I don’t have a lot to say about Addis Ababa.  I think, for the most part, that I am still trying to take it all in. Everything here is different. Some things are similar to the US, but nothing is quite the same. Everywhere you look, there is something new to understand, or process, or laugh at. It’s really quite difficult to put it into words. I could tell you about the smells, or the sounds, or the people that stare into our van full of “firenge” (white people). But none of it would really be able to sum up the full experience. The pace of life is different, the rules of life are different. It’s so easy for me to see American culture as the only one, or the best way of life. But the people here have a different type of joy than us. They live an unworried, unrushed life. As we drive through the city streets, surrounded by cars inches from us on every side, our driver Ishy spends more time conversing with us than he does looking at the road. The first time he was cut off by another car, I expected him to become angry as I would. I asked him if it bothered him and he said, “Sometimes I am angry on the inside but I just smile and wave”. (Now that’s some wisdom). As we continued through the busy, smoky, bumpy roads, he never got upset about other cars coming into our lane. It’s accepted that signs, lights, and lanes are just a suggestion and honking is only for saying hi to the car 6 inches from your own.

Our time with the kids at Bring Love In has been simple. I expected to feel like a savior to them, but the truth is that they just want to be with us. Due to the hard work of the staff at Bring Love In and the generosity of many people in America, they have most of their physical, emotional, and spiritual needs met. Their joy and excitement for life is inspiring. These kids were once orphans, most of them left in the dirt somewhere in Ethiopia, with hopes that they would be found and brought to an overcrowded government orphanage. Here, they have a family. They have a mom and an aunt and brothers and sisters. Their stories are so far removed from what we could even imagine. How do you respond when three seven year old boys come up to you yelling, “Josh! Josh! Josh!” in their thick Amharic accents, hugging your legs and holding both hands? What do you have to offer them besides sitting with them? What can you bring them that would change their situation or their scarred past? We are not here to fix them or be their savior. Don’t be deceived. We have a lot more in common with them than you might think. They want to be known and loved, same as the rest of us. Do not be deceived.

The people of Addis Ababa and Bring Love In have shown us so much love, kindness, and hospitality. They treat us like royalty. What an honor to be able to spend time with them.

I am grateful for the chance I’ve had to love and cherish God’s children here, and am better for the love I’ve been shown.

Gratefully,
Josh