Another Unexpected Blessing

One of the collateral goals in my Volunteers in Mission trip to Zimbabwe was to further the relationship between the pastors, people, and congregations of the Hutchinson District of the Kansas West Conference and the pastors, people, and congregations of the Mutare District of the Zimbabwe East Conference. That happened in both expected and unexpected ways--all of them blessings.

I had taken with me the "Harvest Thanksgiving" offering and signed "Future with Hope" card from the people of First United Methodist Church in Hutchinson for presentation to the people of the Streamview United Methodist Church. I took items from the Stafford and Alden United Methodist congregations for their partner congregations--the Zimunya North Circuit and Muradzikwa respectively. I carried with me a suitcase filled with "prayer bears" from the people of the Hillsboro United Methodist Church for the children of the Fern Valley United Methodist Church. I brought a copy of the 2008 Book of Discipline and the 2008 Book of Resolutions for the Mutare District Office.

In addition, I took with me a set of envelopes for the pastors, retirees, clergy widows, and conference appointees of the Mutare District. Each envelope contained a $20.00 bill, a $10.00 bill, and a "Three Simple Rules" bookmark.

The financial gift was in keeping with a goal that we have set for ourselves as pastors in the Hutchinson District to send a "love offering" four times a year of at least $20.00 for each of our counterparts. We had done so twice already, and I carried the third such gift with me.

The "Three Simple Rules" bookmarks just seemed like a good idea. They are a modern adaptation of John Wesley's admonitions to "Do No Harm. Do Good. Stay in Love with God." It seemed like the kind of admonition that the clergy in our two districts always need to keep in mind.

Earlier in the week, I had given the envelopes with the money (and bookmarks) to the Rev. Tazvi Nyarota, the superintendent of the Mutare District. She said that she wanted me to present these envelopes to the pastors in person. As the week unfolded, nothing ever worked out, and I assumed that other arrangements had been made. As it turned out, there was another unexpected blessing in store for me.

This blessing came on Friday afternoon, July 31. That morning, our Volunteers in Mission team finished work at the Zimunya Skills Training Centre. We had then shared another excellent noon meal at St. Peters United Methodist Church. The next thing on my schedule was attendance at the Zimbabwe International United Methodist Summit, scheduled to begin on the campus of Africa University at 2:00 pm.

I knew that I was going to be late for the start of the meeting, so I was hurrying across the Africa University campus toward the chapel. To my surprise, Tazvi Nyarota stepped out from among a group of pastors and spoke to to me. "The people who have been waiting for you are here," she said. At first, I thought she meant the people at the summit where I was headed. But she meant the pastors from the Mutare District who had been waiting for my arrival.

They had been at Africa University that week for Pastors School. Unlike the Kansas Area Seminar on Professional Ministry, this week-long event is well attended! Pastors School itself had ended on Friday at noon--or perhaps with the noonday meal. In any case, the District Superintendent had kept her pastors waiting for me to get there. She knew my schedule, and she wanted me to present the envelopes myself.

And so there came another unexpected blessing. Rev. Nyarota had me call the name of each pastor aloud and then present them with the envelope containing the money and the "Three Simple Rules" bookmark. After the presentation was completed, one of the pastors spoke words of appreciation on behalf of his colleagues for me to share with the pastors in the Hutchinson District. And then, of course, we took a picture!

Like so many other experiences on this trip, this unexpected blessing was simultaneously uplifting and humbling. The pastors of the Mutare District graced me with their patience in waiting for me to show up that afternoon. They blessed me with good humor as I mispronounced their names in sometimes spectacular ways. They blessed me with their good will as they expressed their appreciation for what was a modest gift by American standards by a significant one by Zimbabwean standards. They blessed me with the depth and breadth of their faith that sustains them in remarkably difficult circumstances. They blessed me with the joy that shows through in so many ways.

It was another of the many blessing--expected and unexpected--that I encountered during my trip.

Bread at Zimunya

Our Volunteers in Mission project at the Zimunya Skills Training Centre came to an end on Friday morning, July 31. By then, we had settled into a rhythm of work (and rest!). One of our faithful local volunteers--Mrs. Ressie Nemaramba--was not at the work site that morning when we arrived. I didn't really pay attention to her absence, perhaps assuming that she had other obligations, responsibilities, or commitments.

Midway through the morning, however, the reason for her absence became apparent. Mrs. Nemaramba came walking up the path, carrying a gift of fresh, warm bread for us to share. She had brought it with her, wrapped in a towel to keep it warm.

Mrs. Nemaramba had raised the wheat. She had harvested the wheat. She had processed the wheat into flour. She had baked the flour into bread, and now she had brought the bread for us to share. It was her gift to us for having shared in work that week at the Zimunya Skills Training Centre.

It was a sacramental moment. The Israelites in the wilderness (Exodus 16) were blessed with bread that came to them unexpectedly. We were only in Zimunya, but we were equally blessed with bread that came to us unexpectedly. As one of our team members received the bread, we gathered around--VIMers, brick layers, local volunteers, and the caretaker's children.

There was a word of blessing, and then the bread was broken and shared. It was round, warm, fresh, and delicious. And there was more than enough for everyone to have some. It was the best possible way to end our week of work at the Zimunya Skills Training Centre!

A Worldwide Work Crew

One of the issues debated at the 2008 General Conference of The United Methodist Church concerned constitutional amendments intended to help us move into becoming more of a worldwide church rather than a U.S. church with foreign outposts. These amendments--23 of them altogether-- have been sent for consideration to the Annual Conferences around the world. I was a strong supporter of these amendments, but I will not be surprised if the amendments do not receive the needed 2/3 majority.

In the meantime, the worldwide church is a reality, or at least it was for our work crew at the Zimunya Skills Training Centre the week of July 27 to 31.

Some of us flew thousands of miles to be there for a few days of work. Others of us walked several kilometers to get there each day. Some of us rode in a private omnibus to arrive at the site. Others of us rode in the back of a pick up truck to get there.

We were American, and we were African. We were skilled, and we were unskilled. We were male, and we were female. We were young, and we were--not so young! We were tall, and we were--not so tall.

Some of us knew exactly what needed to be done at the building site, and others of us didn't have a clue. Some of us spoke English more fluently than Shona fluently, while others of us spoke Shona more fluently than English. Some of us were familiar with hard work, while others of us discovered surprising aches and pains after just a few hours of moving bricks. And yet we were a crew--a team.

We moved bricks together, making neat stacks where they were needed. We shared work gloves with one another. We took "breathing breaks" together. We shared "beverage breaks" together. We took a "sugar cane break" together. We talked together. We laughed together. We looked to the future together. We became friends together.

The worldwide church? It was there at the Zimunya Skills Training Centre the last week in July with a worldwide work crew. And the rest of the church just needs to catch up.

At the Midpoint . . .

Wednesday, July 29, was the midpoint of our Volunteers in Mission trip to Zimbabwe. We were at Africa University in the morning and at Fairfield Children's Home in the afternoon.

As we exited the Africa University campus, we stopped to take a team picture at the stone entry way. Across the road was a different kind of stone--carvings and sculptures by a young man who had his wares on display.

I had wondered when I would have the opportunity to look at some stone carvings or sculptures. I had become thoroughly intrigued with this art form during my trip to Zimbabwe in January 2007. I had brought back several items from that visit, including a nativity set and a "Cross and Flame" sculpture. And now here was a stone carver, waiting--so it seemed--just for me!

His items were reasonably priced, at least in my judgment. Among other things, he had a nativity set for sale and several "Good Shepherd" sculptures of different stone. I eventually chose to buy one of polished brown stone. On the bottom of the sculpture was not only the sculptor's name but his e-mail address!

And the sculptor's name? It was Christopher, which means "Christ-bearer," and it was from him that I was blessed with "Good Shepherd." It seemed like a good sign at the midpoint of my trip.

It was a trip that had begun with meeting grace, and now it was blessed by the presence of Christ in an unexpected encounter at the entrance to Africa University.

Meeting NoMatter

One of the highlights of my Volunteers in Mission Trip to Zimbabwe was the opportunity to visit the Fairfield Children's Home located at Old Mutare Mission and to meet NoMatter, a girl whom my wife and I have sponsored for the past two years. It took place during our VIM team's visit on Wednesday afternoon, July 29.

I had first visited Fairfield Children's Home in January 2007 on my visit to Zimbabwe with the General Commission on Communications. The facility was originally established as an orphanage, but its focus has changed to that of a children's home which seeks "provide orphaned children with a family setting that maximizes their potential for optimal growth and development."

Two years ago, I was sufficiently impressed with what was being done there that I wanted to be part of this effort. After returning home, I checked out the web site for what is now called the Fairfield Outreach and Sponsorship Association.

In doing so, I found a list of children--identified only by their first names--who were being cared for at the Fairfield Children's Home. One was a girl named "NoMatter," who had been at the facility for three years at that time. She was listed as having a younger sister, Jane, and a younger brother, Nation. At the time, NoMatter was not listed as having a sponsor. It seemed like a good thing to provide that kind of support, and we have done so the last two years.

Early on, I wondered about the possible significance of her name. It seemed like it could be interpreted in such a way as to indicate that her mother or father might not have cared much about her. That was a completely wrong interpretation. My friend, Kennedy Mukwindidza, helped me understand that NoMatter's name really indicates courage, determination, hope, and perseverance. She will make her way through life, "no matter what!"

We arrived at Fairfield Children's Home on Wednesday afternoon, July 29. We paid a visit to the Craft Shop, which had a variety of consignment items for sale. We were then invited to "have a sit" in one of the duplexes for a time. [The expression simply means to come in, sit down, and visit.] After that, we had a chance to hear from the administrators of the facility about the work there.

I had corresponded with them before my trip about the possibility of meeting NoMatter. At first, I wasn't sure if this would be possible, since I was told that she was still in school at that time of the day. I didn't let the matter drop, however, and eventually someone was sent to get her out of school early for this occasion.

Our team was outside the administrator's office, having finished our conversation there, when NoMatter came walking down the road. I thought that it was her, but I wasn't completely sure. In a letter that we had received just a few weeks earlier, she described herself as "short and stout." She might be short, at least by American standards, but she is scarcely stout!

The two of us were introduced, and she took me to visit the duplex that is her home. She lives there with eight or nine other children. Her "blood sister" and "blood brother" are also part of the this family grouping. Her bed is in a room with three other girls. Her bed was neatly made, and she seemed proud to show me around.

We didn't have as much time as I might have liked, but it was probably about right under the circumstances. I wasn't sure of the protocol for such things, but I presented her with the small gifts I had brought for her--a new pair of flip flops, a necklace, and some head bands--all in a "Gloria Vanderbilt" bag of all things. She seemed genuinely overwhelmed, but I think that she was pleased.

I hope and pray that she will find her way in life, "no matter what!" It is good to remember that her name itself can help provide the courage, strength, and perseverance that she will need.