The Story of Baby Joseph

This is Gogo and Khulu:



Gogo and Khulu are the Ndebele words for Grandma and Grandpa. From the first time I stepped onto their humble homestead in the village and they smiled at me with their toothless smiles, they were my family. I don't even know their first names. They told me to call them Gogo and Khulu, and that is what they are to me.

I have many fond memories of my African grandparents. The very first day I met them I helped them chase a herd of runaway goats back into their pen. I am pretty sure that watching this kiwa (whitey) clumsily chase around a bunch of wild goats was the funniest thing they had ever seen. They laughed themselves silly.

Out of the many memories I have from my visits with them there is one day that stands out in my mind ahead of all the others.

It is the day that I entered their home to find this woman, with this baby on her back, with his big black eyes staring straight through my heart.



His name was Joseph.

Tecla, Gogo, and Joseph's mom began to speak rapidly in Ndebele. After what seemed to be a serious conversation, Tecla filled me in on their story.

Joseph's mom lives deep in the bush with her 8 children. Her husband abadons her for months at a time, and will come home only long enough for her to concieve another child. He always leaves again, and each time he is gone for a longer amount of time, always leaving the family with nothing. Joseph's mother said they had been living off of weeds until a few days earlier, when Gogo gave her a job. Gogo had no money, but she did have maize and goats milk, so that is what she gave in exchange for housework.

Then she handed me Joseph. I unwrapped his blanket, and Tecla and I exchanged a glance of shock and sadness. His little bones protuded from his chest. His neck was thin and weak, and his little head wobbled like that of a newborn.

The conversation continued in Ndebele, and as I held Joseph and we gazed into eachother's eyes. As I whispered little prayers over him and told him how precious he was, he reached up and placed his hand on my cheek.

And then I fell in love.

Tecla then turned to me to fill me in on the rest of the story. When Joseph's mother found out she was pregnant, again, she knew she could not provide for another. With shame she admitted that she made several attempts to terminate Joseph's life before he was even born. She was astonished that he had survived.

She was also astonished that he had survived over three months time since he was born. The mother had been breastfeeding baby Joseph, but all she was able to produce was a watery and often times bloody liquid. Being malnourished herself, she was unable to provide Joseph with the nutrients he needed, leaving him in the state he was in.

I knew from the moment our eyes met that there was something special about Joseph, and as his story unfolded, I knew that God had big plans for this little boy's life.

Because Gogo and Khulu are good and loving people, they agreed to continue to employ Joseph's mom so their family would have a steady supply of food. Tecla and I went to the market and returned with peanut butter for the family who hadn't recieved any real protein for months.

I prayed over Joseph before I left, and I continue to do so from a distance. He is one of those children that I wanted to take home with me more than anything, but yet I know that God has big and wonderful plans for his life, and God has placed him exactly where he needs to be. God has also placed loving people in his life, like Gogo and Khulu, to help along the way.

I was able to visit with Joseph just days before I unexpectedly left Zimbabwe.



It was only about 6 weeks after that day I had fallen in love with him. He looked healthier, was holding up his head, and even smiled at moments.

Joseph is a big name to live up to. It means "Jehovah will increase and enlarge." We see the big ways God uses and enlarges the Josephs in the Bible, and I have no doubt that He can use baby Joseph in such great ways.

I Like Your Face

To all you makeup wearing ladies (whom I will never be one of)...

My amazing friend April is hosting a Mary Kay fundraising event for me.

The excellent news is that it is an online party, so anyone can participate! Woohoo!

All of my travel expenses for my upcoming trip have been met, so 25% of all orders placed through www.marykay.com/aprilkatherman before November 12, 2010, will go directly towards clothing, medical needs, education fees, and food for the kiddos in Zimbabwe. Please note my name (Rebecca Allen) in the comment box at checkout. And thanks to my awesome hostess, all orders will be delivered to you directly with free shipping anywhere in the United States.

And, I must say, that there are lots of great products, even if you (like me) are of the anti-makeup wearing kind. Oh, and because I am trying to weasle you out of your money for the sake of the kids, I would suggest looking over the ECatalog with you friends and family in mind. Christmas will be here before we know it (which is FANTASTIC, because that means I will be in Zimbabwe before we know it :)

Thanks Friends!

Sometimes It's The Little Things

As my trip to Zimbabwe is nearing, the excitement builds and builds. Tonight I am so overjoyed at the idea of seeing my little ones in less than two months that I feel like I may explode at any moment.

In fact, if I close my eyes tight enough, I can almost hear the sounds of

The rushing falls in the distance.

The far-off beating of drums in the dark of night.

Sunday morning worship echoing from all directions.

Elephants tromping through the bush.

Raindrops dancing on the rooftops.

Peanuts crackling over the fire.

And children calling my name in their wonderful little accents, "Ray-bay-ka! Ray-bay-ka!"

Oh, how I miss those little things.

Scooters are Cool.

To support my fundraising efforts for my upcoming trip to Zimbabwe, I received this very generous donation from Tom and Janet Baird:



I decided to do a raffle.

On October 1st Janet drew the winning ticket (sorry I know this announcement is a little late :)



And the winner is...



Esther!

(Pretend my eyes are open)

I am so excited that Esther won! She is a full-time staff at Youth for Christ. Not only does she direct the City Life program (that is our urban-outreach community ministry), she also lives downtown in the neighborhood she works in. Esther and her husband have been sharing a car, so the scooter has really been a blessing to her. To top it off the scooter has opened the door to start conversation and connect with more people in the community. Everyone loves the scooter!



And yes, she rides it in her heels :)

So, thank you again to Tom and Janet. The raffle was a big success, and the scooter has ended up being a double blessing!

Sweet Dreams

The other day I read a study about sleep/dream patterns and what they say about a person.

I have vivid, realistic, and often intense dreams nearly every time I sleep. I wake up and usually can remember several dreams from one night's sleep...or even a 20 minute nap.

Apparently this means that I am more prone to schizophrenia than the average person :/

It also means that I am most likely quirky, off beat, and a bit odd.



Yeah, I am pretty sure they don't know what they're talking about.

Some Cuteness

He lives a rough life.

Forgiveness and Freedom

(A continuation of Fear and Forgiveness)

Last night a group of ladies from my Life Group poured life into me through annointing and prayer.

They prayed for comfort and healing in my life. And they prayed for strength, because they knew, as did I, that I could not get through today without the strength that comes only through Christ.

Today I attended his funeral.

I stood with his family and friends. As the preacher phrased it, I stood among "Those who had been touched through his life."

I am sure that it was true; that each life there had somehow been affected by his. I prayed that among the crowd, that my story was unique. I hoped that the fun and charming man he was in public was also the man these people experienced behind closed doors.

The family welcomed me with open arms today. They were happy to see me, and happy to accept forgiveness on behalf of someone they loved.

Through words and stories they spoke of his salvation in the last years of his life, as well as the acceptance of death he knew was coming.

It caused a conflict in my soul to hear how great and wonderful this man was.

The man who taught me how to hate.

For a moment I almost surrendured to my instinct to just walk away, but it was in that moment that I was overwhelmed by peace, and God reminded me why I was there.

Forgiveness.

Long ago, after years of fighting him and running from him, I forgave him, and at that point the chains were loosed and I was set free.

Free from bitterness. Free from anger. Free from hate. And now, free from fear.

In that moment I decided not to step back into my chains.

So, today, I found the answers to questions. And, as much as I could hope, I found closure.

I continue to move along the path called Healing....

Reminder.

Have you written your sponsored child lately?

If you sponsor a child through Compassion, now is the time to send your holiday letters and goodies.



For my Fall/Thanksgiving package this year I made each child a scrapbook page with fall related items (remember that if your child does not write to you in English, you will need to leave room for translation).

The scrapbook pages are something I started after I met Dilsili and saw the binder she keeps of all the letters and photos I have sent over the last six years. She knew the name of every person in every picture, and it hit me that I have become just as big a part of her life as she is a part of mine. Now I make scrapbook pages for just about everything you can think of, just to help my kids get to know me a little better, and also so they feel included, in even the little things.

Here are some ideas for scrapbook page themes:

Seasons changing
Holidays
Special events (weddings, graduations, church events, family vacations, etc.)
Hobbies
Educational (animals, geography, world events, local news, astronomy, etc.)
Family
Pets


Also, with each month's scrapbook pages I include a personal letter to each of my four children. For September's letters (which will reach them in approximately 2 months) I talked about Thanksgiving, and told them why I am thankful for them. I was able to take the perfect opportunity to point out all the ways I think they are awesome. Hopefully they will read these and feel priceless.

I would like to end by reminding you that your letters bring so much joy and encouragement to your sponsored kids. The boost in self esteem and sense of self worth can give them the push they need to persevere through the many obstacles most of these kids face. Plus, you can be a huge example of Christ's love in their lives. So if you haven't done so lately, take the time to write your child(ren).

P.S. Not a sponsor? Want more information? Check it out here.

Ignore the Twitching....

I have taken on a new quirk.

When I cry for any significant amount of time or with enough conviction, I, as a result, take on a twitch.

The twitch is in my left eye, and it can last up to hours. One day last week it started at noon and did not end until I went to bed. Talk about going coocoobananas.

Not that I am a cry baby or anything...but lets just say I have been twitching a lot lately.

Not only has this week been emotional in and of itself, but God has been really breaking my heart on behalf of others lately.

Lets take a moment to review this week and its insanity:

Monday night an 8 year old girl was kidnapped from the neighborhood I volunteer in.

Tuesday I found out one of the girls I mentor ran away, had been missing for days, and according to her mother was spiraling out of control.

Friday my grandmother that lives in Colorado underwent surgery to remove an extremely aggressive breast cancer.

Friday I found out that the man that had been terrorizing my family for years passed away.

And on Saturday, my dear friend Trish was walking with her six month old son and they were both hit by a car.

Can you see why I have a twitch?

The good news is, I am writing all this to say that

God is good.

God is faithful.

God hears when we cry out to him.

On Tuesday morning, the adbucted child was found alive. She had been abused, but God put the right person in her path at the right time, and he stepped in and likely saved her life.

On Wednesday morning, the child I mentor returned home. Her mom told me immediately, praising God and thanking me for my prayers (this is a huge deal). It seems as though some great opportunities have arised from the situation.

On Friday doctors removed an egg sized tumor from my grandma's body, as well as several lymph nodes to which the cancer had spread. She is recovering well, will start radiation soon, and the doctors feel as though they got it all. (My family would greatly appreciate your prayers.)

For those of you who read Fear and Forgiveness , I found out this morning that according to his sister, who spent the last two weeks of his life with him, my mom's ex-husband had come to know the Lord before he died.

And last but not least, due to nothing less than divine intervention, my friend Trish is doing well, her greatest injury being a chipped spine and a broken leg. Her son was completely unharmed.

So as I sit here and twitch, it reminds me of God's great love for us, and just how amazing he truly is.

I would like to end this post by saying that several months ago I added a prayer wall to this blog. Many of the prayers have been answered, some in unexpected ways, but answered none the less. In the next couple weeks I will be updating my prayer wall. I would like it to serve as a place where can come together as believers to cry out on behalf of those in need.

Please let me know if you have any requests that you would like me to add to the wall, and feel free to look over the stories that are there, and pray as God would lead.

Fear and Forgiveness

A little over fifteen years ago I lived in a women's shelter.

I mentioned this time in my life briefly in A Mother's Heart, but the things that took my mom, sister, and I there are something I rarely talk about.

As I mentioned before, it was a shelter for abused women and children, a hideout for victims who had no one to protect them, and no place to feel safe.

The years leading up to this time we lived with an abusive man. My mom met him straight out of prison, and she was decieved by his charming ways. They were married almost immediately.

I hated him from the beginning. I am sure he is the only person I have ever really hated.

The abuse that happened over the next year and a half took many forms. Physical, emotional, and the worst of all, psychological.

Things that were done and said instilled fear in us that has remained until today.

Most of his adult life up to that point was lived between Vietnam and prison. We knew many of the horrible things he had done, but there were even more horrible things we didn't know. We knew all the ways he wanted to kill us, and there were times he almost did.

The following is taken from my journal and was written long ago:

"He would remind me that he could kill me with a jerk of the neck. He would grab me, and I would fight him. I would kick and bite and elbow the best I could. He liked that; that I would fight. I never got out of it. One time I almost escaped, and I would have if it wasn’t for my long ponytail. He grabbed it as I ran away. If I could have I would have cut it off in order to escape. Still, I would have come back and it would have been the same thing all over again, but I would have had that one time I got away.

When he got me in his grips, he did not do what one would expect in a typical abuse situation. He would hold my head with his hand, his other arm across the front of me like he was going to snap my neck. I am honestly surprised he never did. There was so much evil, I could see murder in his eyes, but for some reason, he let me live. God's plan for my life is the only way I can explain why he did not, in the midst of his insanity, kill me. Sometimes he would hold me there for 10 minutes, whispering words of death. Once he even grabbed a knife, and holding it to my neck suggested it may be more fun to slit my throat than snap it. When he let me go he would promise 'tonight.' Tonight, while I was sleeping, he would kill me then."

For a year and a half a woke up every morning wondering if that was the day he would kill me.

After 18 months my mom gathered the courage to tell him to leave. It was much easier said than done.

You see, we lived with him for less than two years, but the abuse continued long after.

The divorce began a fifteen year streak of restraining orders, self-defense classes, gripping fear to come home to an empty house, and moving constantly in attempt to stay one step ahead. He would break in and steal things, which would then end up in curious places months later. Once he sat right outside my bedroom window and smoked cigarette after cigarette while I slept, leaving the pile of cigarette buds as his sign that he had been there. He wanted us to know that he was there, and that he could have killed us. He would leave us notes and death threats. My mom would drive the car down the steep hill at one of the houses where we lived, and my sister and I would walk to the first stop sign before getting in, for fear that the breaks had been cut. Something as small as a call hang-up would turn our world up-side-down, because it was a sign that he had found us once again.

At one point, many years later, I made the decision that I would no longer live in fear. I stopped letting the fear control my life, but that does not mean I was not afraid.

Every time in the last fifteen years that I have come home to an empty house or walked across a dark parking lot, I have done so with fear. I have not let the fear stop me, and I have learned to cover it well, but it has been there.

In total it has been 17 years of fear. But today, for the first time in 17 years, I walked into an empty house without fear.

He will no longer threaten my family, because he died today.

When I first heard the news, I cried.

I had to stop and process and ask myself why I have tears for this man.

First, I know that they were tears of relief. After all these years of wondering if he would finally make true of his promise to kill me and my family, I know he never will. We have survived.

Second, I think I cried because I realized I would never find the closure I desired. I desired for him to one day send me a letter saying he was sorry. I desired that he would one day explain to me why he did what he did. And I desired that he would want my forgiveness. I also desired to tell him that I had forgiven him.

Lastly, I cried because I was sad.

Yes, this emotion was unexpected. How in the world could I possibly feel sadness for a man who had terrorized nearly my entire life?

I realized in that moment that I had truly and honestly forgiven him, and I was sad for him. It wasn't necessarily his death that made me sad, but his life. Somewhere deep down I truly desired for him to find salvation and healing.

Many years ago, not long after I wrote the words from the journal entry about him wanting to kill me, I wrote:

"It is easy for me to forget that he is human, because with that fact comes the reality that at some point he too has been a victim. I realized I know nothing about his childhood. I wonder when he forgot his goodness. I wonder if he was hugged or ever truly loved. I wonder about the first time he hated someone, if that was what devoured him. Hate can do horrible things to a person."

I believe I wrote that on the day I chose forgiveness over hate.

I find it hard to admit that he caused so much fear in my life. For years I have claimed the verse "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear." God is perfect love, and he is the breath that gives me life, so how could I, for 17 years, live with fear?

I don't know the answer to that. But I do know that today I am letting go of things I have been holding onto for so long. I do know that my heart is ready for healing. And I do know that today I will walk free of fear, and maybe in that freedom I will find the answers.

Looking for Someone to Open Up Their Heart

Okay, people. As most of you know I love Compassion International. I sponsor 4 kiddos, and have personally seen the impact sponsorship has on their lives. Sponsorship can take enough financial burden off of a family to allow a child to go to school who was previously required to work and bring in income. Sponsorship connects families to a local church where children recieve tutoring, mentoring, and the hope found only in Christ. Sponsorship meets immediate needs, such as food, shelter, and medical needs. And sponsorhsip connects a child to an adult who (ideally) will encourage them and shower God's love on them through their letters.

There are so many children on the website that tug on my heart. But every once in a while there is one that I just can't get out of my mind. Very rarely do I post a plea for sponsorship, but this is one of those posts.

For privacy reasons I am unable to post Kwame's picture, but you can view it here.

Kwame tugs at my heart for several reasons. Obviously, he is dangerously thin. The red heart in the left hand corner of his picture means he has been waiting for a sponsor for over six months. The red ribbon in the right hand corner means he lives in an AIDS affected area. Kwame is currently not attending school, which means that sponsorship will dramatically change his life by giving him an education that he is not recieving without it.

Kwame is 10 years old and lives in the country of Ghana in West Africa. His birthday is May 15, 2000.

I know there is someone out there on whom God will place an unmistakable burden for Kwame.

Please, read Kwame's information, look at his beautiful face, and ask if you are the one who is going to step up and change Kwame's life.

The Challenge. October 2010.

Last night a girl was abducted.

Her home is in the neighborhood I have volunteered in and fallen in love with over the last several years. The girls I mentor live in that neighborhood, and I have walked it and prayed over it many times. The people there have captured my heart.

So many crimes go unnoticed and unstopped in that neighborhood. Crime there is much of a way of life. But last night a crime occurred that crossed the line, even in one of the roughest areas around. Last night a little girl was in her neighborhood, playing in her own front yard, when a man forced her into his truck.

The story captured the attention of the city. Suddenly everyone who heard the news felt connected to this little girl and her family.

The news gave her a name, and the news gave her a face, and many hearts were broken for her.

Her name is Elisa, and she is 8 years old.

Today she was found alive.

A man who saw the abduction story on the news thought he spotted the truck that was decribed. He pulled up and asked the man inside if he had kidnapped Elisa. When he took a closer look he saw a young girl inside the truck. He risked his life to stop this man and save this one child, and he succeeded.

The child now sits at home with her family, and the abductor in a jail cell.

Tonight Elisa is at home with her family, the same girl that I prayed for her and cried for this morning. When I found out she had been rescued, I was saddened to hear the atrocities that were forced upon her by the man who took her, but also relieved to know that she was now safe.

When I praise God for Elisa, who tonight sits at home with her family, I can't help but think of the millions of children who lay in brothels, the streets, with strangers, who are owned like a piece of property.

Children are not property. And each child has a name; a name and a face, a personality, and a soul. Even if we don't see them, they exist, they are real.

I pray that this righteous rage that filled Elisa's community at her disappearance would fill our hearts for the abused and enslaved children all over the world. I pray that the courage which filled the man who risked his life for this one child would fill us as well, and that we would step up and take a risk to save these children.

The challenge this month is a continuation of last month's challenge. Please check it out if you have not done so already. If you participated in September's challenge, I ask that you would take the challenge to a more personal level.

I am not sure what this will mean to you, or exactly what it means to me, but I know that I am not ready to move on from this challenge just yet.

Sometimes They Break Your Heart

I have discovered the downside of motherhood.

(If you are a newer reader, and you are confused about my parenting status, you can see what the heck I am talking about here and here)

The downside is just what I stated in the title of this post...

Sometimes they break your heart.

You can love them beyond human capacity. You can spend days that add up to years welcoming them into your life. You can have the honor of walking beside them through laughter and heartache, conquest and failure. You can have the joy of introducing them to Christ, and watch as they allow him to invade their lives and dreams. You can spend hours praying with them, and spend many tears praying for them.

But in the end, they make their own choices, and they make their own mistakes.

Right now a child I love, a child my heart aches for, a child I have spent countless hours and sleepless nights in prayer for, is astray.

She is only 13. She has grown up surrounded by some of the very ugly things the world has to offer. And right now she is gone. She is a runaway, in every sense of the word.

I won't invade her privacy by revealing her name, but I ask that you would please pray for her. If you pray over the sweet faces in my Youth for Christ pictures, you will surely pray for her many times. God knows her name, and God knows her heart. Pray for her as God would lead, and I wouldn't mind a prayer too. Love can be hard.