emotional battle.

My time spent in Kafue could best be described as an emotional battle. Saturday morning, awakened by the Lord, I was aware that my time spent there would not be easy- however, little did I know what was yet to come.

The night before was difficult. Thinking about seeing my girls from last year again left me anxious, nervous, excited, scared, and questioning what the next few days would bring. It wasn't until I got in the car on Saturday morning, that I realized just how much of my weekened would be much different than how I expected it to be.

I got in the car. Humphrey was quiet. I asked him how he was doing, he said, "fine." I knew something was not right. No more than 30 seconds passed, and his mouth began to move, sharing that last evening, one of our Orphans (Ophrey) had passed away.

If you know my story of Ophrey, you know that I associate his name with the Hope of Jesus Christ. If you know what happened last year while I was here, you would understand how devastated this left me.

As I sat in the car, quietly, now in shock, I wondered if the joy of seeing my girls would even exist amongst the pain of this loss.

---

We made it to Uncle Bushe's (a retreat center where I had stayed last year) and it brought back many incredible memories. Walking down the roads in Kafue felt so good- a place I had known so well once before. My spirit excited, interested in what was to come.

I could write forever about my time in Kafue. I could write about each one of my children, once a little girl, now bigger and stronger- and my time with them. I could write about the pain of leaving them again, knowing I won't see them again for a while- but it is just too much to write.

To put things plainly, time in Kafue was an emotional battle. From the joys of seeing some of my little girls, to the pains of losing Ophrey- from the excitement of being back in Kafue, to the suffereing of some of the children- from the anxiousness of seeing them, to the heart breaking reality of those not sponsored- from the joy of hearing the blessings from the Lord, to the tragedy of hearing a child talk aboout shane(one of my teammates from last year that tragically passed away after returning), wondering when he will come back, all in the mean while, in the back of my head just imagining how devastated this child would be to know that shane is gone.

Joy amongst pain. Beauty amongst disaster. Laughter amongst tears. Hope amongst sorrow.

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I have yet to find words to explain my encounters with my girls. I have however, been able to write of my experience at Ophrey's funeral. This will conclude this post:

I wasn't expecting this.
I never thought we would actually ever lose one.
Ophrey- last year, a story of hope.
This year- his funeral.
I never thought I would have to do this.

I walk in- the church filled with mourners.
I am somber in spirit; nervous, scared, alone.
His body carried in, a small casket resting on sunken shoulders.

Then, I hear it. Over the silent cries of all the people gathersed- to women screaming-
their breaths, unable to fill their lungs.
the sound of grief- piercing.

i look to my left. a man, tears falling into his hands, cupped below.
i look forward- the Boy's Bregade- Ophrey's best friends.
i look down, my finger tips damp, with black streams of mascara, smeared.
i hold it in.

my eyes continue to scan the church.
i find myself angry- in disbelief.
Not that he's gone- but that all these people are here- at his funeral, screaming.
he lived alone. he's been alone. where were they then?
who am i to judge, yet, I find myself angry.

Then I am asked to speak.
I stand, exit the pew, and bow down before his casket.
I stand at the podium, and give my words.

As I stand before the church, my stomach aches. My knees weak. My eyes full, hindering my sight.
All I can see is one woman- she stands up and leaves the room. Another, burries her face in her hands.
I can't do this. This can't be happening.

I return to my seat. My heart pounding. I cry.
I feel a hand on my back- we pray.
my tears drown out the sounds.

I can't write more. I saw him, his lifeless body-
I remember him last year, weak and sick, yet carrying hope and life-
im sad. i hear the women.
i turn around and see them, collapsed on the ground yelling his name.
im angry, yet compassionate.

i just walk away.

elsewhere...

I will begin by a few words from a song I love,

"The splendor of the King, clothed in majesty, let all the earth rejoice, let all the earth rejoice."

Over the last few days, the splendor of the King surely has been demonstrated. I am unable to even truly touch on his majesty, and humbled in knowing that I cannot begin to fathom how great our God really is. It is incredible to be in the position I am, and I often wonder who am I to be so blessed as to be able to experience His love so tangibly each day.

I've been working on a piece of writing to capture what is is that the Lord has me here for. As I reflect and ponder on my experiences it is simple. The moment I pick up my sharpie, my scribbles turn into rubbish. I simply cannot spit it out.

It's extremely frustrating. Not only do I desire to work on this piece, but I also long to capture the beauty of every encounter that lingers in my mind. I think back on so many, recently and long ago, that I still have yet to find the prose. I long to put them on paper, allowing the beauty of each precious adjective to describe realities. I long to include them in my beautiful collection of treasured writings, rising to life in a journal given to me by my dear, Korrine. I simply cannot do it though.


more later.

i want s'more...

The last two days we have been out in Chongwe, camping away and working at Camp Hope. For those of you who know about my time in Zambia last year, this time, my role at camp is much different. The last two days I have been basically working on the registers, making sure each child (around 300) has been registered with the correct information and has been placed in the appropriate group. It has been a huge task, but fun somehow.

I am a bit sad though. Don't get me wrong, Camp (as an Intern)is full of many blessings, however I am not getting super close to many children. I enjoy so much hearing their stories, holding them, loving on them, and sharing with them the Love of Christ. This is something I miss terribly. Despite my troubles, I am extremely blessed to be able to watch others experience what I once have. It brings me great joy to see others, using the gifts that the Lord has blessed them with, in order to bless and love these children. It is incredible to see.

I have many things that I have seen, yet not a whole lot to say. We've had fun! Two nights ago, we were in one of the My Father's House orphanages and one of the children came out with bed sheets stuffed tightly in his clothes. It was hillarious. He was dancing around and all the children were laughing and chanting for him. It was absolutely hysterical.

Another exciting thing, from last night actually, is we sat around a table with candles (because we don't have power) and we roasted marshmallows and made s'mores. We taught one of our Zambian friends about S'mores, and I think he enjoyed it. I sure did!

Well, I better get going. Before I do that though, I would like to share one piece that I had written in my journal a day or two ago. It is about a little boy named Justin, who lives in one of the My Father's House homes:



My arms cradled around his little body. he breathes in and out; quiet, still. his cheeks quickly dampen; warm tears slowly falling down.

everyday- a smile on his face. excitement, but deep down- pain. he is scared- scared to lose again- scared to risk- scared to be alone.

this evening- there it was. behind all the smiles, the giggles- and fun - the pain of a borken childhood. nine years old- a boy- broken; in my arms.

his body, warm against mine. his tender- little face, resting sweetly against my chest. he clings to me-

again i experience it-
i never want to let go.....

monday morn....

Hello Everyone!

Sorry it has been a while, things have been quite busy! We are actually taking off this morning for Chongwe for the week, where we will be camping in tents for Camp. We are very excited that our first camp is finally here, and we are eager to see what the Lord is going to do.

I will not have access to the internet for a while, so blogs wont be up for a few days. I will make sure to write plenty, and then update my blog when I get home.

Time here is wonderful. The Lord continues to do many things and speak to my heart in many ways. I will have lots to share upon my return.

Well, I better be off.

Love,
Soph

oh today was quite incredible.
it began with the official opening ceremony for the My Father's House Orphan Homes in Chongwe village.
it ended with strawberry, green apple, and blue raspberry airheads. yum.
in between these events, i experienced an incredible amount of joy, peace, confidence, and excitement.

I will just recap on a few things:

Espina. Bianca. Lista. Catherine.
These little ones, I just cannot get enough. The sound of their precious giggles continues to bring warmth to my inmost being. The tenderness of their touch lingers on my skin. The joy in their hearts, engraved in my mind.

Harmony.
Another experience that I cannot get enough of. Sitting on the porch with Cypheen, with guitar in hand, singing. Looking at the sky, the sunset, the horizon. Feeling the breeze. Precious melodies, with harmonies weaving in and out. The chords. Beautiful. Singing to Jesus. Blessing.

Airport.
Aly. Gianna. Mikey. It's been almost a year. Excitement. I've been longing for this moment.

Short Term New-Be Arrival
Talking with them. Sharing the blessings of this place. Hearing their stories. Answering questions. Encouraging. The Lord has called His people - this will be incredible.

i think this is enough for now. im exhausted.
many blessings in Christ Jesus,
soph

joy.

phone vibrates. private caller. i answer. familiar voice - it's mom.

my smile remains.

tune my ears

There is something about this place that stills me.

I am constantly reminded that tuning my ears is far more important than loosing my tongue, and in that, I become still.

So much of me longs for a day where I would be able to converse with these lovely people in their language. So much of me, as we go out visiting children, wishes I could easily just talk with them. Despite the difficulty to communicate verbally, the Lord has revealed to me this:

In my most intimate times with the Him, words are not used. Words, meaningless jumbles of letters and sounds, honestly just create greater division. Similarly to intimacy with Christ, the more and more time I spend with the orphans here, the more and more I realize that intamacy with them is not reached through words, rather it is fostered in silence. My tongue need not be loose- my voice need not be heard- my ears must be tuned - my heart open.

I am yet again, asking for forgiveness, for my words seem to fail so much of what I experience here. I am easily annoyed with my inability to express basically everything I experience here however, just as I begin to listen, the Lord begins to speak.

"But the Lord is in his holy temple; let all the earth be silent before him." -Habakkuk 2:20

"The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." - Zephaniah 3:17

"He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul." - Psalm 23:3


All I can think of is little Bianca.
We've never shared a word, yet, a love so deep runs thick between us still.
I believe this is the Love our King has for his children, indeed.

Jesus, tune my ears.