Deserve

Injustice frustrates me.

It boils in me this anger and insistence that the right thing will be done; the bad will be punished and the good will get their reward and compensation.

Steve and I were friends when was celebrating his 22^nd birthday. I was at his apartment as he opened his table football set from his buddy Iain and was filled with joy until he realized that two of the four defenders were missing. Before he knew it, I was on the phone to the store stating my disapproval. When the help I received was not satisfactory, I called the head office customer services declaring “You wouldn’t ask England to play without Sol Campbell and Rio Ferdinand would you?!” I was one step away from calling a national state of emergency.

My irrational passion paid off: we were provided a new set as well as reimbursement for travel costs incurred. I had defeated “The Man”.

On my birthday, I received SOOO many lovely messages; my primary love language is ‘Words of Affirmation’ meaning I feel most “loved” when people say or write nice things about me (though oddly enough it thoroughly embarrasses me when people say them to my face!!)

“I hope you have had a fab day and been totally spoilt as you deserve”

“Hope you enjoy ur day, u deserve it”

“Have a lovely day you deserve it”

What do I deserve?

I don’t know why this word has troubled me in recent weeks

If you are deemed good then society says you “deserve” good things – a good birthday getting wasted with loads of presents…a great family…

I guess I struggle when I think of those who have the same birthday as me, born the same year as me, and what they got.

Dirty water? Family death? HIV?

Why weren’t their gifts good? Didn’t they deserve it too?

Yet while I sympathize, my actions tell a different tale.

Why does only the injustice of missing plastic football players drive me to the telephone and time demanding a wrong is put to right but I tell no one of the suffering of those both home and abroad.

Clean water.

Internet connection.

Rent payment.

Social networking.

Deadly mosquito bites.

Sinus trouble.

HIV.

Often our worries are petty, pathetic and pedestrian in comparison to the real issues of this world – education, healthcare, sanitation, communicable disease,

I think about my recent adventure to the African continent. Did Ghana change me?? Yes, it opened my eyes to another world, though I have experienced poverty of that magnitude in Nicaragua, and arguably in some places in England and America, but was I so changed that my life looks completely different??

Honestly and ashamedly, no.

It has affected my heart, yes. I look through my pictures and videos, or bring it up into conversation and the smell of the red ground permeates, as I am right there walking through the streets.

But still I am still.

Unmoved by these words:

“Anyone who sets himself up as "religious" by talking a good game is self-deceived. This kind of religion is hot air and only hot air. Real religion, the kind that passes muster before God the Father, is this: Reach out to the homeless and loveless in their plight, and guard against corruption from the godless world.”

Check out www.GlobalRichList.com – it simply calculates where you in terms of the richest people in the world. Last year with my modest missionary wage (not including Steve’s money) I was in the top 13%.  This year despite no fixed  salary, I am in the top 14.81%

By simply being a part of the West, by my currency being strong, my country being a superpower, with no job I end up in the top 15%.

Do I deserve this?

People deserve to be equal. When I posted a previous note entitled “Feminists”, several of my favourite girl friends and I had a great discussion on whether we really were equal. I had several days and nights of pondering and questioning all that was shared.

Our world isn’t equal.

I read once that there is enough money in the world for everyone to have $17 million.

Cancer affects 1/3 of people during their lifetime.

Clean water is a merely a dream for too many.

People don’t always get what they deserve.

Sometimes they get more.

Sometimes they get less.

I am working on changing this guilt into action. 

Field Trip

Our last full day in Accra was truly a beautiful day.

Our hectic schedule included visiting an orphanage, a school, a market and a beach. Driven by Royalhouse Chapel's drive of 17 years, Harrison, we spent what felt like most of our day listening to the honking horns of Ghanaian traffic. But the long drives from place to place gave me lots of time to think and reflect. 

Our first stop was to see Miss Beckylynn runs Pathfinders, a home for children who have been orphaned as a result of either (or both) of their parents dying from HIV/AIDS. The children are aware that their parents have died, but not the reason why. This is for two reasons:

1. So they are not stigmatized by their school mates or those in the community around the orphanage

2. They do not stigmatize themselves (thus leading to self-fulfilling prophecy – where you believe bad myths about your race/gender/situation, and through your own fault, live up to the low expectations set by these folklores)

Twenty children, ranging in ages 2 to 17, gathered anxiously on wooden benches, excited that the number of guests exceeded them.

For once they wouldn’t have to share, but have one-on-one time with an adult.

Steve and I quickly became engaged in conversation with Selestina, a 15 year old with aspirations of being a civil engineer. Her father, only the day before, had dropped her off to be placed in the capable hands of Pathfinders, seemingly in the aftermath of her mother to that life-taking illness. For an unknown/unexplained reason, her siblings remained with her dad. Her manner was warm and educated. She was planning on setting up a Christian Club at her school as she wanted to see people genuinely living out their faith and encouraging one another.

Mavis, aged 17, was single, abandoned and pregnant. She only spoke Tre (one of the many regional languages of Ghana) which was a sign of her lack of education (Ghanaian students in good schools, are taught in English) so translation was difficult. As Selestina told me she was 7 months pregnant, all my questions seemed pointless and silly. I felt like I had no words of encouragement to this young troubled woman, who was painfully shy and embarrassed to be asked questions, embarrassed to be the center of attention when she had previously been ostracized by her previous community. She felt it was shame that had resulted in her arrival at Pathfinders.

Elijah, no more than 2, strode confidently over to Andrew (Pais:Ghana apprentice from Northern Ireland), reaching his hands upwards, as a signal to be lifted into Andrew’s arms. Andrew’s surprised but very paternal obedience to the wordless command brought a smile to the toddler’s face. 

We ran relay races played games, and sang songs. One girl's request of both ‘The First Noel’ and ‘Hark the Herald Angels sing’ was met with stifled laughter, but as we sang and saw a smile rise, we realized that somehow these festive songs brought a joy to her spirit.

When so much had been taken away from her, who could we not happily meet her simple request.

Before we left, we handed out school supplies to each student. They lined up excitedly, as each apprentice passed over a coloured notebook and a decorated bright blue paper sack containing coloured crayons, pencils, erasers and a glue stick. Esther (Pais:Ghana apprentice from Germany) was firm in her ask for a yellow notebook stating “It’s that girl’s favourite colour.”

We somberly got back onto the bus; the scorching sun smudging make up, and sweat falling down our foreheads as we grabbed and shared the few water bottles we had between us. Carmen (Pais:Ghana apprentice from Mexico; was on Steve’s team Jan-June 2009) and I looked around the neighbourhood as we continued our journey. How different would our lives have been had this been our home? How much does the environment a person is brought up in shape the adult they become?

How easy it was to bring a smile to their faces with a fun action song, and a nicely decorated gift bag.

How easy it was to meet their maybe strange, but very obtainable, desires.

How easy it is to take for granted all that you have, then visit a place where others are in need, or see a sad story on the news, or read a harrowing tale of poverty in the paper…

…and have your heart moved, your gut wrenched, your tears fall…

…and tomorrow be no more changed than you were before you had even seen or heard.

My friend Anna, a self-confessed hater of all Physical Education in school, and all organized sport, ran in the Great North Run on Sunday.

13 miles, on a cold and rainy northern England morning, in a time of 3 hours 30 minutes.

She describes her idea of exercise as dancing at clubs on Saturday nights and walking to the fridge for a bar of chocolate. She lost toenails, bled through her shoes and has two almighty blisters but was led to put her “squidgy around the edges” body through it for a reason:

“I am running this to raise lots of money to help people with visual impairments like my Pa. Losing his sight affected his life in more ways than you could imagine and I hope that the money I raise will help support those who have lost their sight and also help in the research and treatment of diseases that cause blindness.“

Father God, would you make me a person, who doesn't forget, cannot forget, and is changed beyond words...

...and into action.