Every Child Needs Some Love and Care

While establishing our vision statement to explain why we do what we do, this was what seemed to encapsulate it all:

  Because we believe that EVERY child should have access to the BASIC necessities of life; LOVE, CARE, FOOD, CLEAN WATER and FAMILY.

Recently we joined a movement that is giving us the opportunity to live that out and I write this blog to explain why WE decided to get involved.  That movement is called Love and Care for His Little Ones and it is "a team of volunteers with a passionate heart to serve orphans and vulnerable kids." LOVE and CARE...the first two components of our vision statement. It seems silly NOT to get involved right??!

"We were all created to be recipients of Love" 

Sam Chapman - Indigenous NZ development expert

As I stared across a sea of faces ready to begin a day of festivities, I saw children; big and small, with hearts that were hungry to receive that LOVE that they were created for.  If there is ever an instance of entitlement that a child deserves, it is this one- to receive love.  And actually if there is ever a gift we are expected to give, it is ALSO this one - 

Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to LOVE one another, for whoever LOVES others has fulfilled the law. 
Romans 13:8

For with IT, partnered with a caring environment a child can develop and thrive and BECOME all that God has created them to BE. Love is SO important, for without it our hearts are left void of their most necessary component for growth. 

In seeing their faces I knew that their hunger to BE loved existed because of their lack of receiving it.  These children at some stage in their lives had been orphaned or abandoned. This is what qualified them to be here on this cold Saturday morning on the outskirts of Addis Ababa.  This event had been planned, prayed for, and implemented because there were a group of people who wanted to GIVE them the basic necessities of life- LOVE, CARE, FOOD, CLEAN WATER and an EXTENDED FAMILY. This is why WE were here. Because we joined a movement that exists to meet this need for Love and Care for His Little Ones.  

Rahel Asheber and Dawit Getachew (pictured above) are the ones who are leading this movement with an amazing team of young volunteers- students, graduates, young professionals and youth workers; people gifted to serve in so many ways to make this movement the success it has been for the last four years.  

We heard about this program because Dawit is an award winning Gospel Artist whose music has broken tradition in Ethiopia and connects young and old with the heart of God.  After finding out about his amazing music, we found out about his heart for orphans.  He in fact was present at a conference I attended in 2012 and blogged about.  It was around this same time, they started to gather young people to attend orphanages on a weekly basis to help support the children educationally, socially and emotionally. What they started is so PROFOUND.

Dawit shared a story over the weekend, as they were motivating the newly formed Hawassa team, to go and connect with the kids in the orphanages to build relationships with them.  The story was about a visit they made to an orphanage in Addis Ababa where they were going around and asking the kids what they wanted to be when they grew up.  Typical replies were vocalized- "I want to be a doctor" says one child, "I want to be a teacher" says another and more shared their desires for careers and jobs.  Then they came to one child whose response was "I want to be a ferenji." So they asked him "Why?" He said because life seems so much easier for ferenjis (foreigners).  It's easy he said for them to find work, to get money, to study and have a good life. Sadly he wasn't offered role models that could show him otherwise until Love and Care showed up. 

After discovering that most visitors to the majority of orphan centers in Addis Ababa are short term foreigners who come for a small trip and leave again, they knew that something had to change. What young Ethiopian volunteers have to offer is so much more valuable- they speak the same language, they are consistently in the area, they are young people who can inspire as these children relate to them, and they genuinely have a heart to love and care for children who don't have the parental love they need. 

Not only do they have teams all around Addis Ababa going into centers every Saturday morning, they also hold these events three times a year on special holidays.  At each event there are fun activities for the kids to participate in that they would have NEVER otherwise had the opportunity to be a part of! They have an awesome time of worship and story telling and then they feed them and give them a gift to take home.  This year that gift was a towel for each child as some children within the orphanages didn't have any at all. 

What Love and Care for His Little Ones are doing is motivated by their desire to do FOR these children what God has done for them- He has called them out of the darkness and into His wonderful light (1 Pet 2:9), He has shown them Love and Grace, been a Father and a Provider, so in turn they are doing the same for Him... 

Donate towards this New Years Carnival by clicking Go Fund Me Page 

850 children from 22 Centers, 

over 2 cities and 2 weeks 

made up what was the 

LOVE and CARE Easter Carnivals!
You can LIKE their Facebook Page
And YOU can ALSO join the movement- Stay in touch to see when you can donate to the festivities or sign up to volunteer if you live in Addis!


Also if you want to check out Dawit's music, you can listen to one our faves by buying his instrumental Jazz style album on itunes here, or you can check out his YouTube Channel!

Be blessed!

When Empathizing turns into Empowering

"It wont stop, it wont stop" His German accent proclaimed as the beggars kept coming as a response to the birr they saw us handing out. So we closed the door and he drove off. He was right though and I know it too well. Once you start to give away free money (and by free I mean unearned, undeserved) the cycle never stops. Our general rule is actually NOT to give to street beggars unless there is a specific Supernatural leading to do so. We don't want to create dependancy or create an expectation or entitlement every time they see us or people who look like us. He doesn't want to either.

He, as referred to above,is Tobi and while he helps Ethiopians set up small businesses to create sustainable income for themselves in rural and urban areas around the country, his wife and he also realize the importance of creating employment opportunities for vulnerable women.

Women such as the growing single mother population, young women trying to put themselves through College/University, women coming off the street and women just like the ones who were on the street with their children begging that night.

These women caught the heart of this couple and especially 28 year old, Samira- the more eloquent and passionate of the two.  She recently graduated with a Bachelors Degree in Gender and Development studies which was a result of her desire to advocate for Women's Rights in Ethiopia. She has been a spokesperson on Female Genital Mutilation and focused her research on this subject. She tells me of regions where they have an incidence rate of 90-100% of girls being circumcised. She's a photographer, model and fashion expert but her main passion is to help young women reach their greatest potential.

Samira has just given birth four months ago to their first baby girl.  She carried this baby while planning the business, decorating the cafe and buying the necessary equipment with the small capital funding they invested.  After returning from birthing the baby in Germany she's hit the ground running opening, as a solution to empowering women, Temsalet Kitchen.

Temsalet means "Exemplary" and its name encompasses the vision she has for this extraordinary restaurant.
Rather than establishing an NGO in Addis to support women, they're partnering with local NGOs and helping them fill a gap that so often exposes itself; the unemployment gap.

First of all they are hiring experienced women who can be role models and teachers to younger or less experienced women who just need someone to believe in them. Here these at risk women are nurtured in a safe environment and are gaining work experience and life skills as well as having the flexibility they need to balance work and family. Its not an easy task arranging all of this but Samira is carried along by her vision and by the many family and friends she has supporting her.

Recently I was able to join in this amazing project by assisting in the development and execution of the European menu. Alongside their amazing Ethiopian cultural menu, Temsalet is filling another gap in Addis Ababa- delicious and healthy food. The atmosphere Samira and her designer friends have created within the restaurant incites any passer by to come in. Situated in a happening part of Addis (Ethiopia's capital and the political capital of Africa) right near the African Union headquarters and many Embassy bases, Temsalet is destined for great things! Already it is showing signs of success as more and more hungry people gather to share in the vision and in turn make a way for women to be empowered and mentored to fulfill their fullest potential. Like Tobi says, the customers not only come to feed their stomachs but to feed their conscience.

Temsalet Kitchen:  

Where Quality, Relationship and Empowerment fuse for one purpose: 

To be Exemplary

If you're in Addis, come and visit! Like us on Facebook

The Hands that God uses..

The room was silent as people gathered to worship and praise God on this sunny Addis Ababa Sunday morning.  Unlike the church gathering that was happening outside in the main building where speakers were being set up with intercoms into the wide open spaces outside the auditorium, this gathering required no such projection of sound.  The people who were gathering in this room were people who had no capacity to hear, mostly no function to speak yet had hearts to communicate and participate in the very same message that was being purveyed in the room next door.

As they gathered, silence filled the room. Arms swayed and fingers so limber, oscillated back and forth as communication transpired between souls.  A stillness came as everyone knew the time to begin the service was approaching and my heart sighed “Oh Lord, how we need this quietness in our lives.” How much better off are these that can’t hear an external noise so that they can hear an internal voice, know your presence and find contentment in silence.

The silence spoke loudly to my noisy soul. 

There was such a beautiful exchange of language as body movements and eye contact necessitated an exchange of deepness. I was floored.  Messed up as the flood gates of my tear ducts opened.  Thankful for what I did have and jealous of what they did. Another revelation came to me as we sat as a family and a team and observed this service for almost two hours. 

Just as hands can be used when mouths and ears aren’t functioning as they should, so God will use whatever instruments are available to get His message across.  In fact, His Grace causes unsuspecting instruments to be fit for use in extraordinary ways.  When original default settings for functions dysfunction, God will change the default setting. 

We see in the Bible and in history, God using people who society would reject as useful.  We see different parts of the body being used for functions they weren’t created for.  We see a prostituted woman on the walls of Jericho make a way for the Israelites to overtake the land; we see an orphan girl and her Uncle Mordecai save their people from a position of power; then there were those fishermen who Jesus called out of their lifestyle to be his followers and establishers of the first church.  God’s grace causes unsuspecting instruments to be fit for use in extraordinary ways.

Jesus fully offended people by associating with, eating with, hanging out with people society and the religious crowd, rejected.  He still continues to confuse and offend with the people He chooses to speak through, love through, build His Kingdom through. His treasure stores in jars of clay. 

Clay Thick heavy soil that is soft when wet but molded and shaped, placed through the fire to reinforce it’s shape yet still so vulnerable to breakage when pressure comes. That’s us. Does it make us useless? Heck no! It just means that we are those unsuspecting instruments fit for use in extraordinary ways.

Like sign language is so different to spoken word, so our expressions, our language per se, can also be different to what people may expect.  But God sees our uniqueness and He embraces it. He sees the beauty in the language we speak and love that we portray on His behalf.  Be satisfied with who you are and the message you portray with the voice God has given you. 

You ARE His message- not just His messenger. Your life speaks volumes. My life does too. Live it WELL!

A Mother's Loss: My Somber Christmas Blog

Last night, I was disturbed by a dream that left me searching for my son.  I had sent him off somewhere not knowing exactly where he was going and two days later I realized he wasn’t coming back so I searched for him relentlessly, afraid that I may have lost him forever.  I asked family and friends if they had seen him, which left them accusatory to say the least at my lack of responsibility in protecting this ten year old boy’s safety. The ten year old boy I love the most in the entire world.

 I questioned my own sanity in letting him go by himself and not having any way of contacting him. I felt like he had gone into an abyss that we could never get him back from. My dream turned into a nightmare.  Thankfully though, I woke to find that this was not at all true and that my son was indeed still laying upstairs safely in his bed.  Relief.

 Not so for another mother we encountered this week though;  Not so for yet another one we have met in these last five months and again not even for another mother we are reflecting on this season.  Let me tell you about these three mothers:

1.       We have just moved into a new place in the west south corner of Addis Ababa. The suburb is developing fast and many foreigners as well as Ethiopian people are moving into this area, showing promise for business owners and landlords who have built homes in the area anticipating that this would happen.  The area also leads onto the new highway that runs south to places like Debre Zeit (our old home city), Nazaret and Awash National Park.

There is a bustling supermarket and business building that is frequented by many middle class and well-to-do customers. Knowing this, many beggars stand stationed outside with their children, trying to make the most of the opportunities that will avail them.

Unfortunately though, as we found out, these children are being put at risk as they follow people across the busy street chasing that coin, that birr, that piece of bread…which is so much less than they ACTUALLY need.  My heart broke as we encountered the enormity again of the need here and our insufficiency to meet the needs.

Thursday came and Asaua and I went to do our shopping with our friend in her car to this particular supermarket which seems to be the closest thing to our western supermarket experiences (bar the security checks at the door and the potential power outages).  I had forgotten the wallet on the first trip so a couple of hours later, Asaua had to make a second trip to pay for and collect the food.  As he was getting ready to pay and leave, the driver came in to warn him that there had been an accident outside.  One of the beggar boys had been hit by a passing vehicle and he lay dead in his mother’s grieving arms.  People surrounded them to pass blame on this mother for allowing her son to be out begging with her while she wailed; Asaua catching a glimpse of his limping legs still lying on the road that claimed his life. Cars came to a halt to bypass the boy who needed bypassing just a few minutes earlier.  A life not yet lived, was taken away and a mother lost her son in one Thursday afternoon excursion. The loss of that mother rang wild in my soul as Asaua reported what had happened on his return. Oh, Lord Jesus, you know the pain that grieved her heart.

2.        Five months ago as we prepared to leave Ethiopia, a lovely lady had been put in contact with me as a potential partner with the work that we are involved with.  As it turned out, she ended up being the answer to our prayer for accommodation in Sydney as we prepared to stay near my sister’s house in the “Hills District” of this huge city.  She lived only six kilometres away from where my mum and sister’s family were living.

As we entered into her home, we heard this mother’s loss of her dear son.  Nine years earlier, her son had left his home country with his wife to be missionaries in Ethiopia. After he had arrived, our host (his mother) had visited him and they had a good time together exploring the country he had then made his home.   After her return to Australia, a few months down the track, she was alerted to the fact that her son was in a fatal fall during a rainy night excursion out onto the roof of a building that needed some maintenance.

As we heard her story, we sensed her pain and empathized with the loss this family had experienced as the result of his obedience to God’s call on his life to go to Ethiopia. It doesn’t make sense yet we have heard it time and time again. Mother’s losing children on the mission field. What pain they must endure to not have to just say goodbye once, but to say goodbye till eternity they meet.  A mother’s loss of a son surfacing in an ocean of pain.  Grief unbearable without the strength of One who carries heavy burdens.

3.       The third woman that comes to mind is the one to whom we see around us in Nativity scenes and on Christmas Cards this season.  Two thousand plus years ago, she was chosen to give birth to the Messiah. “The One who was and is and is to come.” He was to be conceived of the Holy Spirit in HER womb and to be raised in her home under the love of her arms only to then be given over to a horrendous death in which she would be witness to.  He was to be the propitiation for our sins.  Yet she took on the challenge and trusted God with her son.  She surrendered her body, her life, her grief to the One who had seen the beginning from the end.  

I wonder if she sensed the loss from the beginning, forming attachments with her beloved son – a son who did not sin! A son who did no wrong and could not have caused her harm if he had tried; her love for him would have been untainted by hurt or pain.  Yet she awaited the time when what the world would do to him would bring the greatest hurt and pain a mother could endure.  Yet she loved and protected him, chasing him down also when he seemed to go missing yet was about his Father’s business. You can read about that story in Luke 2:41-52

Though this wasn't the greatest loss this mother was to experience, it was the taste of what was yet to come. In the event of her greatest loss, Jesus comforted her and gave her a "replacement" son, John. She then got to know the joy of His Resurrection before anyone else did as she met him outside his tomb.  This is the hope that we have. The story does not finish at her loss, but rather in her regaining her Son in His Resurrection moment. This too we can partake in as we receive Eternal Life thought the very act Mary lived to grieve. Do you know that Eternal Hope? It is yours for the taking.  

In this season where the focus is on a Son, know that it encompasses the awaiting loss, an expected grief and that in that grief, He is not unaware of yours.  

He truly came to bring...

JOY TO THE WORLD!

Looking beyond the surface, to the reason why. 3 contributing factors that influence women entering into prostitution in Ethiopia

Over ten years ago I read "Redeeming Love" by Francine Rivers. It was the first novel I had read since High school and it captured me like no book ever had. Rivers retells the story of Hosea (a prophet in pre-Christ times) who was commanded by God to marry a prostitute in an effort to send a message to the Israelites about the idolatrous /adulterous lives they were leading. Hosea's life was about to be immersed in an illustrative purpose that was about to shake the world as it was known at that time.

The beauty of Francine Rivers' portrayal was that she set her version of the story in the mid 1800's and she started to retell the story from the childhood of the wife. What she invokes in doing so is empathy and compassion towards the woman who would on multiple occasions run away from her husband back to the lifestyle of a harlot. She reveals potential contributing factors that could have caused this runaway wife to betray her husband on multiple occasions.

Tonight we attended Hillsong church in Sydney Australia. It was a dream come true to be in this House of God that is now a House with many rooms all around the world. Currently they are doing a series called "Sunday night live" which brings the message in creative ways. His message tonight was about our judgments of people at the first few milliseconds and "our being the poorer for it" when we don't choose to dig deeper: To conversate and investigate and seek to go past the initial contact to understanding the person who is presented before us.

He took us to the story of the Good Samaritan and the question that was posed by the righteous religious leader about "who is my neighbor?" It turned out the neighbor was the Samaritan. The ones who were the outcasts to the man who questioned. But the question that he posed tonight is "who am I in that story?" Well perhaps I am the man who was beaten down and this "neighbor" who has come to help is the one I least expected. And then the Bible says that we should "love your neighbor as yourself."

The preacher went on to expound on that thought by challenging us to read that command as "love your neighbor as if they were yourself." That we are all a part of humanity and we are all created equally so we should love even the least expected as ourselves.

When I think about the story told of Hoseas wife in Redeeming Love, I think about how the author was invoking us to do just that. She was trying to portray the humanity of the woman and perhaps give us a deeper understanding of why she was the way she was. She was the product of an affair, a victim of abuse. She was a girl who never knew the love of a man in a healthy way.

When spotting a prostituted woman on the side of the road in Addis Ababa or Bahir Dar or even on the street of Zion Church in Debre Zeit, one could make an immediate assumption about why that woman is there. More likely than not, the religious at heart, like the man Jesus was sharing the story of the good Samaritan with; would assume she was there by choice and that she enjoyed the work that she did. These assumptions put a price tag on her that is set perhaps for the rest of her life.

But the reality is that every single one of us has a story. And every single woman who chooses to sell her body to get some kind of income has a story too. Maybe the income is not even hers, maybe it is hers but she receives it with resentment.


 Resentment at the fact that she just sold her dignity for one measly dollar.
In the context of Ethiopia, over the last few years I have encountered these stories, there is a similar thread that runs through the fabric that binds these women together.

From my experience there are many contributing factors to women ending up on the street. Some of them include coming from a history of sexual abuse, being orphaned at a young age, or coming from a fatherless family. These factors I am highlighting today are specific to the Ethiopian context and are the most likely contributors to why a woman would find herself in prostitution in Ethiopia:

1. Domestic trafficking.

Early on in our time in Ethiopia I noticed young girls living with other families, being used by them to help with domestic chores, run stores, or look after the baby in the family while the parents went to work. These girls were noticeably not part of the family- not dressed as well as the family kids, nor going to school like them or at least not to a school as good as them. They would often not have good language levels as their mother tongue was not the national language and they seemed to be ignorant of most city life skills. Their sole purpose was to fulfill duties that were assigned to them. For free! They would be living with the family for free but not always under great conditions. They definitely wouldn't be getting their fair share of wages. When I would ask about a girl's family and where she came from the story would always be the same- she came from a rural area, her family couldn't support her so she was brought to the city by the host family. Sometimes the host family were relatives and the attraction of life in the city, with schooling and good housing seem like the best option for this impoverished rural dweller.  From my observations and from the stories I have heard from our ladies, those promises are seldom delivered; leaving the young girl nothing but a commodity to be exchanged in the fields of rural Ethiopia. Domestic trafficking is a subtle part of Ethiopian culture that is unfortunately corroding its beautiful nature. While often done with good intentions on both parties, the long term results are detrimental to that young girls capacity to ever having a fulfilling adult life. Her education is limited and her self worth has dissipated with the mere nature of her position in the family so she will be a prime target for those looking for workers in the sex industry. And sad to say, that is where she will most likely end up.



2. Child Marriages.


Another contributing factor that is specific to Ethiopia and a result of an unhealthy cultural practice is the child bride who mothers a child and is then abandoned by her husband. This, oh too common scenario is specific to certain regions up North but it brings women down into Addis Ababa and Debre Zeit as they try to go where they can have anonymity and a fresh start. Without any kind of welfare system or financial support available, the only choice a pregnant mother has to feed herself and her baby is to find work! Yet the fact that she has been married at a young age and that has inhibited her opportunities for education, leaves her with limited choices for work. Which brings me to the next point...

3. Lack of job opportunities.


Ellilta Women at Risk was initiated as a response to Serawit (aka Cherry) driving along the road in Addis Ababa (as a graduated young woman who had been unemployed for a year) with her family when someone made a comment about a street worker on the side of the road. Like those of us who make those assumptions about these women as mentioned above (and I have to admit that I too have made them), he said something to the effect of "why doesn't SHE just go and get a REAL job?" Cherry sitting in the car at that time knew the harsh reality of what the job market was like for an EDUCATED woman and couldn't imagine what it would be like for someone who hadn't been given that privilege of education. She saw that she needed to love her neighbor, as if she were herself and thus Women at Risk was formed.  Still today job opportunities are limited and scarce and even educated people with years of experience are finding it hard to find jobs that will pay enough to support their family. What about a WOMAN with no family support, no EDUCATION and no WELFARE system. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Ellilta Women at Risk work to support women to leave Commercial sex work and help them to set up their own income generating activities or they employ them with Ellilta Products. You can help be the alternative solution that will allow these women know their fullest potential as they seek to support their families with the work of their hands. You can do so at Ellilta.org/donate if you're in the US or you can donate on our donate tab and leave a note about how you would like to support. You can be the light that we get to carry into these dark places..

Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you. See, darkness covers the earth and thick darkness is over the peoples, but the Lord rises upon you and His glory appears over you. Isaiah 60:1-2

The god of Plan B

A quiet observation I have made since coming back to Australia and New Zealand is that having a "Plan B" is a big part of our culture. It's often a part of how we plan as we take into consideration the potential failure of plan A (ie. The ideal scenario).  As we think about risk factors, we "risk manage" around our plan and we set ourselves up a safety net as such. We like to call it plan "B". B for "better not get too confident in plan A because it might not happen."  People around us compound our fear of failure and confidently elude to the fact that what we have set out to achieve is far beyond our reach and should therefore be prepared for "if all else fails". Another common terminology in our lingo.

I'm not talking about the little Plan Bs... The wet weather plan or the "if so and so doesn't show up we will go somewhere else" I'm talking about your plan Bs for the big things in life- the defining moments, or the major life decisions...the ones you know God has endorsed Himself by a spiritual journey He has taken you on to achieve.  So the "Plan B" I am referring to is more like "if God doesn't show up, we will do something else!"  Plan B is what we save up for, store up for, buy up for. It's the thing we have to fall back on "just in case" what we originally set out to do doesn't fall into place. It's what we think about when we're not where we're going and we're not where we've been.

Lately I've learnt that this is a space called "Liminal Space".

 "It [liminal space] is the intermediate, in-between transitional state where you can not go back to where you were because a threshold has been crossed and you have yet to arrive where you are going because it is not yet available to you. Essentially it is the hallway between the past and the future. I can tell you quite candidly, it's hell in the hallway." Bishop Mark Chironna in Leadership Pain by Samuel Chand

It's actually in that liminal space that we forge our plan B's.  When we can't handle the heat of the unknown, we make plans to take the "Fire Exit" and we fall short of finding out what lies behind the doors ahead.  We see companies market their products and services based on this mentality. They develop their advertising to further corroborate this ideal that has become a cultural norm.  It's what insurance is set up for, it's why investment companies are able to function on the basis of fear, it's the reason why we all saved up water and nonperishable foods in the year 1999 in case the world stopped functioning when the clock struck midnight on December 31st. 

In our own journey we have been challenged about our plan B. What happens if this doesn't happen. If Ethiopia doesn't happen? If the money doesn't come through or the donors don't give. There are definitely risk factors going into mission in Ethiopia. Most of the time we don't know how we will fund our trips, our living, our various aspects associated with living far from the normal conveniences of Western life. We aren't always certain visas will be approved, children will get into school, that we will cope through separations. We could build up safety nets. We could also let these calculated risks feed the fear and anxiety that's wanting to grow to a point where it will stand in the way of us going with plan A-God's plan.

The god of plan B is often that thing that draws us away from having an unwavering faith in the God who does fulfill what He has promised. The One who King Solomon wrote about when he said "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean NOT on your own understanding." Proverbs 3:5  

Your own understanding lies behind your desire to set up a safety net, your fire escape, your plan B.

Your own understanding is the god that you could place above the One who has it all under control in the first place- who has a perspective on life that you don't have and who promises to do what He said He will do.  

That god of our own understanding is what caused even Abraham, the "father of faith" to convince himself that sleeping with his maidservant would be a good plan JUST IN CASE God didn't come through. Previously he had been full of faith but in the waiting his, and the faith of his wife, began to dwindle. We read about it in Genesis 16:

Now Sarai, Abram’s wife, had borne him no children. But she had an Egyptian slave named Hagar; so she said to Abram, “The Lord has kept me from having children. Go, sleep with my slave; perhaps I can build a family through her.”

Abram agreed to what Sarai said. So after Abram had been living in Canaan ten years, Sarai his wife took her Egyptian slave Hagar and gave her to her husband to be his wife. He slept with Hagar, and she conceived.

We read these verses and we think "What was he thinking?!" Abraham (or Abram as he was still called here) was trying to fulfill God's promise to him, BY HIMSELF! The god of the plan B really is ourselves. It's our own flesh that gets in the way of what God is already planning to do. 

The god of plan B is ME..

It's YOU..

It's US.


The thing is that He will do it in His time and in His way and we just have to wait. Albeit Abraham was already old when he received the promise and ten years had already passed. Not many of us would have even lasted that long- not many of us CAN last that long.  I know I have struggled in the waiting. I haven't waited well but I am learning to stand in faith and trust God to come through when He is ready. I believe He can and He WILL in His time.

The thing is we don't need to always have a plan B.  Though God's plan will always be bigger than what we can achieve, that's what makes it all the more worth waiting for, believing for and dreaming for. If God has said it will be done, it will be done. We don't always see how it will be done, but He does. Trust Him. Have Hope. It's coming!

For still the vision awaits its appointed time;

    it hastens to the end—it will not lie.

If it seems slow, wait for it;

    it will surely come; it will not delay. 

Habbakuk 2:3

Reflections from Samoa: A tribute to my Nana.

I have fond memories of my grandmother (or Nana as we would affectionately call her). Memories of her catching a bus to Auckland's North Shore where I was brought up, from her home in Mangere South Auckland where her and my grandfather lived. She would often catch a bus all the way to our house to babysit when my mum had to work or just to pay a visit. I don't remember my dad around much when my Nana came so it could have been that she came when dad was sick in hospital to support my mother looking after us. It always excited me when I would see her face appear into view. I knew she would come with treats for her grandkids (at that time maybe only two or three of us grand daughters that belonged to her fifth child, Iva).

I remember so clearly a time when she had come when I must have been less than five. Mum had gone off to work and I asked where the "Minties" were and was left feeling so disappointed when she said she didn't have any. Not long after she said she was joking but she would only hand over the lolly if we would brush our teeth! The teeth brushing was preceded by a hot bath that she took great pleasure in washing us little ones with her Samoan scrub (the Pulu) that felt like a pot scrub on my delicate skin.

Other times Nana would meet us in the city as coming across the bridge would mean another bus to catch and maybe another fare to pay. She would either take us to McDonalds on K'road or she would meet us down at the fountain on the bottom of Queen St in the heart of Auckland's downtown. These were exciting journeys for us as we didn't get to go into the city much. I remember hiding under her arm as she would protect me from strangers who had been drinking into the middle of the day.

As I grew up and we returned from our three year stint in Melbourne, Australia, Nana's visits became more like  lessons to indirectly teach me about Samoan culture. Lessons like, when someone comes around to visit you offer them a cup of tea. And when you give them that tea with some biscuit or a rock cake (which Nana seemed to love), don't be surprised if the whole pastry ends up in the cup of tea before they drink it.

Also when visitors come over, make sure you give them all a kiss when they arrive and then again when they leave. If they are all sitting around talking, then you aren't allowed to stand up as that would be considered rude. So even if all the chairs were taken, make yourself comfortable on the floor but don't forget to cross your legs and make sure you're decently dressed to do so.

Anuilagi Perese, our late Grandmother in her late 30s or early 40s

For an afakasi brought up on the North Shore in a home that was neither reflective of my father's Greek heritage nor my mother's Samoan culture but more so of the fact that they were both third culture kids and we had adopted the culture of the community we lived in which was New Zealand European- I desperately needed these lessons to come from someone who loved me as much as my nana did. These were lessons most Samoan children learnt from the time they were born-even if they were born in New Zealand.


Nana patiently allowed us to serve her as mum taught us how to prepare a bowl with hot soapy water and a towel to clean their hands at the dining table after they had eaten.
Later in life she patiently put up with us as we slowly led her to the toilet after not understanding what she was saying  as Alzheimers forced her to revert to her mother tongue.  It was then that we were able to see her strong willed nature while she endured the frustration of having to depend on the physical and mental assistance of her family and then eventually the nursing homes as her physical demands increased beyond the capacity of her children.



It was a late January afternoon in 1995 when Nana finally "gave up the ghost" on the living room floor of her eldest daughter, my Aunty Paulava. For some reason, the night before, I had a strong desire to go and visit my nana after a days work at my then job, McDonalds. We knew Nanas days were short and I wanted to spend as much time with her as possible so I did what she had done so many times for us- I caught the bus to her house to be by her side.

The next day I stayed by her bed and she had visitors coming to see her and pray for her. She eventually started to cough as I and my Aunty and cousin gripped her hands and body until it became an empty shell. A picture of beauty and strength and a life well lived and lived to serve others.

As we passed the port of Apia today I recorded its beauty, unconsciously aware of its significance.  Now as I lay in the hilltops of Upolu, the island my Nana came from, I am kept awake by this revelation:

Driving past the port in Apia

About fifty four years ago, my nana and grandpa and their seven children departed from the shores of Samoa, from this very port in Apia to embark on their new journey in New Zealand. It was a privilege my Nana had fought for- sailing many times on her own to Fiji to catch a plane into Whenuapai , Auckland to claim her right for New Zealand naturalization that was granted to her because she was a child of her father's. The New Zealand government had given him and his offspring this right in return for a service he had done for them.
 She set off from the shores of this small island into the great ocean waters, knowing what she was entitled to. Though she was rejected by the authorities that were in place at that time, she kept fighting for it so that she could give her children a better life. She risked life and limb to leave her country of birth, to go and get what only she could get (because it was her and not her husband that was entitled to it). Yet it was to be her husband and her children and her children's children who would benefit from it. What an amazing woman.

This island that took us almost four hours to get to by plane just a couple of days ago, would have taken her a world of courage and a heart of faith to leave. She would have travelled by the only means possible at that time, a boat that would have taken her three days to get to Fiji then a plane. Leaving her children confused and bewildered as to where their mother had gone, she knew that the price she was paying would be far outweighed once her children were living on New Zealand soil. She sacrificed so that others could receive. Not only did she do it for her own children but she also adopted so that others could have the new life they wanted in Niu Sila.

In some ways, I see my life as a mirror of my Nana's. Someone once said, "we stand on the shoulders of giants". This is the inheritance my Nana has left not just for me but for the many she left behind. A spiritual legacy that she paved the way for her daughters and grand daughters and great grand daughters to dare to walk upon. Just as her earthly father had given her an entitlement to a new land, so my heavenly Father has given me the right to a mission field.  As her grand daughter and as His daughter I was able to cross greater seas by myself six years ago in search of this land our family could dwell in. Coming from a cultural norm that exists where the man gets the call first and goes out, I knew from a young age that this call was for me and my family. It took a strong man to let me go and explore this corner of the earth, knowing he too had a place in it but not having the history I did that enabled me to go with this assurance that we had the mandate TO go to this strange land. I can, because she did and because He empowered me to. I not only walk in the way of her path or stand on the shoulders of her great courage, I get to sit in the future of her faithful decisions. What a privilege that would not do her justice if I were to forgo it. My nana, born Methodist and married into Catholicism. A grand daughter of missionaries to Papua New Guinea and a Catholic Catechist who traveled Samoa to spread the good news, I honor you today from your homeland.

Anuilagi Vaotuua (nee Perese).

About a third of our grandparents' descendants gathering for the Vaotuua family reunion in Savai'i, Western Samoa
Uli and Anuilagi Vaotuua had 7 children after birthing 12 who left with them from Samoa and have had one pass (Faiga) since their passing. Four of those families are represented here.