Running

Each passing year is a lesson in what it is to grieve and hope in this life. I've really struggled this last year with living in the oftentimes painful present rooted in the knowledge of the future. I get lost in the day to day struggles so much that I find myself lost in the darkness of muddling through life on my own. Out of willful pride and a dislike for asking for help, I try hard to buck up and move on. If I've learned anything this last year, it's that I CANNOT live on my own. I am inept, I don't have the capacity to move through a day on my own. And yet, I still try.
Since moving into a place where I live alone, I've seen just how much I struggle with trusting people; and what's more is that my relationship with the Lord has come to a place of silence and shadows because I refuse to trust him. I refuse to share my heart and those places in it that are walled up and kept hidden from all prying eyes. The Lord has been very quiet since December or January of last year. I have pleaded with him to hear my cry and to heal my broken and lonely heart, and yet there has been silence. I see now that my life had been building up to this point. After years of family struggles, deaths, and painful relationships I had finally arrived at a place where my dream seemed to be slipping away from me. And I was alone because I was choosing to walk through certain parts of my life by myself. I wasn't enough.
The tailspin into depression truly began and my Father's Word became to mean very little to me. The hope I for so long believed in didn't bring joy or refreshment. It brought sadness because I didn't think it was mine. I was also really struggling with God's choices for my life, while also beating myself up for my own ineptitude. I felt like God was looking at me with disappointment and for the first time in my life I couldn't find any energy to clean myself up. I also expected Him to finally wash His hands of me; no, I WANTED Him to wash His hands of me. I begged God to just let me be, let me do my own thing apart from Him. I didn't want to be His child because I knew that I would never be a child that deserved His love and grace.




To be continued...

I heard the voice of Jesus say,

"Come unto Me and rest;

Lay down, thou weary one, lay down,

Thy head upon My breast."

Struggle. Enlightenment. Peace. Repeat.

  I can't believe it's been a year and a half since leaving Nairobi. I don't look back enough to see how the Lord revealed himself to me. Reading the post I wrote on this day 2 years ago made realize my expectation of struggle: once a struggle has been wrestled through, you should never struggle with that again, right? How wrong I am. Most of the questions I wrote in that post, I am asking again. Is God good? When is going to be fed up with my sin, and finally let me go? My struggle to trust him wholely continues. In some ways this make me feel hopeless. Will there ever be a day that I wake up completely trusting the Lord, even for a minute of the day?
 

Return-TEST TIME!

  It has been far too long since I have written, and there are so many stories I still would like to share. I returned home almost two weeks ago, but because I take the MCAT this Friday at 8 am I decided I would do my best to remain as disengaged from the re-entry process as I possibly could. I like to think that the re-entry 'box' I built in my heart has stayed firmly together, but this last weekend I felt some cracks beginning to form. I think it is in part stress over this test for med school and in part the overwhelming nature of returning. 

  In the last year the Lord has grown me in understanding what it means to look to him for strength, love and grace, but in the last month I have been trying to run alone. In part it feels like a failure; like all that growth was for naught; like I didn't actually grow in my relationship with the Father. 

  This morning I read from Psalm 40. 

I waited patiently for the Lord; he inclined to me and heard my cry.

He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog,

AND SET MY FEET UPON A ROCK, MAKING MY STEPS SECURE.

He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. 

Many will see and fear, and put their trust in the LORD.

Blessed is the man who makes the LORD his trust,

who does not turn to the proud, to those who go astray after a lie!

  

  The Lord is carrying me. He was with me before I lived in Kenya. He was with me while I lived in Kenya. He is with me again in the states. He is jealous for my heart, but patient and gracious. I praise him for the love and prayers of friends from all over the world. And I pray now for his calming presence that gives me hope and confidence to move one foot in front of the other.

I will post more stories from my time in Kenya over the next several weeks, and probably write some on my re-entry process. And maybe even some pictures:)

Good Goodbyes

  I realize I already posted this week (like yesterday!), but as I read through my last post I couldn't hear any emotion in words. The truth is I have been overwhelmed the last week. Since being here (as I said in my last post), I have seen some of the sad realities of living oceans away from people you love. One reality of missionary life that has really affected me is the number of goodbyes a person may say in a few short months. When I first got here, I saw firsthand how the kids at the international school here have to say goodbye every year to someone, whether it's just a farewell for now, or a I don't know if I'll ever see you again. It's heart breaking. I have watched team members say goodbye to friends, one of the 1-year team members left, then the four interns, a couple friends of mine left, and now I am leaving in two weeks to work with a team in Uganda (leaving me with only about 3 full weeks left in Nairobi).
  Goodbyes are so hard. I know they are a very real part of many peoples' lives, but they are an overwhelming part of life as a missionary. I am feeling the weight of goodbye and in that I am feeling the weight of longing for something more. Something more whole than a relationship cut short due to long distance. Goodbyes leave a bitter taste in my mouth- this isn't how it should be! I am so glad though that many of my goodbyes here are not the end, maybe on this earth, but not for all eternity.
  So how do I say good goodbyes? How do I remain fully engaged in relationships here, while trying to study for the MCAT and plan for my return home? I know it DOESN'T mean sinking into apathy, pulling away into distance, or covering up with humor. Jesus calls me to engage with the pain of goodbye even while I look forward to something brighter and better- even while I look up to the cross for the evidence of the hope I have in him, and laugh with joy that I am still here today and there is a bright future ahead. Still, it's hard to enjoy one place while also being excited about the next place.

  Some of my anxiety comes from what is awaiting me upon my return stateside. I take the MCAT for medical school entrance 2 weeks after I return. I'm nervous about re-engaging with American culture. I'm nervous I won't be able to find a job or internship in a medical setting (I'm so grateful for my afternoon coaching job!), or that I won't be able to find an affordable place to live. I'm most anxious that the Lord will call me to something different than anything I have planned for or mentally prepared for.
  While being here, the Lord has stretched me in ways I didn't know I could stretch. He has kept me in a state of weakness. I can count on my hands the number of times in the last months that I have felt totally confident and at ease in a situation. Through this he has made me aware of how deeply I need him. I need him to speak peace to my anxious heart, joy to my hopeless fears, freedom to my enslaved mind. I need him to guide me. I need his love so I can love, and his forgiveness so I can forgive.

  Saying goodbye to wonderful friends, and a place I have come to love is not going to be easy. The beauty of this part of my journey...I'm not alone. I have a Friend who said goodbye to all his friends (with the knowledge of hope in seeing them again one day soon). Not only is Jesus with me but he understands my tears.

Isaiah 43:1-5

But now thus says the LORD, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you,

O Israel:

"Fear not, for I have redeemed you;

I have called you by name, you are mine.

When you pass through the waters, I will

be with you; 

and through the rivers, they shall not

overwhelm you;

When you walk through the fire you shall not be burned,

and the flame shall not consume you.

For I am the LORD your God,

the Holy One of Israel, your Savior....

Because you are precious in my eyes,

and honored,

and I love you,

I give men in return for you,

peoples in exchange for your life.

Fear not for I am with you....

Goodbyes, Travel, Rest, Beauty

   I can’t believe it’s been a month since my last update! My apologies. I want to make sure I communicate that I am not leaving Kenya in a week as originally planned. Due to the overwhelming support of friends and family I have the opportunity to stay until October. So, for those of you that supported me monetarily I thank you. Thank you so very much for opening up the door to this opportunity. For those of you who have been praying for me, I thank you as well. It is true that the Lord worked in my heart in ways that can only be because He is answering the call of His people to move in my life and in my work here in Kenya. I cannot put words to the depth of my gratitude to the Lord for bringing me here. And I thank you for taking part in the journey of my deepening understanding of the breadth and width and height and weight of the love and grace of the Father that is mine in Christ Jesus.

  The last month has been fairly busy and far from the normal schedule I had in June and July. Because of food poisoning I was unable to climb Mount Kenya with the team, so I had four days all by myself—Karis and Stephen let me stay at their house. It was really nice, not only for the sake of recuperation, but also for the time alone to think, work some, and read (In full disclosure: I definitely caught up on some TV shows!). When the team returned we had a couple days for them to recuperate, then we packed up and drove to the other side of town where we stayed at our team leader’s house for a week. We stayed there because Ambassadors Football Kenya put on a football camp for kids hosted by Rosslyn Academy. I was a blast to work with the kids for five days, and I got to be the “nurse” on duty (it’s not that I enjoyed when kids were injured, but I’m not going to lie, I loved getting to play nurse for the week!)

  From there we left for a few days of debriefing. We spent the first days of August in Naivasha, located in the Great Rift Valley. We stayed in a lovely house in the middle of the country. These days were meant to give the four 2-month interns the space to work through the events and experiences of the summer—it was really good, but I also realized that I was not ready at all to leave Kenya yet or even start answering some of those end-of-the-term kinds of questions. The last day we went to Crescent Island in the middle of Lake Naivasha, where we walked among herds of giraffes, buffalo, zebras, wildebeest, gazelle and countless birds. It was BEAUTIFUL! The interns left the next night, which was a sad parting. I became aware of the reality of the number of goodbyes missionaries say.   

  That Friday, a couple days after saying goodbye to JoJo, Katie, Jared and Will, I had the opportunity for some rest and relaxation on the coast with the Rigby’s and some of their friends. The flight to Mombasa was short (got to look down on Kilimanjaro from the air), and our taxi was ready for us as we walked out of the airport. The air was warm and humid and the hint of ocean seemed to float all around. The drive to Kilifi, where we stayed, was longer than expected, but seeing the coastal countryside was awesome. I never have really been able to wrap my mind around the fact that I am in Kenya, and passing through small towns and seeing the outskirts of villages I am faced with the reality that I am, in fact, in Kenya! I don’t really know how to explain it exactly.

  The house we stayed in was INCREDIBLE! The views were spectacular. The pool was cool. The food was AMAZING. And the company was refreshing. The week was spent resting, playing games, chatting, swimming, and exploring the area around us (mostly, I slept). The coral reef was just down the steps, through a tunnel, and over a freshwater creek. And the village was just a walk or ferry ride across the creek.

  I returned home seven days later tanner, rested and with pinkeye, looking forward to a newly planned trip to Mount Kenya with three other ladies. That story is a bit longer so I will save it for my next post.

  

  

Another Anniversary

  This Sunday the team started the hike up Mount Kenya. As a disappointing turn of events, I got sick Saturday night and was basically asleep Sunday and Monday. When I woke up today I realized I had totally forgotten the date. Yesterday was the anniversary of my oldest brother's death. Thirteen years.
  The last month, I have felt heavy with sadness. I miss him. And I'm sad that when my family gathers together there will always be a piece missing. I remember thinking at the two year mark how crazy it seemed that one day Clayborne would be gone 10 years. I couldn't fathom what it would be like when I was much, much older and probably in a place where no one would know that part of my story, or have ever known him. Sitting just past the 10 year mark, the shock of grief has abated, but there are days when I feel like I am back on that river bank; or in the car driving to the hospital; or pulling up to the house with innumerable amounts of people there to support our family.
  Each year it seems there is something particularly difficult. At one point, I really struggled with remembering his face and his voice. I felt like I was forgetting him. Then I struggled with the fact that I knew him as a kid, and there was so much about who he was that I didn't know. More recently, I struggled with the realization that most of the people I meet won't have known him and that his life is something I have to share in order for people to know about it. Sometimes I grow weary of that, and I think it comes from a place that is tired of engaging with the brokenness of this life.
  Since being in Nairobi I have seen and heard so much brokenness. The struggle to hope is real and difficult. I have realized that rarely do I celebrate my brothers life. I often mourn his loss, and hope for that eventual reunion. But I don't celebrate the gift of his life.
  It is so hard for me to rest in the Father's arms and receive the hope of Jesus. It's hard for me to admit my pain to the Father in the same way that it is difficult for me to rejoice with the Father over the life of my brother who is with the Father in heaven. How do I grieve the brokenness I have experienced, made real by my brother's death, while celebrating the work of a great God who gives life? How do I celebrate Clayborne's life while mourning his death?
 This is one of those times that I want to perfectly handle, but I am overwhelmed by the realization that I CANNOT respond and interact with reality in a perfect manner. I can only know how to respond with the guidance of the Spirit, the grace of the Father and the blood of Christ.

  I miss Clayborne, and by God's grace and guidance I long to say that in sadness and in joy.

Isaiah 40:6b-8

All flesh is grass, and all its beauty is like the flower of the field.

The grass withers, the flower fades when the breath of the LORD blows on it;

surely people are grass.

The grass withers, the flower fades, 

but the word of our God will stand forever.

Hangry Hippos, the Great Rift Valley, and a Cracked Cup

  Almost two weeks ago, the other interns, my boss/mentor and her husband, and two other Serge team guys and I went camping on the shores of Lake Naivasha in the Great Rift Valley. I can't say how incredible it was to get out of the city. The air was fresh, there was vegetation and there was camp fire! As we sat around the fire that night, after having an incredible camp fire meal, our eyes were drawn towards a large moving mass near the shores edge. There was a hippo! Of course I had been told we might see hippos during the night while they feast on grass and grab near the waters edge, but I had forgotten about the possibility. We walked closer and watched the hippo eat. You know that feeling you get when you look out over the ocean or stare into a fire? I had similar feeling as a stared at an animal that could easily kill me with a flick of its head. And this guy wasn't even full grown!
  After a while he went out of the light and we returned to our game, but before going to bed we took one last walk down the shore to see if we could spot any more hippos. At one point we heard rustling that sounded like it was coming straight at us so we backed away from the road and farther inland. After waiting several minutes we saw a huge gray shape moving and slowly a mama and baby hippo made their way toward the supposedly electric fence. We stood in awe for minutes but edged a bit closer when suddenly the mama looked straight at us and snorted; we took several steps back and tried to move into shadows. After some time, she seemed satisfied that we were not a threat and continued grazing. To top the excitement, a GIGANTIC male hippo slowly moved into the light. The boats behind him had seemed so large earlier that day when I had seen all the people in them, but with that big boy standing next to them the enormity of his size overwhelmed me. It was incredible!

  The next morning we had awesome pancakes and bacon and sausage, then packed up and left for Mount Longonot. I had been warned that the hike would be hard, but as we started the ascent to the crater of the long-extinct volcano I began to truly struggle. The path was dusty and often slippery because of the loose sand-like dirt that lay upon the way. Halfway up we took a long break under a hut, frustration was building in my heart as I realized how unfit I have become. My physical weakness was overwhelming and as I looked out over the picturesque valley below I felt in my heart its weakness. To be able to create such a beautiful landscape, much less trek its terrain takes power and discipline that I could never possess. I felt so in awe of the God who made all that was before me. We continued on, making it to the top in time for lunch. The view was astounding: standing in the middle of the path on the ridge you could see the Rift Vally all around. Facing the direction of Nairobi, you had a sharp descent within several feet of your body on either side.
  After lunch we started the journey around the ridge of the volcano. Volcanic rock made up what we walked upon and the vegetation around the volcano outlined the distance to which the lava once spouted. The nerd in me was loving it, and part of me wished I could go back as a member of any one of the many scientific research teams the visit Mount L. Much of the walk around was enjoyable, some was spent scrambling and climbing up soft, powdery dirt and the rest was spent trying not to go to fast down the peaks. As we finished circling the crater our guide told us we should hurry down because of the herd of buffalo that makes its way up the path to the top of the crater. So we began the descent at a very past, but quiet pace. I was tired and could only think of how it would feel to wash off the deep layer of dust that had settled over me.
  Nearing the point in the path where the guide had seen the buffalo, we slowed down. As we passed by the heard at one point we heard a great snort. The guide signed us to stop, turn and run back up the path a bit. He threw a bunch of rocks into the forest, beat the ground with the stick he carried, and made low grunting noises. After a time, he was satisfied it was safe and we continued on. At one point I was within 20 yards of a Buffalo. It felt a little crazy and unsafe, but sooo very cool.

  The clinic, located within the compound of a small primary school, has also been pretty busy as we've been planning and preparing a health project for the students. The goal of the project was to chart each of the students growth development, give them full body and skin check ups, de-worm them, assess their cognitive development, and check their vision. We started going through the youngest class on Tuesday of this week, and it has been so fun to interact and call by name the children I have been seeing through the window the last couple months. Besides the youngest ones, the students can speak English pretty well, and since the students are a mixture of Somalis and Kenyans and live so close to both a Somali and Kenyan neighborhood, they also speak both of those languages as well. It was so fun to work with those kids!

  At a primary school in Kibera slum, I've also been teaching the kids how to plant and grow sunflowers, as well as started going through the jobs of the different parts of the plant. And there were several flowers starting to grow! While I was doing that the other interns were either teaching an art class (how to draw and paint animals) or teaching the story of Noah and the flood to the kids. The last day we were there, we hung up a big, painted Ark and put the children's' animals within it. It was fun to see the kids enjoying the display of their work.

  As far as my own heart is concerned, I have had a long, tiring 6 weeks. For a while I thought that I was weary because of what I was experiencing and because of the new, busy schedule, but in the last couple weeks I have also found myself pulling away from people here. I was getting tired of engaging in cross-cultural friendships and could feel in my heart a frustration that people were giving me the energy I wanted and needed to make it happily through the day. The truth is that I proudly think of myself as an amazing lover of people, and my pride has only swelled as I have judged myself a successful cross-cultural friend-maker (terms adopted and defined by Mae Mae's full-length dictionary and thesaurus). The question then emerges as to why I would be so tired if an extrovert like me gains energy from interacting and engaging with people: people are not the truest, purist source of life. In Psalm 63, David speaks of thirsting for God so that he looks to God in the sanctuary. He then says that God's steadfast love is better than life, and goes on to say that his soul will be satisfied when he meditates on his God.
  This isn't my heart. My heart seeks for peace, energy and rest through other people, the excitement of new places, the thrill of being helpful, the rush of being sacrificial, and so on. Who is my portion? Whom do I seek in the sleepless nights? Where do I look when my cup cracks and won't hold any water? Who is my life, my light my all?
  And my struggle to rest in his arms goes deeper than an independent spirit, it comes from a deep disbelief in the character of God I follow. Can I trust him with my heart, with my vulnerable weakness? Can I let go the belief that I can one day be as mighty as God? Can I let go of my self-awareness? I can't. Not on my own and definitely not without the prodding and leading of the Holy Spirit.

Psalm 103:1-5, 8 & 10

Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me,

    bless his holy name! Bless the Lord, O my soul,

    and forget not all his benefits, who forgives all your iniquity,

    who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit,

    who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,

who satisfies you with good

    so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's.

The Lord is merciful and gracious,

    slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. 

He does not deal with us according to our sins,

    nor repay us according to our iniquities.