Remembering Bangui

Almost one year ago I travelled to Central African Republic on a mission trip. For the first time since then, I just read through my journal from that time. I thought I would share part of my final entry... (it is kind of rambling, but remember I was SOOO tired at this point.)

In 4 hours we will land in the U.S. I sit here and think about my visit to Christopher's (the little boy whom I sponsor) home earlier in the day. Christopher's mom, like most African women I met is quite soft spoken and not a person of many words. Or maybe that is just how they are around us. Through Barb I asked her several questions. I learned that her husband died about a year after her daughter was born from illness. Perhaps AIDS, or some other disease. It was around that time that she became a believer and started attending a Grace Brethren Church. I told her how happy I was to be able to help her family, especially Christopher. I told her that I promised to pray for them after I returned home. Then my heart was totally broken. She told me that she wanted me to give her greetings to my family when I got home and that she would be praying for us. I think in my soul I believed that we have everything and these people have nothing. We are the givers and they are the receivers. In that moment and as I write this on the airplane over the Atlantic Ocean, I know how wrong that thinking is. We all are the same. God created all of us and called us to be His kids. We were born in different places with different resources, but there really is little difference. We are blessed with certain resources in order to bless others! That does not make our way of life any better. I'm not even sure it makes it easier. Yeah, we are comfortable and physically we don't work as hard, but I think other things like relationships and community are easier for them. Maybe we are all supposed to learn certain things from each other. I know I learned so many things this week. I am desperately trying to write so many things down because I don't want to forget. And I want to share them with people.

The heat was extremely difficult, as was camping. The emotional part was definitely the hardest. Erica had shared her stories from her 1st trip and I could see her heart change. But until I spent a week in Bangui, I really didn't get it at all.

As I am getting closer to home, I am thinking about Christopher and his mom in their little mud house. I think about the amazing missionaries like Barb and Tim and Ginger and Heidi. I think about what has been accomplished in LaDoumie because our church sends $4000 a year to run a hand-in-hand school. I think about those widows and orphans joyfully going forward at worship each Sunday to put their coins in the offering. I think about orphans at the center squatting around a bowl of rice, eating with their hands.

So many images are in my head, but mostly I stare out the window. I am returning to a world that hasn't changed in the 11 days I was gone. But I have. I just need to examine and understand those changes and answer the question, "Now what?"

I learned once that every gift of love and grace from God demands a response. This trip was truly a gift to my life. My prayer at this precise moment is that God will show me what comes next.

The Sunday before we left, the praise team at church sang Chris Tomlin's God of this City. I had tears on my face that day as I thought ahead to my week in Bangui. Today at the airport in Paris, that song came up on my ipod. The tears came again-unstoppable. I can now believe and KNOW with every bit of my heart that God is God of Bangui and Pickerington and every other city on this earth.

I have pages and pages of entries from those days in Africa and they really bring back so many sounds and sights and memories. But I am a bit sad to think that I sometimes go days with out praying for Christopher. Sometimes I don't even think about that trip much. And most importantly, am I living my life any differently one year later because of what I experienced?