Shannon Holden Photography

“While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.” – from a poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Today is my daughter’s 4th birthday. I tucked her into bed tonight, kissing her soft curls and her tender cheeks as we said our prayers together. Each night, she thanks God for this day, for her family and friends. She asks Him to help her great-grandmother get better and to help her “have a wonderful sleep.” And each night, He does. She sleeps deeply in a warm, cozy bed, surrounded by beloved animals and dolls. Her parents are just across the hall, after all. She dreams about princesses and ponies. She doesn’t worry about bedbugs or the boogey man. She doesn’t have to. In her four tender years, she has never known true fear. Thank God.

But she has a sister on the other side of the world who probably worries every night about those things and more. Because those things are all too real in her world. Insects. Intruders. No warm, cozy bed … she sleeps on a cold, dirt or concrete floor. At 14 years old, she only recently got a blanket … quite possibly her first EVER. Mosquitoes invade as the sun sets, biting after dark and spreading their deadly malaria. And sadly, there are evils greater than malaria that may also creep in at night, and too many nights she probably sleeps alone with her young siblings while her parents are away for work. I don’t know what Fostina dreams about. I would probably be sad to know.

I ran into some of my Wiphan friends last week at a school event and they told me about this project coming up, called Operation Silent Night. I was so excited to hear about this and couldn’t wait to be a part of it. Then Andrea asked me if she could use some of the photographs from my recent trip, which of course meant the world to me. Now I can imagine some of these sweet faces I met in Zambia sleeping in peace. (If you haven’t already discovered Andrea’s blog, you must check it out. She is an amazing writer with an incredible heart. She tells the story of Operation Silent Night much more eloquently and in more detail than I can. You can watch the slideshow she created below.)

Operation Silent Night – Wiphan Care Ministries from Wiphan Care Ministries on Vimeo.

Please consider being one of the angels who delivers a peaceful, silent night to one of these children. For less than I spent today on ballet clothes for my daughter’s dance class, I can buy a foam mattress, sheets, a reed mat, a mosquito net, and a chain and lock for a child ’s door. Please visit Wiphan’s site to donate. I’ve seen these children, been in their homes. Words cannot express what a gift this will be for them.

Thank you, and much love,
Shannon

This has been my labor of love for the past several days. I finally have it finished and published. Just watching the images again brings tears to my eyes. I miss these precious widows and orphans so much. One usually goes on a mission trip to serve someone else in need, but it is so true … the person going on the mission is the one hugely blessed by the journey. These women and children changed my life forever.

The incredible music you hear in this slideshow is by Casey Darnell. The title of this post is borrowed from his lyrics. I am a huge fan, so I am honored and thankful for his permission to use his songs on the slideshow. Thank you, Casey!

Please visit www.wiphan.org to learn more about how you can help these women and children. To read and see more of our journey to Zambia, just click on Categories above and choose Africa for all the posts.

Wow, what a week. I seriously underestimated the effects of jet lag. Adding that to the emotions of my trip, and I was physically and emotionally drained last week. Thanks to my amazingly patient husband and kids, hours and hours of sleep, and some incredibly dear friends, I have felt better day by day in the last week.

I asked my friend Melissa if I could share the email she sent me. It came at just the right moment last week and helped me tremendously in processing the feelings I had after coming home.

Hi dear friend,
I’ve never come home from Africa, from the level of poverty that you witnessed.  But I’ve come home after living away from this place for months or a year somewhere completely different, and it was never easy.  When I moved home for the last time, in 2007 just before Randy and I got married, I sometimes thought my heart was going to break.  I was running around registering for expensive wedding gifts, and while I absolutely knew that this was where God wanted me and where I wanted to be, HERE just felt so very foolish to me sometimes.

My little coping strategy made everyone laugh, but it was serious to me.  I marveled at how quickly I could do laundry here, and would say, “God bless America!”  I was overwhelmed by the choices of just where we could eat for dinner – “God bless America!”  I had to keep repeating this to myself and out loud, to remind myself that there were many things here that were easier – sure – and that I now lived in a place with very fertile soil, literally and figuratively.  I had to tell myself many times that this place was not better or worse, that the OTHER place wasn’t better or worse – just very, very different.

I don’t know why God picked me to be born here, to my parents, and some other girl to be born in eastern Europe.  That puzzled me for a while.  But I came to realize that God’s grace is all over – a great “fairness” leveler.  A sweet layer of God’s grace was spread all over the orphans you met, through you and others at Wiphan.  He has allowed you to see his grace in action somewhere else, and it has broken your heart.  That’s AWESOME.  And you got to be a part of it!  His grace is in action right here, too – not through our wealth (don’t you wonder just a little if our wealth is truly a blessing after what you’ve seen?), but through each other.  Just like in Africa.  And you’re a part of that HERE more than you can imagine.

I received another email during my trip that brought tears to my eyes. It is from a very sweet client and friend, who also gave me permission to share it here …

Just wanted to let you know that I am thinking about you and following your blog.  The girls are following it with me and have been very touched by all of the pictures.  As you might imagine (since I am certain you will be answering the same ones for your daughter), they are asking a zillion questions.  The picture of Fostina’s house really shocked them with the blanket to sleep on the floor, and we talked for about an hour afterwards about how so many children aren’t lucky like they are (why doesn’t she have a bed, mommy?  why is her house dirty?  why doesn’t it have a potty?  where is her mommy?).

In honor of your experience and because you have moved us and the girls so deeply with your words and your pictures, we would like to sponsor a Wiphan child.  So, if you happen to come across any in your travels who touch you and are in need of a sponsor, please let me know.  I would absolutely love to find a child for us to sponsor that you have actually met and hugged for us so that you can tell the girls about him or her and where s/he lives.

Both of these emails, and others I received offering prayers and encouragement, made my experience in Africa even more meaningful. It helped me realize that I wasn’t just traveling with the 9 people on the team, but with hundreds of friends who were invested in my time there, invested in the lives of those I met through their prayers and support. I am so blessed to be united with loving hearts like these, who traveled with me in spirit, and who care as I do to share their abundant blessings and make a difference for someone less fortunate. Thank you all.

If you would like to sponsor a Wiphan child, please click here.

I’m going back today and adding images to my posts from abroad, where my computer troubles and sporadic internet access got in the way of sharing the photographs along the way. I hope you will go back and see some of the beautiful faces I had the pleasure to see.

I’m also wrapping up a slideshow from my journey. I’ll be posting that here as soon as it is ready!

Much love,
Shannon

We are home. Over 26 hours of travel from Livingstone, Zambia to Atlanta, Georgia. The sun chased us home, finally catching up with our plane as we landed just before dawn yesterday. To see my children running toward me at the airport, to hug my husband at last, was exhilarating. And yet, to say that I am exhausted is an understatement. I know all of our team is. I finally crashed into bed about 6 p.m. yesterday and slept solid for 12 hours.

But even more than my physical exhaustion, my emotional exhaustion has me drained. I had hoped to write a moving, maybe even inspiring post today, summarizing my experience in Africa. But now I know that I can’t summarize it. I can’t even put words together this morning, not the words I’d like. All I can say is that I am still processing. I arrived home with an overwhelming mix of emotions, some I never expected to feel, and my heart is sore this morning. It has been broken, not by someone, but for someone. Here I am, home with my husband and kids, home where I should feel safe, even elated, where I should feel like “me”. But I’m finding that I don’t know who Me is. I knew this trip would be life changing. I naively failed to realize how that change would leave me feeling so unfamiliar within my own skin.

I scheduled these next couple of days off work, thank God. I will be spending them with my family. I’m not checking emails or returning voice mails until Wednesday. Clients and friends, I thank you for your patience. I just need this time to rest, recharge, and redefine. The staff, women, and children at Wiphan have a responsorial saying. “God is good all the time … all the time, God is good.” I’m focusing on that this week. It certainly has new meaning for me.

For now, I can say this:

The world got much smaller for me these past ten days, and God got much, much bigger. I will never be the same. Life will never be the same.

The stars over Zambia.