The world is FULL of beautiful stories.
I wonder if you’ve watched one too many news reports lately about hateful injustice and starving children and crashing economies that the beautiful stories, the ones about hope and redemption, have over time been shoved into the back of your mind...
I wonder if in the midst of all the busyness and schedules surrounding your everyday life- the early morning traffic jams, business meetings, and grocery lists, you ever slow down long enough to remember that there’s more to the world than the immediate circle of things around you...
I wonder when the last time was that you heard a really beautiful story. Maybe it was a story filled with the kind of passion that lights a fire in your bones, or love that helps you believe again, or faith that inspires you…I wonder when was the last time?
Because there is no shortage of stories are being told all around us. Newspaper headlines update us on the latest in presidential campaigns, Hollywood tells stories of happily ever after, and magazines keep us up to date with fresh celebrity gossip. But surely there’s more out there than elections and fairytales and celebrities…
What about this sweet man Dulce
living in a mountain village of the Dominican Republic?
He has no electricity and no running water.
He knows nothing of the outside world.
Nobody really knows his village exists.
But the lines on his face and his dirt-covered hands
tell powerful stories of years on the farm and living off the land.
Who will tell his stories?
And what about the Caminul Felix organization in Romania?
Where kids who’ve been orphaned or abandoned
are not sent to multiple foster families.
Instead, they are given one real family for life.
They take kids with backgrounds of abuse and neglect
and give them a future of hope and love.
Someone really needs to be telling their stories…
Or what about Old Man August
living in the bush of Guija, Mozambique?
He’s known as the “man who slithers”
because he is paralyzed from the waist down.
His home is no bigger than a 10x10 square.
His walls are made from tarps with a tin roof.
All day long he just lays on his dirt floor.
None of his family lives near
and they don’t come to visit him.
When Tienie found him,
he was only eating a few times a week
because he can’t cook for himself
and there was no one to bring him food.
Now Tienie brings food to a woman
who then cooks meals for him every day.
He was recently blessed with
his first pedicure and new clothes.
Now HE has a story to tell…
What about Rosa and her 3 brothers and sisters?
Their mom and dad both died of AIDS
so they went to live with their aunt,
who then also died of AIDS.
Then they went to live with their grandma.
She died of AIDS as well.
The 4 children now live alone in a small house.
A neighbor checks on them every once in a while.
I wonder what could happen if more people knew this story…
Hundreds of kids leave care points every day fed and loved here in Swaziland.
Buckets of concrete was poured for a new earthquake proof school in Haiti.
Blind eyes were healed and deaf ears opened at a crusade in the DR.
A lonely man confined to his home in Transnisteria had visitors for dinner.
An abandoned church was brought back to life in the DR.
Hundreds of vaccinations and free eye exams were given in Moldova.
Dozens of leaders were trained and baptized in Zimbabwe.
THESE are the stories we desperately want the world to hear!
But the thing about good stories is that sometimes, in order to find them, you have to get your hands dirty. You have to let go, and sacrifice some things, and things can get uncomfortable. You have to go into the dark places and shine your Light.
For 6 months, the men and women of C squad have been blessed to travel into different nations and serve the least, the last and the lost. We’ve witnessed the love of Jesus absolutely transform lives. We’ve fed the hungry, held orphans, and prayed for the sick. We are SO thankful for the opportunity to serve God in this way!
BUT, we need your help. The final deadline for funding is July 1st and some of the squad still needs money or else they’ll be sent home and can’t continue this journey with us.
Please consider praying about donating to help them stay out on the field.
There are more people out there like Old Man August that just need a warm meal and some company. There are more organizations like Caminul Felix that just need hands and feet to come alongside and help play with the kids. And there are more orphans like Rosa that desperately need to hear about a Father that sees them and loves them. You are just as much a part of these stories as we are!
And our world really needs to hear more beautiful stories.
Will you help us continue to tell them?
JANELLE RADEMAKER
still needs $3,600
RACHEL WILLIAMS
still needs $2,825
BRETT MCCONNELL
still needs $2,692
JESSE MORRIS
still needs 2,600
DANIA SPILLETT
still needs $450
MATT BLAIR
still needs $1,700
TYLER HAMILTON
still needs $950
CANDICE YATES
still needs $1,659
KEELEY JACKSON
still needs $1,622
Sawubona!
Welcome to Swaziland.
Month 6 of the World Race.
Halfway done.
Weird.
Things I never expect: anything that happens to me on this psycho crazy mission trip.
Instead of living in the middle of a lion-infested mud hut village with only sour porridge to sooth my hunger pains, all 26 of the C squad women are residing in a big house in the middle of Manzini, Swazi(Fancy)Land, with nearly every modern convenience at our disposal. Almost everyone here speaks English, so communication is typically much smoother than we’re used to. In fact, it’s easy to forget I’m in Africa at all, especially that day I walked into the nearby Nazarene church wearing my Mozambican capulana and found myself surrounded by Swazis donning contemporary church clothes and even (gasp!) jeans.
Speaking of Nazarenes, I ran into Evan and Andrea Mosshart, the onsite coordinators for The Swaziland Partnership, a ministry founded by my home church. It was fun to get a little breath of Oklahoma fresh air as we chatted about mutual friends and various happenings at BFC. They invited me and two squadmates over for a Bible study at their apartment, which included homemade chocolate chip cookies and introductions to a South African named Tracie, Australian named Rachael, and another American named Alexa. We sang a traditional African song in four different languages, prayed for Michelle to get fully funded, and heard about how depending on God for everyday needs during a two-month road trip across the continent actually works out. Michelle, of course, learned that she had raised her remaining $3,200 the following morning. Delicious, multicultural, inspiring. 
Alexa had mentioned she may be interested in going on the Race once she finished college, so we invited her and Rachael over for dinner the following weekend to meet the girls and learn about all things World Race. As we shared about our experiences on the Race, Rachael shared incredible stories about the children she works with at New Hope Centre, an orphanage here in Manzini. One 2-year-old girl had been orphaned by three different sets of family members and was the size of a newborn infant when she was brought to NHC. Having been moved around and transferred to different villages so many times, her last name became a mystery, meaning that she had no true identity in Swazi culture. X-rays revealed that she had been eating dirt and gravel to stay alive and was so malnourished that she should have been severely handicapped. She is now a joyful, thriving eight-year-old who preaches like nobody’s business. So many other stories. So much redemption.
Our God is good.
Having said all that, no fear: we do ministry, too.
Most of our females are divvied up among four different care points in the area to teach preschool and serve food to kids from the community. 
A typical day in the life:
Show up to the care point between 9 and 10am
Get greeted by a thousand screaming 4- to 6-year-olds.
Say hello to the teachers and cooks we have come to know and love.
Teach/assist in the classrooms as the kids recite Bible verses and color in their workbooks.
Play with them on the playground and/or hang out with the teachers.
Dish out a lunch of either porridge and beans or rice and veggies.
Lead a Bible club meeting afterwards (Wednesdays and Fridays only).
Dish out more food to the kids who show up for Bible club.
Go home and collapse.
Repeat.
It’s exhausting, but it’s gotten more fun as we’ve gotten to know the kids better. They’re becoming pros at singing and motioning songs like “I’ve Got a River of Life,” “Rock, Sword, Shield” (yes, the Echo Ranch Bible Camp one!), and “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes.” Since their actual names are almost impossible to pronounce, some have received nicknames like Curious George, Bully, Denzel Washington, and Cookie Monster. They just call us “Teachah!”
It’s (Wo)Manistry month, so the boys are off somewhere in the mountains of Mbabane doing construction at El Shaddai.
Other goings-on:
Safari.
Pants.
Hannah’s birthday.
Down time.Thank you all for the continual thoughts, prayers, love, encouragement, financial donations... Everything. I am almost officially fully funded, and I can't wait to post my third "favorite blog to write" to announce it! Please continue praying for my squad as we finish up ministry this month, meet for our month 6 debrief, and head to South Africa next month along with our World Race Exposure students. Thanks!
UPDATE: I'm fully funded! Praise God! I couldn't be here without you. Thank you so much for your willingness to give!
His feet were all I could think about.
It was a rough day, the first time I met Old Man August. My team was trudging through another village, going door to door, visiting with people and praying over them. I was feeling frustrated and overwhelmed by the need all around and my complete inability to do anything but ask God for miracles. All I wanted to do was block it out. Distract myself. Just give me some kids to hang out with. Let me bask in their blissful ignorance of their material destitution. I’ll carry them around and take their pictures and let them wear my sunglasses, just please don’t make me meet any more people I can’t fix today.
Tienie told us that August was a man who slithers, having lost the use of his legs after having a stroke some time ago. We showed up to a house that was really just a tiny, rundown shack of a structure, with a door that did little to create a sense of privacy. When we opened it, we found an old, worn man who was all smiles. His home contained a yellow water jug, clothesline, stool, red wash bucket, and various other items strewn about the dirt floor. As I studied him while he lay on a blanket on the ground, I immediately noticed his toenails. They were yellowy, thick, and long, wrapping around the tips of his toes. The wonder of why no one took care of this poor man’s feet haunted my mind as I pictured my own hands cradling his heels. No to that, Jesus. Gross.
But the thoughts persisted, the conviction grew, and my lots casting (coin flip) app said tails. I’ve never been one to say I’ve often heard the voice of God or always know what His will is, but on the day we returned to visit a person of our choice, I decided that maybe this time I had an idea.
I broke the news to Rachel on the way there.
“So, you don't have to feel pressured to do this with me – you are more than welcome to just sit and talk with him – but I think God wants me to clean Old Man August's feet.”
Rahela, full of both kindness and experience (“My dad has always had back problems, so I’ve been clipping his toenails pretty much since before I could walk”), decided to go all in with me. So we set out, baby wipes and nail clippers in hand, ready to give Shrek a pedicure.
Our translator Silverton guided us through the Mozambican wilderness to where the old man resided. After he cleared our proposal with August, we sat down and got to work. Rachel camped out near his head, asking him questions about his family and past profession and all things get-to-know.
As she went on to manicure his fingernails while sharing almost-true stories about the Samaritan woman at the well, I began washing August’s feet. I felt very much like Jesus, as He used a rag and basin to clean the muck and mire off the feet of His disciples. With a bar of soap, toenail clippers, and a shirt from his dirty clothes, I cleaned out the gunk in between his toes and underneath months and months of nail growth. Clip, clean, clip, clean. How many kids do you have? Clip, clean. Where are they now? Clip, clean.
With one foot down and one to go, Rachel and I decided to switch. I began massaging the old man’s hands and asking more questions about his past life. He loved to dance. He used to sell cigarettes for a living. His kids and grandkids visit him sometimes. He likes that.
It couldn’t have been the most comfortable situation for him, but August couldn’t have been more grateful. “Kalimambo, kalimambo!” resounded as we took pictures and gave him hugs and said our farewells. Walking away, I knew we had done a good thing. The right thing. The thing we were called to do.
Not that I was expecting a reward, but it sure was kind of Jesus to have a random Mozambican woman, after only about five minutes of introductions, invite us into her well-furnished home for (lots of) ugali and spaghetti. As she poured water over our hands into a bowl and offered a small towel to dry them, Rachel remarked at how interesting it was that we just finished washing someone’s feet, and now someone else was washing our hands.
And maybe that’s how it’s supposed to work in the Body: we all just serve each other with what we’ve got. I have hands, so I’ll clean your feet while you encourage me with your mouth. And we’ll make a mess of it all sometimes, and we can expect that the ball will get dropped somewhere, and we will never be enough, because we’re a broken body; we aren’t whole yet. So we work diligently with our hands or our eyes or our elbows, loving each other the best way we can, trusting that He will make all things new… someday.
He will make us whole.
And we will be quite a sight to behold.
Come quickly, Lord Jesus.
Dear Readers and Supporters, I still need to raise $1,485 by July 1st to be fully funded for The World Race. If I don’t meet the deadline, I will go home. Will you partner with me in this ministry by donating toward my support account? Just click the SUPPORT ME! link in the list on the top left side of the page!
