Where Is the Outcry?

I was riding through the slum one day, just looking out the window at the people passing by, when I noticed a little girl. She looked to be about five years old, with her hair shaved close to her head and carrying a small tattered backpack over her tiny shoulders. She wore the characteristic uniform of a school girl and I instantly knew she would be walking home from a day in class.
Now looking back I can't imagine what it was that made her stand out. But I'm sure I'll never forget it now.
She walked with her head bent low, as if trying not to draw any attention to herself, but as she passed by this man (who looked to be about 25 years old) he stepped partly into her way and stroked her cheek in a sexual gesture.
No one said anything, no one noticed, and in a moment he had moved on and she was on her way again.
It took me months to realize why that had disturbed me so much. I had heard stories of young girls who had lost their lives because they had bled to death after being attacked on the way home from school. I talked with girls who slept in the same bed as their mom's "guests".
If a man could make a gesture such as that in public to a girl who looked to be about five times younger than he was and get away with it, then I could only imagine the horrible things that went on in secret, in the dark when no one else was watching.
And since then I have wondered often to myself, where was the outcry? Did it become so much a part of their culture that they saw nothing of it? That though some might acknowledge it as wrong, nothing could be done about it?

Just in this one year alone there have been 17 suicides in our valley, all under the age of twenty-five. Afew days ago there was yet another one, a young boy from East Wenatchee.

I was talking with someone from our church about it and she said something that really hit me hard. She said, "What I find hard about all of this is, where is the outcry?" Instantly my mind went back to the image of that girl in the slum so far away. I again felt the injustice and the great sadness I had felt when I saw that a culture could become so twisted in its views and its ways that its very own children suffered for it. And that those who survive suffering would become twisted themselves. They would become a mere product of their culture that would ultimately help to shape their culture even further.

And then I saw it.

We are the same.

Our children are suffering too.

And in an instant my heart broke for our culture. Where is the outcry for the child who felt it was okay to take his own life? What is being done? What can we do?
When did it become okay to take God out of our schools? I know many don't believe in God but let me word it this way. When did it become okay in our culture to take positive influence of any kind out of our schools? When did it become okay to take out any BIT of good for our children, knowing that there is so much bad taking place? Why are we not equipping them better?

How many of our children are going to suffer before we start to cry out for them? To cry out against the culture of suicide?
I have mourned for the culture of Kibera (the slum I did ministry in). I have mourned for the children there. But I have not mourned for my own, or the children here. And I am sorry for my part in the silence I have helped to make.

It takes more to speak out against a culture of depression and suicide then just to say that it is wrong. It takes doing something about it.

They say that being a parent can open one's eyes to how God can love us unconditionally.

I'm not a parent (surprising, I know) but there's something about these kids that's been teaching me a similar lesson. I didn't realize it until just a few minutes ago when I was telling a friend about them and couldn't help feeling a bit surprised at the things I said.

Here's what I realized:

I love them.

They're selfish. At first glance they see me only for what I can give them. They don't understand who I am. There's a good chance they never will.
They beat eachother up and laugh when one of them gets hurt. They're dirty, used and abused. They're neglected and starved. They're poor and forgotten.

They're innocent. They're children. They need me. They love it when I smile at them. They love it when I make them laugh. They need my encouragement. They need my presence.

Their laughter makes me smile as soon as I hear it. Their hugs touch me in ways I can't explain. When they sing there's nothing I'd rather do than just listen.

My heart comes alive at just the thought of them. I cherish their names. I cherish the time they take to be with me when I come to see them. I find I want to be known by them...not for myself but for them. I want them to remember I am their fan, I believe in them, I love them, I know their names, that they are important and remembered by someone, and that that makes them special.

I look at these kids and I know what I should think: that they are the ones that should be grateful to me for being with them like this. But I don't think that at all. Because all I can feel these days is gratitude for getting to be with them. I'm so grateful to know them, to be a part of their lives. I am the one who is grateful, and I'm even grateful for that.

 The truth is, I had no idea that any of this pertained to how God sees me. I didn't even see how it was possible until I felt it in my own heart for these kids. These precious, little ones that I already feel I could give up so much for after only knowing them for a few months.

All  I can say is, He is so good to us. His children. Whether in the slum or out of it. And I never want to stop thanking Him because of it.

Just Uploading Some Thoughts

Words can’t express how I’m feeling right now. Maybe instead of trying to describe it I’ll just explain the instances that have made me feel all of these things.

Beatrice and I talked to a teacher of a small Christian preschool today. Her school is just down the street from our home.

She was telling us about the kids there and shared some stories of other kids she’d seen or heard of. She told us a story of a three year old boy who got locked in a freezer. Whether he was dead already or not she was unsure. Her friend found him and fainted.
She told us this story of a house maid who injected one of the kids she cared for with her HIV positive blood. The boy was three. He’s seven now, fighting to stay alive but still lagging considerably behind the other kids. He attends this teacher’s school.
She told us this story of coming across the body of a new born baby girl who had been done away with and thrown out in a paper bag. Dogs had come and eaten away at the body, and that’s how this teacher found her.
Beatrice said last week before I came she had found a new born baby in a garbage ditch in the Kibera slums. It was the first one she’d seen since starting the ministry, but she said that as she was walking away in shock someone came up to talk to her about it. They told her they were surprised it was the first one she’d seen, normally they see 3 or 4 dead babies a week.

It’s normal for a young girl to pay 5,000kshillings to be taken somewhere and get an abortion done, fast and easy.

There have been children in this King’s Kids Academy in the Kibera Slums who have just disappeared. Tom and Beatrice try to trace them but they normally can’t. Sometimes they find out the child’s fate, and it’s usually that the child is sent back to the village to possibly starve to death or worse. Sometimes they’re married off (the oldest child in the school is 13).
Sometimes they’re disposed of…

I just want to hold those babies, to save them. Everything in me wants to scream it’s not fair and to do something about it.
But the truth is there is no way that I can fix it. There is no way that I can stop the injustice. I can’t stop the killing of babies and the abortions.

I can’t stop the children disappearing.

I don’t have an answer for those who don’t have enough money, enough love, enough food. I don’t.

I didn’t have an answer for Alisha, a thirteen year old girl from the slums of Kibera who was rejected by her abusive aunt and kicked out a few days ago (short story: starved and neglected she wished to go home to her mother in the village. But her mother was too poor to help her in the first place and so sent her to the slums…she’s been unwanted everywhere she’s gone).

What is the answer for her? Who wants her? I don’t have the money to support her. I don’t have a place she can go. I can’t guarantee her safety in the future. I don’t know.

And neither did anybody else. Nobody knew how to help her. Even if she found a tolerable place in the slums it’d be doubtful that anybody would show her the love and attention she needs. She needs healing it’s doubtful she’ll ever get.

I kept asking, “God what is your future for such a girl?”

That seems to be the only thing I’ve found myself praying these days…God, what is your future for such a baby? Such a boy? Such people? God, nobody can help this child. I see no way that she can be helped. Lord, it’s all yours. Please help her. Please. I beg you, do something…do anything...please, help. Please…

So with Alisha…I did the only thing I could do in the short time God gave me with her: I held her. I held her and prayed and cried along with the teachers of the school.

Whatever happens to her is out of my control, but in the time given to me to be with her I know what I will do. I know the best thing I can do…I can love her. I can pray with her. I can hold her and listen to her, show her as best as I can that she’s wanted.

These kids…I don’t have answers for them. I can’t save them. I don’t even know if I can help them. A lot of them I can’t. I can’t…

But in the short time God has given me to be with them…some of them I only get to see for a moment, others maybe longer…I know what I can do. I can give them a hug. I can make them smile, laugh. I can sing songs with them. Play games with them.

And in that short time, through those small actions I can show them a greater truth. The truth that they are loved, cherished and adored. The truth that they have a place in this world just as I do. I can show them that the place they belong isn’t in their homes or their countries, but in their hearts. And that place is with Jesus. He accepts them. He loves them, cherishes them and adores them.
He is all about the forgotten, abandoned, rejected and lost. He is all about what we are not.

“For God chose what is low and despised in the world, the things that are not, to bring to nothing the things that are.” –Paul (1 Corinthians 1:28)

Kernal of Wheat

Kernel of Wheat

Sometimes God leads us places that scare us. Sometimes He asks us to give up things that we never would have imagined giving up before. What is the beauty in that?

There’s beauty in the fall. Surrendering things to God often brings people to their knees.

There’s beauty in letting go and realizing that you’re free now, and that everything’s going to be alright just because He’s holding you so close.

There’s beauty in watching as you go from fear to freedom, as God takes hold of your empty hands and begins to guide you in ways that you could never have thought possible.

It’s an amazing feeling to watch as a void forms in your heart from all of the things you’ve given up only to be filled with something completely new: peace, an indescribable peace. And joy that goes beyond understanding or circumstance.

It’s beautiful to see things you couldn’t see before and to understand a point of view in life that causes hope in the midst of sorrow and joy at the end of tears.

And it’s a beautiful feeling to realize that God loves you for more than what you can offer Him. It’s funny…before I started laying down my rights (everything I was holding in my hand) I thought they were what He wanted. I thought He wanted my life- my job, my family, my hopes and dreams, everything. I thought He wanted to be in control of them. But it wasn’t until I let go of these things that I realized that wasn’t what He was looking for. He was looking for my hand.

He just wanted my hand. It’s hard to hold onto someone’s hand when it’s holding other things so tightly already…but when it’s just an empty hand it’s easy to hold and not let go. It’s an amazing feeling to realize that God loves me far more than all that I can give Him. I never would’ve realized that had I not given up everything and seen how He loves me when I have nothing left.

All these things didn’t come to be realized right away. It’s hard to see beauty in losing things. I think it always will be hard to lose things.

But it’s worth it.

It always will be.

For those of you who don’t know there’s a potential that I could be going to Kenya after finishing the school I’m attending now. I would go and work in the slums of Nairobi. Its five square miles of 2.5 million people who live in the poorest of circumstances and are considered to be the lowest of low. The people live in their own waste. I would be working with the kids in this environment for anywhere between 1-6 months.

It’s hard to not be scared at this point. There’s honestly no guarantee that I won’t get seriously sick or something. God doesn’t promise tomorrow for any of us, as I have clearly seen since coming here. Death is so normal here…no matter who you are. And going out to Kenya to work in places where it can be dangerous means I have to be prepared to give my life up now.

 How do I give that up? How do I give up my rights to a normal life with the ones I love? It’s honestly so hard…Sometimes I just think about the fact that my sister is getting married soon and it makes me want to cry. Because even now I want to be home with her (Kaihla I miss you so much). I have to be ready to give that all up though. I have to be ready to not return home in case something happens and I know I won’t get to.

This is where laying down my rights gets hard…I have to lay down my rights (and keep them down) of seeing my family again. I have to lay down my rights to get married. I have to lay down my rights to my reputation because even as people read this I’m sure that I’m going to be misunderstood (understandably).

Realizing the need to lay all of this down was pretty hard. It is the worst part about it all. But God has been so good to me…

One thing He taught me that’s really helped happened while I was praying a couple months ago about staying longer in Africa. I felt Him tell me that He’s not going to make me stay.

This was a bit odd to me until one day I realized what He meant by it: it’s my choice. It always has been and it always will be. I can stay or go and it won’t make a difference in His love for me because His love for me depends on deeper and greater things than just what I can give Him or do for Him. So no matter what I choose He’ll love me just the same and be proud of me just the same.

Here’s the other part to that:

I believe now that He doesn’t choose suffering for us. I don’t believe He wants anyone to suffer. We are blessed if we suffer for Him because He is with us in it and through it. In life we have two major choices: to suffer with Him or to suffer without Him. But when we live a life with Him then we always have the promise of joy after sorrow and hope in the midst of our suffering. We live a life where the best is always yet to come. That’s the difference between a life with Him and one lived without Him. He creates peace and eases our hurts until He can guide us through our struggles to a brighter and better day than the one before. We know of His guidance and love and His wild pursuit of our confidence in His love for us. Can we believe Him, though, is the question.  And whether we do or not we live out our lives for Him in the promise of a better day than the rest. It makes sense in a way that can only be understood by the ones who live in this way. But it’s a way that’s been made for all- it’s paved by grace, not judgment- love, not fear.

This is why I think that when we who believe in Him suffer and die for His sake He’s touched. It pleases Him and is so precious to Him. It’s because He doesn’t choose that kind of life for us, we choose that kind of life for Him. Why would I want to live my life out in any other way than this?

This is the kind of life that will make a difference to people. Not because it removes their suffering but because it offers them a hope that cannot be denied. It gives them faith and comfort in the midst of suffering. He’s with us.

The next thing I’ve been learning is that part of God’s will for us lies in who we are and not just where we are, what we’re doing, and who we’re with. And if we let Him He will guide us in all of these points, not just one or two. It’s our choice to let Him though.

I realized that part of who I am is going to be changed as I make my choice of whether to stay or to go home. I realized that the reasons I had for going home are completely selfish and I have the chance to feed that selfishness or to fight it by taking the second option instead.

If I stay for no other reason than that I don’t want to go home in selfishness then that, to me, is reason enough. And I will fight for that reason with all my heart because I don’t want to make a decision like that with the wrong heart... I won’t be the only one to suffer for it if I do. I believe that the way someone finishes one thing determines the way they enter the next.

Even having learned all of these things I’ve mentioned so far I still had major doubts about God’s love for me if He’s willing to guide me into danger. I really felt stuck between a rock and a hard place for quite some time now. If I choose to live a life without laying down my rights then I lose the greatest treasures I’ve ever known in life. If I choose to live a life with my rights laid down, however, it could mean that I die young or that I lose the life I want to live back home in America where there’s a margin of difference in safety as compared to Africa or some other third world country.

How could God love me as much as He says He does if I lose everything and spend the rest of my life here suffering? How could He love me more than the people that I’m suffering under and suffering for, if He knew that I would and sent me anyways? How could He allow me to die young?

One day I was praying and talking to Him about how scared I was at the chance of dying young.  His response is one that I’ll never forget:

“Would you like me to extend your life? It’ll mean more suffering for you if I do.”

I never thought of it that way before. My days are numbered because He knows I’ll suffer more if I live here longer than what He’s appointed me to live.

Probably one of the biggest fears I’ve been suffering with is the fear that I’d die because He didn’t care enough about my life to let me have the one I wanted. Like many kings and military leaders in history who have said of their soldiers, “what’s a few lives compared to the freedom of a country?” I believed God was saying the same about my life. What’s the life of one compared to the lives of many who would be saved because of her witness?

But I don’t believe it’s like that anymore.

I confess that I don’t understand why or how it’s not, but I still believe it’s not. Because I believe that He is for me, and that no matter how scared or weak I am I can believe that He will never forsake me. Especially in the times I am scared and weak. And I can remember that, regardless of what comes. I know that He is for me and nothing else matters. It no longer matters what suffering comes my way, I know it’s not because He chooses it for me- I’ve already chosen it for Him. I know that He is for me no matter what and will deliver me regardless of what that deliverance looks like. And I know that He will never forsake me- ever.

There’s one final thing that I now know concerning these matters.

I was sitting in class this last week singing songs and praying with everybody else in the DTS. As I looked around the room I saw so many reactions to the feeling that God was there in the room with us. I saw people lifting their hands, people swaying, people with their eyes closed, people with their heads down. Something occurred to me in that moment- these people came from so many different homes, environments and cultures within Africa, yet all of them were changed by the same hope that we all had experienced and were even then experiencing.

They were being changed- I had seen change in every one of them since starting the DTS. They were mostly the kids whose parents thought weren’t going to make it in life- the tough, rebellious kids. And here they were, worshiping the Lord in full reverence of who He is and everything He has been to them so far.

I realized then that He is the change in them- in us. We all have been changed by Him in such drastic ways…It had never been more evident to me than in that moment. Because He loves us so much…He believes in us whether we believe in Him or not.

For God chose what is low and despised in the world, the things that are not to bring to nothing the things that are…that verse was once spoken about me. Now I see how it is true for others as well. These kids in the slums of Nairobi…It is very evident that most of them aren’t going to live that long.

I’m scared of just giving up the choice of living a long life. Those kids don’t even have that choice. I’m scared of giving up my hopes and dreams, my choice to seek happiness with a husband and children of my own one day. Those kids don’t even have that choice. I’m scared of giving up the choice to gain wealth and security. Those kids don’t even have that choice.

What do I have that I can’t give up for them? The truth is I have nothing that I can’t give up for them so that they can have the hope that I have. So that one day they will lack nothing, but will dance on streets of gold that’ll look cheap compared to the joy of knowing their Maker and belonging to a family that will never die; cheap compared to never going hungry again, never worrying or fearing, never shedding another tear.

For the joy of seeing hope in just one person I am willing to give up my hopes. For the joy of seeing one person gain laughter I am willing to shed more tears. For the joy of seeing one person love another selflessly I am willing to be hated. For the joy of seeing children believe that God has a future for them I am willing to give up my future. I am willing to give up this life that they may have eternal life.

Is that such a small price for me to pay? No, I don’t believe it is. Even Jesus was afraid for His life:

“Now my heart is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour.

Father, glorify your name!”

 He knew what it was worth, and now so do I.

I understand so much more about laying down my life now and the value of surrendering in Jesus’ name. I’ve seen it in action, and with this trip to Kenya I will hopefully get to see it in action even more.

“I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.”

-Philippians 1:20-21

All of this isn’t to say that I’m not going to see my family again or get married and have a family of my own or anything. It just means that it’s in God’s hands, and I’m trusting Him with whether I do or don’t. And all of this isn’t to say that going to die (breathe, mom. Just breathe), it just means that I’m going to die to myself from now on. And I know that whether here or in heaven such an act will cause even my greatest hopes to be fulfilled in ways more beautiful and incredible than I can imagine.

“’Sir,’ they said, ‘we would like to see Jesus.’ Philip went to tell Andrew; Andrew and Philip in turn told Jesus.

Jesus replied, ‘the hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. The man who loves his life in this world will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be. My father will honor the one who serves me.”

-John 12: 21a-26

Focus: Lost and Found

    So I was praying this morning and came to a realization that I felt like sharing.

    In life it doesn't matter what our circumstances are or how impossible they may be/seem. It also doesn't matter how mundane they may be/seem. Either way, whether we live our lives out in quietness or in chaos, one thing remains true: Our focus.

    2 Chronicles chapter 20 is about a King of Judah who went through a very tough situation. A vast army was coming up against his country; he was about to be pressed in on all sides. He called out to all Judah and waited for those who would come. When everyone had arrived he began to pray. At the end of a very long, heartfelt prayer he said this:

"Lord we don't know what to do, but our eyes are on you."

Simple really, but it's changed how I look at my life right now in drastic ways.
   
I don't need to spend my energy being focused on the fact that I'm in Africa, a somewhat hazardous place. I don't need to spend my energy being focused on the people or the culture. I don't need to be focused on the past and home, and I certainly don't need to focus on the future and what God has planned for me.
    In the midst of all of these questions, doubts and fears..In the midst of this worry without peace, I honestly don't know what to do. All I know is one thing. I know where my eyes are supposed to be.
   
And that's simply on Him.

    I had the privelage of spending two weeks out in a barren land where there was little water and nothing else. I had the privelage of getting dirty (my dirt had dirt on it) and dusty. I had the privelage of picking trash out of thorn bushes and cleaning out squatties. I had the privelage of beginning and ending very long days with prayer for everybody else but myself and struggling with it. I had the awesome privelage of getting to work and sweat and watch others do the same to earn what they have. I had the awesome privelage of suffering and facing trials in each and every day that dawned, from before sunrise to after sunset, with the solid reminder that my trials and struggles are few compared to the people I was with. I got to know what that feels like. I got to cry and laugh at the many bitter sweet moments I had, bitter because of suffering and sweet because of hope.
 
  In these last two weeks we had our mini outreach in a place called Ing'Karet. It is one of the places that people here often dread going to because it's nothing but dust and thorns. But in these last two weeks, in the midst of many struggles, I saw that there's people who need hope there too.
     It was a challenge. I learned many things, one of them being that a team that is divided really cannot stand. Unfortunately our DTS wasn't unified at all and it really showed at the beginning of our first week there. I've been praying for unity ever since.
     I also learned that loving people doesn't mean loving them only if they're lovable. No one is called to love in that way. 1 Peter 1:22 says, "Now that you have purified yourselves by obeying the truth so that you have sincere love for your brothers, love one another deeply, from the heart (some early manuscripts say from a pure heart)."
    I purify myself by obeying the truth so that I have sincere love for my brothers (and sisters). Well the truth is about loving my neighbor as myself, regardless. It's about praying for my enemies and showing kindness to those who've hurt me. I should never love people because they deserve it, but because I am loving just as Christ is loving.

------

Best moment

    We did alot of teaching. I got to lead devos in front of the DTS class and then preach a sermon to the class and a group of masai women. It's funny because I always wanted to speak to the women..they've been through so much and have so little that just the chance to offer them some hope is something I'd kill for (figuratively speaking, of course haha).
   See, Masai women are seen more as furniture than actual human beings. They are born and raised to believe that they're nothing but an item, a posession. Value is not something they'd normally place on themselves. In fact, in Masai culture women have less value than cattle.
    At a very young age a masai girl is taken out, female-circumcized and given to a man normally about twice her age. It's alright for the man to force himself on her (mutual love and affection between a man and a woman isn't something they understand. We had the first Christian Masai wedding in history out in Ing'Karet about two weeks ago, and right before it took place the young girls out there were sat down and taught what a wedding is and all about how God designed marriage to be. It was amazing). It's also alright for any man in the boma (village) who is around the same age as the girl to force himself on her because when she bears a child it would technically belong to her husband since she's his property.
    These women are beat, neglected and taken advantage of. Some have awful names..like Sin or Death (Can you imagine your parents naming you Sin? Having that name be the first things spoken over you when you were born?). They're taught nothing of they're own beauty and self worth.
    I hope that now you can see a bit of the reason why I'll always kill for the chance to speak a little bit to these women. I don't care if they've heard the word 'loved' a million times after starting the fellowship (church), it's still not enough. Not nearly enough.
    I spoke to them about the woman caught in adultery. I didn't focus so much on her act of adultery as I did on her sin. In the message I asked them to picture themselves in her spot and went into detail about 3 things: herself, her audience, and the man who'd be standing behind her. When I spoke on 'herself' was when I had the women begin imagining themselves in her place. I spoke on sin and what it looks like, how not one person on the planet hasn't sinned (I included scripture on these points) and how what we've earned by our actions is death.
    When I spoke on her audience I asked them to imagine that everyone they've ever hurt was standing in front of them. I asked them to imagine that everything they've ever done was facing them- what would it look like?
    And then I spoke on the man standing behind the woman caught in adultery (Jesus). I talked of God, who He was and how He took on flesh and walked Earth. I talked about His intimacy and His greatness. Then I told them that out of everyone facing them He is the one who loves them the most. But that He's also the one that we've hurt the most because it was His laws that we broke. He created the laws and He designed them with love, for us. That's why He can forgive all of our sins, because they were done against Him first and foremost.
    Then I talked about His last response to the angry crowd: "If any one of you is without sin you may be the first to throw a stone at her." I read them the last few verses that say that everyone left except the two of them: the woman and Jesus.
    I talked about how out of everyone in the whole universe Jesus is the only one who could condemn her (and you and me). But instead He let her go, but the price He paid for that (and us) was His death on the cross...and I went into detail about His death and resurrection and they're opportunity to be saved by believing. Afterwards I awkwardly gave an altar call and it looked like there was no response.
    But the next day we went on a boma walk and my group went to a boma where a few of the women who heard the message the day before were there. One of them accepted Jesus! It was amazing! and she remembered me! Then another woman who wasn't at the fellowship came forward to accept Jesus! It had to be one of the best times in the two weeks we were there. It was incredible.

Funniest Moment

If I thought the squatties in YWAM Arusha were awful, the ones in Ing’Karet were ten times worse. Primarily because we’re such a big group that we all had to do our business in the outside ones. Grosssss…ugh.

We also had to shower in the outside stalls but there is an extreme water shortage so our “showers” consisted of a bucket with five liters of water at most. For anyone reading this who can’t convert, that amounts to VERY LITTLE water. And because it was built in the same hut as the squatties we often came out smelling a bit worse than when we went in.

So one evening while everyone was eating I went out to take a shower (there’s a push-and-shove policy here that leaves very little room for courtesy as I’ve ever learned it before so the only time I have to shower is when everyone else is busy haha). It was still light enough outside that I could see everything up until I stepped into the shower room. I noticed that there were dark shapes on the floor but thought nothing of it. We find rocks in the stalls all the time.

So I started getting my head wet to lather and rinse when all of a sudden I felt this big, heavy rubbery thing start crawling up my foot!! So I screamed and shook whatever it was off. The girls in line for the shower heard me and started freaking out, wondering what was going on, but I was so panicked that I couldn’t say anything. My only thoughts were ‘okay, I saw the thing run over to that corner. I’m over here, it’s over there, I’m just going to rinse my hair and get the heck out of here!’ So I rinsed my hair as fast as I could and unlocked the door and jumped out of the stall.

News Flash: I don’t speak Swahili.

So these poor ladies in line saw me running out of the stall and freaking out but had no idea what I was saying!! After a while of trying to get them to understand I gave up and ran to get my flashlight to see what the rubbery thing on the floor of the stall was, but when I got back to the stall there was NOTHING THERE. Holy crap. I’m pretty sure that I flipped out even more than any of us three could ever have thought possible. By then the ladies had guessed what had happened and were having their own little freak-out party, which made everything that much more hilarious. I’ve never seen either of them laugh so hard. Ever.

Needless to say I went the rest of the two weeks with as minimal shower time as possible.

Worse Moment

On the last day we were all cleaning and packing and getting ready for the bus ride home. I set my Bible and Mp3 player down to mop and both went missing. My bible turned up in another spot but my Mp3 player did not.

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    By the end of the two weeks our team had become more unified and I think we all grew in our relationships with God. It was a very good (and very challenging) two weeks.
    We spent the rest of the first week doing different chores and a few boma walks, then for the next week we had class out there. The teacher was from Kenya and spoke on the wounded heart, rejection and healing.
    At the end of the two weeks we finally came home (back to the base in Arusha) and I don't think any of us could've been happier. I took my first hot (bucket) shower since coming to Africa!! It was absolutely glorious. Cleanliness, for sure, is next to godliness :) At least in my opinion, anyway.
    So I'm glad to be back, but still missing home. Things are hard still, what with the language and culture barriers and all. It's always getting better though. Like my pastor back home always used to say: for the Christian the best is always yet to come :)

Thanks for keeping up to date and may God bless you in your own missionary journeys!
Mungu wako bariki!
(God bless you!)
 

Random Thoughts From Africa!!

It feels like I’ve experienced a lifetime in just three weeks. Time at the Arusha Base seems only to inch by with not a single moment wasted.

What is lost in time is clearly made up for in other ways. Every minute here is spent in relationship with someone else, if not with another person than with God.  Obviously this concept is not American so for the first two weeks I really struggled with it. First off only some people here speak English and most of them not very well. Secondly I wasn’t at all strong in my relationship with God and so talking to Him didn’t really appear as an option right away.

            Everything is different here, from little things like food and bathrooms to big things like world views and thought processing. Everything is different. The first day we arrived I got sick in class and ran to the bathroom to throw up. I don’t know if you’ve ever used a squattie before but let me just tell you, it made the whole process a lot quicker. A squattie is just a hole in the ground that you do business in. Hard to get used to, but once you do it’s just like anything else. Second nature, really.

            As part of the DTS (Discipleship Training School) we have breakfast every day at seven. If we’re not woken up by the roosters crowing or girl’s chatter then we’re generally woken by the sound of an old bell signaling that it’s time to gather. Breakfast is the same every day: three pieces of bread and some chai. Not bad, really.

            After breakfast we have quiet time to read the Bible and pray for a half an hour to an hour. Then we get together in our class and worship and pray for an hour (on Mondays and Wednesdays the whole base gathers for prayer and worship and a small message). Then we have class from nine-thirty to eleven am. The bell rings then and we have Tea Time for half an hour before getting back into class for another hour and a half before lunch.

            After lunch it’s free time (which is usually never free due to homework and Swahili studies/chilling with the Africans on the base). Then we have work duty from three to five pm.

            I can’t tell you how amazing work duties are!! Their chores are SO different from the states! We are broken into teams everyday (sometimes you’re on your own, depending on the duty) and sometimes we’re set to sweep the outside ground with wooden brooms. I can honestly say I’ve never swept so much dirt before…it’s always seemed like an oxymoron to me. It’s VERY dusty here. Everything is covered in dust. So most of our chores have to do with cleaning grounds or floors. The way they mop is astounding to me too. They literally bend in half to wipe a wet rag over the floor. Their legs won’t be bent at all and they’ll be scrubbing the floor with their hands flat on the floor! I keep thinking of grade school when we all used to brag about just our fingers touching the floor while we were standing…well this blows that out of the water! I have to do it too. It is HARD work! But it gets easier the more I do it.

            Everything is getting easier though. For most of the day we don’t have running water or electricity so everything is done by scratch/by hand. If you miss the running water in the morning then you have to tote buckets of water to and from the bathroom for showers, laundry, everything. We actually wash our laundry by hand. It’s pretty hard on the hands. In order to get our clothes clean we have to scrub and rinse them three times then hang them out to dry. If a wind picks up in this season then chances are they won’t stay clean (because of the dust) and we’ll have to do them all over again. Fun stuff.

            Our showers are NEVER warm. I think people have gotten used to my screaming. “IT’S COLD!!! OH GOD IT’S COLD!!!” I certainly haven’t gotten used to showering in freezing water enough to shut up.

            The people here are quite friendly, though at first I didn’t get that impression. See, Africans laugh about everything. So you can imagine that when we first got there we were pretty hilarious to them. And it’s not an easy thing to try to connect with people who don’t understand you and keep laughing at you. It was almost overwhelming trying to connect with anybody. Not only do we come from entirely different backgrounds but we couldn’t speak to each other. 

            Each week a new teacher comes to speak on a different topic. The first week was Sin and Repentance…I really didn’t like that teacher at all. He was from Uganda and had a strange way of communicating things. I realized later that it was just a different thought process than what I’m used to. Here, they’re taught to memorize things not think about them. That is literally what they’re taught. 

            The next week we had a teacher from South Africa who was very westernized in her way of teaching. She really challenged us to think about what she had to say and to come to conclusions on partly on our own. Her topic to teach on was the Father Heart of God, as well as the Nature and Character of God.

            This week we have a teacher from Kenya who is somewhere in between these two extremes. He gives facts but also does so in a manner that challenges us to think for ourselves. It’s interesting. This week is on Hearing the Voice of God and Prayer, as well as Intercession and Spiritual Warfare.

            Next week we are leaving on an outreach to Masai land and will be away from the base for two weeks. It will be a time of great spiritual growth and challenges.

            I have been learning so much in the time that I’ve been here…I would go into detail but I fear that I won’t have time before the power goes out. In short I’ve learned a lot about God’s character and about the need to listen to His voice. I’ve learned a lot about depending on Him here and how He is a better barrier-breaker than anyone I could ask for…

            There is so much I wish I had the time to say. There have been so many funny, enlightening, and challenging moments in just these three weeks I’ve been here. Like today I got up at five thirty (am) for prayer and got to hear “How Great Thou Art” sung in Swahili. Later on in class we sang “What a Friend We have in Jesus.” The harmonies were so lovely…Robert Eddy would’ve been proud.  And I got to hold children last week in church and watch them laugh, sing and smile.

            For every challenging moment there have been at least two good ones…It makes it all worth it.

            Sadly that’s it for now. I will journal the rest when I can and hope to share it with you at least before I leave! Please know you’re in my prayers, and thank you for keeping me in yours! God bless!!

                                                                        -Kylie

           

            

Yard Sale!!

So here's the scoop! 

We have a Yard Sale coming up that will help support us on our trip! Starting today we have 29 days to come up with $1500 for plane tickets and this is one of our biggest fundraisers!

IF you would like to support us in this endeavor (with finances, stuff for the sale, or just showing up for a good morning of awesome sales) then please contact me!

here is the information for the place:

236 Pennsylvania Ave

Wenatchee Wa

98801