People have asked me how I am doing, and I tell them I am doing well. Because I really am. Yes, leaving was so so so hard, and I miss my friends and life in Kenya. There are times I'm in a funny mood and there are the little things that remind me of the place I left my heart. Or maybe the reality just has not caught up with me yet.
But God. But God has been so gracious in this transition. I have been filled with a peace and I have come to terms that this is where I am called to be right now. This next year, senior year, holds to much- some good and some hard.
When I got to Kenya I kept saying "words are hard", because they were. And again I say that as I transition back to the States. It is hard to find the right words to sum up all I did and saw. Many things I encounter transcend stories, experiences or photos. But words are coming...slowly...but they are indeed coming.
So here I am today, with a cup of not-quite-Kenyan-but-close-enough chai ready to untangle my thoughts of my 10 weeks in Kenya.
Grace and patience as I work through this please.
10 weeks in Kenya. Looking back I realize how big of a dream it was that I wasn't bold enough to dream so God literally just put it in my lap for me. It makes sense why I had to abandon my first set of Love Africa applications my sophomore year, because if I hadn't I would have only be in Kenya for 2 weeks last January and the life changing summer I just experienced wouldn't be what it was.
I also got so quickly thrown in that I barely had time to realize all I was getting myself into, and had I known, I probably would have backed out because I wasn't looking at what God was capable of doing, but only what I was (or wasn't) capable of doing.
It was a lot to take in at first. New Core team, new culture, new pace of life. With that came having to learn how to trust on God in new ways, find new found confidence and strength. But the people instantly took us in. Karibu is Kiswahili for welcome, and probably the most commonly heard word that first week. The Kenyans love deeply and freely. They put Southern hospitality to shame. And despite having so little they will welcome you into their home and put forth their best cup of chai and chapati that they can. Combine this with their contagious joy and it is hard not to fall in love with them. They love visitors and even though there is a language barrier, they love just being together. Just being.
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Not only do the Kenyans love us so freely but it comes from a place of loving their God so unconditionally. Being in Kenya for 10 weeks taught me so much more about my God, faith, trust in Him and grace upon grace than I could imagine. My view of God was shattered as I realized I had put Him in such a box. In Kenya God is in and through everything...or maybe it is that there are less hindrances and distractions from Him. They trust in Him in all things. They praise Him in the good times and the bad. And worship. Unhindered, un-time bound, pure and desperate worship. Gathering with the Kenyans at church each Sunday and watching as they came before their God. It was different than so many churches I have been to in my years but I found it so beautiful in its' own way. And I know that the world is big, yet the God has it ALL in His grasp, but standing with my Kenyan brothers and sisters while they pray in different languages and I udder things in English- yet God hears and sees it all...I just stand in awe of how very big our God is. Every hand I held, face I passed, voice I heard- God knows them...intimately. When my heart loves a child, I think of how much greater their Creator loves them, and as my heart breaks with the unthinkable circumstances and poverty, again how much greater does their Father grieve with them.
One of the verses I picked up as my guide for the summer was Romans 12:15: "Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep." As I was called to love and sit and just be with those people, I got to know their hearts and I was able to rejoice with them as they praised their God and celebrated the good things. But I also had many moments where I was able to mourn with them as the hard times did come. I recognize that me swooping into Kenya, I can't save them all and I can physically do very little (and if I could, it's not about being their savior, but rather pointing them to their Savior)- but I have the ability to encourage and journey with them.
For example after getting to know the story and hearts of the people at the Inter-displaced Person's Camp I could do just that. These people have been living in the same tents the U.N. gave them...in 2007! But just this year, they have begun constructing tin houses. If I had just walked up to this place and seen these "houses" I would have, frankly, called them shacks. But after the relationship was formed I was taken in their home and I can, with honesty, say "this is so so good". They take so much pride in that little tin box and they see it as nothing but a blessing (whereas we see a house as a right). I can rejoice with them as they see the Lord's favor in providing something better than what they had.
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| You can see the old tent to the right vs. a new home on the left |
Because Kenya did just that. It changed my perspective. I grew up in a 3rd world country, yet I lived there as a child. I was just an observer through childish eyes. Yes, I learned so much and my world-view grew tremendously...but this summer I saw the third world first hand as an adult. And it made all the difference. I've taken classes in college about poverty or missions and I've thought about Africa for years. But to be in the middle of it day after day for 81 days- it changes things. It brings up questions you've never thought of before. It reveals so much of things in your own life, like your selfishness, ignorance, how much you do or don't trust God, all you take for granted, among other things. And most of all...it gives you faces and names. Anna, Mary, Grace, Rahab, Kevin, Patrick, Ann, Candy...all these little ones have seen more in their young years than I ever will. And with their stories and with their eyes my world changes. I want to run and hide and pretend that awful things don't happen and poverty is not a reality, but when I realize that it is I can't hide anymore. I have to be passionate and stand up for these kids because if I didn't I would be doing them a disgrace and the last 10 weeks would be in vain. I can't ignore the vicious and heartbreaking cycle of prostitution because Naomi. Because Jane. Because of the little girls at Lulu's Place safe house.
There is so much more out there in the world.
So much more brokenness that people deny exists.
And so much more beauty that people forfeit knowing.
I have found that for 81 days I was surrounded by brokenness.
But for 81 days I was surrounded about redemption, grace, beauty and hope...and that made every hard moment more than worth it.
I have so much more I could say but I'm going to start breaking down my thoughts into individual blog posts so this does not become outrageously long. Thanks for hanging in there with me.
Love to all.
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