Current states: living in a village near Kasungu, Malawi. The house the team and I are staying in comes with a squatty potty, bucket showers, a wall of corn, a family (2 parents, 4 kids, and a granddaughter), the 7 of us, and one of the pastors who is partnered with us.
Our room is 7 by 12 feet. No joke. The team measured it. 3 of them share a twin bed and the other 4 of us are on sleeping mats under a bug net on the floor. There is a hole off the room where all of the packs go, but otherwise, there’s really not any other space.
One of the pastors calls this “living on mission.”
It’s hard, not having space, or the ability to control much of any part of your environment. Even as I sit here typing this, the family has a rap song playing on loop at full volume. For those of you who know me well, sound is one of my triggers. It’s improved dramatically, but few things can push me over the edge than uncontrollable sound.
All of the things I’ve said are facts. And generally, simplicity is something I love. There’s just something about needing to use a headlamp to go brave the squatty potty in the dark, knowing you’ll have cockroaches watching over your visit. Using a mug to dump water over yourself to take a shower honestly leaves you feeling extremely accomplished. Washing laundry by hand? Shoot, bring it on. The Lord speaks to me in the simple moments.
He also has a habit of waking me up for the sunrise.
For three days in a row, He woke me up at 5:30am, 5:28am, and 5:31am. Though I was somewhat irritated, He had something to say each time.
Sunrise Lesson One: I actually got to watch a spectacular sunrise. The clouds turned from pink to white. The lesson? When uncertainty in life comes, it can be like waiting for the sun to rise: patiently anticipating something marvelous.
Sunrise Lesson Two: It was extremely cloudy and only brief hints of the sun’s movement were visible. On this day, He told me that we sometimes need to wake up to acknowledge the blind faith we’re walking and then go back to resting in His presence while He does the work.
Sunrise Lesson Three: No sign of the sun. Completely overcast. It was one of those days that makes your soul feel like a good cry and nap would suffice. He told me I needed to cry, which I shrugged off and went back to sleep. During my time with Him later, I started crying 5 minutes in and realized it was His way of tending to my soul. There was emotion I wasn’t fully aware was present, but He knew.
Simplicity in the sunrise lessons. I’ll keep waking up because He seems to have a lot to say.
