October 29th, 2012 11:24:25 PM

 

 In The Land of Dumped Couches
 

 

If you came to my neighborhood, it wouldn’t take you long to see one of the many overused loveseats gone awry. You will find them perched on their heads, covered in smears of mud acquired on the team effort trip from door to dumpster, and seeping stuffing from every strange place. Every corner has one and I often find myself admiring the vintage beauties they once were prior to their present practicality. Welcome to Clarkston. The dumpster dotted land I call home.

I never wanted to be here… in Atlanta, Georgia I mean. I always said it was the last city I’d move to, devoid of mountains and all things life-giving for a nature heart. I never wanted to curl up with roaches, ambulance sirens, and the sinking sense of solitude that comes with leaving family behind as I slide the 2x4 through the brackets on my door frame. Maintenance requests ignored, staff delivered neighborly complaints of “my unattended children” running in the hallways causing a ruckus. The worst curse words hurled my direction as a primary language…from kids as young as four. Stolen bicycle seats, late night internet stake outs at the neighbor’s parking space to check e mail, line dried clothes souring for the third time in this constantly changing weather. The normalcy of “color flying” gang reports…from my cell phone… and distant gunshots heard over dinner with friends. Mold, sinus infections, and allergies. Heat, so much heat.

Hmm… and yet.

If that’s all it were, and to be honest some days it has felt that way, it would be downright redonculous for me to leave those lush leaves behind for these cockroaches, crunchy rented carpets, and concrete.

I have been searching for a while now for that final sentence that summarizes the suffering into one beautiful notion of purpose. It has come slowly these days but I am finally starting to write again, and it’s making itself known through the abiding times with my sweet savior who “remains faithful because He cannot deny who He is,” 2 Timothy 2:13.

The odd thing about those couches is that there not too different from the people here… worn thin and barely balancing, set aside with their inner parts coming out in strange ways, They are marked with the journey from their doors to these dumpsters, and for some, the pressure has been too much. A spirit of death has gripped Clarkston recently with many self- imposed deaths. Abuse is common and confessions come my way at the late night hours and the bright ones. It is a place in need of healing… in need of someone to see its potential, its original beauty, to pick it up from it’s dumped form, head to the ground, and repurpose it. Jesus.

This week I held a “secret church”night on my balcony for what was supposed to be four little girls from Burma, Sudan, and Ethiopia. It, of course, became 7. They are excellent negotiators, never, never underestimate them. ( : So, at work teaching till’ 5:00, quick gym class, leave early to make it back to anxious faces there at the door the same time as me… sweaty hugs and joyful exclamations. They were ready. We set up the hot chocolate in a coffee pot on the porch and they go to work layering blankets and Ms. Jenna’s dirty laundry basket towels all across the railing so no one on the playground will see us. We become more acquainted with the process of making hot chocolate with a packet and everyone passes the spoon and takes their turn sharing whatever they’d like. It’s Muslims, Christians, and Jesus at the party. I explain persecution and the way others must follow Jesus in other countries as they have “birthday parties” to protect their times of worship from the government’s eyes. We try to talk quietly as they do… we failed. ( :

I open the floor for the questions I have asked them to bring about God, any and all, and it unfolds into the beautiful time of truth-telling and exposure of misunderstandings of who He is. I ask, “Can I ask you a question about Jesus now?” The contagiously genuine Burmese Muslim responds, “Ya-ah…That’s why we’re here!” I am speechless. We read from the word and talk about it… my temple will be called a house of prayer… and we practice that too. Too many pictures make the girls a little rowdy and I have to lay down the law of respect. We finish early and everyone washes dishes, vacuums the carpet, and begs not to go home. I pray it is only the beginning. Before they’re even gone, another one is calling to me from below the balcony… one who currently lives in abuse and comes to my door for refuge and takes me to hers for help, mediation, and support. The night is over and I go get a movie to start the rest part of the weekend. Friday’s aren’t conventional and I would never change that. I would probably add a few others to the story and I pray God will bring the right roommate who will stand in the gap with me for these kids.

It is time for bed though my heart would sit here for hours just to write to you again. It is eleven and I have to teach again in the morning. Last night was one of the wee hours due to the aforementioned family’s presence in my apartment as I was the door she came to crying. I pray God will provide for my needs through the full-time support of others as the balance of 40+ hours of teaching responsibilities that often come home with me after staying late are met with the needs of the place I came to bring the Kingdom to. And, they just aren’t balancing out. This is my call and this is the obedience I choose.

On a sweet note, I am now a member of a trilingual refugee church plant and the partnership has been powerful. Every Sunday the knocks of way-too-early knuckles announce it is time to go to church. I am running out of room to stuff them in my car. This week 6 walked in with me, last week it was 8. We sort of supply the children’s church. All but one are Hindu. This Sunday I took them home and was invited in by the Christian aunt to eat. There I was, sitting across from the abusive, addicted, Hindu father of one of the boys I take with me while spitting out fragments of beef and chicken bone in my rice and Daal. And I think to myself, God you are working in this, you are faithful even when my time is small. We are all being connected.

Please feel free to write to me. I LOVE to hear from you even though my internet only happens in others parking spaces, coffee shops, or work. Thank you for your patience.

I thank God He has me where He has me even though, lately, I have been struggling with working full-time and living in ministry full-time. I am seeking as I know the long-term call is overseas… but we can only live out today, today. So, here I am with the unreached in the field of preparation. I covet your prayers and feel the work you put into them. I ask that if you feel led to continue, you would focus them on what God wants to do here and for my wisdom and freedom to be a part of that. Thank you. You are family.

                  Love,

                         Jenna in Clarkston

Mail me!:

Jenna Givens

822 N. Indian Creek Dr. #E19

Clarkston, GA 30021

Some Things That Feel Normal

   The view I see as I run at sunset on the farm plot of Johannesburg in the distance.This one however, was taken from the driveway as we pulled in from a long day. It never stops taking my breath and filling me up with that creation centered charge I get as I recognize God's incredible marks.

 

My home for these 2 months.

  Yes I ate this. And more of the same the night before. South African Braai's aree like a huge meatfest BBQ and everyone loves to show them to the Americans. Go ahead all of you who've dedicated your life to make me eat a steak. Bye bye 11 1/2 years of vegetarian/veganism. No, I still didn't love eating steak. Don't have a cow or anything... bahahaha.

 Today's play.... bug themed and just the beginning of chaotic! We should have taken a before and after picture, but the looks of exhaustion would envoke far too much pity. 140 kids showed up from all over and from every status in society.... Needing more of His strength as I became an unexpected group leader and so did many of my teammates to help cope with the unexpected abundance of children, and more are coming tomorrow! Africa is a wild place.

 A creche (creche's are preschools) craft training our team led. This was a project my teammate and I came up with. The ladies rotated through learning how to implement crafts in their own classrooms out of trash that would cost them nothing. Many of the ladies have never learned how to use a pair of scissors. It was a blast!! I came up with this idea as an adaptation from the brown paper bag vest I learned from Mrs. Dottie Shuman in one of my environmental education classes in college! People in South Africa use only plastic bags.... so we improvise!

 These ladies came to the training from creche's all over the place. Many of the women are immigrants from other African countries. These women work and live in the townships (slums) and are the women who bring the light of Jesus to the kids they care for. Please pray for them. It is not easy doing what they do where they are. The lady on the bottom left is our wonderful countryside leader. We danced around the room singing I will follow Jesus in a train line in both English and Zulu to start the training off... their idea! I loved it.

Soaking in love while this little one drifted off in the warm sunshine. This was at the community center in the township (slum) where we were observing the youth put into action what we've been training them to do with Bible storytelling programs. Two highschool teenagers led the program while we assisted as they taught the young children. Incredible!! Please pray that Jesus would penetrate their hearts with the gospel they have learned to preach as questions have arisen of their own decisions for Jesus. Discipleship is SO important! We have to continue to go deeper than the surface with those we are pouring into... 

 Sharing testimony at a township church that took us an hour to find! Luckily because it was so cold that morning, people did as they normally would and just came when it got warmer so we weren't late! How awesome! This was a very special Sunday as we shared the story of Jesus calming the storm and then a few of us shared individual storms in our own lives. I would have laughed my face off if you had told me that I would be sharing about broken heart relationships from high school and college at a church in Africa with women tisk tisking and amening me in that beautiful deep African tone. I guess God works all things together for His good. Even messed up broken hearts and break ups. Just stand up and see what happens.

 PS: this little boy laid in the middle of the floor nearly the whole service. PPS. they served us pumpkin and butternut squash and rooibos teas afterward with rice, MY FAVORITE!!! The pastor and his wife had an adorable story about their engagement and how she turned him down originally... people are just people, no matter where they are. That's her in the red. We are the same age. ( :

I really wish I could show you more of the abundance of little faces we see on a weekly basis, but I can't place their pictures here. Just imagine and then pray for what creative thoughts God shows you! All my love, very very early 5:30 am morning ahead of me! Goodnight ( :

Shedding Light

Sawubona dear family,

I find myself sitting in an African living room that a week and a half ago seemed foreign, wide open, and sun peirced with ornate white washed barred windows for walls. Not so anymore. I now know the routine of drawing the wall of curtains for warmth in the morning and the importance of their 6-o-clock cinching as the sun falls into the biting cold of evening. I know the smoky scent of this place in my air dried clothing, how long it takes to get the glass water boiler to swirl with bubbles for warming Rooibos tea, how to convert kilojoules and kilos, what the lady is actually asking me when she says, "plastics?" at the grocery store as I respond with a confused "uhuh" smile only to watch the screen glow with a mysterious 21 cents.

I know how to light a blowdryer on fire even while using a converter, the nearly correct way to drape the 6 heavy blankets on my bed so that they stop falling on the floor in one sad slump everynight leaving me a frigid popsicle, and how not to sleep with your socks directly against an old fashioned hot water bottle unless of course you want to repeatedly blister your ankles and arches as you dream your getting a splinter. I also know what it means for a fire training to turn into an emergency call to the fire brigade while you fight with everything you didn't know you had in you to save the neighbors animals and feed, how fast I can jump into said fire clothes and the back of the bukkie (pick up truck) to go off roading at the alert, and that South African sweet potatos are not orange.

But none of this matters much.

Let me tell you instead what I'm learning...

That I wish my arms were each 3 feet longer so I could fold in that many more jealous little ones,that if I am willing to stand up in front of His people and listen carefully, He will give me a steady word even if it comes through a shaking microphone, that I LOVE training women to be empowered and effective in reaching those in their own reach, that unity in ministry with other believers amidst so much chaos and struggle is possible, beautiful, and real, that I was never supposed to produce for God as one earning His good pleasure with me and it's finally sinking in, that there is such a thing as a healthy balance in ministry and rest if you are in it for the long haul, that loving the Godly community God gives your for today will always leave you fuller if you are willing to engage in it despite the painful promise of brevity, and how much I am once again reminded that God intends me for this life and the time to jump is growing ever nearer. For today I just thank, think,and walk contently in His love.

For tonight I'd like to give you a mental postcard of the sunset that washed my heart clean and straightened up my minds living room as I ran on the red path and stood between the cabbages.

At 5:20 pm the sun begins to sink into the skyline of Johannesburg miles and miles away. The buildings become visible as if they have suddenly been drawn in with a heavy charcoal pencil. The tall, brittle, fields that seperate us from the city look as if a blanket of gold has laid just across its tips and the dismissal mounts. Sunsets here are like a song you hear in an orchestra. They start soft with taps of color here and there and bits of light piercing the still white cloud cover. As time passes the expression gets louder and more complex until the volume is so brilliant it is an overwhelming punch of beauty that your spirit bonds with and forever craves. The clouds are always different and so are the colors. The tangerine glow is always faithful and the fields certainly don't change much from their coffee with too much creamer shade of dry. scattered, hazy, Stacks of gray begin to appear all across the horizon as you internally converse any need for worry. It is my favorite time of day. The neighbors clustered cows and old windmill get so black against the contrast you feel as if you eaten too much cake or smelled too much potpourri it is so rich.

My favorite part is when the inevitable let down of it's fall is over, you suddenly look around and see all the twinkling lights from the shack cities and towns that neighbor our agriculture plot. I love that part. I even love looking at the mine dump behind us where they've gathered Gold which I call a mountain. Life is about perspective. I really love how quiet it gets and how all you can hear are laughing doves as you breathe the scent of the musty smoke that falls everynight from the day's brushfires and all the people's cooking fires from the slums. It's so still I can finally be with Jesus and talk outloud and no one will hear me. With 7 girls on a team sharing a house and every minute of life, this is a treasure. Tonight the clouds started out looking like someone rapidly unstuffed a mattress and then changed to the symmetrical imprint of a george foreman grill. The colors grew deeper and richer until the sky looked like one ginormous grilled quilt of orange, fuschia, and lavender. Please remember to include in this postcard a scratch and sniff sticker with the abundant scent of cow manure and you have just what I'd like to send you. ( :

More to come beloveds, I cherish you each! Goodnight from South Africa!

If any of you have the wonderful desire to send snail mail... don't deny yourself!! The postal strike is over and I happily await my chance to jump up and down like a deranged maniac with waving mail in hand!
Send it to: WEC SA Johannesburg,
                        (Lucky Me)
                     P.O. Box 10148
                       Dalview 1544
                 Republic of South Africa

All my love,

Jenna in Brakpan

Asked Him on Saturday, Made a Date on Sunday

For those of you who I sheepishly led astray on that one, no I have not become a man chaser. ( :

It's so much better....

After finally taking off the insulating plastic from our kitchen windows, my housemate and I gloriously popped those things open and enjoyed the rays!! Knowing this would bring our pee wee peeping toms in even closer to our inside life, we decided it was worth it. I am really glad we did.

<------------I am the unit on the end

Sunday I was sitting in front of said breezy window eating some salad at our little TV stand kitchen table when a certain young lady walked right up and had a seat on the other side. I have decided in my rediculous imagination that this will one day be an outreach tool which we will disguise as a pretend drive through window where the kids will walk through and pick up their food as there is no screen and my stove is about 6 inches away from it! How fun, c'mon!

Ok back to the story....

This young lady is the daughter of my neighbors. Her family is Bosnian and came over as refugees. She is on the track team, full of the wrong sort of sass, and incredibly misguided by a certain few somalian girls here.. one of which is even banned from the mosque.

Ire*a and the crew of Somalian girls usually travel in a herd and wreak havoc in the neighborhood, espcially on my doorstep and with the Nepali boys. Cursing, fighting, instigating, hanging on cars, the works. Imagine my suprise when I found out last week that she is a Jesus follower and recently was Baptized.

As she sat talking to me, I asked her a question. "Why are you friends with Hali*a?" She responded with an obvious, "I don't know." I told her I don't think it is bad that she is friends with Hali*a, but the reason behind her friendship makes a huge difference in how good it is. I asked her if she knew that once you follow Jesus God says to start telling others about Him and that she has an awesome opportunity to be doing this in (Muslim and out of control) Hali*a's life. I asked her if anyone discipled her after she decided to follow Jesus. "no." "Not anyone from your church or anyone?" "No." I was not incredibly surprised from the fruit of her life, especially after recently having her dad placed in a care clinic for a heart attack and reacting with a downward spiral of acceptance in the wrong group. We all just want to be part of a family, especially children. If it is broken at home, they will find it elsewhere.

Silence.......

Then she asked me a very pregnant question....Why did you move from Clarkston Oaks Apartment Complex?

I told her....

"God is a powerful God who wants to bring light into dark places, to bring His power in and change it. When He does, it lasts. Hali*a will be good for a couple of weeks maybe, but without Jesus, she will return to her bad way. Jesus is the power that creates real change and I did not see many people coming into Willow Branch bring His power here. God never said following Him is easy... the church is not a place of walls where everyone sticks together..we are meant to bring His power into the bad places. Even though it is hard, it is better. God has many people in Clarkston Oaks bringing His power there, so I needed to move to Willow Branch where He wanted me!

When I was in Clarkston Oaks I discipled young girls.... baked with them, taught them about Jesus and how we follow Him with our lives and tell others like he told us to instead of just using the name "Christian." We would memorize parts of the Bible, sing songs, eat together, pray together, and become women who live like copies of Him. It was called discipleship." "I chose these girls because they had terrible language on the playground and didn't look anything like the Jesus they said they followed."

Ire*a stood totally attentive...

"......Are you going to do that here?"

My heart lit up at the weight of these words. I told her I asked the complex's after school ministry leader because I wanted to respect him. He gave me permission to do this and said he would not be a part of it, but I could go ahead. "but there's one problem..I couldn't find any girls......

...not even one."

Silence...

And in a quiet voice she said, "....I want to."

I asked God in my prayer time on Saturday to give me "just one girl ,at least God, to disciple."

Sunday she was standing in my window and we had made our first date.

Yesterday was our first meeting and to our surprise her bad influence, Hali*a, joined. After sitting outside the window watching us make banana chocolate chip cookies together, the only option was to have her ask permisson as a Muslim to learn about Jesus from her parents and invite her in. When she came running back I was quite surprised! I will follow up on this "yes" as I am not totally convinced. Ire*a, however, is all confirmed and committed, checked with her mom and her mom and I had coffee in her apartment discussing it all beforehand. I plan to continue being a constant presence in Ire*a's life upon returning from South Africa as well.

We made goals and the first one for both of the girls was "stop being bad." and Hali*a's unspoken, and quietly written, "stop crusing (cursing)." ( : Hali*a also said she would like to learn more about Islam, her prophet, and God." I am not sure as to the consistency of Hali*a, but please pray that she would continue to come, that God would use this desire as a way to build bridges between our faiths and disciple her right into the Kingdom.

How beautiful for Ire*a's bad influence, Hali*a, to be present in her coming change! Oh what God could do with this!

This week we studied the Samaritan woman and how RADICALLY strange the ways of Jesus are...how he was not only speaking to a Samaritan, but a woman, and an adulturous one whom He knew all about beforehand. How did He address her in spite of this? He called her "dear." That is RADICALLY strange, and these are the ways we want to live. So I gave them a challenge for this week to go outside of what others would expect them to do and to actively love someone they are expected to avoid.

They have some great questions lined up for me!

Thank you for jumping into life here through your prayers and time reading!

God bless your socks right off, unless of course your feet are rather stinky. ( :

Jenna in Clarkston

Body Part Petitions: Boarding Call in 96,298 Minutes.

Dear Elbows, Knees, Noses, and Eyeballs,


  Sitting here contemplating how to express my heart in words to you, I see my clean, crisscrossed, feet leaning lightly against this limp-legged coffee table, and forever furrowed with the marks of so many journeys taken.


  I think of the way I will soon look down at them, dirty, sun-swollen, surrounded by garbage, and gloriously close to little shoeless pairs scattered all around them--the treasures in the trash, the image-bearing children of South Africa’s Brakpan slum.


So what’s my location?


  Today these wrinkly feet are joyously stepping through Georgia clay ministering to the unreached refugee children of Willow Branch apartment complex in Clarkston. After completing Missionary Training School, and healing from a failing body at home, God has returned me to my back yard mission field in a new and incredibly different complex. It is one of the worst complexes in terms of adolescent behavior, as well as, one of the most abundant. My days here are so full and challenging at times they require a quick dodge back inside the door for pleading prayer with my housemate before the cursing and riots break out on our doorstep between these colorful little imitators of the brokenness that has preceded them.

Pancake Party  and Bible storytelling at Jenna's apartment!
Clarkston Oaks Apartment Complex, 2011

  I need Jesus to come and fill this place and He has made it clear that He prefers to do that through the flesh of His vessels, and for today, for this spring, and for this coming year, it’s mine.


 I live in the most diverse square mile of the United States, and that means the neighbor behind me hanging up his laundry while I type is Burmese, my unexpected dinnerdate last night, a little boy sounding out the birth of Jesus book so he can pass his reading exam, is Nepali, Hindu, and carries the burden of a dad known as the “Drunk” who wanders the complex at night.

It means a square mile so packed with bondage and idol worship that only God, only God, can bring the healing.

  Please pray for my home, that it would be awakened from its sleep, and for the children of Willow Branch, for healing. As hard as it is to leave it, I praise God for where He is taking me and that this community awaits me with great Kingdom potential when I return.

  Soon I will board a plane with a team of 6 other women from WEC’s Rainbows of Hope for 2 months to a place, like Jonah, I have never necessarily wanted to go. But as I sense the Spirit’s leading, I am filled with giddiness for the hand of God!


  In the slums we will be working alongside local missionaries and believers, reaching out to children and families in shattered communities. We will show young people faced with the realities of abuse, drugs, poverty, and AIDS - that they are rich in value to their daddy Jesus. We will drive out the lies through powerful words, music, and drama in the hearts of high school and primary students. One of the major aspects of this trip will be the many fascets of training our team will be providing to local children's workers and trainers. Also, We will join local Zulu speaking staff in offering children in crisis outreach through school and children's home-holiday programs, as well as, appropriate childcare trainings at daycare centers.  


 We will also utilize dance, storytelling, and arts activities for outreach, which are always favorites with the kids, especially when they see how ridiculous I look doing them! We will lift burdens in a wide-range of practical tasks including, painting, building, land maintenance, and brushfire prevention. We will even be helping with an outreach on WEC'S land called "Farming God's Way," which trains others about sustainable food production on a small area of land! I have wanted to be a part of that for so long and studied Environmental Science in college for such a time as this!!! 


So much is needed to run a ministry long-term to children in crisis, so it's our joy to complement the work of the missionaries who will bear the torch long after we return. From experience, I cannot tell you the value of a burst of fresh helping hands in long term ministry.


   YOU are the senders I am petitioning for prayers and financial support because the truth is, I am just me without you, and that was never the way God intended it. I want you to share in this beautiful thing God is surely about to do, and He invites us all to be a part of it. This is a formal invitation ( : Please come to South Africa through my hands and wrinkled feet, through your prayers that have the power to change every day for God’s glory while I am there.


From my heart,
                      Jenna Givens
      822 N. Indian Creek Dr. Apt. A8
               Clarkston, GA 30021

Cost: $4,200  

Dates: Jun 4th-Aug 6th

  Donations: Rainbows of Hope P.O. Box 517 Fort Mill, SC 29716

(Please include a note specifying “for Jenna Givens”)

Pollen Profanities.

                                                                                                                               March 24th, 2012

Oh the variety of one week.

It's not everyday you wake up to the words "F*&% You" written across your car in pollen, but such is the standard of conflicted children, of the broken, and I am learning to take it in stride...
      
 to ask my Father for help in reaching into their wounds with healing life.

Do I know the culprit? Yes... I am sure I do. He is likely the same little boy I have been writing to you about, the same one who as a form of an I'm sorry for his erratic behavior drew hearts with his name in it on the same hood at 11 pm just the day prior, caught him through my bedroom window. ( :

I just wanted to help you see what life is really like, beyond the beauty and valor of a "missionary" calling.

There's so much else I should be doing right now, preparing for my Teach For America interview most notably, but I've just got to catch you up or I may never.

 I'll start with today and give myself a bit of time to recall the bizarre events of the other days!

Today a missionary friend, Rosie, and I took 3 beautiful little refugee girls from Eritrea and Thailand out to IHOP for Saturday morning breakfast. They were so happy with their Dr. Seuss truffula seeds, thank you IHOP, and their hamburgers and icecream cone pancake breakfasts. Ordering for refugee children is an event all its own. Senayit wanted Strawberry juice, she got strawberry lemonade which she confidently referred to as "lemahlar." Little Roma wanted ham, only ham, that's it. We talked her into the ice cream cone pancake, mostly because I wanted to see it! Thanks mom for the gift card! The little girls from Eritrea were 2 of my discipleship girls from when I was living in the other complex, and it was so AWESOME to love on them again.

Burgers for Breakfast

I explained this to the Thai 10 year old across from me, meek and so caring, and decided to ask her if she went to church or if the girls had told her about Jesus yet? She happily told me that she does, and then Senayit and Roma shouted out, "DO YOU KNOW GENESIS 1:1?" Shyly she said no. I asked if they did, and there they went, repeating back their memory verse in proud synchrony! I asked where they learned it, they said, "from discipleship with you!" I was blown away that they had remembered and so blessed to hear the word of God still in them! The best part? Getting to explain to Sar Pa, Roma, and Senayit that the reason I loved spending my gift card on them was that they were incredibly valuable, that if they believed in Jesus and that He is the king, then they are children of God, and if they are daughters, then that makes them princesses of the king! "PRINCESSES?!!" Well, they seemed to like that a whole lot. Especially Sar Pa who was new to me, and she decided she would like to start joining the discipleship group that another wonderful lady is now leading in that complex.

Thank you Lord!

A Picture of Heaven,
maybe they will even have Ice Cream Cone
Pancakes at the Banquesting Table ( :

After that we went to the dollar store where the girls each picked out a bible story book with a sing along cd and happily read them as they walked through the aisles not watching where they were going. Softspoken Sar Pa stood next to me ecstatic to show me the one she had picked, and to my shock began boldly telling me the story of Noah. I've never loved the dollar store so much.  After making them promise to always walk in 3's between complexes, and getting their parents permission at the door, they have all been invited back to have a pizza making and bible story reading sleepover party next Friday with me and my friend Rosie!



I'm afraid I will have to skip a few days for your eyes sake.

Thursday was an incredibly eventful day, which leads me to the pollen profanities.

Needing to go for a run and having a stoop full of Nepali little boys is a conflicting idea. So, in an effort to get the best of both worlds, I just brough them along as body guards. Yep, there goes the white girl in her neon tennis shoes with 7 hollering little boys tagging behind and tugging alongside her on her only two wrists, so how many boys kept up? Just only two, but the others sure did try! I've never seen so many shortcuts taken in my life, they were proudly popping out of buildings everywhere!

Almost back home, one of the troubled boys starts going nuts. I ask what's wrong. "Sag" tells me that some girls were yelling some TERRIBLY inappropriate remarks about he and I. I knew eventually this would come as a direct result of jealousy between the children, as it always has. I march over to deal with it and put an end to the obscene remarks. It was a mess. I end up having to break up a near brawl between the children, black muslim teenage girl attitude against frantically shouting Nepali testosterone. As a crowd of people begin to squat at the top of the hill, I do my best to keep my voice as low as possible and control the situation for the sake of my reputation in my new community. After explaining what I expect, that I am friends with everyone regardless of their problems, that anybody can come to my apartment and we will work on it and be friends as long as there is respect between us, I walk away from the situation with a bunch of angry boys huffing along in tow.


Then the best part came, the part God used for good. We sat on the stoop (others stretched themselves across the hand rail) as I demanded their silence and explained that their ability to do so would determine the rest of the evening. Frowns and stink eyes.

 After explaining the situation, why what happened was not okay and how we are to treat oneanother, what I demand as respect, why I love them, how Jesus is the only way I can love my enemies, the person who stole my iPod in college, the people who broke my heart, how He feels about them, their value, how He sees the girl who said the terrible things about us that night, what I know they are capable of, asking them questions and getting good answers, and  "Sag's" violent answers, I had almost entirely lost their attention; which they let me know through fake yawns.

 So now what? Lord help me, now what? "Sag" is still going crazy and has lost all privileges for the night, how do I break through to them?! God thank you..... "Okay, everybody up!!!" We are going to act this out! I am the first volunteer to be hurled slanderous remarks toward, no profanities please. And one by one, we acted out what we are to do as we approach someone who is saying untrue things about us, because they always will. "YHEW ARE A PEICE OF PAY-PEHR! BoOOY!" "YOU SMELL LIKE YOUR MAMA'S POO!" The laughter broke out in roars. The next door neighbors came out. They could hardly bring themselves to say an insult against me through the laughter. The best part?! THEY GOT IT!

They approached the one wronging them, ASKED if they were speaking to them, ASKED if they had said what they heard, TOLD them it isn't true, that they didn't appreciate them speaking to them that way, and WALKED AWAY, because "you know who you are, and you can be CONFIDENT in it. You don't have to convince someone else. You be responsible for YOUR actions and walk away.

Exhausted, I showered, sat on my floor against the wall, ate left over sweet potato homefries out of a glass in my new room and just stared for a while. It was good, God is good, and these broken children want to be good, Even if they hate the discipline, and I hate the follow through, even if they don't have the tools in their tool box to handle it better than writing pollen profanities. I know It will come because I saw it in Senayit today, a beautiful, thriving, loving friend and witness for Jesus who just a year ago was yelling obscenities on the playground. I disciple because it's worth it, because it's the way of Jesus, and because I know He heals the wounded.

I love you all. Thanks for reading. Please pray for Willow Branch, for men to come inhabit this place and be a mentor to these boys.

Gotta go, it's 3 more little ones at the back door attacking the living room like monkeys and I am being summoned to draw a "plower."


Sincerely with love!
Jenna in Clarkston.

Other fun praises:

• speaking French with a Congolese trauma victim while taking her home from free bread distribution, knowing it's only the beginning of our friendship
• Crashing a little boys soccer pick up game on my run through the complexes and teaching them some moves
• My incredible housemate God has given me for community
• Seeing Senayit just show up at my door after hearing my apartment number from someone
• tri-weekly complex prayer walking dates with my friend Rosie soon to come
• Being well enough to look for a job, even though it's not going so well.

Welcoming My Heart Home.

                                                                                                                      March 17th, 2012

Question:

How many women from how many cultures does it take to nail a wobbly
bookshelf to the wall??

Well, definitely more than 3 from more than two!

I am once again familiar with the perpetual sweaty hand print on the front
door, constant smushing of 6 legged carpet passersby, waterfall decorated
ceilings and the sport of bucket sprinting, and the really annoying
side affect of living with refugees... unconciously always talking
with my hands! I am anything but cool. But more on this shananagans in a
second...

Welcome back to life shared through written words! Thanks for taking the
time to read along with me, though I don't deserve your grace after a such
profound pause.

Life is FINALLY in forward swing after one heck of a hefty comma which I
would love to tell you about now that I have all my cogs and wheels ticking
in sense making motion.

Where have I been all this time?
Home.

After completing missonary training school and my role as the college
women's summer internship leader for church planting in Clarkston after I
was very abruptly returned home for treatment from a terribly failing body.
Living in low-income apartments with the refugees came with an unforseen
cost in my apartment, Toxic Black Mold Syndrome. My system, after living in
the heat of GA for so long with the spores going crazy in my apartment,
took a nose dive for the worst and I left everything to come home and seek
help.

God in His loving way and through the diligence of my awesome mom led us to
the answer after so many blood tests, scans, and costly dead ends. I can't
even begin to tell you the desperation of this process and the relief when
God introduced us to Nutritional Wellness Initiative in Knoxville, TN.
Let me give you the list so you can understand better where God has
delivered me from...

When I first started treatment I was tested and found to be chock full of:

•   The Largest parasites in my pancreas
•   Heavy Metal poisening (really affected my memory)
•   Arsenic
•   Mold
•   Gluten sensitivity and food allergies from having such a weak system
•   Malnourished from failing digestion
•   Unable to metabolize fats and sugars
•   (if not for running so much would have become obese)
•   Overloaded and sick liver, so much so I had to eliminate any fragrances and pesticides because it couldn't process them out
•    A bacterial infection called Klebsiella Pneumoneae

I was a mess. When my body started turning highlighter yellow we knew my
liver was in trouble and thus began the tests at the ER only to later
understand that it was because I was so sick I couldn't process out the
natural carotenes in the fruits and vegetables I was eating! I ended up
taking on the challenge of a 21 day detox fast of only homemade blended
soups made of strictly vegetables and powdered fruit drinks so my body
could heal instead of digesting all day. It was awful, but I made it and I
would do anything to get back on the mission field sooner! There were days
I could not make it from the couch to the kitchen.

Praise God for my family and all that they walked through with me. I cannot
convey to you in words the emotional and physical lows I experienced during
these past 7 months.... depression, struggle, searching, isolation. I like
to be real with people so they don't have to keep their burdens secret
either, so that is why I want you to know that even people who love Jesus
incredibly hard feel like He is a million miles away and may doubt Him to
the core. This has been my dark night of the soul and God has delivered me
from it.. which is the GOOD part I want to tell you about!!

WHERE AM I? CLARKSTON!!!! WITH THE REFUGEES I LOVE!

I am healthy, active, and walking in faith in a new complex as of one week ago!
The two ladies I mentioned regarding the wobbly bookshelf... they are
Iranian and they are currently my roomates along with one other American
girl who I grow fonder of everyday. It is incredible to be back in
community, with all its rediculous only in Clarkston moments. Let me tell
you about it just really quick because I have to tell you!!! My heart is
bursting, my sparkle is back, and you should know!
After failing to get the darn nail in the hard wood and pushing eachother
out of the way we resorted to a hook in the wall, very genius I know. It
was my idea.. ehem cough cough.

After it was over, covered in sweat I told the Iranian ladies, "This is how we say good job in America!" and high fived them both. Next thing I knew I was being summoned to the kitchen
where they had prepared scrambled omelette in a pan with olives and hot sauce to top it off and naan bread for scooping. We all sat on little chairs and stools huddled around a frying pan scooping the concoction onto our bread and speaking through mostly charades and broken English. It was a
beautiful moment and I was reminded again that God has such a clear call on
my life.

These are the moments that give me my deepest joy.
 Don't cry Jenna, don't cry! I have waited so long....

Lastnight after rollerblading and longboarding through several of the
complexes and steep hills (poor decision) at twilight, My roomate and
I walked in the back door of her Nepali friends apartment where she was
sitting on the floor eating rice and curry with her hands. We traded the
little Nepali we knew back and forth and watched a volleyball court full of
children and adults playing various sports through their opened sliding
glass doors. The kids didn't take long to see our vacant roller blades and
long board sitting outside and soon after the laughter began to explode.

When we got back to our apartment for the night God gave me the opportunity
to speak value into the life of a little Nepali boy named "Sag" (shortened
for privacy)  who has been physically abused, tossed around, and pretty
much neglected in his family. We sat on the doormat, hail and rain coming
down around us, his voice shouting lies of "I am not good, I am not good,
God don't fix my problem, don't fix any problem, doesn't know A,B,C,D." My
heart breaking... but seeing Jesus there with us speaking the words to him
coming out of my mouth. "When you were born how do you think you got here?"
"MY MOTHER!" "Yeah, but how do you think you became this beautiful person
you are?" "I AM NOT BEAUTIFUL!" "You are beautiful and when you were born
God said, that is good! You are beautiful, that's just how I wanted you to
come out, with this personality! He says you are valuable." "What is
valuable?" "It's like gold, like gems, like treasure."

Day by day,
child by child,
God sees them each and wants His good for their life, their relationship and restoration.

Please pray with me for the complex of Willow Branch, it is new to me and
FULL of children. It is HUGE and overwhelming, but God wanted me here. After a month of indecision and painful processing in confusion about coming back, God spoke as I sought Him for 30 minutes a day in the Word to add something good into my life during Lent. It was time. He
told me on a Thursday, I quit my job at home on a Friday, and was here one
week later. God has a plan but He has been telling me that nothing will
come without prayer as its foundation. Also, COME VISIT!

I am searching for a part time job and would love your prayers for this as
well to help out with living costs here. Thank you if you made it this
far... I cherish your involvement in my life. It is through the prayers and
financial gifts of my bigger family that I am able to be here bringing the
kingdom of God amidst so many lies.

Logistical things:

   - living on remaining funds raised during missionary training school and
   seeking a part time job to be available to do ministry.
   - not officially serving with a specific organization, but living
   incarnationally and missionally as God unfolds the plan He has for this
   complex of unreached peoples and churchplanting among the children and
   their families. My roomate and I would love to pioneer a sports ministry
   here.
   - My Iranian rooomates are moving this week into a different complex and
   we feel this is best as the apartment is about to become the hub for
   childrens ministry.
   - Praying about serving on a team in South Africa this summer, as well
   as, doing Teach For America to get a teaching certficate debt free which
   would be very helpful overseas (I made it to the final round of
   interviews!) I also have a job interview today to be a teacher here in the
   Fall at a non-traditional multicultural private school and be able to
   continue to do ministry in my complex. Please pray God would help me sort
   out the direction to go!

I love you all!! Wanna hear from ya!
            Jenna Givens
822 N.Indian Creek Dr. Apt. A8
       Clarkston, GA 30021