Jesus Worldwide: Tanzania

Have you ever read the Jesus Worldwide posts and wished you could keep up with a missionary or team while on the field rather than waiting until they return?

Well, pack your bags and come with me!

There's a team of Compassion Bloggers in Tanzania right now. Even though I'm eating food my stomach enjoys, sleeping days and nights the American way, and not taking anti-malaria medicine (rejoice!), I'm in Tanzania... mentally.

Follow their journey here:
Blogs
Twitter

Let me introduce you to the team:

The Nester who met Hospitality in Tanzania.

Kelli thinks Minivans are Hot and she's not callous to the amazing work of Compassion.

Gussy's purpose is stitched up in Him.

Scott has a watch that the children are mesmerized by.

Amy's learning to hope like a child.

Jolanthe is looking at the practical things Compassion is doing.

Team leader Shaun Groves is building a Third World Dictionary.

Team leader Keely's got an amazing eye for photography.

Don't just take my word for it. Go check out their blogs.

And consider sponsoring a child in Tanzania.

<>< Katie

PS: If you have a story to tell and want to brag on how God is working around the globe, I'd love to hear it. KatieAxelson[at]gmail[dot]com.

World Malaria Day

If you've never slept under mosquito netting, it's a weird sensation. It's kind of entrapping but also kind of nice because it means the mosquitoes are out there and you're in here. I used to do it when we went camping.

Mumu sleeps under mosquito netting every night.

If you've never taken anti-malaria medicine, it's a weird sensation. First, the look on people's faces when you tell them you're taking medicine for malaria is priceless. Second, the nausea that accompanies it is very much unpleasant.

During college, I spent a month studying abroad in what the CDC declared a malaria risk area of Costa Rica. Which meant every Tuesday for nine weeks, I choked down a nasty pink pill that stole my appetite and left me feeling miserable.

Every Tuesday I regretted being cautious and going to the travel doctor before my trip. (Yes, I now do a happy dance when I'm traveling somewhere and don't have to take chloroquine).

Every Tuesday, I regretted arguing with the pharmacist to get five pills when my insurance only wanted me to have four for the first filling. ("I can't come get a refill while I'm in Costa Rica.")

Every Tuesday, I remembered that I could not give blood for a year.

Every Tuesday I remembered how truly blessed I am.

I had access to a doctor whose primary job is to educate travelers like me on tips for living abroad and things to carry in their own personal pharmacy (most of which I actually used).

I had access to medicine to prevent a disease that kills one child every thirty to forty-five seconds. (How long has it taken you to read this? I bet more than thirty seconds).

I had more Off! than I'd ever need just to keep those pesky mosquitoes away from my medicated blood.

Any mosquito bites I did get, were just annoying and itchy not life-threatening.

I didn't have to worry about suffering from a completely preventable, treatable disease.

I care about malaria.

If the medication to prevent it made me feel so nasty, I can't imagine what the disease itself must be like.

To many people around the world, the horrors of malaria are not just imagined but rather a very real, cruel reality they face every day.

Organizations like Lutheran Malaria Initiative and Compassion are bringing hope and help to people in malaria risk-areas.

You can help by sponsoring a child in a malaria risk area.

You can help by purchasing mosquito netting for people living in Africa.

You can help by spreading the word about malaria.

You can help by praying for the people living (and traveling) in malaria risk areas.

Thank you!
<>< Katie

(Yes, I'm a Compassion Blogger which means sometimes they send me post suggestions. This was not one of them).

Being Called

Our conversation was brief. Just long enough to drive from the coffee shop back to her dorm.

She spoke about how she was studying for a test in her missiology class. We spoke about Compassion. I mentioned that I'm a writer. She said she feels called by God to open an orphanage in a specific African country.

I wanted to practice asking questions. Why that specific country? What did her call look like? Why start an orphanage rather than work for an existing one? For once I had no shortage of questions.

We did have a shortage of time. So I packed my questions away to save for a future opportunity.

As I drove home I wondered what it would be like to have such a clear calling on my life. To know--at the start of my college career or earlier--what I wanted to do for God's kingdom. I figured it must be nice.

I'm just a writer with a degree and no idea where God's calling her to step next. I was jealous of her and admired her all at the same time. I wanted my own clear calling.

I saw her again two day later. Before I could pour out my question box, she mentioned that maybe she wasn't interested in that specific country. She'd heard some terrifying things that had happened there. Part of me wanted to tell her not to give up her dreams. The other part of me breathed a sigh of relief.

She's just like me: some clue of what to do but no idea what it will actually look like once she gets there. She didn't get a jet-stream message from the Lord. Her confidence was as thin as mine when I said I was a writer.

True, I am a writer. A freelance writer. A ghostwriter. A professional writer. An underpaid/underemployed writer. A blog-writer. I didn't say all of that. I just said, "Writer." It sounds better that way.

True, she's studying missiology (the study of missions) because she's got a heart for missions. True she wants to care for orphans. True she loves Compassion as much as I do. Maybe true she'll start her own orphanage and maybe true it'll be in that specific African country. But who knows.

God does.

And right now, He's not telling.

For either of us.

<>< Katie

Waiting

Let me tell you something you probably already know: waiting stinks.

Waiting for your oil to be changed, waiting in line at the grocery store, waiting for the bus.

Waiting for a company to post an opening, waiting for a manager to want you on her team, waiting for the phone to ring.

Waiting for someone on the other side of the world to say, "I've never met you but I love you."

As of when I'm writing this, there are 407 Compassion children who have been waiting, waiting, waiting for more than 180 days for a sponsor. That's six months or longer.

Where were you 180 days ago? That would have been September 2, 2011.

A forgettable day, perhaps? Too long ago to remember?

Not for Walson. One-hundred-and-eighty-three days ago Walson was at a Compassion Child Development Center in Haiti signing up to be a sponsored child. Walson has spent the last 183 days waiting for a sponsor.


Sponsor Walson here
His child ID number: HA8150328

On the Compassion website, the children that have been waiting for more than 180 days are marked with a heart.

It seems only appropriate.

When you're waiting, you need someone to love you and love on your. With every day of waiting, hope seems to dwindle.

Two-hundred-and-ninety-five days ago I walked across a stage and received the most important piece of paper of my life so far. Having spent almost 300 days unemployed/underemployed, I understand waiting. It's miserable.

There are things I can do (am doing) to bring my wait to an end. I can pray, pray, cry, and pray. I can network, I can apply for jobs, I can make cold-calls.

When you're waiting for a sponsor, there's not much you can do but wait and pray.

I've been waiting in hope.

These children are waiting for hope.

For fresh water. For medical care. For education. For someone to say, "I believe in you."

These 407 children waiting for sponsors want to be wanted. They need to be wanted. They deserve to be wanted, to be cared for, to be loved.

During my days of waiting, I've had so many great friends pray for me, offer suggestions, and pull me into their arms as I cry again. They've loved, encouraged, and held me. I appreciate every single one of them! (Yes, even the job suggestions that don't fit my skill set).

This is my plea: do the same for a child.

In turn, you're doing it for me.

The words "Thank you!" don't seem sufficient. If you decide to sponsor a longest waiting child (which I hope you do!) Compassion will give you a scrapbook for you to use to keep your letters, photos, et al.

What are you waiting for?
<>< Katie

Jesus Worldwide: Philippines

From Katie: Summer 2010 my then-roommate Jennifer got to spend eight days in the Philippines visiting Jamsell, the child she sponsors through Compassion International. These are her photos and stories as she told them to me. Her biggest regret is not journaling more, but she can't wait to go back in a few years when Jam is older. <>< Katie

No matter how many photos or videos you see, you don't realize how real poverty is until you get there. I returned to the States asking, "Why do I have this? I don't need it." The first day we learned about how Compassion is combating poverty in Jesus' name.

On the second day we visited a church partner of Compassion's. Our team split into groups of five to visit homes and pray with families. Five people lived in the walk-in-closet-size home we visited. They had one flat futon-sized bed where all four children slept and the parents slept on the floor with no cushions and minimal blankets. Their front door was made of a cloth, a bowl served as the sink, and they had an outdoor bathroom. However, there was a plastic drawer set and in those drawers were the cherished letters from the child's sponsor.

The third day was the hardest. We visited a larger (though still small) church and child development center. We were welcomed by children chanting and singing.

Every sponsored child has a folder with all of his/her information, letters exchanged, photos, report cards, etc.

We then visited an above ground cemetery that was filled with trash and homes. People were living in a place that should be reserved for the dead. The cemetery was surrounded by a wall that also had tombs in it, then there was a walkway barely wide enough for one person before another wall. People live in the small space between the second wall and a nearby creek that regularly floods the cemetery (and homes).

Between the second wall and the creek is the home of Princess. She wants to grow up to be a nurse and be able to move her family out of the flood plain. Right now their home serves as the cemetery market. At 5'5", I had to duck in order to enter it. They have bunkbeds with a board, tarp-plastic for sheets, and a pillow. They are lucky enough to have a tv that plays movies, but they only have one movie. Their house also contains trinkets and things they've found.

We sprayed Princess's family's home for cockroaches, left, returned, and prayed for them. While we were praying a dead cockroach fell on my head. When we left the area, children followed us out, surrounded us, held up "I love you" on their hands, and chased the bus as we drove away.

On day four we visisted another church and split into groups (each containing one guy) and lived with a family for the day. My family lived in a neighborhood with houses almost on top of each other it was so hard to move.

Our family had both a fridge and a tv. They are Christians and spoke openly about God's blessings. The mom painted fingernails for a living. Each manicure costs one dollar, and she typically did four a day. She made four dollars a day. The trip leader got a mani-pedi and paid extra for it; it was soooooo appreciated!

We rode a jeepney, a WWII bus-like transportation, that costs only seven cents but most people cannot afford it. It took us to a school on the mountain just to visit. It was small and packed with people. They loved to have their pictures taken and asked for autographs.

They color live chicks and sell them in order to make money.

The Philippines is ranked fourth in the world for the number of child prosititutes. This problem comes from pimps trying to have sex with children and parents selling their children due to poverty.

Day five we spent sitting in on classes at a school. We went over Bible verses, sang, and danced. For snack we had a choice between cheese or cookies and cream ice cream. I had the cheese ice cream. The students also made a craft book about themselves, and all of the girls gave their books to me.

Cheese ice cream tastes like graham crackers.

A lot of people are jealous of the Compassion children. Compassion supports as many children as possible but parents must put them into the program.

Day six was the best day ever! *squeal* It was the day we were all waiting for because we got to meet our sponsored children! Our sponsored children and their parents were standing on the steps with their project leader (translator) when we arrived and everyone recognized each other. We went to an aquarium in Manila and a huge mall/play area. At age 6, Jamsell understands English but does not really speak it. She was very quiet, but we began bonding over a silly game, laughing, and simple math problems. When we watched a movie, Jam fell asleep in my lap.

Their teeth were rotted out which shows poverty. Jam's mom Rowena told me (in English) about their family's hardships: they live with Jam's grandparents who don't want them but they can't move out due to financial challenges. I got to pray over the family.

We ate lunch at a McDonalds-like restaurant. I gave Jamsell a backpack full of school supplies, bracelets, and gifts including a picture frame that now has our picture in it and an umbrella that had been a gift from a friend at home. When they left, Rowena and Jamsell were still using their old umbrella because they did not want to get the new one dirty. I wish I would have included a Bible in the bag.

Our last day (day seven) we visited a church where it was so hot my camera lens fogged up. The children danced and sang in English. After the farewell dinner, children shared their testimonies.

They talked about how bad childhood had been but how it was a blessing because it meant they could be sponsored. If it had not been for Compassion, many of them said they would not be Christians. They said they could not wait to grow up and sponsor children of their own.