threshold

I haven’t written a blog in a long time. A long, long time. While I have various reasons or excuses, it ultimately comes down to me not having anything interesting to say.

When I first came to Mozambique, I had high hopes that I would have super exciting and thrilling adventures and take lots of cool pictures and share lots of awesome stories. And then I would capture all of these tales on my blog. I certainly had story-rich, adrenaline-filled days.

But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks quickly turned into years, I realized that I was just simply living my life. What started out as “I can’t believe…” or “my first time doing…” gradually just turned into life. And I discovered that I was learning to live life all over again.

I’ve learned how to function in a different country. I’ve learned how to adapt to different cultures. I’ve learned how to cook kale. I’ve learned how to make friends in the biggest city I’ve ever lived in. I’ve learned how to vacation alone in other countries. I’ve learned how to drive in absurd traffic. I’ve learned different ways to measure success. I’ve learned vocabulary for wedding receptions in Portuguese. I’ve learned how to live with a boy. I’ve learned how to grieve. I’ve learned skills I never knew I had. I’ve learned that pistols can be turned into peace signs. I’ve learned how to orient and walk alongside people new to Mozambique. I’ve learned not to take hot running water or wireless Internet for granted. I’ve learned to slow down. I’ve learned how to be part of a new family. I’ve learned how to not just live, but to thrive.

MCC was the reason that I came to Mozambique four years ago. I highly doubt I ever would have come here if it wasn’t for MCC. But I think that in all of these lessons, God was preparing me to be able to stand on my own two feet, apart from the loving care of MCC Mozambique. MCC gave me a vast collection of experiences and lessons learned, and for that I am truly grateful.

Today marks the end of my four years of serving with MCC. In exactly a week, I’ll begin my time at the American International School of Mozambique where I’ll be a teaching assistant for grade five. But I know that despite being expected to help teach, I’ll be doing a lot more learning in this next year.

My boss described this time as a threshold. I really like the imagery of being on the brink between two great opportunities. It’s not that the door is closing on MCC, or that there’s greener pastures in some other job. I’m not anxious to move on, nor am I clinging to memories of the last four years. I’m also not in some transient abyss where I feel lost and confused.

Instead, I have great peace. MCC taught me what peace in action looks like. Mozambique has taught me what expectant hope looks like. So as I’m in the threshold, I simply take the next step. 

bouncy hearts

A few weeks ago, while recovering from my foot incident, I attempted to catch up on the sermons that I've been missing from the church I've attended in the last few years. While I am still many weeks behind in the online sermon archive, I listened to a message from early September that felt just as real as if it was spoken just for me right then and there. Since then, the message has kinda been stalking me, and creeping into my mind throughout the emotional roller coaster of my past few weeks.

This particular sermon of interest was starting off a short series on the book of Ezekiel, which seeks to capture all of the joys and obscurities of this random prophetic Old Testament book. By the time the story reaches Ezekiel 11, the Israelites have been driven off of their promised land and are left displaced and posession-less in the territory of their oppressor. Up until this point, the book has been one bummer after another, and the Israelites are pretty much at the end of their luck. Then, all of a sudden, God bursts into the situation and says, “Although I sent them far away among the nations and scattered them among the countries, yet for a little while I have been a sanctuary for them in the countries where they have gone...I will give them an undivided heart and put a new spirit in them; I will remove from them their heart of stone and give them a heart of flesh.” [Ezekiel 11:16, 19].

I'm really struck by the inclusive language that God uses here. It's not just “I'm going to do stuff for you individually,” but instead, “you're all going to be in this together.” And he's not just like, “Well, have a a nice trip as I fling you to different corners of the world,” but instead, “hey, I'll be there too and make sure you have what you need.” When it comes to hearts of flesh instead of stone, God promises not to remove the hard, disappointing, gross, depressing or painful parts of our lives, but rather equip us with what we need to make it through. It seems counter-intuitive that something soft and cushy would be tougher than what's solid and hard. But my pastor pointed out that we need hearts that are rubbery and maliable, so that they'll bounce back after God throws us into challenging situations...like being scattered among the countries.

My pastor described that when God talks about giving his people an “undivided heart,” he really means creating a community with one unified vision. This struck me after all the work that my MCC team here is Mozambique has been doing lately. Much of our tangible work and energy has been spent on creating vision statements, articulating our mission and outlining what it will take to get ourselves and our partner organizations to where we want to be. But then I started thinking again about the earlier point of the need for fleshy hearts and flexible characters when it comes to all these new challenges. As I started thinking about the past two months, I'm realizing all of the ways that we've been emotionally and physically tossed around. Since this time in August, we've had MCC Moz team members with homesickness and stomach sickness, fevers and sunburns. There have been rolled ankles, broken fingers, bruises and cuts. We've shared clinic visits, emotional breakdowns, prayers and the worries following a nighttime fainting spell and a closed head injury. But at the same time, we're all miraculously still here. The canoes didn't tip over, the chapas didn't crash, the planes worked as they were supposed to and the cars got us home in one piece. And through it all, we're together, unified in the realization that this work isn't easy, that the food isn't always good, that we have more nagging questions than relieving answers and that we're all at various levels of emotional disarray. But at least it's not just my heart bouncing around or my solitary feeling of displacement. God's doing a lot of work here, and I have quite the sneaky suspicion that he's starting by making our hearts just a little more squishy.

add it to the list

It's been a crazy past few days. After doing much traveling in the past weeks, I was looking forward to getting back to my routine, host family and work. Friday morning began as any typical work day as I stood by the side of the main road waiting for a bus into the city, and then kept waiting as the bus I caught slowly made its way through the heinous Maputo morning traffic. I was lucky enough to be able to sit down during the ride, and although this meant sitting in the direct sunlight for two and a half hours, I was trying to stay upbeat. When I got closer to my bus stop in the city, I decided to climb over all the bags, seats, children and legs that were between me and the door so I would be ready when my stop came. What began as one big stride over some baggage ended with me crumpled on top of my twisted foot. Apparently the floor wasn't as stable as I thought. This now tops the list of Ways Katie Gets Hurt When She's Clumsy.

I hobbled my way to work, trying to maintain my composure amidst the pain and worry that I had further messed up my bad ankle. Once I arrived at CCM, Jenny, my MCC colleague, was there to hear of my accident, my awful morning, my frustrations and my general emotional havoc. As the morning went on and my pain worsened, we decided to make our way over to the private clinic to check out my foot and ankle situation. After five hours, four x-rays and three snack crackers, we ended up with two different doctors, diagnoses and disgruntled Americans. The first doctor looked at the x-rays and concluded that nothing was broken, but a bone was just displaced. However, she recommended that we wait for the opinion of the second doctor who would be there in 15 minutes. Two and a half hours later, the second doctor arrived, stating that it was merely a sprain, the bones were fine and a simple bandage cast would be fine. In the end, I was given a full plaster of Paris cast and felt much more discomfort with my cast and unanswered questions than feeling like the visit was worth all the trouble.


By the end of Friday, I had many new additions for my list of Frustrations. I was hungry, tired, annoyed, inconvenienced, sore and generally quite negative. I was frustrated that my host family didn't seem to care that I was hurt and that instead the burden of taking care of me unfairly fell upon Jenny. I was annoyed with how much money and resources it took for such a dumb thing as a twisted ankle and that we still needed to buy me a crutch as well. And I felt awful for taking up so much of Jenny and Joél's time as they were trying to prepare for leaving on vacation the next day.

But by the next morning, I realized that all of my negativity had been really short-sighted. With the morning light came a new perspective that things weren't as bad as I had made them out to be. I cast aside dwelling on my lists of angering and frustrating things, and instead chose to add to my lists of Things To Be Grateful For and New Experiences. To the latter list, I can now add the experiences of Mozambican health care, learning to coordinate walking with a crutch and creatively showering when only one foot can get wet. I'm truly grateful that the injury isn't worse, that I have incredible coworkers who go above and beyond the titles of colleagues and friends, that I have an amazing MCC team here who prays for me and sends me encouraging texts and emails, and that I can recuperate at Joél and Jenny's apartment instead of commuting from Matola. I'm thankful for the little things like a ride to Sunday night fellowship, the luxury of Skype-ing with family and for fresh air on the roof where I can watch the Maputo skyline. Yeah, it's a bummer that my foot is hurting, but at least I now that I will be just fine.

vision

The past month has been really challenging. Acclimating to a new language, culture, set of bacteria and cuisine has been more difficult than I expected. I've begun to read 2 Corinthians 4:8 in a whole new way. I may not be crushed, but I've certainly felt pressed as my four to five hour daily commute has literally jammed me in various forms of public Mozambican transportation. I was certainly perplexed and tempted by despair as riots in Maputo kept me in a confused state of house arrest for five days. Barriers of language, skin color and customs made me feel lonely, and sometimes I struggled to remember that I'm not abandoned. And after being bruised, bloodied, muddied, stubbed, and generally struck down (just in my walk to work alone), much of my patience and energy has been destroyed. But God has continued to remind me that my increasingly fracturing clay jar only leaves more room for him to fill in my ever-expanding weaknesses and inadequacies. Lately, I'm learning a lot about vision—not only in the act of seeing, but also in recalibrating my perspective.

Physically and tangibly, I've stopped taking many things for granted. Transportation, time, family, friends, running water, conversations, soap and vegetables all mean something different to me after being here. Health has also cut into my altering perspectives, as a few days of pink eye renewed my gratefulness for the ability to have vision. Additionally, stumbling back to my host family's house—a treacherous 12 minute walk from the paved main road—in the utter blackness of the bush after a long day in the city makes me super thankful for the sight aids of cell phones and mini flashlights.


Before I came to Mozambique, I had a vision for what my host family and living situation would be like. I live with my new mami, Dona Monica, and her four daughters. Our house is in Matola, a “suburb” of Maputo, located southwest of the city. The road we take into the city is the same that directs traffic into South Africa and/or Swaziland. The family's husband and father passed away last year, but people are never scarce in this house. Grandma, a nephew, friends and grandchildren keep the house bubbling with Portuguese discourse, Changari orders, and in-human shrieks, just for the sake of noise. The family is loud, welcoming and filthy rich. Wine bottles clutter the main sitting room, a china and gold laden table constantly remains set in the dining room, (at least) three kitchens create a maze when trying to locate anyone, and multiple cars crowd the long brick driveway. Needless to say, it turned out to be a bit different in reality than in my imagination. My vision did not include an upper class family, the luxury of having food but choosing not to eat or the daily passing of slums to arrive at a mansion in the middle of nowhere. But my new vision is slowly changing to incorporate the reality of class divide and the existence of affluent Mozambicans. As my MCC coworker Stephen said a few weeks back, “One day this will all seem normal, but today is not that day.” I'm still waiting for that day to come.


But despite the challenges of changing my perspectives, I've also experienced the excitement of gaining a new overarching vision. I've spent the last week in Beira with the entire MCC Mozambique team for a retreat. It took us Maputo residents 16 hours to get here, but I've greatly enjoyed learning more about the country, my coworkers and our joint vision for our MCC programs. Through our meetings, frustrations have been aired, joys have been shared, friendships have been solidified, many games have been played and serious strategic planning has taken place. In the last two weeks, my colleges in the sustainable agriculture and water (ASA) program of CCM have chartered our vision, mission and objectives for the next three years, as well as how they fit into MCC's work in Mozambique. Being the development geek that I am, I've been thrilled in discovering our collective mission, as well as my contribution toward it. Our team has articulated that MCC Mozambique seeks to follow the teachings of Jesus through healthy, sovereign partnerships to nurture just, abundant life in the areas of water, food security, education, peace and HIV/AIDS awareness. I'm so excited to be a part of a group that shares my passions, goals and drive, and I'm anxious to watch our Spirit-led vision unfold in our attempt to bring a little heaven to this corner of the earth. And I'm also glad to finally watch my preoccupied short-sightedness wither away in the light of a new vision.

stories

This video was shown to us as part of our training and orientation. I wanted to pass it on as another perspective that I hope will help me wrap my mind around all that I will see, hear and experience throughout my SALT year. The video is a little lengthy, so get comfy and take the time to watch and listen.

Chimamanda Adichie: The danger of a single story | Video on TED.com

colorful

Even thought I've only been in training for a few days, I already feel a small world away. This is mostly because a majority of the world has been brought to MCC this week. In my training, I'm joined with 60 other SALT-ers, as well as young adults from other countries--either serving abroad or in North America through two other MCC service-based programs. When all of us (about 80 total) are together in a room, it's as if a mini United Nations has been plopped into tiny Akron, PA. Along with valuable MCC-led workshops and orientation sessions, I've learned multiple handshakes from Zimbabwe, songs in Swahili, Chinese recipes and how to sing the colors of the Brazilian flag in Portuguese. I often feel socially overwhelmed from the expansive catalog of names, faces and placements that I've just jammed into my head, but it has been wonderful meeting the people here. We've laughed about melanin, teased about accents and marveled in variance. Never before in my experiences have the joys and challenges of diversity been so apparent in one situation.

This multiculturalism is represented in our living arrangements as well. We all live on or near the MCC headquarters campus, where there are five "houses" that represent different continents and regions. I'm living in the Africa house, but I really feel as though I'm living in a fair trade Ten Thousand Villages store (http://www.tenthousandvillages.com/). From furniture to bedspreads, common African heritage and art forms are represented. These organic-feeling houses even have washers, calming the fears that I'll be hand-washing my clothes while in training!

A common theme of this orientation, besides multinationalism, is an acculturation to MCC and who we are within the organization. Being at the MCC headquarters is such a dream come true for me, and I feel so honored to be so graciously welcomed into the MCC family. We've matched the key MCC values of peace, development and relief with our own, and I'm deeply comforted in remembering that this is exactly when and where I'm supposed to be. I'm reminded of why I love MCC and it's work, as well as how perfectly my position is set to compliment and enhance my past experiences. I'm realizing just how colorful the world really is in all of its beauty and complexity, and I'm thrilled to be able to taste, smell, see, hear and feel the interconnectivity of all who are here and what this community represents.