Kookie Cut-Outs by Rachel Britz

Delivering cookies and good news.

It’s a Small World

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This past week my family and I traveled to Arizona for a bizcation (business + vacation). I love how the act of removing yourself from house and home creates this unique space to connect in new ways. The heart becomes cleaner – less cluttered.

During our visit we decided to be brave and visit a local church that I had Googled the night before. When we arrived on Sunday morning we were surprised to run into an old friend from our church in Minnesota. He moved to Arizona a few years ago and we simply lost touch. It was a pleasant surprise to reconnect!

It really is a small world. I’m sure you’ve experienced it yourself a time or two. The moment where you’ve left your familiar world behind, traveled a great distance, and run smack dab into someone you know! The feeling this brings is like fireflies to your inmost being, it could be captured in a jar.

This small world experience has happened to me numerous times. Like the time I was climbing Pikes Peak and I stopped to savor the thin air; an older couple stopped too. We made small talk and I discovered, near the summit, that they were from my dad’s small town in Minnesota. We connected over the relatives of mine that they had relationships with.

Or how about the time I was in Africa, embedded in the thick bush, visiting a village of people and their goats. A white, grungy American appears out of no where. We talk briefly and I discover that he is working for the Peace Core and has come to this village for respite and socialization. He tells me he is from Colorado. I tell him I was married in Colorado on small ranch south of Estes Park. He asks me which one. I tell him Peaceful Valley Ranch. He smiles wildly and declares that he lived and worked there for many, many years.

It’s a small world.

Three beautiful things have recently become clearer to me as I continue to live under the umbrella of this quaint sphere.

Comfort – We crave, long, and yearn for it! Yet, if we never split the cocoon and emerge from it we will never become what we were fully made for. We will remain a worm. Instead, if we leave our dwelling of comfort for just long enough our unstable legs will strengthen, our slippery wings will unfold, and our true self will finally be free to venture to places beyond.

Connection– There is something spiritual about connection. Each time I’ve had a small world experience an awesomeness overcomes me. It makes my uncertain surroundings feel more wholesome. Complete. I wonder the purposes for connecting with an American man deep in the African bush? Perhaps, it was a small gift offering from the One who see’s, who brings things together, who connects.

Community– A people united. Community drives relationship and brings both comfort and connection back into full view. This is why were here. This is the meaning for our lives. Pastor Daniel from the orphanage I visited proclaimed over and over, “We all have different mother but same Father! We all have different mother but same Father!” To me, his words are the truth behind this tiny bubble we live in. Amen.

What would it look like if you stepped out of your world today? Who do you think you’d connect with? Go for it! Split the cocoon and allow the smallness of this world to impact you in a big way!

Five Minutes with Margaret

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The day I met Margaret was like none other.

Me and Margaret

Margaret is a widow who is caring for 24 orphaned children. Her husband died during the Sierra Leonean war that ended about a decade ago. Because of this tragedy, and the amount of loss that her community suffered, she knew that God was asking her to do something. So she began caring for a few orphaned children in her village.

The staff at The Raining Season had learned that Margaret was in need so they arranged for us to deliver rice and palm oil as a gift for her and the children. As we ventured out that morning, I had expected our excursion to take only a few hours. Instead, it took us the entire day to navigate through the congested city in 100 degree heat, intoxicating diesel fumes, and burning garbage wafting through the air. By the time we arrived we were wiped out.

Except…one look upon those children’s faces changed everything. Pulling into her drive, the children ran up to our poda (van) and greeted us with handshakes and bright smiles. Two of the children had special needs. We unloaded the gift of food and presented them to Margaret who was so filled with gratitude and giving God all the glory for her life.

Presenting the gift of rice and palm oil

After our brief welcome, 17 year old Yema pulled me aside. I could see the excitement in her eyes as she asked me question after question about America. Finally she asked, “I hear you wash in hot. Is this true?” We all laughed over the notion that as an American I enjoy a good, hot bath. Yema and her best friend proudly showed me their bedrooms.

Yema (on left) and her best friend

And after only 5 minutes, our team packed up and made the long trek back to the center. We all agreed that the journey was harsh but we wouldn’t have traded those precious minutes for anything.

It’s true, we don’t have to travel to Africa to make a difference in the life of someone else. As in the story of Margaret, sometimes the path to helping someone or being a difference maker can be long and grueling. My encouragement is to see the journey through. You may soon discover that the reward is just a bit farther down the beaten road! 

Do you have any food for me?

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What if she looked into your eyes and asked, “Do you have any food for me?”

This is Zaneb sitting in the hospital with her 16 month old daughter. During my stay at the orphanage we had a few outreach opportunities planned to get out and do good for the community of Freetown.

Visiting the hospital was first on the list. Brad, a doctor from Missouri, who was traveling with us brought a case of medical supplies to donate. Other than the donation, our intention was to see the facility and pray with those in need.

Zaneb was the first woman to make eye contact with me. I’ll admit that I felt a little fear rise up in me. Maybe fear isn’t the correct word, rather vulnerability. My American mind-set was fixed on the idea that my presence, my approach, my offering of prayer would offend or insult her. So, I first began by asking her name. I asked a little about her baby, but her face looked confused. She wasn’t fully understanding me and I wondered if she understood my English. I made small talk and eventually asked her if I could pray for her baby. She nodded her head in agreement. I reached out and touched the baby’s foot then bowed my head and prayed a simple prayer of health and healing. I opened my eyes and into those chocolate drops peering straight back at me.

“Do you have any food for me?” Zaneb asked.

I stopped breathing for a moment. My mouth dropped. I had nothing with me; no money, no food, not even a crumb. I had come empty handed even though I am not empty. In fact, I am very full. I wanted to say “Yes, yes I have food for you! How much do you need? Whatever you ask I shall give to you!” Instead, I had to tell Zaneb “I am sorry but I do not have anything for you.”

I left feeling like a wretched person. I felt as though I had failed an epic assignment.

When we returned to the center I overheard the staff discussing their return to the hospital the following week and then it hit me, my second chance! So, I gave a sum of money along with the picture of Zaneb to the person returning the next week and asked that they bless her with the gift.

I’ve thought a lot about her and wondered if she ever received the food I sent for her. This side of Heaven I will never know the outcome, but this I do know, if I am willing to give out of my whole heart He will be faithful to complete it.

Even if it takes a second chance!

Shock and Raw

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When I first arrived in Sierra Leone the sun had just set upon the electricity-barren city of Freetown. It was dark. Pitch. No sound of humming engines or the buzz of lights. Only people. Lots and lots of African people and a handful of us white Americans. It was also hot. Hotter than your mama’s cookies comin’ straight from the oven.

The team I traveled with had been here before (many, many times before) so I followed their lead through the discombobulated airport, onto the overcrowded van that would shuttle us to the ferry, and then onto the rusty boat that furled an obscene amount of black smoke. By the time we docked, city-side, I was ill and threw up over the side of the pier. What a fantastic way to say ‘Hello Africa! I am here!’ Feeling relieved, I rejoined the group and met Andrew and Osseh who work for The Raining Season (the orphanage). They collected our bags and we all piled into their van to embark for the center.

A few of my travel companions on the ill-fated ferry ride

With my eyes still adjusting to the dark, I could scarcely make out the shadows of people flowing here and there and everywhere. The magnitude of humans cohabiting in this city is mind blowing. Culture shock. I blink rapidly and swallow hard. It’s a lot to digest even in the dark. Finally we arrive at the center, it’s late and the children are asleep in their apartment style bedrooms. Once we get to the guest house I change my clothes, brush my teeth, tuck the mosquito net into my bunk and crash.

When I wake, I hear singing. Praise. Children worshiping their God. My stomach flips with excitement because I can’t wait to meet them. I dress quickly and venture out to find them. They are waiting to greet all of us. When I arrive in their community room, this is what is awaiting me:

Raw Beauty. I spend the remainder of the day sitting, holding, and smiling with all these sparkly-eyed children. I soak in it presence of this sacred place. There is brokenness under those dirt creased hands and feet. But here, behind these protected gates, I sense holiness and the remaking of their tiny spirits. At some point in the day I faintly hear God whisper…I am making all things new.

And He is, and He has, and it was only my first day!

100%- A glimpse at sex-trade

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I’ve just returned from my 12 day journey to Africa. Broken and bruised, humbled and changed, motivated and renewed would describe the plethora of emotions swirling in my heart and mind. Where o’ where do I begin?

Let’s begin at the end. My journey home.

Meet Cherry. A 28 year old cab driver from Freetown.

You spend a lot of time driving to get from place to place in this city. Poor roads and unimaginable congestion create an abundance of time to make lasting friendships. Cherry was one of them.

A few days before our scheduled flight home Jill and I asked Cherry if he would be willing to bring us all the way to the airport to make sure that we got their safely. It would require a full day. Since the airport is on an island, assessable only by boat, it takes a great deal of time to navigate your departure.

“Yes, I can do that…” he replied. “100%!”

100%. A guarantee that leaves no margin for error. As my journey was coming to a close, his assurance of a safe send-off gave me chills. The gift of shalom was alive and well.

Departure day came. We enjoyed lunch and conversation rich in family, relationships, America, and yes, even faith. It was good. Boarding the boat, a man approached Cherry and began a conversation. The two of them settled into a seat next to one another as we set sail across the water. Once the boat docked, the strange man seemingly dispersed as we shuttled ourselves in the direction of the airport. Almost under his breath, in passing, Cherry said to us,

“Remember you don’t trust anybody.”

Hmmm…that’s an odd statement.

“But Cherry, we trust you!” Jill replied.

“I know but just remember you don’t trust anybody.”

“I’m confused. Are you referring to the man on the Hoover craft?” Jill questioned.

“When you arrive in Ghana, this man will likely ask to help you with your bags or ask to help you through the airport. You don’t trust anybody!” Cherry implied.

And that was the end of the conversation. We said our good-byes over a can of coke, checked into our flight, and crossed through customs. As we settled into the hard plastic airport chairs, the man from the Hoover craft took a seat directly across from us. He smiled and attempted to strike up a conversation. We didn’t reciprocate. Just then he reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and began to boldly video tape Jill and I. Several awkward minutes passed until we decided to take our belongings and find a different seat.

Finally it was time to board the plane. Interestingly, we noted that the man waited to be the very last to board the plane. Finding an open seat, he sat next to Jill and once again attempted to strike up a conversation. Since Jill and I were not seated next to each other, she waited until moments before take off to move into the open seat next to myself.

Our flight to Ghana was uneventful. Well…until the very end, when seconds before touch down the pilot made a sudden change and sent our plane rocketing back up into the Heavenly skies. For about 10 minutes we didn’t know if it was mechanical, hijacked, or simply miscommunication. It was miscommunication and eventually we landed safely.

Safely into the presence of this stalking man.

“So, have you guys ever been to Ghana before?” says the man.

Again we ignore him. Within moments we find an airport agent willing to escort us all the way through baggage claim, customs, and onto our connecting flight. Ghana airport is interesting. In order to make your connecting flight you’re required to leave one building, walk outside into a congested sea of people and traffic, and reenter a completely different building. Oddly, the man disappeared and we never saw him again.

In hindsight (after much processing), Jill and I firmly believe that we were being set up, in the early trappings of some sort of sex-trade operation. It could have been a different outcome for us. Like that of the 27 million sex-slaves world wide. It’s real. It’s ugly. It’s happening right now.

Today, April 9th is END IT day! For more information on how you can shine a light on the sex-slave trade click here.

I’m totally and completely in awe of so many things through this experience. God’s nudge – the way he used this creepy experience to highlight just how easy a trade, a transaction could occur. In the blink of an eye, on a dark confusing street in Ghana, the outcome could have been completely different.

I have so much to be thankful for during my African adventure. I’m especially grateful to those God used (including Cherry) who helped to fulfill the gift of a lifetime and bring me safely home. 100%.

Boiling Point Band- “Brand New Day”
See them live @ Livestock Music Fest