FashionABLE

Mocha Club has launched their newest effort in supporting the Women at Risk organization in Ethiopia. Buy a scarf; I literally brought them over to the states in my suitcase.

Also, this is a piece I wrote for my church, The Well, about my personal experience with Women at Risk.

I have just returned from a one-month stay in Ethiopia, and, to put it simply, my world has been rocked. Everything I once knew about God expanded ten-fold when I glanced upon His face in such a humble setting. In order to spare you from a long-winded epic of my journeys in Ethiopia, I will tell you of a moment where I experienced God in a completely new, huge, and beautiful way.

The team I was a part of traveled to an organization called Women at Risk. It is a program entirely devoted to rescuing women out of prostitution, and providing them rehabilitation to live independently. The program is scripturally based, and provides an avenue for God’s love to create healing in the women’s lives. Every morning begins with a devotional, and I was blessed to be present for this time of worship. The women told us their life stories of abuse, rape, and desperation. Almost every woman that shared revealed they were raped at a young age. Their stories told of a lack of education and no resources to provide for their children. One woman had a sick child and, with seemingly no other alternative, turned to prostitution rather than watch her child die. Their stories were heart-wrenching- the most dreadful tales you’ve ever heard. Next, they spoke of their rescue. During “night raids” staff of Women at Risk searched them out at local bars and invited them to a completely new life. The women accepted to the program were sitting in front of me spilling their love for God and His power to wipe away all of their shame. They spoke as if God literally came down from heaven and carried them out of their prostitution hell.

After the last word was spoken, the women stood and began to worship. They sang in their language, and they sang in complete sincerity. It was the most beautiful sound I have ever heard. They sang and sang. I had no idea what words there were using to praise God, but I didn’t need to know. I could see their passion for God in their uplifted faces, in their swaying hands, and the memories of their stories. I could not catch my breath; for, in that moment I was brought to my knees in realization of God’s mighty strength and His gentle care. God is huge, and God saves his people everyday, in every nation completely independent of my acknowledgment. My “small God bubble” was popped, and I will never be the same.

Although the women have endured far more suffering than I could imagine, they have sparked in me gratefulness for God’s salvation in my life. My life has meaning because of Him; I have purpose because of Him; I always have a reason to be joyful; I have every reason to praise just as beautifully as those women did; I’m no longer in darkness. He has brought me into such marvelous light. Ethiopian ex-prostitutes are shining His light; they are a reflection of His glory.

” Hear me Lord, and be merciful to me; Lord be my help. You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent. Lord my God, I will praise you forever.” Psalms 30:10-12

Knee

Jackie and I had the beginning class for teaching English. We would take turns leading “English in action.” Inside Joke shoutout… nowtits. haha. Class was frustrating at times, but they were smart and caught on pretty well. It is always an interesting feat teaching another language without being able to tell them instructions or even being able to pronounce the kids’ names. We had a mutual understanding going on. When things got out of hand Surafel came in with the stick… that always works in any language.

I miss my little Gulano. I hope I didn’t scar him for life when I corrected him for thinking my name was “knee.” I mean knee… Lauren, I can see the confusion lol. He was one of my favorites for sure and I am constantly wondering what he is doing and where he will end up.

Light-bulb

“But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. God chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things- and the things that are not- to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him.”- 1 Chorinthians 1: 27-29

I can’t get this out of my head; it just makes so much sense. Funny, that scripture makes sense. I can’t help but think that this is why I have seen God in the poor, the sinful, the ridiculed. God has a plan, and I’m beginning to see he has a plan full of grace for “the lowly things of this world.” I pray I never rise above the lowly things; I pray I never boast in myself. I rather have the heart of the poor- then I will be a part of God revealing his glory. I believe God reveals his indescribable nature through the lowly, the despised, those that are not. Who are we to be above anyone? I can see now that God advocates for those who suffer and uses those who have been given much to show a reflection of his love. Whatever side of the fence I fall on throughout my life I hope I have the conviction of humility before God and a relationship of brotherhood with the lowly.

We just got word that Birhanu and Getahun were kicked out of the temporary place they were sleeping in. Where they were staying was kind of like an outdoor movie theatre. So, this means they are back out on the streets. This is not a good place to be. It breaks my heart to know these boys are walking around the streets of Ambo with no where to go and no one to lean on. Please pray for these boys, my friends. Pray for my team to come up with a creative solution. Pray for Mocha Club to fund a new program to help the street boys get into school and be fed daily. Pray for hope above all; Birhanu and Getahun need to see God’s love. My team is hoping to be the means for God to change these boys’ lives.

Arm Wars Galore

So, Ethiopians and Americans really like it when I act like a freak. Therefore, I pulled this talent out of my arsenal of weird tricks quite frequently during my trip. Enjoy.

This video is also a sneak peek of how awesome Ethiopian dance moves are. Get it Surafel.

If you go to the Traditional Ethiopian restaurant, Habesha, in Addis and they are swinging their arms around… you now know who taught them their moves.

Many thanks to Brandon Stone for capturing this fantastic footage.

A Holiday from Real

As I travel through time constantly nearing a far way memory of my stay in Ethiopia, I struggle with preserving the confidence and knowledge I inherited so fully. How is it that one day I can be on my knees in awe of the suffering I witnessed and the next I don’t let the pain of my sightings dare cross my mind? I am sure of what I felt, saw, and learned yet today, I find it hard to grasp the sensitivity I once treasured in relation to it all. I saw a huge God in Ethiopia; in America I see a nation with no God. I was swept away in busyness the minute I stepped onto the red and blue soil. I am grasping at the idea of being swept away in stillness. I felt still, aware even in the midst of a chaotic city bursting with liveliness. When I take the time to breathe, take the time to say a quick hello to God, it is then I feel the brokenness I treasure. When I am not chasing after success and a future, I am still enough to remember the spiritual vitality I gained from being removed from self-sufficiency.

I long for the soulful nakedness of people. My friends in a faraway land bared all the blessings and suffering God so graciously gave them. They wanted to know your heart; their friendship was deep and unfathomably selfless. So, since America is my home and where I am currently positioned on this earth, how do I make my stay here the heartfelt adventure I once tasted in beautiful Ethiopia? How do I make the people around me real? How do I make those closest to me understand that complete human suffering is the greatest heartache and greatest joy I may ever care to dive into. That’s exactly it- I’m standing on the diving board trembling with anticipation of jumping into the passionate pursuit of my God-given purpose. The thing is I feel like the pool is empty; I’m looking over the edge and I see concrete; I see walls. I wish I saw the lush Ethiopian mountains and perfectly needy children, but I don’t. I see hearts of stone; I see walls of concrete.

Close to My Heart

If you find the time please, please watch this documentary on women with fistula injuries.

A Walk to Beautiful

It hits so close to home. I was able to walk the hallways of the hospital in the video. I even saw Dr. Hamlin (the founder of the hospital) from afar. I met with the women receiving treatment. I understand some of the words they are speaking without reading subtitles. It pains me to watch the video. I’ve touched these women; I’ve been in their paradise hospital; I can attest to the beauty and courage the women exude so quietly. I cannot express how miraculous the Fistula Hospital is… I promise you miracles are happening here.

Let’s Be Real

My blog posts about my trip would have looked similar to this if I had the guts to be vulnerable on the internet.

All the quotes were taken from www.aholyexperience.com which my beautiful friend Jovanna lovingly directed me to.

Do the eyes of God see extravagant wealth in Guatemalan shanty towns, these desperate hands clinging to Him like a belt wrapped around the waist, their hands full of the treasure of Him — do the richest live here, and I just can’t see?

Do the eyes of God see sickening poverty in the manicured burbs of the impoverished self-sufficiency of Atlanta — do we live the lives of lack, so full of ourselves and our stuff that we aren’t ravished for God?

But this isn’t about telling; this is about experiencing, this is about smelling the stench in the nostrils, the vile in the marrow, about touching the cheek of a child born behind the bars, about smiling love into forgotten children and unveiling the God-beauty hidden behind tin.

Unpinned and leaking away — maybe this is the only way to know God. Being here, caring about this place, this people — isn’t this what it means to know God? Isn’t this what I say I want more than breathing? And yet — every breath in this place hurts me deep, heaving up through all the ache of humanity.

I could only shake my head. Not parting the lips, lest everything leak away. Just keep everything sealed, hold on to it all, so nothing leaks away, so no one can get in to all that’s happening on the inside. No. No words. Nothing to say.

I don’t know. I don’t know. I feel so —- hushed.

She understands.

Cheadle and Me

My blog post is officially up on Mocha Club’s website:

http://blog.mochaclub.org/articles/2010/09/13/trip-blogger-lauren/

Check It Out

One of my team members, Melissa, wrote a blog post for Mocha Club about our trip:

http://blog.mochaclub.org/articles/category/africa-trips/

Hopefully I will have one up someday soon…!

And a little extra…

Fave.

This is my favorite picture that I took from my trip. Love, Love, Love it.

I blew it up to 11×17, and it now hangs above my bed.