Sticks and Stones

     I've been called a lot of things in my life. When I was a baby my Mother called my "Little Lamb." My Dad called me "Drewski." I'm sure my siblings had names for me but I've blocked those from memory.
     One year for vacation we went to Virginia beach. That day there happened to be some military lifeguards off duty and they were throwing children into the ocean. Throwing probably doesn't do it justice. They were Launching kids six or seven feet up into they air where we could land safely in the waves. Because I was the youngest and also the smallest and lightest I was thrown higher than anyone else. Imagine a 50 lbs kid being launched by four lifeguards who would have put David Hasselhoff to shame. My family has pictures of me 12 feet above the waves, laughing and screaming each time. After that they called me "Sky-Willie."
    In high school, I was called "God Hog." My classmates would tease me that I spent so much time talking with God that nobody else could get a word in edge wise. Some how what they meant as a tease I took as a badge of honor. 
    When I was traveling to my sisters in Uganda, I remember driving  through the mountains and across the valley children came out of the houses yelling, "Muzungu, Give me money." The only English they knew. Muzungu is what they call white people. Here in Guinea the kids yell, "Toubabu, BonJour." The only French they know.
     Today I was called something new and will always remember it.  I spent the morning shooting in Leferani a local village. The classic scenery of locals cooking, building hits and in just living kept me constantly behind the lens trying to capture every image. Our host for the day, made the comment that I was a Deaf, Mute because he hadn't heard me say anything. That struck me. A deaf mute. I've never been called that before, but I like it.    

Just think ... a Deaf and Mute Storyteller.     

Yeah, I like that.     

Hold the Rope

I was recently talking with a mentor of mine, sharing with him about my mission adventure.  As our conversation was coming to a close, He ran into his office rummaged around and after several minutes returned with one foot length of white rope.  Handing me the rope, he must have seen the confusion on my face and began this story.

    “There once was a young missionary who left for a foreign field full of excitement, energy, and enthusiasm.  He told his church, friends and family that he couldn’t wait to come back and tell them all about the lives that were going to be changed. 

     Things didn’t go according to that plan for the young missionary.  Several years later he returned to the church that had sent him off.  He returned broken, a failure. His faith and love had been replaced by bitterness and resentment. In secret he snuck into the prayer and sat in the back unnoticed.  He remained there silently until one member of the prayer circle invited their “new guest” to share.

    Dejected but feeling spiteful the man stood and told his story.  He explained how his early ambitions had been blocked first one way and then another till eventually he lost all desire to minister.  He told of the human depravity and hatred that many had targeted at him.  These trials had beaten him so badly that he gave up on the mission, the church, the faith, and God.  Finally he close with this accusation, “You don’t know me, even now after hearing what has happened you don’t realize that I was your missionary.  When you sent me out, you said, ‘We’ll be praying for you.  We’ll hold our end of the rope and lift you up to the God.’ You dropped the rope.”

    My mentor looked me in the eye and handed me the rope.  “You go in God’s grace, and by God’s grace we will hold the rope.  You hold onto us and we’ll hold onto you.”   

    Interestingly enough, I was sharing this story with another friend and she resonated with it so much because of what God had been teaching her that she offered to write a post about it.  View what God has been teaching her here.                   

    My last post spoke of the chaos I feel I am going into, but it is supporters like him who give me confidence.  

    I know that I am held up by many with bowed heads and folded hands. If you would like to join that team and help hold the rope, send me an email or comment on this post.

Documentary Work in Africa !?

If you ever wondered what exactly Documentary work looks like in Africa, check out this awesome webseries.  It's a great Behind The Scenes (BTS) look at what Video Production entails.  I will be doing much of this type of work, and facing many of the same obstacles as I produce videos for my upcoming project.  Take a look.

http://www.zacuto.com/bts-webisode-1