Phillip and his God.

The last few weeks of life in South Africa have been very hard.  The grief has come in like a tsunami that bit me out of nowhere and left a mess behind.

It started rather obviously, actually.  Early one Monday morning while driving to work I saw an amazing sunrise over the Helderberg mountains.  I had one of this deeply profound moment of knowing God loves me and others with the most perfect love.  It was such an overwhelming feeling that I phoned Simon when I got to work to tell him about it.

As I hung up the phone, a message came into my Living Grace whatsapp group, marking the first of many tragedies:

--one of our dear clients had hung himself the day before, leaving his newlywed wife and their 2 month ok'd baby behind.

--another client, due to become a proud father over the weekend prior had watched as his beloved gave birth to baby, blue and brain dead from malpractice at the government maternity ward they were delivering in.  The baby, Caleb, died that next day.

--news spread that afternoon that one of my dearest friends, and another girl who is a fellow missionary, both lost babies at various stages of pregnancy.

--that Saturday, one of our coworkers'sisters died suddenly and another's sister-in-law died of TB, leaving two babies behind. She was 29.

--another dear friend and former colleague lost a job he has poured heart and soul into for over a decade.  I've had the privilege of working alongside him for nearly 6 years and to think he has been cut off so suddenly breaks my heart.

A variety of other tragedies around me followed.  In addition, many of our current clients were caught lying, living double lives, hiding whole aspects of their life that are not healthy for them, & seemingly unremorseful for that fact.  It had been blow after blow, and as I write this I feel more tired and sad than I have in a very long time.

The word "powerless" comes to mind.  It is a key concept in addiction recovery:  "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change...".  But under the weight of all that had unfolded, I resent that I am powerless over the pain experienced by those I love.   I know serving God is not always about seeing the glory, and there are "valleys of the shadow of death."  Without needing to fight them off, I acknowledge it's where I find myself today.

One of my lectures at Living Grace is one I created around the concept of grief and recovery.  Today those concepts of letting go made sense to me, as I woke up with swollen eyes and heavy heart.  My quiet time was puny.  At 7am, I thought "how am i going to get through this day?"   I dragged myself to work, yawning all the way.

And then, in walked "Phillip" (not his real name).  Phillip graduated in February of this year.  When he came to us in late 2013, he was already famous.  His wife had graduated our program a year prior, and had talked often about the tragedies of her own life as we and her husband used drugs while raising their 6 children.  She had described the depth of her husbands addiction to tik (crystal methamphetamine):  the darkness, the crime, the poverty, the despair and hopelessness.  They too had lost a baby; only it was a tragic result of their own negligence.  To be honest, the grief around this family seemed so great it scared me, and Pbillip sounded like one of "those" people who would just never come right.

So when he walked into our building in late 2013, tall, frail, quiet--none of us knew what to do with him.  He had never learned to read, so he couldn't sing along from our songbook, take notes in class, or complete each days homework.

But Phillip proved us all wrong.  And thank God he did.  Today he celebrates 188 days clean and sober. He's working to support his family, not stealing DVD players and toasters for a quick sell at the local Cash Converters.  His smile is the most precious thing you can imagine, probably because I know what's behind it.  Within Phillip you will find a heart of gold and a simple faith.  For Phillip, it's not complicated...this whole recovery business.  When I asked him how he does it, he just flashed that winning grin and said "God helps me".

I sat talking to Phillip a bit this morning.  I needed something from him, perhaps a reminder why I love this work after all the ups and downs, why I believe in it so strongly.  Phillip reminded me that God is enough.  No matter what the tragedy, God is enough.  As I continue on in this country, that truth becomes more and more undiluted.  He really is enough. 

Thank you Phillip.

(Phillip* holding the canvas he signed upon graduating. His is the very first fingerprint of 2014).