Plans Change

I think some people may be confused or have questions as to why I am leaving Kenya so much earlier than planned. This is the story…

When I got here, it was great to be back, because Kenya has given me some sense of home over the past few years. And as soon as I got back, I jumped into all the work that the house needed. The house Betsy and I moved into needed a lot of work. It was time consuming, but fun to paint everything, get the house set up, and even dig up our huge shamba in the back yard. I stayed busy with these things because I didn’t know what else to do. Other than being with the Juma family a few times a week, which really wasn’t all that time consuming, I literally didn’t know what to do. So after a couple months, when the house was set up and the shamba was looking better, that’s when I decided to work on writing the children’s Bible course that I’ve had in mind to do over the past few years. That kept me busy and helped me have a focus, and thankfully, I really enjoy the work. When I said in my past posts that I’m content in the work here, I did really mean that. I am loving editing Paul’s notes and re-writing his notes for children. But that has nothing to do with living in Kenya. I can write anywhere that I have a power source for my laptop.

When I started to really focus on writing, I kept thinking, ‘I came all the way to Kenya to write?’ I thought I’d be doing a little more than that. Of course being with the Juma family does require me to be in Kenya, since that is where they live, but writing is what I was really focusing on consistently. And others even asked me why I needed to be in Kenya to write. I’d always say that living here in this culture would help me write more appropriately for this culture. Which was true. Kind of. Except that I send all of my notes to my Swahili teacher anyway, and he lets me know if it’s understandable, or if I need to change something for this culture. It was just an answer that I threw out, because I didn’t know what else to say.

And then, not even three months into my stay, I started having a really hard time with the thought of saying bye to the many people who come through here. There are a lot of missions teams that travel through this area, so you meet lots of people and become friends with them, just to say bye to them over, and over, and over again. Which made me feel more and more alone. I started questioning how long I could handle that.

Then I started to feel guilty. I’d think that I came here for the Juma family, so it didn’t matter how I felt. Sometimes you have to be alone, and you have to deal with it. I thought I was being a wimp, and very selfish, so I didn’t mention to anyone how hard things were getting. Lots of people have done much harder things than this, and I know that.

Now, let me say, I do love the Juma family. I know I’m not ‘alone’ when I’m with them. But when you are the only one to walk into someone else’s family, culture, and whole little world, you do feel incredibly alone, regardless of how wonderful they are. After six months, I can still have only short conversations with most of their children, because I speak very little Swahili and they speak very little English. I know these things take time, and that’s okay. But I ignored all the thoughts and doubts I was having about how long I could live here, because at least I did have a good friend that I lived with. So, no matter how awkward, uncomfortable, or annoying the day was, I could come home and talk about things with a friend…and we definitely talked all the time about how strange Kenya is to us. Beautiful at times, but always, always strange to us.

I did pretty well ignoring things for a couple months, thinking that everything would pass and I’d be fine again. Then Betsy left a little earlier than planned, and also decided not to come back (which I support and thought was a wise decision of hers). When she left, I stopped being able to ignore things.

I talked with my parents and with Paul, and they all encouraged me to be honest with God; to tell Him how I really felt, and even tell Him I didn’t know how long I could handle this. Even more honestly, I told Him I didn’t have a desire to handle this anymore.

I had come here thinking I was going to live here for a really long time. I did not take into account what it would be like to kind of live alone in a new culture, and a culture where men are just mostly horrible all of the time. I did not take into account that Christ sent His disciples out two by two. That two are stronger than one. That Paul (Bible Paul) seemed to always travel with a companion, or even a group of people on his missionary trips. I thought I’d be fine alone. It took not even three months for me to see that is not the case. I just didn’t tell anyone right away. I really thought it would get easier, not harder.

So I spent two weeks crying (it doesn't take much to make me cry, no worries) and praying. It took a lot for me to admit I didn’t want to be in this situation anymore. And I didn’t know what God was going to do, but I just kept praying. My mom suggested going home in June for a visit. The lease on my house in Kenya was supposed to be up in June, and I had a friend to stay with at home in June. Then the thought of staying here all the way till June started to horrify me, so I told God that I would go home whenever He told me to. Like I said in the email I sent out, I woke up one morning praying that God would actually tell me. I literally prayed that prayer for hours. I was sitting in the lab in town waiting for my malaria results for an hour with that prayer going through my mind like a song that you put on repeat. I came back home and I was still praying (and thinking at the same time ‘how is God going to tell me when to go home?’). Then my phone rang in the early afternoon with the guy who leases my house saying the lease would be up January 1st. I was shocked and confused (I had just talked to him about the house and was sure we had it till June) but so relieved. I know it sounds weird to say that I was relieved after just finding out I would have no house in about six weeks, but I knew this was God working. I was excited the whole day, because, as one of my friends said, I prayed and God called me on the phone. Well, it wasn’t actually God on the phone, but it was an answer from Him in a phone call. I knew I was leaving around January 1st. That’s a pretty precise answer. But that night it did hit me that I didn’t really have a home anywhere. I don’t have a house or apartment in the States anymore, I got rid of everything except some clothes and some things friends have given me. I don’t have much, but I had a clear answer from God. So after crying myself to sleep that night (I know, I know, I’ve always been a weeper), God has just been reminding me how faithful He is, how wise He is, and that it doesn’t matter if I am confused, I just need to hear His voice and obey. He has truly led me in the past and will continue to do so.

I’m 28 and have been able to do so many things, meet so many people and go to so many places! He’s been reminding me to be thankful for all these crazy opportunities, all the homes I do have spread over the world (I’m thinking home is just where loved ones are – there’s Massachusetts (or New England in general), Pennsylvania, California, South Africa, Kenya, and all the other states in America where I have friends). It’s chaotic, but really neat. It makes for some interesting stories. Rather than be worried about what I don’t know regarding my future, I can be thankful for all that God has done. He is a very good, very big God. He’s full of surprises.

Knowing I was going home meant I had to tell the Juma family. That was unpleasant. I think they understood to an extent why I was leaving, but they want me to stay, or to come back here to live in the near future. I didn’t even know how to respond to that. But their oldest son seemed to understand the most. That God is doing something, and it’s okay if it looks different than what was planned. I’ve just started thinking that since the Juma’s want to be totally self sufficient, maybe it’s good for them I’m leaving. Maybe the less white people they see, the more of God they’ll see. They really do trust in Him for everything, and if you ask them how they raise such a big family, they always say they don’t, but God does. Maybe this will help them to believe that even more. But there is a genuine love there between us, and so I have assured them that I will keep in touch and continue to support them in any way I can. I hope others back home will continue to do so also. Just because I’m leaving, the helping does not have to stop.

Also, I never doubted coming here. I just started to doubt how long I could stay here. God made it clear to come here when He provided a house and a friend to live with. But He took those things back, and that’s okay.

On to more important things…the other day my friend Caroline, the wonderful girl who does laundry and does some other house things, was sitting with me outside. I had my Bible on the table and she picked it up, found a verse in John, and read it to me. She said her pastor had spoken on it, and it was all about how we need to know who Jesus is because He is the only way (to the Father). She goes to a Catholic church, so I was surprised how much she was talking about needing Jesus. So, of course, I agreed with her. He’s all we need.

For a while, I’ve thought about going through the kids’ notes with her. She’d understand that version much better than the adult version because of the language barrier, and she also has a son. I’ve been praying for a long time, that at the right time, something would happen there. But then I decided to leave, and I had never talked to her about the notes. If you ask a Kenyan if they want something, they’ll say yes, just to be polite. If you ask them to do something, they’ll say yes, just to be polite. I don’t want to treat the Bible or Caroline like that. So, there never seemed to be an opportunity to talk about it until the other day when she started talking about the Bible to me. So I brought up the notes. I showed her the adult version and told her I was re-writing it for children. I said I’d print out the notes I have so far and leave them with her, so she could go through it with Linus, her son, whenever she wanted. I also told her that as I continue writing them, I send them to Juma. So he would always have the notes available for her. She agreed to that, but she actually seemed interested. I didn’t feel like I was pushing her into something. I am going to print the soon and get her started! And I pray she’ll continue on. God does things at the strangest times, but it’s so good :)

As I also said in my last email, I will continue to work on writing these notes for children, no matter where I am. That has been on my heart for years, and maybe God brought me here (partly) to start working on them. I wouldn’t have started if I was at home; I would have been too busy. I was actually planning on writing it when I was like 70, and had nothing else to do. But it turns out God brought me to Africa for a little while, and I had nothing else to do. So I’ve started and I’ll continue till I finish.

I’m relieved to be going home. I can’t stop thinking about December 23rd. I cannot wait to hug my family, and to visit family that’s spread out all over, to be with my nieces, nephews and friends, to play the piano, and, that’s right, to get a little Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. America really does run on Dunkin’. I should get some percentage of their income for that advertisement on my blog…

Thanks again for your prayers, support, encouragement and emails. It means more than I can explain.