The last few days have been fantastic, and by fantastic I don't mean in a time-of-my-life sort of way but rather a time-to-relax-with-nothing-planned-and-nowhere-to-be sort of way... to the point that I spent much of the weekend studying a list of things to do and then just watching the Olympics.


Finished up a painting last week, of which my favorite piece is this top photo. I'm not a real cutesy heart type, but I love how this part turned out. "Love fiercely" (which you can barely see in the top right) was part of the painting that described the friends who were the victims recipients of this piece. They love people so well and are already missed.


Along with a final dinner for the above mentioned friends came crockpot chicken. I hence forth declare that I shall never cook a whole chicken in any other fashion. So tasty – and props to whoever invented crockpot liners.


Books, books, and more books. I've been so busy the last few months that I haven't done a whole lot of reading. But this is a "quieter" season of life (at least, today is), and so I'm soaking in every page I can get. Is there a limit on how many books you can read at one time? (I count 13 here...)


And I can't leave out a trip to JJ's, the local snow cone stand. Apparently it's the Cajun Cones of Abilene. I don't know if I can make that bold of a judgement call based on one visit, but the Blackberry/Yellow Cake Batter did not disappoint. It's like a rite of passage into summer... now that summer's nearly over. Great timing.


I'm also becoming a fan of Instagram, although I have a few misgivings about it taking away from the legitimacy of good photo editing. But hey, if it can make a crockpot look good, I'm in. Although my current 7 photos are less than exciting, a trip to the mountains is about to revolutionize my scarce Instagramming world. Get ready.

Oh, how inspired I am by those who are bold, write and communicate well, and speak the truth!

Here's your reading for the day: In the Basement

We sang this song at church on Sunday, and it's been playing on repeat in my head ever since. What a beautiful and dangerous prayer.


*******


Let Your Kingdom Come

Give us a love for peace
Move us to brokenness
Our generosity,
Release from poverty

Your Kingdom here and now
To the least of these
Distribute what we have
That all may taste and see

Let Your Kingdom come
Let Your will be done
All the Earth will say
and echo angels' praise
That You are God

So, let the sick run free
The orphan find her home
The captured man will know
Release from slavery

Your Kingdom here and now
To the least of these
Distribute what we have
That all may taste and see

We pray and ask for hope
We pray and ask for peace
We pray and ask for justice
We pray and ask for You

Let Your Kingdom come
Let Your will be done
All the Earth will say
and echo angels' praise
that You are God

I'll end the trip saga with HOPE, as it seemed to keep popping up here and there throughout the trip. There was the time spent talking to the trafficked children, asking them about their work, who they lived with, and whether or not they'd rather return to their parents and go to school. Each of the 17 we spoke with said YES to the later without the slightest hesitation. We are doing everything we can to make that a reality for them very, very soon and can't wait for that day. As difficult as some of that conversation was to hear, I walked away with an underlying presence of hope for each and every child – not only in Adovepke, but also on Lake Volta as a whole. We ended our week with some time spent at Challenging Heights, the shelter we will partner with for rehabilitation, counseling, and basic schooling for the rescued children. Their facility is fantastic – two stories for classrooms and bunk rooms, a sports field, kitchen and dining area, and an open covered space for playing.

Because of many generous people, we were able to take 12 large bins full of children's books, school supplies, sports equipment, and art supplies. As we unveiled all the goodies and spent the next two days with the 44 children there, we were welcomed with smiles from ear-to-ear, hugs, and shouts of exclamation in singing, playing futbol, reading, writing, and coloring. It was a perfect contrast and ending to our week. Childhoods have been restored.

We are often asked if we can truly tell a difference in the children here and the children on the lake – "aren't they all still living in poverty?" Hope is the difference. The rescued children radiate joy and dream for the future; they are anxious to reunite with families and have a chance to enjoy being children again. Seeing their faces light up at the smallest piece of sidewalk chalk or the airing up of a futbol filled my heart with so much hope. Hope for their futures, for the futures of the children in our first rescue group, and for each child still working on Lake Volta.

It takes so little from us to give hope, to affirm, to speak truth, to restore confidence and life in others. 

But it makes all the difference.

(Note: Lots o' text, few photos. If that's not appealing, dear reader, feel free to skip ahead. Also, I stole these photos from fellow trip-mates as my 3+ cameras were stuffed in a dry bag. I failed on the documentation here, but escaped with my life; good swap?!)

***********

Here's a new one for you: ASTRAPHOBIA, the fear of lightning. Actually, it was new for me too; I had to look it up. Truth be told, I love a good storm. I love rain. I love running in the rain or curling up with a good book and coffee when it's raining. I love the smell of rain and the atmosphere it creates. But I've a new found healthy respect fear of lightning after this last excursion to Ghana.

After installing the fish cages, we hurried to leave Adovepke as it began to grow dark with a storm on the horizon. Now there are storms and there are storms. And we were headed directly into the later to get back to Yeji for the night. But what's a little rain, right? Everyone wrapped up in various jackets and tribal garments from the Makongo party as the sun set. Quite beautiful, actually.

But about an hour into the boat ride, we started raising question of the lightning that now surrounded us on three sides. Soon after that, we noticed that our hair was literally starting to stand up on end, even though most of us were fairly drenched. Picture rubbing a balloon on your head, minus the balloon. Or those freaky electricity orbs at a science museum. You get the idea.

"Can you tell when you are about to be struck by lightning? There is often a warning: a feeling similar to what happens when you touch a static electricity generator, or when you take the clothes out of the dryer and separate a staticky sock from a towel. People about to be hit can feel the hair on their bodies stand on end and sometimes report a tingling sensation. If you are in a storm and feel this, act immediately. This is all the warning you are going to get. If there are no closed shelters or low spots nearby, your only other option is to ride it out and hope for the best. Although nothing has proven to reduce the risk of being struck by lightning while outside, the crouch method is believed to lower your chances. If you are with a group of people, crouch 20 feet apart to decrease the risk of multiple people being struck. Get as low as you can to the ground. Don't do anything that will make you a more attractive target for the lightning." (compiled from here and here; there's also mention of the need to get away from water, but we'll hold off on the statistics of that one for now!)

"Ride it out and hope for the best." Seriously?!

Anyway, we all hunkered down in the bottom of the boat, careful to hold our feet out of the water, and began praying.

It seems silly now to call it "death defying", but I can tell you that every single one of us was uncertain what the outcome would be. (Optimistic Jeremy even quipped, "Well, we all have to die sometime, right?!") After what seemed like hours, Chris noticed a shoreline close by and, much to the boat driver's discontent (we might get off course), we headed that way, bailed out of the boat, and ran up on the beach like we'd been shipwrecked. The next few hours included a whole lot of rain, thunder, more lightning, a sheltered hut in a nearby village, the kindness of strangers, two small fires to keep us warm, and grateful worship time as we waited out the storm.

***********

[Side story: One of the most epic quotes of the trip came out of this time at what we deemed Fire Village. I'm hoping it wasn't a "you had to be there" thing, but I'm telling it anyway... Fred started gathering a few pieces of wood and placing stones for a small fire ring. Enter K., our youngest crew member and eternal ball of energy and humor...

K: Did you bring any matches?
Fred: No. This is Africa. I will find a way.

(K. did produce newspaper comics to help the process as well as a polar fleece blanket Mary-Poppins-like out of his backpack... and asked if we could stay the night!)]

***********

As the lightning and rain slowed up, we made a run for the boat to find it was surrounded by muddy sinkholes (some waist deep) and suctioned to the mud – not budging. If I only had video of this... We lined either side of the boat and rocked it side to side until we were able to push it forward, all jumping in at the last minute as it slid into deeper water. And after yet another locational detour, we arrived in Yeji 15 hours after we set out that morning.

I can't think of another situation in my life in which I felt the way I did in the bottom of that boat. It was a time of reality and perspective. It was a time of uncertainty and yet somehow, peace. It was a time of petitioning God to see our group safely through the storm to continue our work. And it was a time of deep gratitude when He saw fit to allow it to be so.


Peace, be still.

Next up: ANTICIPATION. The primary goal of this trip was to implement our first aquaculture project at Adovepke. The tools and equipment had been purchased, hours of research done, fish food picked up, and the fingerlings en route – all the puzzle pieces started fitting together. Monday was the day to get the cages in the water, and our last day out on the lake. I was pretty anxious about everything coming together and getting done in time before we had to leave, but God was so faithful in His timing. We arrived back at Adovepke after leaving the Makongo masses and split into 3 teams. Some of the girls went to hang out and play with the village kids, Chris/Fred/I continued interviewing trafficked kids, and the rest of the crew finished out the fish cages along with the fishermen. Here's the finished product:

Josh spent time teaching the fisherman the process of feeding the fish as well.

Our friend King arrived with the fingerlings, and it was suddenly "go time". We had to get the baby fish in the water as soon as possible so quickly loaded the nets and anchors up on a boat and scoped out the right depth for anchoring the cages. (For the record, I use the term "we" loosely here; I'm the one in red below that looks like a "many, many photo" tourist with two video cameras and my Nikon. Yes, I used them all...)

Chris and Josh jumped in the water to get things set up, and before we knew it, the cages were in place and ready for the fish. 

It was a very surreal moment. For so long, we've been working towards this time, taking risks and dreaming big, praying for a solution that would help bring freedom to the kids. As I burned through photo after photo of the moment, I looked up to see one of the trafficked boys we had just interviewed watching everything take place. He didn't know it at the time, but one day he'll make the connection and realize that those fish cages and the partnership they represent brought him new life and the chance at a future. Looking back to shore, the entire village had come out to watch as well, along with all the other trafficked kids that we now call by name. There wasn't much time to process the moment then, but it was so rich and profound. The anticipation of that afternoon was met with so much joy and affirmation of what God is doing in this place.

What a journey! I honestly try to come up with unique ways to share about trips to Ghana as I'm sure they all run together for those who read along here. But for me, each trip really has been a completely new experience; the food, travel, bucket showers... those all become old hat, but the people and places are ever changing and providing new insight. While I didn't journal as much as usual this trip (shocking, I know) due to the busyness and time spent with the group, there are certainly some events worth recounting. This trip was honestly groundbreaking in so many ways for us at Mercy Project. All that said, a few words to describe trip #5 (Type A, much?!):


First, ADVENTURE. Traveling to Ghana is always an adventure, but this time I feel like it was even more eventful than we bargained for! (Perhaps the 2-hr plane delay in DC should've been the first indication.) We seriously had the best group on this trip; everyone was laid-back, flexible, and so positive. Our crew of 18 arrived in Ghana on Friday and drove to Kumasi for the evening. Saturday was spent finishing out the drive to Yeji. Driving in Ghana is quite... nerve-wracking? scary? suicidal? Let's suffice to say we were glad to arrive and start our time out on the lake.

The countryside is oh-so-beautiful though. Here's a glimpse: (I had fits getting the video to upload, so just trust that it's a lot better quality than it appears! You can also click on the images for a larger look.) 

We spent time in Adovepke, allowing our group to experience village life and our Ghanaian friends time to adjust to having 17 O'bruni's traipsing through their space. Work on the fish cages began, and Chris and I started interviewing trafficked children with Fred's help.

We visited Makongo, where our group got to see the land we bought for the missionary/guest house... and Chris bought a cow. That's right. And not just any cow, but the scrawniest, most pathetic bovine you've ever seen.

The next morning, we returned to join a tribal celebration inducting Chris as an official Sub-Chief of Makongo. If that's not legit adventure, I don't know what is. I should also mention here that the ceremony included the slaughter of aforementioned cow (6" dagger, Ghost-in-the-Darkness-style), tribal dress, the Makongo village warrior shooting a rifle (and wearing baseball cleats), and lots of drumming and dancing. Those people know how to throw a party!

The drummers and many, many children led us parade-style down to the boat while the villagers lined the streets to get a view of the new Sub-Chief. And the children ran around carrying chunks of meat from the slaughtered cow. All before 11am. Adventure.

Last night I crawled in between clean sheets to sleep. And woke up promptly at 4:30am, wide awake. I then proceeded to eat cookies for breakfast just because I could. Welcome home! Sometimes adjusting back isn't a big deal. There's always much to catch up on and the typical retelling of stories over and over and the mounds of picture editing, but that all just happens as it happens; I'm learning to be ok with it. Emphasis on the "learning".

But sometimes adjusting back is just hard. There's the overwhelming task of grocery shopping after coming off a week of solid chicken and rice. Why, oh why, are there so many different kinds of cereal?! There's the continued lack of reconciliation with living in such a blessed culture and seeing a week of "without". But there's also this constant wrestling of failing to communicate experiences to others. I seem to set myself up for this one: I want to tell about things that happened and expect for others to "get it", but it falls flat.

I want to be able to convey the overwhelming joy when we dropped the first fish cages in the water and added the fingerlings while the trafficked children looked on. I want to explain the utter fear and peace as we crouched in the bottom of the boat and prayed for safety in the middle of a lightning storm. I want to paint a picture of what it was like to interview 17 trafficked children, to hear every one of them say they want to go to school instead of work. And I want to hear a response of "yes, I understand why you do what you do". But it doesn't ever come how I wish for it to.

It occurred to me tonight that I'm looking in all the wrong places. I think one reason God grants us unexplainable experiences is so that we'll be drawn to him in a way that no one else can come close to. I can tell stories and share feelings all day long, but God's the only one who will truly "get it" every single time since He granted it to begin with. What a cool thing that can be when I stop looking to other people to fill me up in ways that they cannot. Tonight, God is filling me up in some incredible ways and drawing me close. Oh that I would simply rest in that!

More to come...