Ferenge Again
Our trip to America could not have been more perfect. God
gave so many confirmations to me over the two months that it was in His will
for us to come home, and I am so grateful for the time. It was delightful and
hilarious to watch Murad experience the multitude of firsts: drinking
fountains, highways, Christmas, malls, grocery stores, McDonalds, four wheelers, snow,
pop-rocks (HAH!) to just name a few! He marveled like a child at it all and
thanked the Lord constantly for allowing him the privilege to come. “God is so
good,” he repeatedly told me. “God is so good.” You just cannot wear out that
phrase. God IS SO good. Friends, food, lack of bug bites...mmmm. The best part of the whole thing was getting my family
back for a little while. I hadn’t expected to come home at all for a total of
13 months, but instead I came back after three. Every day at home I was
reminded of what I had given up to move to Ethiopia, and it was very painful. I
again was forced to count the cost of discipleship. Amazing just doesn’t cut it
when I talk about my family. I have yet to count a cost greater than giving
them up, for even one year. God must really enjoy doting on me. He gives and He
takes away. He takes away and He gives. These last two months were a wonderful gift.
Every good and perfect gift is from
above, coming down from the Father of Heavenly lights who does not change with
shifting shadows. – James 1:17
Although the shadows constantly
shift, praise the Lord that He does not change.
Our final plane skidded down the runway and I slapped my
forehead, “Oh man, I’m a ferenge
again!” “Yes. Yes you are,” Murad replied with a triumphant grin. And ferenge I am. I walked to the clinic
today from my home – roughly three and a half miles. (I plan to do that
frequently so my American thighs may remain in my “skinny” jeans.) I stepped
out my door in my little black flats, headed for the road. Stares. Glares. “Ferenge!!!” someone yelled. “Dang. They
noticed.” The entire walk I was cat called, whispered about, pointed and
laughed at, invited to male tea parties, and intercepted with hands wanting to
be shaken. I made two babies cry and another child run behind a closed door. Lemen? Why? Because I’m different. Interestingly
enough, these often irritating occurrences may become the very vehicle through
which I can share the Gospel. The people notice me. They give ear to what I
have to say.
I am starting Amharic school again next week, this time with
a tutor. I think it will be more time efficient and I will be able to learn
faster than in a class setting. I start immediately with the fidel (the written language). Anybody
that has seen it just said, “Yikes.” I’m excited though. I am so anxious to
gain a better grasp of the language. I can’t wait to have a full fledged
conversation with people, disciple the girls in our program, pray in their own
tongue, and especially share the Gospel! It will come in the Lord’s time. I
asked my tutor to use a curriculum called Creation to Christ to teach me. This
is the story of redemption using stories throughout the entire Bible. Ethiopia
is a storytelling culture, and therefore I know the message will be clearer to
them if told this way. It is six pages of stories, however, and Amharic is no
piece of cake. So I would take all the prayers I can get as I study it. My goal
is Easter. Ye Igzabeher ficad, ye hone.
If the Lord wills, it will be.
I started with hospice again this morning in the Strong
Hearts program, which I absolutely love. I so prefer to spend time with people
individually, especially in their homes. Emily Cornish (the other RN that works
with Project 61) has been doing a fantastic job here in the Kore clinic. It is
looking better and working more efficiently every day. I love my job.
Everything else is back to normal…whatever “normal” is in this country… Electric is out, my shower doesn’t work,
internet problems, belly rumbly, sunburn in January, bandana on my head. Yep. Normal.
Peace out, America. I’ll see you in September. Save me some
of that cheddar cheese.
Sincerely,Ferenge
