Choose joy

If you've seen me on the basketball court, you've seen a scary side of Katie. On the court there was somewhat of a "Dr. Jekyll" and "Mr. Hide" transformation and I scared even myself on occasion. (see picture) Frustrated so often with myself and my mistakes, I would take my anger out on the opponent (hence the reason I fouled out of almost every game) and sadly, my own teammates. I once a bit a teammates head off after she slapped me on the butt (for the record, I hate when people do that but I realize it's no reason to scream at them) Seeing how I would lose perspective during games and get down on myself, my friend Meredith and I decided to help each other. She didn't have the anger issues like myself but she would lose sight of what is important during games as well. We talked about how even if we were having a bad game, we could still choose to be joyful and decided we needed accountability. So whenever Mere noticed me grinding my teeth and losing perspective, she would run, or rather bounce by (if you've seen her play, you know what I mean) and would simply say, "choose joy" and I would do the same for her. This was pretty brave on her part seeing as I yelled at a teammate for hitting my butt. Those 2 words made a huge different in my game. Choose joy. Happiness seems to be dependent upon circumstance, but joy, that is a gift from God but also a choice. I'm sure you're wondering by now why I'm reminiscing about my "glory days" instead of telling you about Africa. Well since I've been here, I've been constantly reminded and convicted about what true joy looks like and how I too often choose NOT to be joyful. I'll elaborate later. (for the record, the picture was a joke. I never wore head bands and I don't know how I held that facial expression for so long- but this was the only picture I had on a digital camera. Sorry Katie, you must hate me by now but at least you don't look like a junior higher like I do.)


I fear that my motives for wanting to go to the rural church are quite selfish. I love to go because the joy I witness in this amazing village is contagious and I want it. We drove out to Shiparango again and when we arrived, the first people we saw were 2 of the boys who came to the service the previous time. The boy with the incredibly bloated belly was wearing a giant, dirt-stained, over-sized button down shirt to hide his belly and was giving his younger brother a " bath." A bath means the poor boy was stark naked, sitting on a log while his older brother gently scrubbed his body with a wet rag. What I didn't mention was that it was freezing on Sunday morning. I didn't think to pack my scarves and mittens for Africa but it is colder in the bush and is still the middle of winter. It was especially cold on this particular morning and the young lad getting the bath was shaking and in tears as his older brother tried to quickly finish. I was fully clothed (one would hope) and still was shivering so it was difficult to watch this naked boy suffer while his brother washed him with cold water. Tears still on his cheeks, the now freshly-scrubbed boy was the first to arrive under the tree for the service in shorts, a t-shirt, a piece of cloth wrapped around his shoulders and no shoes. His dried tears and shivering broke my heart so I did what my mom would do to warm me up and went behind him and quickly rubbed his arms. This made him laugh hysterically, (still not totally sure why- I wasn't trying to be funny) and he stopped shivering and finally smiled.

Some of the village men started showing up and Madalena suggested building a fire since it was so cold. I pretended like I was on "Survivor" and collected sticks with the men. Let me just say that these guys would kick butt on Survivor. They built the fire faster than I could say, "Outwit, outplay, outlast" and with only one tiny match. I didn't know bonfires were possible without lighter fluid:) Then again, I didn't make it too far in girl scouts. We soon had a nice size flame that became the focal point of the "church" as the congregation huddled around the fire to stay warm during the service. One thing that I discovered is universal: everyone hates when the wind shifts and smoke blows in your eyes.

With the fire going, soon the kids started to join and sing to alert other village members that church was starting. The kids huddled around the fire as we sang and Madalena led us in an amazing rendition of "Father Abraham" to try to get everyone moving and warmer. Her message was about how Jesus is the bread of life and we had brought 10 loaves of fresh bread to help illustrate the message. She broke out the bread and it was torn and passed throughout the circle so everyone got their share. I couldn't help but think of taking communion at home and how I always look for the biggest piece of saltine cracker when I skip breakfast:) We weren't taking communion though, simply enjoying literal bread together as Mada explained how Jesus is needed as badly as bread. (I'm assuming here since I don't speak Portuguese. However, I almost fooled the woman I was sitting next to that I do speak Portuguese and she asked me a question so I cocked my head as if I was pondering her question and then replied, "Si," hoping she had asked a yes or no question. When she asked another question and I said, "Nao," she looked at me like I was an alien and my cover was blown.) You'll notice in the picture that it was a smaller group this Sunday, I'm guessing because of the cold. Also notice how though we don't have chairs, the men and women sit apart from each other.

Perhaps you remember the boy I mentioned in a previous entry that is missing his right hand. I was thrilled to see him walking with a pep in his step to the tree, holding a baby with his right arm while toting a plastic, blue chair with his left hand. He was clad in the same outfit from the last time I saw him- a blue shirt with stripes, filthy jeans a bright smile and eyes that radiate joy. He again was on "baby patrol," constantly whiping noses of the little ones while his own snot dried to his face. I don't know if I've ever seen Jesus as clearly as I do when I watch this boy. Look for him in the video. He's the one in the center of the half circle, clapping wildly and seeing his little heart out. We sang one song requiring a jump and throwing your hands in the air at the end and you could see the anticipation building in his mind as we came close to the end and his smile grew wider and wider. When we reached that part of the song, he leapt with crazy enthusiasm and threw his hands up, giggling and smiling all the while. I wasn't the only one with my eyes glued on him. I noticed all the men watching him too, smiling. His joy truly is contagious and noticed and appreciated by not just me. Click on the link to watch and listen to the congregation singing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=piQpPiIdHtI

Sitting with the women this time, I was reminded of my own friends and I at church. (except for the part where they breast fed during the service- luckily none of my friends have done this. I try so hard to be mature and not get awkward but this seems to be a cultural thing I may never get used to.) Anyways, these beautiful women whispered jokes to each other and then cracked up during the service. I was the nerdy outsider who laughed too although I didn't know why we were laughing but was trying to fit in.

During the service I also often caught the eye of the boy with the belly and tried to get as many bashful grins out of him as possible. His expression seems hard as stone at first, but his darling smile lights up his whole face, removing his tough exterior to expose the vulnerable, hurting, but joyful spirit inside. This is the face that is ingrained in my memory. This is one of the faces that I hope is fresh in my mind years from now as I think about Mozambique. In the group shot, he's the one hiding behind the plastic chair.

I cracked up to myself when a cell phone rang during the service (what the heck?) and when a man got up and sat apart from the group to have a cigarette. He was still smoking when the plastic bag/offering basket was passed and I loved how one of the women held up the bag and called out to him that they were collecting offering. He played the "I can't hear you card" but she was calling so loudly that pretty soon everyone was laughing. It reminded me of the time my roommate was leaving for Spring Break and I obnoxiously yelled out the window, "Hey Jenny! You forgot your bible!"

One of my favorite times is at the end of the service when we sing and walk around to shake hands with everyone. I confess that I'm not a huge fan of the "meet and greet" time at home. Don't judge me for my anti-social tendencies, I'm just not too great at small talk. But this time is great- perhaps because since I can't say anything, no small talk is required and I do know how to shake hands. The kids all giggle when I shake their hands and I want to think of more ways to show them I care about them with physical contact. ( I did not mean to sound like child-molester there) I showed the kids the video I had taken of the song they had sung an hour before and the reaction was hilarious. There was an uproar of laughter and amazement as they watched themselves on the camera. Even better, one of the women heard the commotion and watched and then took the camera to show all the adults who all stared in wonder and then doubled-over in laughter. Yes, I need to use technology to make friends.

As Mada and I walked back to the car, the kids skipped along with us singing. Hoping to capture this precious moment (no, not those strange figurines), I tried to covertly take out my camera and video them. However, I've mentioned that I'm no CIA agent and right away they noticed the camera and posed for a picture. I swear, they are worse than cheerleaders when a camera is around! So I tried to signal to them to keep singing by moving my hand in a circular motion (yes, the universal sign for keep singing) but, as you'll see in the video clip, they thought I was teaching them a dance move and all imitated me. That is why you hear my voice cut in. (Does anyone else abhor the sound of their own voice on camera or on the phone? ) Please also take note of the girl in the purple sweater and torn dress. She is always dressed in worse rags than the others and I nearly cried when we got in the car and I saw a boy try to take something from her and tore her dress completely in half. She started bawling and I nearly lost it. I asked Mada about her and Mada said she must be a relative because she is not cared after as well as some of the other kids. If you want to pray for specific people in Africa, pray for her. I still don't know her name- hopefully I'll have more time next Sunday, but God knows who she is and knows her situation. Click on the link to watch these precious ones sing with Madalena.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fyMmgxGVm-g


OK, so back to my original point about joy. Did you forget that I started this entry with a mention of joy? Meredith and I talked a lot about how joy is a choice but these kids embody the principle. Just today I realized that sometimes, I prefer not to choose joy. I've been irritable the past few days (yes I'll blame it on PMS but it's more than that) and have been annoyed by the silliest of things. If I told you, you would think less of me. My frustrations had been growing and though I tried to stifle them, they only grew worse. Without consciously acknowledging it, I was throwing myself a pity party- "boo hoo, this and that is annoying and I have every right to be annoyed and irritable and bratty because of it." Before I got on the computer to write an e-mail complaining to my friends that I was annoyed, I decided to go for a walk and complain to Jesus first. After journaling a solid page of whining, He reminded me of the joyful boy. That boy CHOOSES joy. He could have some pretty rockin pity parties, but he CHOOSES to be joyful. You know that joy is a choice Katie, so why are you choosing to be annoyed rather than choosing to be joyful. "I don't WANT to be annoyed God. It's not my fault that I'm annoyed. I would rather not be." But you ARE choosing to be annoyed. You would rather focus on the inconveniences around you and feel sorry for yourself, than let it go and be joyful. "Oh. Crap. You're right."

Why is it that I would CHOOSE a pity-party over joy? Why wallow in self-pity rather than swim in the "unsearchable riches of Christ?" I know I should choose to let things go and be joyful but sometimes I actually prefer to stay bitter. Why? Simple, my pride. Not wanting to admit my own shortcomings and preferring to blame situations and others instead. Point the finger anywhere but at myself. Justify my bitter thoughts by thinking I have every right to be bitter. Exaggerate my goodness and minimize my sin while exaggerating others' sins and minimizing their goodness. Refuse to choose joy because I prefer to "be right" in my bitterness. Yowsers...God gave me another very scary glimpse into my dark heart and my HUGE need for His grace today. Don't get me wrong, things are still going smoothly over here. I don't want my somewhat vague comments to lead you to believe I'm having major struggles, I'm not. But I have been letting bitter thoughts creep in and at times have been choosing self-pity rather than joy.

Now when I get annoyed or sense negative thoughts creeping in, I am going to try to picture the boy with the missing hand and remember that I do have a choice. I can choose to justify my negativity and be "right" in my bitter, irritated attitude, or I can choose to repent, ask for grace and choose joy. I was reminded of the verse in 2ND Corinthians Chapter 10, verse 5: "...we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ." My pity parties and negativity are not thoughts that would be pleasing to Christ and I hope to wrestle them to the ground, take them captive, and make those thoughts obedient, and choose joy over self-pity.

I wrote the previous paragraphs in this entry last night and put them into practice today. When I felt a negative thought creep in that was not obedient to Christ, I literally giggled. I giggled because I have a vivid imagination and saw myself jumping and pouncing on an unknown object and wrestling it to the ground. Visions of myself sparring in self-defense class and yelling, "Eyes! Eyes! Eyes!" came rushing back and I couldn't help but laugh. This same image of myself wrestling an inanimate object came to mind SEVERAL times today when I was faced with the choice to choose negativity or choose joy. God is so great. I have so many reasons to be joyful and He has already begun to answer my prayer that I would be reminded daily to choose joy.

I feel bad for not including many pictures in this entry. I was thinking, "what images of "joy" do I have on my computer that I could include?" Well my family brings me tons of joy and here they are in fine form. My beautiful sister.
Plus my handsome brother-in-law.
Equals an adorable nephew.
My good-looking dad.
And my gorgeous mom.Equals two very attractive twin brothers.
I include these normal shots solely because I was afraid you might think my nephew is scary looking and I wanted to show you how cute he really is.