At the start of the new year, I started to feel restless.
For at least two years now, I have had a desire to return to my country of birth, and DO something. Anything. I knew that there was a need – for education, for resources – here in Zimbabwe.
That burden has laid uncomfortably on my heart.
I’ve wrestled with my own inadequacy. My fears. My little faith.
Until finally, last Friday, I saw muddy water burst forth from the ground, and suddenly, it all made sense.
“You Don’t Get To Be SuperWoman,” Whispered God
I have less than 48 hours left in Zimbabwe now.
As my trip draws to a close, one thing that has been apparent to me throughout my whole trip is just how small I am.
I am one, deeply flawed human being. Just one.
Not a millionaire. Just a teacher from Florida.
There are people – hundreds, thousands, perhaps a few million people – here who are surviving a different, difficult daily life. This actually feels like another world.
And there is this temptation – a very attractive temptation – to sink very deep into hopelessness.
Because when you are surrounded by a situation that has been so bad for so long, you think to yourself, “What can I do?”
“What difference does it make for me to come and try to fix one school, dig one borehole for water, or help one community?”
I think that the most profound thing that God has impressed upon me during this trip is that if I can get past myself, if I can get over ME, then I can be used as an instrument to change a life. Just one.
So now I find my rest in that thought.
Just one more person on this planet (that we all share) can drink clean water now?
Ok. That’s enough for me.
The Prettiest Mud That I Have Ever Seen
We stayed at lodges last Thursday night in Muzarabani, located in North Zimbabwe.
(You can read all about the roughness of last Thursday in my last blog post!)
Friday morning, we woke around 6 am to drive over to Hwata Secondary School.
It was a short drive from where we were staying.
We arrived at the school before the students, but they soon started to walk onto the school grounds.
As they began school for the day in assembly, Cora and I visited each of the classrooms, talking with the kids and teachers about the needs of this high-school of 200+ pupils.
Some of the students, assembled for morning prayer.
They were excited about the borehole we were drilling.
They were excited about us, the strange American teachers who came to say hello.
It did feel a little surreal, meeting all the children that I have been praying about for all these months.
The kids sat at run-down desk, copying notes off of cracked chalkboards, underneath roofs with little holes here and there. Luckily, it’s winter here right now, so it hasn’t rained for a while, but can you imagine going to school with a leaky roof during the rainy season?
I guess what struck me most about the school was that there was no running water. They had an old water source that was barely operating.
In fact, the whole time we were there, the little water I saw come out of the little pump went to the cows next to the school. The water was just fit for cows.
So, we called the kids out for a big assembly to commence the drilling of the borehole.
We said a few words.
We praised God for the blessing of this new borehole and water.
And then, the ADRA Zimbabwe crew began drilling.
We hit sand and rock and other things that threatened the borehole.
It took SO long, that we ended up having to send the kids back to class.
But eventually, we saw the prettiest mud fly out of the earth.
Vura! Vura! Vura! I yelled in my broken Shona.
We finally hit the water.
This looks like mud.
But it signified that we didn’t need to drill deeper – we hit the water! 🙂
I have so much more to tell about Hwata, and all that happened, but hopefully I’ll have the energy to make a video that recaps all that transpired 🙂 We got a lot of video footage!
For now, I’m a bit tired, so I’ll post more later on this week.
Time to start packing!
Blessings & peace,