When Time Stands Still.

I’m bored. It’s been a….slow day and it’s now evening and I’m now in the mood to be productive. However, TIA (This Is Africa.) Once it’s dark it’s “dangerous” and as a young lady with pretty pale skin, I’m sorta under house arrest. Bah.

So I’m plotting. (Something I seem to do whenever I have too much time on my hands) How can I change the world? Jesus, what are your dreams for the brothels... for the street kids, for the widows? What do you want to do and how can I do that with you?

My latest schemes fall back to the commercial sex workers on the coast. How can we get them more jobs? How can we support them, lifting up their arms so they can fulfill their dreams? We’re hoping to partner with this organization that teaches salon. Lots of the girls really like doing hair and nails so it’d be perfect. BUT let’s go a step further, how can we take the girls working the sex market, and give them an opportunity to really make a difference to their community? What would that look like? So I’m dreaming and because I’m bored I’m going to verbally process those dreams in a blog. Haha. So bare with me.

If they’re going to have a salon, let’s make it the best salon. But how? If they’re going to sell chickens (what we’re hoping to do next) how can we have it so successful that the city says: “Man, I’m so glad your business opened up! I can’t even remember what we did before you.” Haha! I know. But these are my thoughts. My prayers I guess. I have a couple answers but I’ll throw it out to you guys, any ideas? What do you think?

In Congo we bought bags of charcoal (cause they do all their cooking over hot coals) and gave it to the widows. Now they go around selling it and are able to make a steady income to feed themselves and their families. They’re not relying on handouts they’re self sufficient, it’s great. But what else? How can we add to the quality of life to the people in war zones? Often becoming a widow can be almost like a death sentence in Africa. “A life with no man!?!??! How ever shall I survive!?” I’m serious tho. But how can we change that? How can we partner with the widows to see them thrive; happy and successful with who they are and where they’re at? :)


For the young adults in Congo we bought sewing machines. Now they can make clothes and do tailoring for money to get them through university and stuff. Self-sufficiency that promotes education and “hopeful futures”. Lol. One of my dreams for Mugunga IDP camp is to have a “sewing center”. We could buy maybe 20 sewing machines and keep them in our building at the camp. (“Our building” lol calling things that are not as though they were!) And then anybody who needs income can come and we’ll give them some fabric and they can sew some clothes. Then when they sell it they can give a small piece of the profits back for the use to the machines. (Like paying rent. It gives it value etc.) Then the profits can go to machine maintenance and maybe a group of orphans or something!

I dunno. Just thoughts. I had an epiphany tonight that “I should go to business school!!” Haha. Probably not, I don’t like business that much, I just love justice. And for a hungry family, a bag of beans isn’t enough. Mercy which is good. Great actually! But not enough. Or least I don’t think it is. There needs to be that partnership with justice. Cause when that bag of beans runs out then what? Why not empower them to be successful on their own?

How else can we change the world?

School systems! It’s been said that North and Eastern Congo is one of the worst places in the ENTIRE WORLD to be a woman or child. That sucks. They say because of the war a child has almost no chance at education, and if they do get the opportunity the schools are so terrible they don’t really learn anything. We did some teachings and games with a group of kids in this one community in Goma. The kids were SO violent and SO numerous. Hundreds and none went to school. (I think I blogged about it earlier –it’s where the riot broke out) So my idea? WELL… when we start working in Mugunga feeding the kids, we can also train the teachers. See Mugunga has thousands of people with many different professions, teachers, doctors, pastors, farmers, cooks, etc etc. SO, we gather the teachers and offer trainings. We teach them different teaching styles, how to handle kids with trauma, behavior issues, everything. Then when they’re ready to go back to their villages we go with them! We help set up a school giving all the kids in that area a change for education, empowering them to be the change that the nation is so desperate for! BRILLIANT yeah!??! That’s one of my favorites. Anybody want to come to Congo and implement it? Or fund it? :) :)


So there are a few thoughts that helped pass the time. Any input? Any volunteers? We not only need people on the ground in Africa but people mobilizing various things in America and Canada and donors. :) Both one time and monthly! :) :)

Well I think I’m gonna make myself a cup of tea and search the house for any left over chocolate. Oh to find a piece of hidden Toblerone stashed away for desperate times such as these… :)

doing life: bars and brothels

Ahhh! Jesus is so amazing I could burst.

A lil sick right now so my mind is fuzzy BUT here’s some fun from the last couple days…

So I’ve been back working in the bars and “brothels” this last week on the Kenyan Coast. (Not working working, but … ya) lol. I wanted to return to be with the girls who came out of prostitution last time to see how they’re doing and help them get settled in jobs that don’t require sex. :) I planned sort of a “surprise” visit to really see where the girls were at, so two days before traveling I called them and let them know my schedule. It was brilliant, within hours the whole community knew and the girls were calling me: “Sandra, Sandra! You are coming!!! KARIBU (welcome)!!!!” Instantly I became ecstatic. “If they’re calling, that means they haven’t returned to their old jobs!!!” YAY!!!
The 18 hour bus ride ahead of me suddenly didn’t seem that bad, oh the things we do for the joy set before us. :)
The next few days were amazing. Investing in relationship with these girls and meeting new ladies desperate for Jesus, and a lil life change. Fabulous.


The nights, as always, were spent mostly in the bars talking with current prostitutes. We had such a good time. Almost every girl wanted Jesus. I know, a little suspicious but His presence would fall so strongly at the tables, how could they resist? We’d talk, hang out and then they’d ask if they could meet him. I would try to talk them out of it at first, seeing if they really wanted him or if they just wanted to please the foreigner, but it couldn’t be done! They were just hungry for Jesus. During a conversation with one girl I felt a nudging from papa and started to prophesy over her. In seconds she started BAWLING at the table. Another girl, also sitting with us, was so undone by God’s love for the girl crying; she couldn’t hold back, “I’ve got to have him too!!”

So those were the nights, in the morning we’d follow up with a meeting. It was a chance for them to get to know Jesus more and plug into a community. (Eventually get alternative employment if desired… :) About twenty girls showed up! (I had maybe spoken with ten over the last few days?) They were so hungry for truth and love. One girl named Maggie, stayed after the meeting and confessed to being six months pregnant. Seriously one of tiniest girls I’ve ever seen. Through tears she explained her story:

Working in the commercial sex trade in Mombasa her life took a twist when she learned she was pregnant. Crap. She tried to have an abortion but it didn’t work. Covering it up as best as she could, Maggie kept trying to terminate the little life several times. Somehow (who knows how) nothing seemed to work though, so she ran away. She came to the city I was in, and has been working there a month. Living in a clubs supply closet and selling her body to eat, she was depressed and wanted to die. She was so precious though. When we met she made the decision quickly, she wanted God no matter what.

While talking in the restaurant the morning after, tears streaming down her face I had no answer but Jesus. I was out of money, I couldn’t offer her a job, and I was leaving that night so I couldn’t even offer her solid friendship. All I had was knowledge of a perfect father. Thank goodness that’s enough! After she finished I sat and inwardly started praying: “God… what do I do??” just then I heard the other girls pipe up. The ones that have only just come out of the trade themselves and are still babies in the faith, “You can stay with us! We’ll help you find a job!” Then the pastor with a large smile on his face: “And what a joy! A baby! We’ll help you get settled in a house for when the child arrives!” AW!! YAY!!! God’s so faithful!!

Later that day God amazed me, once again, as I had the privilege of working with our “head girl” to start our first business! Not chickens like I’d hoped (as the chicken market is down right now- guess they’re all in Ethiopia for the month?) So instead the girls now have a small clothing shop! Woo Jesus!

So that was that was a taste of the last week! Of course it had its bumps. My hotel was in the heart of the area I worked and INFESTED with bugs. I’d just laugh, as I knew it wasn’t time to get up in the morning if I could still hear the music from the clubs next door. (They usually didn’t close until 6 or 6:30am!) Not to mention I got sick the day after I arrived! It felt like I was like doing the entire week under water. :( haha.. But it was still great! I love seeing the extra element of God’s strength when I’m super weak. He’s so fab. :)

(Sorry it’s long but that’s the condensed version! If you’d like to get involved and invest in a business for ex-prostitutes please let me know!!! We’re looking for partners!!! :)

RaNdoM Stories!

It feels if I don’t write them somewhere I forget them!
So here are a few fun REALLY random stories of just how amazing Jesus is:

One day in Congo we were on our way to Mugunga camp. =) Our form of transportation, like most days, was public transit -a stuffed 14-passenger van. (that can hold up to 30 ppl!) This day was special though, unlike most days when I’m crammed in the back, THIS time I got to be crammed in the front (a little more leg room there!) The driver was on the far right, and then three of us closely cuddling on the left. Sitting there, I was practically on top of the middle guy and the end guy was practically on top of me. (Oh yes – so delightful!) Well, one time we had to switch positions a little and I noticed the end guy wasn’t moving his leg. So like little sardines in a can, I asked him what was the matter. He began to tell his story and I learned he was in an accident a year ago and still has pain and couldn’t move it. WELL, cornered!…sort of, we had all the time in the world to chat about God’s amazing love for people and I asked him if I could pray for him. “Now?” “Yeah!” He agreed and in no time was making attempts to unsquish himself to “test out” his leg.
Healed! Yay Jesus. Cause there’s no better time then hot and sticky on the way to an IDP camp. (And his name… Emmanuel. :)

Once in Uganda (while on the car theme) we were piled into a private taxi (thank the LORD!). It was raining and the roads were quite slippery, no worries, we’re in a car right? Sort of. As the rain got heavier a motorbike taxi in front of us lost control and crashed. “STOP!!!!” We screamed from inside the taxi as we all hopped out to make sure everyone was ok.
Not sure where the taxi guy went but the two ladies that had been on the back were distraught. “We need to get to the hospital! She’s dislocated her shoulder!” Well, I don’t know what a dislocated shoulder looks like, but I can say hers sure didn’t look good! Both women were in much pain and a little bloody so we asked if we could pray for them before taking them to the hospital! “Sure sure…” With the rain starting to fizzle a little we invited rain from heaven to come and heal the ladies. As their faces started to brighten we ran back to the car to scrap up any band-aids and tissue we could find. As we continued to invite Jesus to the scene of the accident we wiped up their blood and covered the open wounds with plasters. By the time we were finished the ladies were smiling and laughing. “We’re better. No pain! Don’t need the hospital anymore but thanks!” YAY JESUS!!!!! I love it when he shows up. So my favorite! ;)

And to top it off let’s move to Kenya… ☺ We were working on the coast in Mombasa at the time with a group of ex-prostitutes. We had been teaching on the Kingdom and how they are DAUGHTERS of GOD. That’s amazing! And that they have access to everything that’s in heaven. As a practical activity to demonstrate, we took them to the streets one afternoon to have them bring heaven. (Treasure hunting, for those familiar) They started by asking Jesus who to pray for and then went out to find them. One fun time we came across a lady and her baby. She matched the perfect description my friend had heard and we found out she was very sick with lung problems as were her kids. In fact she had just just returned from the hospital. So we gathered around them and the amazing daughters laid their hands on the sick. As we were praying I noticed the woman started to cry and cry and cry. When we finished I asked her what was wrong and she said “It’s gone! All my pain is gone! I can breath well without pain!” Healed! Then we prayed for her kids and the same happened with on of her boys. YAY JESUS!!! I love him….

So that’s fun. I realized today that most of my posts are rants and that I should switch it up with some glory story. Lol. So here are the odd ones – one from each country! :) Will share more with time…. :)

I’m in Uganda! I escaped with the team to a retreat center (Mto Moyoni!!) shortly after Congo to rest, relax and process some of the stories from the war zone. Upon arriving I felt like I had processed most the traumatic things we’d heard so I was excited to ask God for strategy on how to tackle the international problems we faced. :) It was amazing. Within the first hour of arriving God was speaking and had A LOT to say. But the strategy was different from what I expected:
“You’re my daughter. First and foremost, my girl.” =)
Uh! How much am I his favorite?!
Thousands of hungry people I want to feed, a million things that could be done and that I probably need to be doing, and his answer couldn’t have been more perfect.
Us. “This” is what always comes first. I LOVE this. You know when you feel like the most LOVED person that probably exists? That’s how he makes me feel all the time. For two days we sat, laughed, swam in the Nile and beheld a breathtaking garden. Just being. How often do we miss life by doing? By trying to “accomplish” or “achieve” when all we’re meant to do is love. Everything else can happen but from that place. I am so motivated to run. To dive, to go as fast and as hard as I possibly can and to see Mugunga IDP camp look more like Heaven than the current hell it resembles now. But presently all that he’s asking is for me to be. To rest and wait.
Perhaps I’m just lacing up my shoes, only time will tell but in perfect love I wait. In this love I trust and in this love I dream.

Imagine a Mugunga where skin diseases don’t exist.

An “IDP camp” that’s not synonymous with sickness.

Imagine that instead of seeing development take a halt due to the war, creativity breaks out, inventions start being formed, new types of music starts rising and the children learn to play again. They laugh from their bellies free from the sound of gunshots and the fear that dares to imprison them in silence.

It’s so close I can almost taste it. It’s heaven on earth and it’s getting thin over Mugunga. Or so I dream. And trust. =)

I wonder which comes first, the chicken or the egg? Dreaming or trusting? Is it in knowing his goodness and trusting him in his desire for a war ravished nation that we can believe for its transformation? Or is it in dreaming that there’s transformation for a war-ravished nation that leads us to trust him more for the impossible?

I dunno. Love! Haha. Love is always the answer. Receiving it in full then giving all you just got. “Us”. Everything is just an extension of that. (deep sigh) :)

Oh the injustice....

When the pain is too much, make pizza

What do I say? Today I heard stories of hungry widows, forgotten orphans and a family who ran 72 km with nine kids to escape the rebels. We were in the IDP camp again today listening to stories and loving on people and now I’m drained. By the time you read this I’ll probably have processed and found the “happy place” in Jesus but right now I’m still trying to even get the point of dealing with it. I’m still in the phase where your emotions can’t take it and fight to shut down. Your brain SCREAMS “Hey, this hurts WAY to bad, investing would cost WAY to much. STOP”
This is when truth over rides reason though and my will has to rise up and give in to Jesus. He’s enough. He is. End of story. The most common thing we hear among the 20 thousand people in Mugunga Refugee Camp is “We’re starving. There’s no work and no food. What do we do?” Talking with a woman in her shanty little tarp and banana leaf home we sat together on her bed. It was painful. Literally. Spiky volcanic rock with a UNHCR tarp on top I could feel the edges jabbing into my butt. Ok Jesus. You’re still good. You’re still enough. As I chat with a family a little girl in my arms dozens of kids surrounding us we could hardly hear the people talking over the coughing and hacking of the little ones around us. OK JESUS! I KNOW YOU’RE STILL GOOD. I Know you’re MORE than enough for Mugunga. And in that, his amazingness, we get to see him show up. We get to see him as the answer for the sick, the answer for the depressed. I love that place. I really do. As we walk between the rows and rows of white tarped “closets” I feel at home. Living from Heaven to earth in the midst of hell. Sometimes I have to fight the natural survival mechanism of shutting my heart down but when I chose to trust in his love even after the stories, I know life is still amazing.
Their eyes are hard, empty and hollow. But it doesn’t take much. When we sit with them and cry out for Jesus to come and sit with us suddenly a life in them that I never knew existed emerges from nowhere. But yet I wrestle. Mercy would be filling their stomachs today, justice would be empowering them to feed their stomachs tomorrow and the next day, and the next day. Right? What’s the strategy for 20 thousand hungry refugees whose homes are invaded with rebels? Jesus. Love. What does action look like? (And this is only one of 6 camps)

As my itunes scrolls through “random” and I listen and type and process and type, and Jesus and type I’ve found my hope again. It doesn’t take long usually, He’s just to good. To funny. I love that even after the hardest days he brings joy.
Today we had a party. Barely freshly showered from the layers of IDP camp guck and we decided to host a bunch of people for a birthday party. It was fabulous. Pulling out my domestic diva skills we through together pizza! (without an oven or dough!) It was actually REALLY good though!!!! I’m still in shock how we did it. (we’re that incredible) Oh the bliss. Oh the contrast. But still how much I delight in his joy.

Sometimes I literally feel like the luckiest person ever. I’m full of cheese which is fine because I’m just so in love. Lol. I get to not only know about a great God but I get to KNOW God. I get to be his best friend (his fav ;) and inherit the earth with him. Pretty much. :)
I see the disaster I see the ruin and hopeless that Congo tries to beat you down with and I can’t help but think, I get to know the one with the answer. I’m on his side and WE WIN. For the competitive side in me, that’s a good thing. :) Love is SUCH a powerful thing, and it’s great cause it’s so easy to see when you’re in a war zone.

One of my teammates Sabrina and I were working with the kids the other day. The rest of the team was preaching with the youth so everyone over 13 years old was gone and the two of us were left with 200 kids, a translator and a very small room. It was fine at first but there were some kids in the back being a little disruptive so no prob, we thought we’d sing a song and finish the lesson. Well as we did a song someone somehow shut the door and locked it. To be fair it was only a half a door but the kids went wild. Almost instantly a riot broke out and before we knew it we were in the middle of a brawl. Within about 30 seconds I heard a scream and one kid was down. As I worked on settling the crowd the child started throwing up blood. Stay calm stay calm. I tried Swahili, I tried French, I tried charades. What the heck just happened? Sabrina yells from across the room that she thinks the little girl went down and others were kicking her. As a pool of thick red blood formed on the floor I continued working crowd control and started comforting the child. Eventually she stopped throwing up, the doors were unlocked and we herded the children outside.


Stumbling out of the half finished cement room I walked over to another teammate who was talking with the pastor’s son. He had asked her something about education and as a teacher she was explaining the importance of kids going to school. “Not only does it teach them things for the future and provide job opportunities, but school teaches kids to think! It teaches them creativity and interaction with others. It gives them ideas and keeps them out of trouble…” I look around at the couple hundred kids now playing in the dirt around us. One little kid had a tight hold on my finger while a couple others giggled as they stroked the blonde hairs on my arm. Two Hundred kids and it’s just the close vicinity of the neighborhood. Most of the children originally came from the bush villages, fleeing the war and have just recently been settling in the city. All they know is war and fighting. Why should I be surprised at anything else? Now as their families attempt to start a new life and relocate in a safer location none of them are attending school.
One- there is no school, and two- the church tried to start one but had to charge to keep it going. The cost was $1 a month per child but 90% of the families couldn’t pay it. Hundreds of kids in the district. None are in school.
What does love look like for a neglected generation?....

Sometimes I just sit and look at Jesus. All I need is a glance, I don’t need to say anything he knows exactly what I’m thinking. How? What? Which? Should I? :)
How fast can I run and how big of a team can I run with? :)

We came home later that night and as we processed as a team it started to rain. We had just been praying that morning for a down pour and this was the first rain since arriving. We turned up the music and ran outside for a dance party. As we laughed and spun around on the volcanic pebbles I came back to that place. I am so lucky to be loved so well. Wet and exhausted we went inside and were greeted with electricity. (I am SO his favorite ;) Sometimes it’s the little things. I didn’t see any riots today. The water came on when I needed to shower and the store down the street was selling cheese. Life can get tricky at times yet I feel somehow I walk in perfection. Loved and in love. (sigh…..)
(There was a lot of talking between the lines this post. Maybe only those who know my “stories” will get it and so for those who do, what do you think? Next summer? :)