Being a Pebble

One thing I learned in Ethiopia, probably the most difficult to learn, was how to be in the background of the battlefield instead of on the front lines. It took a while, but the Lord revealed it to me in this way:

When you drop a pebble in the water you get a ripple, then another ripple, then another ripple, and so on. You have to have something to make the initial ripple, otherwise the ripples will never be created in the first place.

While in Ethiopia I taught mainly one of the missionary’s boys. I was really discontent and unsatisfied in my ‘ministry’ because my primary ‘ministry’ was with an American boy. Over a few weeks God showed me how I was placing limits and boundaries on what it ‘ministry’ means, and how ‘missions’ is supposed to look. Day after day I would cry out to the Lord, “Why! Why am I here in Africa teaching an American boy? It makes no sense!” I was frustrated – really frustrated. Every time I would cry out to God He would soften my heart. Day after day the bitterness and the boundaries were dissipating.

One day the Lord told me, “You are the pebble. Every ripple is created from something, and you, My beloved, are the pebble to keep this ripple going.”

What?

Then He explained. If I hadn’t been teaching Ethan, Jennifer wouldn’t have been able to focus on the Home School moms all across Ethiopia. If she isn’t supporting the home school moms across Ethiopia, they would be getting burnt out and restless, not being effective in their ministries. If the moms are having a really hard time being there, the husbands wouldn’t be as effective in their ministries – which means people aren’t hearing the Gospel, and are not accepting Jesus Christ as their Savior.

Ministry is such a large, ambiguous term. It encompasses so much. I didn't know that before. I was teaching an American boy, and it was ministry. We talked about the Lord. We grew in our faith and knowledge of Him everyday. The Lord blessed us because we were seeking Him. That is ministry. Missions doesn't have to be living with another culture. My mission was to live in Africa, among Ethiopians, to teach an American boy. 

Although being at the frontlines, preaching the Gospel to the Ethiopians, watching people being saved by the dozens was something I was, dare I say, expecting, it is definitely not what God had planned for me in my time in Africa. I did get to teach and witness to young Ethiopian ladies, and it was awesome – my favorite thing I did while I was there. I have to remind myself not to be bitter about the time I didn't get to do that, and instead remember that I did, and the Lord was with us, and it was good. The most important thing was that God used me exactly the way that was needed, and His Kingdom will be furthered because of it.

“For the Lord is good, and His love endures forever.” –Psalm 100:5a

Another Amoeba?

The day to fly out of Ethiopia has finally arrived. We load our suitcases, say goodbye to the Giles family, and head into town. Before we head to the airport we have a full day ahead of us.

Our first stop: Bingham Academy. The entire drive to Bingham I was crying. So I told myself: stop crying (because we all know that works). Then I made a deal with myself: “You can cry when you see Joy Heddleston. But not before.” So we pulled into the parking lot, and I get ahold of myself. I hop out of the van and start walking. The first person I see: Joy Heddleston. I made a deal with myself, and you better believe I kept it.

We spend our time with the Bingham staff. We pray together a few times. Kait was sick, so we prayed for her. Then we went to Mallory’s piano recital. After Kait and I ran over to Joy’s apartment to say ‘Ciao!’ we loaded up and drove away from Bingham.

We decided to eat at Tivoli’s. Kait puked on the way there. My stomach started acting a little funky, but not enough to concern me. We ate dinner, except the puking Kaitlyn, and hopped back in the van. We had to stop at Sishu’s, a local restaurant with super awesome burgers, to deliver some pottery. Then came our last drive – the drive to the airport.

The drive was mostly hilarious. I was quoting Hot Rod when Rod Kimble and Kevin Powell were talking about the ‘safety word’. Rod says, “Why am I saying what what whay?” Darby, Mallory, and I could not stop laughing. We get to the airport, get all thousand bags onto carts, and say our goodbyes to the Fehllas (my hilarious and loving nickname for the Fehl family). Kait and I get our luggage checked, through security, and to our gate in no time. As we are waiting for our plane my stomach starts acting up. It’s mostly fine. Until we are about two hours from D.C. Then I start puking, and other things. My symptoms are eerily similar to last month when I had Bert, my amoeba.

After we landed in D.C. I texted Bethany to tell her I’m about to die and need to go to the doctor when we get into Indianapolis. Bethany picked us up from the airport in Indy, we grabbed some dinner, and went to the hotel. Kait and I drove to a clinic to get a prescription for Bert 2.0. Of course, it wasn’t that easy.

I am in the room, chillin’ on the bed, freezing my tail off. A nurse walks in; a young, African American woman. She takes my vitals and asks me what is going on. I told her that I was in Ethiopia for about 6 months, just got into the States earlier that day, had an amoeba last month, took metronidazole and it made me sick, and now I think I have another amoeba. Not a big deal. I just need some medicine to kill it, and I’ll be on my way. She asked me my symptoms from the metronidazole, so I told her. I became really dehydrated, weakness, slight fever, and black urine. The woman almost had a heart attack. She slapped the cabinet door, looked at me and said, “NUH! UH! NO YOU DID NOT!” Naturally, I laughed.

The doctor came in and I told him the same thing. His reaction was something else. He told me this: “You need to see a GI (gastro intestinal) specialist immediately. You’ve had this going on for over a month. You might have to have surgery and get part of your intestine taken out. You could DIE!” Naturally, I laughed. I reminded him that I had an amoeba last month and it was taken care of. He did not give me any medicine, or a prescription. He did give me information for a GI Specialist. And a stool sample kit.

Whatever was wrong is gone now, no thanks to the doctor. And CMF now has a full stool sample kit to use at their disposal.