That Time I Felt Like The Worst Missionary Ever.

Ru and Viv outside the church we were ministering in

Sometimes ministry stuff just doesn’t work out the way we plan.  

Nyasha and I had been invited to speak to a gathering of women and youth about 40 minutes outside of town.  We were going to be speaking about addiction, how it impacts the security of families and how people related to or in community with alcoholics can help.

In order to arrive on time, we needed to leave Saturday morning around 9:00.  Since the place we were speaking at was near a game park, we decided we would pack a picnic lunch and take the girls to see some animals afterwards. 

Friday night Vivi didn’t sleep well--she is teething terribly.  Our poor little girl has several teeth coming through and is struggling through the pain.  She is biting all of us at any given moment, she is clingy and whinny and some nights just can’t sleep.  Friday night she was awake from about 1:30-5:30 intermittently crying and wanting to play.  Nyasha and I took turns sleeping and doing baby duty.  I love that man, what on earth would I do without him?

He left for work Saturday morning at 7:30.  Vivi and I were asleep, he decided to let us rest.  I woke up startled and disoriented at 8:45!  FIFTEEN MINUTES TO GET ALL THREE OF US READY AND OUT THE DOOR.  That is an impossibility.  We did the best we could and got on the road a few minutes late and Nyasha got stuck at work and wasn’t able to come with us….

So now we are running late and I am on my own with both girls! We did our best to try to follow the directions, but we made a few wrong turns before we made it to our destination! This could’ve been a nightmare, but the people I was scheduled to speak to were so gracious and wonderful!

Because we were running late and they were running late, I ended up having to speak during Viv’s nap time.  Ru was doing a great job playing with her little sister while I worked, but Viv had enough and I still had about 10 minutes to go.  Ru brought her to me and because she was uncomfortable, in a new place and overtired, she wanted to nurse.  So there I was with a baby trying to rip my shirt off and a room full of people with their eyes on us, listening to me speak.  I apologized, made a joke about how grateful I was that this was taking place in Zimbabwe and not the USA and continued my talk while I stood nursing little miss Vivi.  There was one pastor that was especially stone faced.  I just knew that he was struggling through my nursing on stage!

Honestly I wanted to curl up and die.  I just couldn’t believe this was happening.  We survived the next ten minutes while I distractedly finished up.  Vivi fell asleep and I put her down in her car seat.  There was a queue of people to chat before I left.  One of the first people was the stone faced pastor.  I couldn’t believe it. He affirmed me in such a rich and kind way.  And then THIS:

“You are a real missionary.  In my lifetime, I have met many people here to help, but what you are doing is practical and loving.  I so appreciated how you shared with us.  And I wanted to let you know not to feel bad about nursing your child in the middle of our time.  You were attending to a need without dropping the ball on your responsibility.  That was such a picture of how we must learn to minister to others. Jesus often ministered to people on His way elsewhere. I was really touched by that. Thank you so much.”

I love this picture, I have the same one with Nyasha and Ru!!

The girls and I made our way to the game park and had such a great afternoon.  Ru and I were thrilled to have some time alone to chat while Vivi slept and then when she woke up we all giggled as Vivi squealed with excitement every time Ru pointed out an animal

JOY.

She wanted Vivi to love this tortoise as much as she does.... but she totally wasn't into it!

Look Vivi! A GIRAFFE!

What a gorgeous day for a game drive!

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We had so much fun with the lions! Viv kept roaring at them!

Sometimes ministry stuff just doesn’t work out the way we plan.  Sometimes it is better.

Team Chari: On Rising

We have one little girl learning how to ride a bike despite massive balance and coordination challenges.  We have another little girl learning how to walk.  I think the timing for both is God’s providence in our life as a family. 

 

They get to see each other falling and getting back up! It’s beautiful! They cheer each other on and there is no shame for the one taking her first fumbled steps, nor is there any shame for the one struggling to keep the bike upright.  I LOVE IT.  One of the most important things I get to do as a mommy is to teach my children that there is no shame in and no reason to fear, falling down.  

Ride, Baby Ride!

People often ask why I am so willing to publicly talk about my shortcomings, character flaws and outright failures.  THIS IS WHY.  We live our lives in front of our children, publicly and privately, in a way that says, “Falling down isn’t shameful, it doesn’t define who we are, it simply provides an opportunity to rise again.  Wiser, more experienced, more prepared, better, stronger.” 

Sometimes that means that we screw up the whole parenting thing.  Ruptured relationships are platforms for repaired relationships.  Sometimes it means I am dishonest —I once had to sing a song in Shona to get away with not having a radio license (I didn’t have any cash in that instance, but there were other times that I did and still didn’t pay.) And have to apologize to my kiddos for not telling the truth. (BUT COME ON PEOPLE, I WOULD LIKE CREDIT FOR THE FACT THAT 2016 is the year of the Chari family radio license.)   Sometimes it means that things we try to accomplish at work, at home, in relationships just fail—and we have to show them that we can get back up again!  Living in a cross-cultural, inter-racial marriage with all the other differences we certainly allows for a lot of getting it wrong! One of the things that our girls know for sure is that the Chari’s are risers.  We have not stated this verbally, but we have shown them time and time again. 

Nyash and I have learned that the most powerful moments we have with our children are the imperfect ones.  We try really hard to implement strategies at home that are going to help them grow into strong, brave, kind women.  However, we are aware that who we are is a more accurate predictor of our children’s success than what we know about parenting.  This is really what attachment rich parenting is about: how we relate, how we engage when we are hurt or struggle or are different. How resilient we are—this is what our children glean from us, just by being ours.  We cannot give our kids what we do not have.   We cannot teach them to be unafraid of failure if we never fail and recover or if we are afraid someone might know that we fail!

Walk, Baby Walk!

If we do not think that we are precious regardless of what is undone, messed up, vulnerable or scary – our kids are going to second guess their preciousness as well.  When I know I am precious, I am free to say “this is who I am. “  Are we placing conditions on preciousness? Prerequisites like success?  There is no room for shame in our home.  I might be a girl who did some bad things and those things brought about feelings of guilt, because I was guilty—the definition of guilty is simply someone who has done something they shouldn’t.  Shame is something else entirely… shame says there is something wrong with ME.  Shame takes away my preciousness.  When we engage with our families we must understand that when we mess up and when they mess up, it doesn’t change who we are—we are still precious people, we have just done something wrong. 

Our kids are willing to fall in front of each other because they have learned how to get back up!  Our kids are willing to get it wrong because we are willing to live with failures out in the open.  Brene Brown says, “With skinned knees and bruised hearts we choose to own our stories of struggle over hiding, hustling and pretending.”     

Our courage comes from facing our failures or shortcoming head on.  The failures we face with honesty are the ones that are unable to define us. 

Beautiful sisters: Hand Holders, Lifter-upers, Cheerleaders. Fallers. Risers.

So here’s to our girls, the one learning to walk and the one learning to ride.  May your heart never fear the fall, may you always find courage to get back up and may you learn at a younger age than your daddy and I did that it’s in the falling and rising that you are made strong.  We love you girls so very much, you are our crowning glory and it is for you that we do not hide.  We are more fearful of you not loving who you are than we are of what others might think of our weaknesses.  Be brave. Be kind. Be you. 

Black History Month #1: This Little Light of Mine

This year, during black history month I am committing to learn and share something new with my kiddos each day.  We started with "This Little Light of Mine."

I grew up singing this song in a basement of Taylor Center Baptist Church in my Aunt Letha's Sunday school class.  It was always one of my favorites although I am not really sure why.  I remember She taught us little hand gestures to go with it and all.

For some reason I had never really learned or paid attention to the fact that this song was one of many that resonated deeply and became a part of the Civil Rights Movement.  I read that the song also found its way into the Civil Rights movement when Fannie Lou Hammer added it to her repertoire with songs like Go Tell it on the Mountain, and We Shall Overcome.  

Vivienne loves music, she has a wide range of favorites (Uptown Funk being one of them) but she loves worship music often raising her tiny arms at church when Mercy leads "Good, Good Father." When we listened to a few versions of this song together she lit up and danced away.  We ended up singing it all evening together and praying that both her and her big sister will always let their light shine. 

I want my kiddos to feel pride in their various shade of brown skin.   I want them to see that although their father is black African and their mother is white American, they will often be considered "African American" by a system that doesn't have a box for them. I want them to know that this adopted heritage is rich and beautiful.  The stories of the strength and fortitude of those who came before them who refused to accept a world that wanted to dim the light of an entire people group is filled with inspiration.

I am going to try to find the time to share a bit about what we are learning here, but for today please enjoy this version of This Little Light of Mine that was sung on David Letterman on his first show after 9/11. 

“Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.” (Matthew 5:16)

$5 an hour $10 a night

Today I was scheduled to share at a women's meeting in a peri-urban, high density neighborhood outside of Harare.  The church that was hosting is still being built, as is most of the neighborhood.  But once a month all the ladies from the (instrumental) Churches of Christ get together for a time of fellowship.  They had decided that they needed to make these meetings a bit more practical and that the topic they wanted covered this month was addictions.  This is how I ended up here. 

When the organizer told me that the ladies would be gathering from the instrumental Churches of Christ, I had a basic understanding of what this meant and why it was important.  A few years ago I would not have! However I had the opportunity before I got married and pregnant, to participate in a masters degree in missional leadership program at Rochester College.  Most of my cohort were pastors from Church of Christ churches and I learned a lot about how big the instrumental vs non-instrumental divide was.  If you love Jesus and serve on the staff at a church, I would highly recommend this program, although I wasn't able to continue because of crazy life situations, it was life changing!

Ok so back to Saturday:
I was drove out to this church, which only took about 40 minutes. However when I turned down the dusty road into Southlea Park, it felt like I was world's away from my neighborhood.  The homes were mostly unfinished, and there was construction taking place everywhere.  The wind was blowing dust all around and there were very few trees.  The hot sun seemed to make everyone who was walking up and down the streets extra tired looking.

As I tried to follow directions to the church a sign on the side of the road caught my eyes:

$5 an hour
$10 a night

Prostitution is illegal in Zimbabwe, although it is rampant.  When I drive down the main road to our home at night, there are ladies standing in groups every few feet waiting to be picked up and often we see car accidents from people who decided to stop with no warning to the cars behind them.  However it shocked me that in a neighborhood in which the houses are not even completed that a lodge would already be built and operating and so blatantly advertising an hourly rate.

When I got to the church the women were so filled with hope and anticipation.  We spoke of addiction and recovery and the questions were all about how they could best help their children and husband's find their way into a life of recovery.  How there is hope for those of us suffering in our addiction and that hope has a name: Jesus.

The despair that I felt as I drove through the neighborhood was so different than the hope I felt as I stood in the church.   

It reminded me of a quote from Desmond Tutu:

Such creativity brings me hope!!

Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.

It is my hope that some of the men and women who are booking this lodge hourly will find their way into the homes or churches of the ladies I met with today.