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Stanislas and Charlotte Hien grew up together, but neither one of them stayed in their home village. They both moved on.  Stanislas began a Bible translation project in 1998. Charlotte became an accountant. They were married in 2003 and are now living in the big city of Ouagadougou, away from village life roots and their original people group.   Listening to their story over dinner one night this week, I did not understand every detail because it was spoken in French, but I understood enough to share with you their incredible testimony. Even though they were far away from their original village, Charlotte began to have dreams that Stanislas would return to the Dagara people. Therefore, she was in no way surprised when he later expressed his desire to go back to his people, the Dagara, to strengthen the churches and spread the gospel. She supported him (along with such a drastic transition) because the Lord had given her foreknowledge through her dreams.  Still such a visio

The trunk slid into the back seat easily and fit right next to the box of grapefruit that I bought at the market that day. I closed the door and looked at London with both excitement and nervousness in my eyes. "It's like you're going to college," she said, "only better!" So true. And I have a whole lot less stuff. I said goodbye to the Richters, pulled out of the guest house, and was on my own for the first time since arriving in Burkina Faso. I just hoped that I could find my way to my new house, where my host family, the Hiens, would be waiting for me.  I couldn't. I got pretty close, but the dirt roads started to all look the same and the waning sun complicated my navigation. So I had to call Geoffrey and then he had to call Stanislas to come and find me. So much for being out on your own, huh? I am learning that even though I came to Burkina to help the people, I must first learn to receive help from them.  The Hiens - Stanislas, his wife Charlotte,

I did not want to believe what my ears were hearing. Triplets born by cesarean section. One had trouble breathing at birth and died. A mother goes crazy after the birth of her child. The father flees not only the home, but the country. The child is left alone.  A case of postpartum psychosis causes a mother to hold her child by his feet and bang his head against the wall. A black trash bag is found in a cemetery with a placenta and baby inside. The mother had the child out of wedlock and was afraid, so she left it to die. Miraculously, the infant was found and survived. The name he has been given in dagara means "God wants him."  An orphan is brought by a relative to our city, but is turned away because no place is found where the child can stay to be cared for.  These are the true stories that Rebecca and Juliette, the burkinabe women who oversee the Infants in Distress program here, tell us in our team meeting this week. When they were asked to give

It is hard to believe that I arrived in Burkina Faso a week ago. The time has flown by, and  it seems like a lot has happened in just one week. I have settled into my little house, received a tour of my new town, and taken my new car out for a few spins. I have visited a village church, attended a team meeting with all our of national team members here, and spent quite a bit of time with African friends on the front porch as they daily come for visits. I have eaten many a mango already, and I have also learned quite a few french words.  I must also report that this week saw the capture of our unwanted house guest, the little brown mouse, whose position was given away by London's scream from the kitchen late one night. The dogs were let in, and within a few minutes, Revelie was parading out the front door with a long tail hanging out of her mouth. Problem solved. Just in case you were wondering. Even though it seems that a lot has happened this week, it has also been a some

After collecting my luggage, pulling back my hair, and feeling a gust of hot dessert wind hit my face, I decsended down the stairs, off the plane, and right onto the ground of Burkina Faso.  Of all the deep and meaningful things I could have thought about in that moment, this is literally what ran through my mind.  "That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind."  You may think I am joking, but I assure you I am not. I felt like I was walking on the moon.  The truth is, it has taken every ounce of my physical stamina, emotional strength, and spiritual energy to get to that point of arrival in Burkina Faso. It has also taken every resource and every person that I know to get me here. Indeed, that first step onto Burkinabe ground was one giant, remarkable leap of faith.  And so I am here! I am currently sitting in my little room in my little guest house (affectionately called "ashlidougou" meaning "the place of Ashli". Th

She was made the year I was born. My car seat sat in her back seat when I was a toddler. She drove me to school every day. When I turned 16, I was handed her keys. She went to college with me and drove me to work every day after that. She has watched me grow up and has been a part of every stage in my life. Yes, we go way back.  Meet Lucy. She's my 1992 Honda Accord.  We know each other well. I know that she doesn't like the cold weather because it makes her groan in the front right part of the hood. I know that she can go 420 miles on one tank of gas and that you have to click her gas cap two times when you screw it shut or she will turn on the check engine light. I know her quirks, like how you have to hold the driver's side door handle open while pressing the button to get her to lock. I know exactly how fast she can go in each gear, and I know the feel of her clutch like no one else. I have cleaned all her nooks and crannies. I know how she smells kind of musty when it

I think I possibly just had the best weekend of my life.  It all began Friday night when  eight of my very best friends came to my house so we could spend the weekend all together again. My house was not build to house extra girls on top of our family of four, but we made it work. And it made my heart smile to wake up on the couch Saturday morning to see our living room literally covered with my sweetest friends. I am not sure I could even see the carpet.  To my best friends, thank you for loving me.  In addition to being surrounded by my closest friends and family this whole weekend, I also got to be a part of a marvelous send-off party on Saturday night. The potluck was pretty good I hear, but I can't say I ate too much of it. My heart was fed instead. I cannot believe the love and encouragement that I felt and received during those hours. Thank you to everyone who came. You were a part of something that I will treasure for the rest of my life, and God used you to remind me of hi

10 days!  The countdown in on, and the packing has officially begun.  My to-do list that I began four months ago is now a bunch of thick black lines through crossed-off items. According to logistics, I am ready. I have all my paperwork and documentation. My finances are set and my debit cards are ready to work internationally. After three visits to the doctor, four phone calls to their office, and about twenty calls to the mail order pharmacy, I think I finally have a year's supply of malaria prophylaxis coming in the mail. (Because nothing is ever easy...)  I have my chacos and my sunscreen and a big ole container of Tang. Yes, I think I  am finally ready.  And my heart cries the same. My poor little heart has survived a long period of preparation and waiting, and with that comes many intense emotions. I have shed a few tears. Faced many fears. Felt a deeper assurance. Bounced off the walls with excitement. Unable to fall asleep at night. Grieved. Appreciated.  Surrendered.  Surre

There is something about the mountains. The air is cleaner, the sky is bluer. And God just seems closer.  I wonder if God made them that way. Maybe he made the mountains so big so that they would make him seem bigger. Maybe he made the sky so clean so that we could see him clearer. Maybe he made the air so fresh so that we could know what his breath feels like.  Or maybe God made my heart that way. Maybe he made my heart to be drawn to the mountains so that I could feel small, and so that I could know how grand he is. Maybe he made my heart to be attuned to his presence when I am surrounded by his creation.  Because when I spend all day in the mountains, I can hear them sing. The mountains say, "See how big and strong God is - he is immovable and unshakable." The skies say, "See how vast God is - He is surrounding you and covering you." The clouds say, "Look how dynamic God is - He is always creating and molding you." The snow says, "Look how pure and