The Speed of Growth

Happy Sabbath! This morning, Julia and I woke up at the home of our homestay host, Steve. Steve is a student of both the business and leadership and health classes, so while we knew him from class, we were excited to hear his story first hand. Upon arrival to his home, he introduced us to all of his neighbors and showed us our room (which was his room that he had given up for the night). We enjoyed a delicious dinner of nshima, beef, and tomato soup while we learned about his children, work, time in the army, his work with the Red Cross and the local Catholic Church. After dinner, he turned on his favorite reggae music from his home of Angola. A neighbor child, Hope joined us when he heard the music. When Hope peaked behind the curtain, Steve welcomed him with a classic Zambian “Feel Free,” and then turned to Julia and I and said, “Hope likes to come over when he hears the music. He knows he is welcome here.” Similar to Hope, we knew we were welcome at Steve’s house. We taught them Spoons and how to shuffle and they taught us an Uno-like game that we caught most of. Steve’s welcome was yet another radical display of hospitality that we have experienced during our time in Zambia. 

As I was brushing my teeth this morning outside of Steve’s house, another neighbor greeted me. We exchanged “chimene mwanes” and then “How are yous.” He responded as many Zambians do, “Fine.” 

When I first heard this over a week ago when I arrived in Zambezi, I must admit that I was taken aback. At home, when you say “I’m fine,” it usually means you are feeling any emotion but fine. But here, fine really does mean fine. An acknowledgement of the ordinary and a contentment with the present. 

Contentment has always been a hard practice for me. I am an 8 on the ennegram, and if I want something, there are very few things that can stop me from achieving that. And while my make-it-happen nature is one of my greatest strengths, it can also cause me to arrange my life and schedule in a way that feels like a never ending hamster wheel that I cannot escape. Getting on the plane in Seattle over two weeks ago, I resonated deeply with that image of a hamster wheel. 

Today, we attended Mass for the second time at Our Lady of Fatima Church (except for this time we enjoyed the 3 hour Corpus Christi service), which also means that today, in the Christian tradition, is the Sabbath- the call to both rest and relaxation, just as God did on the 7th day. 

The practice of Sabbath is something that has landed on my New Year’s resolution list for three years now. It is deeply challenging to my do-er nature. At home, I have attempted Sabbath more times than I want to admit. Speeding through the first six days of the week in order to “earn” my rest on the 7th. I quickly become frustrated when the constant noise and inner dialog refused to allow my heart to settle, to enjoy the true rest of the 7th day. 

In many ways the past week, has felt like an extended sabbath. Our pace of life here is hard to explain. While it is much slower than life at home, the days seem to come and go much faster. My metrics for a successful day look much different here – an intentional conversation while I work with a fellow zag to start a brasier, meeting a new shop owner in the market, and at least a couple hours of football and volleyball in the convent courtyard. 

Today is a true sabbath for me. The chore wheel has assigned me the task of writing the blog today. This means that my fellow zags are busy around me pumping water, preparing meals, doing the dishes, writing in the group journal, blessing our food, and today, the party planning committee (led by Katie) is busy making Jackson feel loved and celebrated on his birthday. The community we are participating in is one of deep dependence on one another for some of our most basic needs. Sabbath looks much different here not only because of the slower pace of life we have the opportunity to experience, but also because of the community we have created here in the convent. 

This is in sharp contrast to my life at home. My stubbornness rarely allows me to ask for help, especially not for my most basic needs. The practice of relying on this community is teaching me a lot about who I am and how I want to live in relation to others. In reflecting on my failed attempts of sabbath at home, I realizing that the resistance to dependence often prevents me from rest. My independence is the thing that stands between me and true sabbath. 

Yesterday, I was sharing these movements of my heart with Lucia on a morning walk by the river. Lucia (or our theologian as Dominic lovely dubbed her) wisely noticed this tension as the “Mary” and “Martha” within me. When we returned home, I began to explore this biblical tension because even after our 3 hour Mass this morning, I needed a bit of a refresher. 

“As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him.  She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

 “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10:38-42

In the middle of our conversation, we walked by two women. We greeted them, and introduced ourselves. Melody and Mary where there names. Lucia and I both smiled as we walked away. “Of course her name is Mary.” 

Zambezi is teaching me to live into my Mary, to “sit at the Lord’s feet listening.” Listening to the diverse stories of this community, listening to how this experience is changing the hearts of my fellow ZamZags, and listening to how God is moving in my own heart. 

“Emily, Emily, you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed – or indeed only one” – listening. 

One thing both Josh and past ZamZags have encouraged us to do during our time here is to lean into our senses. As I write this, I hear the sounds of children playing outside the convent, Jeff getting an early start on Jackson’s birthday dinner, many roosters and a very quiet living room with many reading Zags. The sounds of Zambezi and the convent have their own music to them, one that is becoming familiar and making our concrete space across the world feel like home.

“Hope likes to come when [it] hears the music. [It] knows [it] is welcome here.”

Zambezi is teaching me that “Fine” days teach us the most, that sabbath cannot exist without community, that my heart is most in need of “Mary” energy, and that a hopeful heart must first feel welcomed. 

Love to all my friends and family back home. I miss you all dearly and am praying for a fruitful sabbath for each of you today. 

Love, 

Emily Even ’24