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I have an announcement to make.  I'm a homeowner! Okay, not really....but a home-renter at least. I have my first little house in Africa, a place entirely my own, a place where I am free to show hospitality. Africa has taught me a lot about hospitality as it is one of the greatest cultural values. Funny though, the more I read God's Word, the more I find commands to show hospitality and welcome the visitor, outsider, widow, and orphan. I'm beginning to realize that it's not an African thing, it's a biblical thing, and I'm wondering why I'm just now figuring this out.  Because of this, I view my house as a gift. A tool in my ministry toolbox. Something God has given me to be given right back to him. Something not to be kept to myself, but something to be shared. That's why I am adopting a "doors always open" policy.  And God must agree because it's  amazing how much has already  happened in just one week.  The day that I moved, just when I w

I sat across the table from our two college student visitors. I want to call them interns because that's what they were last year, but this year as they came back for their second summer, their experience has been a little different.  We sat under an open-air, thatched-roofed, concrete slab with two Sprites and a Fanta as we waited for our rice and peanut sauce to arrive. We watched the ladies out back spread their millet flour out in the sun to dry. Our server was not in any kind of hurry (I'm not sure hurry is even possible in Burkina Faso), so we passed the time talking with one another - something I'm afraid that the fast-paced American culture is losing or has already lost.  "How is this year's experience different than last year, and what do you think is the main thing God is trying to teach you?" (These friends know me well enough to not expect a surface level question...)  The two agreed that last year was more structured and planned, which is true. Wi

I shouldn't be awake right now, but I can't fall asleep. My body is exhausted, but my mind is awake with possibilities. I know that as soon as I put this down, I will be out like a light (especially since I'm writing in bed) but I'm too excited to stop now. It is my first night in my new house, and I already love it here.  It's been an Extreme Home Makeover Africa Edition if you ask me. Just over three weeks ago, this place was dust central with lizard poop piling up on the floors. But with a little help from my family who painted the walls, dad who built shelves, and some interns who painted the floor, things have shaped up really nicely. In the past twenty-four hours, I packed up my old room, went to the market to outfit my kitchen, unpacked everything into the new house, cleaned it up, and arranged it all where should go. I even have all my pictures on the wall and magnets on the refrigerator as a finishing touch. All the empty boxes are in a stack by the door, a

One bright Wednesday morning at 7am, we embarked on an adventure that I can guarantee you has never been done before.  From where we come from in the southern United States, boats are a recreational pastime. Need to get away for the weekend? Grab a canoe and go on a float trip. Need a place in the summer to hang out with your friends? Get a boat and head to the lake. Need a leisurely afternoon? Load up your kayak and head to the river. Boats are just fun. I love boats.  I'm not sure that really translates into Burkina culture. Boats are for fishing, boats are for work, and your average Dagara person is scared of water and would have no desire to go out in a boat anywhere.  That's why I say that when six white people showed up at the lakeside shore and offered to pay two fisherman to take us out on the lake in their boats, I can pretty much guarantee you that's never been done before. They probably thought we were crazy, and it was so worth it.  I thought we were going to si

I can't believe how fast ten days can go, and I can't believe how much ten days can hold.  My entire family - dad, mom, and little sister (affectionately now called "petite soeur") - landed in Burkina Faso on June 27 and then left on July 7. I didn't blog while they were here, mainly because I didn't have time but also because I gave myself the permission not to. While they were here, I wanted to be with them every moment and not waste a single minute doing anything else.  Now as I sit in my empty room, I miss their suitcases that I would trip over. I miss having three other people sleeping in the room with me and talking me to sleep. I miss how they flooded the bathroom every night because the shower curtain situation is tedious. And I'm trying to process and put into words how much their trip meant to me. How much they mean to me.  I could write about how dad used his gift of study and teaching to host a two-day seminar for church leaders on the book of