The Retreat

We are so very grateful for y’alls prayers, emails of encouragement, calls to check in, and faithful friendship in this past week especially. We have received each one of them and God has really used each one of you to show us more of Himself during this season.

The week has just about finished up, and after much prayer, we have arrived at a decision. This past week has been one of the hardest for us. But once we made this decision, we felt a wave of peace wash over us, like a faint light has started to appear in the midst of the darkness of this season. And we know that is the Holy Spirit. So here goes:

We will be boarding a plane in just a week and a half, on March 31, to come back to the States for a month and a half, to return back in Zambia on May 15.

This decision wasn’t an easy one to arrive upon, but we truly feel it is God’s will and grace for us right now. We know that we have been called to Zambia and it is our hearts’ deepest desire to be here for the long haul. But this season of immense difficulties brought us to a place of feeling backed into a wall of either leaving completely, or sticking it out with an all-too-real possibility of burnout at any moment. God in His great grace showed us another way, His way, to be able to stay while still tending to the heaviness on our souls.

We have felt in our hearts that this is our retreat. The definitions of retreat are the following: a strategic withdraw; a place of refuge; to withdraw especially for shelter; the act of withdrawing as into safety or privacy.

Our souls are tired and wounded from so many things that have occurred this season. We are physically okay, but we feel God is calling us to retreat. To take a step back to let Him care for our souls. We really feel this is a strategic withdraw, one that will only equip and empower us to come back stronger, healthier, and readied to be effective in our lives here in Zambia and with Clothed in Hope. We are not giving in or giving up. We are gaining strength. We are resting. We are shutting off to allow the Savior of our souls to heal and restore us. We could continue trekking on our own strength (the little that’s left), but that would only lead to burnout, bitterness and a whole lot of mess. A withdraw isn’t a forfeit- it’s a strategic move to come back to fight difficulties harder than ever to proclaim the victory of Christ in every aspect of our lives.

Our Abba Father is saying Come, find rest in Me. Let Me heal you. Let Me restore you. I love you not for what you do but for who you are. And I find you worthy in Christ.

We’re leaning on Luke 22:39-46 when Jesus withdrew during danger of his arrest and impending crucifixion. In the midst of pain and the ultimate battle (of which He knew of the Victory, even), He went away to be alone. He didn’t work or preach, but He just was still and silent in the presence of His Father. This passage also shows that Jesus in His aloneness was visited by an angel for strength.

Now we know we ain’t Jesus, but we are so grateful for this example of withdrawing in the face of danger, not out of shame or giving in or forfeit, but so that Jesus could be encouraged by the only One who could do that for Him- God our Father.

Our time at home will consist of 2 seasons:

1. Sabbath rest, retreat, withdrawing, shutting off for the entire month of April. No work, no emails, weeks without social media (gasp). All so that we can be alone with the only One who knows the pain we feel and also gives the healing and comfort we so desperately need. We are excited and expectant for this season to just rest and be for our future health, sustainability, and longevity with our lives here in Zambia. To say this retreating is much needed would be the understatement of the century.

2. Support raising. Another large part of the difficulty of this season has been our financial situation. We are trusting God in the desert but are continuing to pray for the rains of provision to come down. We are currently sitting at 35% of our monthly support goal and do not currently have enough coming in monthly for both food and rent. We have never been without a meal and we do have a roof over our head, so we will continue to gratefully trust God to provide knowing that He will never fail us. We need to spend some of our time at home support raising, because it’s not just about our financial situation, but it’s about inviting others into the Kingdom work that God is doing through lives here in Zambia. We cannot tell you how many times we have powerfully seen this to be true, and it just excites us so much to get to share the opportunity with others to be involved in life change of Zambians 6,000 miles away.

With this quickly-approaching season of America life for us, we do have some pretty big needs we would like to share with y’all:

1. Prayers: Please pray for our month of rest and healing, that God would meet us in our hurt and difficulty and that we would come to understand His love in a whole new light. Pray for a stillness in our busy spirits in a world that tells us we are as important as our busyness and schedules. For me (Amy), this will be the hardest- to just be silent and see that as productive in the long-run knowing that time in the presence of Jesus is never time wasted. Please also pray for our time support raising, that those two weeks would help us become fully funded, that God would provide people with willing hearts who want to partner with us in all that God is doing here. Pray for miraculous provision that would allow us to really see Zambia as our long-term home, a place we can let our roots grow deep and raise a family one day.

2. Funds: Our plane tickets home cost us $3529. We also will incur many expenses while at home with traveling for fundraising, food, other costs of living. We are inviting you to be a part of this season of rest for us, and would be richly blessed by any amount you feel led to give to cover these costs of travel and such that we are in great need of. Any amount would be so helpful. You can donate to either of us for our expenses here: www.clothedinhope.org/our-team.

3. Supporter referrals: If you know of anyone at all who would like to host a fundraising event, or who would like to meet with us to hear about our work and God’s work here in Zambia, we would love to chat with them! Just shoot us an email and we would love to work something out: amywbardi@gmail.com or wyatt.bardi@gmail.com. We will be in Raleigh, Florence, Columbia, Charleston, Brevard, and Aiken for sure, but would gladly add on a few more cities to our support raising road trip.

Or if you, yourself, feel like it’s time to join the Bardi Party adventures in Zambia and be a part of what God’s doing in and through us by grace, we would love for you to join our support team today with a monthly donation commitment. Like I said before, we are currently living off of 35% of our support goal, so grateful for all those who have chosen to join us, and excited to welcome many more people to our team for us to become fully funded and fully able to stay in Zambia for years to come. God is doing huge things here and He is inviting YOU. 

----You can sign up for monthly donations by clicking the “Donate” button and checking the “Recurring” box here: www.clothedinhope.org/our-team

Thank you for your support as we prepare for our retreat to the States. And thank you for caring about us as people. We can’t wait to share with y’all all that God does in this season and are so grateful for this opportunity.

We love y’all,

A&W

“Resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world. And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to His eternal glory in Christ, will Himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. To Him be the dominion forever and ever. Amen.”

1 Peter 5:9-11

The Battle

We have a pretty big announcement to share with y’all. After months of prayer, we have felt God’s calling and leading for Wyatt to begin working full-time with Clothed in Hope (as Zambia Operations Director) after the conclusion of his internship.

We prayed, we sought counsel from those who we respect, we shared with friends to get feedback, we prayed some more, we wrestled with wondering if we were truly hearing God’s call, and landed at yes, we have.

Instead of the anticipated great celebration and much happiness, we are hurting. We know that past blog posts have been light and silly, and it’s not to say we haven’t experienced joy, because we certainly have. We feel like Zambia is our home. We love the people, our mission together, the little quirks even. But for the longest time we couldn’t come up with the words to share with y’all to explain how difficult this season has been for us.

Words are still lacking, but time is up. We are hurting, and this is difficult. This season has been anything but easy. This season has been the hardest of our lives.

Now we know that a calling of God is met with great opposition, and that’s a good thing. But if we’re being honest, which we want to be, right now it is just hard. We have experienced more opposition, more oppression, more injustice, more hardship than we ever saw possible for this season. Ones we trusted have turned on us to leave us at a very difficult place. We have been betrayed, kicked to the curb, taken advantage of. 

This all probably sounds vague, as there are too many details and intricacies to even dive into the meat of the issues surrounding us. We will say one thing- we are in the middle of a battle. A battle that wears at our souls each day. A battle with a known Victor whose Truth we cling to. A battle testing our endurance, our strength, our courage. A battle we weren’t prepared to fight but fight we will. A battle that challenges everything we know about life, our calling, our Victor.

A hard battle.

We know the outcome will be okay, as God will never leave us nor forsake us and that is good.  We know that we need to have faith to endure our current struggles. We know and trust every Word of God that He gives us. But some days (many days) it’s difficult to choose those truths over our feelings. It’s difficult to put fear and sadness and anger aside to submit to the journey God has us on. We’re just being real here, and we would go as far as to assume that we aren’t the only ones who struggle with this.

So, friends, we share all this and we say all of this because we need your help. We are inviting you to join our ranks in our battle against the opposition and discouragement we face. The confusion we feel. The financial hardship that brings us to a crossroads. We are tired, we are hurting, we are weak. We need your prayers, for you to join us in kneeling at the feet of our King Jesus to ask for strength, endurance, and most of all discernment and clarity for the next steps we should take. We will be making a pretty (very) weighty decision just one week from today. And even though you don’t know exactly what that is, we ask that you pray knowing that God knows every detail of what’s going on.

We are blessed to have people who care. We apologize for leaving you out of our battle for so long, but we are grateful to invite you in today. Thank you for caring for us and for loving us in such a way that shows us (and the world) the very heart of Jesus.

Blessings to you all,

A&W

Top 10 List

So in celebration of our 2-month mark of living in Zambia as newlyweds we wanted to share a top 10 list with y’all. More specifically, the Top 10 Things That Should Bother Us But Thankfully Don’t Anymore.

10. These terrible screeching noises we hear at night. We thought it was an animal dying but when it happened at the same time every night, we googled to find out it’s probably a Barn Owl. The sounds that used to keep us up at night (and terrified) are now muffled out by the best deal we’ve found so far- a $14 fan at a Walmart equivalent. Now the sweet hum drowns out the sounds of screeching owls and wild dogfights.

In the continent's most expensive city, we found this steal/treasure/gem

9. Downpours at any moment of the day. It used to be a bit overwhelming when the skies opened up to dump out a flash flood. But after we realized crazy rain = no internet, no meetings, no one daring the roads, our attitudes changed. Yay for a chance to breathe and chill out in the middle of the day.

Rains are much more aggressive than they appear in photo.

8. Moldy cheese. Stop reading here if you’re easily grossed out with food sanitation. Moldy cheese used to feel like a moment of great defeat, but when we realized the magical trick of just cutting off the moldy part for it to look as good as new, everything changed. The $10-15 investment in a block of cheese felt more doable knowing it could even outlast its inevitable meeting with the Mold Monster.

7. Being called a muzungu (foreigner). Honestly, it’s a bit tiring to always stick out and for children to constantly shout out at you as you travel through the compound areas. But if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. So if people think we’re something different, that we shall be, and we shall wave at and greet any child who wants to scream “MUZUNGU” at the top of his lungs inviting 20+ of his closest friends to also do the same.

We don't have any photos of children yelling at us, so we figured a photo starring the "muzungus" themselves would suffice for this one. 

6. The constant company of large flat spiders (we’re talking up to 3”wide) and miniature geckos in our home. We’ve taken more of a Charlotte’s Web approach to these little critters. Since we know they won’t bite and we don’t have any chance of dying in their presence, why not keep them around? Maybe they’ll choose to battle it out with our enemy mosquitos some day.

He's only hiding because it's daytime. Come night time, this guy isn't the least bit shy, and he even invites his friends.

5. Laundry. UPDATE: My parents surprised us with the most gracious gift of a dryer after reading the horrific tales of the Putzi Fly in my previous post, and after I sent my mom a photo of the LIVE Putzi Fly in my kitchen where I was drying a load of laundry during the rains (little jerk). Laundry is now 1000x better, even enjoyable and worth celebrating to have good smelling clothes, larvae-free, without a scratchy stiffness, all in a reasonable amount of time. Monumental changes around here for real.

The Lifesaver 3000 aka the most beautiful dryer in the world.

4. Variety of food and the outrageous prices of such. So muffin mix costs $10 to make 4 of them. Cheese, as you read, might as well be bricks of gold. Olive oil kills us at $30 a bottle. And there were strawberries on sale for $21 last week. Get the picture? To picture it fully, realize that we’re on a very tight newlywed/support raised budget. Ain’t nobody got money for that. So instead of living in shock, we now peruse the grocery aisles as if it was a museum, a form of entertainment, while we stick to a pretty strict vegetarian diet (not because we don’t like meat, but because it costs entirely too much and can be pretty sketchy).

No this isn't an ant farm in Tupperware, it's our new fave: Lentils and Brown Rice

3. Ants. Not just an ant problem, but an ant infestation, outbreak, any other synonym you prefer. They find the smallest crumbs in the farthest parts of our pantry. They call all their friends for an ant party. And the time we used to invest in killing them all via paper towels and water is now spent resting as we just let them be. Once they eat all the food we left behind, they’ll leave. And that will be that. Paper towels and water are saved, and these ants live the high life.

They were all camera shy today, but picture these few guys times 3000 and you get the picture.

2. Driving on washed out roads. With it being rainy season, muddy roads dry into horribly bumpy dirt roads with potholes big enough to eat your car. This high stress event has transformed into an adventure for us. We like to picture it as an urban safari, saving hundreds more dollars on some good ole dirt road fun. There aren’t cheetahs or elephants to look out for, but there are some pretty crazy chickens running around. And the adventure can also double as a free massage when the roads are really destroyed. Not so bad… until we have to pay to replace the shocks. But until that day, we will adventure on.

1. Our own body odor. It’s hot here. We don’t have air conditioning. We both work outside a lot of times. So we smell. That’s all there is to it. I used to try to spritz myself with some expensive perfume I brought over, but as I saw dollar bills flying out with each spray, I quickly abandoned that habit. Now that Wyatt smells, I’m allowed to too. And our clothes smell until that Monday laundry day rolls around. The sniff test is often used here, even for date night clothes. Gross? Yea probably. But again, if you can’t beat ‘em (the heat), join ‘em (and stink).

Sniff test: Check. With a passing grade, this swanky shirt was approved for last night's date night.

Cheers to 2 months of Zamlife with a few lessons learned a ton more to go. Same rule applies with our 4-month young marriage, as we don’t quite have a top 10 on that one yet. That post is sure to come, though, as we’re told we’ll become experts in how to be married by month 6, right?! ;)

A more serious life-update post is in the works and will actually be coming soon so be on the look out for that. But until then, enjoy this silly one and have the most wonderful Sunday.

Joy to you all,

Amy (and Wyatt)

Miracle Babies

One of the ladies of the skills training program, one of my best friends, Margret, has been pregnant with twins for quite some time now. She didn’t tell many people. Most everyone believed there was just one baby in there. Margret didn’t keep it to herself for fun, but because she knew how high of a risk it was to deliver twins here.

I drove Margret to an appointment at a major local hospital last Friday to make sure everything was okay and to make a plan as she was already past-due with her twins. The doctor didn’t do any tests other than take her weight and blood pressure, and sent her on her way to wait it out a bit longer. The doctor did, however, inform her that the babies weren’t in position to deliver, but gave no alternative other than to come back next week.

Fast forward to this Friday. Again, at 6:30am, I picked up Margret and Elina to go to her appointment. She was one day away from being 10 months pregnant with these babies (talk about STRONG!). I have hospital heebee-jeebees* so I waited elsewhere until I received the call to pick them up. Margret’s appointment took longer than usual, a possibly great sign that the doctors were also feeling the urgency of the situation. Margret walked toward the car, with defeat and discouragement across her face. She sat down with her appointment papers and reports, with the word “URGENT” written across the top and looked up at me to say, “I’m sad.”

Margret then told us that the student doctors examined her to find that the babies still weren’t in position, and wouldn’t be able to move to become ready. They ordered an emergency ultrasound and a c-section that would take place on Tuesday, because they were too busy this weekend. A woman 10 months pregnant with twins and complications, and they were too busy. They also gave Margret a “heads up” that since she had to wait a few more days, it was highly likely that she would lose at least one baby, but they couldn’t take her earlier. So of course this made Margret sad. Discouraged. Scared.

It was time to make a decision. Proceed with trusting these doctors to wait until Tuesday, or listen to the voice of God that was cautioning us to take her elsewhere. This hospital has been known for some pretty terrible treatment of the poor. Women I know personally have suffered greatly here, and have even lost children here. (If you want to know these stories, feel free to shoot me an email, but I warn you they are incredibly difficult and shocking).  If such horrific things have happened with normal pregnancies, what would happen with Marget’s twin complications? In a split second, we stepped out in faith for Margret to take another path for the sake of her life and the lives of 2 future world changers.

And we drove to another hospital, a respected hospital with excellent care, but one completely unaffordable to the majority of the Zambian population. Margret was rushed in for her emergency ultrasound for her to discover even greater complications that were threatening the life of her babies, complications undetected by the previous hospital.

Margret’s doctor at this new hospital ordered a c-section for that day. It couldn’t wait. And she shouldn’t have been told to go on this long in her pregnancy. The babies had grown to be so big that they were squishing each other, and indeed their lives were at risk every day that passed. We were reassured that right now the babies were healthy, that Margret was also healthy, but time was of utmost importance.

With God’s great provision, Margret was able to move forward with her paperwork, was admitted to rest for the afternoon while Elina and I rushed around town to get her bag, diapers, bottles, formula, all the essentials. Margret’s husband stayed back to gather his community to pray, as it’s not always culturally expected for the husband to be present for the birth of the babies.

Before we left, Margret’s hands were shaking. The normally chatty, incredibly positive, smile-wearing Margret was in a different form. She asked for the surgery to be delayed, she prayed that she would go into labor, anything but surgery that day. It all happened so fast, and when I returned to check on her (after fighting the fiercest storm I’ve ever seen in Zambia, might I add), she had changed. Nerves still were there but peace was greater. Margret said to me, “I’m not afraid anymore. God has given me peace.” In the time we were gone running errands, Margret kneeled before the feet of Jesus with all of her fears, all of her worry, and found His comfort. She looked at me with vulnerability and honesty in her eyes and said, “I didn’t know what I was going to do,” as she went to the hospital with less than $1 in her wallet. She wasn’t prepared financially to deliver that day, and surely not to afford a surgery. Before all was figured out, she felt helpless, afraid, trapped in the seemingly impossible situation. But God. But God provided richly to give His prized daughter some great care. And after that moment of seriousness, we giggled over her fashionable hospital gown, watched some tv, and ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the adorable baby clothes that my fashion merchandising self had the pleasure of arranging into the bassinets.

And before we knew it, we watched as Margret was rolled down the hallway for a c-section to be performed by a doctor who greatly cared about her and the lives of the babies. Me, Elina, and her mother, Emeli. Wyatt met us there with more needed supplies, and we all sat down for a quick dinner to make the hour-and-a-half surgery time pass by quicker, as it was also our first real meal of the day in the midst of the busyness. We tried to force down some meat pies while our nerves ran wild and so many scenarios played out in each of our minds. Then we sat. For what seemed like an eternity. One of the nurses passed by and casually said, “Oh, the babies have already come out and they’ve been waiting in the room. You can go see them.”

WHAT?!! We literally cheered out loud, clapped, and ran to the room where they were. “The babies.” Those words kept echoing in my mind. Two babies. Alive. Healthy. And mama, out of surgery, and healthy. No complications, nothing. Everyone was completely healthy and we were completely ecstatic.

Just that morning Margret told us with tears in her eyes that she would most likely lose one baby, one of the babies she’s carried for 10 months now, she’s prayed over, she’s picked out clothes for. And now, we were looking at BOTH babies, identical twin girls with heads full of hair and the most beautiful faces, breathing fine, crying well.

Praise God. Praise God who is still in the business of performing miracles, and allowed us to witness one heck of one on Friday evening around 7pm.

The operating doctor who ordered the surgery did so knowing she would be needed until 5am through the night, a full 24 hours after she arrived at work. But she was committed to providing excellent healthcare for her patients, something I realized is quite a precious commodity around here. She didn’t judge a case based on socioeconomic status. She viewed the case through the lenses of humanity, with everyone worth quality treatment. And those babies and Margret sure have been given the star treatment.

Margret wasn’t able to see the babies until we went back to visit yesterday morning. Her husband came along with her sister to relieve her mom of night duty. Wyatt went over to Margret’s husband to find him rocking one of the babies in a corner of the room with tears in his eyes, repeating the words “Praise God, Praise God” as he, too, knew of the miracle that happened on February 28. Margret cuddled each of her babies and said they are to be called the Chikondi Babies until they’re named. How stinkin' cute is that?!

As we entered the shared room with 2 beds (quite common) that morning, we noticed that another woman had arrived since Margret was given her bed. The woman greeted us when we came in, but there was no bassinet at her bedside. Margret’s husband, handed off his own newborn baby to Margret’s sister to talk with the other woman. She had just miscarried 7 months into her pregnancy, and she was heartbroken. In that moment, Margret’s husband just stood by her to comfort her, praying over her, being there with her. When it seems he would’ve been justified to only pay attention to his wife and babies, Margret’s husband stepped out to share Jesus with this woman.

And that’s what makes me so incredibly grateful for this family. The Phiri family is a family of sacrificial encouragers, faithful friends, and truly the hands and feet of Jesus. These two little girls are surely a blessing to us all, serving as a testimony of the grace and miracles of God, but I think they’ll find that they are the blessed ones to be raised up in a home that truly loves and fears God in all they do.

This weekend has been tiring, challenging, emotional, and a million more emotions/adjectives (and I can't even imagine how Margret feels!). But above all it has been a joy. God has made life from a prognosis of death. He has brought two beautiful girls into this world. He has encouraged and uplifted the soul of a discouraged and scared mama. And He has let Wyatt and I be a part of it all, taking family members to and from the hospital, picking out the world’s cutest newborn baby dresses, and cuddling two incredible miracles. We don’t deserve it for a minute, but are so very grateful that God has let us be a part of our friends’ lives here in Zambia, to share in more than a skills training program- to share in life and the blessing of community.

And I wouldn't dare wrap this up without some photos of the world’s cutest “Chikondi Babies”

Nervously waiting for these to be filled up with 2 Phiri babes on Friday afternoon from what was just supposed to be another check-up in the morning. One exciting day!

Me, Elina, and Emeli (Margret's mother) waiting & waiting...

The Phiri's Chikondi Babies! 2 identical twin girls

Margret wanted to pretend she was sleeping for this one. But she is still one beautiful mama!

Candid from Wyatt. I am one proud Auntie and obsessed with these little miracle nuggets!

Margret's incredibly sweet sister who has been caring for the babies during the daytime while Margret recovers. 

Tell me these aren't the cutest babies you've ever seen!!

Love,

Amy (& Wyatt)

*(P.S. about those hospital heebee-jeebees… For those of y’all who know me really well, you know about my intense anxiety in medical practices that started around the time I passed out when my middle school decided it would be a good idea to give shots in the counselors office. Yea, not so great. There began this crazy fear/anxiety any time I enter or come near a medical building. I even passed out at the eye doctor, the EYE DOCTOR, for them doing nothing but looking at my eyes. Embarrassing? Yes. But all secrets are out. So when I took Margret to the other hospital, I knew I couldn’t just sit in the car when much of the information was being relayed through me to Margret to understand all the procedures involved and the urgency of the matter. I walked through those doors and prayed “God give me some supernatural strength and please don’t let me pass out.” This sounds lame, probably, but ask anyone who has escorted me to a doctor’s office- the fear is real. And in a day full of miracles, God did another. Surrounded by the smells of rubbing alcohol (a great trigger) and lab coats, and scary equipment and sick people, I was fine. Better than that, I felt great. I felt liberated from my fear, like another miracle happened that day. I have strolled in and out of the hospital many times since, walking to Margret’s room to find her stabbed with a million lines, but I haven’t felt a tinge of that fear. Who knows if it’s just for this weekend or if the liberation is here to stay, but for now I am so incredibly grateful that I could be present for my dear friend’s big day. That I would be able to rock her babies while she recovers, and that I could stay strong enough to even bring others back and forth, after I haven’t been anxiety-free in medical situations in over 10 years. This could be a blog post all of its own but I’ll leave it here with a big ole Praise Jesus. …And hope you can still look at me the same knowing I usually get light-headed when anyone even starts mentioning needles and gross things like that. Just kidding about the last part, kinda. But for real, praise Jesus.)