Hope.

Cancer makes you hope for death.
In the beginning, you hope for renewal, strength, and healing.
Some people get that. 
Many people don't.

My Aunt Reta was wonderful.
She had an incredible garden
and a fantastic laugh,
and didn't care what people thought of her.

And her cancer, after the fight,
left us praying for rest
to come fast.

And yesterday, it finally came.

I saw her last in October, just after she'd been given her
three weeks to live.

The last time I saw her, she was bright and feeling well,
nothing like a woman about to die,
She had a fantastic wig, and
it was an idyllic, perfect autumn day.

I thought of taking time to photograph her,
and refused to do it.
Because that would mean I was accepting that the
end was near.
My own act of solidarity and defiance, I suppose.
I don't regret it.

She hugged me tight and a little long,
we said goodbye, and
I'm grateful that's how I remember her.

Love.

You know what?  I've been holding out. 

I've been dying to just talk and talk about how much I loved photographing the people of Zambia, but I thought it was important to cover the main points of the trip first- I've certainly shared healthy amounts of editorial, personal, and reflective thoughts along the way, but, what's this blog for if not for that?

As for the rest of my blogs about Zambia- well, I don't know when I'll be done.  Rephrase- I'll never be done, because it's just beginning.  I know in saying this, some people won't believe me.  They'll think I'm on some mountaintop, breathing thin air, and not thinking clearly.  But I can't recall having one single mountaintop experience on this trip- though there were a lot of valleys, and a few peaks.

Essentially, other than my love for Jesus (which encompasses all of this), my love for Jim, and my love for my own children, I have never, ever, been so in love before.  My heart has been remade- like God tore it up in Africa, refashioned it, and made it 10 sizes bigger to make room.  I don't say that foolishly, or with a small bright passion that will fade with life and time and other pursuits.

I'm not on a high- in fact, I can't probably even quantify right now how inconvenient it is to fall in love with these people, with this place.  It will wreck all kinds of plans.  It transcends our finite resources, our bank account, our own strength, and just leaves us wholly dependant on God alone to provide every need.  I feel like we're completely inadequate, but equipped.  My heart is on Zambia throughout the day.  This isn't simple, it's earth shaking.  I know I'm using big and dramatic words, but, I'm speaking from my heart right now.  The love pushes these other things aside, yet holds all the other true loves of my life together and pushes us forward.

It's all new.

And you know what?  I have never, ever, felt so much hope and joy and happiness in the wrecking of my life.  Never.  I am confident that God has begun a new thing, has expanded what He's revealed to our family concerning our purpose, and I am humbled at the privilege, and my heart is full.

On to Photography.

I could talk on and on about how much I loved photographing these people.  And the fact that something I love so much can be used to promote the growth of awareness, education, passion, and resources on their behalf is very humbling to me- and it leaves me compelled to keep doing it.

In America, there are fences and walls everywhere.  We guard most everything about ourselves.  I have always held a passion for photographs that are not manipulated in any way- not by me, not by the subject.  Photographs that are authentic, honest, true.

In America, people hate being photographed- and the ones that love it typically just love themselves.  It's very difficult to achieve an honest image here, without any pretense.  It's hard.  I have to be very, very tricky to do it.  People manipulate the image themselves long before I ever can with intentions in how I take the shot, or in Photoshop later.

The people of Zambia swung open their doors for me from the moment we made eye contact. 

Over and over I photographed people who held themselves with the purity of a child who is not yet self aware.

In Zambia, if people were aware that I was photographing them, they might typically embrace a stoic composure, or a funny pose, but, the innocence was still there so strong it could bring me to tears at times (not hard to do, I should mention).

It was unvarnished reality.

And when I'd taken the shot, they'd smile wide and usually laugh out loud to see themselves in the LCD.

I can't get over how in love I am with these people- and the joy that the thing I love to do more than almost anything can be used to bring them joy, and to bring their faces and stories back here- and that doing so can start more fires for them.

I enjoyed the gritty, dark places I shot in- sometimes places with almost no light at all.  It was always dark, it was usually rainy, if there were electric lights, the light was poor, and if there were windows, people were almost always back lit.  I couldn't get enough of it.

I was all wrapped up in embracing the light and shadow- with the way the light would fall and wrap over everything, how it highlights their faces so beautifully.

To see this baby, my heart is broken- and it is also filled with beauty and hope.

I'm just in love.

Start Here.

I mentioned this book yesterday in this post. 

If you're wrestling with social justice just like I am, again, I'd urge you to get that book and start there. 

And while you're waiting for it to arrive, you can download a free podcast from Tim Keller on Justice.  It's basically the heart of this book, in one message. 

1.  If you don't already have iTunes, download it for free here. *
2.  Go to the Podcast section of the iTunes Store and search for "Timothy Keller Podcast".
3.  Subscribe for free, and get everything in the archive.  They're all good. You'll find the message titled,
     "Justice" there,  released on 2/19/10. 

What I especially love about TK and his church, Redeemer Presbyterian in NY, NY, is that these aren't just words and ideas he's proposing.  For instance, he waited to write this book on justice for decades, after living it out himself, and with his church- in significant, messy, difficult, and beautiful ways. 

Redeemer is also a church that strives to be biblically and culturally relevant, encouraging it's members to engage their creativity, their energy, and their full minds into every part of the culture, for the glory of God.  (If you can't tell, I'm pretty into this church.)

TK's books are never a waste of time.  And these podcasts- classic messages from his years at Redeemer covering a full spectrum of topics- they're excellent.


*I absolutely love using iTunes, and our iPods- but don't buy your music at iTunes.  Use Amazon MP3, it's better for myriad reasons, most importantly, because the music is way cheaper, and it imports right into...iTunes.

New Old Things

We've gotten some really neat things handed down to us this month from Jim's family.

Like this hutch, which cleaned up very nicely with a little love.

And this cool old radio-  it gives me Normal Rockwell vibes, and sometimes I faintly hear FDR's voice come out of it.

And I got a few more very cool cameras and an old school exposure meter that actually still works.

They supplement my growing vintage camera collection nicely.

This one's my favorite.  Thank You!

What I've Been Reading...

Here's what I read this month...

The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mocking Jay, by Suzanne Collins

I read these in 3 days, just before I left for Africa- the heat was on, because Jim started reading them too, and not only did I really want to finish them fast, but I did not want to leave and have him find out the ending before I did. 

These books are instant classics that (I believe) should be read in American High School classrooms for the rest of time.  Not only is the plot well-crafted, but the deep, deep themes in this book are rich and will leave you stirred up and haunted for weeks afterward.  There is so much here to dwell on, and we need to dwell on it. 

I could easily construct an entire semester's worth of material for a high school English course based on these books- essay questions were just blowing up in my face the entire time I was reading- there is so much here to cover- whoa dog I was into it.  Combine these with other classics such as 1984, Animal Farm, and Lord of the Flies, throw in historical and biographical information from US History, and you've got a rich syllabus.

The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical by Shane Claiborne

I first read this book in 2005, and though I found it good then, upon reading it now, I saw a huge shift in our lives toward the core concepts of this book in the years since- which made me hopeful, and motivated to keep pressing in to it.  And grateful for the road we've travelled, the friends we've made, the changes we've made, and for the church we call home. 

Also, this was the first thing I read when I got back from Zambia.  I'd put it on my 2011 book list weeks before, thinking I'd like to pick it up again, and because I already owned it, I checked it off my list first.  I really believe that wasn't a coincidence- it was, for so many reasons, exactly what I needed for re-entry into American life- I felt motivated, encouraged, affirmed, validated, challenged, and convicted with S.C. by my side through it.  I felt like I wasn't alone, which was important, in retrospect.

Art and the Bible (Ivp Classics) by Francis A. Schaeffer

I was really excited about this one.  The first half is an overview of God's emphasis on art and creativity in the Bible.  Honestly, I found these chapters to be weak- I think Schaeffer could have done better- but the second half was the Schaeffer I was looking for- I just wish it hadn't been so short.  I know he delves into these topics more in other works, and this was meant to be a short book to whet appetites for further inspiration, appreciation, and study, but- I just wanted more. 

He makes some incredible points and observations, and provides a useful guide for approaching, appreciating, and creating art as a whole person alive in Christ. 

The Christian is the one whose imagination should fly beyond the stars. - Francis A. Schaeffer

Generous Justice: How God's Grace Makes Us Just, by Timothy Keller

I do love Tim Keller books- but this one has been absolutely incredible- I'm not quite finished with it yet, but I wanted to get it out there for all of you who've been asking me about Africa, and who are trying to figure out social justice, and what it means for you.
 
In fashion true to T.K. form, it's thoughtfully, systematically, carefully pieced together, it communicates groundbreaking truth straight from the Bible, and it's clear and applicable to your life without simplifying the the message to make it "easier" to receive. 
 
I'd recommend this to anyone who wants to really dive in to the life of justice that God calls us to.
 
I've been working through it with lots of time to reflect, and may actually read it again before I move on.  I may share more later, but, here is a short note from my journal, dated 1.19.11- 

Right relationship to God naturally and fully spills over into right relationships with others- all others- and making right what is broken around us.  Righteousness, therefore, is a social, others-focused, outward expression of a heart surrendered to God.  Righteousness is not simply personal purity and closeness to God- Righteousness is social and it is constantly seeking peace and justice in all it's forms.  Righteousness = Social Justice.

Auctioneer

I'm streamlining my equipment and have a few auctions up on eBay. 

The first is my secondary camera, a Sony a200 DSLR, body only, excellent condition.  The strap, a battery, and a 4GB CF card are included.  Learn all about it here. 

I absolutely love this camera.   I just don't need 2 anymore.  A nice Nigerian bought it immediately this morning with buy it now, with intent to scam me- I'm clearing it up with eBay as I type, so the auction will reopen later this week- unless I sell it locally before then.  If you're in the Sioux Falls area, or if I personally know you and you just want to do a little transaction the old fashioned way, it's for sale for $350, and it's a fantastic DSLR.  I'll shed some tears when we part ways, but I have to move on.

Next is a Sony Alpha 50mm f/1.4 prime lens in excellent used condition. 

It's a great starter lens for anyone ready to move up from your kit lens- learn all about it here and find it on

eBay here.  I'm happy to sell it locally as well, email me.

I travelled light in Africa- absolutely every single shot you see from Africa in these posts is SOOC and untouched in Photoshop- and each was shot with a Sony a200 and this 50mm f/1.4 lens, and nothing else.

Last I've got a wide angle lens, a Sony Alpha 28mm f/2.8. 

This one has literally been used four times, and is in like new condition.  When you need it, it's a lifesaver- It's ideal for very close quarters or anytime you're needing a wide angle view.  Learn about it here, and find it on eBay here.  Again, if you're local and you want it, email me.

Aaaand, have a great Monday! 

Helpful.

We picked up a couple of dictionaries at Barnes & Noble this morning.  One is a keeper- I may be able to take the other back.

Jim has been brushing up on his French.

And we're all getting excited to learn some Arabic- and the teacher in me is getting pretty pumped to do all I can to help our new friends learn English asap- If I was suddenly transported to Africa, and my family's livelihood depended on learning the language as fast as possible, I'd get pretty focused. 

I'm bringing over a small markerboard for quickly writing phrases, as well as a stack of super-sticky post its that we can hang all over their house, labeling things when that would be helpful.  I'm also bringing stick-on name tags to make it easier for everyone while we're learning names.

I think this one will be particularly useful, because everything has a picture.  And there's complete English and Arabic indexes in the back.  (I'm planning to buy a matching one for English-French).

There are so many fun things we'll be able to do with this family- like play in the snow and teach them to make a snowman, go to the store, or a movie, cook together.... everything more complicated when we're trying to arrange transportation for all 15 of us- but we can make it happen.  And once it's not frigid outside anymore, well, all around that's just going to be nice. 

Do you live in Sioux Falls?  Do you want to mentor a refugee family?  Contact Amy Spaulding Zimbelman at the LSS Refugee & Immigration Center, 605.731.2009 or email her at Amy.Zimbelman@lsssd.org .

Poetically Correct

…The simple truth of a situation is usually more than enough.  -William Allard

There are some things I would like to have done better while I was in Zambia.  I should have learned more language.  I'm usually razor sharp quick at picking it up, but I didn't get intentional enough to absorb it.  And I don't know if I could call it regret, but, for lack of a better word, I regret not taking better notes.

See, I think God's purpose for me on this trip was accomplished.  My heart was broken, my eyes were opened, I came all undone, and I fell in love.  And He's sewn me back together and I feel alive- really alive, and I have so much hope, passion, and vision for the small things I uniquely can do that God can use in Zambia.

I firmly believe there is no greater story than a real one.  For as long as I can remember, I've loved biographies and documentaries, and, beginning in college, I grew to love missionary biographies in particular.  They have been so, so precious to me.  Real people.  Real struggle. Real victory. Real, honest, authentic stories about ordinary people and their extraordinary God. 

I met so many beautiful people in Zambia. I heard story after story, saw wonderful evidence of God in person after person, and it was incredible. 

Of course, I didn't take notes. 

I was a little overwhelmed.  I was just all undone in Africa.  I tried to write at the end of the day, and couldn't.  I'd jot down basic facts, where we went, etc., and that was all I had to give.  I wasn't thinking about how I'd blog about all of it when I got home.  It sounds strange to say that, but, it's true.  I just wasn't thinking about it.

And so, God's work in me was accomplished.  I got all broken, and now feel renewed and ready to go back.  Compelled to go back. 

And the next time I go, though it will still be an intense experience, I will be more prepared.  More focused.

I have a burning passion to show up, meet the people in my path, and let them talk and talk and talk.  I want to know their stories- and beautifully, these people are so willing to share, so blessed to share.  There was so much openness and transparency with the people I encountered- you just need to be present, to listen, and they'll lay their hearts out for you.  It was incredible.

With no help from me, their own stories were rich, full narratives.  Oh, oh I wish I'd taken better notes.

And I'll make my group stop what we're doing every once in a while so I can photograph things as we go.  I only asked them to slow down once last time.  I didn't want to frustrate everyone while they waited for me, though internally I was wanting to "stop a minute" all the time.  Now that I'm back I see how valuable those photographs have been, and I know I need to speak up more- because this is what we get to bring back for everyone. 

It's very difficult to tell a compelling story without rich images.  And they are everywhere there.

There are so many stories I want to tell.  But I didn't gather enough information- and it's imperative that I not, in any way, use my imagination to fill in the gaps.  Their own stories are too good, and the God who's orchestrating them is too grand, for me to try to throw something together to mend my shortcomings.

I've been known to wax poetic about all kinds of ordinary things and people that I love- my blog sees a lot of that.  I think the world needs that.  I know I need it.  There is endless beauty even in the most ordinary things.  I like to talk about it.

I've been waxing poetic about Zambia for 2 weeks.  I'm always writing from my heart- but I'm also always making sure that, to the best of my ability, what I say is accurate.  Because integrity is important always- but particularly when you're charged with the task of telling about what God is doing in people's lives, or through a ministry- it is rock solid required that what you're saying is true.

So for Richman and Regina, and Pastor Eddie, and all of you incredible, strong students I met at camp- I am dying to tell your stories.  But not yet.  I didn't take enough notes, and your lives are far too incredible for me to leave anything out when the world hears about you.

So we'll just have to wait until I can get it poetically correct.

1000 Everydays.

This is the 1000th post at Life Every Day.

I have seen it approaching.  It intimidated me.  I think it should be significant.  But staring the should-be-significant 1000th post in the face here in the drafting window leaves me... with few words.  I'll try to cough some out anyway.

When I began this blog in 2006, I was in The Baby Season.  I was young, figuring out how to be a wife and a mother and a woman and all the other things I should be in the world, while smack in the middle of birthing four babies in four years, and, despite caffeinated beverages and daily naps, I was constantly a little exhausted no matter what.

And I started writing whatever.  Whenever I wanted to.  Talk about a perfect example of traveling from the ridiculous to the sublime.

But I've loved it.  And it's kept me sane, and given me connections and friendships I never could have made otherwise- and my life is far richer for it.

And now I see that in the last year, the season has turned.  I don't yet know what to call it- I suppose it's better to wait for the hindsight that will come down the road to provide the namesake- but it has been a beautiful transition.

My loves for Jesus, Jim, my children, and my passion for life have become clearer, richer, grander and deeper.

Our children are growing in every way and I'm humbled to have a part in it- and greatly humbled to stand back and watch them fly a little farther every day. 

I absolutely love giving my life and my time and my energy at home with Grace, Patience, Lily, and Hudson.  I will never, ever regret it.

This is our last year of homeschooling and I can't get over how grateful I am for that season.  It was imaginative, full, fun, and fruitful.  My children, and I, have loved it.  But the season will end this year.  And we are all ready, peaceful, and excited for this next chapter to begin.  I can't get the words right, but to say- I am so grateful to have had such a beautiful, creative, and rich experience learning at home- that we can leave the season with good memories, and happily embrace all the change that will come with three girls away at school next year.  I'm so excited to see them growing so gracefully into this next milestone- and I know they will love it- it's a bittersweet end to one phase of life that I've savored- and it's a hopeful beginning of something new.

Our season of having babies is long gone, our children are growing up, we're a little more free, and life seems to be bringing about change and new, bigger vision this year.

Jim loves his job.  I can't get over how significant that is- that we both absolutely love what we do.

And I will spend this year teaching as many people as possible how to get creative control over their cameras- meaning they'll be inspired to photograph more of their lives- documenting the people, places, and events that make them rich.  I don't take it lightly that I'm a small part of something that significant. 

We have a warm home to call our own, and it's full of good food and people we love.  I get to wear "big" earrings whenever I want, and no babies ever pull them out.  I easily get a shower every single day.  That's a great thing.  And each passing year, we become more certain that a safe, comfortable, "happy" life is not going to satisfy us.

We are a part of an incredible church, and it, too, is growing.  I get so excited thinking about all the ways this city will be impacted by The Ransom as the years pass.

And now, suddenly, a part of my heart is in Africa.  And I have no idea what the future holds, but God, I'll do it.

I'm writing all the time.  I'm taking arts courses online, because I love it.  I listen to good music that stirs me up.  I've stopped photographing in any way that feels forced, and have embraced doing the work I love with my camera- and I've left the rest behind.  I read several books a month, and drink hot tea every day.  I have time to have long, completed thoughts, sometimes.  My husband still likes me.  And I like him.  My kids think I'm kinda cool.  Most of the time.  I have some good friends that are authentic, and true.  

Almost daily I fail, and get humbled, and have opportunities to say I'm sorry.  I feel very, very needy.  I feel wrecked and sure that I can't do anything good on my own.  Every year that passes I realize things I thought were right were wrong.  And every day I talk to Jesus through it all.  He's right there even in the most mundane, ordinary moments of my day.  And I know that I know it.  And I'm all wrapped up in it.

My every day life is good.  And God is keeping us a little restless, a little reckless- and dare I say I hope He keeps it up. 

I am grateful.

Zambia.

In December, 2010, I travelled to Zambia with an incredible team of people.  I worked as a photojournalist, observing and recording the entire experience, so I could bring it back for you.

This blog proved an invaluable lifeline for me as I processed through one of the most pivotal experiences of my life. 

Here is a running list of some of my reflections and thoughts, as well as introductions into the incredible work God is doing in Zambia through Poetice.

This wasn't a once in a lifetime experience for me.  It was a beginning. 

I'm humbled to share the journey with you.

Leaving 12.21.2010

Culture Shocked 1.6.2011

Not Yet 1.7.2011

Team 1.8.2011

Preparing Room 1.9.2011

A Letter from Zambia 1.9.2011

A Full Life in the Emptiest of Places 1.10.2011

Camp 1.10.2011

The Hospital 1.10.2011

The Music Academy 1.11.2011

Home Visits 1.13.2011

Catherine 1.13.2011

My Human Moment 1.13.2011

My OTHER Human Moment 1.14.2011

An Open Door 1.14.2011

Enough 1.15.2011

My Redistributed Heart 1.15.2011

Come and See 1.15.2011

Permission 1.17.2011

Poetically Correct 1.20.11

Love 1.27.11

Student Shots 6.26.11

Jump Over.

My friend Phil went to Zambia with me.

You know Chad the quirky nanny in Jerry Maguire?

"This... is Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Stockholm. 1963... two masters of freedom, playing in a time before their art was corrupted by a zillion cocktail lounge performers who destroyed the legacy of the only American art form -- JAZZ."

Phil isn't actually much like him at all.  But every time Phil gets verbose about jazz, he reminds me of Chad the Nanny, big time.

P Dubs recently started a blog and you can read it here.  I knew he'd probably really enjoy blogging, but, after reading the first post, it was clear that he'd enjoy it and he'd be great at it. He's blogged quite a bit about our time in Africa as well- I've enjoyed his perspective. 

So jump over and give my jazz loving pastor friend some clicks.

Parlez-vous français ?

We're mentoring a refugee family of nine from Chad this year.  I took the kids over to their house this morning for our first meeting- which thankfully, included our friend Amy, who works with refugee families with LSS (and who, btw, lived in Zambia for a year and we now share a common Zam-love) and there was also an interpreter from LSS, who was funny.  I liked him.

My kids know some things about Africa, so that helped.  Funny story- this morning I was doing Patie's hair and she's all, "We've met people with dark skin before.  Remember...." And she proceeded to tell me about a family we met in 2008.  Man- I feel like we see all kinds of skin colors in our city (of course MOST people are white, but...).  So no, she was right.  The last time we were actually friends with someone who has dark skin was in....2008.  Good point, Patie.  Good point. 

Other than that, they knew the basic circumstances around why a refugee family comes here, and especially because I just got back from Africa, we talked a lot about how hard that would be, how far away South Dakota is from Chad, how very different it is here, how cold it is here, and how lonely it would be to be in a strange place and not yet speak the language- and have to find a job there anyway. 

So, OK.  We get there.  I hadn't realized how much of a dive into culture shock this would be for my kids (I just hadn't even thought about it).  But that's good, right?  Just dive right in.  They were a little bit petrified....but in good spirits.  They're troopers.  And, as a plus, they looked super obedient, sitting so still and quiet on the couch, slightly terrified to move. 100% culture shocked into motionlessness.

So, things I expected but that totally surprised my kids-  they had been cooking a big pot of fish.  I could tell Grace was like, "Whoa dog that stinks!" but she held it in.  I confess, four hours later, I can still smell the fish... 

But man this family- they are super warm and inviting and I loved them instantly.

And then we started talking- the scene still busts me up inside. 

Amy and I spoke English.  The father speaks Arabic (in addition to French, Fula and Nigerian).  So the interpreter was there to translate English into Arabic/Arabic to English.  But his wife speaks an indigenous Arabic dialect called Fulfulde that is different enough from common Arabic to necessitate the father to translate the translated Arabic into her dialect (probably similar to an American chatting with an Aussie).  So, this is how it went.  Amy or I said something in English.  Funny witty interpreter guy translates into Arabic, the Dad translates into the dialect, then we all smile and agree with each other in a happy triangle of cultures.  I'm pretty sure my kids' heads were spinning, but again, they sat so nicely and quietly on the couch, looking like it was no big deal.

We chatted a bit, and got a little tour of their home and kitchen.  Just getting back from Zambia, I felt really, really well prepared to meet them.  As we talked, many details of their life in Africa were easy for me to imagine.  The woman wears chitenges- though I am sure they call it something else, and they eat a staple food of....I can't remember what they called it.  They tried and tried to explain it to no success, then showed us what it's made of in the kitchen.  I saw a ginormous bag of white corn meal (like, it's the size of two Hudsons) and we said "OH, like Nshima???"  The wife was relieved we finally got it right.  They also had a fridge full of Pepsi (ah, soft drinks, the great global mediator), some babybel cheese, and injera.  And lots of fruit.  I'm so glad LSS works so hard to give families as smooth a transition into the US as possible-  with a safe, warm home, and simple furniture as well.

We talked more about food, and the wife and I are both VERY excited to cook for one another's families, and to learn language from one another- and especially for our children to do the same.  Their children are 18, 14, 12, 10, 8, 6 and 3- 15 of us in all when we're together- so there's going to be a lot of talking and learning with a group that large.  The father made sure we knew they didn't eat pork twice (they're Moslem), so I made sure that didn't seem like a big deal to me, and also mentioned that we have a lot of neighbors that don't eat pork.  That made him happy, like, "Hey, the American woman doesn't think it's weird that we don't eat pork."  This is fun.

And guess what- no one in the family has had pizza yet- the Nshima of the US, if you will.  So Friday night we're bringing over enough cheese pizza for us all, and some Pepsi too now that I know they're into that, and it's going to be hilarious and fun- especially because we'll be totally on our own. 

We will have nothing but Jim's rusty high school French as a language lifeline as we navigate getting to know one another.  We will probably help them with their English lessons whenever we meet, and we'll be learning French and Arabic from them as we go.  Also, Amy, who is our friend and goes to The Ransom, happens to be coming to our house every Tuesday night while we're at Life Group- so she promised to teach some French to our kids. 

I just absolutely love this family, and have an overwhelming feeling of, "Let's DO this thing!  Almost no common language to start from?  BRING IT ON!"

We said our goodbyes, and I got lots of warm, long African handshakes and to be honest, it made me feel at home.

Afterwards, I had mercy on my culture shocked children and took them out for the most American lunch possible- McDonalds with a Play Place and fries, not apples.  They were thrilled.  As we ate, Patie looked at me and said, "Mom, I'm glad we're doing this.  They need friends and I'm glad we get to be their friends."  And then we had a great conversation- and I can see that, crazy as that translating triangle was, they "get" it, and that makes me glad.

Upcoming Class Dates

It's Monday and it's a good day- and it's time to get shameless.

Yes- I will be teaching at the Museum of Visual Materials this year.  We set some dates before I left for Africa, and from what I hear, they are already filling up.

To simplify my suddenly filled up schedule, I will not be teaching beginner and advanced amateur courses one on one.  I will accept bookings to teach groups of 10 or more (content and price quoted after consultation), and can arrange for travel if your group is outside of the Sioux Falls area (for an additional fee).  Email me for more information @ megankoch@yahoo.com .

Here's the deal- if you feel overwhelmed and underinformed about photography, or your camera, these small, informative classes are what you need.  They're not intimidating, and neither am I- I'm really just a dork, you won't be afraid of me, I promise.  And I'm a natural light purist who cares a lot about honest, real-life photography- I don't get jazzed about flashy studio portraiture.  So my passion is in line with what you need- help in getting great shots with available light, without extra equipment, in your everyday life.

And with each class comes an open invitation to email or call me with questions as you go- for good.  And many of my students take me up on that, and I mean it- I love it.  So, you're getting a lot of information and future help with these classes.

And I'm just going to throw this out there- and wait for the collective gasp, particularly from my parents, bless their hearts-  I'm going back to Zambia.  In 2011.  With Jim.  Details are in their infancy, but it sounds like Zambia is going to let me back in.

So it's time for a shameless plug- these classes are a fantastic start for anyone who wants to jump in to photography and get equipped with some solid skills AND every dime of income I generate is going to be deposited straight into the 2011 Zam-Fund.

Here are the basic details from the Museum's promo materials:

Basic Photography

We will cover the technical and creative basics you'll need to take great photographs with any camera. Our class will be relaxed, informative, and fun!
Length: 1.5 Hours
Cost: $25
Cap on Participants: 12

AVAILABLE DATES: February 15, March 14, and April 18.

DSLR Basics
Learn the core basics to understanding your DSLR camera, how it functions, and how to gain control to begin using it to it's full potential. Grow in confidence and skill with this hands-on informative class.
Length: 1.5 Hours
Cost: $25
Cap on Participants: 8

AVAILABLE DATES: February 22, March 21, and April 25.

I may book some Basic Portraiture classes this summer if time/interest allows.  Those should be a good time.

Contact me with any questions, and Contact Jessica at the Museum, jessica@sfmvm.com , to book a slot in an upcoming class.

A LOT of people have asked me how they can support the people they've met via this blog in the last week.  Visit the Poetice site, get to know the ministry, and feel free to ask me some questions.  And here are a few more simple ways....
 
Feel free to forward around this link like it's hott- a link to all of my posts with a Zambia tab.  I would love for as many people as possible to read about this beautiful place and the people I left my heart with.  Knowledge is power, so pass some on.  As vulnerable as it is to put so much of my heart out there for the world to read, I want to tell as many people as possible about it- so pass it on via your own blog, facebook, email, whatever.  You've got my permission.  And I'm asking you to do it. Please?

Also, feel free to pass on a link to this post, to anyone you know who might want to get some photography skills, and support the 2011 Zam-Fund.
 
And one more thing- lots of people are downloading photos and content from the Africa posts-  It's the Wild Wild West out there on the WWW, and I know I can't control that but- if you ARE using this content elsewhere, use it responsibly and please remember the photographs belong to myself and Poetice and the content belongs to me- so add links to give credit appropriately.  Thanks ya'll.
 
Peace Out.

Permission

A portrait gives us the permission to stare that is forbidden in real life. -Jodi Cobb

This woman haunts me.

It's her expression.  The people I met in Zambia, if they saw my camera and were aware, posed and smiled and ate up the chance to be photographed.  Very sick, tired people would smile and thank me happily just for photographing them, and loved to see their likeness in the viewfinder.

This woman ignored me- she didn't interact with me, she didn't tell me to go, and didn't care if I stayed.  I don't know anything about her, or what, if anything, one of my teammates could tell me about her, or her son- though I'm sure someone prayed with them.  She is tired.  Probably sick.  I have no idea.  But she's still speaking to me.

I have been up in the dark of the night thinking about her.

I didn't conceive this photograph in my mind to be anything remarkable- I simply shot in the moment, thanked her, and passed by. 

It's something in the way the light wraps around their still faces. 

It's in the Christmas streamers - the wrong colors, and strangely out of place here.  And in the deflated balloons that tell so much about this place.

They are a distorted, tragic, Madonna and Child. 

I know nothing about her, but to me, this photograph speaks straight into my heart and there is nothing to be done about it.

She's just there haunting me, and that's it.

Come and See

A good friend left a great question with this post.

"I'm feeling really frustrated from all of this. I haven't been and seen and experienced. I'm sure you've already planned posts about this, but what should I do? I don't know. I want a simple answer, which I know doesn't exist, but I feel an overwhelming guilt about it all - that I don't know what you know, but somehow should and I should do something, but what?"

Well, I don't know.

Or, how about this- our monthly mortgage/escrow payment alone is equal to three year's total income for the average Zambian.

What do I do with that?

I don't know.

Honestly, I was tempted to ask Micah to do a guest post to answer that question.  I'd like to pass it off on him.  But I won't.  That would be awfully lame of me.

I did not spend 2 weeks in Africa and suddenly become an authority on missions, and all I can do is write long blog posts where I work out my own experience so I can process it the best way I know how.  I don't know what the future holds, but I can form my heart into words here, and in the weird complexity of technology, you get to watch if you want. 

I don't know how to answer that, or what anyone should do next. 

And I don't want to send someone on an "eat pray love" journey across the world to get their questions answered- because that probably won't work either.  No, I'm sure it won't work.

But I know about someone who gave her life to the poor and the dying, and left an indelible mark on eternity for it.  So, let's consider Momma T.

Whenever someone asked Mother Teresa what they could do to help her mission in Calcutta, she simply said, "Come and see."

That means something different for every uniquely called person.  But if all I can tell you about is my own experience, then I can tell you it's true.

After all that unrest, I went and I saw and I am not the same.

My Redistributed Heart

I would consider our family to be more informed about poverty-related issues in the world than the typical American household- at least, enough that it felt like we talked about orphans "all the time", phrases like "fair trade" and "slave free" were common to our children's vernacular conversations and worldview, etc.

Honestly, I thought about poverty all the time.  I was burdened by it.  I was always questioning myself.  Always wondering if we were giving "enough".  How much is "enough"?  It's all God's, of course, but, how much should we just give away?  Were we keeping too much?  If we give, where should it go?  I was always uneasy- children without what my children have in the way of even basic necessities were daily on my heart.

We do need burdens like this to mess us up, to keep our perspective fresh, to keep us discerning the heart of God.  But it turns out, I was burdened in ways God never intended.

Once I went and saw, once I'd been welcomed in to their homes, and most importantly, once I'd met so many beautiful people on this journey, something in my heart got loosed.

I didn't know I was chained until I was free. 

This surprised me.  It was unexpected.  I mean, it rocked my world.

It's not about the money anymore.  Not at all. 

I realize once I publish this, no doubt I'm going to be misunderstood.  All I can tell you is my own story- and that's it.  It's not about the money anymore.  Period.

I'm free from guilt about my status, my materialism, and the multitude of things I have.  Does that mean materialism has been erased from my life?  Not at all-  the daily walk of discernment never ends.  But I'm free. 

I have so many things they don't have.  They have so many things I don't have.  We need each other.  We need each other.

My burden before wasn't healthy.  It kept me worried, afraid of messing up.  Honestly, it paralyzed me from doing anything at times, I was so afraid I wasn't doing enough, or that we'd help in the wrong place.

The argument could be made that, instead of spending thousands of dollars to travel to Zambia and talk to people, I could have bought blankets, food, and shoes for an entire compound of people in need.  It's true.  I could have.  But they don't need blankets from me, some American woman 10,000 miles away. 

They need people to come and stand with them.  Someone to pour love and honor into their lives.  Someone to tell them they are beautiful, strong, vital to the world.  To tell those who don't know that there is a God who is for them, who has plans for them that are full of light and life and hope. 

They need to know that someone would spend all the money they have, just to travel to the other side of the world to hold their hand and to see them.

Presence is powerful.

And once that connection has been made my heart, and their heart, is made fuller.  We see each other.  And then, if I give them a blanket, it comes from a sister in love- not from a safely disconnected stranger far far away.  And my heart is open to receive from them as well. 

We are all just so, so needy.

A blanket can be stolen.  No matter what, it will wear out.  But an investment of true love, hope and empowerment lights nations on fire.

Our hearts were so broken for orphans- we knew we'd adopt if God ever made it clear we should.  And we still would.

But we want to be a part of a revolution that erases the need for orphanages and relief organizations altogether. 

That isn't easy.  It's not simple like buying 3000 blankets would be.  The work is messy, long, hard, and it takes a life commitment.  The results are priceless, but not quantifiable.  It provokes what Shane Claiborne calls the "tension between efficiency and faithfulness".  It doesn't make you feel good and satisfied like you've done your part.  It wrecks you for life, and it's beautiful.

I encountered true religion in Zambia, and I will never be the same.  I saw examples of sacrificial love and community that I ache for in my own life.  I saw something so beautiful in the hearts of my brothers and sisters there- and I need them to teach me.  I'm humbled they'd invite me in.  I'll greedily take up all they want to give me.

I don't see an impossible chasm between us anymore.  I just see hope. 

I see that redistribution doesn't have to be complicated.  We just need to live with one another, serve with one another, to daily hold one another up.  And then I think we'll find the redistribution of riches- theirs and ours- will happen quite naturally on it's own.

I first read this book several years ago, and I worked through it again this week.  With everything that's swelling in my heart since returning home, it's been one solid affirmation after another.  I never could have fully grasped this before my time in Zambia...

"Simplicity is meaningful only inasmuch as it is grounded in love, authentic relationships, and interdependence.  Redistribution then springs naturally out of our rebirth, from a vision of family that is larger than biology or nationalism.  As we consider what it means to be "born again," as the evangelical jargon goes, we must ask what it means to be born again into a family in which our sisters and brothers are starving to death.  Then we begin to see why rebirth and redistribution are inextricably bound up in one another, as a growing number of evangelicals have come to proclaim. It also becomes scandalous for the church to spend money on windows and buildings when some family members don't even have water.  Welcome to the dysfunctional family of Yahweh.

So it's important to understand that redistribution comes from community, not before community.  Redistribution is not a prescription for community.  Redistribution is a description of what happens when people fall in love with each other across class lines."

-Shane Claiborne, The Irresistible Revolution, p. 163

Enough

There is so much need in the world- even in my own back yard.  Why go to Zambia?  Why make plans to return, when we can invest in other things?

These questions have been inferred in conversations I've had- They are honest, good questions.  The answer came easily when I asked myself the same things.

To be straight up honest- something permanent happened to me in Zambia.  I don't know a better way to describe it than that it's like my arm was amputated, and I can never go back (and I don't want to).  I'm changed for good.  My heart has been won over by this place, these people.  I'm devoted to join with them, to support them, to serve and love God together with them.  That's it.  It's not a post-mission trip mountain top high (in fact, most of this trip was spent in the valley).  It's not our cause-of-the-moment.

Why did I fall in love with Jim, and not some other man?  Why are we called to The Ransom, and not some other church?  Why do we live where we live and work where we work?

I don't know why we're devoted to these things.

But I know God orchestrated it.

And I know it's good.

That's enough for me.

Spectacled.

My Cup Overflows

I sat down this morning to process my thoughts on Zambia some more, and threw down some rough draft plans for the rest of the Africa blog posts (the ones directly related to this trip, anyway).  I have about 10+ more posts to write over the next couple of weeks- thanks for reading.  Words and photographs are the best way I know how to process anything, and so blogging it all out has been wonderful for me as I've returned home to the land of shiny Targets, Starbucks, hand soap, and private, closed-off people.

So- More Africa to come next week.  In the meantime..................................

Since I was gone for a couple of weeks, and the kids were away, the girls missed out on a couple of nights of Awana.  And I didn't remember to have them work on it since I've been back.  And then it was Wednesday. 

They wanted to get caught up with their friends, so they learned the whole passage in one sitting, on their own.  Lest I think the crammed verses wouldn't stick, they both repeated it several times.

Stop.  Stop it girls. I can't handle this kind of cuteness.

Grace



and Patience



I absolutely love that sticker on Grace's hand from her orange at lunch, and all the Play Doh stuck to Patie's sleeve.  I love you ladies.  My cup overflows.

An Open Door.

I started to get educated about poverty, orphans, modern day slavery, and human trafficking in 2004.

I had one baby girl, and was expecting another.  Having children caused me to step outside of myself like nothing else ever could.  And I saw how fiercely I loved them.  I wanted only good for them, for them to grow and thrive. I wanted to protect their purity, and teach them to fight evil with love that overcomes.

I saw that if they were stolen from me, I could never stop fighting for them.

And I saw that for all I feel for them, God lives a greater love for each one of us- and my sweet children are not more important than any other child.

So where did that leave me?

The problems of the world, here at home and elsewhere, are overwhelming.  My mother heart just ached at the thought of orphans, widows, stolen innocence.  To ignore it is a sin.  But what do we do with all this awareness?  That's another post altogether.  But what I want to say is- I was dying to act on their behalf.  To seek justice and live aware of my actions and how they may help or hurt people thousands of miles away.

These people were very close to my heart for a long time.  And though it would have been easier to ignore them and enjoy my very good life, I worked to press into it with God.

And over the years, He showed us ways we can live justly as a family, as citizens of the world.  He also slowly just let me sit in the enormity of the problems of the world, feeling quite helpless to stop it, clinging to the hope that with God all things are possible, and the truth that He is ever-present with the neglected and exploited.

And over time, I slowly let go of my romantic notions of saving the world.  I let go of the possibility that I could do any good in my own strength.  I let go of thinking I could sweep in and rescue anyone.

I was dying to do something for years.  And over time, I was able to let go of my ideas that I could do anything that would last on my own.

But something else grew in me instead.  Love. 

I got to the point that I promised God even if He guaranteed me that absolutely no good would come out of me going to minister to orphans- that nothing would change- I still wanted to go, the compelling of my heart to just love them was so great.

And then a door opened.  And I got to go.