All Fired Up About Paper Chains

I love paper chains.

I mean it - I love them.

There is a paper chain-decoration movement at Ten Thousand Homes that I might have had something to do with. The 2-jillion pack of construction paper in my house, taunting me and the kids on base, leaves us with no other option but to create celebrations. How can you not have fun with a rainbow of school supplies hanging above your head? 

But I really love paper chains for another reason: countdowns.

I make them to countdown all things worthy of counting down – holidays, events, moves, transitions, celebrations - whether I’m plucking off a colorful strip of paper in excited anticipation or in trepidation of what happens after the last link is gone.

Coming to Africa:

When I left for the States last December, I made one for Lifa to count down the time until we’d see each other again:

But here’s the thing.

It’s not about getting to the end of the chain.

It’s about being aware of every part of the journey.

Every link matters.

Every piece means something.

I did not want to graduate from grad school – it meant getting hurled into “the real world” from the safety of a seminary bubble, padded by the most incredible spiritual community on the sandy, sunny West Coast. So I made a paper chain and hung it, obnoxiously and against my friends’ wills, in the hallway of our apartment building. (Amanda even wrote a song about how much she hated the paper chain. But she’s now embraced the countdowns.)  

I made it to remind us that we needed to live every link all the way.

It’s worth it to count each link.

A few weeks ago, I invited my GoGo and family over to the Ten Thousand Homes base. The base is called University Village, and it’s both the place where I live and the home base for a group of people believing in building hope and homes in South Africa’s orphaned and vulnerable children.

It was GoGo’s 60^th birthday! We rolled out the red carpet that night – the entire staff came out for Texas Tacos, cake, singing, dancing and joyfully celebrating a lady who lavishes love freely, despite the evidence of a wearying life etched deeply into her features.

Photo by Lindsey Kaufman

With tears in her eyes and her hands clasped around mine, she told me in SiSwati that night that she’d never had a birthday party or cake. Sixty years had come and gone with no acknowledgement.

In fact, we had the party on the wrong day because she hadn’t remembered her birth date correctly.

Sitting under paper chain decorations on GoGo’s first birthday party, I remembered why I love paper chains.

How much joy…

How much devastation…

How many moments…

How much of God’s love was enclosed in every link of GoGo’s story?

WHY didn’t someone… or EVERYONE… make a paper chain link for every year of GoGo’s life, one link at a time, rather than waiting until there were already SIXTY!?!

I met another 18-ish orphan yesterday, living in a shack made of wood and plastic. She had two or three children and no ID – which means her children probably have no ID. That means no funds, no job and no education. No identity. Nothing to even acknowledges their birthdays. Not even a starting link to say their life is worth a paper chain… or even visible.

WE WERE MADE TO BE KNOWN.

WE WERE MADE TO COUNT.

I know you know that.

Because you’re reading this. And you’re doing this with me.

I help write weekly Ten Thousand Homes updates that come with creative prayer challenges – Want to sign up?

But today, I want to use this space to challenge, to beg and to shout. (Caps lock is no accident.)

Make a 7-link paper chain today. Every night before you go to bed for the next week, remove a link and pray. 

PRAY HARD.

Pray for everybody who’s never had a link. 

Who doesn’t have a piece of paper to tell them their birthday. 

Who has never been counted, much less had a reason to countdown.

Pray for Bongi, the orphan I met.

Pray for Busi, whose home we’re building now.

Pray for Lifa and his family members without ID’s.

MAKE EVERY LINK COUNT. 

Guess Who's Coming on Saturday!

Pray for us as we go on the long drive to pick up Lifa on Saturday! His father suggested him staying for 2-3 weeks. Please pray for all of our hearts to be united as family, for God's voice to be louder and clearer, and for miracles throughout the next month. I can't wait to see him again!

Be Careful What You Pray For

Thursday morning I prayed for God to renew my heart and vision to be more like His - for the nations, for the orphan cry, for one heart and one face at a time. To be a servant that is unseen but known. 


"I submit to your eyes, ears, heart ways and thoughts today, Abba. They are higher than mine."


You gotta be careful when you pray for those kinda things. Because He always answers.

Thursday afternoon He answered with pictures.
Glimpses of the depths of His broken-hearted cry for justice and compassion for His kids. And heights of His abounding provision and plans for them. The highest highs and lowest lows. Same moments, same places, same God. More of Him than I could measure or try to understand in a few hours in the hungry community called Dwaleni.

I hope you see what I see. Or something even beyond that.

Such a tiny little body - This little boy can hardly keep 12-month clothes on and will be turning 3

Children giving their leftovers to the ones who needed it most

A 5-year old feeding his 2-year old cousin

Eyes of a 4-year old say they've seen more than a typical 4-year old. (Pictured below)

A high school student from Mbonisweni came to our feeding in Dwaleni to share God's love with anyone who would listen.

A house almost finished and Home coming down to earth

Just a few weeks until completion! The shack with the green tarp behind it is this orphan-headed households current residence.

Found Anthony hiding behind the shack listening to the worship songs we were singing

Shy and reserved, 18-year-old head of the household, Busi stood up before new friends and shared Scripture to us with Lennon translating. A miracle of Hope and Homes!

A future Hope and Homes miracle...

The ONE Thing

The longer I’m in South Africa, worshiping side-by-side with my SiSwati-speaking church family and visitors from around the world, the more I see that it takes every person from every place to get the job done.

I’m not talking about building a house for every homeless person, satisfying the hungry groans of every empty belly, or even finding a family for every orphaned child.

I’m talking about the job, the greatest commandment: Love God with all you’ve got and love your neighbor as yourself. (Mark 12:29-31) That job of bringing heaven down to earth. All that other house-building, belly-filling, orphan-ending stuff happens on the way.

The specifications of the job are unlike any others, and they seem pretty upside-down:

The Boss comes in washing your feet, laying it all down so you can have an equal share in what He’s created… on your first day.

There are 66 canons of the Manual – more than half of which tell stories about dead kings, seas splitting and people pouting in deserts. 

And the Guy who shows up to walk you through your new daily life speaks in red letters and in parables instead of just getting to the point!

When people come here and decide to make themselves vulnerable enough to join in the work of something bigger than themselves…

willing to see God in the ways that hurt…

It starts to hurt when you can’t figure out what to do.

I came to save the world, one orphan at a time.

When I got here, I didn’t know how to do it.

“What’s the ONE thing we need in Africa to make a change?”

We want to be effective and excellent for the Kingdom.

As much of heaven down to earth as quickly as possible.

We’re willing to do it - we just need to know the ONE thing.

People have been asking it since the very beginning. Jesus just kept talking in parables until they were ready to hear it his way instead of theirs.

Because the ONE thing isn’t from ONE culture.

The ONE thing can’t be scribbled on a check, processed through PayPal or be written off on your taxes at the end of the year.

The ONE thing can’t be delivered through the finest doctors the nations have to offer.

The ONE thing can’t be grown in a garden or served on a plate.

The ONE thing can’t be built by human hands and doesn’t have a roof or walls.

The ONE thing is un-seeable and un-doable...

The ONE thing is hope.

Full bank accounts with no hope buy their way into deeper hopelessness when you can never buy enough to fill up that ONE part of you.

The finest medicines in the world can never heal the broken parts of our spirits.

Plentiful food and water could be literally raining from heaven and pouring out of rocks (it’s been done – Exodus 16:4) but can't fill the ravenous hunger for something more.

The most comfortable and secure house can’t build Home in your heart.

The more I see that it’s really all about the unseen, the more I realize how far I really am from “doing it”. But HE keeps inviting me in to get a different and undeserved view. And in those moments, I feel an overwhelming relief in the Truth that I’m not needed for ONE thing in heaven… but I’m wanted and I’m invited into all of it.

Last Thursday, I got front row tickets to the real thing. The real job being done. Hope and Homes coming to earth better than I could have ever planned it.

Ten Thousand Homes is building a house for a child-headed household in a community called Dwaleni. Busi, the head of the household is now 18 years old, had been unable to finish school yet, speaks no English and has spent the last few years since losing her parents, caring for her four younger siblings.

We all have the same design: the image of God.

We all have the same needs: to be known, to be loved, to belong.

But sometimes fulfilling those needs on earth look different to different cultures.

So some ladies in Texas knitted squares to make blankets and prayed over the recipients before shipping them to Ten Thousand Homes.

Then some high school guys in a neighboring community, Mbonisweni decided to spend their Friday night having a dancing/sewing party, and somehow made it cool to knit blankets.

Sewing Party with Mbonisweni Youth from Keri Dodge on Vimeo.
Then the Ten Thousand Homes crew got together with the only social services organization in Dwaleni, a group of ladies who give all of themselves with no pay.

On a hot Thursday afternoon, we all met up to deliver the knitted blankets to Busi and her siblings.

I had no language.

I had no blanket in my hand.

I had nothing to bring except for just being there.

Busi is shy. And her oldest brother, Anthony, wouldn’t even come out of the house. The guys from Mbonisweni gently got Anthony to come out and presented them with new blankets, covered in prayers from Texas and possibly a little salt from the popcorn at the sewing party.

Photos from Keri's blog

It could have been finished there.

But the guys, full of that ONE thing, decided to sing a worship song for Busi.

And then another.

And then the tired, hard-working volunteer ladies – who live in shacks themselves- jumped to their feet, clapping and shouting: “ANOTHER!”

An hour later…

We were still in that yard singing to our Lord.

Proclaiming and calling down that ONE thing.

The entire neighborhood came out and saw what it really looks like to build a Home.

Some of the kids even came over to dance.

Anthony came out again, hiding in the back so we wouldn’t notice him singing.

And then, all of a sudden, Busi stood up, dancing, clapping and leading the songs.

Something changed forever in those young leaders, those sacrificing women, the building crew, the neighbors, in me, the work of Ten Thousand Homes, and, most importantly, in Busi and her family that day.

It was the most incredible display of Hope and Home I’ve ever been a part of.

We brought her a blanket.

We’re building her a house.

But it was when everybody came together and called down that ONE thing, that Home and Hope happened.

Call it down.

Sing it out.

Dance all over it.

Everything else happens on the way. 

CAAAAANNNNONNNNNNN BAALLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!

Everybody whose been within splash-radius of a swimming pool has been affected by a cannon ball.

Slippery feet running on wet cement to the official cannon ball battle cry – a haphazard slurring of syllables, as loud and as reckless as the skin-slapping, wave-making that follows.

CAAAAANNNNONNNNNNN BAALLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!

It’s all about technique.

Timing the tucking in of arms and legs to create the perfectly perilous splash machine: a human cannon ball.

And finally, the satisfaction that, although you now have a wedgie and water up your nose, you were able to successfully get the attention of and soak everybody at the pool party.

Such a sweet victory in riding the waves you just made into the congregation of cheering kids and moms complaining about the towels you just soaked.

It's springtime in South Africa! The flowers are waking up, the sun is shining and the pool on the Ten Thousand Homes base where I live is finally at a tolerable temperature – at least for the kids.

Last Friday we had a pool full of kids:

2 Brazilians

2 Afrikaans-Texans

3 Sesotho-speaking South Africans

2 SiSwati-speaking South Africans

Our own little UN meeting – proving play to be the international language.

Our South African guests spoke no English, didn’t know how to swim and didn’t even have swim trunks.

No problem.

Before we knew it, pants were dropping and kids were flying.

And I was snapping pictures. Don’t judge me, Sister. It was awesome.

They hadn’t all mastered the art of assuming the perfect cannon ball position. But we watched with amazement as the experienced swimmers helped our new little fish go from being afraid to get their toes wet to creating arm-flailing splash machines. No common language or common life experience required. They all made a splash together by the end of the day.

Cannon balls.

We’re made for it.

Complete abandonment. Completely submerged.

It’s like that one time in the Jordan River when a guy named John completely submerged a guy named Jesus and everything changed. (Luke 3)

We’ve got it in us – whether we’re afraid to get our toes wet or we’ve been in the pool for so long that our toes are crinkled and pruney.

I watched the evidence in the perfect poolside picture of the Kingdom of God – the nations coming together and making a joyfui noise… with a resounding splash!

I moved to Africa.

I boxed things up. I gave things away. I said goodbyes to the people and the places that have defined and described the pool party of my life.

It made a splash. My family and I are still feeling the waves… and sometimes get motion-sickness from them. Even those most-important poolside people are still dealing with the wet towels and soggy sandwiches.

On some days, every part of me just wants to get out of the waves and put on a big fluffy pink bath robe… 

ok, maybe not the fluffy pink bath robe part.

We’re made to cannon ball. We’re called to cannon ball. It’s written all over the Book…

Hey Noah, build an ark in a desert and have a couples-only party for every animal species on earth…

CAAAAANNNNONNNNNNN BAALLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!

Hey Moses, lead your people straight into the sea with an angry army chasing after them and nowhere else to turn.

CAAAAANNNNONNNNNNN BAALLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!

Hey shepherd boy, take that slingshot and go slay a giant.

CAAAAANNNNONNNNNNN BAALLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!

Hey Daniel, double-dog dare your insecure coworkers, who also happen to be the king’s right-hand men, to throw you into a lion’s den.

CAAAAANNNNONNNNNNN BAALLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!

Hey Ezekiel, go hang out in a graveyard and try to wake up those dry bones.

CAAAAANNNNONNNNNNN BAALLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!

  

And then there was that one time, when the Son of Man came and did that Jordan River cannon ball. Three years after that, he changed the history of cannon balls. His cannon ball came in the form of outstretched arms and legs with nails through them. A deal-sealer that turned the chlorine into Living Water and saved you a place in the Kingdom-sized pool instead of getting a sunburn on the sidelines.

A promise that there’s always enough water and that the deeper you go down, the more refreshed you’ll be. 

I promised God I would run and jump with both feet into His promises that wrap around his 3 ½-year old greatest artwork yet.

It’s been 8 weeks since I’ve heard that little voice.

And some days I feel like I’m drowning from the waves inside of me. On those days, I honestly would rather just sit in the kiddie pool.

There are hundreds of children at our feedings every week with hidden stories and with toes that have never felt the cool waters of the pool. They’ve never had a chance to cannon ball and need an invitation to the pool party.

Look around where you are. Those children are around you too – whether they’re wearing business suits, football pads or the latest and greatest fashion statements.

Now that we know what we know. And now that Jesus came, we can't and we won't stop cannon-balling.

My arms and legs are tucked in tight to all that I can hold onto: His ways are higher than mine, His thoughts are higher than mine. (Isa 55:9)  And He works for the good of those that love Him. (Romans 8:28)

I’ve got water up my nose and a wedgie.

Yeah, I just said that.

It’s not comfortable to keep on cannon-balling.

But we’ve got a job to do that John remembered during Jesus’ first cannon ball:

“Prepare the way for the Lord,

make straight paths for him.

Every valley shall be filled in,

Every mountain and hill made low.

The crooked roads shall become straight,

The rough ways smooth.

And all mankind will see God’s salvation”

(Luke 3:4b-6)

Please pray for me to understand how to patiently cannon ball… how to keep on running and screaming and persevering in the times where HE says, “Wait” and during the times where I just feel sick from the waves.

And please, please, please, make a splash today!

Me and You and Him and Us

Me and You...

And Him...

And Us...

We're in the Home-building business. 

(I don't technically know how to build houses... I can't even keep the frogs and creepy-crawlers out of mine)

But Homes - the safety and security of being known, belonging and being valued where you are. That's what I'm talking about today. 

Me and You:

You've been my scaffolding support system.

You've been the mortar, helping me stick- stronger and more secure in every piece of the Kingdom God's let me get my hands on.

You've been the backyard fence, giving me a space to do cartwheels and explore every corner of this earthly backyard while never letting me get too far out of the boundaries of our real Home.

You've been the big red couch, cups of coffee and art on the refrigerator, making life here more beautiful. 

Him:

He's the cornerstone, the very foundation of it all.

He's the strength - the solid rock - and the only safe place to build our Hope on. 

He's the very definition of Home - the fulfillment of all that we dream of when we think of Home-building.

Us: 

We get to do it together. 

We get to seek Him and use what we find to build Home on earth. 

We get to do that together - me and You and Him.

And then we get to tell everybody else about it!

So...

Big announcement everyone...

Drum-roll please...

Now presenting a new-and-improved Ten Thousand Homes website to give you complete access to building Hope and creating Home in so many ways! 

Come and see pictures and videos of the place that I work and call home. Read the stories and ask God to show you the ways you are called to the Home-building business. And then please, please, puh-leeease share this website. We know that God wants to use this little corner of cyberspace to invite people in who don't know where they fit. 

This is your chance for the You and Him and Us part: Open the door and welcome someone into the story of Home. Post it on facebook, send out an email, and know that today YOU belong in the Home-building business. 

www.tenthousandhomes.org 

He planned His Family before the dust and the earth and the backyards ever existed. He always dreamt that you'd join in the fun!