Sunday, November 8, 2009

Sundays in Zambia

This is my new (hopefully) weekly feature talking about my time in Zambia. All the pictures are being scanned from my scrapbook pages - just in case you wonder about the odd shapes, or captions.

Although I don’t plan to necessarily go in chronological order, I decided that I would start near the beginning for this week’s post. My fellow journey-folk & I had 6 weeks of boot camp, er training, in Virginia in the summer of 1986, then were sent home to get ready to head to our respective countries. I was in awe of the folks headed to China & West Africa – those destinations seemed a lot scarier than mine. I was assigned to work in Harare, Zimbabwe – I wasn’t even going to be in the bush!

Zimbabwe denied my work permit – rightly saying that they didn’t see why a Zimbabwean couldn’t do the work of secretary-bookkeeper. I waited for four months before the Foreign Mission Board was able to find me a new assignment – Lusaka, Zambia. I found out in November – and after sending all of my paperwork to the Lusaka Baptist Mission twice (they obviously needed my services LOL), I set out on my grand adventure on a plane flying out of the Charlotte, North Carolina airport. Here is what I wrote in my journal that day:


Tuesday, January 13, 1987


I feel very alone now. God, are you there? Give me strength. Strength to face my impracticalities and do something about them. My carry-on bag will not fit – so I must check it in Atlanta. Why does that bother me so much? Because it makes me feel foolish and I don’t like feeling foolish.

Saying goodbye is so hard. I can see Mom & Dad standing at the window and that’s when I start to cry. I’m not supposed to cry – this is my adventure. A year and a half isn’t so very long. It’s time for me to grow up.

Sometimes I wonder if I set things in motion just because I know I won’t stop it – and I know it’s good for me. Is this really God’s will for my life? Can I really know the answer?

I ended up being able to carry my bag onto the plane in Atlanta – the stewardess was VERY helpful. And this was a good thing, because the airline lost my luggage. But that’s a story for another day…


7 comments:

  1. I don't think I could pick up and move to Zambia.

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  2. I am in awe of that. I wish I had done something like that when I was 'inbetween'. But then my life would have turned out so different. I wouldn't have had the support of my parents for one thing. Would I have met Husband?

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  3. I so wanted to do a year with YWAM when I was 19 but my parents would not allow it. My second daughter attended a Year for Christ at Shiloh Go School and part of this year they spent in Mozambique at a mission. I will be following your "adventures" closely. Thanks for sharing it with us.

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  4. It takes courage and an adventurous nature to go for a year and a half to an unknown ,different world.

    You look lovely in the clock-calendar mid picture.

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  5. Aren't you glad you kept a journal? What a wonderful experience it must have been. Hope to hear more about it!

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  6. I love the clock-timeline from your scrapbook! You must feel very fortunate to have both photos and a journal to keep those memories close.

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  7. Oh how lovely this is going to be! Yes, diaries and letters are such good reminders. I am looking forward to each one of your posts! If I had not met my husband at such an early age, I think I would have chosen such a path, too. Zambia surely was different from your own world! I wonder how you felt the minute you stepped down from the plane. Waiting!

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Thanks for stopping by - I'd love to hear what you have to say!