I'm on an airplane going home. I'm 4 hours away from life. I'm an airport away from my team. My head is dizzy, it's 4:45pm in Nairobi, it's 8:45am in Atlanta... my body is functioning somewhere in between. I'm in such a strange place, between ministry and home, between tears and sleep, between the past and the future.
The past few days are a blur of memories. Where one day ends and the next began are hard to tell. Sunday was such a good night for the team. After one last morning at Pastor Timothy's Blue House Church, we said goodbye to all of our friends. The afternoon was full of bartering and prizes at the Yaya craft market, then I got all dolled up for our last night on the town. Instead of $65 per person for a dinner at the world famous Carnivore Restaurant, we opted for the connecting Simba Saloon, ordering meat right off the Carnivore's grill and paying 1/3 the price. The restaurant was beautiful, and so so big. We ate under a canopy of open night sky and candlelight, with a budget to go crazy on appetizers, kilos of meat (including ostrich and crocodile) and the most amazing Tropical Breeze sundae with cinnamon sugar pineapple and coconut ice cream. Before dinner even started, the house DJ enticed us to the dance floor by playing our favorite Toto theme song. Dancing with the girls might have been one of my funnest memories. Just being free and crazy and fun and not caring what any of the spectators at the restaurant thought - I would give so much to do it all again. We know how to work together, but I think what's even more important is we know how to play together. I know these are friendships that will last, even under the burden of being across the country from one another, because we're real. I love these girls when they're silly, when they're stressed out, when they just need someone to listen to them or snuggle with them or share my plate of food. I miss being surrounded by them... and it hasn't even been two hours. I know it's going to hit me when I crawl into my bed and feel how empty it is.
Traveling is something I'm not going to miss for awhile. The matatu rolled out of the apartment complex at 7pm Monday night. Add 8 hours to Amsterdam, 5 hours sleeping on the airport floor and eating chocolate surprise eggs with Craig, then another 9 hours over the Atlantic Ocean, watching far too many movies and not sleeping a wink. Yet, somehow when all of that was added together, it still only accumulated to 2pm Atlanta time - thus making yesterday the longest day of my life... literally. Yesterday lasted for more than 30 hours, and I wanted to really enjoy and appreciate every minute of it. Preparing to say goodbye is not an easy thing for me. Knowing in advance that I'm letting go of the 12 people I've fallen in love and shared my life with is a blow to my heart I'm still not ready for. And I know I'm not letting go - of any of them. It was just so strange being in the airport yesterday being in the United States. Being absolutely surrounded by it. I didn't like it at all, and I can't put m finger on what it was, but I knew that I was not ready to be here. I was not overwhelmed with excitement and luxuries and fast food like some expected. I'm trying to let culture shock come slowly, but I just wish I was happier to be home. Maybe it's because I'm not home, but instead sitting on this airplane that has yet to take off the ground into the sky. I'm still in this place, this in between. My heart is not even hurting for Kenya, but it is not longing for home. God, where are you sending me? I need to surround myself with people who I love - people who love me. Maybe that's what I'm aching for. And God, I'm sitting here, alone on this airplane, in a crack in time before life begins again. It's you that I need. Please be with me, make this a day of joy and thankfulness. And be with my team - my family. They need you today, too. Bind us all together, prepare us for what's to come, and fill their lives with blessings. I'm not with them anymore, but you are. Father, be near us today.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Life in debrief
Today is my last day of communication in Kenya. I have 6 days left in this place I can now call home. And it's bittersweet.
Sunday was the team's last day of ministry in Eburru. After a night of laughter and love, we began to say our goodbyes. Eburru is unlike any place I've ever been; the lifestyle is slow - the people are genuine - the landscape is awe inspiring. Ministering there was not about programs or planning or preparing, it was about relationships. I learned to lay in the grass, and instead of go stirr crazy, just enjoy the fellowship with God and with my teammates. If a stranger walked by, invite them in. If friends from down the road stopped over - feed them, play with them, LOVE them. That was my ministry in Eburru. Above anything else, learning to be content in silences, to be ready for the unexpected, and to put someone else's needs in front of my desires. (These are all things I'm still in the process of perfecting).
This week we are debriefing in Nairobi. We are back at the apartments we lived in together during the first six weeks of this trip, and it has really been a homecoming to celebrate. I have never appreciated furniture, toilets, and refrigerators like I am now. Even the simple taste of coffee does something for the soul after going a month without. I don't know what our itinerary looks like, but I know it will be a week of breaking down. A week of analyzing. A week of processing. A week of growth. A week of letting go. Letting go of the life I know here, of the family I have here, and preparing to go back to what before has always been my reality. I am ready for the next step, and yet scared. Scared that I am standing on the end of this road, still unsure of my next step. Time feels like it is running out, but I have learned so strongly while being in Africa that God's timing usually looks a lot different than my own. So I am here, in Nairobi, once again fully trusting and waiting on Him.
Please pray for my team this week as we're all getting ready to head back into the "real world," scattered throughout the U.S. Pray that God is preparing our hearts and minds for what's to come, and that we truly appreciate the things we've learned and the changes that have taken place in us these past three months.
Also, please pray for my family. I learned this morning, via e-mail, that my grandmother past away last week. Her funeral was yesterday, and I was completely unaware. It has been a breaking morning for me, and especially hard being across the ocean from my family and without much communication. It is hard for me still to know the right words to say or prayers to request, but God knows. Please lift up my family during this time. I need His strength.
Sunday was the team's last day of ministry in Eburru. After a night of laughter and love, we began to say our goodbyes. Eburru is unlike any place I've ever been; the lifestyle is slow - the people are genuine - the landscape is awe inspiring. Ministering there was not about programs or planning or preparing, it was about relationships. I learned to lay in the grass, and instead of go stirr crazy, just enjoy the fellowship with God and with my teammates. If a stranger walked by, invite them in. If friends from down the road stopped over - feed them, play with them, LOVE them. That was my ministry in Eburru. Above anything else, learning to be content in silences, to be ready for the unexpected, and to put someone else's needs in front of my desires. (These are all things I'm still in the process of perfecting).
This week we are debriefing in Nairobi. We are back at the apartments we lived in together during the first six weeks of this trip, and it has really been a homecoming to celebrate. I have never appreciated furniture, toilets, and refrigerators like I am now. Even the simple taste of coffee does something for the soul after going a month without. I don't know what our itinerary looks like, but I know it will be a week of breaking down. A week of analyzing. A week of processing. A week of growth. A week of letting go. Letting go of the life I know here, of the family I have here, and preparing to go back to what before has always been my reality. I am ready for the next step, and yet scared. Scared that I am standing on the end of this road, still unsure of my next step. Time feels like it is running out, but I have learned so strongly while being in Africa that God's timing usually looks a lot different than my own. So I am here, in Nairobi, once again fully trusting and waiting on Him.
Please pray for my team this week as we're all getting ready to head back into the "real world," scattered throughout the U.S. Pray that God is preparing our hearts and minds for what's to come, and that we truly appreciate the things we've learned and the changes that have taken place in us these past three months.
Also, please pray for my family. I learned this morning, via e-mail, that my grandmother past away last week. Her funeral was yesterday, and I was completely unaware. It has been a breaking morning for me, and especially hard being across the ocean from my family and without much communication. It is hard for me still to know the right words to say or prayers to request, but God knows. Please lift up my family during this time. I need His strength.
Monday, November 19, 2007
unforgettable fun
just a listing of really really fun & random things that my team has done since we've been in Eburru. I just can't leave these unsaid...
- Hiking down into a crater on the side of a mountain
- Starting a "hikers for Jesus" club and climbing 4 mountains in one afternoon. That's right, I said 4! I think it was pure adrenaline that got us through it
- Playing Ultimate Frisbee with the high school boys after school with cows grazing on the sidelines
- Caving under a forest Indiana Jones style. The scenery seriously could have come out of a movie, and the 7 of us spent most of the hike writing the movie plot in this horror film, and which of us would actually make it out alive
- Hippo Safari on Lake Nevasha - which led us to an island where we roamed casually on foot with the giraffe, zebras, gazelles, camels, and wildabeast
- Running laps on the road in a skirt. Yes, skirts are required... everywhere
- Spending 4 days unbraiding 300 mini braids out of my hair. I'm back to normal as of Friday - one month without washing my hair is pretty impressive, I think
- singing disney songs in the back of a Mutatu as the bumps send us flying half way out the window
- Buying a bunny for 50 shillings (about $0.80), naming him Pickles, and watching the boys take their one attempt every night to spear him
- Praying with a man for salvation, and in return him promising me 1 slaughtered goat from his flock on my next visit
- watching Pirates of the Caribbean on a projector screen in the dining hut. We brought in all of our matresses and made jiko fresh popcorn to fully experience movie night
- Playing in an intense futbol match between the mzungus (white people) and the school kids in the mud after a rain storm and high enough in the mountains to watch the clouds pass directly overhead
that's all I can think of for the moment. but it's only been two weeks, you can count on more stories to come!
a day in eburru
I wake up every morning to the rooster’s call. My eyes open before the sun passes over the mountains, and at first glance the cement hut is darkness. There is not a trace of light, and I have never experienced a darkness like this before. Yet I feel a safe comfort on the floor with my four roommates snuggles in a row on mattresses next to me. I lay in bed, fading in and out of sleep, until sunlight splinters through the cracked wooden door and I hear a quiet knock on the other side. I roll sideways in my tangled sleeping bag to knock back and start my day, while quietly trying not to wake up the others.
After baby wipes, cold tennis shoes and a trip to the squatty potty, the early risers begin our prayer walk in the crisp morning air. We travel down the drive, past cornfields and hospital construction to the road. Up the steep winding hill and down past the trees and cows and barefoot travelers, we share our hearts, our struggles, and thank God for this place. Every direction is astounding; the vast blue sky goes for as far as I can see, and distant mountains paint the view deeper and deeper shades into the horizon. Lush green forests and pastures cover the hills, and when I stop to look up from the rocky dirt road beneath me, it takes my breath away.
Breakfast in the main hut is full of mandazi and french toast and chai, socks with sandals, and stories of late night conversations and yelling and deep posed questioning in the men’s hut (while asleep of course). The hut is built of mud and sticks and tin, and furnished with plastic chairs and tarps that cover the open window frames. The dirt floor hides our spills, and the chickens come and go for any scraps they can find.
Quiet time comes, an hour and a half for just me and the Lord. Bible studying, journaling, worship music in the soft grass on the side of the hill – it’s my time to grow. To come before him with questions. To search for him, and in return hear his answers. It is the fuel for my day. And I don’t know how I made it through 20 years without this time set aside.
I put on my layers; jeans, skirt, t-shirt, track jacket, socks, tennies – and head out the door. It’s a morning of labor at the hospital. This two-story building, made of concrete with beams sticking out of the sides, with rubbish and rocks and trash sprinkling the landscape, with rooms filled of boards and scraps and filth, is to open for business in a week. I cut grass with a machete until my hands blister and bleed, and then I climb the building to wash the outside windows with paint thinner and dusty sponges. The sun beams a blistering heat, and in the next minute clouds open up and the rain pours down. The morning is exhausting, but the labor is worth all our accomplishments and grateful thanks.
Lunch comes bringing PB&J or noodles with carrot sauce, followed by women’s Bible study at the camp. What’s set at 2:00pm turns into 4:00pm African time, and the afternoon slowly passes with the team, watching the boys practice their spearing techniques or by lying in the front lawn between our huts, relaxing and telling stories with the girls. The women from church finally come by foot, some from miles away, to hear the word, eat Russian tea cakes, and make God’s eyes with all the yarn they can grab. The laughter and fellowship warm my heart, and teach me that some things go so much deeper than a language barrier.
When the boys come back from their ministry in the center, the camp is full and thriving. A futbol game in the driveway sparks, and Daisy comes over with her friends to dance and play games with me on the hill where our laundry is hanging to dry. The day starts to cool down as the sun sets over the mountains, and I give my friends a push home while there is still enough light to see the path. Dinner of cabbage and mash potatoes fill our bellies, followed by the scripture study that fill our spirits. Every night is a new verse, every night a new discussion, every night a new flame sparked inside of me. I’m learning this word, and it’s coming to life like I’ve never seen it before.
Darkness has covered the camp now, and night brings a cold chill that I never expected to feel in Africa. The small jiko fire, powered by smoke and burning charcoal, warms our toes as I sit with the lingering few in a tight circle for warmth. The generator cuts in and out, making electricity a gamble and headlights a prized possession. We tell stories and roast corn and play cribbage, and if it’s a special night, Craig will bring out the popcorn kernels and amaze James as he stands wide-eyed over the fire to watch the kernels pop. He has never seen such a thing, and makes me promise to teach his wife this magic trick.
Time lingers on at night, sometimes leaving nothing to do but stare at the wide night sky and watch the stars twinkle. I’ve always heard that stars twinkle, but never have I seen it until now. Not like this. Hank (our night guard) tells me stories, beginning every statement with, “Who me?” and leaving the group only to sneak up on us in the shaded doorways. His old rigid exterior melts away with his wide gaping smile, and pouring time into him is becoming one of my favorite ministries here.
One last stop to the dark tin box with a whole in the ground, known as our bathrooms, then I open the creaking door to the hut and crawl into my sleeping bag. The night is cold now, and the world seems still, but my mind is still turning. I let myself question and ponder all the thoughts of the day, until sleep finally steals me away. Life here is slow, it’s quiet, it’s unpredictable. It’s different than I’ve ever lived before. And it will be very hard to say goodbye to.
After baby wipes, cold tennis shoes and a trip to the squatty potty, the early risers begin our prayer walk in the crisp morning air. We travel down the drive, past cornfields and hospital construction to the road. Up the steep winding hill and down past the trees and cows and barefoot travelers, we share our hearts, our struggles, and thank God for this place. Every direction is astounding; the vast blue sky goes for as far as I can see, and distant mountains paint the view deeper and deeper shades into the horizon. Lush green forests and pastures cover the hills, and when I stop to look up from the rocky dirt road beneath me, it takes my breath away.
Breakfast in the main hut is full of mandazi and french toast and chai, socks with sandals, and stories of late night conversations and yelling and deep posed questioning in the men’s hut (while asleep of course). The hut is built of mud and sticks and tin, and furnished with plastic chairs and tarps that cover the open window frames. The dirt floor hides our spills, and the chickens come and go for any scraps they can find.
Quiet time comes, an hour and a half for just me and the Lord. Bible studying, journaling, worship music in the soft grass on the side of the hill – it’s my time to grow. To come before him with questions. To search for him, and in return hear his answers. It is the fuel for my day. And I don’t know how I made it through 20 years without this time set aside.
I put on my layers; jeans, skirt, t-shirt, track jacket, socks, tennies – and head out the door. It’s a morning of labor at the hospital. This two-story building, made of concrete with beams sticking out of the sides, with rubbish and rocks and trash sprinkling the landscape, with rooms filled of boards and scraps and filth, is to open for business in a week. I cut grass with a machete until my hands blister and bleed, and then I climb the building to wash the outside windows with paint thinner and dusty sponges. The sun beams a blistering heat, and in the next minute clouds open up and the rain pours down. The morning is exhausting, but the labor is worth all our accomplishments and grateful thanks.
Lunch comes bringing PB&J or noodles with carrot sauce, followed by women’s Bible study at the camp. What’s set at 2:00pm turns into 4:00pm African time, and the afternoon slowly passes with the team, watching the boys practice their spearing techniques or by lying in the front lawn between our huts, relaxing and telling stories with the girls. The women from church finally come by foot, some from miles away, to hear the word, eat Russian tea cakes, and make God’s eyes with all the yarn they can grab. The laughter and fellowship warm my heart, and teach me that some things go so much deeper than a language barrier.
When the boys come back from their ministry in the center, the camp is full and thriving. A futbol game in the driveway sparks, and Daisy comes over with her friends to dance and play games with me on the hill where our laundry is hanging to dry. The day starts to cool down as the sun sets over the mountains, and I give my friends a push home while there is still enough light to see the path. Dinner of cabbage and mash potatoes fill our bellies, followed by the scripture study that fill our spirits. Every night is a new verse, every night a new discussion, every night a new flame sparked inside of me. I’m learning this word, and it’s coming to life like I’ve never seen it before.
Darkness has covered the camp now, and night brings a cold chill that I never expected to feel in Africa. The small jiko fire, powered by smoke and burning charcoal, warms our toes as I sit with the lingering few in a tight circle for warmth. The generator cuts in and out, making electricity a gamble and headlights a prized possession. We tell stories and roast corn and play cribbage, and if it’s a special night, Craig will bring out the popcorn kernels and amaze James as he stands wide-eyed over the fire to watch the kernels pop. He has never seen such a thing, and makes me promise to teach his wife this magic trick.
Time lingers on at night, sometimes leaving nothing to do but stare at the wide night sky and watch the stars twinkle. I’ve always heard that stars twinkle, but never have I seen it until now. Not like this. Hank (our night guard) tells me stories, beginning every statement with, “Who me?” and leaving the group only to sneak up on us in the shaded doorways. His old rigid exterior melts away with his wide gaping smile, and pouring time into him is becoming one of my favorite ministries here.
One last stop to the dark tin box with a whole in the ground, known as our bathrooms, then I open the creaking door to the hut and crawl into my sleeping bag. The night is cold now, and the world seems still, but my mind is still turning. I let myself question and ponder all the thoughts of the day, until sleep finally steals me away. Life here is slow, it’s quiet, it’s unpredictable. It’s different than I’ve ever lived before. And it will be very hard to say goodbye to.
Friday, November 2, 2007
hard endings and new beginnings
A month without communication home is just too large a gap to fill in current events, but I can justify my lack of correspondence. Last Monday (Oct 22) I spent 9 hours in a chair at a hair salon getting the full African makeover. Granted, she told me it would take 4 hours - I love it, here's a preview for you:
(this is me with my friend Albert. He has a beautiful smile when he shows it)
Yesterday was the last day of ministry in Kibera. I taught my 6th graders English for the last time, and after handing out 45 friendship bracelets I knotted by hand, we preceeded to an amazing afternoon of orange relays and Red Rover. It was our last Kibera street meeting, and all of our friends were there. We prayed for God to stop the rain, and He did (the second time He performed this miracle for our street meetings). We drimed, we prayed, and then the sky opened and we said our goodbyes in the pouring rain. It was a night I'll never forget, and I'm so thankful for every friendship I've made here. Deep, real friendships with the purest of hearts.
mountain. I don't know what to expect, but I pray that God is already preparing the hearts of those we will be discipling. It is hard to leave Kibera. Our time here just doesn't seem enough. Here are some pictures of my frTomorrow the team packs up for Eburru, a completely different ministryon the side of aiends, please pray for them.
My 6th grade boys
My Bible College Students
My dear friend Gerard
The girls on my team
(this is me with my friend Albert. He has a beautiful smile when he shows it)
Yesterday was the last day of ministry in Kibera. I taught my 6th graders English for the last time, and after handing out 45 friendship bracelets I knotted by hand, we preceeded to an amazing afternoon of orange relays and Red Rover. It was our last Kibera street meeting, and all of our friends were there. We prayed for God to stop the rain, and He did (the second time He performed this miracle for our street meetings). We drimed, we prayed, and then the sky opened and we said our goodbyes in the pouring rain. It was a night I'll never forget, and I'm so thankful for every friendship I've made here. Deep, real friendships with the purest of hearts.
mountain. I don't know what to expect, but I pray that God is already preparing the hearts of those we will be discipling. It is hard to leave Kibera. Our time here just doesn't seem enough. Here are some pictures of my frTomorrow the team packs up for Eburru, a completely different ministryon the side of aiends, please pray for them.
My 6th grade boys
My Bible College Students
My dear friend Gerard
The girls on my team
October 28th - journal entry
Today is our last Sunday in Kibera. Our time here is coming to a close, and that’s starting to feel really real. Friday night at Bible college we brought up that for the first time, and my heart melted as the students shared how much they truly appreciate me and Craig. We took pictures, Mildred gave us bananas, and I didn’t want to leave. Thank you, Lord, for making it possible to teach on Monday since we cannot go on Friday. Any time I have to spend with and pour into these incredible, God seeking people is a blessing.
There were so many friends at our street meeting yesterday: Phyllis, Ester, Steve, Oscar,
God, you have blessed our time here. You are working through us to save the lost, encourage the believers, love the children, and even bring Muslims to the truth. Sometimes I’m just in awe at your hand working in all these different ministries.
This is our last Sunday in Kibera. My last Sunday at Pastor Timothy’s crazy, spirit filled
October 21st - journal entry
As I watch another African sunset from our luxurious balcony, listening to the worship music inside and the evening birds singing, I reflect on the day. A great day.
Today was another day of firsts. It was the first time I’ve preached a sermon at a church, not to mention a church in the Kibera slum overflowing with believers coming to hear the word. Oh Lord, what a rush. I was so nervous, but I knew that this was my time. Last week I could not find the words you were wanting me to say, and this morning they were heavy on my heart. I taught on what I knew best – the book of Job. Father I know you were speaking though me today, because I know hearts were touched. My hands were shaking and my skirt got tripped n the microphone chord, but my words were solid, and I spoke your truth. When Pastor Timothy came and hugged me during the service, I knew I had done well. You were moving in me, through me. God it was so powerful. Thank you for using me as an instrument.
This night is so beautiful. The air is warm and the breeze is soft. The flowers are bright and coloring the landscape with yellow and pink. Last night I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be in community, I didn’t want to be in
October 15th - journal entry
There are so many trees surrounding me. Just looking around makes me forget where I am. I could be anywhere. I’m lying under a towering tree that reaches high and twists to the ground. There are piney mountain trees ahead, and the largest palm tree to my left, standing solo in front of a Dr. Seuss-like forest. I can’t name all of the types or shapes or sizes, but I know the beauty of this place. I can imagine the Garden of Eden looked something like this, a place where every animal and plant and creation came together – before they were scattered to the ends of the earth. Maybe this is where it all started. Maybe it was here, under the soft heat of the sun, enveloped in the magnificence of nature, that Eve saw Adam for the first time. When life was perfect. When the world was free from darkness and sin. When God walked alongside his beloved creations. It would happen here. God, I hope you can see the longing in my heart to have that again.
Ok, after a 20 minute conversation about the future with Craig, it’s time to write. I need to process some things.
Sunday I volunteered to give the sermon. Don’t ask me why. All I knew was the story of Job – I’ve got that down. So from Friday night to Sunday morning I am pretty much out of self. Nervousness and insecurities arose, and I was not hearing God tell me what to preach. Sunday came, and I spent the morning pacing, primping, and reciting the story of Job. I walked to church practically in silence, and Frank did a good job trying to encourage and uplift me. So many prayers were said – from me, from Becca, from Craig. I could feel the spirit cover me so much yesterday, but I could still not find the words to say. Then worship came, and something unexpected happened. I could not think about the sermon. All I could think about was coming back to
On a lighter note, I went to my very first concert in
Monday, October 8, 2007
hear their hearts
I was born 1994 in Kenya. We live in Kenya with all parents and all my sisiters and brother. after four years both my parents died and now we live with our Aunt here in Kibera. but my Aunt is also a jobless person but with God everything is possible, now in our family we are saved we both know God. We don't worry about the death of our parents cause we know God is always with us. The problem I have is that I don't have somebody to pay for my nineth grade fee next year but God knows. (Proverbs 3:6) "Remember the Lord in everything your doing and he will show you the right way." - Mercy
My name is Teresiah but people call me Kales am 14 yrs old. I live in Kibera Laini Saba When I grow up I would like to go to America and study their as a doctor and find the cure of Aids. I like singing and reciting poems. God willing I might be a gospel musician because I know God has called me to Serve him. I like going to Church every Sunday and am in teenagers class. I have two verses that I like Psalms 139:14 I am fearfuly and wonderfuly made. I like this one also but I don't remember the verse. It says God bless you with his love that makes every day a Joy to live. And cause with God all things are possible. I like also to meroze verses in the bible and I also come the first in memorizing many. bye. - Teresiah
I was born in upcountry but I grow up in Kibera line saba. I have two sisters and one brother I love the very much. But life was very difficult because my parent lack money even for food and to join school. My mother then open a small market but was a low price and so cheap. I was so lack that my mother was eble to manage to jion school. Now I am in class eight and we are so happy we are born again and one day we hope that God will open the way now I am fourteen year old and I thank God for my breath and keeping me alife. - Godfrey
My name is Ether. I am in the 8th grade. I am 13 years old. In my life I would like to be an air hostess thus serving people in the airport. My favourite colour is pink. It is a beautiful color and bright. I like eating pizza and playing netball. I am saved by the blood of Jesus Christ. I alway saw that 'SERVING GOD IS MY PLEASURE'. My ambitions and wish is to make sure in our country there is peace. My hobby during leisure is reading and interpreting the Bible, visiting people with special needs and singing. I like seing peace in Kenya. My beloved verse frm the scriplture is John 14:27 - Peace I reciece with you, my peace I give to you; Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afriad. AMEN - Esther
These are my students. The Lord is doing big things here.
( http://www.adventures.org/a/reports/r3re.asp?id=1805 - detailed trip reports updated here, http://jasonharms.blogspot.com/ for pictures)
I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have pwer, together with all the Lord's people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge - that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. - Ephesians 3:16-19
My name is Teresiah but people call me Kales am 14 yrs old. I live in Kibera Laini Saba When I grow up I would like to go to America and study their as a doctor and find the cure of Aids. I like singing and reciting poems. God willing I might be a gospel musician because I know God has called me to Serve him. I like going to Church every Sunday and am in teenagers class. I have two verses that I like Psalms 139:14 I am fearfuly and wonderfuly made. I like this one also but I don't remember the verse. It says God bless you with his love that makes every day a Joy to live. And cause with God all things are possible. I like also to meroze verses in the bible and I also come the first in memorizing many. bye. - Teresiah
I was born in upcountry but I grow up in Kibera line saba. I have two sisters and one brother I love the very much. But life was very difficult because my parent lack money even for food and to join school. My mother then open a small market but was a low price and so cheap. I was so lack that my mother was eble to manage to jion school. Now I am in class eight and we are so happy we are born again and one day we hope that God will open the way now I am fourteen year old and I thank God for my breath and keeping me alife. - Godfrey
My name is Ether. I am in the 8th grade. I am 13 years old. In my life I would like to be an air hostess thus serving people in the airport. My favourite colour is pink. It is a beautiful color and bright. I like eating pizza and playing netball. I am saved by the blood of Jesus Christ. I alway saw that 'SERVING GOD IS MY PLEASURE'. My ambitions and wish is to make sure in our country there is peace. My hobby during leisure is reading and interpreting the Bible, visiting people with special needs and singing. I like seing peace in Kenya. My beloved verse frm the scriplture is John 14:27 - Peace I reciece with you, my peace I give to you; Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afriad. AMEN - Esther
These are my students. The Lord is doing big things here.
( http://www.adventures.org/a/reports/r3re.asp?id=1805 - detailed trip reports updated here, http://jasonharms.blogspot.com/ for pictures)
I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have pwer, together with all the Lord's people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge - that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. - Ephesians 3:16-19
Monday, September 24, 2007
t.i.a
How do I sum up the last 12 days of my life? I don't know if that's possible, but here's a good start:
ice cold hose showers. early morning worship. post-it birthday parties. h20 to go jr. sweaty and bruising drime practices on rocky hills. 16 hour plane rides. peanut butter sandwiches. monkeys in a barrel. grief journals. team building on the mattresses. breakfast pizza in amsterdam. overflowing porta-potties. fresh pineapple. calloused fingers from learning the guitar. concert praying. "how are YOU" from every direction. mutatu adventures. singing in the streets. cuddling with church babies. chacos. community living. swahili lessons from kibera pedestrians. african sunsets on the patio. cherished crystal light packets. breaking vulnerability. futbol in open lots. hand sanitizer and baby wipes. girltalk. laundry mat ministries. sewage streets. midnight heart-to-hearts. worms in the water. plywood bunk beds 3 stories high. encouragement mailboxes. dancing in the rain. life altering speakers and sessions. burning trash piles. big brown eyes. tear your heart out bootcamp. life in a duffel bag. missionary reality show.
This is my life. This is Africa. It's amazing. But I'll take a step back, just to fill you in on the details.
I arrived in Atlanta, GA on the the 12th, and was immediately thrown into a brand new lifestyle. I met my team, and almost instantly we've become a family. There are 13 of them, from all parts of the country, all very different story, and they're amazing. Training camp in Georgia was intense, to say the least. Every day was packed, from worship at prayer at 7am, speakers, sessions, team builders, drime practices (dramas to music), group discussions, you name it! Every night I went to bed absolutely exhausted, and excited to see what was in store for the next day. Training was a week of personal development, of ripping out the pieces inside of me that I had tucked away before grieving them, of letting go of personal rights and expectations to embrace community goals. It was fervent prayer that I have never experienced before, and worship that brought me to tears almost every night. I have grown more in this past week than I think most people allow themselves to in years. Going through it doesn't feel good, it isn't fun, but it's necessary. I know I could come home now a different person, but that was just the start of this journey.
After two 8 hour plane rides, a 3 hour layover in Amsterdam, and an 8 hour time change, we made it to Nairobi on Thursday night. Our apartments are incredible, so much more luxurious than we could have expected. Yes, there are still bed bugs and we've yet to bathe in hot water, but this new home is such a blessing! I'm living with 8 other girls, sharing everything - shampoo, toothpaste, clothes, cherished snacks and water flavoring, everything that we have. & I love it. Our nights end in prayer and card games, and my family would be proud that cribbage and spades have become a few of the team favorites.
Kibera is the slum that we are doing ministry in. AIM has an orphanage there, and we are partnered with a church community in the slum that we will be doing outreaches with. Details and pictures soon to come. I want you all to know that I'm safe and that God has big plans here. We are stepping in to be a piece of this revolution in the slums, and to make disciples that make impacts long after we're gone. This is probably the most detailed blog you'll get. I want to share with you everything that's been on my heart, but my time at the internet cafe is just about up. I'll be back with updates in two weeks. Until then, know that I am pouring love into orphans and families, and that I am being filled by my Lord and my team. God is good.
The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the lord has anointed me to proclaim the good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor and the day of vengence of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion - to bestow on them crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called mighty oaks, planting of the Lord for display of his splendor.
- Isaiah 61:1-3
ice cold hose showers. early morning worship. post-it birthday parties. h20 to go jr. sweaty and bruising drime practices on rocky hills. 16 hour plane rides. peanut butter sandwiches. monkeys in a barrel. grief journals. team building on the mattresses. breakfast pizza in amsterdam. overflowing porta-potties. fresh pineapple. calloused fingers from learning the guitar. concert praying. "how are YOU" from every direction. mutatu adventures. singing in the streets. cuddling with church babies. chacos. community living. swahili lessons from kibera pedestrians. african sunsets on the patio. cherished crystal light packets. breaking vulnerability. futbol in open lots. hand sanitizer and baby wipes. girltalk. laundry mat ministries. sewage streets. midnight heart-to-hearts. worms in the water. plywood bunk beds 3 stories high. encouragement mailboxes. dancing in the rain. life altering speakers and sessions. burning trash piles. big brown eyes. tear your heart out bootcamp. life in a duffel bag. missionary reality show.
This is my life. This is Africa. It's amazing. But I'll take a step back, just to fill you in on the details.
I arrived in Atlanta, GA on the the 12th, and was immediately thrown into a brand new lifestyle. I met my team, and almost instantly we've become a family. There are 13 of them, from all parts of the country, all very different story, and they're amazing. Training camp in Georgia was intense, to say the least. Every day was packed, from worship at prayer at 7am, speakers, sessions, team builders, drime practices (dramas to music), group discussions, you name it! Every night I went to bed absolutely exhausted, and excited to see what was in store for the next day. Training was a week of personal development, of ripping out the pieces inside of me that I had tucked away before grieving them, of letting go of personal rights and expectations to embrace community goals. It was fervent prayer that I have never experienced before, and worship that brought me to tears almost every night. I have grown more in this past week than I think most people allow themselves to in years. Going through it doesn't feel good, it isn't fun, but it's necessary. I know I could come home now a different person, but that was just the start of this journey.
After two 8 hour plane rides, a 3 hour layover in Amsterdam, and an 8 hour time change, we made it to Nairobi on Thursday night. Our apartments are incredible, so much more luxurious than we could have expected. Yes, there are still bed bugs and we've yet to bathe in hot water, but this new home is such a blessing! I'm living with 8 other girls, sharing everything - shampoo, toothpaste, clothes, cherished snacks and water flavoring, everything that we have. & I love it. Our nights end in prayer and card games, and my family would be proud that cribbage and spades have become a few of the team favorites.
Kibera is the slum that we are doing ministry in. AIM has an orphanage there, and we are partnered with a church community in the slum that we will be doing outreaches with. Details and pictures soon to come. I want you all to know that I'm safe and that God has big plans here. We are stepping in to be a piece of this revolution in the slums, and to make disciples that make impacts long after we're gone. This is probably the most detailed blog you'll get. I want to share with you everything that's been on my heart, but my time at the internet cafe is just about up. I'll be back with updates in two weeks. Until then, know that I am pouring love into orphans and families, and that I am being filled by my Lord and my team. God is good.
The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the lord has anointed me to proclaim the good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor and the day of vengence of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion - to bestow on them crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called mighty oaks, planting of the Lord for display of his splendor.
- Isaiah 61:1-3
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
leavin' on a jet plane
I think it's finally hit me. As I sit here, sipping the last of my $4 mocha, sprawled out in an over sized brown leather chair, I'm realizing that my life is never going to be the same. I am never going to be the same. This experience, this family of believers, this foreign country are going to change my life. Forever. And I leave in 6 hours.
I am so thankful for my life. I have been blessed more than I could as for, if no other way, through the relationships I have come to love and cherish. The last few weeks preparing to leave the country have been, well, hectic. There has been so much shopping and packing and preparing that I did not schedule much time for. Some nights I have felt extremely unprepared - that I haven't read enough, studied my Bible enough, prayed enough for this huge venture. But then a friend comes to town, or a family member spends the weekend with me, or my sister has a baby (!), and I see the heart of God so much more than I ever would "preparing" on my own. I feel love through relationships, and I could not have been any more filled up than I have been these past few weeks.
I'm learning how to be real. To be raw and unsheltered. Not flawless, just transparent. This is the first time I've exposed my thoughts and my heart to an audience of unknown. To anyone. To the world. I don't know how to adjust or adapt or react to my surroundings, so it's just me, alone with my computer, trying to process what the next three months of my life are going to be like. All I can do is smile. This summer has been so good, and I know it's just the beginning. There will be struggles, and I am going to be faced with more poverty and heartache and destruction than I've ever encountered in my 20 years of comfortable American living. But I am going to experience love on a level most people will never know. I'm going to live the way I was created to live, leaving the high heels and the make-up and the jewelry behind, stripping down to the core, to the real. I want to learn how to live real, if nothing else that is my prayer. I don't want to put on a mask for work, an image for my family and a costume for my friends. The woman that these people meet in Africa, that is going to be the real me. The broken, bruised, and God-loving little girl that is living to share Christ's love and grace.
My flight to Georgia leaves in 6 hours. I have to be at the airport in 5. Leave my house in 4. Wake up in... 3? Wow, there really is no turning back now. Africa here I come!
All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go. I hate to wake you up to say goodbye...
How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can anyone preach unless they are sent? How beautiful are the feet of those who bring the good news!
- Romans 10:14-15
I am so thankful for my life. I have been blessed more than I could as for, if no other way, through the relationships I have come to love and cherish. The last few weeks preparing to leave the country have been, well, hectic. There has been so much shopping and packing and preparing that I did not schedule much time for. Some nights I have felt extremely unprepared - that I haven't read enough, studied my Bible enough, prayed enough for this huge venture. But then a friend comes to town, or a family member spends the weekend with me, or my sister has a baby (!), and I see the heart of God so much more than I ever would "preparing" on my own. I feel love through relationships, and I could not have been any more filled up than I have been these past few weeks.
I'm learning how to be real. To be raw and unsheltered. Not flawless, just transparent. This is the first time I've exposed my thoughts and my heart to an audience of unknown. To anyone. To the world. I don't know how to adjust or adapt or react to my surroundings, so it's just me, alone with my computer, trying to process what the next three months of my life are going to be like. All I can do is smile. This summer has been so good, and I know it's just the beginning. There will be struggles, and I am going to be faced with more poverty and heartache and destruction than I've ever encountered in my 20 years of comfortable American living. But I am going to experience love on a level most people will never know. I'm going to live the way I was created to live, leaving the high heels and the make-up and the jewelry behind, stripping down to the core, to the real. I want to learn how to live real, if nothing else that is my prayer. I don't want to put on a mask for work, an image for my family and a costume for my friends. The woman that these people meet in Africa, that is going to be the real me. The broken, bruised, and God-loving little girl that is living to share Christ's love and grace.
My flight to Georgia leaves in 6 hours. I have to be at the airport in 5. Leave my house in 4. Wake up in... 3? Wow, there really is no turning back now. Africa here I come!
All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go. I hate to wake you up to say goodbye...
How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can anyone preach unless they are sent? How beautiful are the feet of those who bring the good news!
- Romans 10:14-15
Thursday, August 9, 2007
the best day
This has been the best day. Truly. I just want to go climb a mountain (maybe somewhere outside of Nebraska) and shout it to everyone. I am so restless at work, and I think everyone is wondering why this huge smile is plastered to my face. I can't help it. God is so good. I hope He's really shining through me today. And the fact that it's 95 degrees + humidity outside should add to my radiating glisten.
I don't want to say that I was stressed, but if there is some mega-spiritual, cool and collected way to say it... well, that wasn't really me either. I have been learning trust and patience on a whole new level. In any logical mind, when trying to raise $5,000 in 3 months, one would work hard, save money, spend sparingly and ask for as many donations as possible. But I have learned that God might just have a better plan than mine. He's a pretty smart guy. Instead of working and saving, I have quit my (part-time) job and spent my time volunteering. While volunteering sounds grand and selfless, that whole $5,000 goal was not getting any closer to grasp. Weeks were passing, and my 3-digit funds account was not looking too promising.
Oh, but God is so faithful! My amazing friends, when starting to catch on to my almost panic response to fundraising, have done some extreme praying on my behalf. If I take nothing else away from this experience, I will be full knowing with affirmation how powerful prayer truly is, and that it's not something to be taken lightly! They prayed, I prayed. They prayed some more. And I waited. Waited to see my next move from the big guy upstairs.
I got two things. 1) Trust me. hmmm ok, check 2) Sell your car. WHAT? When, now? To who? What about when I come home, God? What's going to happen then? I realized quickly that I couldn't really check off the first instruction I was given until I truly let go. And wouldn't ya know it, I got the when, the who, and the what next... well, He'll probably let me in on that plan later.
Now back to where this story began, the best day ever. The best day ever is the day you see from the overcomer's perspective. The best day ever is the day you realize and even appreciate why you went through what you did, and really receive the reward for your trust and faithfulness. That 3-digit funds account, well it's overflowing. How does one go from $730 to $2,280 overnight? Why on that very same morning do I receive a call, crediting my bank account another $2,000 for a personal stock investment? It is rising to the top, by means that I could never have figured or constructed on my own. It's making sense. When I let go, and let God (as cliche as it sounds) these amazing days happen. I'm starting to think that a life of purpose and direction and just all out love for Jesus is full of these "best day ever's" Yea, there's struggles and tests and not every moment is destined to take your breath away, but wow. When God moves, how can you go on pretending like you didn't feel it? I'm seriously going to start looking for a mountain to start shouting from when I get home!
and maybe, just maybe, I'll even have a savings account to come back to so that I can pack up and start my cross-country adventure! (that blog will have to wait for another day)
"Let the wilderness and its cities lift up their voices... Let them shout for joy from the tops of the mountains" - Isaiah 42:11
I don't want to say that I was stressed, but if there is some mega-spiritual, cool and collected way to say it... well, that wasn't really me either. I have been learning trust and patience on a whole new level. In any logical mind, when trying to raise $5,000 in 3 months, one would work hard, save money, spend sparingly and ask for as many donations as possible. But I have learned that God might just have a better plan than mine. He's a pretty smart guy. Instead of working and saving, I have quit my (part-time) job and spent my time volunteering. While volunteering sounds grand and selfless, that whole $5,000 goal was not getting any closer to grasp. Weeks were passing, and my 3-digit funds account was not looking too promising.
Oh, but God is so faithful! My amazing friends, when starting to catch on to my almost panic response to fundraising, have done some extreme praying on my behalf. If I take nothing else away from this experience, I will be full knowing with affirmation how powerful prayer truly is, and that it's not something to be taken lightly! They prayed, I prayed. They prayed some more. And I waited. Waited to see my next move from the big guy upstairs.
I got two things. 1) Trust me. hmmm ok, check 2) Sell your car. WHAT? When, now? To who? What about when I come home, God? What's going to happen then? I realized quickly that I couldn't really check off the first instruction I was given until I truly let go. And wouldn't ya know it, I got the when, the who, and the what next... well, He'll probably let me in on that plan later.
Now back to where this story began, the best day ever. The best day ever is the day you see from the overcomer's perspective. The best day ever is the day you realize and even appreciate why you went through what you did, and really receive the reward for your trust and faithfulness. That 3-digit funds account, well it's overflowing. How does one go from $730 to $2,280 overnight? Why on that very same morning do I receive a call, crediting my bank account another $2,000 for a personal stock investment? It is rising to the top, by means that I could never have figured or constructed on my own. It's making sense. When I let go, and let God (as cliche as it sounds) these amazing days happen. I'm starting to think that a life of purpose and direction and just all out love for Jesus is full of these "best day ever's" Yea, there's struggles and tests and not every moment is destined to take your breath away, but wow. When God moves, how can you go on pretending like you didn't feel it? I'm seriously going to start looking for a mountain to start shouting from when I get home!
and maybe, just maybe, I'll even have a savings account to come back to so that I can pack up and start my cross-country adventure! (that blog will have to wait for another day)
"Let the wilderness and its cities lift up their voices... Let them shout for joy from the tops of the mountains" - Isaiah 42:11
Thursday, July 26, 2007
the first of many
This is the first blog I have ever posted. It seems like firsts are becoming a common theme as the year goes on. This is the first time I've eaten peanut butter in my ice cream. It's the first time I have gotten four shots in one day, and the first time I successfully completed a 13.1 mile run. It's the first time I have been a camp counselor, and the first time I have taped my feet to protect and prevent blisters. This is the first time I've fallen in love, and the first time I have done nothing about it but wait for God's timing. This is the first time I will be without a job, without attachments and without a 5-year plan. It is the first time I will be living in another country. Not just visiting, not a short week or two week stay, but living and learning and ministering for months in a country I have only dreamed about. It's a year of firsts, and I could not be more excited about it.
What scares me more, I think, than all of the new and mysterious and unexpected, is a life of certainty. A path that is predictable. A routine that is habit. A life that is not open to be stretched and shaken and called to something more. God is calling me to something more, I can feel it in every crevice of my body. I have been so blessed this summer and I am bursting at the seams with an overflowing joy. A joy that surpasses all understanding, this unexplainable high that I feel only when I let go of everything I've ever known and just follow Him. Anywhere.
I'm on a journey right now. It's me and God. Some of the most incredible people I have ever met have been brought into my life, and my heart is so full just thinking about them. But they are on their own journey, too, separate from mine. Thank goodness our paths have crossed and intertwined together, but only the Lord knows what tomorrow brings and where it will take us. If you are one who is traveling down a different path, stay tuned. I will take you with me on this untamed adventure.
(once I get this blogging thing down :)
Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy.
- 1 Peter 1:8
What scares me more, I think, than all of the new and mysterious and unexpected, is a life of certainty. A path that is predictable. A routine that is habit. A life that is not open to be stretched and shaken and called to something more. God is calling me to something more, I can feel it in every crevice of my body. I have been so blessed this summer and I am bursting at the seams with an overflowing joy. A joy that surpasses all understanding, this unexplainable high that I feel only when I let go of everything I've ever known and just follow Him. Anywhere.
I'm on a journey right now. It's me and God. Some of the most incredible people I have ever met have been brought into my life, and my heart is so full just thinking about them. But they are on their own journey, too, separate from mine. Thank goodness our paths have crossed and intertwined together, but only the Lord knows what tomorrow brings and where it will take us. If you are one who is traveling down a different path, stay tuned. I will take you with me on this untamed adventure.
(once I get this blogging thing down :)
Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy.
- 1 Peter 1:8
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
