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I am trying to figure out what exactly language school is. Is it the four hours a day I spend with my language instructor as he tutors me in grammar and structure? Or is it when I spend two hours cooking in the kitchen with Charlotte and talk to her about my day? Or maybe it is when I know I have to make that phone call in French and it scares me to death, so I spend fifteen minutes looking up all the possible vocabulary words. Or maybe it is when I have to order something at a restaurant or tell the man how to fill up my car with gas. It could even be when I play in the street with the kids and have to explain to them how to play a new game.  What exactly is language school? My life right now is language school. My best friend is my little orange notebook where I write down words and phrases, sometimes a hundred a day. I then study those words and phrases each night, and I finish each day by reading a passage out of my new french Bible.  Sometimes I am amazed at h...

After week three of language school finished, my mind was something like a washed-out river bank. I felt like I had been pelted with wave after wave of instruction, and I was just a little bit tired. But it was a good kind of tired - that Wild River County kind of tired - like you just spent four hours playing in the wave pool and now you are utterly exhausted.  Learning language is a complex activity, not just for the mind but for the heart as well. What I mean is this: it is hard to actually measure your progress or how well you are doing, which makes it hard on the spirit as well as on the mind. For example, I can have a great conversation with someone and actually walk away feeling successful. The next moment, I can't understand a word being said and I struggle to get the right sounds to come out of my mouth. I feel victory one moment and defeat the next. It's a wild ride, kind of like a see-saw. I am having fun with the ups and downs, and I realize that both are necessary....

"Are you happy?"  This is my mom's favorite question to ask. In fact, she is kind of known for it around our house. The conversation usually starts with the typical "how are you?" but just being "fine" is never enough. That's why she also always adds, "But are you happy?" I have to admit, we make fun of her for it. But I also have to admit that this week I would have done anything to have her near me to say it.  It's funny the things that you miss when you are away from home.  I was thinking one morning about how I would answer her if she were hear to ask me. It's a little hard to say. On one hand, of course I am happy! I am in Africa! I have been dreaming about this life for as long as I can remember, and it is just as marvelous as I knew it would be. At the same time though, I knew something was missing. A genuine happiness. An natural  happiness. Something about my happiness felt pushed, forced, and a just a little fake. I kno...

I officially had nothing to do. Class was over for the day, it was noon, and I had nothing planned until 6:30 in the evening. I knew that no one was at the house, so I did not want to go back there all alone. So I did the only thing I knew to do: I prayed, asking God to show me what I could do for him.  That's when I met  Emmanuel. I walked right out the door of the classroom where I spent the morning, and there he was in his wheelchair. It was kind of like a wheelchair and kind of like a recumbent bicycle.  Imagine a cross between the two made out of scrappy wood and flat tires. His smile was bigger than the moon's. I wanted an opportunity to practice french, and I had just prayed for the Lord to show me what to do. This must be it.  He quickly pointed out to me an array of artwork propped up against the wall. I asked him to show me his work and he explained how he hand-painted each piece. He even invited me to put together one of his puzzles, so I sat down and made...

She is from England and has an amazing British accent. She has the driest sense of humor paired with extraordinary sarcasm. You can't believe a word she says, yet every once in a while she speaks truth out of a heart that adores Christ. She has lived in Burkina Faso for ten years and now spends her time loving on street boys in Ouagadougou. The best thing is that she absolutely loves God and Burkina Faso. That's Kate for you. One of the things I love about living in Ouagadougou is that I get to meet the coolest people ever. People from all over the world with crazy life stories who have all ended up in Burkina Faso some way or another to serve Jesus. Kate is just one of those people.  Kate has agreed to take on mentor relationship with me, and we get together once a week to talk and pray. This week when we met, I had just finished a hard  day in language school. Some days, I understand the questions and flow with the conversation. Other days, like this day in particular, I fee...

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.  Stil...

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,...