To my Favourite

Today is your first day of Grade One.
I've been praying for you all day.

New school year
New classroom
New friends
New play ground for recess - You've graduated into the 'big kids' section of the school
And a new language- So proud of you for doing school in a second language. It will be good for you!



Today is the first day of term 3 for many kids here too! Although, the recognized first day was yesterday, many students didn't start until today.


The days leading up to the first day back to school aren't too different here than they are where you are. Gathering supplies: pens, pencils, notebooks, calculators, protractors, rubbers, etc. Getting uniforms sorted: shoes, trousers, shirts, sweaters- all in the school colours of light blue and black. You don't have a uniform but you know about getting new outfits for school. Some kids will be excited, others dreading. Some kids will have the supplies they need, others will not.

There aren't any shops around here tho. Certainly not any Wal-Marts touting 'back to school' sales on backpacks and pencils and pens and crayons and paper and notepads and miscellaneous supplies and clothes and recess treats and tupperware and toys and whatever other sales they might happen to have around this time. Instead, many kids just make do. Or they might find a couple notebooks up at the market. Some parents will go into Zambezi to get some of the supplies they need. And ALL of the kids know how to share. No matter how many kids use the same pen, they all know who it belongs to.

I've had a few visits myself this past week from some of my young school age friends asking for supplies and, thanks to a teacher friend from Toronto, I've been able to give freely.

I don't want to make it sound overboard here. The students here will mostly have all the supplies they need. I do want you to understand my dear, how different and yet how similar it is here. People are people wherever you go; all with the same needs and wants and desires and hopes and dreams. Don't ever forget that! We may look different and we may have different backgrounds and experiences and aspirations in life, but at the core of every human beats the same heart.



I thought of you this evening when three adorable boys showed up at my door with their 'father' ... in our culture he was an uncle, the younger brother to their father. Chilemu was 10, Luka 6, and the baby, Philip, was 2. They wanted to buy new clothes. Their currency: a live chicken.


I wanted to thank you for the clothes you let your mom send in the last container. A shirt and trousers of yours - even tho they said 4T, were a perfect fit for Luka. And shorts and a tee- shirt from your younger brother provided an outfit for wee Philip. I had two shirts from a container box, a bit big, but, as uncle pointed out, Chilemu is growing. I had to smile at that, how often has your mother picked out clothes for you and your brother on the assumption that you would 'grow into it.'

You sent a box full of matchbox trucks and cars. Well... maybe you didn't realize they were being sent... ??? This is one BIG difference that I can write about freely, without fearing that I am being judgmental or uninformed. Most kids here- the majority of kids here- do not have a 'toy' to play with. The average girl in this area where I am living have no dolls as we know them- they play with babies or make dolls from roots, or sugar cane stalks or corn husks. The average boy will have no motorcars unless, somehow he gets his hands on an empty and unclaimed jug and then he or an older brother or uncle or father will cut holes and use sticks for the axle, and rounded pieces of wood for the wheels and that will be his motorcar attached to a long stick that he can use to push this motorcar along as he walks.

The kids here are genius a 'using their imagination'. Sticks and stones make great toys. Plastic bags and rubber bands make footballs. Trees are for climbing- as high as one can go!

Very different from the plethora of dolls my sisters and I had growing up and the mountains of motorcars that you and your brother have!

Many days in hospital, children or parents will come asking for a kadolly or a motorcar, or 'chuma chahemesha': a thing to play with. Sometimes we are able to give. Sometimes we are not. For many different reasons...

But I wanted to thank you for sharing your toys. I wanted to remind you that God loves a cheerful giver. I wanted to tell you that the toys you shared are finding their ways to homes of little boys and girls who are thrilled to have them.

The wee boys at my door this evening were glad of the new clothes. But all three lit up when they saw the toy trucks. And on my part, its nice to be able to give something that is not necessary to doing life, but is a very real 'want' around here.



I hope you have had a great day at school. I hope the new language isn't too difficult. I hope you find your friends again and make new ones. I hope the toys in your class room and the arts and crafts projects are all fun. I hope today and every day you are reminded of the blessings God is pouring out on us. On you! He daily loads us with blessings! Even you, at your wee age He is loading with blessings! Thanks very much for sharing some of His blessings with us here!

love you lots!
Aunt Tia



ps... any ideas of what to do with this chicken locked in my porch????

Grace enough

The alarm rings snatching me from sleep. All I can think about is the haze of exhaustion that envelopes me. By the time the third alarm sounds 45 mins later I have wakened sufficiently to push back the covers, and stumble out of bed. Another broken night of calls up to the hospital stretches my reserve just a little bit thinner.

At the door I stop for a quick check- phone, keys, pen, notebook, water, granola bar. The alarm rings again. 705. My feet carry me up to hospital mindlessly.

My day starts in the kitchen: point of contact.

In proverbs of says of the ideal woman: the heart of her husband trusts her. Well, I think it can also read, the heart of her overseer safely trusts her.

That's Lucy. Lucy runs the hospital feeding program. Lucy is trustworthy. Together we sort out breakfast for the patients, relish for the noon nshima, what children are needing milk, who is coming for a daily egg, daily supplies to run the kitchen: oil, matches, charcoal, washing powder, washing soap... I know what I put out she will use for the patients. I know she will gather the moms of our malnourished kids around her and teach them what and when and how to feed their sick babies. I know because of her diligence we will see miracles.

And I remember why I am here. To be part of making a difference in lives here in rural Africa. 

After kitchen is ward rounds. As a team we go around to each patient in the hospital and  review their case and their current condition. Are we helping? Have we missed something? Some days it's long, some days I struggle to keep on task instead thinking and planning all the things I could and should be doing: language lessons, Bible study, visiting this one and that one, cleaning the termite hills that keep popping up around my house, even just washing the dishes...

But an interesting case story often brings me back to reality. 

You see this child: two months ago she was on her death bed. Stick thin and so weak with a swollen bloated abdomen. Barely able to draw a breath. Mom spoon fed her milk mixed with her medicine while we struggled to keep a functioning cannula dripping fluid into her tiny dried out veins. Today she wanders out of the kids' ward with her chubby little sisters to greet me in the corridor. Still stick thin, still huge belly. But, still alive. A huge smile rests on her face. I can't believe she is still here! And, after two months of being away, I can't believe she still remembers me!

You see this lady: because of a tumour her jaw extended to her chest. It was most pitiful to see her. Chitengi draped over her head, her arm lifted to use the chitengi as a shield to hide her deformed face and her shame. Kukata. It hurts. We started chemotherapy just before I left. Two months later, I've sat down to give her round number four of chemo. The face I smile into today is as beautiful as it was deformed nearly three months ago. I can't hardly remember what she looked like before I left. Now she is simply lovely!

You see this man: he died four months ago but he's still here today. He came to Chitokoloki a few months after I first did. 22 years old, he was in a road traffic accident and fractured his T12L4, effectively paralyzing him from the waist down. He's lived with us ever since. Surgery for an abscess in the abdomen nearly finished him off. When we reversed him after the procedure, he didn't wake up. We arranged shifts to watch him over night in theatre, keeping him on the ventilator to breathe for him. Twelve hours later we managed to extubate him and shortly after that he was awake enough to be chatting with his family

You see this baby: her mom died and her father's sister, nursing a five month old child of her own, took on the care and feeding of this fragile premature half orphaned child. How much excitement there was the day baby girl Gracious finally weighed in at 2.0 kg and auntie turned mummy could take her two babies home.

We are seeing miracles here. 

But you see this woman: through all of this she is being changed. I think this is the biggest miracle of all. Our Father, in his loving grace, reaches down not only to heal the sick but to change the heart. My heart. Your heart. 

This isn't about me. This is about Him. This is about His grace. This is about simply being a channel to let that grace flow to the hurting, the needy, the destitute, the outcast. In short: us. 

We need His grace. I need it as much as the patients whose broken bodies I tend. My body may be whole at this time, but my broken soul is in desperate and constant need of His forgiving grace. 

This is the greatest miracle of all: that my sin can be forgiven; my brokenness can be made whole; my selfishness and self centredness can be made unselfish and God centred. That God can be willing to use me to channel His grace to a hurting broken world.

It's evening now, the rain patters the tin roof, the thunder rumbles, sometimes crashes overhead. I am exhausted from the events of the day. The sick, the children and the grandparents, the needs and the requests, the constant interaction with people. I'm praying the phone doesn't ring tonight needing a team for an emergency surgery. But knowing if it does, or if I wake to the alarm tomorro morning: His grace, the same grace I'm learning to channel out to the people around, that grace is still the same and its still enough.

My grace is sufficient for you. My strength is made perfect in your weakness

I'm back

I'm back


Back in the chitengi
Back in the hotness
Back into the Lunda


Just back


And it's good.
Sure, I was anxious about going. Chatting with some of the more experienced folks here, I see it doesn't really get easier. I'll just get more experienced at how to handle the anxiety and the grief and the displacement.
 I'm glad to be back here now.
Glad to see so many people that have become dear to me- fellow missionaries, and Zambians alike. So many dear, dear people.

But being back here reminds me of all the dear ones I left at home.

I am so blessed to know so many amazing and genuinely sweet people!


But from a random place today came words of encouragement (and it was random! It can't get more random than FB quiz eh?!?)

Have I know commanded you? 

Be strong and courageous. 

Do not be afraid, do not be discouraged, 

for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.

Joshua 1:9

This was my verse that I came out here on.

Sure it's a fluke. But at the same time, it's also a real reminder: I'm here because of God. I don't need to be afraid- afraid of people, of situations, of not accomplishing what God wants me to do. And I don't need to be discourage; because friends, discouragement here is a real thing. Maybe no more real than at home, but it is for me. So many limitations, so many failures, so many areas to reach out into and no way to get to them


But I was learning today:

"Take, as from my Father's hand"


Everything comes from my Father.
Sorrow and suffering
Difficult situations and people
Blessing and abundance
Peace and joy

So whatever my day and this year holds, He has allowed it.

I will trust Him
I will rejoice
I will be strong and courageous
I will not be afraid or discouraged
I know HE is with me ..... And that makes all the difference




And so, I'm back

Have been cleaning the house after finding ant hills in three different places
Sorting out the aftermath of a mouse who took up (I hope) termporary residence
Sorting out some food parcels that came
And mostly just settling back into life here

Glad I haven't forgotten too much of my Lunda
Hoping to find some help with language studies

And looking forward to going back to hospital on Wednesday

Redemption Ground

There was a time I thought divorce was not an option for Christians.

Then, as I looked at my parents marriage crumble, I realized divorce was the only option for a situation that had become toxic.

Then I thought, but after divorce comes singleness and God Himself will be there. And He was. But I saw how lonely my mom was. She filled her time, no, she redeemed her time. She brought it to God and used it for Him.

Now, today, I'm standing beside my mom at an event I never thought would happen. For the last ten years I've prayed, Lord if it's your will let her marry, but if not, I know you will be to her what she needs...

And then my brother died.

You see, as the first born, it's always weighed on me that I am responsible to care for the family. Maybe I presume too much...??

When my brother died, I thought: "at least she had a companion, now she is alone." But my sister reminded she was there and I left.

And then I started hearing about Steve. And soon they were a 'thing' and then they were engaged and now they are married (or just about 😜)

And through this journey, I've learned two lessons. Or rather, I've had to relearn two lessons that I ought to have learned years ago.

The first, God doesn't need me!

What a relief! I am not responsible to run the world. I am not responsible to make sure every T gets crossed and every I dotted. I am not responsible to see to the needs of the people around me. God may use me. But that's His choice, not my responsibility.

What freedom is this!

When I worried about a best friend being left on her own, God brought an unlikely suitor, and they are perfectly matched

When I worried about a Sunday school with no teacher or a teen night with no facilitator, in His own time, God brought people along to fill those needs- and to fill the, better than I ever could have! - Isn't He so wonderful!!

When I worried about my mom being left alone by herself, God brought a man along who sees in her all the things and more that I have come to appreciate.

So, who am I to think that God needs me in a particular location to do a particular job. God, forgive my pride!

The second lesson, has nothing to do with me and everything to do with my Father. Can I just tell you again how amazing He is.

He is in the business of redemption.

He offers to the sinner, redemption through His blood, even the forgiveness of sins. And to the born again believer, that is the very start of life. That is the crux of this life. That is everything. Christ died for me the sinner. And in believing this, not just my soul but my very existence is redeemed.

My existence is redeemed.

He continually comes behind me and redeems me. He continually takes my choices and makes them beautiful. (Even the choices that I make willfully for my interests, even these He can redeem if I let Him.) He continually teaches me how to be more like Him and thereby makes me more myself, releasing me from the passions of the flesh and the besetting sins. He redeems not just my soul, but my very life. Everything that I am and do is now seen through the light of God's grace, it is redeemed from empty, meaningless activity to purposeful acts of service in obedience to my Lord and Saviour.

I am witness today, my Father took a painful, broken mess and redeemed it and made it beautiful. Because the beauty in the act of two lives promising to love each other through good and bad and through all the mess of life is really just a picture of how Christ loves His chosen ones, His bride.

I'm standing here today to watch my mom and Steve get married, but really what I see is how Christ has entered into my brokenness and made it beautiful, how He has forgiven all my sins and redeemed me and then promised that for all of eternity He would love me and care for me. And really, it doesn't get much better than that!

And of His fullness we have all received, grace upon grace

Grace upon grace

abounding, overflowing, running over

So much that we come away from the fountain dripping with grace, 

perfumed with grace

the empty cisterns of our heart filled and running over

the dry and barren land soaked in a deluge of grace

More than enough

I know the dryness, the barrenness, the emptiness. I know it too well.

Too often I exchange the fullness of God and His grace for the emptiness of my self.

Too often I seek first the things of self instead of the things of God and His righteousness.

But this verse reminds us that God is full. Of His fullness: out of His fullness, out of His sufficiency, out of His 'enough' He pours out on us grace.

Grace enough

My grace is enough for you.

it reminds me of one of my favourite verses in Psalms

"Oh, how abundant is your goodness, which you have stored up for those who fear you!"

Its like the writer couldn't contain himself as he began to express all the marvellous things his God had poured out on him.

How abundant. How full.

of His fullness we have all received grace upon grace

blessing upon blessing

we have times of barrenness

He does not

But even in our barrenness

His blessing abounds

more and more

will we come away from His fountain then dripping with grace? We need it this year. I need it this year. That constant reminder that His 'enough' is enough for me. His strength, not mine. His interests first, not mine. Him first, not me.

and even over the times of barrenness and drought I can still look back and say Christ is here. I saw His grace here. Not because of me, because of Him.

Happy New Year

and God's richest blessings to each of you

So some days I pray and some days I curse

A sad number of days I put myself first

But it's not what I do, the cross made that plain

And one day Jesus will call my name

I've been up since 0400hrs

I'm tired. I'm done with this hospital, these patients, these people coming coming coming. Unending questions and ques. All last week was surgery all day everyday until 1800hrs. This week hasn't been much different- just the surgery is different: emergencies instead of planned procedures.


It's a never ending barrage of people- staff, patients, colleagues coming with questions, requests, complaints. And I wish I could say that I handle them graciously.

When my Lord looked upon the multitude 'he had compassion upon them'. Today, and sadly most days, I'm thinking 'why are you all coming here?' 'Can't you go to another hospital?' 'I just want some time to myself.' 'I'm tired of all this and all of you with the same problems all the time.' 'I want one day where everything that was planned goes according to plan- no surprises and especially no hospital emergencies.' 'Is it too much to ask for a nap?!?'


Despite all these complaints, I don't really hate it here- tho it likely sounds like it. In fact, I do love it! Most days. But today self and self pity have grabbed hold of my hands and are holding tight making it nearly impossible to reach out and grasp the hand of grace outstretched beside me. Cursing is coming far too easily today from this tongue that is supposed to have been purged and prepared to only speak words of grace and blessing 

I lay down finally to have a nap. Just 15 mins, please! I had hoped to go to Bible study today but not thinking I'll get there. Just lain down when my phone rings. Yes, the others have been in theatre and could I stay with the patient so they can go get lunch. Of course!

The patient is dreadfully sick. Another lady has been watched closely for delivery and has delivered well. But another is struggling still and will need some one on one from our midwife. My nap plans are gone. So too, are my plans for bible study. And besides the clinic line is horrendous!

1400...
1500...
1600...

1700... Finally a wee lull. The clinic line is still scary. Our second lady has been brought down to theatre with the tentative plan of a possible section. But I've finished most of the piddly ward stuff. Just a wee blood test but I have to find strips. So I wander off to one of the missionaries' homes who has a similar machine in the hopes of finding strips for our machine.

1800...
1900...
And finally I can go home. But this baby is still not delivered. Mom is struggling. Midwife is certain will need a section. (Doctor a bit skeptical tho). Baby is high up and not dropping. So with the threat of a pending abortion, I and a visitor make our way homeward. Our parting wards: we need to pray that we get this baby in the next half hour.



Thirty five minutes later- we have a baby girl. Wow!


It's not what I do, the cross made that plain.


This has been a day filled with grumbling and complaining. And yet God still chose to answer our prayers. I'm more than a little awed here. This is unmerited Grace. This is the same grace the led the holy, perfect, righteous Son of God to hang a broken and bleeding man on a Roman cross for a broken, bleeding soul that was doomed. This is Amazing Grace. This is Relentless Love. This is Undeserved Mercy.

The older I get, the more I realize how right God is in pointing out my brokenness and my flaws and
yes my sin. And the more I realize I can never reach the standard of goodness and righteousness that
is God. Oh! But day by day I'm learning more and more- 'it's not what I do, the cross made that plain.
It's what he's done. It's his grace and mercy and love that has made the difference in my life.


I'm crawling into bed tonight so thankful that I'm not being called up for a section in twenty minutes. But more than that, I've been reminded yet again, while we 'do not know what a day will bring forth' there is one Who does and he 'gives unto each day what he deems best, lovingly it's part of pain and pleasure mingling sorrow with peace and rest'. His is the hand of outstretched grace. Amazing Grace.
Grace that doesn't overlook, but sees and knows and understands and forgives.



I will lie down in peace and sleep, for you alone oh Lord make me dwell in safety.
He gives to his beloved rest

So blessed

Sixteen and pregnant
Fifteen and pregnant
Fourteen and pregnant


Ah, dear girl, 'wuchidi kansi ho'. - you are still young only

Have you gone to school?
Yes

What grade?
Grade 7, grade 8, grade 10, grade 4

Wuna kushakama ku ulo? Are you sitting in a marriage?
No...

Where is the one who gave you the pregnancy?
On the village...


"You are too young!" My heart cries; but my tongue has no words...

And if I did, would you listen little girl?

Me- I am just the chindele kufuma kuputu- the white person from a far away country. What do I know of your culture, your way of life, the expectations you face?

I know that's what you're thinking, I can see it in your face, hear it in your laugh. Not always, but often enough that I know what it means...

Your mother stands beside you as I announce- you are six months, you are three months, you are eight months.

This is your first delivery, please come to the hospital to deliver

Your last pregnancy ended in an abortion, please come to the hospital to deliver

You are having your second baby, but you are only 17, please come to the hospital to deliver

I see that look of pride from mom- "my daughter is having a baby" and babies are so exciting! Even me, I know that. But that look of pride has more cultural significance- my daughter will give her husband lots of children, my daughter has value because she can reproduce.

And then I see that roll of the eyes and the little smirk, not always, but often enough that I know what it means.... How inconvenient to be told to come to the hospital when you have grown up seeing babies delivered on your village, even in your own home



Little girl, I wish I had the words... Babies are awesome. But in their time. I wish I could teach you to respect your body, to say 'no', that you are more important than your ability to reproduce, that education is so important for yourself and for the children that you will and can have- at the right time. And most of all, that you can make a difference in your village, in the lives of the little people growing up around you. You can bring education and development and change - good change.


But it's not only the girl. Where are these boys- or worse men- who are giving these girls pregnancies? Some of these girls are cheeky- you will find that in every culture and nation under the sun. But many are not- many are following cultural expectations, or worse, don't know any better. But it's the girls I get in the clinic line, the girls coming from antenatal clinic with a note asking for gestational age, it's the girls on the bed that I am scanning. The boy- or man- is not there. So it's the girls who hear:

But you're only 16,17,18
You're still in school
You're not married

I don't have any more words that I can say. Just to watch, helpless, as another child gets ready to give birth to a child...













Helpless? Did I say that? We are not helpless.
This is something that burns in my heart every time I scan a young mother for gestational age. But I am learning, we stand in the strength of our God and Father, praying, hoping, trying, working. But most of all, trusting. He is the one who saves souls, He is the one who changes lives. Us here- we are His hands and heart to a broken, messy world. Not to make the difference, simply to trust Him to make the difference. I work on learning the language, on getting out into the villages to build relationships, on health education with the girls (and guys) that come under my influence, and most of all, on sharing Christ, sharing His love. I don't have any answers, but this is what I can do