My Life as an African Gypsy

Welcome to the road with Jon and Layne. A few pictures from our journey. =)

Here are my new Bible and coffee cup.

(I threw in the 'believe' rock Tara sent me, because it sits on my side table and I like it a lot. Good reminder!)

Jon and I decided I need a more 'travel friendly' Bible... not that I am getting rid of my big giant print one, I love it, but it will probably remain at home more. Now my new one fits in my purse!

And if I was going to get a new Bible anyway, it might as well be pink, right? Perfect!

I am discovering, however, that trying to break in a new Bible is difficult. For example, I look for passages that I knew were on the left hand side near the bottom, but now they are not. I can't find them for the life of me! (Guess it is time to start memorizing scripture addresses a bit better.) Also, there is nothing underlined or highlighted yet, and I feel as if people look at me in church and think I am nonspiritual. (Okay, maybe that is a little extreme, though it makes my point.) Honestly I feel as if I am borrowing someone else's Bible.

I am adjusting though, and I am determined. Soon enough this little Bible will feel like mine, marked with dates and the faithfulness of our Lord.

Now, shall we move to the cup?

Can we agree it is fabulously Anthropologie? And it has scripture! Can it get any better? Not for me!

Sometimes in the mornings, particularly like this morning, I could use the reminder of my need for the joy of the Lord. I need some supernatural intervention! Anyone else? Maybe like me, today you need to sing for joy as you become satisfied by the unfailing love of the Lord.

It is so comforting to know that my God relentlessly pursues me, loves me no matter what mood I woke up in... no matter what my chaotic week looks like... no matter how much effort I put into it. His love for me is unfailing. And that is reason to be joyful; it is reason to sing to Him.

Unfortunately, sometimes I forget. Maybe like me, you could use purposeful reminders, like a rock on your nightstand or scripture on your coffee cup. =)

Read www.jonandlayne.com under 'Some of Our Stories' and see pictures there!

The girl side of the story...

It all started with an afternoon game drive. It was warm and sunny, and though there weren't many animals, I was enjoying being amongst God's creation and sitting next to my handsome rugged husband.

The roads were horrible, lots of puddles and bouncing, which is not terribly abnormal. During our morning drive we had experienced much of the same. Where the water was impassable, there were tracks to the side where other vehicles had made "new" roads.

An hour or so into the drive we passed a safari vehicle going the other direction. We stopped to say 'Hello' and hear if they had seen any animals. Only hippos at the hippo pool, which was quite a long ways away. We decided we'd drive another 30 minutes and then we'd turn around.

Along the way we crossed some pretty deep muddy patches, but our vehicle took it with no trouble, and the safari vehicle we had just seen had made it all the way through, giving us an extra boost of confidence.

We came to one particular patch of water, and after going in a bit a feeling out, Jon decided to reverse and look for a side road. Sure enough, right to the side of us there were tire marks in the grass. Someone had gone there before, so off we went!

Bad idea.

Directly past the hard firm ground, we sank. And I mean sank.

Jon looked worried, and I tried not to be a tad annoyed that we were in this predicament. This would probably mean that I would get dirty. Great.

I rolled up my jean legs and braced myself. Jon stripped to his undies. I had to laugh. What was it going to look like when a safari vehicle drove up? Oh dear...

We started digging in the stinky, stinky mud, and I took the ax to go get some more branches for the tires to grip. As Jon kept working, I kept glancing at the sun. It was setting quickly. I finally decided that we were going to be sleeping in the car, and if we were going to sleep in the car, we needed to clean off while we could see, as well as get situated for bed.

We stopped working and went to clean up in the delta.

Once in the vehicle, Jon was a bit riled up and needing to calm down. I cut up some cheese and got out the crackers. We ate freely; I was not thinking we needed to ration anything, as I was positive a safari vehicle would pass on a early morning drive.

In attempts of people hearing us, Jon honked SOS a few times, but had no response.

The car quickly turned into a sauna with our hot breath. We didn't want the mosquitoes inside, so we were going to suffer the heat... that didn't last long. We lathered up in mosquito repellent and rolled down the windows.

It was a long rough night, waking frequently, itching the ankles, wrapping up in towels because of the cold. When the sun began to rise, I saw the sky begin to lighten. Help would arrive soon!

We started honking SOS again, hoping to attract a nearby safari truck. My emotional state was sinking by the minute. We ate some fruit and energy bars, again not thinking we could be out much longer. We decided we would sit tight until 9, and if no one came, we would start digging again. In my stubbornness I told Jon I would dig the whole car out myself! I was not going to die in that car.

At 8:30 my hope began to diminish. We put on some sunscreen to got ready to dig. We hopped out, cut down some big branches and got digging again. I was sure we could get it. An hour or more later, muddy and hot, we came to the decision that we were buried to the axles and even if the tires gripped, there was no getting out.

We cleaned up, put the sun shade up, and got in the car. I began to cry. We were stranded. I tried to nap; Jon read. I kept honking. We heard a plane in the distance, and Jon decided to hop onto of our roof rack and wave a white towel to get some attention our direction.

Nothing.

He did this with a couple more planes, but we had no response.

I couldn't help but think how awful it would be to just starve right there; I felt like I was on some survivor show, but without the camera crews for safety.

Jon began to talk about walking back to camp. "Camp" was some 28km away... through a national game park, where we had seen lion, hyena, elephant, etc. He wanted me to stay put in the vehicle in case a truck came by and for safety; I said, "No." All I could imagine was Jon getting eaten by a lion or stomped to death by an elephant and me being stranded in the truck for days, hysterical and freaking out.

Not happening.

Through my tears I explained that if he was going to be eaten, then I wanted to be eaten too. With hesitation he agreed that we would walk together.

It was mid-day and we figured it was the best time of day for the animals, since it was hot and they would be sluggish. This was our best chance. We packed a small back pack, covered our heads and shoulders, wrote a couple notes for help and stuck them to the windows, and took off into the wild... quite literally.

Our beginning conversation was similar to, "If we see an elephant, move away slowly, behind a large tree trunk." "If we see a lion..." and so on. Along the path we encountered lion tracks, which were not as old as I would have liked. As brave as I wanted to be, I kept looking around nervously. We prayed aloud, and I reminded myself that God has shut the mouths of lions before, and He could do it again.

We waded through swampy water, me praying against snakes and their bites, jumping at any small movement. I stepped on a few thorns, frustrated they were slowing us down.

An hour in the walk, about 4km down the road, Jon saw some vehicles in the distance. Thank God! I was so scared they would started driving and not see us. We cut across the tall grass and broke into the clearing, surely shocking these tourists to death. They had their video cameras on, filming our explanation of why we were walking through the game park.

Thankfully they offered to take us to our vehicle and to pull us out. They had a winch on the front of their Defender, and we thought it should be no problem. Hooray! We'd be out in an hour and off to see our friends in Maun!

Since their vehicles were full, they put us on the roof rack of their trailer. The ride was painful as we tried not to fly off with each bump, but it would only be 4km and I could handle anything for that short distance.

After an hour of trying, they could not pull us out. The Bison was stuck good.

They offered for us to ride on the trailer again, and they would take us back to camp, since they were camping too. Without many other options, we climbed atop and gripped the side bars. It was beyond painful. I wanted to cry, but there was no time between bumps. I had to mentally focus. My back and neck popped every which way, quite audibly. I feared I would not walk when we got there. I had blisters on my hands and feet, from gripping and bouncing. It was horrible. Jon was really worried for me bouncing right off.

We arrived back at camp, tattered and tired. The park told us to sleep for the night and first thing in the morning we would go get our vehicle.

At 6:30am, the time they told us to be there, no one was there. We waited. Around 7 we were told there was no vehicle to go right then, that one was coming from another camp right then and would be there by 10am. OK.

We went back to our tent and the tears came... and came. I could not imagine staying any longer. I needed shampoo. I needed food. And everything they said would happen, wasn't. I was so afraid of not getting our vehicle.

Finally at noon the truck arrived. Jon went, and I stayed to pack up camp in faith that our vehicle was coming back with Jon. And when it arrived, I wanted to pack it and get out quick.

I waited and waited. Praying and hoping. Hours later, Jon pulled up in the Bison and the tears nearly started all over again.

It was over.

When I want my hair done, I normally want it done right then... not a good habit.

I had been pondering it a bit, whether I wanted to keep my hair long and just add layers, or if I wanted to go back to having short hair. Now that we will be in Mozambique, I will have a blow dryer and can have that option.

After lots of thinking, I decided I wanted to keep the long hair.

Still feeling the need for change; however, I wanted more layers. I have cut many people's hair, and I feel like I have a decent idea of what I am doing. So in my confidence, I told Jon to help me cut my own hair. (Jon had no choice and can take none of the blame.)

I started pulling my hair this way and that and telling Jon, "Cut here, like this."

Initially it was going well and I was thinking I would like it, but soon I realized the layers were too short for the amount of hair I still had pulled up... trouble. I began to panic, realizing my desire for long hair was vanishing.

Gripping the sink, I looked in to the mirror, my eyes filling with tears. Jon tried to calm me, reassure me that maybe we could do something. I said we needed go to a hair dresser now.

Unfortunately, they were all closed. I cried some more.

We got home, Jon ran to the grocery store and I had a good look at my hair. Schmullet. I took the scissors and whacked it all off. (I should have taken pictures, but I was crying and couldn't bring myself to it.)

The next morning we hunted for a salon. 3 misses. Finally, over the phone, I made an appointment. We jumped in the car to attempt to find the place. Place = shady.

Jon asked if I wanted to stay, and in my desperation I said 'Yes'.

I was the only white person in there. I got my hair washed and then was seated, only to wait for 20 or more minutes for someone to finally come to me. During that time I had to calm my nervous vain-self saying that it is only hair.

There was a sign hanging on the wall that said "God is good" or something like that, so I chatted with God and told Him I was believing for His protection over my hair. Ha! Ridiculous, huh? But girls, I bet you could relate.

Anyways, the lady did a good job.

I went home, only to cut on it about 3 more times, layering here, thinning there. In between, I had a nap with Jon. He looked over at me, and I was crying again. He asked if I was okay, and I replied threw sobs, "I thought of my ponytail!" =)

In the end, I like it; I really do. I am getting used to it and will fully embrace my short haired self soon.

After waiting nearly two years, the time has come for me to buy permanent things for my home... and it is just as fun as I thought it would be.

While waiting on doctors and tests results, we figured now was a good time to shop and compare prices on long term items for our upcoming home. I have scoured the shops, notebook in hand, comparing prices and quality, and I believe I am close to making purchases.

From red casserole dishes, to stainless steel pots and pans... from a toaster, to silverware... it's all too exciting!

Finally I am going to be able to express my own style in my own space. Soon I will have to opportunity to host people in my own home. When I get situated, I am going to take you with me on a small tour. Get excited!

Isn't it funny how one bad experience can shatter a person's confidence?

Over the past month, I have not been able to use my Portuguese like I would like to. Because of this, I felt it slipping, yet had no idea how badly until I was sitting in front of a group of girls at the youth group trying to share my testimony/short message off the top of my head.

My verbs got tangled; I could not think of the words I needed... it was awful. I felt like running out and crying. The nerves didn't help the confusion in my head, nor did the blank faces of the teen girls present. I felt judged and inadequate. Humiliated. I pushed through, managing to painfully get my point across. Honestly it probably wasn't as horrendous as I felt. Nonetheless, I felt that way, and my confidence went down the drain.

In my pride I wanted to tell them, "I am an English professor. I am well educated. I actually love speaking. I am good at this... in English. I am!" Oh how it hurts to fail.

When I had to speak after that, even in small ways, I could feel to doubt whispering in my ear.

Just before Easter I was invited to preach the Easter service. Though nervous, I said yes, feeling like passing up this opportunity would be stupidity. I struggled with immense fear up until the night before. I decided to plan a bit more and not go with my usual English way of "a couple of bullet points and winging it". I had come to a certain peace with things, trusting the Lord for his help, but then I got very sick and was unable to have a go at it.

It was small victory though, the fact that I was putting myself out there again, being willing.

Today I had my chance.

Today was the start of a young girls' craft/Bible study that I am supposed to head up. Though a little unsure, I went with it thinking it would be a small group. There ending up being fourteen girls between 8 and 15. Praise the Lord I had such a good time, and I must say that I think my Portuguese was just fine. I will get more and more comfortable with time. I feel ready to take on anything.

Isn't it funny how one good experience can surge confidence within a person?

Just because you have one bad experience... or two or three, doesn't mean they will all be that way. Keep trying. Don't lose hope.

During my time in Angola I have been struggling to find my purpose, my 'reason' for being here. The days seem to come and go and I am left thinking, "What have I done?"

While in Mozambique I felt used by the Lord on a near daily basis, for sure on a weekly basis, so why oh why would the Lord take away? Just when i feel like an opportunity is presenting itself, I feel like it is snatched from under me.

Last week I found myself sitting in my little mud house with the doors shut and the windows closed in tears. I turned on my Beth Moore video, which I should have watched about a week ago, and tried to focus.

Do you know what it was about?

Waiting on the Lord.

What timing! How the Lord knew what I needed! He is good like that. =)

She talked of the scriptures in Isaiah 40 verses 28-31 that say,

He gives strength to the weary
and increases the power of the weak.

Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;

but those who hope in the LORD
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.

Doesn't this seem contrary to real life? In real life, when we are waiting for something, it is draining! It takes forever. We lose strength. But the key is that we must not wait for things, for dates, or for opportunities, we must was for the Lord.

Before Jesus died, he told the disciples that they were to go to Jerusalem and wait for the Holy Spirit. The disciples waited in the upper room until the day of Pentecost.

(Can't you imagine that the whole they were waiting they would look to each other and say, "Did you hear that? Was the the Holy Spirit? Has he come? Did you feel that? They had no idea what it would be like!)

In some ways I feel like this time for me is a time of waiting, a time of waiting for the filling of the Holy Spirit. I find myself sitting in this little mud house, waiting.

At the end of the lesson she talked about balancing passion with patience. If you know me, you know I have that passion part covered. I am ready! But sometimes the Lord asks us to be patient. Sometimes He is going before us, preparing the way. Sometimes He is working right inside of us, preparing us for the work ahead.

No matter what the cause, when we wait upon the Lord, when we wait on Him, we will be strengthened. I don't need to focus on being "used" or "doing", I just need Him and His power at work within me.