Aha Moment

I majored in Family and Child Studies and minored in Psychology. I know alot about people and even more about myself from the types of classes and topics I studied. Due to FCS, I'm very good at recognizing and communicating how I feel, as well. I'm usually very self assured and at ease with how I feel--whether it's good or not so good. I don't need a list of emtions to pick out and identify the way i feel, normally.

Since arriving in Zambia, I've had no overwhelming feelings. No moment of clarity or sureity one way or another. I didn't feel immediately good or bad about my new home. I was even asked what I thought about Zambia to which I replied, "It's awesome." I really wanted to truly think that, however I wasn't quite there yet. Since arriving in Zambia, we've traveled from Lusaka to Livingstone to spend the weekend with friends from LA Tech on their way home from Zambia. So I still feel like I'm on holiday (AKA vacation) and that I just haven't arrived to my final destination yet, Mongu. Thus, explaining my inability to process feelings and thoughts about this new place. Honestly, I've traveled to alot of different places and Zambia just doesn't compare. I can't quite put my finger on it yet. For now, it's just different.

Riding back from white water rafting the Zambezi River in a loaded down Overlander (an open safari style truck with five rows of seating), I was just observing the villages and scenery we passed by. Children ran from their hut houses waving to us. Cows and goats roamed the dirt streets. Trucks having to dodge potholes large enough to possibly swallow small cars. Trees that knot and spiral towards the cloudless blue sky. Beautiful women dressed in shitange's perfectly balancing huge baskets on their heads and babies on their backs. Then this thought hit me, "This is where you belong. This is what you were made for." Aha! Everything clicked. It all came together--thoughts and feelings overwhelmed me. I got this big goofy grin that's stuck around for the rest of the day.

I'm here!

The Baby's Foot

Let me begin with an apology. This post may involve too much information (one of my Dad's favorite things to say to my Mom, "T.M.I. Vicki, T.M.I.!"). Sometimes disclosure just makes the point more clear. So, here goes, honesty & vulnerability...

I don't understand healing. I don't understand why some people pray and are healed and some are not. How does God pick and choose? Why not everyone? I don't believe that healing is associated with any amount of faith. I hate that a lack of healing is associated with a lack of faith. I don't understand how some people experience healing for only a limited amount of time. And, I don't understand how God can promise me healing and my body not act like it's healed.

I've had "female" issues for as long as I've been considered a woman. I've struggled with having regular periods and was put on birth control to regulate them when I was 14. I lasted on and off birth control until I switched doctors, about 3 years ago. My time spent off birth control revealed I was unable to have periods on my own. A scary truth for a woman. My new doctor finally decided to explore the reason why I wasn't about to ovulate regularly. Through a series of tests, blood-work, ultrasounds, and exams my doctor discovered that I had Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS). Due to several factors, my ovaries had cysts that caused severe pain and swelling. Nothing could be done to treat the cysts because they were not large enough for surgery. Funny sidenote. We've actually nicknamed my cysts, "the baby's foot" because the referred pain & swelling in my lower abdomen protruded and felt like a baby's foot to the touch! Anyway...

My blood-work revealed that my insulin levels & hormone levels were off. I was then referred to an endocrinologist that put me on a medicine, Metformin, to regulate my insulin levels so that my body would quit producing large quantities of glucose and odd levels of testosterone and progesterone. The new medicine was even supposed to help me have periods on my own. There was no need to be on birth control anymore. I stayed on the other medicine until January 2010. The other symptoms seemed to be less severe and I was regular. At the beginning of January, though, I had such severe cysts on my ovaries that I decided to stop taking Metformin.

Let's rewind a bit. I don't know the specific time, but throughout this whole fiasco I prayed that God would heal my body and that I would have regular periods, on my own. Not too much to ask, right? In January, my Mom really believe God said that I was healed so we decided that I should stop taking the meds to prove this. Guess what? I continued to have periods monthly! Like clockwork. However, the painful cysts still continued. Last August, I re-visited my doctor to evaluate the cysts. He ran more tests, blood-work, ultrasounds...yada yada yada. Nothing else was found so he gave me the option to take birth control, metformin, or continue without medication. I chose to be medicine free.

In October, I attended Chi Alpha's annual statewide Fall Breakaway. During Sunday morning worship, I began to ask God to heal my PCOS and my painful cysts. I immediately felt pressure, like a huge hand pushing on my right side where the "baby's foot" normally protrudes. Then a warm sensation. And I believe that God spoke to me that I was healed in this moment.

The baby's foot disappeared completely. Until December, and then my periods also disappeared. The months continued to pass, period free. In April, I read a book about treating PCOS with an insulin resistant diet that involves eating low-glycemic indexed foods. I began to change the way I ate and surprisingly, the "baby's foot" and my period reappeared in June! Two weeks ago, I went back to my doctor for my annual and explained everything to him expecting him to tell me to get back on some form of medication. He looked in my chart a few different times. Then he read of my ultrasound results, twice. He told me he could no longer diagnose me with PCOS. Looking at my current blood-work and ultrasound, there are no more cysts on my ovaries.

At first, I was a tad agitated. How could he no longer diagnose me with PCOS? Did he mis-diagnose me before? So, I asked several questions and throughout the rest of the appointment he explained that what was wrong with me before is no longer an issue. After letting that soak in, I'd say that's the definition of healed, right?

Even though I no longer have PCOS, my doctor believes I am still insulin resistant which leads to decreased ovulation. On top of that, he believes that I ovulate bi-monthly. Continuing to eat differently will decrease my insulin resistance and increase my ability to ovulate!

This whole healing thing has been hard. I've felt abandoned by God in this 10 year health battle. I've felt like He hasn't taken care of my physical needs. I've felt like He promised me something He would never make good on. I've even felt stupid telling people that He healed me when my body was acting completely unhealed--irregular and full of painful cysts. Funny thing is, God can't look stupid. And He always makes good on his promises. Sometimes His fulfillment just looks different than how we pictured it. Sometimes His time-frame is different from our own. Sometimes we don't understand His great idea. Sometimes He's just looking for us to trust Him, no matter what. Hindsight is 20/20.

"We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of his son." Romans 8:28-29

My new prayer, "God, please heal my insulin resistance & help my body to ovulate how it normally should. Thanks again for healing me. Amen."

The Next Step

I'm officially moved back into my parents home. Never thought I'd say that. But, yes, what little I still own is unpacked in its respective places in my old bedroom. I've even requested a USPS change of mailing address form. Yesterday, I was welcomed back "home" to Luling by my new spin instructor who is, by the way, 8 months pregnant! I literally cried the entire drive home. Four hours and 45 minutes. Sometimes I sobbed. Sometimes my eyes just leaked. Sometimes my body shook. I could only scrounge up 2 napkins in my Dad's Suburban to last the entire drive home. I used them sparingly. It all hit me. This is the next step. It's what I've been anticipating. It's the means to an end. Yet, it's also the close of a HUGE chapter in my life. Ruston was my first home. It was the first & only place I've lived since moving out of my parents house. It's where I've created my life. It's where I found my faith, what I believe in. It's where I began countless friendships. It's where I made a lot of stupid decisions and mistakes. It's also where I've made huge successes and triumphs. It's where I tried to find love. It's where I found out how to love. It's where I learned the majority of what I know. It's where I began my career. It's where I found my innate need for adventures. Ruston is where I found me, who I know me to be today. Not to sound overly dramatic, but I drove away early Saturday morning not looking back. Not because I thought God was going to turn me into a pillar of salt, like Lot's wife. I couldn't keep my eyes off the sky in front of me. There was this incredible sunrise cloud-parting thing happening in the sky. It was as if the golden sun was peek-a-booing out of the pinky-bluish clouds & the rays showed all around the edges of the clouds. The sky led me all the way from my apartment to the interstate. It was God's "good morning" to me on what turned out to be a really hard day. (Thanks again, God, for the beautiful surprise!) Leaving Ruston was definitely harder than I expected. That's the thing about expectations. They rarely ever get met to exact specifications. Sometimes it's an overshot. Sometimes you miss it by a mile. Sometimes you just ding the rim of the target. My life is turning out to be nothing like I expected. I think that's why the next step was so difficult emotionally. I never expected to be in Ruston 2 years-post college graduation. I never expected to sell my entire life's worth of stuff--things I planned to have in my future home, with my future hottie husband & my future crazy clan of children. I never expected to be almost (21 days exactly!) 25, single & moving to Zambia to work with malnourished babies. The next step kind of ruins all my expectations and plans. But that is the thing. I wouldn't choose to do anything else. I wouldn't even choose to have my previous expectations met, at this moment. Because I know I wouldn't be fulfilled or excited or 100% at peace with my life. So I guess, I'm waiting on the next step. I have no expectations of how the next 3 weeks of my life are going to go. I don't really know how to spend time saying "see you in 10 months" to my family and friends. At this point, I don't even know what to expect in Zambia. I guess the saying is true, lower your expectations and they'll always be met, maybe even exceeded. Or, maybe a better saying is expect the unexpected. I'm praying the unexpected exceeds my expectations.

"Spit in one hand and want in the other."

Last Saturday, Lori & I road-tripped to Thackerville, OK to see Sugarland in concert for her birthday and spent the night in Dallas at my oldest bubba, Chris' house. Oddly enough, it was also Oscar--one of Chris' closest friends' birthday, as well. They had a birthday shin-dig at Chris' house, so I spent the latter part of the night with Chris & his friends...who are hysterical! Apparently, word got out that I was moving to Africa because every single person inquired about my upcoming move. I believe I had the exact same conversation 11 times. Yes, I counted. It's astounding to me how "special" or "selfless" or "amazingly wonderful" people assume me to be, just because I'm moving to Africa to help care for little malnourished, orphaned babies. It's funny how becoming a "missionary" or "humanitarian-aid" entitles a person to so much more. Since I've made the decision to move to Zambia, I've been bombarded with compliments and affirmation for all of the above. I've had a bit of thinking time lately and I've decided people's responses weird me out so much because my intent or my heart towards what I do hasn't changed, therefore, I don't feel very different about living & working in Zambia. But, I guess I feel obligated to feel "saintly" or "mother theresa-y". If you know me, there is NO possible way I'd ever be able to honestly describe myself with those two words without a tinge of sarcasm or laughter. So, I guess I'll continue having awkward conversations involving people applauding what I do while I scramble to validate & credit their life's work. That's the honest truth. I believe we are all asked to do something. And, it's our obedience to that something that's important. Because if we all did our something, the world would be a different place. The world isn't going to be different just by my work in Zambia. The world is going to be different by people who choose to wait tables at restaurants. Or those that sell real-estate. Or those that help special needs adults live functional lives. Or those that write. Or teach. Or raise children. Or are U.S. missionaries. The list is never ending! The world is made different by those that choose to love others in all that they do.

Not to abruptly change the subject, but my Dad has a saying, "Spit in one hand and want in the other. See which one fills up faster." Growing up, I hated hearing this because it usually meant I wasn't going to get what I wanted or asked for. Today, if my Dad were to tell me this, I'd do my happy dance. My want hand is overflowing! At the beginning of June, I sent out support letters for Zambia. As many of you know, I need to raise about $4,500 cash budget (traveling expenses for the year) and I need to increase my monthly budget by $500/month in pledges. Can I be honest, again? Raising support isn't my favorite thing to do. I did not know how all this money was going to come in before I leave in August. That's a lot of money in only 2 months. Thus, began my normal bossy prayer, "God, I know I can leave in August without all my cash budget raised, but it'd really be nice if it all came in before August." Well, God showed me. Before July 1, I have raised more than $6,000 cash budget towards my year in Zambia! God is proving to not look stupid, at all. He's actually proving to look quite smart. See, I forgot to budget in things I need to pay for BEFORE I leave the country...malaria meds, 1 year supply of contact lenses, toiletries, etc.

I'm so glad God knows what He's doing. I'll just continue to be obedient. And blessed.

Promises are for keeping!

I'm a planner. I love having a detailed schedule. I know what my daily schedule is. I always have it written or typed somewhere so that I can read it, if needed. I even like alarms set to remind me what to do next. This is because I don't like to forget to do something, be late to an event, or more than anything I just don't like to sit around twiddling my thumbs doing nothing. I like to know what I'm doing ahead of time so that I can plan to do it the best possible way. But that's the thing about adventures; you can't really plan them. The best adventures always happen spontaneously, with little thought involved so that the negative consequences or repercussions won't outweigh the "fun". Great adventures don't involve a list of pros and cons. Great adventures don't involve the "why?" questions. Great adventures involve blind faith and glass half-full optimism, oftentimes leading with the grand question, "why not?". My favorite part of adventures is that someone else came up with the idea. But even then, the person that comes up with the idea matters. He or she has to be someone you're comfortable with. Someone you've spent time with. Someone that has proven themselves to you in some specific way. Someone that you trust.

This whole idea of an "African Adventure" is just that. I did not plan to move to Zambia. Acutally, I never planned to move to Africa. Period. I always specifically said "NO" to Africa. I was quite content with my plan to do U.S. missions because let's be honest, Americanized churched people need Jesus. But I guess that wasn't quite God's idea for my life. God initially changed my heart for Africa before I even stepped foot off the plane in Cape Town on my first African missions trip (more on that another time). Africa got a hold of my heart. Almost feels like a death grip, at times. Then began the discussions of living in Africa for a short period of time which, of course, extended to probably the rest of my life. This was fine and dandy until the idea of "rural" or "bush" Africa (aka: Zambia) got mixed into the pot. It's a good thing I spent most of last year learning to trust God because when He made it so crystal clear that Zambia was the next open door, how could I not walk through? Walking through the door, I was greeted with peace and confirmation. Then came the hard part, making the African Adventure theory a reality in less than 4 months. Yep, that is correct. I will have started the process of ending my job with Chi Alpha, preparing and fundraising for Zambia, moving home to Luling, then leaving for Zambia in less than 4 months.

How is that possible? That's exactly what I asked God when I began to realize the countdown to my departure and my growing to-do list. In my obsessive-compulsive-planning-happy mind, I can't make sense of how everything is going to come together. That's exactly what I've been telling people, too. Then, on May 24, I read Luke 11. Jesus was teaching the disciples how to pray by telling a story of the neighbor who wanted to borrow 3 loaves of bread at midnight. The borrowee (emphasis on "ee", not "wee") had just gotten comfy in bed, about to dose off and would rather the borrower to find a midnight snack, elsewhere. However, the carb-loving neighbor is persistent and finally the sleepy neighbor gets out of bed to help. The truth is, this man wanted to keep a good reputation in the neighborhood as "helpful" or "kind" or maybe even "trustworthy". My friend Angie made this story connect for me. God can't look stupid. I was under the assumption that it was stupid for me to try to do everything I had to do in 4 months in order to move and begin work in Zambia. However, I had this crazy peace about the timing in August. I believed it fit my time frame, was ok'd by my new boss, Marinette, and even afforded me time to spend with my family before I moved continents for 10 months. All the logistics made sense. No matter how far fetched the idea of moving to Zambia in less than 4 months sounds, if it's God's idea, He has to get the glory. Therefore, He has to do what He's promised.

I love promises. Promises involve far-fetched ideas, pinky fingers, sometimes blood, and usually a give and take transaction. Sometimes promises are a win-lose situation. I thrive on the win-win type. Rewind just a few days prior to my revelation on God's inability to appear stupid. I was driving to Luling to speak at a pastor's sectional meeting about Zambia. I was a teeny tiny bit nervous about speaking to a bunch of pastor's I hadn't met before. So I began to pray my normal bossy prayer when I'm nervous..."God you've got to do something with this trip and speaking to these pastors. I can't be wasting my time for nothing. This needs to be worth it." It somehow builds my confidence to boss God around. Unexpectedly, clear as day, He retorted, "This is your time of blessing. It's time to receive and be blessed. Be open to all blessings that are coming. Let others bless you too. The things I've promised will now be blessings to you." As you can imagine, my mind began racing as to all the endless possibilities of what that could mean. Funny enough, I could only think through my limited focus of the pastor's meeting that night. I'm starting to realize that my time of blessing wasn't limited to a pastor's meeting. God wasn't just talking about fulfilling His promises that night, either.

This whole Zambian African Adventure is proving to be a win-win promise for me. I promised God I'd go, He promised to make sure He got me there in August. I'm currently the proud owner of a plane ticket to Zambia leaving Washington, D.C. on August 5!

Lagniappe...a little extra.

Meet Ruth! Her mom recently passed away leaving Ruth with no one to care for her. God provided Ruth a home at the Village of Hope. Soon enough (August to be exact!), God will provide Ruth with another person to care for her. I can not wait to get my hands on her! To hold her. To feed her. To smother her with kisses. To change her dirty diapers. To LOVE her. In August, I'll begin working with The Zambia Project! It's the missions organization started by Paul & Marinette van Coller to offer hope to Western Zambia! The Zambia Project can be summed up in 1 word: hope. The main goal is to tell the Gospel & plant churches within walking distance of every person in Western Zambia. Everything else the Zambia Project does is lagniappe. In Louisiana, lagniappe means a little extra. Let's just say The Zambia Project has a good grip on "a little extra". Extras include digging water wells, providing resources & education, building orphanages, employing widows through jewelry making, selling Hope Art, providing medical care & feeding schemes, planting crops, training entrepreneurs, translating the Bible, discpleship, and building the community in every village! Seriously, the list seems never-ending. I keep getting asked the question, "What will you be doing in Zambia?" My answer is still the same, I have no idea! I asked to work in the orphanage, with babies like Ruth. I also think I'll help with organizing & hosting team trips that come to work with the Zambia Project. And since I have a tiny bit of experience, hopefully, I can work with young adults as well! Honestly, I just want to help...with anything or everything! I'm honored and blessed and very excited to help serve alongside Paul & Marinette & the Zambia team.

Girl I Never Thought I'd Be

I am turning into the girl I never thought I'd be. I never thought I'd be outdoorsy. Or able to walk out of my house with dirty hair. Or a 100%, whole grain, organic, raw fruits & veggies type of eater. Or easily distracted by all-natural products. Or excited about my sun-kissed freckly-face. Or the "why not?" questioner. I am a girl on a journey to God-knows where, to do God knows what. I have made a home in Ruston, LA for the past 6 years--marked by graduating Louisiana Tech, interning and now on staff as a missionary with Chi Alpha Campus Ministry. I never thought I'd be the girl to receive mail addressed to Reverend. Or the girl that would say yes to Africa. But that is me, the girl with a heart completely in love with a country an ocean away. I never thought I'd be a "blogger". So, here it is, "Bri's African Adventure"...or my attempt to keep everyone up to speed on my upcoming move to Zambia for 10 months. Or blogging may just be a therapeutic outlet to help with my craziness. Enjoy me turning into God's hand-crafted version of the girl He wants me to be!