"I miss the rains down in Africa"

My dad left for Tanzania yesterday. He goes two to three times a year. He'll be traveling for about 24 hours which is absolutely awful, but will be worth it in the end.

He has assisted in starting 5 primary schools (take that Oprah) in some of the poorest villages in the country with the support of Perimeter church. And he is now looking at starting a secondary school. It's really incredible the way God chooses to use him.

I have loved Tanzania, felt called to it, or passionate about it...whatever term you choose, since the 10th grade. I remember reading in my world history book about poor countries and at the time Tanzania was the poorest country in the world based upon GDP.

I remember thinking that there must be so many people there that needed help. And I couldn't imagine a place where orphans outnumber the employed and you are lucky if you have a meal of rice and beans every other day.

My church "happened" to be going to Tanzania the following summer, so I went. And my Dad requested to come along with me.

I now sometimes wonder if the reason God got me so interested in Africa was just to get my Dad over there. To get him passionate and involved. To use him in something so much bigger than himself.

In my family Africa is my Dad and I's thing. No one else really gets it. Simply because they haven't seen it. In fact, I think everyone who has been to East Africa sorta has this shared part of themselves. When I meet people who have been there we often share a humble smile and really don't have to say much else.

There is nothing that changes you like witnessing utter joy and hope in God in the midst of devastating poverty and disease. There is no one as beautifully hopeful as Africans.

After living there for ten weeks the summer of 2006 and working with the HIV/AIDS training branch of a mission organization, I decided that I want to help start hospices in some of Africa's larger cities. To host those dying of AIDS. I saw too many people rotting away on the floor of mud huts...yes, it's really like the commercials, and the starch white sheets and electric beds at my hospital remind me of it far too often.

I don't know when or how or if I'll ever actually live in Africa. But I know I'll be involved. I know I want to be a part of something that will last, just like my Father's schools. I know I want to be used in something much bigger than myself.