The Right Reasons

It’s been about two weeks since I left Africa, and I leave for Thailand in a week. I’ve been enjoying my time in the States so far. It’s been a good combination of fun, relaxation, extrovert time, and introvert time. I miss Swaziland, but I’m excited for this next season to begin.

I recently had a five-hour conversation with a man I’ve considered a mentor for the past two and a half years. He drilled me with questions about Africa and Asia in an effort to understand what I’ve been going through, and to help me process what’s been going on. He asked me what’s the hardest about leaving Swaziland. I fought tears as I described the girls, friends, church, boyfriend, and community I left behind. He smiled in his wise yet playful way, and said, “I’m glad that’s what you had, and that you left it behind. It means if you would have stayed, it may have been for the wrong reasons.”

My community in Swaziland has been so supportive about this move to Thailand, but for some reason, the way he phrased his observation was so refreshing and encouraging. I’m on the right track. Even though my reasons to stay were “good” ones – help the girls, support my friends, develop my relationship, grow the church, etc. – they weren’t the right ones. My desire is to take what I learn and experience in Thailand, and bring it back to southern Africa. My desire is to see my girls, friends, church, and boyfriend again – sooner rather than later. And that’s a very attainable goal. But is it the right one?

As I was processing this on my flight and bus ride to Wisconsin today, my mind wandered to what one of my friends and ministry partners said to a teenage girl who dearly missed her baby. The baby currently lives at a different group home (as Hosea’s Heart currently doesn’t have the facility or staff to raise infants, at least not yet), and while the mother was in deep emotional pain from not seeing her child in some time, my friend asked her, “If, for whatever reason, you never see your child again, will you still praise God and say that He is good?”

I can’t relate to a teen mom aching to see her child. But I began to ask myself the same question regarding my current situation.

If, for whatever reason, I never return to Africa, will I still praise God and say that He is good?

If I never see my girls again, will I still praise God and say that He is good?

If our four-year-old doesn’t remember me in two years, will I still praise God and say that He is good?

If I never see or do life alongside my ministry cohorts again, will I still praise God and say that He is good?

If my relationship with my boyfriend ends in turmoil, will I still praise God and say that He is good?

If my Stateside family and friends all turn against me and no longer support my life overseas, will I still praise God and say that He is good?

If I am called to return to America indefinitely, will I still praise God and say that He is good?

The more I asked myself these questions and promised God, “Yes, I will praise You and say that You are good!” the more peace overcame me on that bus ride. And then, the Spirit led me down another thought process…

When I see women being openly sold and exploited in the red-light district of Bangkok, will I praise God and say that He is good?

When I meet pimps and johns selling and purchasing girls like meat, will I praise God and say that He is good?

When I meet a girl refusing to leave her life of prostitution, will I praise God and say that He is good?

When I see a child, the age of my girls in Swaziland, trafficked across borders by her own family, will I praise God and say that He is good?

Those questions are harder to answer, and that promise is harder to make. I’ve had so many arguments with God about social injustice and the abuse of girls and women I love so much. But this I know – He sees them, hears their cries, lifts them up, and sets them free.

He upholds the cause of the oppressed

and gives food to the hungry.

The Lord sets prisoners free,

the Lord gives sight to the blind,

the Lord lifts up those who are bowed down,

the Lord loves the righteous.

The Lord watches over the foreigner

and sustains the fatherless and the widow,

but the frustrates the ways of the wicked.

Psalm 146:7-9

I will praise You, and know that You are good.




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As of July 19th, I am still $10,200 short of my fundraising goal for 18 months in Thailand. Interested in helping out? Online donations can be sent via PayPal to racheldanell@gmail.com, or contact me via email about sending checks. Thank you!

The Great Transition

Two years ago, on June 18, 2015, I moved to Manzini, Swaziland. My initial commitment was for one year, but I knew in my heart that I would be here longer. There was nothing I wanted more than to be in this place and call it “home.”

In the eyes of my community in America, I was either a hero or a madwoman for picking up everything shortly after college graduation and living halfway across the globe, without even a salary to show for it.

 “Wow, that must have been so hard! What do you miss most about home? Do you have electricity? How do you live without (insert random thing here)?! What you’re doing is so cool! Do you speak their language? I wish I could go there and do that thing!”

“You’re doing what?! And you’re not getting paid?! How are you supporting yourself? How will you find a husband? That’s really not safe. You’re going to get kidnapped/mugged/robbed/etc. What about savings? Retirement fund? Kids?”

For me, moving here was easy. I was so, SO excited. I counted the days until my plane left, a one-way ticket for adventure. Yeah, I miss certain things about America. I miss my friends and family. Sometimes, life feels lonely out here as an expat. And the transition here was full of bumps and bruises. It took a while to build a community and to feel comfortable. But overall, I know this is what I wanted, and, more importantly, this is what God wanted.

But, what do you do when God says, “Go” after you’ve already gone?

It’s a long story, but through an internet search, I found a volunteer position at a ministry in Bangkok, Thailand that basically describes exactly what I want to do here in Swaziland, except nobody does it here in Swaziland. I wanted to go check out this Thai ministry for short-term, but the minimum commitment is 18 months. And there’s so much I can learn in 18 months! I can be with people who have been doing this for years and absorb as much as possible from such a well-established ministry. I can grow even more in this new culture and see the world in a new, fresh way.

But a lot can happen in 18 months. Several of our girls will be out of the home and off to college at that point. We’ll have moved to a brand new campus at a new location. We’ll have new homes, new girls, new staff, and new missionaries. The church plant I’ve been involved in will grow. The training center will look completely different.

I submitted my application. Lord, if it’s Your will, open this door wide. If it’s not, close it shut.

Lord, prepare my heart for the news. Prepare my heart for rejection, if the door closes. Prepare my heart to go, if it opens.

One month later, I received an email. Rachel, NightLight would like to formally accept you to join our team here in Bangkok as the Assistant Outreach Coordinator…

And I cried.

My prayers were for God’s will, but my flesh wanted the door shut tight.

But I still said, yes.

Every day is a struggle. It’s a test of obedience. Here I have community, friends, and purpose. I have favorite restaurants and hangout spots. I have a regular grocery store and a routine. I don’t know anyone in Bangkok. I don’t have a routine. I don’t even know what to expect for my future there. I could cancel my ticket at any time. But that would be me shutting the door right in God’s face. And I just can’t bring my heart to do that to Him.

I’m not just picking everything up to go on my next great adventure, like some might think. Most days, I’m not even that excited about it. I know it will be amazing, and I know I will learn so much. But I will miss my girls. I will miss my friends. I will miss my church. I will miss this country.

Saying,  “yes” doesn’t bring you to a destination. It continues your journey. Swaziland isn’t my final destination – at least, not yet. It’s only a chapter in the story, just like Bangkok will be.

Hey friends! I am still in need for funds for this move to Thailand! Interested in helping out? Email me at racheldanell@gmail.com

Heart in Two Places

Anyone who ever spent time with me during college knows I love Africa. I talked about it all the time. I had maps, flags, and photos on my bedroom walls. I looked for any excuse to tell a story or share a fact. I loved my university and knew the value of finishing my degree, but it was no secret that I longed to be somewhere else.

But living here isn’t always easy, either. I get homesick. I miss late night conversations with friends. I miss family dinners and adventures with my brother. Over the past eighteen months, I’ve missed out on weddings, births, and reunions. Believe me, it’s not that I don’t want to be there – it’s that God placed me here, and it’s a little difficult to commute between continents, no matter how badly I want to sometimes.

A few days ago, I opened my email to find out my dog died. We’d had her since I was in fifth grade, and she was as loyal of a pet as anyone could ask for. I’m sad and disappointed at her passing, but I’m so grateful for the time I had with her, especially on my trip to the States a few months ago. We went on car rides and walks in the park and shared Sonic happy hour, just like old times. Saying goodbye to her at the end of my trip was hard, because I knew she didn’t understand where I was going or how long I’d be gone. But she was joyful, all the same.

This news was hard, not just because I miss my canine companion, but because it got me thinking about what else I’d missed and am going to miss out on. More weddings, births, graduations, and funerals. My heart is as much in America as it is in Swaziland.

Just as I was processing and digesting this information, I received news that a very dear friend of mine passed away. She was in her late 70’s and lived a long, full life loving Jesus and sharing kindness, but that didn’t stop my tears from flowing. I’m surrounded by awesome, supportive community out here, but they didn’t know her. They don’t know the life I shared with her. They just know I’m hurting.

And of course, all that sent me into a dramatic spiral of “what if’s”… What if something happens and I have to go home? What if I had never left home? What if I had only stayed in Swazi for one year, like I initially planned? What if I didn’t have such easy communication with home? What if I had never gone to Swaziland in the first place in 2012? What if…

It’s not easy having your heart in two places. Even if I hadn’t left home after my visit in October, I would have missed out on so much here in Swaziland. Since being back, we’ve celebrated birthdays and Thanksgiving. Two new girls have entered our home. God worked through us to reach out to dozens of women selling themselves on street corners. The young woman living with me decided to leave our ministry and return to her old life on the streets, and if I was in the U.S. instead of right here in the middle of it all, I would have been even more devastated and helpless.

This isn’t the happiest blog post I’ve ever written, but I promise there is a silver lining. I can’t be in both places. Even while I was home, it was so challenging and exhausting trying to see everyone I wanted to see, and I missed Swaziland with all my heart. I can’t do it all, but I know Who can and does. While I go to the States, I have to trust God with what’s going on in Swaziland. I have to trust Him with our girls and the ministry. While I’m in Swaziland, I have to trust Him with all my relationships back home. I have to trust His timing with all news and events, both good and bad. There’s a reason He had me here to find out about my dog and my friend instead of at home. He provides and He comforts, and if I had been at home for that news, maybe I wouldn’t have leaned on Him as much. Maybe I would have dealt with it in a completely different way. Maybe…

I’m trying hard not to live in the “what if’s” and “maybe’s.” I’m trying hard to live a life that glorifies God, no matter the sacrifice. No matter what He asks of me. Besides, the light at the tunnel makes it all worth it, and I know where I will see my friend again.

First Morning Back

I love mornings. No really, I actually do. Throughout my college career, I was usually the first one out of bed, before all my roommates. This was partially due to early classes and even earlier workout routines, but also because my introverted personality loves to bask in the stillness of the dawn.

This is my first morning back in Swaziland after a six-week furlough in the States. Over the past four months or so, I’ve become less and less of a morning person. I became tired. I love this work in Swaziland, but it’s exhausting. I had become physically and emotionally drained, more than I could ever imagine. Some nights I’d be in bed as early as 8PM, and refuse to get up no earlier than 9 or 10AM, only if I had to. Fatigue? Stress? Probably. I needed a break.

However, my trip to the States was less than restful. I was in six different states and ten different airports and countless couches and air mattresses and guest rooms during that six-week period. I had very few opportunities to be still and take in my surroundings or even spend quality time with God. I was in a world that never sat still or silent, even for a moment. I enjoyed my time back in America, but it wasn’t exactly what I anticipated or thought I needed.

It’s 5:30AM here in Swazi. I’m not awake by choice – jet lag has kept me up for the past 20 hours. But this is amazing. Outside my window are the familiar rundown buildings and purple flowered trees. There’s laundry hanging from a balcony across the street. Occasionally joyful voices speaking rapid siSwati wander past. Bird are singing, dogs are barking. All so familiar, yet so fresh at the same time.

Maybe I needed to be overwhelmed by the busyness and franticness of America in order to finally find peace and solace here.

And in the midst of it all, I know God is taking care of me. I got overly emotional at the Denver airport on my way out a few days ago, because the airline ladies checking my luggage made me remove a few pounds from each of my bags. I was annoyed. I had three suitcases stuffed mostly with items and materials for the girls and workshop, and very few things for myself. I had to remove a few bottles of body spray, which is such a small thing, but it’s one of the luxuries I was looking forward to going back to the hot and smelly African summer. I couldn’t put them in my carry-on, so I left them with my parents and pouted all through security. I was annoyed at the situation, but also with myself, for being so crabby over an insignificant material thing.

I’m not living in Africa to have an American life. My treasures are in Heaven. I have the basic clothes and toiletries that I need to survive, nothing more, nothing less. I am blessed with an amazing apartment just a few blocks from downtown and a bed to call my own. It’s simple, and I love it so much.

While I was in the States, I offered a short-term missionary to stay in my apartment for a week. It was the least I could do, since she has done so much for our ministry, and I wasn’t going to be there to use it anyway. Last night, after dinner with Kate and hugging and kissing all of the girls at the girls’ home, I settled back into my place and started unpacking. In my closet, there was a green gift bag without a note, which I later found out was a thank you gift from this missionary. Inside…a bottle of body spray, along with shower gel and lotion.

It’s such a small thing that probably seems silly to someone who’s been awake for a normal number of hours (unlike myself). But sometimes I need the small reminders like that. I am giving my life to Him, and He sees that. He knows that. He’s looking out for me. He knows exactly what I need and when I need it, whether it’s rest, companionship, strength, or body spray.