Letting go

Our blog for Sababu has been down for some time.  Many know the situation in Mali.  The government was overthrown.  Borders were open and closed, riots and curfews followed.  Life was unpredictable.  And so was business.  Sababu Manufacturing Company was already going the some of the trials many new business face.  This put things over the edge and we made the decision to shut the doors.  Harder decisions followed.  People criticized the choices we made, how we handled affairs.  We were guided by our limited knowledge, our friends both Malian and American, and then most importantly, by God. 

We pry didn't do everything perfect.  I'm sure mistakes were made.  People were upset.  You always hear from those who are upset.  I see that in nursing all the time.  We seem to hear from those who want to complain about everything, then don't get to spend as much time with the patients who are the most thankful and sometimes have the most needs, just don't voice them.  Same with business and customer service.  We tried and failed.  We wiped out our savings and had nothing left to give.  We came back to the US with little and still tried to pay as much as we could.  I do understand that in a poverty stricken country our "little" is a lot for them.  But I'm not going to go into finances...all I know is things have been a lot harder than expected.  My heart has been angry and hurt in ways I didn't expect.  But I'm seeing God try to heal that too. And He has taken care of us and blessed us in so many ways since we've been back.

I was reading a blog called Kisses from Kate.  This girl is such an inspiration to me on what it truly means to live for Jesus. I choke up thinking of it. Anyway, this blog is about someones life that she had the opportunity to be a part of.  She shared in her living and passing away and we see Kates struggle with God allowing it to end and letting her think her was going to make it.




Here was her response:

"Some time last week in the too-early hours of the morning, I asked God why He allowed me to believe so strongly that Katherine would live when she wasn’t actually going to. I can usually get a pretty good sense for those things. It is hard for me to think that My Father saw me in my hope, He knew I was believing, and He simultaneously knew the ending. I think He answered that He gave me the grace to believe that she would live so that in her final days she would feel hope and high spirits all around her, so that she would feel that she was fought for and that she was worth the fight. She was worth it."

www.kissesfromkatie.blogspot.com


It made me think of Sababu. God knew the ending of the story. But you know, the people were worth it. Worth the hurts, the heartaches, the disappointment in the business itself. They might not completely get it. but HE does. I'm thankful for that journey. I'm praying that Dusty and I allow both the joys and the pains of it shape us and draw us closer to Him.

I know that many see Sababu as a failure.  And they see us as people with a nice idea but it didn't pan out.  Many pry have rationale why it didn't work out - we didn't go through the correct protocol - language study in France, Bambara study in Mali, live in Mali for 4-8 years, etc. etc.  We felt judged throughout the journey - when we got there, while we were there - by missionaries, Malians, and by people living in the US.  We had people stop supporting us because they said we lived in too nice of a house.  (Yet our house was what the Malians told us we had to live in if we wanted to be taken serious as business folk).  We let go of our hurts and pushed forward.  In the end we found beautiful friendships and relationships.  I pray that even though we couldn't provide long term jobs for Malians, that they were able to experience love, hope and grace for the time they worked for us.  That they were able to grow in skills to use for future employment.  That they benefited from the clinic we ran and education I provided to the workers and families about Malaria and diarrhea.  But in the end it doesn't matter what they think.  It doesn't matter what other missionaries thought.  It doesn't even matter what I think.  It matters what God thinks.  It matters that we obeyed the calling. 

So part of my healing process is letting go of the past hurts.  Letting go of those doubting comments we heard while there.  Even maybe the I told you so's once we got back.  Letting go of the precious girl we tried to adopt in Mali but the door closed. 

I miss Mali.  My heart is heavy as I write this.  The people, the culture is one that cannot be explained but must be experienced.  I'm thankful for the experience.  I'm thankful for the hurts.  It has made me run to Him.