The Body of Christ and the Hair of Heidi

Isn’t it incredible how a day can start out great, become awful, and then end up being one of the best days? That was Saturday for me. Started out pretty normal with my bucket bath and reading my Bible, but because of some miscommunications and differences in communicating style I got really frustrated. Normally Saturday mornings we have a team meeting with the five of us Journeyers who live in Korhogo. But I had forgotten that I said was going to a funeral with my family. My family could tell that I wanted to go to my team meeting so my host dad told me to go to my meeting and he would take me to the funeral in the afternoon. I was just feeling drained, frustrated and angry still during the meeting. I prayed that God would somehow fill me enough to make it through the funeral. It is tiring to always be different, and the fact that I am white is especially apparent in the village.

So at about three in the afternoon my papa and I take off for the village. Along the road he stops to buy some peanuts for us to eat and I realize that this is the first time I have ever hung out with my papa. Once we got off the main road, he stopped the moto and asked me if I wanted to drive since there were no cars. So I move up front and he jumps on behind me. He holds the handles with me…the whole time. But I didn’t mind that, it was just the sweetest moment, and I thanked God for answering my prayer from the morning. It refilled me and reminded me why I am here. It also reminded me of when my mom was teaching me to drive and insisted on sitting in the driver’s seat with me while she tried to hold the door closed. Miss you, mom!

So if you don’t already know it, I would like to introduce you to the body of Christ. I realized that the fact that my feelings get hurt and I get angry means that I am engaged here. Saturday I experienced the frustration of being a part of the body of Christ but also the beauty of it. The body of Christ is no machine, it surprises you. It endures horrible pains, but can be a thing of wonder, joy and love. My papa isn’t my real dad but we are related by blood, the blood of Christ. And the blood of Christ covers a multitude of things, one of them being cultural differences and color of skin.

Oh and I got my hair braided again...haha.