BURKINA FASOAN UPDATE FROM ASHLEY

"Faithful to the end, He will finish what He started."

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This is the phrase that has been a constant theme for me since I agreed to lead this team to Burkina Faso. The last few months have been anything but conventional, so a conventional newsletter or update just wouldn't do. I wanted to find a way to connect all of you with what I experienced during my time in Burkina, the incredible people that we got to know and the events that shaped our ministry there. I hope you enjoy.

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MaduWhen we first rolled up to the

house that we would be calling home for the duration of outreach, Madu was there. Unlike the other children, who ran to the car and greeted us, she stared with inquiring eyes as she perched on the lit tle lip attached to the gate of our house.

Over the next days we noticed that Madu was not like the other

children. She was entertained by simple things, very methodical and it appeared that the other children were afraid of her. Our neighbors warned us not to play with her. "That girl is mad, don't go near her" they would say. But that is exactly what God wanted us to do and we had just the people to do it.

In a team of 24 people, we had three with siblings that have special needs and they quickly took to seeing that Madu was also able to experience the love that God sent us to share. Although we don't

know exactly what it is, we know that Madu communicates, gives and receives differently than most. It was beautiful to see these three combine the knowledge, experience and years of wrestling with how to best love their own siblings and transfer that to every minute we spent with Madu.

We spent hours sitting in front of the house inventing and teaching games to her and the other children that she could participate actively in. We embraced her tantrums with love and cherished the quite moments of her unspoken affection. We were even able to spend time with the neighbor kids and teach them a bit about Madu and the things we had learned from her;

how to understand the words she tries to say and the actions she uses when words fail.

After just a few short weeks we were amazed to see that the children where actually understanding what we had told them and that Madu was being incorporated into their playtime. What is more, is that we saw it wasn't just the children that had changed. The adults didn't prevent their kids from playing with her, they didn't spit at her or act afraid and they even opened up to her family once again.

By simply loving as Jesus loved, without prejudice or fear, we saw a whole neighborhood transformed to look more like the Kingdom of God.

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KiendaAs we made our way across the

whirring intersection, timing our steps just right in order to miss the herd of scooters zooming past, we spotted him. (Admittedly, our attention was first grabbed by the sight of the watermelon he was selling but God has a funny way of getting our attention doesn't he?)

It was our first full day out on the streets of Ouagadougou and we had split into small groups to prayer walk our lit tle section of the city. When we stumbled across Kienda he was sitting on a bench a few meters from his fruit stand, staring at the ground. A man noticed us approach, slugged him on the shoulder and pointed in our direction. We began to speak the lit tle french we knew but quickly discovered that he was deaf.

Before leaving for outreach we had gotten several words reminding and encouraging us to pray for deaf ears to be opened, so we asked if we could (through all manors of gestures and broken sign language) and he agreed. We laid hands on his ears (with his permission of course) and began to

pray restoration over his hearing. When we removed our hands he

looked a lit tle confused. He pointed to his right ear, pinched his fingers together and then opened them ever so slightly. He was telling us that he could hear! Only a tiny bit, but still...HE COULD HEAR!!!

Once we realized this our faces filled with joy and so did his. It was the first time we saw Kienda smile and the last time we ever saw him without it.

Three women I met outside of the medical center after having their cataract surgury banadages removed. The older woman in the middle wanted me to come live in her house with her.

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Emsimision The first time I had ever heard the name Burkina Faso it was in conjunction with Emsimision. My friend and fellow Pick A Pocket pocketeer, Keila, was talking about her parents and the work that they do as medical missionaries.

Her parents, both doctors specializing in ENT and speech therapy, started Emsimision over 10 years ago. They wanted to take doctors from developed nations and connect them with doctors in underdeveloped nations. Together they provide medical aid, giving care to those who need it immediately but also training the local doctors with new procedures and skills for the future. The idea is for believers and non believers alike to come together as medical professionals and reach out with the talents and skills they have to a world in need.

When Keila told me that her parents would be taking a team to Burkina just after Christmas, I knew that this was something my team needed to be a part of. A few days before the new year, we met up with their large team consisting of doctors, medical students and a bevy of other qualified individuals to lay out a plan of action. They had

amongst them Ophthalmologists, General Practitioners, Pediatricians, Obstetrician/Gynecologists and Ear, Nose & Throat specialists who were all ready for a fast paced week of serving the poor.

As a team of artists we had a unique opportunity to serve the people who were serving. We provided a VBS type program for the hundreds of village children that would come to the grounds every day, teaching art or playing sports with them. We also served by helping to provide documentary coverage of the week, taking photos and videos inside and outside the exam/operation rooms as well as around the grounds. We even had one student that was able to use her nursing skills and join the doctors in providing medical care.

The week was long and tiring but the rewards were so much greater. Every day we would talk as a team and there would be stories of God on the move. Whether it was witnessing a young mother hear her babies heartbeat for the first time or consoling the one who was told she was unable to have children, God was there. He showed up in the teary eyes of those receiving sight after years of cataract blindness

and in the simple cleaning of a tiny skinned knee. We even had the amazing blessing of being present as a deaf child heard his mothers voice for the first time! It was beautiful to see both doctors and patients alike experience the love of God as it flowed from such capable hands.

It was great to join with people that are pursuing a desire to serve the poorest of the poor with the skills that they have. And the great thing is, the cycle doesn't stop there. My team took all of the photos, videos, art and stories we collected over the week and handed them over to Keila to use for Emsimision. I will be partnering with her, as part of Pick A Pocket media team, to help put it all together for a media kit that will help Emsimision take their vision even further.

Keila & I repping our poverty monster shirts in Ouagadougou

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Global Hope Network International is a nonprofit organization we had the privilege of working with the week proceeding our time with Emsimision. Their goal is to empower and equip the local people in order to spur community transformation. We went with them on a follow-up visit to the village of Seneba where they were set to conduct seminars with municipal committees and do health screenings for the children at the local school.

As artists, we didn't know much about the economic side of working with this village, but what we could provide was a way to reach out to the locals and connect with them.We were asked to host a series of workshops in which we could engage the whole community. We decided to teach on Embroidery and basic English skills as a way to interact with the community and get to know them more.

A small group of us ventured out to visit the three main tribes within the village to invite them to the workshops. We had the pleasure of meeting with the elders of both the Mossi and Dagara tribes, giving

us the opportunity to share a lit tle about why we had come to the village and extend an invitation for them to join us for the following week.

The next day we set up in the middle of the village and waited. Before long though we were met with a bigger crowd than we could have ever imagined. The Mossi women came in with huge baskets on their heads and proceeded to set themselves up in a long line. They unpacked their baskets and began to show us how they spin raw cotton into thread by hand. Then they put up the supplies and we had the opportunity to hold our workshop teaching them embroidery. They had so much fun that each day they would invite us back and there would be more artisans revealing their skills; Daga women turning old rice sacks into baskets, men whittling and so on.

On our last day in the village, we were given the honor of watching an elder in the Mossi tribe weave a traditional muslim cloth with the cotton thread that the women had spun the days before. This was a huge honor, as these types of things are usually kept strictly in the family. it was an amazing process to watch.

GHNI

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Before I left for Burkina, I had two dreams: In one, I was picking cotton in fields alongside the women who use it to make fabric and in the other, a dead man was being raised to life. They were simple and seemingly normal, nothing wildly prophetic, just more a promise of things to come. But as I stood in the middle of that village, surrounded by harvested cotton fields with a decision about life and death before me, these dreams took on a whole new reality.

Over the last months I had been in a process of learning what it means to give everything for the sake of the gospel, to prefer others over myself and how to truly love. So with the present and dream worlds colliding, God was reminding me of all I had learned… to lean on the way I know his voice, the way that I know he speaks to me.

"God, I don't understand. I love this team so much and I know you have incredible things still to come for us. I don't want to leave, it would hurt so bad. I love these people like my own family, I can't abandon them now.

…But I trust you so… should I stay or should I go?"

"Go." At the word, I felt my heart crack.

He had stirred my heart so much and allowed me to love the people of this nation deeper than I ever thought possible, and now I had to leave? And what about my team? They were just starting to thrive and I wouldn't be there to see how far they'd go? WHY!?

It took a while before I was able to see past the confusion, but once I did it all made sense. I didn't like the answer, but it made sense. This was another lesson in preferring others over myself. Another opportunity to give everything for the sake of the gospel. Was I willing to prefer the needs of my family over my own? Was I willing to give the remaining time in Burkina to God and trust that He would do even greater things with it in my absence? Either answer would have been ok, but this was an opportunity for me to be thrust into the fire and refined yet again.

I chose the fire. I chose to go home.

As I sat on the plane, teary eyed from sadness, I thought of my newborn nephew whom I had yet to meet and immediately was reminded of the dream of the man being raised from the dead and God spoke very clearly: "I never give death without the promise of new life." And I began weeping and laughing simultaneously. I probably looked crazy, but I don't care. My heavenly Father that loves me more than I could ever imagine had just taken my cracked and hurting heart and cleaved it back together.

Even in the pain, God is so good. After 40 hours of travel I landed and was blessed with the opportunity of holding that fragile new life while saying my goodbyes to my grandmother just hours before her passing. The fulfillment of promises of the God who speaks and comforts and loves.

When people ask me about the last few months, I don't quite know what to say. It's been beautiful and it's been difficult. I've been tested and worn. I bare the stretch marks of rapid growth and the thin rings of dry seasons. But at the end of the day what I can say is this: It's worth it. JESUS is worth it. All of it. The clarity and the clouds. I may never understand what he is using me to do, but that's not my privilege. My privilege is to know those things and choose to serve and love and adventure with Him anyways.

When people ask me about the last few months, I don't quite know what to say. It's been beautiful and it's been difficult. I've been tested and worn. I bare the stretch marks of rapid growth and the thin rings of dry seasons. But at the end of the day what I can say is this: It's worth it. JESUS is worth it. All of it. The clarity and the clouds. I may never understand what he is using me to do, but that's not my privilege. My privilege is to know those things and choose to serve and love and adventure with Him anyways.

Faithful to the End

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This woman was watching me take photos so I asked if I could take her photo. She was very shy and wouldn't really smile until I tried to say something in Moré. She couldn't stop giggling. Ph

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As I was taking photos in the village of Fing, an unreached village of the Fulani tribe, the women of the tribe began to line up with their children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. This woman, an elder in the Fulani tribe, and her family struck me because they were so stoic once the camera was turned on them. Ph

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During our time in the village of Saneba we had the privilage of getting to know the local people. They gave us a rare glimpse into the way they live their lives and the things they don't share with many. The women and children were particularly open with us and these are a few photos reflecting that openness.

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One of my favorite things about discipling people is watching them discover that they can and do hear the voice of God.

About 5 weeks before we left on outreach, one of my students heard a word during her prayer time. The word was 'Sibalo' but it didn't make sense to her so she thought nothing more about it. Then a few weeks later God brought it to her mind again, so this time she googled it. The first thing to pop up was a weather channel page for Sibalo, Burkina Faso!

And what is more, a few days after that we had a corporate prayer time with all 130 students for the outreach teams, and during the time we were praying for our team another student heard the exact same word and told us that she felt strongly we needed to go to this place. From that point on, our time prayed fervently for God to show us how to get to Sibalo... or even where it was!

Once we arrived and began doing ministry with the few contacts

we had, we started asking about this town, but the question went unanswered. Nobody seemed to know what we were talking about, but we knew that God had spoken and that we needed to get there.

Over the next weeks we fell into some great ministry in Oagadougou and eventually made it out into the bush village of Saneba. And that's where my story begin's to end.

While I was in the process of figuring out whether or not to go home, a few things became really clear. God began speaking to me about Moses and how he persisted and moved forward in the things that God had spoken, despite knowing if he would ever see those things come to be. And he reminded me that even after Moses died, God was still faithful to the Israelites in delivering them to the land he had promised. And that's when it hit me, Sibalo was our promised land... only I would not get to see it.

As I prepared to leave, I shared with the team what I had heard and encouraged them to keep pursuing

all the things God had spoken to us about our time in Burkina Faso. I knew that God would come through. And guess what, HE DID!

My co-leaders had been bold and asked our Burkinabé contacts one more time about Sibalo and this time, the answer was different. As it turns out, our friend Isacca's mother was actually born in that village! He also happened to have an uncle that was a pastor in the town close by and arranged a meeting between him and my co-leaders.

The day that I arrived in America, my friends were meeting with the

pastor. They told him the whole story and in-turn he shared with them that he had been praying that God would show him that his village was not forgotten. And good as he is, God showed up and brought my team along.

In the end, the team wound up spending 10 days in Sibalo and a few other surrounding villages, sharing with the locals about the love that God has for them... the love that brought them together.

All glory be to the God that speaks to his children and never ever fails in his promises! Ph

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Thank You To each of You for making mY involvemenT wiTh This crazY, loving, circus of a Team possible.

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