Zimbabwean Thanksgiving #9

This morning I woke up and found myself trying to make sense of my ninth Thanksgiving in Zimbabwe.

That is 9 Thanksgivings without my family. Without a giant turkey and the smells of my childhood. Without Lions football. Without Black Friday. Without the Detroit Thanksgiving parade.

Some days I wake up and I cannot believe that this is my real life. That although there is so much I have learned to live without, I have somehow been given back so much more.

This year I have much to be grateful for but because this is my 9th Thanksgiving in Zimbabwe, I thought I would share my top 9:

1. I am married!!!! After what seemed like a lifetime engagement, I am now Mrs. Chari. And it is WONDERFUL. All I can say is that I married very, very well. This man is not perfect—but we are opposites in almost every way and he is the perfect man for me.

2. We had the best wedding. Ok, being married is taking up 2 of the 9, but I am a newlywed after all! After a quick plan to get married in court, our So Cal friends planned an entire wedding--- in a WEEK—and married us off surrounded by love and beauty and such joy. I know that our hearts will ever be grateful. So in actuality I am grateful for two things here: AMAZING FRIENDS who planned an AMAZING WEDDING! I also love that we have a church community at Woodside that loves us enough to put our wedding story in their paper!!

3. There is a little girl named Ruth who captured my heart years ago and we have been blessed to give and receive love from her for yet another year. We do not take this for granted and are starting to view each day as a miraculous gift from God.

4. I become more grateful for my family with each passing month. We are not perfect and some might say we are a bit crazy, but I wouldn’t swap them for anything in the world. I miss them terribly on holidays and special occasions, but it is in the general ebb and flow of life that I appreciate them the most. My father has made some tremendous changes this year and I can honestly say that I am grateful for his efforts.



5. On the way home to Zimbabwe after our whirlwind American wedding, I stopped over in London to meet my mother in law for the VERY FIRST TIME. This caused some anxiety to say the least, however she is a gift straight from God. She has been loving and gracious and patient with me. Today is her birthday and I am so grateful for her life and thankful for the way that she raised the man who loves me so.

 



6. I have been sober for 14 years (MIRACLE) and this year our church began walking a journey of recovery to allow us reach out to the broken in our community. The leaders have graciously allowed me to walk them through the 12 Steps as we prepare. This is so very humbling and each week that we meet, I feel the Holy Spirit move in a special way. I am grateful that God saved my life 15 years ago so that I would be here for such a time as this.Hopefully we will be seeing a lot of these key chains around Harare!


7. After lots of years (9 since my last graduation) I am back in school getting a masters in missional leadership. This semester has grown me in outrageous ways and has made me more confident than ever that the work I am doing matters. I am not very grateful for the work load, but I am extremely grateful for an opportunity that I do not feel qualified for or worthy of-- and for the 5 guys in my cohort who are constantly encouraging me!

 
8. I have had the distinct pleasure of studying under a woman named Dr. Karyn Purvis who is a hero in my field. What an honor it has been to learn from her wisdom and experience. She has revolutionized the way in which children with attachment disorders are treated in therapy. The time I spent in Dallas this year has made me a better therapist and I am more equipped to help the kids with complex developmental trauma that I encounter in Zimbabwe.



9. Once again I have spent an entire year doing work that I love and believe in without a salary and yet I have been provided for in miraculous ways, every day because other people believe in what I am doing enough to sacrifice and give.  Can I just say that I am feeling so very blessed that I get to do what I believe God has called me to on a daily basis? I come alive in the sacred places in which I am allowed to listen to the stories of the kids in this place! 

So there we have it, 9 things that I am most thankful for today on my 9th Zimbabwean Thanksgiving! What are you most thankful for today?

CONFESSIONS of an imperfect missionary

This week was a bit stressful for me. There was a lot going on and I was preparing to head from Zimbabwe to the States. That is not an excuse for what I am about to write... it is just a the truth.

Sometimes when I am stressed out and things don't go the way I want them to, I get a little edgy. Ok, for those of you who know me you know that is a total understatement. I get grouchy, and if you are in my way, I might even get mean.

Nyasha and I went to the airline to pay for my ticket and the unfortunate customer service woman on duty had a little bit of an attitude, (probably because she was working on a Saturday) and she was less than polite and helpful (which is what I think customer service agents should be) and I gave it right back to her-- times 10.

I hate when I do that.  I want to be a light. I want to be so kind to rude people that they look at me and wonder what is wrong with me.  But oh how hard this is for me.

Nyasha hates when I do this. He cringes, because he is nice to the RUDEST people. Sometimes I think he doesn't realize when they are being rude. Ha! He does, he's just so good at overlooking it and being his kind and gracious self.  His name means "grace/mercy". Mine means "queen". Go figure.

Anyway, Everything worked out fine and I got my ticket and I flew to Johannesburg and while I was waiting for my flight to London, I heard 3 different groups of people (some American, some British) being rude to people who were working at the airport (one employee had been very rude, the other two were just slightly slower than necessary while undergoing their tasks).

UGH.

I heard myself in their words and their tone and I cringed.

It is my prayer that I learn to be a little more like Jesus every day.  I don't want to be this person who values relationships less than accomplished tasks. I want people to have had an enjoyable experience with me even if they take too much of my time booking my flight or do so with an attitude. 

Mixed Emotions: Urgent Prayer Request

Hi special friends,

 I am so excited to embark on this two year journey as I study Missional Leadership with a cohort of other students who are ministering around the country. I know that my eyes will be opened to so many ways to better serve the children in our Zimbabwean community. It will be great to be able to study with a group online so that I can continue to work in Zimbabwe as I learn!

However, the excitement is wrapped in grief as I get on a plane to say god-bye to my Uncle Dave. I have such fond childhood memories of this fun loving uncle of mine. There is no way to say good-bye to him without thinking of the loss of my mother, his older sister. He passed away on Monday night and he leaves behind a wife and two young sons. I would be so grateful if you could keep my family in your prayers.

This life that we live is sometimes messy and one emotion is often entwined with another. That’s how I am feeling today, a little bit messy.

I have found a great deal on a flight that will allow me to make it home for my Uncle Dave’s funeral, and then I will just stay on for school that starts on August 16. Although this is a great deal, it is one that I hadn’t budgeted for, as I was planning on flying stand-by with a buddy pass as usual. This will allow me to fly with a ticket, ensuring that I will be home in time for the funeral.

I have made a reservation, and I have 24 hours to pay for the ticket. If you would pray that the finances would be available to pay for the ticket I would appreciate it. If you would like to make a tax deductible contribution towards my travel for school and the funeral, I would appreciate that as well. You can do that at www.RockofAfrica.org/regina/ My travel will cost $1500 and any amount you can give will make a major difference!

Thank you for your prayers and support,

With love from Zimbabwe,

Regina

Great News!

The number one predictor of a child’s success is their attachment to a parent or primary caregiver. That is what the research shows. As a social worker and a therapist I knew this, but it didn’t necessarily break my heart until November 2005 when I sat in the dirt in a Zimbabwean parking lot with a group of 12 boys, each of which had no connection to a primary caregiver.

Most of you reading this know the story; it became impossible for me to walk away. I could quote dismal statistics of what happens to kids in Zimbabwe when they are orphaned or as they age out of orphanages, but I won’t do that today. Mainly because I know that no matter what the numbers say, there is a solution. It is not an easy one; it is costly—almost beyond measure. But it is totally worth it.

If a child is orphaned, abandoned, or neglected, exposed to alcohol or drugs, their mother had a stressful pregnancy or was malnourished, or they have experienced prolonged dehydration or starvation, they are considered children from hard places. Zimbabwe has 1.6 million orphans and an immeasurable amount of children from hard places.

Many of these children are available for adoption locally. Few were being adopted, but we are seeing that change! With a team of Zimbabweans from The Michael Project, I have spent the past couple of years advocating and raising awareness in local churches and communities and we are seeing the fruit of that. Families are starting to adopt and churches are encouraging family based interventions as opposed to building another orphanage. This is great news!

However, in order to best equip these families to parent children from hard places we need to be able to help them overcome the trauma that results from the grief of losing their first family. This is where you come in.

There is so much that can be done. First of all you can pray, for the children and for their families. Secondly, you can help us provide the resources many of these families need –it is inexpensive to adopt in Zimbabwe, but it is expensive to raise a child. Thirdly, you can help me attend an invaluable training in the States. I am being certified in TBRI, an extremely successful therapeutic intervention for children from hard places. It will cost $9,600 for me to attend this and a couple other trainings in the States, including my travel.

 If you would like to make a tax deductible donation towards these expenses, please see www.rockofafrica.org/regina I appreciate your prayers and support so much.

Without you these last 7 years would have been very different indeed! Every child that I have been able to counsel here is because of the amazing generosity of you, my friends and family.

Love from Zimbabwe,

Regina

"Adoption is a redemptive response to tragedy that takes place in this broken world" Katie Davis

World War Win- The Power of Vulneralbility

A few weeks ago in church a very brave husband and wife stood up and shared their deepest hurts.  He had battled an addiction to pornography.  He had been unfaithful.  She had been blindsided and devastated.  They were brave, they walked through a time of healing.  It took years, but they stood there side by side, hearts strongly connected in a way that can only happen when you have been in the deepest, darkest pit and found your way out together.   

Their story, shared with us in church has brought forth an amazing response.  Others standing up and saying "Me too! I need help."  

I love what happens when we share our experience, strength and hope.  It is scary, it is like standing naked in harsh light--and yet it brings freedom- to the one sharing and to the one sitting there who can relate.

I shared this on facebook a while ago:

The two most powerful words when you are in the midst of a struggle are, "me too."

Never underestimate the power of vulnerability. It is not weakness, it is brave, it is strong. When we share our struggle we give other people hope. We lose shame that is attached to secrecy, judgement and silence. We are neurologically wired to be connected and when we share those two words, "me too" a connection is made that allows for healing, comfort and the space to be unashamed!

We each have a story and there is power in sharing it! Someone out there might be waiting for you today, so that they can finally utter those words, "me too."

Tomorrow this brave couple begins a journey, like nothing they could have expected.  They will celebrate their anniversary (14 years of marriage I believe) in a room full of over 100 people who are battling issues ranging from lust to pornography addiction to adultery.  They will share their hearts over the next 4 weeks in the hope that others may find the same freedom that they have.

Will you join me in praying for this amazing couple and every person who is brave enough to walk through the door tomorrow?

God loves to take our deepest wounds and heal them and then give us the opportunity to help others heal as well, and I absolutely LOVE watching redemption in action.

If you are in Harare and you need help in one of these areas, please join us at River of Life Eastlea tomorrow (Wednesday) evening! 

This song is such an encouragement to me, I hope you will enjoy it!

Exciting News!

Hello friends and family,

I am embarking on something new that is both frightening and exciting for me: I am going back to school!  For the past 7 years, I have been living and working in Zimbabwe as a missionary.  The world has changed so much in the past decade that few people are fortunate enough to be utilizing the degrees they earned;  I am proud to say that both my bachelor and master degrees in Social Work, coupled with my experience with children and youth have equipped me for the work I started out doing here.  I am grateful every day for the education I received prior to coming to Zimbabwe. 

However, as time has passed, I have found that much of my work now centers around equipping and empowering the local church to care for the 1.6 million orphans in Zimbabwe, as the church is truly the only entity big enough to manage the orphan crisis we are facing.

I have been greatly inspired by the work Saddleback Church has been involved with in Rwanda.  Orphanages are closing as indigenous families in Rwanda adopt and foster orphaned children!  There is a great shift in the global movement of orphan care from orphanages and institutions to foster care and adoption.

Zimbabwe too is in an orphan crisis and the church must follow its command to care for the orphans in their distress. Knowing that the world is now moving away from building orphanages, and whenever possible, finding families for these special children -  it has been on my heart for the past couple of years to better equip myself regarding this shift in philosophy, which really now resembles a more healthy outlook on care taking for abandoned children.   For the past few years I have been counseling children in orphanages in order to help them connect with their caregivers. I have been part of a team equipping pastors with resources to teach about indigenous adoption and I have been providing support and counseling to Zimbabwean families who are adopting.   

With that in mind, after a lot of searching, I have found a program at a college in Michigan that offers a fabulous Masters Degree in Missional Leadership.  I will be studying with a small cohort of students doing amazing things.  The majority of our work will be done online, and once a semester, I will fly back to the States for a week-long intensive course - each time in a different location so that we can learn from people who are implementing skills we are learning, in their ministry. 

What I love about this program is that my coursework will be able to involve things that I am currently doing in ministry and the program is created in such a way that you don’t stop working to go to school, but rather you are required to be in working in some capacity in a ministry before you can even start the program.  Throughout the two year program, I will become increasingly more prepared to help the church in Zimbabwe to better care for our orphans. 

I believe that this is an imperative next step in the commitment I have made to God to serve the children of Zimbabwe.  However, I need your help.  I haven’t spent one day serving in Zimbabwe alone.  I have had a dedicated team of people around praying, encouraging and financially supporting work here.  I have been overwhelmed by the love that you all have shown me over these past 7 years and never have I needed you more. I am working with an amazing group of people in Zimbabwe that all have a heart for God and are committed to seeing children without homes placed with a family.

I will travel to the States Mid-August for school orientation and my first one week intensive course in September.  I will stay on to complete a training for adoptive parents as well as a course on TBRI, a therapeutic intervention that is highly successful with children that have experienced trauma.

I have received a 100% scholarship for the cost of the TBRI training, and a 30% scholarship for my masters program, however, I need to raise $9,600 to cover the cost of my first semester of school, my travel and the other trainings I will be participating in while I am in the States. If you would like to make a tax deductible contribution to cover these expenses, I would be so grateful! I cannot emphasize enough how even the smallest donations can help! You can do so online at: http://www.rockofafrica.org/regina

With love from Zimbabwe,

Regina

P.S.If you would like to set up a meeting or a time for me to speak at your church or school, please email me soon!

Random ramblings about my mom, my recovery and my faith and the day they intersected.

This week I have been thinking about my mom a lot.

I think of her frequently anyway, but my mom passed away on July 4, 1999...so the days leading up to the 4th of July each year bring her to mind more often.

I don't often talk about my mom's death.  It was horrible and tragic...the things nightmares are made of.

No one is ever ready to lose their mother. No one. No one's loss is made less by the age their mother lives to or how she dies. I am not saying my loss was more devastating, but her death certainly was tragic.

She was burned in a fire.  Some people who are burned in fires die quickly from smoke inhalation and that might bring some peace to their relatives, like when people say, "At least she didn't suffer."  My mom suffered. Terribly.  Her entire body was covered third degree burns.  She was unrecognizable. And yet I recognized every inch of her body.

You see my mom left us.  When we were little, she had issues that tore her insides apart and she had a horrible marriage to my father.  And there came a day when I was in elementary school that the battle became too fierce and she had to walk away.  For my entire life I hoped and prayed and wished on every star that she would come back to us--to my brother and I.  I memorized everything I could about her to hold onto a connection with her.

We got to see her sometimes, on holidays or supervised visitation days or a random moment when I reached out to her and she was there....like when I was 17 we met for lunch at Ruby Tuesday's and went prom dress shopping. It might have been one of my favorite days.

But when I was 19, my grandma came to pick me up from work in the middle of a random June day. I knew something was terribly wrong. I knew it was my mom, I had felt it the whole day. Something was off in my heart and I was crying over nothing.  When I saw my grandma she looked like she had seen a ghost.  I asked her if my mom was dead and she said, "Not yet Gina, but you have to come now."

I can't even remember what happened next, I am pretty sure my Uncle Tom came to pick me up and we drove to Detroit and I walked into the burn unit for the first time.  I don't remember anything other than the horrible anger that boiled over inside of me.

I was 19, 4 months sober and not at all ready to face the demons inside of me related to my relationship with my mom.  I had read the 12 steps, I knew what was coming--the whole character defects, listing persons I had harmed and amends thing-- but I wasn't there yet. 

And she was unrecognizable, laying there, charred.  But I knew every inch of the body I had waited so long for.  My heart and my brain could remember the arms that had held me, the hands that had nurtured me.  You see, those days before my mom's addictions and issues took over, she loved me.  She nurtured me, she cared for me and we were connected.  It was in those moments that I instinctively knew what I would later learn in school.  That memory is at a cellular level, that synapses' in my brain formed when I was a baby-- when my mother held me and cared for me those first few years, and that those memories don't go away.  I would forever be tied to this woman who loved me first, and hurt me the worst. 

But I was 19 and newly sober and all I could feel was the pain and the injustice.  I watched her as she suffered that day.  There is no amount of morphine that can make one "comfortable" when their body is in the state my mother's was in.  I hated her for coming back to me like that. Coming back when no one could guarantee she would live...when it was the kinder and more loving thing to pray that she wouldn't. 

I was at this place in my recovery, that I wanted to believe in God.  But God allowed my mom to leave and God had allowed this to be our reunion.  I might believe but I couldn't love a God like that. 

My brother came to the hospital once.  I wanted to help him--I could remember back to before I rebelled--to the days when I was a little girl who tried to make everything okay by being perfect.  I wanted to be that big sister for him, the one who would play Sesame Street records really loud in the bedroom so he didn't hear my mom and dad fighting.  I wanted to help him be okay, because maybe that would mean that I was okay.  But I couldn't.  All I could do was sit there, with her. And hope, for a look, a word, anything that would make what happened in my life okay, to make it make sense.

I was looking to my mom to make sense of it for me, and she couldn't--not then, not ever.

People came and went, days passed and people visiting told me what I needed: food, sleep, a break.  The things people say when tragedy strikes. The things that seem foreign in those moments.  I am so grateful for the people who loved me in those days... and for the people who gave me what I needed--even if that was space. 

There were days in which the doctors said she was getting better, that there might be hope.  And then there was the night.  It was 4th of July, one of our families favorite holidays--the night my mom and dad always made fun no matter how much they struggled with one another.  My friends were going to watch fireworks, I should go with them, I knew that. I needed to get out, I needed a break.  "She's doing well today", I told myself.  My boyfriend organized to drive me out to spend the day with my girlfriends.  I needed that.  I also needed a drink, but they were amazing and encouraging and I drank coke instead.  We left the cell phones in the car. I don't know why, we didn't even think about it.

When we got in the car and started driving both of our phones started going crazy.  His and mine.  My voicemail said 14 messages.  That can't be good.  He turned the car around and we went straight to the twins house.  Jason knew, he knew that I needed their parents.  As we started listening to messages it became clear--my mom was gone.We needed to stop by the hospital to ID her body and pick up her things.  My brain tried to register what was coming. I'm 19. I just wanted a conversation with her, a moment to make things make sense. No conversation was coming, just a funeral.

No more suffering. That's what they would say, but how could they be sure?

My Uncle Frank was sure. This dear man who sat with me many times over those 29 days and let me say the most ugly things I could say about my mother and about God.  Who spoke with no judgement, only sincerity and wisdom and truth. At one moment early on I said, "This is just what my mother deserves" and he looked at my with tears in his eyes, a heart broken for my pain and said with only love, "Oh Regina, if only we all got what we deserved."  And the stone around my heart started to chip away.  No theology, no doctrine, no plan of salvation, just words spoken in love at the right moment. 

On another day, we spoke about Heaven and Hell. I had questions about my mother, about me.  I was trying to shape this picture of God, "as I understand Him" from my Big Book. Certainly people like me and my mom would go to hell.  Certainly.  We had done horrible things, hurt others terribly.  I was 19 and less than a year from a suicide attempt--certainly that was one of those unforgivable sins that even Christians are afraid to talk about. 

But he sat with me, and he answered my questions, again with no judgement.  Just love and relationship. This man was no stranger, he had cared for my heart since I was born. He had prayed for me and treated me with kindness for 19 years.  He had waited for the day when I would ask him these questions--waited for me to wrestle with God.  He told me that nothing that I had done, or nothing my mother had done was bad enough for God to stop loving us.  I cried.  I wasn't ready, not yet... something changed in my heart that day, more of the hardness around it fell away, but I wasn't ready to have that for myself yet-- but I wanted it for my mother.  Her days appeared to be short and in one of the few moments of relative clarity she had, she listened while my Uncle Frank asked her if she wanted a relationship with Jesus.  If she would acknowledge her sinfulness and her need for a savior.  That was the best day ever.  With a slight groan and a single tear, I believe that my mom answered that question and found peace amongst the turmoil.  He prayed with her, with me. I believed that my mother found what she needed that day. The day I was able to forgive the pain her absence caused and the day she was set free.

Losing a mom is hard.  Some days here in Zimbabwe the reality hits me.  I work with orphans, yesterday I was reading a document and it had the definition of orphan, "Someone who has lost one or both parents."  This wave washed over me.  I am an orphan. 

I can remember such beautiful things about my mom. I can remember her making me laugh, I can remember her painting Sesame Street characters all over my bedroom. I can remember the most amazing Halloween costumes and fun games we would play.  My mother was a good woman.  My mother also battled addictions, addictions that caused her to do terrible things.  I know this because I have had the same battles.  I am grateful for recovery, for without it I never would have survived my mother's funeral.  When I think of my mother it makes me more grateful for recovery, because I am forever reminded of what it is like to live without it. I read my mother's journal-- I know that she would have given anything to be free from her addictions.None of those things bring comfort to me when I think of her now--the only thing that brings comfort is knowing that God never stops pursuing us, and that no matter when that time comes for us to receive His grace He is always ready to forgive. 

My journey to Jesus sped up when my mom was burned in that fire.  In 29 days everything changed... my mom came back to me, I had time to cry and yell at her, I had time to forgive her, I had time to love her.  I had time to say good-bye.  In those 29 days I have no doubt that my mother suffered, but those days were a gift from God.  The feelings of abandonment as a child shaped my life forever, but that reconciliation  has changed my heart.  Without those 29 I might spend the rest of my life wondering where my mom is.

I had to write this today because it was time for me to get it out.  This was for me.

I'm back....

I arrived safely back in Zimbabwe today.  These journeys are always long-- there is no EASY was to get to the other side of the world, that is for sure!

I have had such an amazing 5 weeks in the States, I will write about my experiences for sure... but I will try to say a few quick things here:

1. I spent a large chunk of my time learning about best practices in orphan care, and I am blown away by the amazing people I have met. Christians who are both brilliant AND in love with Jesus--such a fabulous combination!
2. I am thrilled about what is happening in Zimbabwe right now, and I feel like the opportunity to make a difference is far greater than I had ever imagined!
3. I missed this place.  I am still not sure which place is "home," hopefully I will never have to choose!

We are heading into a time of uncertainty in Zimbabwe.  Elections are coming, although the date is not set yet.  I am here for the next few months on a holiday visa...for that reason (as often is the case) you will not see any posts here about my work. 

I will be posting more regularly, this is a goal I have set for myself, but the posts will be more about my personal life here and my thoughts and rambles!

With Love from Zimbabwe,
Gigi

Anne Frank's Legacy

I can remember reading The Diary of Anne Frank for school.  I can’t remember exactly what grade it was or what teacher assigned it but I remember that it left me changed.  Since then, I have been fascinated with reading any stories, fiction or non-fiction that have the tragedies of the World Wars or the Holocaust in the background.  

In the few times I have been in Amsterdam in my life, I have never visited the Anne Frank House Museum.  Mainly because there is always a really long line… as there was this weekend as well!

But this trip I had time! Today I had the privilege of walking through the home that Anne Frank and her family lived in as well the small space they were hidden in for years that they called, the annex.

As we walked through the house my heart broke again as I recalled stories from her diary as I glimpsed at pictures from her childhood that ended so soon when a Nazi knocked on their door after being tipped off that they were hiding.    

On one wall were these words written by Anne, “I know what I want, I have a goal, I have opinions, a religion and love.”  I couldn’t help but think what we could all accomplish if we had only these!

Anne Frank’s father, Otto, was the only member of his family that survived. His wife and daughters and many friends were lost to him behind the fences of concentration camps.

One of the things that most moved me in the time I spent in this place was a video of Anne’s father, sharing why he published her journal.  He said that it took him a long time to read it, because they were her private thoughts.  He was so sincere in his love for his daughter and in the words he spoke, and it made me think of the sacrifice we often have to pay to leave a legacy. 

Anne wanted to be a writer. She dreamed of writing books after the war was over.  Her father made her dream come true and this family has left an immeasurable legacy.  Anne’s thoughts and words have given us a unique and personal look at the holocaust.  I can’t imagine how painful it was to lose everyone he cared about and then to relive his youthful daughter’s hopes and dreams as he personally translated her journal for Swiss relatives. 

I am so grateful he did.  Otto has been quoted as saying, “I believe that it’s everyone’s responsibility to fight prejudice.” I know that for me, The Diary of Anne Frank ignited in my young heart a desire to do whatever it would take to fight prejudice and injustice.  I know I am not the only one.

I will leave you with the power words of this young girl, “How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.”