Progression From Sister Wendow to Mama Wendy

Original post 8/5/2015

In 2006, at 40, I set out on a journey to Ethiopia with a group of about 20 people who had never done a missions trip, much less traveled to an underdeveloped country. One of my spiritual mamas, Shirley, and one of my spiritual dads, David, led the trip.

Some of the funniest moments from this trip involved Shirley and her desire to make sure that she brought all of us back home! If she counted her group once, she counted us a thousand times! Every time we moved, she counted us. When we got on the plane, she counted us. If we went to the bathroom or sneezed, she counted us. By the end of the trip, we were all saying we were going to buy her a stick like the little shepherd boys had and then she wouldn’t need to count us but could smack us on the backside to keep us together!

Anyway! Away from that rabbit trail! When we arrived at the orphanage, I became known as sister Wendow. You see, in their language, they didn’t have the “dy” sound, but a “doe” sound, so, sister Wendow it was. I liked this! I was the cool sister! Even though I was old enough to be their mom, I wanted to be the cool sister. The one that played with the kids and made silly faces. The one that didn’t have to make the grown-up decisions. It was great!

Move ahead to 2011 and my first trip to South Africa. By now I’m 45, but I still get to be the silly, lay on the ground, and pretend I’m a crocodile, sister figure. Honestly, I wanted to be the cool sister figure or the cool Auntie figure because I wasn’t “old” enough to be the mama figure. The sister and the auntie don’t have to make serious decisions and talk to you about growing up. They just get to be the one that loves you and makes you laugh. Besides, I have two children at home who call me mom, I don’t need anyone else calling me mom! (March 22, 2024…Boy was I wrong about that point!)

The next step is 2012, 46 years old, and the year that things begin to change. Thuli, the pastor’s wife in Mbonisweni, told me I reminded her of her mom, always smiling. On the way back to Joburg, we stopped halfway for the potty break that was supposed to a 10-minute stop. 10 minutes drifted into 20 minutes and we were wondering what in the world we were waiting for. Come to find out, we were waiting for Thuli and Sthembiso to meet us to say goodbye. The moment Thuli hugged me she said, “I’m going to miss you, Mom!” Oh, man!

As we climbed into the shuttle, I remember thinking, “I don’t want to be known as the mom, I want to be known as the cool auntie!” Immediately I heard the following words from the Lord, “Do not discount being called mom in this country.” This was such a sweet correction and an absolutely profound moment in my life.

Having grown up with my mom always in my life, I had no idea the depth of hurt, confusion, and pain that come with a life where no mama is there to wrap you in their arms and tell you it’s all going to be okay. No one to kiss the little, and big, boos boos that come with life. No one to role model what it’s like to be a mama. No one to ask the hard questions to. Questions like, why don’t I have a father or why do I have HIV?

With that one sweet, “I’ll miss you, Mom,” my role shifted. I realized that there is a sweetness to being called mama by those that you didn’t birth into this world. I’ve also begun to wonder how Sarah felt knowing she was going to be the mother of a nation. The weight of responsibility is staggering and yet….

God called me to be a mama.

To love unconditionally, to speak hard truths, and to make hard decisions. He has called me to kiss the broken and tell them it’s all going to be okay. He has called me to role model what being a mama is like. He’s called me to answer the hard questions. He’s called me to sit and listen to the cries of those who are adopted. He’s called me to listen to the cries of the sick and He’s called me to tell them that they have a Father that loves them so much that He sent His only Son to a cross.

God called me to be a mama!

Fast forward to March 22, 2024, and I still have those who call me Mama Wendy. They are scattered all over the world and I may not hear from them every single day, but when I do, my heart smiles when I hear them say, “Hey Mama Wendy!”

Rise Up!

Original post 7/7/2015

Titus 2:3-5English Standard Version (ESV)

3 Older women likewise are to be reverent in behavior, not slanderers or slaves to much wine. They are to teach what is good, 4 and so train the young women to love their husbands and children, 5 to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled.

Has God ever spoken something to you that you questioned His timing or said the words, “Um, I think you’ve got the wrong person?” Now, for those of you who just answered “No,” I will be praying for you because I believe we’ve all done it at one time or another. My time was about two months ago. God began to speak to me five words…”rise up, daughter of God!”
My very first thought was, “rise up? I thought I did the rising up when I left my family and moved to South Africa to do the work of the ministry?”

God’s response? “Yes, you did. Now, I want you to rise up further.”

“This is getting ready to get even harder, isn’t it?”

“Yes, my daughter, but it’s nothing that you can not handle as long as you choose to stay rooted in Me and allow the Holy Spirit to lead you. You can do this!”

“How do You know?” YES! I just asked God that question…stop laughing!

“Because I created it in you. I created you for good works!“

“Ok, then. Let’s do this!”

In the beginning, this was awesome, and I was ready to do it, and then…yep, then life happened. I had the opportunity to start walking out exactly what God was calling me to. I had the opportunity to rise up and honestly, I. Did. Not. Like. It!

Growing up, I remember my granddaddy, a great man of God, saying, “This is what the enemy of our soul desires to do, steal the Word that has been spoken to us, because he knows that if it takes root in us, we will draw our swords and do battle. Rising up to be who God intended for us to be.

Make no mistake, battle lines were drawn.

The enemy of my soul is on one side, ready to steal the word, with me on the other, sword drawn, ready to rise up.

The difference between the sides is this: God, my God, is on my side! God had spoken a word to me that I grabbed onto and planted deep within my spirit.

Yes, God is calling me deeper. God is calling me to be a complete Titus woman.

Be reverent.

Rise up!

Don’t gossip. Even with prayer requests!

Rise up!

Teach what is good. Which means I must know what the Word says!

Rise up!

Train the young women.

Rise up!

Even when I want to yell and scream.

Rise up!

Be pure.

Rise up!

Submit to Brett.

Please know that I have not yet arrived; however, I am trying my best to fulfill the role God has entrusted to me.

Rise up!

Rise up, daughter of God.

Rise up!

March 20, 2024, God gave me this mandate again in March of 2022 and the fruit of that Rise Up moment will be fulfilled on April 26, 2024, when I receive my BS in Ministerial Leadership: Pastoral Care and Counseling! And after that date, I’m pretty sure God will have other Rise Up moments for this daughter!

Beautiful Hands

Original post 6/25/2015

God has called each of us to be His hands and feet on this earth. Yesterday, I got to bless the hands of a beautiful Gogo in Dwaleni. The lady’s name is Zodwa, and yesterday was her birthday. I asked the ladies to speak out what they love and appreciate about her. Here are some of their words…

When I was getting tired of being the only one making sure that the center was clean, God sent me Zodwa. She comes every day and cleans the center with joy.

She loves the children and wants to see them have plenty to eat.

Her smile is full of love.

As these words were spoken over her, I could tell that her heart was being encouraged. I also heard the Holy Spirit say, “Get where you can hold her hands, look her in the eyes, and bless her.”

The Holy Spirit took over as I took her hands and spoke life into her. I’m not sure of all that I said, but I remember talking about her hands and how God is using them to bless people.

Warning rabbit trail ahead!

Earlier, she had given me a shawl and a hat that she had made—in ONE day! I remember talking about how her hands had blessed me so much, and with those words, tears fell. You see, Zodwa is old enough to remember the hard times of apartheid. She is old enough to know that a white woman should never say that a black woman’s hands had blessed her. She is old enough to remember, and I am too stubborn to allow the color of our skin to separate us!

As we held hands and tears fell, we were knit together in Him.

Colossians 2:2 Being knit together in love; to reach all the riches of full assurance of understanding and the knowledge of God’s mystery, which is Christ.

Hanging Onto Hope

Original post 6/10/2015

**name has been changed**

Over the last week, this is where I have been…hanging onto hope.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I head to Embonisweni, get out of the car, and begin a ritual that I love: hugging six beautiful women, telling them I love them, getting to work chopping onions (they actually leave these for me), and listening to these same six women chatter away in Siswati. You can better believe that when one is missing, I KNOW IT!

Last Tuesday was no different. We got out of the car, hugs, kisses, and I love you were said, knives were grabbed, and….wait…where is **Mary**? No one knows. Have any of you heard from her? No. Does anyone have her cell number? She doesn’t have a phone right now. The question, “Do you think she is okay?” is met with, “We don’t know.”

Those three words…we don’t know…are the hardest words for me to hear and, I think, for them to say. You see, Mary is in an abusive situation. It’s not much different here than in the States. I’ll find you if you leave. I’ll never do it again. You made me angry. You want to see your child, then come home to me. I will never let you go; you deserve this……………All the words that keep women, and men, trapped.

We were finally able to get a little bit of information…he beat her, and she left and went to town on Monday; no one had seen her since. Thursday rolled around, and still no Mary or word on where she was or if she was safe. Finally, Friday came, and I got a call that said, “She has called her mom, she’s safe, and she’s in Johannesburg.” SAFE! Away from him! Please, Lord, continue to keep her safe!

Tuesday, this week. The same routine…get out of the car, WAIT! Not the same routine! She’s here! She’s back! I hug her and tell her, “I’ve missed you and been worried about you.” She looks up at me and says, “I’m fine,” but the smile that usually lights up her eyes is not there. I know that is probably all I’ll get…for now.

We go about our work as if Mary has never missed a day. My first thought was, “She still doesn’t trust us,” but I knew that was not true. She was just ashamed and trying to be strong. And then…we had finished tea time, and Patchi asked Mary if she was okay. There, see it? Right there…a break in the armor. Mary began to open up that he burned everything that was in the house…her blankets, mattresses, medication…she was left with nothing. He has also taken her son and will not allow her to have him unless she returns to him.

Right there, she started saying, “It’s finished. I deserve better. I shouldn’t have to always be running. He needs to understand it’s finished, but he doesn’t. I am telling you, it’s finished!” We asked if she would have to face him for it to be truly finished, and she spoke words that had my heart torn. She said, “The elders from both families will meet.” What does that even mean?! What if they decide that she must stay with him?! What if, what if, what if?! Brett just happened to be out there, and we prayed for protection over her and God’s love and truth about who she is over her. As we prayed, she wept. As we prayed hope over her, she poured her tears to God.

Today, I am hanging onto hope for all the women, men, and children who are battered and abused. I hope they will find a way out before it is too late. I hope they realize God never intended them to be someone’s punching bag. I hope they will truly know who they are in Christ. I hope that they will begin to see their value in Christ. And yes, I’m even holding onto hope that these men, or women, will be introduced to Christ and that the Holy Spirit will change them from the inside out.

Father, today, we hold onto hope for your children who are in abusive situations. We ask that you give them the knowledge that there is a way out. We ask that you help them understand that you never, ever meant for anyone to abuse another and that it is okay to leave when their life is in danger. We pray for the children that the abuser is making pawns. Father, cover their hearts and their hurts. Lord, protect everyone involved in these situations. Set a hedge of protection around them. Give your angels charge over them. Fill these homes with your light and your love. Fill these homes with a supernatural peace. The Holy Spirit brings hope and healing. In Jesus’ Name Amen

March 20, 2024, I am still holding onto hope!

Rejoice! Rejoice!

Original post 1/20/2015

The following conversation happened on 20, January, 2015, at 9:59 am…

S….I have some good news and bad news.

Me…You got into school?!?!

S….YES!!!

Me…The same school that said you couldn’t come?

S…YES!!!

Me…I’m so excited!!!

S… I am too, but I won’t be able to be at the after-school program.

Me…I understand completely! YOU GOT INTO SCHOOL!!!!

S…Thank you for praying! I love you!

Me…I love you too!

Prayers answered! She’s going to school! Thank you all for praying and lifting S before the Lord. When I answered her call, I could hear the smile in her voice and it made me rejoice! Rejoice that My Father answers prayers. Rejoice that My Father sets the lonely in families. Rejoice that My Father is a Father of dreams and visions! Rejoice because hope has been restored!

Psalm 35:9 Then my soul will rejoice in the Lord, exulting in his salvation!!

Hope Deferred

Original post 1/18/2015

“My mom died when I was 11, and then my stepfather was kidnapped and murdered.”
“He beats me, but I love him, and I want to respect him because the Bible says I must.”
“I don’t have room for my other children to live with me.”
“I just want to see my children, but they live too far for me to see them.” “They steal your things when you’re not looking.”
“My son was ripped from my arms, and I haven’t seen him since.
“There’s no food. I can’t go to school because I don’t have a uniform.”
“I have no shoes.”
“My mom abandoned us.”

Before long, the stories begin to run into each other and you can hardly make sense of what you’re hearing…

“MyentirefamilyhasHIVandTBandwecan’ttakethemedicinebecausewedon’thaveenoughtoeatandsothemedicinemakesussickthesangomasputcursesonussowecan’tlearnmybrotherdiedonMonday,mysisterdiedonThursdayandmyfatherisinthehospitalIhaveasonthat’s12andsickathome,butIhavetocomeheretothehospitaltobewithmy6yearoldwho’salsosick.WhatdoIdoI’masinglemomandIcan’tbethereforbothofthem.”

And then you have statements like this…
“My dream has been crushed, and I don’t have another one.”

Over the last year, I have heard all of these stories. All of them have broken my heart, but none so much as that last statement. My dream has been crushed, and I don’t have another one. It is the beginning of hopelessness, and hopelessness is the beginning of giving up entirely, and giving up entirely is the beginning of dying on the inside.

Here is the story that led to a dream being crushed:

I had heard that she’d gone to Barberton to apply for school. I have to be very transparent here; my first thought was no, please don’t go, and then I went to yes, God, it’s the desire of her heart, please let this happen. She would be going back to school! The dream that she’s had since her daughter was born would be fulfilled. She has a plan! Her daughter would go to creche (daycare) during the day, stay with her Gogo (grandmother) at night, and she would come home on the weekends to see her daughter.

As I looked into her face that Tuesday and saw the excitement and hope it conveyed, I caught her excitement! She was confident that this was her year! The school would call her on Monday to let her know whether or not she was accepted, and she waited with hope!

Exactly seven days later, when I saw her face, I knew she had not been accepted. My heart fell. She didn’t want to talk about it, so I didn’t push. I just told her I loved her and I’m here for her.

When we arrived to prepare food for the after-school program, she was in the kitchen—quiet, very quiet. She stayed in the kitchen working the pots while the rest of us chopped veggies and talked excitedly about this being our first day back. “You’re awfully quiet this morning,” I said to her. Her response: “I’m just quiet these days.”

As tea time approached and everyone gathered, cold drinks were poured, and the cake was placed on serviettes, I prayed for her. She smiled, but it never quite reached her eyes.

My lesson for the day revolved around dreams for the new year, so we started around the group, and each person shared their dream for the new year, at least until we got to her. With a shrug of her shoulder, she said, “My dreams are crushed.” I then asked, “What about your daughter? Do you have a dream for her?” She just shrugged her shoulders and sipped from her coke. With the cup raised to her lips, I saw her chin quiver, and then hot tears of hope deferred began to fall.

The Bible tells us that hope deferred makes the heart sick, and without a vision, the people perish. When we don’t have hope, how can we dream? I do not want this precious child of God to lose all hope! I don’t want her to feel like she can never dream again because dreams don’t come true. I want her to dream big dreams for herself and her daughter.

I will continue to give her words of encouragement, and I will continue to tell her that God will provide her with the desires of her heart. I will continue to be light to her, but I need your help. Please stand in the gap for her. Please stand in the gap for all who believe their dreams are crushed, and they don’t have another.

God is the God of dreams and hope, and He is the God of promise!

New Year…

Original post 1/8/2015

1/8/2015

…new prayers, pain, joy, sorrow, Same. Big. Merciful. Graceful. Loving. God!

It’s 6:34 am on January 8, 2015. The grass is wet from last night’s rain, the sky is still overcast, and the birds are chirping their morning songs. In the stillness of the morning, I read my devotions, write, cry, and pray. And….I believe.

My devotions are taken from Oswald Chambers’ My Utmost for His Highest. Oswald is known for his personal, intimate relationship with Christ. His words can cut like a knife and heal like a balm. They take me deeper into the Word of God and stretch me to be my utmost for His Highest.

I write…I have already emptied one pen since I started my journal on 28 December. A teacher once told me that when you write things down, your brain remembers them better. I’m finding this to be true. I am determined to write every day. Why? Because life happens fast, and God does great things. We forget, and I don’t want to forget.

I cry…I cry over R. R., one of the ladies I work within the community. She began coming to the after-school program in July of last year. R is a vibrant woman with the strength and resolve to survive. She became very transparent and told us about her hurts and how the Holy Spirit had taught her to forgive those who had hurt her. R is also married to a highly abusive man, rapist, and pedophile. R began attending church and the after-school program when he was in prison. While he was in jail, is when R started to grow. Now, the cause for my tears…. he’s back. He’s back in her house, and he’s beating her…again. He’s back, and I’m not sure R’s son is safe. He’s back, and I wonder if she will be “allowed” to come to the after-school program. He’s back…

…and so I pray…

I pray that God will protect R and her son.
I pray that this man will come to know Christ and no longer beat this beautiful woman.
I pray for the kids attending the after-school program starting on 15 January.
I pray for the young girls in these communities that they will know their value.
I pray for life!

I believe…
…that the prayers of a righteous man avail much.

…I believe that God hears and answers prayer.

…I believe that God can do exceedingly, abundantly above all that I could ask or think.

…I believe that God loves me, He loves the people of South Africa, and He loves you.

New Year…new prayers, pains, joys, sorrow…

SAME. BIG. MERCIFUL. GRACEFUL. LOVING. GOD

When God Hears…

Original post 7/22/2014

…and ANSWERS prayers! On November 13, 2013, I asked the women who volunteer at our Embonisweni (Mbon) feeding, what their dreams were for the feeding. They said, “we want to feed more than once a week and we want the children to receive help with their homework.” The beautiful thing about this…they were dreaming for their community…not for themselves.

After this party, Brett and I headed back to North Carolina for Thanksgiving and Christmas and I didn’t get an opportunity to share with our community development team their dreams.

Imagine my joy when, upon returning, we were at our first community development meeting and Carla said, “I want us to go to 2 feedings a week at Mbon and begin to tutor and disciple the children.” My eyes filled with tears as I shared about the ladies’ dreams. God confirmed!

Today was the kickoff! We were expecting 80-100 children and 196 showed up. There were some rough spots and some things that will need to be tweaked, but overall it was great!

We dreamed big dreams. We prayed big prayers and God answered in a big way!

I’m feeling blessed!

Have You Ever Tried To…

Original post 7/21/2014

Get a few more minutes of snuggle time with your spouse before you have to hit the day running?

Take a bath in a freezing bathroom?

Take a bucket bath?

Use a deep drop toilet with only half a door for privacy?

Read your Bible at 6:00 in the morning…without coffee?

Sit through a four-hour meeting without going to the bathroom? I couldn’t do it either!

Learn to speak a foreign language?

Mix cake batter without a mixer?

Make coffee in a French Press?

Make homemade creamer?

Have a “disagreement” with your spouse, over something petty, while living in a community where there is always someone around?

Shut the blinds so that you can cry without anyone seeing?

Drive a truck full of food to a feeding program?

Play leap frog with children that have absolutely no clue what you’re doing, don’t speak your language, and, once they catch on, giggle uncontrollably?

Tell a story about Jesus, using people, pretending to be flowers, birds, bears, rabbits, and monkeys?

Hug a child with a handicap and wish you could take it away?

See a plate of pap (pronounced pop and very similar to grits) and beans and wonder why there isn’t more?

Being a missionary?

Welcome to my day!

A Fine Line

Original posting 7/15/2014

Getting out of the car, I see their faces and watch as they walk the fine line between trying to sell you their wares and not begging you to buy them. I listen as they call out and say, “Mama, I’ll make you a good price.” What I hear, however, is something entirely different. What I hear is, “Mama, do you see me? Do you see this is how I feed my child and support my family? Mama, I have a story. Do you want to know?” This all takes place in a matter of seconds. It’s in the final seconds that I see the line being drawn. Do I continue to try and sell this to feed my family, or do I look away with a look that says, “Oh well, someone else will come along?”

I have not thought of those ladies since I left their stalls by the waterfall, at least not until this morning. You see, I’ve found myself in that same place lately. Asking, “Do you see me? Have you forgotten all about me? Remember the promise you made? I have a story; do you want to know it?” I’m walking that fine line between not begging for support and trying to sell you my wares.

My wares are not tangible trinkets that can be looked at, admired, and taken home to show people I went to Africa. My wares are of the spiritual kind, the kind you can’t see with your natural eyes. My wares teach God’s Word at teatime to eight beautiful and unique ladies whose lives are being changed. My wares are standing by the bedside of a child stricken with Aids and TB, getting down on his level, touching his face, and saying, “Nbubani ligama lakho (what is your name)?” My wares are chasing children down the hospital hall, trying to brighten their days just a little bit. My wares are touching a mama whose child is in the hospital and saying, “Can I pray for you?” My wares are handing a plate of food to a tiny little body and praying as I give it to her, “God protect this small one. Heal her body.” My wares are singing, dancing, and telling stories to hundreds of children each week.

This morning, God gave me a fresh perspective on the ladies at the waterfall and broke my heart for them. They will no longer be just women selling their wares. I will see them. I will hear them. I will understand that just because I may never know their story doesn’t mean they don’t have one.

He also reminded me that, though others may not see me and the wares I sell, He does. Though others may not understand the intangible aspect of my wares, He does. He sees me. He remembers me. He keeps His promises to me and, most importantly, knows my story and loves me.

Psalm 37:25- I was young, and now I am old, yet I have never seen the righteous forsaken or their children begging for bread. They are always generous and lend freely; their children will be blessed.

One last note…thank you to @HighRockWest! You have seen us. You still remember us. You have adopted us into your family; we are truly thankful and blessed for that!

**This could be the story of any missionary in the world. If you do not support a missionary, would you pray about starting? Missionaries need our financial support, prayer support, and encouragement. Here are the names of three that I know personally who could use a little extra each month:

Mzwandile and Lafo Ndlovu serve with Ten Thousand Homes South Africa. Swazi and Lafo are the leaders of TTH, who have the heart to see the most vulnerable have a safe place to call home. Click on the About Us tab, scroll down to Our Team, and then click on either one of their pictures to give.

Kenzie Caster serves with Ethnos 360 https://ethnos360.org/missionaries/kenzie-caster Kenzie serves the missionaries in Mexico by teaching their children so they can go out and teach in the communities.