Giving away love

Getting to be a “mom” for the past few weeks has been the greatest and hardest thing in all my life.

I have loved getting to love this little one.

I have hated knowing that he won’t always be mine.

Today we took the kids to see their mom for the first time since they left her over 2 weeks ago. My heart ached for her fiercely for her when I realized that in the same way she has trusted me to take care of her baby, I will soon have to trust someone else to take care of him. What an honor that she would trust me with something so precious to her heart. I know how hard is must have been because from this side of the story, I am struggling to trust on that same level even when I know in my heart that he will be loved and cared for in such a great way.

When you are leaving part of your heart in someone else’s care, it’s always hard to wave goodbye and trust that it will be well taken care of.

Times like these I’m thankful that I’ve had 22 years of having the best mom in the world and she knows my heart better than anyone. I am so thankful for her and how she reminded me that children are all on borrowed time from God. He is the one who LETS us love them, for however long it may be.

And He loves them always always. So when my trust is failing or when my heart is breaking or when I can barely breathe from the hurt, I have to remember that HE IS FAITHFUL. And so He reminds me how lucky each person who gets to love this little one is. And He reminds me to share Martin with the world. Because bottled up in this little boy is such a great love, and how fair would it be for me to keep that only to myself?

I have LOVED watching Martin grow and learn. Nothing in the world is better than the way he smiles at me or the way his giggles sound. Nothing makes me happier than seeing his eyes brighten when he learns new words or figures out how to do something on his own. I love teaching him and laughing with him and tucking him into bed. And I love seeing Jesus in him.

I will miss him with my whole heart.

But my momma was right.

God gave me the privilege of pouring all of my love into this sweet baby so that he would be ready to be loved by someone else when the time comes for me to leave.

It is my hope and my prayer that he remembers the love that he has. That he doesn’t ever go a day without knowing how much God loves him and how much I love him. The he finds the affection he needs in his new temporary home and that he never feels abandoned or uncared for. It is my hope and prayer that I will see him again soon and that I will know how much love he has received in my absence.

I am praising God that I get to love Martin; I am praising Him that so many others will soon get to love him too.

Temporary placement, permanent love

Can I introduce you to the newest piece of my heart?

Last Saturday I was able to go with Annie and Phoebe to visit a family that we had heard about who had some babies that might need help. Since Annie is currently running the P82 baby home in Nairobi, as soon as we heard about the babies we thought that they might be able to find a good home in Neema House.

My heart would have never been ready for the kids that we were about to meet.

You always hope for the best, you talk to God and you tell Him that you want to help only as much as you are needed, that if the kids can stay with the mom, that’s the best thing.

When we met the two sweet 17 month twins and sweet 4-5ish year old Martin, we knew that they needed a good bit of help to get back to a healthy condition.

By the grace of God they have a mom who really did want to help her kids, even if she herself didn’t quite know how.

She gave us permission to take her kids to the hospital and to keep them for some time while they are getting healthy.

The babies traveled back to Nairobi with Annie and I have the awesome privilege of taking care of sweet Martin for the time being.

And gosh, what a privilege it is!!

I want to say that I’ve always believed in miracles. That I’ve always known how awesome God is and how big His works are. But this week has wrecked everything I have ever thought.

I’ve realized that I have always put a limit on the miracles that I believe, and it took this little boy to show me that my God will always always be bigger and greater and more faithful and powerful than I could ever ever hope to even imagine.

On Sunday I had a little boy who I thought didn’t even know how to smile. He was quiet and looked incredibly sad.

I would never believe that the sweet babe sleeping next to me right now was the same kid if I hadn’t witnessed the transformation every second of every day.

His body is small and fragile but his heart is huge and he has the most contagious giggle I have ever heard.

He is curious and funny and loving and such a trooper.

He loves eating and hates his medicine.

He has a rattle that he carries around everywhere and he LOVES little books.

He always manages to scoot right next to me when we are sleeping and loves to cuddle.

He loves playing peek-a-boo and will find anything that you hide from him.

He is scared of loud metal noises and going outside in the dark.

His laughter could be the soundtrack of my life all day every day and it would still never be long enough.

This is why God is good-because I get to love this little one now, with all that I have. And because I get to love him forever after, even when he is no longer with me.

We’re called to love. I’m lucky because loving right now means seeing the biggest miracle of my life.

One day he will be big enough and strong enough to not need me. But isn’t that what parents always hope for their kids, even if it means that they leave you? And even though he isn’t mine, it’s what I want for him with my whole heart.

My favorite scripture since I’ve been in Kenya has been Acts 17: 26-28. 

“From one man he made every nation, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he determined the times set for them and the exact places where they should live. God did this so that men would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from each of us. ‘For in him we live and move and have our being.’”

The other night I came to put Martin to sleep and laid down next to him and he immediately snuggled up onto my chest and fell asleep. And God said “THIS IS WHY YOU ARE HERE.”

I didn’t move for an hour.

He has a plan, a GREAT plan. And He knows where we need to be and when. And when we do what scripture says, when we reach out and seek Him and when we live and move and have our being with Him, we get to be a part of the works that He sets before us.

I love getting to love Martin. And I will love getting to love him for as long or as little as I am called to. I will love him until it hurts and then I will keep on loving him more. And even if my place in his life is fleeting, my love for him is endless.

“I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, but only more love.”

-Mother Theresa

Home

There are moments of my life where it is so easy to remember how Kenya is as much of a home to me as Georgia. Times when my heart is so happy and content here where I remember why I fell in love with this place five years ago and why I will always want to come back to it. I want to share some of these moments with you.

Kenya is home:

•      When I am curled up on the couch reading a book and drinking tea and enjoying the constant soundtrack of animals and kids
•      When I run to the supermarket and the kids on my road only wave to me in recognition instead of screaming at me in fascination
•       When I have a day that I plan all my own, where I make the arrangements and decisions and have all the freedom in the world to do what I want
•      When I go to a restaurant to pick up lunch and already know how much it will cost me because I’ve been there enough times to have the menu memorized
•      When I go to the bank and the security guard always insists on putting his card in the ATM before me just to make sure it isn’t in a mood to eat cards
•       When I am on the way somewhere and pass by friends on the street who know my name
•       When I can turn my music up and sing along to American songs while I make dinner (even if it means strange looks from my Kenyan family) 

So many pieces of my heart are here- in the people, in the culture, even in the language. And I love the times when I am perfectly comfortable being at home here. I love when I can be still and rest and not feel like just because I am in Kenya I have to be doing something productive every second of every day. (Even though I also love times when I am busy busy and full of places to go and people to see)

I don’t know that I will ever get tired of having more than one home.

Loves of my life

Sometimes God has to nudge me and remind me of how miraculous and faithful He is. Sometimes I forget to be in awe of Him and sometimes I forget the how good His promise is and sometimes I fail to see all of the wonders of His works.

Many of you will remember Paul, Willy and Issac- the three boys that we had the pleasure of meeting when I was here in December. When we met these three, the life that they knew was cold and empty and really hard. (To read what I wrote about them then, visit here: http://thebeautyofwords.tumblr.com/post/14841576195/hope )

Since the second my feet touched Kenyan soil, I have been itching to get to these boys. I wanted to see them and play with them and hug them and dance with them. God knew that I needed to see my sweet boys, and this past weekend I was able to travel with my awesome friend Gordon to Nyahururu to visit with them for a while.

Saturday night goes down in the books as one of the best nights I will ever have in Kenya. Even before Gordon and I walked through the gate, we could hear music coming from the yard. When we walked in all of the boys were singing and laughing and helping prepare supper. At first, I think they didn’t remember me well enough to show all their personality, but by the end of the night we were all laughing to tears and dancing for hours. Joy was literally in every single inch of the room and nothing could have taken the smile off my face that night. (I even watched a rabbit get slaughtered and skinned and kept my smile!)

What a transformation for those three boys, and what a joy to get to witness it! I love them with such a huge chunk of my heart and I am so thankful that God uses them to remind me every day of how prodigal we each are and how much can change when we come home to Him. 

Kenyan Recess

Recess in Kenya is something that baffles me.
 Picture this: the kids run out of the classroom like they haven’t seen daylight in weeks and roll around on the grass like there is no better playground in the entire world. They climb trees and play games that involve 15 kid pile ups and jump around on old tires and they laugh and laugh and laugh. Sometimes they form circles and dance around and sometimes they push and shove and fight with each other like they are in boxing rings. And it’s all 100% acceptable play.

Can I tell you about a game that they play? Maybe it will blow your mind the way it blew mine. All of the kids line up in this long line and then three walk behind them. The three takes turns with different jobs-one will cover the person's eyes, one will pinch their neck, and one will slap them on the back. And the the child who has their back turned must guess who it was that pinched them and who it was that hit them. And that is a GAME. Please picture my face the first time that I saw this being played. (I can guarantee you that the only way to describe it would be SHOCK.) 
If I ever were to forget how different life is here, if I were to ever fail to see the differences between teaching here and teaching in the US, recess with always be a reminder. 

Another Piece of my Heart

Every morning she runs into my arms as I step through the gate of the preschool. This has become routine for us. My heart lights up to see her beautiful face and as she wraps her arms around my neck and tucks her tiny face close next to mine, nothing has ever felt more like home. She is small, but her smile could light up an entire room. She loves to knock her forehead right against mine and stare into my eyes, always knowing that it will fill me with laughter. Her sweet face masks a story that you would never know.

She comes from a home where sickness has won too often. Her father is passed and her mom HIV+. The kindness of a neighbor has allowed her to come to school. She wears old handed down uniforms and her chance of a continuing education is not promised beyond two years of free preschool. And still, she smiles and laughs and plays and loves like the world has dealt her a better hand. She is the definition of joy and even the sun seeks to light up her face.

 This week, my little Edith has been more of a teacher to me than I have been to her. She has taught me that a smile is not dependant on circumstances, but on faith. She sings of the Lord and how she will praise His name, and while I know that she might not grasp the entirety of what that means, she chooses to sing with a smile instead of to sit in sadness. Her face reminds me every morning of the promise of joy and love and peace that we can get only from God. Her smile is contagious to such an extreme degree and already she has captured my heart completely.

My heart has been broken this week as I’ve learned how many kids are like my Edith. How many come to this school until they are too old to stay, only to find that this is the only education they might ever get. So many little ones will leave this school at 7 or 8 and not sit for interviews to go to new schools because the fees are too high for their parents to afford. My heart breaks to know that these children will have only a preschool education to fall back on. As a teacher, my heart breaks to know that there are so many who never stand a chance at going to school because the cost is too high. As a believer in a Lord who loves and seeks every child, my heart breaks to know that there are so many who will fall away from faith as they fall away from school.

My heart is heavy and light at the same time, and it’s hard to find the balance. My prayer is for each of these whom I love to have a chance. My prayer is for parents who faithfully step out and take chances on these kids who are the future generations of this country. I will hug them until my arms turn blue and laugh with them until my voice is hoarse and love them with all the love that the Lord gives me, and I will never ever stop hoping for a better future for each of these who hold a piece of my heart.

Transitions

Walking in through the small door in the wooden gate, I am immediately overwhelmed by the joy of the Lord that I can see on dozens of adorable faces. They knew that I would be there, but still so many stare at me in awe as they take in the sight of their new teacher. One girl runs up and immediately leaps into my arms. Still others run to me as they pull on my arms and ask “How are you?” a million times, even after I’ve answered. (This is a sentence that I hear at least 75 times a day because it is a staple English sentence for all Kenyan kids) Still, others stand back, more apprehensive of me because I look and sound different than they do. I take in every face that I will be seeing for the days of the upcoming months and relish in knowing that these precious little ones will be such a part of my heart. Finally, I am stepping into the role that I heard God speak into my heart so long ago.

This week I have become the teacher of a Kenyan preschool class. I have laughed and cried and gotten frustrated and been encouraged and felt every single emotion you can imagine. Coming into this I thought I would be hanging out, helping Rose in the class and observing for a bit until I learn more Swahili--I could not have been more wrong.

In reality I have spent the majority of my time this week as the sole teacher in a classroom of 32 rambunctious Kenyan kids who speak very little English. They stare at me as I try to communicate with my small Swahili vocabulary and they laugh at me when I try to show them that I mean serious business. On Wednesday I was alone in the classroom for four hours and left the school thinking that I didn’t know if I could go back. Because it was HARD. Sure, recess is fun and during break time they sit in my lap and chase me around and hang on my arms so much that I am sure I will leave here with no arm hair, but when I walk into the classroom and become their teacher, the word respect holds no meaning.

They would get loud and run around and me saying the words “SIT DOWN” and “PLEASE BE QUIET” would have zero impact (even when I tried these phrases in Swahili, the kids would laugh). All of the student teaching in the world could not have prepared me for this.

And then I remembered that I was here because God called me to be. And I realized that I’d been relying on my educational training and not my spiritual training. And so I said a prayer for patience, took a deep breathe, decided not to give up, and kept trying new approaches, hoping one would work out.

This morning most of the students were in the classroom when I arrived at the school. They were all talking and playing and running around and I thought “Oh yeah, it’s Friday, kids are always out of control on Fridays.” So I lowered my expectations and stepped into the classroom.

Everyone sat down, everyone got silent, and 32 pairs of little eyes stared at me expectantly. I could have cried in that moment. But instead I smiled and thanked Jesus for His faithfulness and looked at my beautiful class and greeted them good morning and accepted all their hugs as I made my way to the front of the classroom and braced myself for another day of life in preschool land. 

Kenya: Week One (almost)

I'm feeling as if I can say I've been in Kenya for a week, because in reality it feels as if I have been in Kenya for a month! Time moves so differently here and I think I had forgotten that an American minute is a Kenyan hour (or day sometimes). 

It's been so fun being back in Kenya and remembering all the reasons why I'm in love with this place and the people here. Even now it is raining outside and there is nothing the world that sounds the same as Kenyan rain (i.e. rain accompanied by an occasional mooing cow or squawking chicken, ect.). I've loved getting to reunite with so many pieces of my heart, but i will admit that I've been missing the pieces that stayed at home in Georgia. I think the miss has been bigger this trip because I know that it will be longer before I will be home again. Still, I am so happy to be here and I am excited for what God has planned for me!!

Tomorrow will be my first day at the preschool and I truly can't wait to meet all my new little ones!!! I'm terrified of not knowing enough Swahili to have long conversations with them, but I know that I'll learn from them even as they learn English from me! I can't wait to get to write all about them later!! :) 

Kenya bound!!!

Tomorrow I leave for four months of KENYA! I can't believe that the day is already here- I have been dreaming about this for YEARS. There are so many sweet faces that I can't wait to see again and I am so excited for the time that God has prepared for me. So many of you who will read this have heard so much of my journey with Kenya and I am so thankful for such an outpouring of love and support throughout the planning and molding of this trip. I can't wait to be back in Kenya where so many pieces of my heart are!! 
(Now I just have to finish getting packed up!)