Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if…

I didn’t daily drive my car past a straw-hatted man steering a team of ornery donkeys pulling a cart.

Droves of beautiful African children didn’t run wildly waving their hands and screaming, “Dumela!” every time I passed by.

I didn’t regularly confuse my cell phone vibrating with the lulling sound of the neighbor’s cows.

My nightly routine didn’t involve locking up the main house in it’s security “cage” and then proceeding to lock myself into my own safe “cage” across the yard.

I didn’t repeatedly scan the white walls of my cottage for critters of the creepy persuasion.

Going to the “Mall in Mochudi” didn’t consist simply of buying groceries and gas for my car.

I was not compelled to scrub my filthy feet immediately upon arriving home from church.

I didn’t have to legitimately avoid chickens, goats, and a plethora of other livestock who feel that the road is their territory.

I never had to use the phrase, ” I am going to town.” (As opposed to being in the village)

A day could pass by without having to repeatedly use the terms, “Premarital Sex,” “Risky Behaviours,” “STDs,” and “HIV/AIDS,” in front of a classroom of charming uniform-wearing children.

I wasn’t forced to master the slipper/Doom-Spray cockroach, poisonous spider, scorpion, (fill in nasty, disgusting creepy-crawler-invading-my-personal-space-HERE) death blow.

I didn’t daily ponder why the littles in the village consistently greet me in the HIGHEST-pitched nasally voiced, “Helllloooooooo!” (Do they think I sound like that? Sure hope not.)

I didn’t get to hang out every weekend with the most entertaining, about-to-rock-the-world-around-them-for-the-Kingdom-of-God youth.

I never got to see the love of God and the power of the resurrection transforming the lives of my precious church family.

Sometimes I wonder, what if… then it would not be the life that God has designed for me to live.
It wouldn’t be an adventure.
It would be a counterfeit to God’s best for me.
Forget that.

Mochudi, Botswana
According to the Five Senses

It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words. However, a captivating memory that instantly flashes a vivid picture of a time or a place that you once knew is often triggered by a sound, a smell, a delectable taste. I have found the myriad of memories stored in my mind like frames on a reel are captured as I experience life through the five senses God gave me. And so it is that I hope to take you on an adventure of my senses to my life living in the quaint little town (realistically a village) of Mochudi, Botswana where God has called my home. I want to share with you the things I have seen, smelled, heard, tasted, and felt over the past month and half. So here it is (in list form)…take a gander.

A Word from my Senses:

Sights of:
Kilometres and kilometres of green pastures, winding, pot hole-covered dirt roads, friendly faces of Mmas (Ma’s) and Rra (Ra’s) waving hello, tiny concrete homes, children flailing to wave frantically at the white people, birds flying and nesting in the roof nooks, cockroaches scurrying away from the spray of Doom, donkeys charging the vehicle, babies being carried on their Mama’s backs, everything being carried on peoples’ heads, children waiting impatiently for the gate to open for church, a small group of faithful church members gathering under the carport joyfully worshiping God, my cottage taking shape, breathtaking sunsets, God on the move in the bush of Botswana.

Smells of:
Burning rubbish and brush, cow manure, curry cooking, Joshua’s dirty diapers, wet concrete smelling fresh and metallic, children smelling of sweet dirt and half eaten sweets, the stench of malfunctioning septic tanks, baby shampoo, sugary sugary Sunday school juice, toddlers relieving themselves in the yard, body odor (not my own FYI), hair relaxant, and fragrant roses from the garden.

Sounds of:
Roosters incessantly crowing from 4am on, birds screeching loudly, prolonged echoes of donkeys hee-hawing, persistent cow bells warning of meandering cow families, Joshua crying, cooing, laughing with delight, neighbor children singing praise songs from church outside the gate, hammering, pounding, scrapping cement, skill saws cutting with precision, shovels flinging sand, rocks, soil, and cement, Tyler playing the guitar, squeaking doors, neighbors shouting greetings in Setswana, taxi drivers racing down the dirt road blaring techno music, soccer fans cheering, rain pounding vertically and horizontally, thunder shaking the house, and every bug known to man buzzing in my ear.

Tastes of:
Chocolate chip cookies, tacos, pizza, lasagna, boervoers (African sausage), Pita sandwiches, banana bread, fried chicken, rice, beef stew, pudding cake, boiled bread (African style), curry chicken, fat cooks filled with mince meat (fried bread with ground beef), guavas (glory, guavas!), African fusion sauce, brownies, chapati (fat tortillas), and dry, tasteless Sunday School biscuits.
(Ok, that is totally just yummy Jorgensen food for the most part!
Needless to say, I am eating quite well!)

Feelings of:
Soft baby skin oiled with lotion, rough heads covered with braids and coarse curls, tiny hands grasping mine, guitar strings digging grooves in my poor fingers, hand shakes of kind, sincere new friends, sand and dirt between my toes, clothes pins clamping on sopping wet clothing, rough concrete-covered walls soon to be my cottage, plastic church chairs lovingly arranged, wrinkled, peeling hands from dish washing, refreshing air con wind bringing relief in the heat, humidity to transform my hair into an afro, thorns jabbing into the soles of my feet, damp air in the stillness after the rain, joy and a bubbling brook of hope. Such great hope.

The adventure has begun.

As I flew into Botswana after 34 hours of international travel, I gazed out the window at my new home through eyes filtered with exhaustion and excitement. The rich, green rolling hills covered with lush trees and sprinkled with little round roofs brought to mind a life that I abruptly left behind just two years back. I have come to find in the past few years, that I was made to live in Africa. My heart is home on this continent I have grown to love and it is here where my spirit can breathe.

As my tiny plane touched ground, I felt the Lord ask me to open my eyes wider. The Africa I loved before seemed greener and more inviting out that little window. It is true that I love the landscape of Botswana, but inside I knew that God was asking me to open up my spiritual eyes wider. God has challenged me to look with His eyes upon the beaming smiles of children passing, the weary hands of hard working neighbors, and the wisdom found in the eyes of my elders. All I can say is that God is here. He is stirring something in this country that will make His Name great and His praises heard.

I can feel the seeds of His work breaking through the churned up soil in my own heart. The one thing I am SURE of is that this is HIS work. He has called me to be faithful and obedient to things that seem mundane and ordinary. He has promised in return to take the seeds sown in obedience and create a harvest. So here I am. Just one small child of the King seeking to see what my Father sees. I am humbled to be here and feel a slowness in my spirit to move in-step with the Spirit of God. This truly will be a great adventure and I am overwhelmed at the privilege of getting a front row seat.

Let the harvest begin.

Hope is such a simple word in a complicated world.
It changes things, and sees what God sees.

Hope is that precious little whisper that always gets the last word.
My name is Jenna Javens and I want to walk in hope, offering it to those around me. My first trip to the continent of Africa in 2002 gave me a new perspective on hope. It was then that Africa got under my skin and God created in me a strong call to return. After graduating from college in 2004, I moved to rural South Africa where I served for two years as a 5th grade missionary teacher to children of the Xhosa tribe. I became captivated by the South African people, delighted in their simplicity of life and grew in compassion for the struggles that their continent faces. After returning to the States in 2007, God placed an ache in my heart to serve in the country of Botswana. I carry a burden over the HIV/AIDS epidemic, the countless orphans, and the next generation of youth.

The beautiful country of Botswana has had four decades of a stable and progressing government and has created one of the most dynamic economies in Africa. In the face of the country’s successes, it also has one of the world’s highest known rates of HIV/AIDS infection. As of 2003, it is estimated that 350,000 people in the country are living with HIV/AIDS; 120,000 children under the age of 17 have lost their mother, father, or both to AIDS (2005). God has called me to bring hope and purpose to the next generation of youth in Botswana.
In January 2009, I will be moving to Mochudi, Botswana as a Foursquare Missionary. I will be the National Youth Coordinator at the Southern African Leadership Training School (SALT) and Bible college. My role will be working with youth through HIV/AIDS purity education, mentoring and discipleship, evangelism, outreach, church planting and eventually facilitating orphan care.

While the needs are great, I feel God’s call to Botswana with great anticipation. Please know I am humbled by your willingness to join me on this adventure. The path ahead leads to investment in the next generation in Botswana and will offer hope and change lives into eternity.