My Heart Wisdom
My Heart Wisdom!
“زړهٔ مې دا ستا د مينې کور دی سوی د عشق په سوځند اور دی"
My heart is the home of your love. The burn of love in a scorching fire
-Sheikh Mati Baba from a poem written for his father in his book “Khodai Mina” -God Love-translated by me.
My time in Islamabad is coming to a close as I look forward to going back to Peshawar this Friday to start my sophomore year. The time has been well spent reading Pashto poetry like the one above, traveling in and out of the country, building relationships with both expat and local brothers and sisters, and generally resting to be able to have the strength to go back for a fresh year at Islamia College! Nothing ever became of my desire for better living accommodations, as the college authorities are neither willing to let me live in another hostel for security concerns nor willing to fix the problems in their hostel from sheer corruption and favoritism for the male students who do not see the lack of water, electricity, and nutrition that we face. Pray for change there, as I trust God has me still there to advocate for the girls despite that never having worked last year when I tried to help them.
I was able to spend a lot of time with Roya’s family downstairs, which is always sweet, as Afghans have a special place in my heart for always welcoming me into their families as their own. I always connect with them deeper even than I do with Pakistani Pashtuns despite being the same people group, and their inability to process the idea of a single woman living alone usually gives me their sure promise of always having a place in their home with their love and protection. They offered that I could live with them on my school breaks and if, anytime I am sad, I could go visit Roya’s father’s home, which is closer to Peshawar than Islamabad is. They also offered to come visit me anytime I am sick. They took me to a more rural area to visit their aunt’s family. She lived in my dream of where I wanted to be in Pakistan. A small cylinder block house at the foot of some green mountains packed with many women, children, and livestock all living in close quarters. All us women are sitting on toeshacks drinking tea with the milk they just took from the cow sitting right outside the window, chatting as the children run around and steal biscuits-none of them in school. A random goat or chicken or one of the 14 men who live in the two-room house wanders out in the courtyard, not disturbing our segregated meeting. I enjoyed it a lot, much to their surprise, as they thought I would be disturbed by the noise of so many kids and large animals in a tight spot. Praise God I now have enough language to keep up in the conversations, share stories from the book, and also translate when there’s expat friends with us who don’t speak Pashto. Pray I grow more in my language learning. Pray for Roya’s husband to grow in his faith and to have the boldness to share it with his family. Pray for a deeper walk with the Lord as it is difficult being the only believer surrounded by a large family of such an opposing religion.
Pray for wisdom on how to spend my time at university because there is an overwhelming amount of access as hundreds of girls live with me and thousands attend my college. Pray for wisdom to know who God is working on and who to build deeper friendships with. Pray God lead me to those seeking and those who may already secretly trust in the Lord.
Pray for those who received the book last semester. Pray they read it in the Spirit as it says the natural man cannot understand things that are spiritually discerned. One of my classmates, though not reading it herself, her brother is reading it. Pray for many more to ask and receive.
Thank you all for praying! It means so much to know that I am surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses. Khodai pah Aman!
Kendall Freeman
Aug 24th 2024
“زړهٔ مې دا ستا د مينې کور دی سوی د عشق په سوځند اور دی"
My heart is the home of your love. The burn of love in a scorching fire
-Sheikh Mati Baba from a poem written for his father in his book “Khodai Mina” -God Love-translated by me.
My time in Islamabad is coming to a close as I look forward to going back to Peshawar this Friday to start my sophomore year. The time has been well spent reading Pashto poetry like the one above, traveling in and out of the country, building relationships with both expat and local brothers and sisters, and generally resting to be able to have the strength to go back for a fresh year at Islamia College! Nothing ever became of my desire for better living accommodations, as the college authorities are neither willing to let me live in another hostel for security concerns nor willing to fix the problems in their hostel from sheer corruption and favoritism for the male students who do not see the lack of water, electricity, and nutrition that we face. Pray for change there, as I trust God has me still there to advocate for the girls despite that never having worked last year when I tried to help them.
I was able to spend a lot of time with Roya’s family downstairs, which is always sweet, as Afghans have a special place in my heart for always welcoming me into their families as their own. I always connect with them deeper even than I do with Pakistani Pashtuns despite being the same people group, and their inability to process the idea of a single woman living alone usually gives me their sure promise of always having a place in their home with their love and protection. They offered that I could live with them on my school breaks and if, anytime I am sad, I could go visit Roya’s father’s home, which is closer to Peshawar than Islamabad is. They also offered to come visit me anytime I am sick. They took me to a more rural area to visit their aunt’s family. She lived in my dream of where I wanted to be in Pakistan. A small cylinder block house at the foot of some green mountains packed with many women, children, and livestock all living in close quarters. All us women are sitting on toeshacks drinking tea with the milk they just took from the cow sitting right outside the window, chatting as the children run around and steal biscuits-none of them in school. A random goat or chicken or one of the 14 men who live in the two-room house wanders out in the courtyard, not disturbing our segregated meeting. I enjoyed it a lot, much to their surprise, as they thought I would be disturbed by the noise of so many kids and large animals in a tight spot. Praise God I now have enough language to keep up in the conversations, share stories from the book, and also translate when there’s expat friends with us who don’t speak Pashto. Pray I grow more in my language learning. Pray for Roya’s husband to grow in his faith and to have the boldness to share it with his family. Pray for a deeper walk with the Lord as it is difficult being the only believer surrounded by a large family of such an opposing religion.
Pray for wisdom on how to spend my time at university because there is an overwhelming amount of access as hundreds of girls live with me and thousands attend my college. Pray for wisdom to know who God is working on and who to build deeper friendships with. Pray God lead me to those seeking and those who may already secretly trust in the Lord.
Pray for those who received the book last semester. Pray they read it in the Spirit as it says the natural man cannot understand things that are spiritually discerned. One of my classmates, though not reading it herself, her brother is reading it. Pray for many more to ask and receive.
Thank you all for praying! It means so much to know that I am surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses. Khodai pah Aman!
Kendall Freeman
Aug 24th 2024
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