On a journey...

As we started to sing the Norwegian Christmas song “Mitt hjerte alltid vanker i Jesu føderom” (translation: My heart it always wanders in Jesus’ birthplace”), they took the initiative to stand up and take each others hands. It’s was a powerful moment, and I think that at that point there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Singing of finding home and the blessed Christmas night , a place of such hope and peace and freedom, moved us all. It caught me off guard and I hadn’t expected such vulnerability from these women. Many of them live with a wall built around their hearts as protection from a life which they have experienced as far from safe and kind. Now they find themselves literally behind bars, and yet behind the tough exteriors, are hearts that are still capable of being moved. Moved by being literally overwhelmed by presents and love and the message of value and hope. Moved to maybe, just maybe, believe that they are worth more than what life has communicated to them so far.

As we sat there quietly in the pews of the church, all I could hear was the occasional sniffle. Looking around me there were many faces with red rimmed eyes and tears silently trickling down their cheeks. In the front rows I could see those who were her family, their shoulders weighed down by the sadness of the occasion. The white coffin and flowers surrounding it made it clear that this was a sad sad day. A day to lay to rest a young woman who couldn’t bear to live anymore. Another reminder of the frailty of life, and that for some the pain and chaos of living is just too much. The tables were carefully placed to enable 30 people to sit down for the Christmas dinner. They were decorated with white tablecloths and small vases with red flowers in them. The whole house was filled with the smell of dinner having been lovingly prepared, and the guests were arriving. It was a beautiful evening of constant conversation, laughs, eating and games. A time of community and family, and of cr

As I drove towards the Kruger Mpumalanga International airport, I almost doubted it was an airport. With impalas grazing, and rustic architecture, it definitely gave a different feel to the leaving of a lovely four days in Nelspruit. Getting to the gate I even had to reassure myself that this was indeed the one and only gate in the airport. The flight was uneventful and after a couple of flights and cups of coffee in airports, I finally arrived in Port Elizabeth. I was met by my dear friend who I hadn't seen in 17 years, accompanied by two of her children who were barefoot as seems to be the norm here. It has been an amazing long-weekend here. Hours of chatting and catching up and drinking tea and coffee, while at the same time getting a little glimpse of what their life is like. They run an incredible ministry called Penuel which is basically a children's home or haven for children coming out of very bad situations in Port Elizabeth. Children who are going to be adopted wher

At 5 am the safari jeep picked us up. The weather was misty, and as we drove to the park I was hoping it wouldn't rain (it turned into a lovely day). Arriving there I was so excited, and hoped, just hoped we might get a glimpse of an elephant. It was an amazing day! As soon as we entered the park the first thing we saw were several elephants right next to the road. Needless to say I was busy taking many many photos, which probably became hundreds throughout the day. We saw so many animals up close- many more elephants, giraffes, rhinos, hyenas, wilderbeast and buffalo herds crossing the road, hundreds of impala, kudu, wharthog and hippopotamus and baboon in the distance, monkeys, one with her baby under her stomach, and a lion and a leopard. The lion looked straight at us and walked across the road at such a leisurely pace it was breathtaking. The leopard was hidden beneath a tree and scuffled away after a few minutes, but left enough time for us to photograph it. And the giraffe

After a very peaceful morning, a few of us headed to the mall. Earlier in the morning I had got a message from a dear friend who did the Shine Seminar in Brazil who is from South Africa, and who just happened to be coming to Nelspruit for the day. It was such a treat to get to have coffee with her and her husband, and catch up on life and have a time of fellowship together. I had wanted to see her since we were in the "same" country, but her living 2 hours away I figured it wouldn't be possible. She is such an amazing woman of God who is really making a difference by reaching out to and loving the women in prostitution in her area. In the evening our hosts made us a South African braaii, which is a barbeque. It was fascinating to watch the grill they use, and we got to taste braiibread, some special sausage, special marinated meat, pap (maize starch thing), and milk tart for dessert. A true taste of South Africa. That combined with lovely company made it a great ending t

After getting up before dawn, we got on a Greyhound bus headed to Nelspruit in South Africa. It was a surprisingly comfortable journey, sitting in huge comfy seats watching the landscape as we drove past. Mid-way we had to get off the bus to pass through the border. We literally had to walk across the border which made the reality of crossing from one country to another a lot more real than when going through immigration at an airport. The weather was warm and nice and on arrival in Nelspruit we were picked up by our host of Duiker's Den, the cottage we would be renting for the days we are here. The cottage is lovely. And the property it's on is beautiful. Amazing views and places to go for lovely walks. And even a bit of wildlife in the form of colourful birds, deer and other animals. That combined with a deep sense of peace makes it the perfect place for some days of just resting and reflecting on what the past week has held. The hosts are lovely and so hospitable, and I thi

As I got up I was aware that this was my final day in Mozambique. I wanted to make the most of the day and wanted to make sure I didn't miss out on any opportunities. I put on my nice skirt and top and headed to church. This Sunday there was a lot of dancing and singing, and I sat next to some children who had come in from the Bocaria. The base sends a bus to the area each Sunday to bring those who want to come to the service. The children were radiant with joy, and it really blessed my heart to interact with them. I danced with the one next to me, and even if I don't know if they understand Portuguese, we communicated. What a privilege to get to share the worship time with them. Before the sermon those who were leaving were invited up to the front, and they laid a capulana (skirt fabric) over our shoulders and prayed for us. I had some very eager 4-8 year olds come crashing into me to pray, and it was such a lovely moment. After that my friend Melissa preached, and we got to

Driving towards town I was looking forward to a different day. Having seen the less good sides of the city and learnt about some of the deep challenges, it was exciting to also get to see some of the beauty and the positive parts of this place. After a few stops to take photos of the beach and sea, we arrived at the crafts market. A market in an organised area designed to meet any and all needs for souvenirs a tourist might have. There was so much stuff and very persistent vendors who kept calling me "amiga Brasileira" because of my accent. I found many lovely things, and left wishing I had brought more cash, while at the same time thankful that I didn't. I'd rather spend money sowing into people then stuff. But it was great to see the beautiful crafts in wood and fabric that these skilled people had made. A beautiful expression of their culture. It was a real treat to sit down at a table with a white table cloth for lunch. I had a seafood kebab with prawns and squi

After meeting some of the faithful men and women and children in the small concrete church room, we were ready to head to the top of Bocaria. Standing at the bottom it didn't seem like it would be too hard of a climb, and watching people going up and down with large packs of plastic bottles on their heads, we were sure it would be fine. Climbing up was a little more challenging, especially as you constantly had to watch your step to prevent stepping on a sharp piece of glass or in other things. The path up was well trodden and after not too much trouble we reached the top. I don't think any description could prepare me for the sight that met us as we stepped onto the top of the largest rubbish dump in the city. There was rubbish as far as the eye could see. In the distance the rubbish trucks were off-loading and surrounded by people eager to see if they could find something that could be of value or use. There were quite a few people up there, and small fires scattered around.

My heart is full. It's funny how even if you change where you live and the people you work with, your heart remains the same. And today was yet another reminder of that. We just got back from visiting an amazing ministry in this city called "Project Purpose". It focuses on reaching out to women in prostitution, their children, preventing prostition, and the area of human trafficking. And yet their main focus is Jesus. The fact that He brings freedom and restoration and that lives truly can be transformed, and they are. It was heart-breaking to hear the reality of the women on the streets in this place. Heart-breaking to hear a little bit of the horrors some of them go through. Heart-breaking to hear of how young children sell their bodies for a can of coke and some bread. Hearing only a tiny fragment of this reality is more than enough to make anyone loose hope in there ever being change. The web of prostitution and human trafficking is so great and seemingly impossible

Every day is full of the new here. I suppose that's to be expected when arriving in a completely new nation, where each day contains yet another layer to discover. The morning was spent just hanging out with the children in the playground. It was a joy to watch them be just that- children- playing daring games on the various playground equipment which when built was guaranteed for 5 years, and was partially worn out after mere months. I imagine it was designed for lighter treatment than it received heree. And yet no-one seems to mind the lack of swings and other hanging things. There is always the plastic bottle lid and a piece of string which provide endless opportunities for creating new toys. In the afternoon Melissa (who used to work here) and I got ready to head into the city. Despite being very white and clearly foreign, we were embracing the adventure of travelling on the local chapas, little busses that pile people in till they are bursting and provide local transportati

No day is the same here. After getting up early (which seems to be what I do here), and eating breakfast which was bread with butter (accompanied by an amazing cup of coffee given me by an American friend), I headed to the prayer room for children's prayer. This is a prayer time where the children come voluntarily to pray before school on Tuesdays and Fridays. Entering the room I was so impressed by how it was full of children eager to pray. There were probably 60 or 70 children there, and it was amazing to see one after the other choose to pray for their families and people who are sick, and other subjects on their little hearts. It was so great and an experience that I will carry with me for a long time. After prayer it was "Shoprite" time, which meant piling into a bus with other visitors and missionaries for the weekly shopping trip. I didn't quite know what to expect, but I had a few items to buy and hoped it would be a stress-free experience. As we drove along

After drinking a cup of very sweet hot tea, and eating half a loaf of Mozambican bread, I headed to the dorm with the boys aged 8-18 to help assemble a donated trampoline. The boys were at school, and once it was put together we thought out all the possible ways these boys would think of to use the newly acquired plaything. After a lot of thinking we figured that chaining it to a neighbouring tree would be the best strategy for storing it when not in use.  And we hoped that the boys would not destroy it too soon as these are 25 active boys at an age where "careful" isn't part of their vocabulary. Then it was time for staff worship. I walked over to the prayer hut area with an amazing British missionary who works with donations, feeding poor families, and has a ministry to widows. We had a great chat and her being from Devon, I got to share my appreciation of clotted cream. At the prayer hut, staff worship was starting; a time when Mozambican staff and missionaries come

Stepping into the large church hall which doubles as a dining room (blue benches for eating, cream benches for church), I was met by the sight of hundreds of children and some adults filling the many benches. All were dressed in their best as church is the main even of the week. I sat down next to some ladies on a bench. Friendly smiles and some hugs and kisses greeted me and it was clear to see that this was a day of joy that they had been looking forward to. Behind me a small lady with a huge smile and a worn face sat down with three little children. They're clothes were well-worn but made so very beautiful by the beautiful little persons wearing them. As it neared the time of the church starting more and more people filed in. Children and staff from the base but also many many from the community nearby. I sat next to some teenage boys who look 11 but are 14-15 year old. Very sweet but also smart and they were constantly trying to fiddle with my pen and Bible and it brought ba

The wonderful warm air that greeted me as I stepped off the plane, paired with the many signs in Portuguese, gave me an immediate sense of home. At home in a country I have never been before , and the familiarity of language and climate making it a very smooth literal entry into the nation of Mozambique. After going through immigration and luggage pick up in record time, I was greeted by two young men with the Ministerio Arco Iris sign waiting to pick me up. We had a fun drive to the base on busy roads. As we were driving along I was trying to take it all in. Trying to store in my memory the image of the man walking along train tracks with a bunch of stuff around his neck, and the sight of worn plastic waving in the wind from one of the makeshift roofs. Goats grazing by a house corner, and literally anything you can imagine being sold from small stalls everywhere on the pavement. Women in beautiful patterned skirts and blouses, and the men mostly with long trousers and closed shoes. I

And so it has begun. After months of anticipation and preparation I am well on my way. I am typing this at the airport in Johannesburg as I sip a latte in a very tall glass, and enjoy some lovely french toast with Maple syrup and bacon. My view is of the runway and is a reminder of how airports connect the nations. This is not my first time at this airport. 20 years ago when I was 20 I had a layover here travelling back from visiting friends in Zimbabwe. There was a strike with the company I was flying with and so instead of a direct flight from Harare to London, I had to fly via Johannesburg. I remember how nervous I was, wondering how I would figure out the whole changing planes thing, and remember finding it all quite an ordeal despite being upgraded to business class (which at that time meant sitting next to a chain-smoking gentleman and with the entertainment system not working for the whole very long flight). Looking back I see how much things have changed. How much I have chang

In a month I will be in Africa. It seems very random, and in a way it is. Yet it’s also a trip that has been in my heart for some years, and materialising for some months. And it seems like a huge endeavour, and yet it’s only for two weeks. So in the big scheme of things, just small moment of time, which I anticipate will be packed with many impressions that will leave their mark for a lifetime. I’ve had the desire to go to Mozambique for a while now. Ever since I realised it was a Portuguese speaking country, and heard about the amazing work of Iris Ministries, my interest has been stirred. In Kansas City I had a neighbour (now good friend) who had lived there, and when she shared at the start of the year she was heading back for a trip I wondered if I should go. And decided not to. Life was full of enough things to deal with, and trying to figure out finances and holiday from work was just too much to consider. But a seed was sown in my heart, and as I got updates from h

“I am going to keep it as a memory.” It struck my heart. We’d just finished decorating glass jars with serviettes using the decoupage technique, and as we were waiting for the glue-varnish to dry we talked about what we would do with our creations. One said she was going to put chocolate in it, another said she might give it to her daughter; it was a light and happy conversation. And then one said quietly that she would keep the decorated jar as a memory. Her comment moved me and remained with me. I realised that to her this evening meant more than I’d realised. It was good to be reminded of the importance of what might seem insignificant. And it moved me that through a simple evening we could create a moment that was worth remembering. And that’s what part of life is about. It’s about creating memories; good memories that are worth being reminded of. And sometimes it’s not bad to hold on to objects that are “worthless” in the eyes of those around us, when they hold value to

I am surrounded by boxes and bags as I sit here on the navy blue sofa in a small cleared space in my living room. A large wardrobe is stood a little to the side, ready to get picked up; and by the television there is a collection of wires and boxes. There is a gas-fire that brings a comfortable warmth to an otherwise very grey and dull day. I moved into my new flat yesterday. My arms are telling me their muscles were used as I carried numerous boxes and furniture, and breakfast this morning included a bit of a treasure hunt to find a bowl, spoon, and box of Weetabix somewhere in the mountain of stuff. Moving brings back memories and reminds me of years gone by. So many moves... Leeds, Fortaleza, Plymouth, Kansas City, Amsterdam... all cities which were home for different seasons in my life. Specific moving memories popping into my mind as I have been packing and thinking and writing... 1995 when I stood with my luggage ready to get the ferry to Newcastle, England, only 19