GodandMe2theMax

I’m cuckoo for…

“…so that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and please Him in every way;
bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God.”  --Colossians 1:10  

On the outside looking in, just about anyone would describe me as a workaholic.  In truth, that is not me at all – I’m really quite lazy and would prefer to not invest so many hours into my job.  The problem is that I have an equally competing voice in my lazy head that tells me I can give nothing less than my best, whether to my employer or whatever project I’m working on.  It’s this strong work ethic and strive for excellence that makes me work the crazy hours that I do, and it’s this same work ethic that seems to get my work-life balance out of whack repeatedly. 

Every few years, the Lord hits me upside my hard head to remind me that my calling is first and foremost as a wife and mom.  It’s why we sold our company 9 years ago, and most recently, He clearly showed me that I better make some immediate adjustments once again.  It was very clear that my family was getting only the fumes left in my tank, and my priorities were not where God wanted them to be.  (I'm proud to say that so far, so good...successful implementation of those changes and less hours are being worked!)

I used the time in Tanzania to gain a new perspective and try to retain special memories with my children and husband.  This is yet another one of those memories, written from the perspective of my true calling – a mom.  Perhaps only mothers who can act ridiculously crazy without reserve will really understand the details below, but I’ll do my best to explain how it all went down.  All I know is that I must live my life in a manner worthy of my calling, and my actions must be consistent to reflect the love of Jesus within me.

It was our last day of ministry, and as mentioned in the last blog entry, I was teamed up with Jacob & Amber for the day, my own two children.  Our guide and translator Willfred led us up the mountain to our first stop in Kubiterere.  Willfred worked to gather together anyone who would listen.  Adults & children started to circle around, and I randomly snapped the below picture of others making their way toward us.  

Little did I know that the little guy in the orange shirt would make such a great impact on me. 

In total, we had about 15 kids and quite a few adults who sat and listened as I shared the gospel.  After I shared, Amber presented the Evangecube, and by the time we were done, nearly every adult and some of the older children within earshot had made a decision to put their faith in Christ.

As Amber shared, I looked at the children.  One by one, I made eye contact with them, trying to get a little smile out of each one.  Two of them, Sabena & Joseph, were determined to remain solemn.  I don’t know if Joseph was afraid or just shy, but try as I might, this momma couldn’t get him to understand that I offered only unconditional love, nothing more.  His Mr. Tough-Guy façade stayed for the duration of my time there.

The little guy in the orange striped shirt is Joseph, aka Mr. Tough Guy. I never could get him to crack a smile, not even once.

As the people went back to their daily work and the children dispersed, one of the adults proudly asked if he could show Amber & Jacob where he lived.  Willfred gave me a nod that it was ok, and off Jacob & Amber went.  I stayed behind with the specific intent to win over the one remaining tough guy.

Meet Sabena.

I snapped this picture without him knowing it.  The minute he saw my camera, the tough-guy face re-appeared.

He kept his distance, and no matter how hard I tried to get a little grin from his round face, success did not seem to be in the cards. 

Enter on the scene a little girl named Rachel. 

She was fearless, full of precious smiles, and little did she know that she would be my pivotal partner in winning over Sabena. 
Rachel let me take her picture and waited anxiously to see the image pop up on the screen of my camera. 

She started climbing on me and let me hold her.  Eventually, she landed right on my lap. 

Her lack of fear drew Sabena over a little closer and closer, until he eventually seemed comfortable standing next to me…but still no smile.

I knew there was a smile inside dying to get out, but Sabena was determined to stifle it.  You can ask either of my kids, I’m a pretty strong-willed momma who likes a challenge.  If Sabena was going to be a pickle, then I wasn’t leaving until I had successfully taken the vinegar out of the pickle.

I’m not sure how long Amber & Jacob were gone, maybe about 15 minutes.  However long it was, it was too quick, because they were back with me before I was ready for them to be back.  I knew that their return meant that we needed to move on to the next hut.  And Sabena had not even cracked a smile. 

It was time to go, and in my heart of hearts, this little boy was only still hanging around us because he longed to be loved-on, the way I was hugging on Rachel.  I held up my hand as if to ask for a few more minutes of precious time with these children.  I believed that I was close to a breakthrough with Sabena.  I think Amber could sense the special moment building, too.  Providentially, she grabbed my camera and began snapping pictures – pictures worth more than 1000 words to me. 

My gut tells me Sabena had never seen a white person (mzungu) before, let alone one as scary-looking as me. 

As I continued to pour out love on Sabena, the magic of tickling took over.  He finally dropped his guard, allowing Mr. Tough Guy to vanish and the child within to emerge.  He let me pick him up, and he started to drop the walls he had built up.  

Trust began to build as he eventually made his way into the half of my lap that Rachel did not occupy.

Admittedly, I acted crazy. 

I was a total goofball as together the three of us laughed incessantly. 

I found myself reaching over to kiss Sabena's forehead.  It wasn't planned; it just happened, because that's what moms do. They kiss the children they love.  Somehow in such a short time, a special bond had formed between us, and in that instant, I loved Rachel & Sabena as if they were my own children!  

I had known their names only a short time, yet my heart was overflowing with so much love that I would
swear under oath that they were my own flesh and blood.  It was a priceless memory.  

Against my wishes, I knew my time with these precious children was over, and we had to move on to the next hut to share the Gospel.  If it were up to me, I might still be on the top of the mountain with Rachel & Sabena in my arms.  I walked away trying to fight the tears of the experience.  

Even as I write, the memories can be described as nothing more than a momma’s pure joy.  Jacob, on the other hand, described it as something else. 

As we walked away, he began to tell me that I acted inappropriately.  You see, being the youngest, he’s really never seen his mom love on children that weren’t my own flesh and blood.  I tried to tell Jacob that I couldn't help it; it was the momma in me that took over.  Apparently, though, Jacob wasn’t done lecturing me.  “Mom,” he said, “I don’t think Dad would have acted like that.  You can’t blame it on being a parent.”  I agreed with him, for sure; Frank would never have acted the way I did.  It’s not in his Ph.D. reserved nature or DNA.  But me, I don’t have that degree, I only have my MOM degree.  I’m just a mom who loves children, so I vehemently defended my actions with my son. 

In Jacob’s defense, he really was not trying to steal my joy; he was simply trying to shed light on how foolishly I had behaved.  That’s my Jacob: I can always count on him to share his perspective with raw honesty, without reserve.  For sure, he did just that.

Therefore, he was not yet finished with the critique of my behavior. 

“Mom, you were completely cuckoo.  Totally cuckoo, mom.  It was really bad & embarrassing, mom.  I mean, you were completely crazy.”  (Insert his imitation of me goofing around with the kids and don't forget to include a high pitched unintelligible voice.) 

As he searched for the words to further describe my inappropriate behavior, I cut him off and told him, “Yes, Jacob, I know.  I get it.  I'm guilty, I am.  I’m cuckoo.  I’m just cuckoo for kids.  That’s what a mom does; it’s part of my nature; and I can’t help it.” 

And about as quickly as I said that I was cuckoo for kids, both of us simultaneously added, “Cuckoo for cocoa kids.” 

Yeah.  Let that one sink in for a moment.

A few seconds passed before any of us realized exactly what we said when alluding to the well-known Cocoa Puffs slogan. 

The three of us stopped and laughed uncontrollably while our Tanzanian partners looked at us with bewilderment.  Even with their grasp of the English language, I don’t think they could ever imagine what exactly was going on or what was said. 

It was the perfect ending to that perfect memory.  It was also a perfect example of Proverbs 17:22, “A merry heart does good like a medicine.”  God knew my heart needed that massive belly laugh to get through the moment.

As I’ve tried to detail my story about Rachel & Sabena on the mountain, I can’t help but think of the spiritual applications of each person in the story. 

Mr. Tough guy Joseph went away, never knowing what it was like to open his heart to a stranger and trust them.  I pray that he will one day know what it’s like to trust Jesus as his best friend.

Rachel allowed herself to be vulnerable, not letting fear of the unknown grip her.  Because of it, she was influential in helping her friend experience love.  Granted, I’m not God by any means, but I hope that those two children will have a memory of when the mzungu woman came to their village to show God’s love.  I pray that I was an expression of Him.

And Sabena…he overcame his fear, dropped his guard, and experienced something new.  If nothing else, I hope he learned to fear a little less and trust a little more.  (I think he definitely learned that tickles and laughter are good for the soul, too!)

I don’t know what memories Rachel & Sabena will retain from the time in my lap on the mountain, but I know that these two impacted me pretty deeply. 

And me, I’m reminded to be a friend like Rachel.  I’m reminded to persist when I believe God is leading me to (with Sabena), and I’m reminded to give up when He isn’t (Joseph).  I’m reminded that God’s timing is perfect, and finally, I’m reminded to count my blessings, each and every one of them.

It’s also just another reminder to me that my first calling is being a mom.  It’s innate and natural.  I proudly wear the title Mumzy (so given to me by Amber several years ago).  I love the fact that I don’t have to stick with any nice and neat persona in a box just because Jacob wants me to, and it's ok to be cuckoo and crazy when God leads you to do it.   

All I know is that I loved those children in the way that I believed Jesus wanted me to.  I pray that I lived in a manner worthy of my calling.  Finally, I hope I showed my children that it’s ok to be cuckoo, as long as you’re doing it for the right reasons...  Even if it means being cuckoo for cocoa kids.

 

 

-- Beth Banfill
www.GodandMe2theMax.com

No greater joy...

“I have no greater joy than to hear of my children walking in the truth.”
III John 1:4

 

As we prepared to go to Africa, this is the verse that kept running through my head.  In my mind, though, the phrase was “than to see my children walking in truth…I have no greater joy than to SEE THEM walk in truth...”  And from this mom’s perspective, seeing my children live out their faith on foreign soil was a visual image I wanted to invade my memory, never to leave.

You see, in 25 years of marriage and 20 years of having children in our lives, we have never had our entire family of four on the mission field together.  I have been overseas with Frank about 4 times, one of those times with Amber & Frank, 6 other times with just Amber, a bunch of other times without anyone in the family with me, but never have either one of us been able to serve overseas with all four of us.  (And in case you’re not keeping track, that means the missing element has always been Jacob.)  Not only was this trip a dream come true, but we both believed it was a mandate from God to allow Jacob this opportunity before he graduates and moves on in his next phase of life.  We also knew another opportunity like this was quite unlikely, so trust me when I say that I did my best to soak it all in and savor the moments and memories.

Jacob is…well, let’s just say he’s a typical teenager.  He is anxious to conquer the world, but if I try to offer advice along the way, it is too often quickly discarded as irrelevant and unfounded.  Hanging out with mom is something he does only under duress, and I suspect that isn’t going to change until he really lives the hard-knocks life of adulthood.  I believe that one day, he will realize mom is one of his biggest advocates, and I’m clinging to that tenet!  Until then, he remains a typical teenager who tomorrow morning will begin his last “first day of school”. 

I look at him and wonder how that bright eyed, silky haired boy with the big dimples turned into a big-haired mustache wearing almost 18 year old.

Alas, I digress.  Forgive this mom for the reminiscing.

Back to Africa… 

It was our last day of ministry, and in fact, it was our last day before we started our return to Texas.  We were to leave early the next morning, and the one memory I had hoped for had not yet been made:  I had yet to hear Jacob share his faith -- not even once during the entire trip.

Early on in the trip, Frank was able to go out with him; Amber had teamed up with him a few times; and even Dr. Vance, one of our other team members was able to go out with him one day.  But me?  Nope.  Jacob wanted nothing to do with that idea, and in fact, he vetoed the opportunity when it was presented.  Providentially though, on that last day, we were a bit short on translators.  That my friends, was about the best news anyone could have told me.  Not only did we spend the day together, but an added bonus: Amber also joined with us.  (Frank was at East Africa Christian College finishing up the class he was teaching, so I am the sole possessor of this priceless parental memory!)

Our translator Willfred was on a mission, no pun intended.  He knew where he was taking us, and it’s probably good he didn’t tell us ahead of time.  We crossed the road and followed him on an adventure that none of us will forget.

It was clear that the only way to forge this hike was with high steps through the fields. 

Our guide had a brisk pace, and we all had our eyes on the ground, trying to dodge the cattle dung.  We trekked down the side of a cliff-like ravine, crossed the stream, and then we pressed on up, up, up the mountain. 

I lagged behind the others as I tried to snap some pictures to capture this experience.  By the time we stopped at our first home, we weren’t at the ‘top’ of the mountain, but we were definitely a lot closer than I ever thought we’d get!

The above pictures is with full zoom, looking down on where the church is located.  
When I snapped this, we weren't even all the way up the mountainside yet!

 

As I said earlier, our translator was on a mission.  Every step up that mountain was intentional.  Willfred knew exactly where we were going and why:  to tell his friends about the Lord.  We came upon a central area where we were met by some of his friends. 

In Swahili, Willfred explained that we had come to Tanzania to share with them, and together, they went and gathered together all the extended family who were available to listen.  We must have had about 8 adults and 15 kids that finally gathered around – maybe more.  They were all waiting to hear from these strange white people.  (I’m pretty sure some of those children had never seen a white person, but you’ll have to wait until the next blog entry for that story.)

With all the extended mountain family together, it was determined that I should be the one to share with them first.  I shared my testimony of how as a small child, I made the most important decision I could ever have made:  the decision to put my faith and trust in Jesus.  I went on to share the specifics of what the Bible says about becoming a Christian, and Amber then shared the Evangecube with them.  She started out by asking what they knew about a man named Jesus.  Their response: They knew nothing; in fact, they had never even heard His name.  Can you even imagine that?  We live here in the USA where most of us hear the name of Jesus being taken in vain nearly every day.  Yet these people had never even heard the greatest story ever told – the story of Jesus and His unending bountiful love for us!

As Amber shared, they hung on her every word.  Before she even finished, one of the adults interrupted and said, “I want that for me.  How do I get this free gift of salvation for me?”  Wise beyond her years, Amber is ever-so-cautious of leading someone in a prayer without them fully understanding the commitment that it means.  So she finished articulating the Gospel to make sure they fully understood what it meant to put your faith and trust in Christ and accept His free gift of salvation.  Then each family member, along with some of the older children bowed their heads and prayed a simple prayer of forgiveness, confession, and commitment.  

 

The angels rejoiced; this mom did too, because I have no greater joy than to see my children walk in the truth.

The next home we visited was just a little further up the mountain. (We didn't think it was possible, but it was!)

It was a similar scenario as the last hut:  Willfred had us stop in a central area while he gathered up all the extended family so we could share with a max amount of people possible.  At this hut, however, it was Jacob’s turn to share why we came to Tanzania.  He opened up the Evangecube, and as he began to speak, this momma’s heart was about to explode with pride. 

I watched in silence; I listened intently; I pinched myself.  At times, Jacob would struggle to find the right words.  As if they could read each other’s minds, he just had to glance over at his sister, as if to make an invisible “tag” for her to take over.  Then and only then, would she jump in to bridge the words he struggled to find. 

And as soon as the thought was complete, she in turn would invisibly tag him back, allowing him the ability to take the lead in sharing the Gospel.  It happened like that about three times, maybe four.  If telepathic tag-team witnessing was an Olympic event, they would have won the gold medal, hands down. 

Sometimes you wonder if it is really worth it...all the hours you pour into your children trying to "train them up in the way they should go."  You wonder if they really "get it" and if anything you have taught them really sinks deep.  Of course I know it's always worth it, but it was at that moment, as I watched my children lead others to Christ that I said a silent prayer.  I thanked God for allowing me the privilege of witnessing my children share their faith....not my faith, but their own personal faith.  And I thanked God for answering my prayer to see it happen.

There are truly no other words to express the overflow of emotion in my heart when I say, “I have no greater joy than to see my children walking in the truth.”

 

 

-- Beth Banfill
www.GodandMe2theMax.com

 

Anastazia Robi, born in the year of the locust, and my Rafiki for life.

Matthew 25:35-40

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat; I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink; I was a stranger and you invited me in…”  

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ “

 

Kubitierere.  A village marked by incessant tribal warfare with Koritambe, its direct neighbor.  A village known for its members being vengeful and unforgiving.  A village with a deserted church building from years past, due to the pastor being held at spear-point and told to fight or die.  Bloodshed marked the lawn next to the church building, as entire families were killed by spears on their way to church one Sunday.  The pastor and his family fled for their lives.  Innocent people were lost.  And the church that once was thriving dissipated.

Today, things are different.  There are still many vengeful families, and there is much work still to do, but the empty church building no longer exists.  God is at work within this village in a powerful way, and that church now has Christians attending each week and a pastor who is willing to shepherd them. 

It is here in the village of Kubiterere that God gave me my favorite memories from my recent trip to Tanzania.  We worked in three villages while we were there, 2 days in each village.  All of the work remains special in my mind, but over the years, it seems that God always has given me a special blessing of a memory that just “makes” the trip for me.  In this last village of Kubitierere, He did that not once, not twice, but three times.  Three amazing mental images I will never forget.

Today, I write about the first.  Her name is Anastazia Robi.  I don’t know much about her, really, but I can tell you I love her deeply, as if we were old friends.  She had but one child, a son.  Having only one baby in African culture is a stigma, because having many children is looked at as a sign of prosperity.  While Anastazia Robi had only one, her son apparently made up for that barrenness by having 12 offspring.  I also know that she was born in the ‘year of the locust’. My Tanzanian translator told me that he thought that the locust hit Tanzania in 1940, but when I googled it, the year appears to be 1949.  That would put her at only 67 years old, but her leathered hands appear to be so much older.

Our team was originally supposed to host a medical clinic, and we are sure she walked into the church building for that sole purpose.  But God had other plans.  We were on our lunch break when I first laid eyes on her. She was a tiny thing; carried a stick nearly as big as her, and she walked very slowly. 

When I saw her struggling to negotiate the step into the church building, I immediately stood up and grabbed a plastic chair for her to sit down close to the door.  I then pulled up another chair for me, and thus began a sweet rafiki-friendship.

Since it was our lunchbreak, I had no translators nearby to help me know more about this sweet lady that just walked into my life.  So I sat there.  She talked to me.  I conversed back with her.  She pointed at the ceiling of the church, and I responded that yes, I see those cobwebs up there.  She said something else in her native tongue, and I responded that “this is Africa, and I agreed.  I had to learn to not be afraid of spiders.”  The conversation went back and forth like that for quite a while, until one of our translators returned.

I cannot explain to you the feeling of chatting with this sweet woman about two completely different things, all while being 100% unified in spirit with her.  We laughed together, and I knew a bond of friendship was forming.  Even without a translator present, there was one thing evident:  this woman had a serious toothache.  She kept opening her mouth wide so I could take a look.  (Of course I didn't realize until later that the toothache & the original plans for a medical clinic was what brought her into the church building to begin with!)

I just kept telling her that I couldn’t do anything about that toothache she had, and I really didn't even want to see it.  Then I would change the subject to something else and try to be funny.
She seemed to laugh on cue.  I guess this mzungu (white person) intrigued her!  

About 20 minutes of chatting had passed when our gracious hosts from the community marched into the church with several large pots of rice, cabbage, beans, and some beef chunks in broth.  I immediately got up to get her some food, which she of course gladly accepted.  She made it clear that she didn’t want to have anything to do with the cabbage, and it was also apparent that she couldn’t chew that meat, but she gladly accepted a healthy portion of everything else.  

Since the government had put a nix on our plans for the medical clinic, the only thing I could offer her for the toothache was a Tylenol, which she gladly accepted.  

Soon afterward, we began to dialogue; thankfully, this time with the use of a translator.

I then had my translator ask if I could take her picture so that I could remember my new ‘rafiki’ (friend).  She told me, “No, because if you take my picture, it won’t be fair because I don’t have a picture of you.”  Now that was not the response I was expecting, but God interceded in really a miraculous way.  For the first time that I can ever remember happening, one of our team members brought with her a Polaroid camera!  The rest of the team had noticed my ongoing chatting with Anastazia Robi, and without missing a beat, the awesome Olivia Grace Todd came to my heart’s rescue with her camera.  I almost had to pinch myself to see if what I was experiencing was true - just another example of God's providential plans!  Together, we watched the image appear of the two of us, and at that moment, I knew that she loved me back just as much as I loved her.  A tear fell from her eye as she realized she would have a picture of us together to cherish.

In my heart of hearts, I felt that I needed to invest in this woman, meet her physical needs as best I could, but I also was compelled to build a relationship with her before sharing the Gospel.  Missions is not just 'telling people about Jesus."  It's about being sensitive to God to know when you need to meet physical needs & build relationships, and it's about listening to God's timing on when you should move the conversation to the spiritual.  My very wise pastor John Meador (FBC Euless, TX) has said that "relationship" is the most important word in the English language.  After my experience with Anastazia Robi, I believe that we were able to bond because I met her physical needs first...even that silly tylenol that we take for granted.  

After about 40 minutes of taking care of Anastazia Robi, I knew it was time to get down to business.  After all, we weren’t on lunch break all afternoon, and soon we would have to break for our discipleship groups.  I knew that it was time to start sharing the Gospel with her.  I then quickly learned that my translator spoke Swahili, but Anastazia didn't fully speak Swahili.  She understood some, but her native tongue was Lugha.  So I shared with her in English, which was then translated to Swahili, and then translated again to her native tongue of Lugha. 

She told me she was from a works-based religion.  In most cultures, her religion means her entrance into heaven was based on the works she did or did not do here on earth.  I shared with her that being a good person and living a good life is not the way to have a relationship with God.  I then shared with her the plan of salvation and showed her the verses in the Bible that say it’s not by works of righteousness that we have done, but according to God’s grace that we are saved.  (Titus 3:5, Ephesians 2:8-9).  On Tuesday, August 2^nd, Anastazia Robi bowed her head and with tears in her eyes prayed a simple prayer of forgiveness.  And at that moment, God invaded her heart, never to leave her.

Since she had her picture of us, she was now more than happy to let me take pictures, and that I did…en mass.   We took selfies together.  We made silly faces.  (Well, mostly I made the silly faces, because try as she might to imitate my facial gesture, the look on her face never really changed much!)  We laughed.  Big, belly laughs.  She referred to me as “rafiki”, and all during the discipleship group, our hands stayed gripped together.  As our first day in the village came to a close, I didn’t have any idea if I would see this sweet woman again, but I knew that she had made a decision to accept Christ for herself, and because of that, I would see her in heaven one day.

On our last day of ministry before leaving Tanzania, we met again in the church building to go out in teams and share the Gospel.  I knew she wouldn’t be there, but I hoped she would be back in the afternoon for the discipleship group.  Hope did not disappoint.  In fact, she was there waiting for me, big toothless smile across her face.  Empty chair saved just for me, her new rafiki.

We took more selfies.  We laughed.  We talked as if we could understand each other, and she swatted away the children who were trying to photo-bomb “our pictures”.  I took some video of us together, and she even learned how to say my name and “I love you” in English.  During the discipleship time, she once again gripped my hand, and every time I glanced over at her, she would look back with a sweet smile.  My Rafiki, my friend – Anastazia Robi. 

As our hands were inseparable, I knew our time together was drawing to a close.  Through my translator, I explained to her that I was leaving to go back to the USA the next day, and I had to say goodbye.  She understood, and she told me that she would be waiting for me to come back next year.  I made no promises, only that I would try!  I slipped my favorite necklace off my neck and latched it around hers.  I made her promise that she wouldn’t let one of her grandchildren have it, and that it was for her, as a symbol of our friendship.  She promised to keep it, and then I helped her through the door of the church, down the step, and she sat there waving goodbye until I was out of sight.

I still know very little about this woman who impacted my heart.  Her name is Anastazia Robi.  She had but one child, 12 grandchildren, carried a stick nearly as tall as her, and she was born in the “year of the locust.”  I know that she is my life-long friend, and I know God's timing is perfect.  Had the medical clinic taken place, I never would have had the opportunity to invest in her, nor she in me.  She is my rafiki, but most importantly, she is a friend of God now.

Notice the picture above, my black & silver necklace...
then in the picture below, she is wearing it.  :)

And this story, my friends, is my sweetest memory from this last trip to Tanzania.  I'm so blessed to have opportunities like this that make a forever impact on my heart.  

Pray for the people of Kubiterere.  Pray for those in this village that has been through such times of tribal warfare.  Many are still vengeful for the wrongs that were done to their family and need to know about Jesus.

And please pray for my rafiki, my friend, Anastazia Robi. 

 

-- Beth Banfill

www.GodandMe2themax.com