Dinner at Charles'

I remember the first or second day I was in Kenya- William was driving us all over so we could meet our different ministry partners and know our way around. As we drove through old Kijabe town he stopped at the sight of a familiar face: Charles. He introduced us and I half-heartedly greeted him because honestly I had met so many people that day, I was so overwhelmed, so tired and I did not realize the significance of these relationships. I don’t know if I could have even pointed him out in a crowd the next day.

Well, Charles has become one of my favorite Kenyan people. He has been one our faithful matatu (van) drivers and so we see him nearly every day. Sweet, quiet and shy guy that at first I was not so sure about…but day by day I got to know him and he became a charming, gentle, caring man who loved the Lord and found so much joy in each day. A dear friendship was born and I really feel like he has taken me in as a daughter. We joke together, he cares for us, and I honestly trust him with my life. He knows his car and the roads so well, as well as having connections to everyone we pass- so I am confident that any situation we might get in, Charles would see us through. Charles speaks encouragement into our ministry and is gracious and caring to every team that passes through his car. I cannot speak highly enough of this guy, and honestly he might be the hardest goodbye, because we spend hours upon hours a week together.

We’ve passed his children on the roads here and there, or when we have him join us for dinner in Nairobi he always pulls out the family photos, but it was time to meet the fam. Some way or another we got ourselves invited over for dinner tonight, and having just returning home I don’t know what is fuller right now: my heart or my stomach.

How should I put this…walking into Charles’ felt like stepping into a crazy family reunion where they take you in as their own. Almost immediately after taking a seat when we arrived he told us that the woman wanted help in the kitchen so two other girls and I ventured into a small dark room. We were greeted by Charles’ wife as well as his sister-in-law, Rose. We washed our hands (i.e. pouring filtered water over them) and they put us to work chopping lettuce, crying over onions and washing dishes. Before the sun set we snuck out of the kitchen so that we could see Charles’ land. His house is next to his fathers, who, come to find out, is one of the richest men in Kijabe town. Their house is beautiful and large (for a Kenyan home). I felt like I walked into a petting zoo as Charles showed us his 17 pigs, dozen cows, 1 giant bull, cages of rabbits, goats, 500 chickens (they supply eggs for the hospital in Kijabe!) and large, large chamba (garden). I.was.blown.away. His little boys were trailing behind us, and I chased little Joseph back through the corn fields, following the untamed giggles.

Back to the kitchen we went, and aunties started arriving and joining us. They were a hoot. Always laughing and joking while working hard. I learned the back breaking (yet worthwhile) job of rolling chipati (like a thick, fried tortilla) and the woman were so gracious in my miss-shaped products. Rose began rolling dough for the samosas (thin chipati dough, filled with spiced meat, folded into a triangle that is then deep fried), Aunties fried potatoes, stirred meat and finished up the chipati. Ruth (Charles’ oldest, 12 yr old) joined me by my side as I slowly learned the precise folding and “gluing” techniques of the samosas. Whenever I would mess up I would just say “help!!” and hand it to her and she would careful fix my mess. Auntie Perris would grade me on my samosa before it went into be fried, and I never managed to get a 100% but she was gracious anyways. Ruth and I sang little songs I have picked up here, and laughed together as I showered her in compliments and would continually mess up- all the while tossing around any Swahili word I knew. I took a break and held little Jane (3 ½ yr old) and watched the other team members play with the boys who had too much energy for their own good. (I should note that we arrived at 6pm, and did not eat until 9pm).

Dinner finally came and we sat around the feast we had made. I knew I would not get much down me because the woman kept handing us food in the kitchen to test before dinner even started. It was delicious but by the time I worked my way through the plate I was stuffed. After dinner we sat around and made conversation in between their own language jabbering. Before we left, in true Kenyan style, we circled for a prayer. Auntie Ida stood beside me so near as I held her hand and Jack prayed over this family that took us in so well. He lifted up Charles, and thanked the Lord for was a faithful and caring friend and worker he was and my heart sank with the realization of the looming goodbye but was full of gratitude. As we were leaving I already wanted to go back.

When we were walking through the gardens earlier that day, Charles told me that if I wanted to come back I could stay with them and he would give me a small garden to keep. I know in Kenyan ways, he would be honest to his words, but I also know that it was a light hearted, passing comment. But remember when I wrote of how Kenya makes me dream? In those moments, walking through corn and trees, I dreamed of coming back to this place. I dreamed of a simpler life, and living with a family that has the biggest heart. I dreamed of watching Jane and Joseph play and grow, William studying hard and Ruth teaching me how to cook even more. And I know these are all crazy dreams, but I wonder if maybe even just for a few days I could adopt a different life and get a whole new perspective. I’m ready (I think) to take the next step, and dive deeper into this culture.

And honestly, today had been a pretty rough day and I was thinking about how ready I was to leave, but then I had a night like this and Kenya took a little more of my heart. Oh Kenya.

Women of Courage

I’m going to begin this post by sharing a section from a previous blog I wrote about confidence.

“In The Gifts of Imperfection, Brene Brown talks a lot about courage. She says in the first chapter that courage requires practice, almost like a habit- "We learn courage by couraging". Later she defines courage by going to the root of the word and telling us that cor- is the Latin for heart. "Courage originally meant 'To speak one's mind by telling all one's heart'...Ordinarily courage is about putting our vulnerability on the line. In today's world, that's pretty extraordinary". As I read these pages and her definition of courage I thought about my word confidence.
I looked up the dictionary definitions:
Courage [kur -ij] noun
1. The state or quality of mind or spirit that enables one to face danger, fear, or vicissitudes with self-possession, confidence, and resolution; bravery.

Confidence [kon-fi-duh ns] noun 

1. A belief or conviction that an outcome will be favorable.

2. Belief in the certainty of something.

3. Belief in the effectiveness of one's own abilities or in one's favorable acceptance by others; self-confidence.

I think these two can be closely linked but I would say confidence is more the belief in oneself and one's ability whereas courage is the ability to act upon those. In Brene's definitions they both involve action- the speaking, the putting out there.”

Last week we were able to go back to the “Women of Courage” Bible Study down in the valley. This post was on my mind as I focused on the word courage. Instead of the usual Bible Study we had a time of testimony and sharing. These woman, my goodness, are indeed courageous- they spoke all of their hearts. We were in tears at the stories these woman would share so honestly. And in return we would try to speak encouragement over them and share our own stories. The stories are too tender for me to share at the moment, but maybe one day I will pass their words along.  But I will tell you is that these woman face hardship every day. They face things that woman should not have to, just to be able to provide a small amount for their family. Shame follows them, sickness plagues them. But they choose courage every day, fighting small battles as well as big ones. Choosing just to get up and care for their family, or working hard so that they do not have to go back onto the streets. And though some people see these woman as dirty or outcasts, I see them as beautiful woman who fight so hard. And I do not use those words because they are the nice, dreamy thing to say, I use them because when my heart was broken down the first week I met them, and then as the Lord reshaped my heart after His in new ways, I think I see them a little more like God does. Covered in grace. They are beautiful and have worth. 

I don’t think people understand the boldness they are speaking when they say the lyrics “break my heart for what breaks yours” because God will. And if there is one thing I’ve learned here, it is that there are so so so many things in this world that breaks God’s heart. I stand at the point, broken, thinking about how much more broken God’s heart is. But how incredible that how much more is God’s love as well. God’s grace. God’s forgiveness. And I’m blown away. Like I sang with these woman the first time we gathered- “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound”.

As I spend time with them I am challenged to live more boldly, more confidently yet more humbly. And I want to join in with them and be known as a woman of courage. 

My heart is captivated

I think every time I post I mention 1) how long it has been and 2) how fast time has flown- because both are true. This has been the fastest moving summer I have ever had, and I’m just trying to keep up! I think it is because of a combination of how busy we keep ourselves, and the fact that I absolutely love what we are doing so it does not feel like work. 

This past year I struggled a lot with feeling like I was not a very passionate person. There are things that I felt strongly about, but I was not bold enough to speak out about them. Or there are things that make me excited but I wouldn’t go beyond myself to tell others about it. I guess all this came from me comparing what my passion looked like to other people I know. Let me tell you, I know some passionate people and I’m inspired by the measures they take, and how effortlessly it pours from them. My friend told me that I was passionate in my own way but I lacked the eyes to see it in myself. 

But Kenya. Kenya has made me passionate. I have struck upon something that makes me want to move beyond myself. A place where I come alive. I want to fight for these people and stand for them when the world stands against them. I search for words, because I do want to speak up. After meeting these people, I cannot NOT have passion, because it would simply be a disgrace to them, and a waste of a summer.

With passion comes the earning to come back. I do not know what the Lord has in store for me, but I know that this summer has confirmed the call on my life to do long term missions in Africa. I have started to wrestle with different ideas of what the Lord could be calling me to. I struggle with knowing whether after seeing the needs and burdens of the Kenyan people and knowing their hearts I have a responsibility to them and I need to return here OR if this is just a stepping stone to another place in Africa…but I guess the Lord will reveal that in time.

But I am simply captivated.

I do not really know if there are words for the moment when you realize that you have found the thing the Lord has designed you to do. Yes, there are still so many unknowns and questions and directions that are to be sorted out, but being here gives me this peace, joy and fulfillment that no other place has.

And this does not mean that every step has been easy. With the joy and excitement, comes an equal dose of hard fights and daily heartbreak. I can do without fast food, American convince and luxuries, but I do have many days when I miss friends, family and close knit communities I’ve woven together over the years. And as much as I know this is exactly where I am supposed to be, my heart and mind wanders elsewhere as weddings, reunions and parties that I am absent from pass by. And I am aware that if this is the life I’m called to long term, there are going to be countless more days where I long to be elsewhere as I cannot be everywhere at once. There is sacrifice that comes with following the Lord to the ends of the earth (or anywhere really). But how much greater to be inside the will of God than anywhere else. God never said following Him would be easy. In fact, He told us that in this world you will face trials- but that cannot keep us back from the call.