Lately Africa has been tugging on my heart strings. Maybe it’s all the breath taking images of Haiti. They remind me of a life beyond my big southern world. I confess, many times, I’m the girl, who changes the channel at the commercials of the hurting and homeless, avoiding articles about charities and stories of compassion. Simply, because it grips a place in my heart so deeply that I’ve mastered the skill of piling all those emotions into the closet of my heart and putting the chair against the doorknob to seal it shut.
On May 1st, 2000 – I packed my bags and my heart, and I boarded a plane to Johannesburg, South Africa. When I returned on May 29th, my bags were in hand, but my chest was completely empty…and soo full at the same time. At twenty years old, it only took one journey to change my life forever. For many years I have said that I left my heart there. The images, the aroma’s, the sounds in my ears, were all a symphony of sweetness to my soul. The hurting country somehow helped heal my hurting heart, more than my songs, I believe, ever helped heal them. I was in that place, a tiny chasm of time, where passion met purpose. And oh, I’ve tried to journey there through other ventures…but nothing quite satisfies.
But there is a place where I can go,
that Jesus only knows…
a place of quiet peace,
of love and perfect stillness.
On my knees, in sweet embrace,
in the chamber of that secret place.
The gentle waves of grace and praises
exchange from the Fathers heart to mine.
At his feet I find my rest, behind the veil
a place where my heart will be made well.
When I stepped that first foot off the plane, walking into Africa, there is a feeling…nothing to see, nothing to experience, just a feeling…many have shared…an overwhelming mixed moment of fullness, and disbelief, joy and so much more – deeply indescribable. And that’s just the very first step of the journey! We haven’t even arrived in the memories of my visits to orphanages or the safari’s or the cities yet! The first step was amazing, a moment I will remember forever.
Lately, the ‘groaning earth’ has disturbed that fault line inside my heart, to a 7.0-type shaking. I’m feeling the beats again, and hearing the songs of children, awakening my heart to childhood dreams.
But ten years later, my slightly more realistic mind tells me that the adventures to the deep may be too far out of reach, and that I should settle back in with my cup of coffee and my wireless internet connection and reach out to them by simply texting those five digits to my favorite charity, and moving on with my day. I’ve wrestled with this of late. Giving or Going. Which is my part?
As I sat under the southern hemisphere stars one night during my journey, I asked my Big God a Big question: How long will it be before I can journey back to this land and this people I have fallen so in love with? Immediately that voice in my heart gently whispered….’10 years.’ My heart sank, and I pleaded to have mis-understood. 10 months, 10 weeks, but not 10 years! I was a woman in love, swept away with a new passion for sharing the Love of Christ to a dark continent. Nothing else mattered. No hair, nail or makeup treatment even compared. And even somehow here we are, at the mark, and my heart is questioning this year, this moment. Did I make the most of my time? Am I ready? Is it really time?
The door to that place of passion in my heart has been closed pretty tightly in the past ten years. Sitting in a third floor cubicle, expected to place mutual fund trades by market close, pushing away images of big white smiles, and dusty streets. At a brunch with bosses and new clients, smelling chaffing dish burners and rushing to the hallway, to breathe deeply, as to not cry with memories of the auroma of Africa.
A few nights ago, someone (one of those friends who is usually on the other line talking to Jesus) called me out of the blue, and in the midst of my questioning heart, she spoke to that place deep inside of me. She said, ‘Jennifer, I had the weirdest dream this morning. (She joined my heart and went on her first Medical Missions trip to Africa last September!) – I was IN Africa again, stepping off the plane, and I heard the attendant say ‘Mind Yo’r He-ad’ (as they say in their British/African accents.)” – Instead of our English version “Watch your feet!” they say, “Mind your Head.” I have no idea the origin of this little ditty…but her dream details were like words from my Father in Heaven! Majestic! A reminder to me today, to Look up! Don’t get bogged down thinking about it. Just step over, into your dreams! and — Mind Your Head!
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