The other day, one of my team members said something to me that I haven’t stopped thinking about. We were playing a game where we edify and affirm each other and this particular team member said to me, “I like the way you’re a mom, but you’re not a mom.”
I laughed because I often feel like a mom of kids when I lead teams. Sometimes I need to wake them up in the morning, multiple times. I need to help them with laundry, meals, and make sure they are okay throughout the day and night. Sometimes I even get woken up because one of them is sick, and I never mind because it’s part of the job to care for the team while we are in communities sharing the Love of Jesus.
But, what struck me about this statement were a few things. First, I want to be a mom someday. I would love to have children of my own to care for them and love them in ways I never was. To know that I would get to share my Jesus with them and raise them into a life of knowing Him more than I did would be a huge joy in my life. But the second thing that struck me about this statement is how true it is. I already feel like a mom to many, many kids in my communities, to different teammates, and with kids of people I know.
Now coming up on my fourth year in Africa, many of the places I travel the kids and the people of the communities now call me “Auntie,” or “Mama”, “Sister” or “Mom”. This is mostly from my age but it is also seen as a sign of respect. I used to laugh when I was the only one on the team getting called these names, but they now make me smile.
Like Carolina, who was my host sister in Mozambique. She was the tender age of 8 and was already living a harsh life and was scared at first that these strangers were in her home. But after two weeks of living there, she would run to me and yell, “Mama Julia,” “Mama Julia.”
Then there are the kids in Opuwo, Namibia who proudly exclaim “Auntie’s here,” when I come to visit them once a year and spend days playing in the dirt and sharing Jesus with them.
In my home community of Mooiplaas, the principal of the school Mama Maria often calls me “mama” or “sister” as a sign that I am one of them and have long earned my right to be there. My heart is saturated in that place.
In Lesotho, the mountain Kingdom, I often get called “Mme Julia” in schools and on the base of our project that we work at. That translates to “Mom Julia.”
In my very first village in Mocuba, Mozambique the kids will come running, chanting “Mama Julia! Mama Julia!” Memories flood of the days when I didn’t know them and we were just playing games and singing songs. Those days grew and grew to 50 and 60 kids who ended up hearing about God because of those playing days.
In our farming community in South Africa, I often get called “Tannie” by the kids, which is Afrikaans for “Auntie.” It is one of my favourite ways to be referred because it reminds me of the first African language I learned and people so dear to my heart.
In the Western Cape in one of the communities that claims part of my heart, they call me “sister,” after years of going back and sharing life together.
All of these experiences remind me of God’s goodness to me. To place me in a family, to place me in communities I have come to love, to allow me to lead teams and share His love through Southern Africa – it is an honour.
So while I may not be a mom to my own kids yet, I joke often that I have hundreds of kids. And while I’m “not a mom,” God has placed many kids, teens, and young adults in my life to steward and watch over because they are His and I’m thankful for that opportunity.
And one day, when I am a mom, I will know more of the Lord’s faithfulness – I truly know He hears the desires of our hearts because of my life here in Africa.
“And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up. So then, as we have the opportunity, let us do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith.” Galatians 6: 9-10
