Sorry for the long delay between blog posts. The reason we've been lagging behind is because we had our first visitors! 8 months into our time in Africa,
we finally had the opportunity to show someone from back home what our life is
all about here. And who better to take that honour than the people that who
have truly made it possible for us to be here … my parents!
My parents’ visit has been on our hearts for a long time
now, not just because we missed being with them and looked forward to spending
time together, but because we so badly wanted them to understand why we were
here. We longed to be able to connect with them on the matters of our heart, to
show them how we live and the people we live with, and to see the work we do. We
also saw it as an opportunity for God to really place something on their
hearts.
While we were stoked about their arrival, we were also
extremely anxious. How are they going to adapt to living in the Hands Village,
sharing a common space with a bunch of young (relative to them), Christian
volunteers? How will they handle their time in the African communities and, in
particular, home visits? How will they respond to being in a very open
Christian environment? How will their conversations with Hands leaders go?
We didn’t want to place too many expectations on their trip
here but, at the same time, we were so hopeful that it would be much more than just
a visit. We prayed and prayed for God to be present and at work in their
hearts. Apparently, He was listening …
Before they arrived, we half-expected my parents to arrange
for a serious, sit-down conversation at some point during the trip to convince
us to come home after our one-year commitment with Hands was over. Instead,
they came to Africa fully present and ready to embrace whatever came their way.
Though their time with Hands was short (3 days and 4
nights), it couldn’t have been spent any better. They were able to spend two
days in the community – one in Mandlesive and the other in Share – where they
got a glimpse of what life looks like in the communities we serve. The
opportunity for Diane and I to do home visits with my parents was something
very special. I’ve said it here many times before but the heart of what we do
at Hands at Work is built upon home visits. It is the one thing we do that most
encompasses who we are as an organization and what we value. To have my parents
experience it and be a part of it was a huge blessing.
Despite the language barriers and cultural differences, it
was neat to see my parents connect with the Care Workers and the individuals we
visited. It’s something strange, almost a reversal of roles, to be filled with
pride and joy as you watch your parents step out of their comfort zone into a
completely foreign situation and thrive. We knew they were out of their
element. We knew they were uncomfortable. But what mattered is that they
embraced it with open hearts and allowed themselves to not just be present, but
also to fully take part.
Despite their very unique experiences in the African
communities, I think that what actually impacted my parents the most during
their time at Hands was meeting the rest of the Hands family – the people that
we live with and work alongside at the Hands Village (or “the Hub” as we’ve
referred to it before). My parents got a real taste of Hands hospitality, receiving
invitations into people’s homes for virtually every meal they had while they were staying at Hands Village. You know how the Chans love food! We had some amazing, home-cooked meals (thanks to all
the cooks!) and my mom even prepared a Chinese dinner for Diane and I and 4 of
our close friends here!
There is something truly unique about the Hands community
and it cannot be explained until you come and experience it for yourself. In
short, it is true to what it claims to be – a family and a community. Despite
coming from a variety of backgrounds (both international and African) and walks
of life, despite a bunch of unique personalities, we all share the same heart
and vision. The people here are so real, so authentic, so committed and so
passionate. They all understand what it means to live sacrificially and to live
in faith. There’s no other way to reasonably explain how a vision that began 10
years ago in the hearts of 4 individuals is now shared and lived out by
hundreds of people, despite not one of them being paid a single cent (or Rand)
for what they do. There is a genuine desire for people to invest in each
other’s lives, to care for and serve one another and to participate in each
other’s stories, that is unlike any other community I have been a part of. And
it is this very type of community that, I would argue, God envisioned all of us
to live in.
My parents can read my blog until their eyes are bleeding
(which is probably what happens when they go through some of my marathon posts)
but nothing can replace experiencing it firsthand. Before my parents even spoke
a word, I knew they had been deeply impacted by what they had gone through. I
could see it in the way they responded to others. I could hear it in the questions
they asked. And I could sense it in their hearts as they gave their farewell to
the Hands community on their last day at the Hands Village. My mom, too
overwhelmed by emotion, could barely speak a word. But she didn’t need to. My
dad, composed and intentional about each word as per usual, shared about their
brief time with Hands in such a powerful way that I was almost moved to tears (but,
just to be clear, I don’t cry. I work out.). He spoke of the encouragement of seeing
so many young people deeply committed to such a cause. He spoke of the
inspiration of seeing people’s faith lived out with such passion and joy, in
spite of the immense sacrifices many have taken and continue to take to be here.
He spoke of the newfound peace in their hearts for Diane and I to be here. That,
my friends, is God at work!
At the end of it all, it was undeniable that our prayers had
been answered above and beyond all expectations. My parents came. My parents
saw. My parents experienced. And through it all, they were left with an
impression so deep, that it was no longer just a visit for them. They now
understand. They are now involved. And they are now connected and interwoven as
part of the Hands family.
Who’s next?!*
* Well … we already know who was next … my cousin, Justin
(more about that in a separate blog post)! Who’s next next?
DISCLAIMER: The photos below could be interpreted by some
as a cheap ploy to convince you to visit us in Africa. Well, it is.
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| In through the Non-White doors, you Asians! (at the Apartheid Museum in Johannesburg) |
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| God's Window in Graskop |
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| The Potholes in Graskop |
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| Blyde River Canyon |
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| The Three Rondawels in the background |
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| Lisbon Falls |
