our meds and packed lunches. We usually set up our "office" in old churches and made use of the space. Molly and I were in charge of vitals and got very use to saying certain phrases in Spanish. "Abajo de la lengua" (under your tongue, talking about taking their temperature) and along that same line, "cierra la boca" (close your mouth.) By the end of the trip I was reported as saying these phrases in my sleep. :)
Our first day in the villages, I fell in love with the kids. We colored, they all colored pictures for me, they are perfect!
One day, Molly and I were sitting outside with our two drivers waiting for more patients, when we noticed our driver's (his nickname is QuiQue) dry hands. We slathered his hands with lotion and when we turned around, there were about 6 kids wanting lotion on their hands. It was like watching a lotion commercial. Their skin soaked up the lotion so quickly, even the little boys liked having soft hands.
Throughout the day we would pass out toys to our patients, and by the end of the day, we would have about 20 kids standing around waiting for us to pass out toys to all of them. That was always entertaining. We were mobbed every time by the kids. It was cute.
When we were at the school in El Sitio, Mari and I went around to a few of the classes and had the teachers hold a singing contest, and the kids that sang the loudest in front of the class would get a toy. It was so cool to see the similarities between American kids and the kids we were with. They all act the same. :)
I could write a million words about my experience, (like I did in my journal I kept on the trip) but I think most people would stop reading. I have many more stories and observations, so I will try to write more later or periodically tell stories in other posts. But for now, check out my pictures. There are over a million words for you to see there. http://picasaweb.google.com/abigailrenee
To sum up my experience, it awakened my soul to the goodness that God has all around His world.
Peace,
Abby
3.15.2007
Passport Woes
After reading this blog, you will want to go and apply for your passport, even if you aren't planning to leave the country for 5 years.
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There's a new law out that requires every person leaving or entering the U.S. to have a passport. Yes, you have always had to have a passport to leave North America, but now, even if you are traveling to Mexico or Canada from the U.S. you must have a passport.
This new law has caused quite the influx in passports for US Citizens. I happen to have a story to share about my most recent and terrifying passport experience. Go pop a bag of popcorn, I promise this story (even my shortened version) is entertaining.
-------------------------------------------------------
It all began on a sunny Friday on the 26th of January when I learned I was going to Guatemala with my church's Medical Mission Team. I called my mom and told her to send my certified copy of my birth certificate, she sent it out that day. One month later, it finally arrived in my mailbox. Apparently there had been a miscommunication between my momma and I and my apartment number wasn't on the envelope. After floating around the well-ran postal system it got back to my mom where she put my apartment number and a few days later it was in my possession.
On February 22nd, I knew I was cutting it a little close, but I had read over all the passport information and I was sure that if I paid the extra money to have it expedited in 10-14 business days I would have my passport. Twelve business days later, no sign of it. My sister-in-law told me that I could check its status online, so I did. But the online system couldn't find my information. That was weird. So I kept checking it, hoping something would change with each click. No luck.
On Monday, March 12th, I called the National Passport Information Center (NPIC) about 100 times before I finally got through to be put on hold to speak to someone. They checked my information and couldn't find me.
My passport was stuck in limbo between the bank that deposits all of their money and the place that inputs all data. It was easy to tell that it wasn't at the data place. So where the heck was it? "It's probably in our lock box."
WHAT? I paid for speedy service and its sitting locked up where you can't get to it?
I have never claimed to be brilliant, but even to my small brain, that didn't seem very smart.
(For future reference in this blog and all other blogs that I write, I'm a crier.)
Tears streamed down my face as the sweet lady on the other end of the line began to tell me my options for getting my passport.
I had to go to Houston and bring all of my information to re-apply for my passport. I was told by the lady at the NPIC that I would leave that day with my passport and reimbursement in hand. So I made my appointment for 1:30 on Wednesday, March 14th and was told not to be there more than 15 minutes early. I have never been to Houston (unless you count running through the airport trying to catch a connecting flight) so I was a little nervous to make the 4-5 hour drive. But I did and I got there about 11:30. I found the passport place, went to get something to eat, and just sat in my car waiting for 1:15 to roll around.
I went to the office expecting a reception area with a person asking about my appointment time, maybe a few chairs with a few other people. But no. There was a long waiting line just to get a ticket number. I waited for an hour and a half. Once I got my number, I sat down and waited another 30 minutes. They called my number and I went to window number 8.
I slipped my papers and ID under the window slot and waited to tell my story. After the clerk checked my information with my birth certificate she said I would get my passport at 10:30 the next morning.
WHAT? I began to sob. I drove from Dallas at 6:30 this morning to sit here and wait, I couldn't stay the night in Houston I had to work and pack and not too mention my flight leaves on Friday from Dallas.
The clerk found me a tissue and asked me to stop crying, and I tried, but I began to hyperventilate. It was awful.
She must have felt sorry for me because she went to check on what strings she could pull to get me my passport by the end of the day. Someone else had come in with a "Life or Death Emergency" and I got tacked on with their passport order. (Is it bad to be happy about that?) But still I didn't get my reimbursement for the money I had paid for my original passport, instead I was told it would be about 6 months. I cried a little bit more.
"You're still crying?" the clerk asked me. "You got your passport. One out of two isn't bad. Most people don't get their passport. You are very lucky."
I tried to stop crying again as I wrote out another check to pay for my stinking passport.
One hour and thirty minutes later the security guard called my name for me to pick up my passport. I think I might have cried a little.
As if from nowhere the large burden that was beginning to crush me was lifted off my chest. Outside was a little brighter (even though it was pouring) and my world was better. I'm leaving for Guatemala in less than 31 hours and my excitement is getting more difficult to contain.
-------------------------------------------------------
My mom said that she thinks I have a large blessing coming my way in Guatemala for all of the trouble I went through to get there. To me, just getting to go on this trip is blessing enough. But I will keep you informed on anything that comes my way.
-------------------------------------------------------
Lesson learned from my troubles? Get your passport now to give bureaucracy enough time to keep your passport in a lock box.
-------------------------------------------------------
There's a new law out that requires every person leaving or entering the U.S. to have a passport. Yes, you have always had to have a passport to leave North America, but now, even if you are traveling to Mexico or Canada from the U.S. you must have a passport.
This new law has caused quite the influx in passports for US Citizens. I happen to have a story to share about my most recent and terrifying passport experience. Go pop a bag of popcorn, I promise this story (even my shortened version) is entertaining.
-------------------------------------------------------
It all began on a sunny Friday on the 26th of January when I learned I was going to Guatemala with my church's Medical Mission Team. I called my mom and told her to send my certified copy of my birth certificate, she sent it out that day. One month later, it finally arrived in my mailbox. Apparently there had been a miscommunication between my momma and I and my apartment number wasn't on the envelope. After floating around the well-ran postal system it got back to my mom where she put my apartment number and a few days later it was in my possession.
On February 22nd, I knew I was cutting it a little close, but I had read over all the passport information and I was sure that if I paid the extra money to have it expedited in 10-14 business days I would have my passport. Twelve business days later, no sign of it. My sister-in-law told me that I could check its status online, so I did. But the online system couldn't find my information. That was weird. So I kept checking it, hoping something would change with each click. No luck.
On Monday, March 12th, I called the National Passport Information Center (NPIC) about 100 times before I finally got through to be put on hold to speak to someone. They checked my information and couldn't find me.
My passport was stuck in limbo between the bank that deposits all of their money and the place that inputs all data. It was easy to tell that it wasn't at the data place. So where the heck was it? "It's probably in our lock box."
WHAT? I paid for speedy service and its sitting locked up where you can't get to it?
I have never claimed to be brilliant, but even to my small brain, that didn't seem very smart.
(For future reference in this blog and all other blogs that I write, I'm a crier.)
Tears streamed down my face as the sweet lady on the other end of the line began to tell me my options for getting my passport.
I had to go to Houston and bring all of my information to re-apply for my passport. I was told by the lady at the NPIC that I would leave that day with my passport and reimbursement in hand. So I made my appointment for 1:30 on Wednesday, March 14th and was told not to be there more than 15 minutes early. I have never been to Houston (unless you count running through the airport trying to catch a connecting flight) so I was a little nervous to make the 4-5 hour drive. But I did and I got there about 11:30. I found the passport place, went to get something to eat, and just sat in my car waiting for 1:15 to roll around.
I went to the office expecting a reception area with a person asking about my appointment time, maybe a few chairs with a few other people. But no. There was a long waiting line just to get a ticket number. I waited for an hour and a half. Once I got my number, I sat down and waited another 30 minutes. They called my number and I went to window number 8.
I slipped my papers and ID under the window slot and waited to tell my story. After the clerk checked my information with my birth certificate she said I would get my passport at 10:30 the next morning.
WHAT? I began to sob. I drove from Dallas at 6:30 this morning to sit here and wait, I couldn't stay the night in Houston I had to work and pack and not too mention my flight leaves on Friday from Dallas.
The clerk found me a tissue and asked me to stop crying, and I tried, but I began to hyperventilate. It was awful.
She must have felt sorry for me because she went to check on what strings she could pull to get me my passport by the end of the day. Someone else had come in with a "Life or Death Emergency" and I got tacked on with their passport order. (Is it bad to be happy about that?) But still I didn't get my reimbursement for the money I had paid for my original passport, instead I was told it would be about 6 months. I cried a little bit more.
"You're still crying?" the clerk asked me. "You got your passport. One out of two isn't bad. Most people don't get their passport. You are very lucky."
I tried to stop crying again as I wrote out another check to pay for my stinking passport.
One hour and thirty minutes later the security guard called my name for me to pick up my passport. I think I might have cried a little.
As if from nowhere the large burden that was beginning to crush me was lifted off my chest. Outside was a little brighter (even though it was pouring) and my world was better. I'm leaving for Guatemala in less than 31 hours and my excitement is getting more difficult to contain.
-------------------------------------------------------
My mom said that she thinks I have a large blessing coming my way in Guatemala for all of the trouble I went through to get there. To me, just getting to go on this trip is blessing enough. But I will keep you informed on anything that comes my way.
-------------------------------------------------------
Lesson learned from my troubles? Get your passport now to give bureaucracy enough time to keep your passport in a lock box.
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