My Journey Continues

My journey of trusting God through uncertainty, and learning to be present and grateful in the times and places He allows me to be, is not yet over.  I think in my lifetime that journey probably won’t ever be fully complete, as I’ve been learning and exploring the depths of trust and gratitude for many years, and every time I think I've "got it down", He takes me even deeper, but this particular season of uncertainty over my immigration status is definitely not yet over. God has been again proving Himself to be so good and faithful however, and I have seen Him answer my prayers in small yet very tangible ways in these last two months.

For example, Ruth and I were asked to spend the month of March serving in the Kids Alive programs in Zambia (More about that in an upcoming post), and because the chaos of the recent elections effectively shut down almost all government offices for the past 3 months, my Kenyan work permit has still not been approved. So leaving to go to Zambia would mean having to obtain another visitors’ visa upon my return to Kenya, something that, without an approved work permit, gets harder every time I leave the country. After a lot of prayer, I decided that I would “just go” and trust that if God wanted me to be allowed back into Kenya, He would make it happen.

After a wonderful month with our partners in Zambia, as we boarded our return flight from Lusaka, I began to feel very nervous about how I would be received at the the immigration desk in Nairobi. I spent the entire flight (except for the one hour when I fell asleep listening to a random bollywood film soundtrack) praying that the officer would be kind and I would be granted another visa without being harassed like I was last time (in January the officer questioned me for almost 20 minutes, threatened to arrest me, and then gave me a visa that was only valid for 3 weeks).   I asked God to help me word my visa application in a way that was truthful, but would raise the smallest number of questions.

 When it came time to make the application, I nervously began filling in my details as always, but when I came to the line where I was asked to list my occupation, a thought, very much from outside myself, popped into my head. To my surprise, instead of “Missionary” or “NGO volunteer”, the words I usually use to describe my profession, my pen formed the word “Writer”. Writer? I suppose I do write for work quite a bit, I thought– reports for donors, newsletters about our programs, stories about the kids for their sponsors, this blog – but I never ever in my life have considered myself to be a  professional writer of any sort. Because the thought was so clearly not mine, and because the more I thought about it the more I realized it was technically true, I decided to go with it and see what would happen. Well it worked! The immigration officer was the kindest I’ve had yet, and he accepted my application without any queries. We chatted about the weather in Nyeri this time of year; he asked me if I’ve learned to speak any Kikuyu yet. I smiled and tried (probably rather ridiculously) to be as charming as possible - and that was it! Stamped!  Approved! Just like that. No harassing, no threats. No ulcers. Three more months (that I will in NO WAY take for granted) to legally be in this place to which God has so clearly called me. I walked down the stairs to baggage claim wearing what Ruth said was the biggest smile she’d seen from me in weeks, inwardly shouting praises to God for His clear intervention, grace, kindness and favor.

Maybe this example seems small and insignificant, but to me it’s huge. It was such an immediate, perfect answer to my prayers and proof that God IS working all things toward His good purposes. True, He didn’t miraculously open the government offices and compel the officials to go to work and approve my work permit. He didn’t blind the immigration officers and let me walk across the border undetected. My status here is still very tenuous. But He did miraculously show up right when I needed Him most, calming my nerves and giving me exactly the words (or I suppose just the one word) I needed right when I needed them. He is faithful and his timing is perfect. I am beyond grateful. Amen.

P.S. The next time I freak out about my future and forget about being grateful and trusting His faithfulness (which in all honesty could be as early as tomorrow), if you wouldn’t mind, someone please show me this post? Thanks so much :)

Learning through Uncertainty

The end of October, November and the beginning of December were possibly my busiest times so far with Kids Alive Kenya. For about 7 weeks, I was kept on my toes hosting back to back teams from the US, UK and Taiwan. Each team brought its own small challenges, but each team also brought huge blessing, encouragement and new partnerships for Kids Alive Kenya and for me personally. It’s exciting to watch the direction in which the Lord is taking this organization, and the hearts He is touching and bringing together around the world to help make the vision of KAK a reality.

Two days after the last team left the country, I flew to Michigan to spend Christmas with my family. My time in the States was greatly needed, and it was wonderful to be able to spend time with my family and a few friends, some of whom I hadn’t seen for several years.

Upon my arrival back in Kenya last week, as I drove from the airport to the Nairobi guesthouse where I was to spend the night, a strange feeling came over me. It was one I’ve only ever felt in my life when I’ve been travelling to a very familiar place like my childhood home or my family’s Lake house. A feeling of comfort, peace and belonging. I was a little surprised by this feeling, as my life in Kenya has never really felt particularly certain or comfortable. Being the only American in a town of people who mostly have never interacted with someone outside their tribe (let alone their country) has often caused me to feel foreign and out of place. While I should be used to it by now, I still feel a little uncomfortable when every time I walk through town I’m met with open mouthed stares, whispers as I walk past, marriage proposals from drunk men  and shouts of “hey white person!”. So I was confused by this “belonging” feeling that came over me, but after I slept off my jetlag and had time to analyze it, I realized that it was a gift from the Lord for a moment that could have been filled with anxiety and stress, and a reminder that as long as I continue to follow closely after Him, I will always be exactly where He wants me – which is exactly where I belong.

 I applied for a Kenyan work permit over a year ago, but because of a lot of complicated, extenuating circumstances, I still haven’t been approved (despite the fact that all I want to do is to work as an unpaid volunteer for an organization that cares for Kenyan orphans). What this means is that every time I leave the country, it gets harder for me to obtain another visitor’s visa to get back in. This time the immigration officer I met at the border issued me a visa for only one month instead of the usual three, and said that if my permit isn’t approved by the first week of February, I’ll have to leave the country and possibly never be allowed back in again.

It’s been a week since my return, and very little progress has been made toward my approval, which has left me in a state of extreme uncertainty. Will I be leaving Kenya in 3 weeks?  Should I start packing and looking for flights? If I have to leave, will I ever be allowed back in? God, why is this happening – don’t you want me here anymore? If not, then where do you want me?

And yet, as I've been churning these questions over and over in my mind, that peaceful "belonging" feeling hasn't quite left me. And through all of this, a twofold theme has been surfacing in my devotions, conversations and prayer life: the importance of gratitude and being present. The immediate future may be very uncertain, but into my worry-filled thoughts this week, God has been gently whispering that while I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, He does. He does. So I shouldn’t waste today with worrying about tomorrow, but rather focus on and be grateful for the gifts and tasks He’s given to me for today. Easier said than done, I know, but if He is teaching it to me, then I have full confidence that He’ll give me what I need to put it into practice.

A Day in My Life

This week, Ruth and I have been travelling around to all of the Kids Alive Kenya homes for various reasons. It’s been so wonderful to spend time with these other members of the KAK family, as well as sort out several things with different people face to face.

When I have the opportunity to talk to friends and family in the States, I'm often asked "so what did you do today?" and when I say things like "I went to the supermarket in town",  they ask "is that it?" and I often feel guilty, like I need more to show for my day, but well, yes. That's all I did today. It often takes more time to complete everyday tasks here than it does in the USA, and often what I set out to do in a day is not at all what I had planned in the first place. Here's an example:

When I arrived at the Nyamarambe home two days ago, I had planned to use my time there to take photos of the kids and staff in their daily routines, collect some stories for a newsletter I’m writing, talk with the home manager about the plans for the Library we’re putting into that home this year and discuss the possibility of sending some service teams there next summer.

When I arrived however, I received a text from the Nairobi office asking me to follow up on some missing progress report photos that needed to be sent to US sponsors a few weeks ago. After some investigating, I learned that the photos had been taken, but the memory card of the camera that had been used was corrupted, making it impossible for the home to send the needed pictures, and the students had all returned to their boarding schools. After some discussion on how we could best obtain the missing photos, the home manager told me that one of the students whose photo we were missing was at a boarding school about 20 kilometers away, and we could travel there the following morning so that I could take the photo and send it in that afternoon. He said the journey would take about 2 hours total, roundtrip.

The next morning I left the home at about 8:30 am on the home’s motorbike and waited in a nearby village as the driver went back for the manager. Once he arrived, we caught two more motor bikes to the nearest town, where we caught a matatu (public transport van) to the town nearest the student’s school. From there we took two more motorbikes to her school where the headmistress allowed us 5 minutes with our student to say hellow and snap our photo. After our brief visit with her, we were released to make our return journey by the same means as we’d come. Along the way I received many puzzled stares (white girls don't usually ride motorbikes around here. If they come here at all, they're usually in airconditioned landrovers with Kenyan drivers), had “mzungu!” (white person!) and “how-ah-you!” yelled at me countless times by children and adults alike, and received one proposition of marriage. I ltold the man as graciously as I could “thank you very much, but no. I do not want to become your second wife and take you to America".

We finally arrived back at the home, very dusty, tired and hungry, but triumphant at having completed our mission of taking one photo, at around 4:30 pm. What a day. Now I just have to figure out how to get the other 10 missing photos J

Recent Snapshots

Bittersweet moments

Just before take-off at O’Hare International Airport: Saying a teary goodbye to my family (not sure when I’ll see them next) while my Kenyan boss who hasn’t seen her family in weeks stands by and watches…

Just After Landing in Jomo Kenyatta International Airport: My Kenyan boss has a teary reunion with her family while I stand by and watch….

The price of cross-cultural ministry?

 

Don’t put me in that box!

"How do you know how to make fire?!” – one of my girls exclaiming as they all stare in wonder at my bonfire making skills

“Where did you learn to dance like that?!” – Another one of my girls astonished that I can salsa

"You know how to use an electric sander?!” – the maintenance man when I asked him if I could borrow it to help refinish my kitchen floor

Belatedly realizing I have an audience of about 30 kids/staff while I’m climbing on top of the Ambulance in my Sunday dress to get the spare tire down because the brand new one has two giant thorns stuck in it. “Meladeeth!  Be careful! You’ll get your hands dirty!”

I’m not sure where this “white girls can’t do anything” misconception came from, but apparently lately I’m all about breaking it.

If I had a million dollars

Realizing I need a tissue as tears stream down my face while typing up a new child sponsorship enrollment form for a girl at Hall Mead School*.  She comes to my Bible study each week, and has only recently begun sharing her story with me.  I so wish we could bring her into our full-time residential program. She has the best smile and heart for Jesus. Wants to be a doctor one day. “Thank you Lord that this girl will now have two nutritious meals, school supplies and a quality education at Hall Mead School. Please continue to protect and guide her as she heads up her household of a younger sister and mentally disabled mother in the nearby community.

 

This Beautiful Life

After a long day at the office, sitting in my front garden with a cup of tea, watching the sky change color over the peak of Mt. Kenya. Birds singing. Kids laughing across back field as they head to the dining room for supper.

Lord, it’s moments like these that remind me of the beauty of this place to which you’ve sent me. Thank you.

A Few Prayer Requests

-          Praise that my time in the States in July was so refreshing, and we raised about half of the needed funds for the new classrooms at Maranatha week

-          Praise for new relationships and friendships that are finally beginning to form

-          Please continue to pray for my Bible Study with the middle school girls here

-          We have several teams coming to serve with us in the next few months! Pray that the preparations for their stay will go smoothly, and that their time will be one of mutual encouragement and that God would be glorified through their visits.

*If you’d like to sponsor this girl or another Kenyan child like her, please visit: http://www.kidsalive.org/donations/sponsor-a-child/category/kenya//

Michigan Summer

It's been a little too long since my last update and I apologize for that.  I've been a rather busy girl the last few months. June was spent running around to all of the 5 KAK homes taking photos of all of our kids to send to their sponsors, writing newsletters, collecting stories, hosting guests, planning for future teams and getting everything ready for my 5 weeks trip to the US.

My brother Drew married his college sweetheart in Fort Atkinson Wisconsin on July 14th, and the Lord graciously allowed me to be there for the amazingly special, joyful and God honoring day. Since then, I've been blessed to be able to lay low for the last few weeks at my family's summer cottage on Lake Michigan in Muskegon, MI. This has been a very timely and needed space for me to rest, gain some perspective and recharge for the work God has called me to do. Spending so much quality time with family and close friends (some of whom I haven't seen or heard from in more than a year) has been so good for my heart. I've also LOVED being able to attend church and worship services in English! Not only has it been such a blessing to be able to fully understand what the preacher is saying, there's just something about praising God in ones' own "heart language" that is so soul-filling.

I can't believe my  time in the States is almost come to an end. This coming week is Kids Alive Week at Maranatha Bible and Missionary Conference, and I will be participating in some presentations along with other Kids Alive staff members as we seek to raise the funds to build a kitchen and dining hall for our Hall Mead School in central Kenya. Hall Mead currently serves about 320 children from our residential care programs and the local community, providing a quality, subsidized education, nutrition and care for those precious children who otherwise would not be able to afford to go to school. Right now the "kitchen" is a lean-to shack on the back end of the school compound, and the "dining hall" is the grassy school yard.  It is our hope that this week at Maranatha we will be able to raise the funds to build a proper kitchen and dining hall for our kids and staff.

After Maranatha week, I have about 3 days and then I'm on a plane back to Nairobi. I'm really looking forward to getting back to my Kenyan "routine, seeing friends and all of "my" kids again and getting back to the work and life I've been called to there.

 For scheduling and funding reasons, I don't know when the next time I'll be able to visit the States will be, and so my ticket back to Kenya is "one way" - yikes! Now, I do LOVE my job and life in Kenya, but not knowing when I'll see my American family and friends next is kindof a scary and sad thought for me. Not having that safety net of a return flight is probably a good thing for me though I think - it's teaching me to trust God in a new, deeper way....more on that later :)


Some Prayer Requests:
 - That the Lord would bless our time at Maranatha and we'd be able to raise the necessary funds for our school project
 - that He would use us to be a blessing and inspiration to the guests, residents and staff at Maranatha.
 - Praise for my time at "home"
 - That I would be able to leave here with a fresh perspective and new energy for my work in Kenya
 - travelling mercies

Lost in Translation

Even though here in Kenya I’m mostly surrounded by people who speak English, I’m the only American on staff at KAK right now, so I still often find myself totally confused by what people are saying (and they’re often totally confused by me too). Even Ruth, my British roommate, and I sometimes have moments of total non-communication when we’re talking to each other.

So, I’m working on learning 3 new languages right now – Kiswahili, British English and Kenyan English – all very different from what I’ve grown up speaking, but all equally valid ways of communicating. Languages are always evolving, so who am I to say that the American English is “better” than Kenyan English? I’ve gotten quite a lot of flak (mostly good-naturedly) from some of our British short-term team members about the way I speak and spell (and I’ve usually given it right back to them with comments like “well, we’ve just streamlined your language for you. You’re welcome.”), and I’ve realized that as long as we understand one another, who cares whether the way we’re communicating is the “right way” or not?  

It’s been fun learning these new ways of communicating, but I still have a long way to go. There are still MANY moments throughout my day where I find myself saying “Can you explain what that means?”, “say that again?” or simply “What?” Not being able to understand or communicate well has been a challenge for me at times, but God is teaching me a lot about humility, patience and trust through it all – I’m also much more inclined to laugh at myself these days than maybe I used to be. I have made some pretty funny mistakes, so instead of getting embarrassed, I laugh at myself. And my Kenyan friends and co-workers laugh with me too. And we laugh together when they make funny communication mistakes. And we all grow closer together and understand one another better through the laughter.

 As I’ve been working on improving my language skills, I’ve created a little glossary for myself to help me keep everything straight – some are phrases that I’d never heard before but are just how people say things here, and some are Kenyan pronunciations that were confusing to me at first or Kenyan re-workings of classic English phrases/colloquialisms.  

Here are a few of my favorites:                                        

Kenyan English	My American Translation
Paper Bag	Plastic Grocery Bag
Iron Box	Iron
Sheffard	Shepherd
Biskwit and Moskweetoh	Biscuit and Mosquito
War-thog	Warthog
Lay-oh-pard	Leopard
Lorry	Semi-Truck
Brother (said with a specific, knowing tone)	Boyfriend
From the Blues	Out of the blue
It’ll cost you a leg and an arm	An arm and a leg
Isn’t it?	Do you agree with me?
I’m coming	I’m leaving but I’ll be right back
Fine	Said as a greeting when shaking hands (clever way to preemptively answer the question and skip over the “how are yous”)
Up and Down	Kenyan directional words meaning right or left depending on the grade of the road (if the road is flat, I’m usually completely lost)

Funny conversation Ruth had a while back:

“So Ruth, are you going to the vaganza?"
“What’s a vaganza?"

“I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me."

"I've never heard of a vaganza"

"Well anyway, I guess this isn't the first vaganza because they said this is the extra one”

“Oh I see - An extravaganza!”



I'm getting there - slowly and with a lot of laughter, I'm getting there.

This World is Not My Home

I think sometimes people in full time cross-cultural ministry are tentative about sharing the hard stuff that we sometimes deal with. At least I know I am.  I know personally I’d rather only talk about the joys, blessings and miracles I see God doing here in Kenya because I don’t want anyone to get a wrong impression. I LOVE my life here, and I know this is exactly where God wants me. I feel so much purpose in what I’m doing and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

But life here is hard sometimes. And maybe I’m not being completely honest if I don’t share some of the hard stuff too. This post is a recounting of a dream that I had within the first few months I was here. It was so vivid and felt so real that I had to write it down. I’ve been sitting on this post for a few months now because I wasn’t sure if it was an appropriate thing to share, but I think it is. I think it’s important to be transparent not only about the good things, but about the hard stuff too.

While some of the circumstances in this dream may seem silly or overdramatic, I think the feelings that it highlights are valid and even common for cross-cultural workers. I also think that the lessons that God has taught me through this dream are invaluable and applicable not only to people serving across cultures, but maybe to everyone in some way or another. 

I’m sharing this not because I want sympathy or to make anyone concerned, but because I think it’s worth sharing. And maybe it can be an encouragement to other cross-cultural workers who maybe have had similar feelings at times. And maybe it can help those of you who are not serving abroad to better know how to be praying for those of us who are.

Background: Maranatha is the location of family’s summer cottage on Lake Michigan. It is my safe place - the place that most feels like home and where I feel most like myself.

My dream:

After being in Kenya for some time, I was magically whisked away to a Starbucks at Maranatha – There isn’t actually a Starbucks at Maranatha, but the point is that it is an extremely familiar place where I know all the rules, how to behave, what to do and how to communicate. I’m competent there – maybe even an expert. I understand everything that’s going on around me – what people are doing and why, what they are saying, etc. and I feel known and understood.

 In the dream I was excited to be there, to have a break from life in Kenya and feel like my old self for just a minute. When I entered the Starbucks though, everything was not how I expected it to be. People started talking to me about bands and other American cultural things that I had never heard of. People began pushing and shoving in front of me in line, seemingly on purpose and they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Was I the only one who valued waiting your turn? They took advantage of my niceness for a while but then I actually got in a fist fight with a girl to maintain my position in line. She ended up winning though, and I went defeated to the back of the line.

After waiting in line for what felt like hours, I got up to the counter and found that the menu had changed – I didn’t know what was what or how to order anymore. To top it all off, the barista started addressing me in Kiswahili and all of the other Americans understood her and looked at me like I was crazy for not – I was the one who lived in Kenya after all  - shouldn’t I know more Kiswahili than them?! In the dream I felt so disappointed, confused, bruised and embarrassed. I ran through the crowd of jeering people to the bathroom and locked myself in the stall to cry.

That’s when I woke up and realized that I was actually crying.  I’ve never cried in my sleep before...

This dream is significant in that it highlights a lot of the feelings that I have occasionally struggled with here in Kenya (especially when I first arrived), but often have tried to ignore or pretend aren’t really affecting me. I have felt incompetent, uninformed, unable to understand most of what’s going on around me, misunderstood, sometimes helpless, taken advantage of, lonely and unknown or unable to be fully known.

The fact that in the dream everything happened in a place I had expected to be familiar but wasn’t added weight to the feelings of disappointment and frustration (expectations – so key).

After I calmed myself down, I opened my Bible and read Psalm 120:1 and Psalm 121.

“I took my troubles to the Lord; I cried out to Him, and he answered my prayer”

“I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
where does my help come from?
² My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.

³ He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber;
⁴ indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.

⁵ The Lord watches over you—
the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
⁶ the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.

⁷ The Lord will keep you from all harm —
he will watch over your life;
⁸ the Lord will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore. “

Those passages were exactly what I needed right at that moment. Then I began to pray for strength and peace.  I was reminded that He is the only one who truly knows and understands me and what I’m going through. Other people may be able to encourage me or cry with me or give me words of wisdom at times, but He is the only one who is ALWAYS there for me (time zones don’t mean anything to Him) and always knows and is willing to give me just what I need right when I need it.

 I think that this dream was a gift from the Lord, and that it was meant to remind me that I won’t ever feel truly at home, comfortable or known anywhere in this world. I won’t feel like that until I am with Him.