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I’ve been home for a week. Even though I’ve been working in Africa as a missionary with my husband since 1987 and have taken part in many outreaches of all kinds, I’m still deeply moved when returning home from an outreach. Our home is Africa, our hearts beat for Africa, and we say our lives are lived for Africa. Currently, we live in Pretoria, South Africa. Over the years I’ve walked this journey of hope, I have seen a lot. Nevertheless, Africa never ceases to pull me in and amaze me.

This journey has brought us through many countries. We have lived in Zaire (now the DRC), Kenya, Burundi, Tanzania, Zambia, Malawi, and South Africa. Now, those who have served with us have begun planting out in new countries, namely Uganda and Mozambique. It’s rewarding to see our team of national leaders grow and expand into new nations.

It began with a pot and spoon

While I might be experienced and have some years under my belt, I still love to go and work in local communities where we have churches planted. This began for me when we were living in Burundi and had planted our first church. A civil war rocked the nation in the mid-1990s. At the time, it didn’t feel like a hopeful situation at all. But we had to believe God had better things in store. People fled their homes by the tens of thousands due to the violence. Several thousand of these internally displaced refugees settled in schools and government buildings near our new church. I had little money, but I did have a large pot and a wooden spoon. I had hoped that we could do something. Thus began the journey of hope into feeding. I started cooking porridge for displaced children and haven’t stopped cooking since.

It’s not enough

I’m often asked what good it does to feed a child one meal a day. I am fully aware of the fact that one meal a day isn’t enough, but it isn’t nothing either. For most of those we have fed over the years, we choose the most vulnerable ones; that one meal is often all the food they will eat the entire day. Once, I heard Joyce Meyer say, “If you had a bad headache but knew if you took one pill, that headache would disappear for an hour, wouldn’t you take it? Wouldn’t the hour free of pain be worth it?” This is the approach I’ve taken when feeding and reaching out to the vulnerable in our communities. One hour without hunger in a safe place where your food won’t be stolen means a lot.

Small victories

We have partnered with Hand of Hope (the missions branch of Joyce Meyer Ministries) for many years. They have been a major supporter of our community outreaches. Together with their help and that of many others, we have seen feeding outreaches launched, schools opened, prisoners receive care packages, and many, many come to hear and respond to the Gospel. It’s been a journey of hope as well as a journey of faith!

While this all reads nicely, there are names behind those numbers. There are stories behind the victories, and each small victory joined together with other small victories, builds into great ones. Yet I have learned that the small victory, a small journey of hope, is by no means less important than the larger one.

Called out many times

I have often said when speaking of outreach, “If one person is helped, it’s enough.” God has called me out on that many times. The hard work of feeding, clothing, and teaching in local communities often appears to have little effect while you’re doing it. The dust, mud, sickness, lack of help, and financial pressures felt in the middle of it all take center stage. Day in and day out, the list of difficulties chokes out any good news. It’s easy to get tired. It’s also easy to get stressed.

But we keep going. We keep churning out plates of food, paying medical bills, and opening schools. We keep hoping because the Kingdom of God is especially reserved for the children.

A lot required

I served in Malawi for nearly 13 years, and last week, I returned for a week-long free clinic sponsored by Hand of Hope. We joined forces with our local church people and a team of 20 volunteer medical workers from the USA (sent by Hand of Hope) to reach a community called “Mtsiliza,” where we have had a church, school, and feeding center for many years. Preparing for the outreach took nearly a year. We had to acquire permission for visiting medical personnel from the USA to practice legally in the country, reserve hotel rooms, find transportation, apply for visas, and purchase medication. It takes a lot to pull something like this off.

Part of the organizing required us to have a team of 20 translators (roughly one per volunteer). Our leaders in Malawi had already gathered the translators, but I wanted to meet them personally before we began. We were set to begin on Monday, October 21st, so I scheduled a meeting for Sunday, October 20th, at the clinic site. Everyone was on time for the meeting, save one person who was sternly warned not to be late again—and wasn’t! We had a great time discussing what to expect during the clinic.

A plate of food meant something

One of the translators, named Amos, asked to see me quickly after the meeting. He was young and had a big smile on his face. I was caught off guard by his words as my mind was directed to the business side of the outreach. “I’m Amos; I’m one of the first children you fed here in Mtsiliza. I am now grown up and work as a nurse. The food you fed me every day when I was a child kept me hopeful for my future, and God has helped me get to where I am today.” I understood then that this week was going to be a journey of hope and healing for many.

Never for nothing

Amos worked with us all week long. I don’t think I saw him once without a smile on his face the entire time. The work was hard; we arrived every day at 7:15 a.m. and found the translators cleaning and setting up for the day’s activities. The tears and frustrations of those years I spent working to feed in Malawi weren’t for nothing. There is one; his name is Amos, and indeed, it is enough. The frustrations are long forgotten as I think of the life that has changed with a plate of food.

Organizing the line

My job at these clinics, after organizing on the front end, has been crowd control. I help get people in line and organized to enter and see the doctors. This is no ordinary feat, yet for some reason, I can pull off getting people in line. It’s always been this way, even at our feeding sites. At every outreach we have done with feeding, I’m the one who has had to negotiate the lines. And I get it done.

October is one of the hottest, if not the hottest, months of the year in Malawi. It is also very dry. We didn’t want to hold a clinic during the rainy season, and October was the month that worked best for organizational purposes. However, we didn’t realize how hot and dusty it would be. The winds blew, and dust was everywhere. There was no escape from the heat or the dust. But the people kept coming; they kept lining up to be seen. So, we kept going even when tempers flared in line when someone wanted to cut in or medications were running out.

Compassion for the multitude

The work the team put in to see the patients was incredible. We only had tents to work under, which did little to keep the dust and wind at bay, but somehow we all powered through. The medical team worked like a machine. I have to give props to their leader, Kaeli Fletcher, and the entire administrative team Stateside, who worked so hard to bring such quality people to serve in Malawi. Yes, this is a week I will never forget.

The same sting

By the end of the outreach, more than 6,000 patients had been seen, and over 2,500 had made decisions to follow Jesus. As I sit here on my verandah thinking about last week, I feel the same tears stinging the backs of my eyes that I felt all those years ago when I first fed children in Burundi and started on my journey of hope. What I saw in Malawi last week perfectly encapsulates the words of Matthew 15:

By Thursday and into Friday, as we wound up the outreach, Mtsiliza was lit. People were saying, “This has been the work of God.” Hearing this makes me want to go through it all again. Why? So that more can hear about God and how wonderful He is. I have often wondered when going through the many hopeless moments we face, if it is worth it. This past week has reminded me again that yes, it is well worth it. There will be one whose life was changed.

The journey never ends

I landed back in South Africa last Saturday, tired but satisfied. We were satisfied that we had done our best and anticipated continuing this never-ending journey of hope. It’s taken about a week to recover and get back into our abnormally normal routine of planning and outreach. Yesterday, we had an audio meeting with our leaders in various nations. We spent time encouraging them as they journeyed to believe in God for the impossible. It can happen if we just believe.