We Treat, God Heals

One of the things that caught my eye while at the clinic in Kenya was this sign. We treat & God heals. I had to stop and think about this for a moment. Sometimes I think in America we simply declare "We treat" and see no need or place for God. Well when you rooms filled with medications, fancy machinery, and adequate staffing with years of education backing the "we," it would be easy to place the credit on humanity. However, the world I witnessed was a lot different. There were moments when I looked at the situation in front of me and thought to myself, "we" can do absolutely nothing. Sometimes this was due to a lack of something or perhaps the failure to intervene at the opportune time. Other times the situation simply was beyond man's scope of practice. Kenyans are eager to make the God claim. In fact, sometimes that is simply all there is. God's mercy.

I found myself having to truly wrestle with the question, Do I believe God heals? Do I believe He heals the same way that he did in the gospel accounts? Do I believe He heals even without modern medicine? It still tests my faith to this day. I can tell you I saw miracles. I saw a woman bleeding enormous amounts, losing consciousness...and God saved her life. I saw a young boy with a horrific burn injury happily sitting on his bed rocking out to some music. I saw mothers fighting against all odds to preserve the health of their children, born and unborn. What a privilege it is to see the hand of God at work. What an honor to surrender my hands to allow him to touch others through me.

My heart still yearns to go back. I wonder if that's what the Israelites felt like. Knowing the Promised Land awaited them, but not knowing when they were going to get there, and facing many setbacks along the way. All I know is God did not plant this desire, this calling, this insanity in me for nothing. And I must place my hope, my trust not in Kenya but in the Lord. Psalm 37:4 says "Delight yourself in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart."

As Christmas approaches, my thoughts and prayers are with the slum children. My heart breaks to think that for them, Christmas is just another day of the year- the anticipated American Christmas just a distant fantasy, part of me hopes they just do not know.... One day I will be with you again...I will teach you Christmas songs and show you pictures of snow....We will cut out paper chains and I will give you my heart....

Lean Not

Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. Proverbs 3:5-6

God speaks. A lot of times I am not a very good listener, but He speaks and He shows up. This has been a very challenging couple of months for me. Coming back from Kenya is one of the hardest things I have had to face. The "why" questions have plagued me for a long time. Why couldn't I just have stayed there? Why am I in school? Why do I stress over such small things? Why did I feel so at peace there, but cannot seem to find it here? I do not have a straightforward answer to any of those questions, but I know the Lord is preparing me for something big. Something where I will have to trust Him with my entire being and will not be able to lean on any of my own knowledge, ideas, control.

I was thinking yesterday about all the minor setbacks that seem to keep popping up. A few weeks ago, our electricity was out. A week ago my laptop essentially died and is not usable. Yesterday and throughout this quarter, I have run into some financial hardships. And although in each of these situations, MY reaction was to worry, to panic, to freak out. Yet now I can see the Lord's hand in it all. I can live without electricity. I can live without a constant connection to the internet and technology. God will provide when I know longer have adequate funds. Hmm...I wonder why I might need to begin to let all these things go...:) God has a good sense of humor.

Cards for Kenya

Quality of Life

Albert Einsten once said, "Not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted."

Although it is the 6th week of school, I feel like yesterday was one of the only days I could find true meaning in what I was doing. For my community health experience, I have had the opportunity to be involved in home hospice care. It is very humbling and somewhat upsetting to go into a person's home who you know has approximately 6 months or left to live. For me, I very much enjoy the opportunity to get to talk to someone and physically be present during a very hard time for the patient and the family- the thing that upsets me more is knowing that I won't get to go back. That I cannot continue to get to know them, to learn about their life, to pray for them...all the things that I feel that God has given me a gift for. But I still really cherished the time I spent with the patients yesterday.

One lady was a former ballet dancer and writer. She had a beautiful home, full of items collected from a lifetime of adventure. I just could imagine that every figurine, every black and white photograph, every book has a story...and I just wanted to know it all....to hear it all. I just felt my heart connect with this beautiful women...she really was stunning, even though she is getting close to the end. Another woman living in an adult family home told me all about her love of shopping at consignment stores and just the thrill of getting to go out and do that. She expressed her sadness over having to move out of and sell her home....and I really could see her pain and how badly she wanted to live independently again. I could have sat there and talked with her all day....

I am not sure what to make of all this. I really felt sad and emotional on my drive home...but really because I just wished I could play a more significant role in their end of life care. I think I really would enjoy hospice...but I don't know if I emotionally would be able to do it...a lot of people seem like they have just come to accept that death is a frequent part of their job. And it's not even a cold-hearted emotion, just more matter of fact...everyone dies and as a hospice worker, you get to make sure it is the best it possibly can be. But I feel like every life is so precious and I don't know if I would be able to let people go so easily without taking on all of the emotions... Plus everyone keeps saying you have to work in med-surg before you can do home care and honestly I would rather not be a nurse than have to work ing med-surg....

So I just need to cherish the precious moments I had yesterday and try to continue to find meaning. I know working in Kenya is going to involve end of life care and I think in a lot of ways, Kenyans are more at peace with death than most of us are. Partially because it is so much more frequent...but also because I really think they have faith that a life with our Heavenly Father really is going to be so much better than anything we experience here on this Earth.

Life is so precious...

Beautiful Faces

Whether I like it or not, life continues on. My senior year of school has begun. My days are a juggling act, an attempted balance between the many commitments I have. My to-do list continues to grow, with no end in sight. I still cry for Kenya. I'm still searching for my place, my purpose here. I still contemplate dropping out of school- although I fully realize that decision would not be very rational or helpful in the long-term. Yet there are a few things keeping me going...

1) Faces. The beautiful faces like this one on the left. I had 3 of my favorite pictures (this one included) enlarged and printed on canvas. My wonderful housemates allowed me to hang them in our living room so I get to see them all the time.

2) Cards. I have embarked on a journey in card-making. I am using pictures I took in Kenya and some of my favorite quotes, and making cards. All proceeds will go to Imara Health Clinic. This new little project has allowed me to feel connected and I am excited to share the cards with people throughout this year.

3) Friends. I am convinced that I have the best friends in the world. Friends that will sit down and watch a 14 minute slideshow of Kenya pictures. Friends that don't think it's weird that I tend to cry every time I get an email from someone in Kenya. Friends who continue to stand by me day by day (despite how many times I have already threatened to drop out of school).

Peter, the director of the clinic, emailed me today. It was very touching and emotional for me. One of the things he wrote was:

What is even more heart touching was your very generous donation towards the clinic work,You demonstrated your faith with works just as the Bible teaches.You kept the funds with you for almost three weeks and eventually you were touched and chose to give to Imara .We believe this is divine connection which we have always desired and prayed about since 2002. Myself and our entire team believe that the profession you are pursuing is a calling to you and no doubt you will be a great Nurse touching peoples lives.

I can take no credit for either the donations nor the calling that has been placed on my life. I don't understand why I have to spend another year here, when my heart exists somewhere else entirely. Yet I have to trust that in the same way God answered their prayers from 9 years ago, that God will be faithful in answering mine too. Peter also mentioned that they successfully delivered twin boys that were breech! I will leave you with that picture.

Body & Soul

I have avoided blogging up until this point because I was afraid the things I had to say would be too sad. However, I now realize if I wait until I am not heart-broken any longer, I may never write again.

After 10 days back in the States, in some ways life has completely gone "back to normal." I drive my car to get places. I have dozens of clothing choices, in fact I have so many clothes that they barely fit in my closet. I have moved into my Seattle apartment, and spent the past several days cleaning, cooking, and running errands. School resumes on Monday, so my relaxed days of my own agenda are quickly coming to an end. Soon my schedule will be dictated by my class syllabus; my nights filled with textbooks, notecards, and coffee.

In other ways, my physical body is here, but my soul is in Kenya. I made a slideshow of my favorite Kenya pictures, and I watch it every chance I get. I have been making greeting cards, as it is my new effort to raise funds for the slum clinic. I wonder how the people I met are doing. I think about the kids, the moms, the nurses, the doctors, the teachers, the drivers, and my fellow volunteers. I wonder how life can so quickly move on and I desperately cling to the hope that I won't lose the ability to feel connected to Kenya, even if it is painful. I guess I don't know why I am here. I mean, logically and rationally, yes I know. I have to finish school. I need to get a real job. My "life" is here. I guess I am just supposed to accept that and be okay with it.

I feel like I am mourning the loss of a part of me...a part of me that I cannot seem to fully find and embrace here. Maybe it will come...maybe it just got a bit delayed and has to catch a later flight. But what is that part of me decides to reside in Kenya just waiting for me to come back. And I don't know when I can go back. I just have to tell myself it is going to be soon, because that is the only answer I can live with right now.

In the meantime, I just beg God to give me peace and the strength to get up in the morning. I pray for even a small glimpse as to why I am suppose to be here right now.

Stolen Heart

I don't think you can ever really prepare yourself for a goodbye. I haven't let myself cry since I have been here but the tears are currently welling up in my eyes as the end of my time in Kenya is here. The only thing that makes it okay is that Lord willing I will be back. Hopefully soon. Kenya stole my heart.

I am happy to report that all donations were hand delivered to the slum clinic on Saturday. They were so gracious and grateful, and it was a joy and privilege to get to be the messenger. One day I will go back there, but in the meantime, I will keep in touch with all the wonderful people who work there.

I will come home the same physical body, but my soul, my mind, my heart have all been changed. I fear it will be all too easy to transition back into my comfortable life in the US, where the biggest stress of the day is studying for a nursing test or getting stuck in traffic. I can only hope that I can find meaning in both worlds. In a lot of ways, life seems more real here in Kenya. You cannot shy away from suffering, from sickness, from death. Based on circumstances, new life, a plentiful harvest, another day to live are all things to be celebrated.

Kenya...thank you. From the bottom of my heart. To all the wonderful, gracious people I have met over the past month, it has been a pleasure. I wish I could stay longer. I wish I had the ability and the resources to ease your burdens. Thank you for taking me in like a member of your family. Thank you for your willingness to teach and to share part of your lives. I'll be back. It's not goodbye. I'll see you soon.

Blessings

Normally I don't blog two days in a row, but today was quite meaningful and really had an impact on me. Today was the first time I spent a significant amount of time in the slums. I wouldn't say I was surprised necessarily by anything I saw; to some extent I expected the trash covering the street, the plethora of smells, the haphazardness of the makeshift buildings. Rather, I think I was taken aback by how "normal" the people were. If I had seen most of them anywhere other than the slum, I probably would have never guessed where they resided. We went to a school....a very tiny place for around 60 students, ages 2-10 I would say. The teachers were absolutely lovely. Like the workers at the health clinic, I have the upmost respect for the work they do. The kids are supposed to pay a small fee for their schooling, but many are unable to do so, causing the teachers to receive minimal salary. Yet these woman absolutely LOVE what they do...it was so apparent, even in just the several hours we spent with them.

And the children. Where to begin. They were so well-mannered, full of laughter and joy. The older ones naturally kept an eye on the younger ones. They took turns playing games. They were just so happy to play a simple game in a circle or run a relay or just hold hands with one of us. I immediately fell in love with a little girl, who I would guess to be about 2. She did not say a single word to me, but that did not stop me from talking to her. She was just completely content holding my hand or being held in my arms. I couldn't get her to tell me her name, so I asked one of the teachers and she told me her name was "Blessings." I thought that was quite fitting. Now I am sure I could have fallen for any one of those precious kids....but I think this little girl was just another way that God is reminding me of his faithfulness and all of the "blessings" that he has given to me.

I may be physically leaving Kenya in three days, but my heart has been completely taken and broken for these beautiful people.

Reluctant Goodbyes

I can hardly believe this adventure is almost over. In four days, I will be boarding an airplane and begin my journey back to California. I fear that once I arrive home, my previous life will resume quickly and easily, despite my attempts to keep that from happening. I always dread the transition period of returning to the culture and the life in which I was born and raised. Don't get me wrong- I will be very happy to see my family and friends, and to have the opportunity to tell them of all I have experienced over the past month. However, it is hard to know you are leaving behind a country so in need with so many people suffering. I hate that I have such a comfortable life to return to, and that as much as I might like to think I have sacrificed, I quickly am convicted that no matter what conditions I have seen here in Kenya, I still have one thing that so many people don't: security. Lots to think about.

So today was my last day at the hospital. I have to say that it was a pretty darn good day, as far as last days are concerned. It began with most of the typical tasks that nurses in Kenya do....bed making, dusting, 10 am observations. Things got a bit exciting when I realized one of the mothers in the labor area was in labor, and what appeared to be quite close to a delivery. Sure enough, the head nurse came over to check to see how dilated she was, and in the process of gathering the supplies, I looked and could see the baby's head starting to come out! So I got the privilege of being present for another birth- this one occurred quite quickly and it was so amazing to be able to assist delivering a baby! As soon as the baby came out, the nurse handed the baby boy to me and I took him to the nursery and welcomed him into the world. Let me just say, the second time was just as good as the first. And it was really the perfect ending to my time spent on the maternity ward.

And then it was time for goodbye....as I was taking vital signs in the afternoon, I began the process of saying goodbye to some of the patients that I had grown close to. The women are so amazing....one lady who has been there for 2 weeks wanted to add me on Facebook so she could tell me when she had her baby...and right then and there we scrolled through a lot of "Alyssa Singh's" on her cell phone until we found me. Another mom told me that she thought maybe I should get a boyfriend so that "Kenya could be my home forever." She even offered up her brother. I said goodbye to the nurses and a couple of the medical students. I had written them a short thank you note and had bought 1 oz bottles of hand sanitizer as a small gift, as they have been so mesmerized by mine. They were so grateful. My final goodbye was to the security guard, Josephine. We took a picture and she told me if she ever gets a Visa from the Embassy, she will come and visit. Bless her heart.

I have been holding back tears most of the afternoon. The thought of leaving Kenya is starting to sink in and really breaking my heart. I think the thing that makes it okay is that I know when I do come back next time I will be more equipped and more able to help people and learn more. I just have to hold on that this isn't goodbye, just a see you later....maybe even a see you soon. Only God knows that.

Slum Clinic & Tea Fields

It has been a wonderful weekend here in Kenya. Currently, it is pouring rain and the sound of the rain on the roof is one of my favorite sounds. Today my friend Elena and I decided to take a day off (weekend volunteering is optional) and take a walk to the tea fields. We had been told by previous volunteers that "there is this place where you can go have lunch and a tour and buy tea." We had attempted to get directions, but as we left mid-morning, we had very little concrete information to go off of. So we walked through the tea fields near where we are staying, took pictures, and figured we would just ask for more specific directions along the way. Well, everyone we attempted to talk to either seemed to have no idea about this place we were asking about, or they were convinced we actually wanted to go to this waterfall picnic area. So after a long walk following wrong directions, we finally came across a security guard at a school who knew what we were talking about and pointed us in the right direction. I was very happy when we finally saw the sign for Kiambethu Tea Farm.

It is a lovely place. The tea farm has been owned by the same family for four generations, a white couple that have lived in Kenya their whole lives, Fiona & Marcus. We were treated like royalty...served a cup of tea in the main house and given some information about how tea is grown and manufactured, and a bit of family history. Then we had a little tour of the surrounding forest and tea fields by this Kenyan gentleman who was quite funny. This was followed by drinks on the veranda and then a scrumptious lunch at a table set for 2 on the main lawn (there were other visitors there as well, but we had a separate table)...so much delicious food: soup, bread rolls, beef, potatoes, vegetables, green salad, fruit salad, cheese & crackers, homemade ice cream, and souffle. Such good food and a beautiful place to enjoy it. We purchased some of the tea that they grow, and signed the guestbook. As we walked outside to head back, we could hear a storm brewing, and Marcus graciously offered to drive us home.

Yesterday, I got to go back to the slum clinic, which I was completely stoked about. When I arrived, a woman had just given birth and although the baby was fine, it has been a struggle to get the baby out. The mom was still bleeding significantly and had multiple tears that really needed serious repair. The electricity was out, so the nurse had me hold a flashlight so she could see where to stitch. I handed her supplies as she attempted to stop the bleeding with cotton and stitches. I asked this nurse if she had ever been taught how to do this type of work, and she just smiled and said, I just have had to teach myself. And that really sums up how these dedicated nurses are. They just go above and beyond the call of duty...doing everything from delivering babies to immunizing children to treating malaria, measles, HIV/AIDs, to cleaning the place to counseling. I am just so inspired and amazed by the work they do. They work often for 24 hour shifts or longer, and most of them have a second job in order to bring in enough income (as the clinic is so underfunded that they essentially are volunteering there time). After spending awhile assisting the nurse, I spent an hour talking to the director of the clinic. This was a very beneficial conversation as I learned about how the clinic came to be, their mission, how they manage to fund themselves, their policy for treating everyone regardless of ability to pay, and their hopes for the future.

I was happy to tell him, Peter is his name, about the generous donations I have received from family, friends, and classmates in the States. The most pressing supply needs are gloves and cotton wool. He also said they have limited supplies of some vital medications. So next week, I will bring the donation and it will be put into an account from which they buy supplies. We discussed how it is better for them to buy things on an as needed basis, as if they get too many items in stock they may expire or be a target for theft. He mentioned that 2 things they would LOVE to eventually have were a wheelchair and a stretcher. I can assure you that this clinic is very worthwhile and a respected place in the area. The work they are doing is vital to improving the quality of life for the people living in the slums. At multiple points in the conversation I was holding back tears, because it really is something so near to my heart.

Logistically I don't know how this will work out, but I want to move to Kenya and work in that clinic. And I want to raise more funds. So my mind is already spinning with passion and ideas and new projects I probably don't have time for, but I can assure you this will NOT be the last time you will hear about the slum clinic.

Thank you to EVERYONE who donated money. I am so honored to be able to share it with such a deserving project. I pray God will continue to bless you all for your generosity.

Bathrooms, Babies, & Bumpy Roads

Bathrooms: On Wednesday, while all the rest of the volunteers decided to observe the Muslim holiday celebrating the end of Ramadan by skipping project, Elena and I went to Hope School to build a bathroom. Yes, we assisted in the reconstruction of the bathrooms at the school. Our primary task was to saw pieces of wood with this prehistoric looking saw. Needless to say, it took a lot of energy, time, and willpower to saw even one piece of wood. Luckily, some of the African impact staff, Desmond, Richard, and Moses, were there to both supervise and take over when needed. I do have to say that the framing turned out to be structurally strong and well-built, despite the most basic of supplies. I unfortunately made the mistake of mentioning that my grandpa was a carpenter...just because I have used a saw before in my life does not by any means qualify me as a professional builder. We had a lot of laughs and an enjoyable time. It is exciting to think that the kids will have a new bathroom to use when school begins for the first time on Monday.

Babies: Since beginning my time volunteering on the maternity ward, I have been praying that someone will give birth during my time there. I have come close multiple times...but yesterday was my lucky day. Mid-morning, I heard a woman screaming about every five minutes. Of course, I do not enjoy hearing anyone in pain, but I realized this meant she most likely was well on her way to being fully dilated. Awhile later I asked one of the nurses when she thought the baby would be born, and she assured me it would be within the hour. I could barely contain my excitement. Luckily, I was busy, as the ward was completely full and there had already been 2 C-sections that morning. And then the time came. I will spare you the graphic details (although I forced some of the volunteers to visit to them last night at dinner), but it was completely amazing to watch. Bloody, yes. And nothing sophisticated about it. But a new life, a new baby entered the world. The mother was a champion in my mind, no painkillers and a 3.8 kg baby (that is a big baby by Kenyan standards). After watching the events that occur after the birth, I got to go see the baby in the nursery, hold it, and a short time after, bring the baby back to the morning. I definitely will not forget that experience.

Bumpy Roads: This morning, as we awaited our ride to project, we were greeted, and a bit startled by a rather large vehicle. The best way I can describe it is a garbage dump truck with certain elements of a bulldozer that is equipped in the back with 20 seats and 2 tables. I recognize the image in your head right now might seem a little odd...you are on the right track if this is the case. We had a laugh about it...then realized it would be our form of transportation for the day. Well, it was quite the ride. Possibly better than Indiana Jones. At one point, Alexia got whacked with a huge tree branch as we had rolled up the plastic windows...that gives you some idea as to how high up we were...tree-branch level. So in addition to our whiteness, we were parading around Kenyan villages in this massive thing...causing much attention and excessive waving and screaming by kids and adults alike. It was fun for about 5 minutes...then I was just wishing that I could be invisible for awhile...instead of being looked at like a celebrity, or a circus show. There were a few moments when I felt like the entire vehicle was going to tip over and one time flew out of my seat and smacked into the one in front of me. The day ended with a rendition of all the patriotic American songs (after driving by the U.S. Embassy) Alexia and I could think of....sang especially loud for the Canadians with us. Another great day in Kenya.

Reflection

I don't have anything profound to share this evening, just a few reflections. I have really been blessed by my time at the hospital. It is just such a joy to be in the presence of mothers and their newborn babies. I was reminded that sometimes bringing new life into the world comes with added responsibility as I met a newborn baby with Down Syndrome in the nursery. Unlike in the United States, most people do not have the luxury of prenatal testing, so the diagnosis came as a surprise to the mother. Still a beautiful baby and I can only hope that it receives the resources it needs as it progresses through life. Another baby is fighting a high fever, while another lies in the incubator. But I am just so inspired by the mothers' and the strength they display.

I was talking to a lady who is a security guard at the hospital. I was asking about her children and who watches them during the day. She smiled and said very matter-of-factly, "Oh they look after themselves." I could not contain my shock as I said..."But they are only 4 and 6, right?" "Yeah, the 6-year-old takes care of the 4-year-old." I was just silent for a bit, as I tried to wrap my mind around this logic. I had so many questions...who feeds them? How do they get a hold of you if they need someone? What is one of them gets hurt? Do they feel abandoned? Are they scared? Yet I immediately scolded myself for my harsh judgment of her parenting. As a single mother, what other choice does she have? In her mind, the salary from working 7 days a week is worth more in terms of providing for her children than any other alternative. And sadly, her situation is one of the better ones in that she has a stable job with a steady income. As I rode in the van today, I just kept thinking how I do not understand how people survive here. I mean, I understand, a least on a basic level, how people arrive at their socioeconomic statuses in America. Even for those without a job or a home, there are some resources which are accessible...whether it be friends and family, a shelter, a welfare check, a soup kitchen... But as I was sitting in the car, I look out and in maybe a 300 foot stretch of road, I saw 5 different women selling charcoal. And I just couldn't help but wonder how they survive. Even if a lot of people need charcoal...even if they sell to maybe 5 customers a day, how in the world do they make enough to support themselves, much less their families? Yet they do. Somehow they do.

And it just brings me to tears thinking about how the choices people here have to make are so much harder than the ones I have to make. They have to choose between food and clothes...while I choose my major in school or which souvenirs I want to take home. They choose between buying medication and sending their children to school. I choose between what type of nursing I want to do or what kind of sandwich I want for lunch. I have to keep some sort of perspective though. As much as I want to understand, there is still a trench between us...I am white. I am American. I am "rich" by their standards. I have choices. And I cannot pretend I do know what their lives really are like. Just saying I like Kenya or I want to live here really means nothing. I can only hope my actions speak forth more than my words. That when I ask them a question, I wait long enough to hear the answer. And that love bridges all.

Gaining Perspective

As I was journaling a couple nights ago, I had this thought that really spoke to me:
I know a lot about Kenya but not a lot about Kenyans.

It takes a long time to really get to know a people. It's like you take for granted that you really know your own culture because you have been raised in it to the point where it is completely natural. It is only when coming into contact with another's culture that you begin to realize things about your own culture. Of course, I recognize a month is not near enough time to get to know the Kenyan culture, but I do believe it is a good starting point. I can read books, perform Google searches, talk about Africa, support causes....but it is a completely different thing to get to know the people...to understand the way they think about things, to know what they value, what makes them happy and sad and upset and content, to hear their stories, to begin to share in their lives as a companion as opposed to an observer. It may be years before I have the chance to move here permanently, but for now I will relish in all the opportunities I have been provided to come to know Kenyans.

A couple examples to share. When I arrived at the baggage claim in the Nairobi airport, an African Impact driver named Bernard picked me up. Now I was exhausted from long travels, it was raining outside, and here I was with this complete stranger driving a good 2 hours to Limuru....but thanks be to God, we immediately connected. We shared about our families, our travels, our passions. We talked about our faith, hardships we had been through, and beauty of Kenya. We discussed our mutual love of reading and I showed him the book I was reading at the time, "Strength in What Remains" by Tracy Kidder. He nonchalantly asked if he could read it, and I said I would be happy to give it to him once I had finished. Well yesterday was the first time that I have seen him since, and this morning I presented him with the book. Oh, the look of joy in his face! Now this book cost me less than $5, but to him, this book was such a valuable gift.

Yesterday I was in the maternity ward and was quite happy to see Mary, a nursing student I had met a few days before. She graciously let me tag along and assist her with her daily routine. We were able to share some laughs and I began to pick up on her sense of humor. After we shared a cup of tea together (this is a very important part of a nurse's day), she told me that for lunch we would go to "the place where she likes to eat and fall asleep." I just smiled and happily followed her outside as she took me back behind the hospital buildings to a grassy area behind the surgical theatre. We took a seat and began to eat our lunch in the sun. We talked some, but mostly eat and sat in silence, just enjoying each other's company while resting both our body and mind. When our lunch time was over, we picked ourselves up and happily walked back into the ward, ready to get back to work.

It's amazing how quickly you end up adapting to a new place after just a short time. For instance, today on the ride home one of the volunteers said, "Hey look, there's a camel." Surprisingly, my initial reaction was just to casually look out the window and think to myself, "hmm that's a nice looking camel." I expect the roads to be uneven, bumpy, and at times cause you to hit your head on the roof of the van. I always bring hand sanitizer as I rarely have water, soap, AND something to dry my hands with. I'm not surprised that when children on the road see me they either smile and wave excitedly, or look completely frightened. Still, there are things I am NOT used to. First one being haggling. I absolutely hate it! Today the minute we walk into the Masai Market in Nairobi, you have every vendor yelling at you, trying to shake your hand, asking you to look at their merchandise, and reminding you that "looking is free." Yet the very second you even glance at something they are selling, it is as if you have committed to buy it! And you can never just tell them you want to buy just ONE, they want you to buy 2, 3, even 4. And you just want to say "I am sorry but I do not want four chessboards" or "The last thing I need is a carved elephant and zebra," but of course, you end up saying "I'll think about it." And then if you actually WANT something, the games begin. Sometimes they will not even give you a price to start at, they instead make YOU tell them a price. Although this sounds customer friendly, it is definitely not. You name a price too high and then you just got ripped off. You name a price too low and they feel completely insulted, and you feel guilty as you are fully aware you have more than that in your pocket. So you convince them to tell you a price. Someone told me to get a fair price (as they try to rip us off because we are white and are loaded with money), you need to take the price they offer, divide it in 1/2 and then subtract a couple 100 shillings. Of course, when you name this newly calculated price, they act like you have just shot them in the heart. So then you are faced with a dilemma...do you give in and increase your offer substantially? Or do you stand firm and walk away insisting that is your price? Do you attempt to increase your price a little bit and meet in the middle? Sometimes when I reach this crossroad, I realize I may not even want this painting or bowl or necklace at all! All this to say, I got some nice artwork today at a good price. And I am exhausted.

Circle of Life

In addition to being a very beautiful song from the Lion King, the "Circle of Life" relates to the stages of life I have witnessed thus far in Kenya...from birth to near death. I will elaborate on that shortly.

Days I have been in Kenya: 8
Pictures Taken: 249
Times I have had to squat & pee in a hole: 2
Days with sun: 2
Nights with a fire built: 8
Current number of volunteers: 16
Mosquito Bites [that I am aware of]: 0!

Let me attempt to quickly update you on the past several days. On Saturday, I got to go to the Imara Clinic that is located on the outskirts of the Mukuru slum. Despite a long drive thanks to Nairobi traffic, I absolutely loved my time spent there. It is not big or elaborate by any means, but the work that they do with very little space, resources, and staff is quite amazing. The nurse that I spoke to told me she normally works 24 hour shifts! Somehow they manage to keep the clinic open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. While I was there, they were doing baby immunizations, so I got to see a lot of adorable children. My job was to weigh the babies, record their weights on the chart, and administer the oral polio vaccine. Having seen a patient suffering from polio in the hospital, my appreciation for the vaccine has increased tremendously. Although children are vaccinated routinely at home in the States, as I watched these children receive their shots and the 2 drops I placed in their mouths, it really hit me that this makes a difference. These children coming in are the future and if they can be spared from some horrible preventable diseases, then that is one step closer that Kenya, and other impoverished countries, are to saving the next generation.

On Sunday, 5 of us volunteers went to Hell's Gate National Park. We rented bicycles at the entrance and cycled along bumpy, rocky paths through some amazing scenery. It is a fairly dry area, but has breath-taking rock formations and some wildlife...mostly zebras and gazelles. But still...to be biking along next to a zebra is pretty great. So we biked until we reached the place where you can go hiking/climbing down into a gorge. A guide took us on this hike...and it was a bit intense for me....at several points we had to climb rocks and there were just small notches upon which to put your feet...but we all survived. The views were lovely...parts of it were inspiration for some of the scenery in Lion King. Fun day out (and still a bit sore).

Yesterday and today I have been in maternity ward at the hospital. It has been quite amazing to be able to see some many newborn babies! I love being with the brand-new babies in the nursery. Today I was on rounds with the doctors as they consulted with a lady, then all of a sudden she was on a stretcher going to "theatre" so I got to go and watch her C-section! Then later baby Neema (which means Grace in Swahili) was brought to the nursery were we bathed her and put on her first outfit. It was quite neat to be able to welcome a child into the world in that way. I have learned a lot being in a new department. In comparison to the men's ward, the maternity ward is a bit nicer and a little better equipped. However, all the women who have given birth are all together in the ward with their beds just separated by some curtains. I have to give Kenyan (and probably all African) woman some major credit because despite the great pain they must be experiencing, they rarely cry out and do not receive medications for pain. I was told a good number of women still have their children in their homes, and that most of the women who come to the hospital either have some money or they have been advised to do so due to a secondary condition or possible birth complication. There was a women who gave birth sometime last night and I learned about her case while the doctors made rounds. Apparently she had some sort of cardiac surgery a few years ago because she has rheumatic heart disease (a complication of a strep infection). She has not been taking her heart medications since the surgery because she said she can't afford them. The doctors seemed quite concerned, and advised her not to have any more children so she "wouldn't risk leaving any more behind." One thing I have noticed is that a lot of the health care providers here do not easily sympathize with their patients. They seem to have a more matter-of-fact and tell-it-like-it-is attitude. I find myself wanting so badly to provide a reassuring word or somehow lighten the burden of the news the patients receive...yet with a language barrier and even my skin color, it is quite difficult to do.

It's kind of the age-old lesson of you think you are going somewhere to serve or to help others, but you find that really they are helping you, that everything you witness is teaching you and giving you a new perspective on pain, suffering, resiliency, health, resources. I do know one thing for certain- I want to move to Kenya and I want to start a clinic...a free clinic... It still seems like a distant dream...and quite a big project for a young nurse from the US, but that's what puts my heart at peace. I think a lesson God has been teaching me for awhile now is don't make too many plans...because life is happening now. And so for now, I am here in Kenya...having an amazing time, learning and seeing and experiencing so much.

As a Kenyan proverb says: Hurrying has no blessing.

Hope

It's Friday night here in Kenya. Despite what you may be imagining, it is quite cold. In fact, I have worn a sweatshirt every day I have been here and currently there is a fire burning in the room I am in. I have to say that I am pretty spoiled in terms of my accommodations. But it is nice to have a place to relax at the end of the day.

Today we went to Hope School in Limuru, which was only a short drive from the volunteer house. School is not actually in session now, as it is "holiday," but that actually makes it a better time to haul in a bunch of volunteers to do some work. We had been told that the objective for the day was to "plant a hedge." When we arrived, it was discovered the "hedge" (the plants) had not arrived yet, so we decided to clear some debris and trash while we waited. Immediately, the kids began to come. Pretty much wherever the "mezungus" are, the kids follow. They were actually quite eager to help us, although seeing young children with machetes in their hands was quite alarming. The debris we were picking up and collecting in a pile contained all sorts of things. I found clothes, shoes, bottles, cassette tapes, wrappers, corn cobs, broken glass, among other things. Once we had a decent sized pile, it was doused in some lighter fluid and lit to burn. I guess when you do not have any waste removal system in place, this is the best option.

While the trash collecting was in process, some donkeys trotted by pulling a cart full of small green plants. We dug holes along the perimeter of the barbwire fence enclosing the school and planted probably around 50 or so plants. I got quite dirty, but had a great time. It is very satisfying to beautify a place that seems so thirsty for new life. I hope that the plants take root and grow big and strong, and are present for many children to see as they come to school.

Now the number of kids just exponentially increased as the morning wore on. All ages, from infant babies being held by their siblings, to 12 and 13 year olds. They were so happy to see us. They just wanted to hold my hand, touch my hair, be picked up. One little girl, Joyce, was mesmerized by my watch. She was probably only 5 or 6 years old. She just loved pushing the buttons on the side to make a short beeping noise. She did it over and over again. At one point she looked up at me and said "I want it." Now, I am not necessarily attached to my watch as a possession, but as it currently serves as my alarm clock and only way to keep time, it has become sort of a necessity. I shook my head, but man was she persistent. She eventually surrendered her efforts and seemed content holding my hand, even fighting other kids who tried to hold my hand as well. We did the Hokey Pokey with the kids, and then played some of their games. They were all smiles and having so much fun. In those moments it didn't matter that their clothes were falling apart or that they smelled of urine or their heads had patches of a fungal infection. It just mattered that we are share a common thread....we are human, we have a soul, we long to be touched, we need to be loved.

Even as I type this, it brings tears to my eyes. I find it so hard to know what the best way to help children like these is. They clearly lack some essential material goods, but does providing those things for them on a short-term basis really help? And who am I to say that I really know what things they need. And if you treat the fungal infection on their head, what about their lack of good nutrition, their high risk of developing other tropical diseases, and even compliance with treatment? Then a part of you thinks it must be best just to support the projects and organizations that work with these kids...but is that the easy way out?

I guess the two things I have come to learn thus far are 1) I need to learn Swahili if I am ever going to come back here. It is just a must. It is so difficult to have a language barrier and really know people's needs and 2) I will never be able to help everyone. There is no program, organization, project, hospital, etc. that can meet all people's needs. And that is really hard to come to terms with, but I think God just asks us to be faithful in the work we are given to do.

Jambo tangu Kenya!

I'm here! I arrived exhausted but well on Monday evening with both of my bags! I can honestly say I really do enjoy the transportation part of traveling. I sat next to wonderful people on the plane...on my last flight I sat next to a nurse who was on her way to Tanzania to do a clinic there...so we had LOTS to talk about. It was raining when I arrived in Nairobi, and it was a 2-hour drive to Limuru, where the volunteer house is located. Let me just say Nairobi traffic is absolutely insane. I am not sure if I will ever be able to completely get use to that! But praise God we made it...there were definitely a few close calls!

I won't bore you with too many logistical details, but I began volunteering Tuesday. After discussing with the project managers, it was decided the best fit for me was going to be at Kikuyu Hospital. So slightly different than what I was anticipating, but I trusted their judgement and was just excited to be able to start so soon. I got to meet with the Matron of the hospital, which is essentially the Director of Kenya. She was extremely helpful and wonderful to talk to. (I even found out how I can become a nurse in Kenya after getting my license in the U.S.!)

I was taken to the male ward (they split their wards male and female), and I was given a quick tour. Now this hospital is fairly large and has a lot of resources (at least for those able to pay). All of the different departments are in separate one story buildings, so when you need to transfer a patient to a different area you simply just wheel the bed outside on the sidewalk and take them somewhere else! I have just been like a sponge taking everything in. I know anything I attempt to write at the moment will not come even close to the real experience, but I will try a paint somewhat of a picture.

There are 34 beds in the male ward...4 beds to a room. 2 of the beds are private. Aside from the private rooms, there are no bathrooms in the rooms. There are about 3-4 licensed nurses and 4-5 nursing students who do everything. Some of them were just in their second year of schooling, but they were very much competent at the tasks they were doing. The patients do not have call lights, so they basically just lay in bed until someone comes to them. I was amazed that I did not hear patients calling out, nor have I ever heard a patient ask for pain medication.

In terms of supplies and resources, they really just try and do the best with what they have. I was pleasantly surprised to find they had a good supply of gloves and seemed to use them at the appropriate times. On the other hand, today they had no clean bed sheets, so as we made the beds, we simply shook off the sheet on their bed and put it right back on. They also have no towels, so when we were giving a patient a bed bath, I just had to use a hospital gown to dry him off. They do have the ability to take xrays, ultrasounds, and CT scans. They have a small laboratory and send out anything they cannot do themselves.

One of the things that has really impacted me is some of the diagnoses of the patients on the floor. One man I helped to bathe today suffers from polio. The nurse asked me if I care for many polio patients, and I just shook my head...thinking to myself how polio has almost been eradicated around the world, thanks to vaccination. Another man has TB and HIV. Now in the States we probably would place this patient in an isolation room and be extra cautious in everything we did. But here....he was just in a room with other patients and the only different as care providers was that we wore masks along with our gloves when caring for him. He has an awful septic wound on his abdomen and it is so deep you can see his organs. I got to assist with changing the dressing. It was sad to me that they didn't have the nice sterile stuff with silver and other minerals that aid in wound healing. They just had some gauze pads and then we wrapped a roller bandage around that. I was also informed that he always needed a sputum cup near his bedside. I noted his teeth were an orange-ish color, which I remembered is a side-effect of a common TB medication. It almost doesn't seem real caring for patients with diseases that up until now, I really have only read about.

Thank you for all of your prayers. I am doing well and so happy to be here.

Seasons

Tomorrow is my last day of my job at summer camp. As to be expected, this ending is bittersweet. I will not miss the long hours on my feet, losing my voice by days end, dragging kids to thinking corner, or constantly playing referee among feisty first graders. However, I will miss the times when a child would come up to me and say "Miss Alyssa, you look beautiful today." Or when a certain little boy would fall asleep while serving his time in the corner. I will miss the dozens of pictures that were created especially for me, and the moments when I could tell the kids were just absolutely delighted, full of smiles and innocent laughter. [The moment that immediately comes to mind was water day...the kids LOVED chasing and squirting me with water :) ] In Ecclesiastes, it says "to everything there is a season." And I would have to agree. I know it is time for this season to end. Now I must entrust these little ones to the Lord and ask that they grow up to be kind, honest, and hardworking men and women who love the Lord.

In just 2 days, I will be off on my adventure to Kenya. I have been so blessed by my friends and family. Thank you to every one of you who supported my efforts to raise funds to purchase much-needed medical supplies. I will purchase the supplies in country which allows me to not only support the local economy, but also to really obtain the items that the organization really needs as I see it firsthand. Thank you to all of my friends who have sent me letters, packages, and other forms of encouragement. You are such a blessing in my life.

The road to get to this point in time has not been easy. There have been some bumps and potholes along the way. Even yesterday it seems I strained my calf muscle, and in the process of me trying to ice it, I ended up causing freezer burn on my leg. Ha Ha. But I am doing well. Just a minor setback. Only now can I see the road that has led up to this trip really has taught me so much about myself, about God, and really how to really appreciate all that is good in my life. Without some hard times, it is easy to take the good ones for granted.

Today a co-worker asked me if I was scared to go. And I said no. And that was the honest answer. The way I see it....we have NO idea how many days we get in this life. All of our days are numbered. And as much as we try to protect ourselves from danger and suffering, ultimately it is God who dictates our lives. And if my last day is spent in a country that I dearly love doing what my heart is passionate about...then I can't think of a better way to leave this Earth. However, : ) please do pray for safety, for health, for protection, and for God's abundant love and mercy to radiate from my entire being.

Stay tuned...next post will be from Kenya!

Preparation

In 12 days, I will leave for Kenya. It will take me approximately 25 hours to travel from Fresno to Nairobi, and the time difference is 10 hours. I will spend 4 weeks (28 days) volunteering with African Impact on their projects related to medicine & health. I am so excited. I am ready to go forth on the adventure God has set out before me. I know it will not always be easy. In fact, I expect there to be times when I am completely broken by the things I see. Yet where there is pain and suffering, there is opportunity for healing, for God to come in and restore hearts and lives.

I will be the first person to tell you that you don't have to travel half-way around the world to find brokenness. I see it every day I go to work. I see it in the hospitals where I do practicum. I see it in myself. Yet God has called all of us to bring forth light and hope in different places. His still, soft voice has called me back to Kenya. For 4 weeks, I will serve with my hands and feet, offering nothing more than a physical presence that I beg the Lord to speak and shine through.

God does not call the equipped, but he equips those He calls.

Lord prepare my heart. Draw me close to you. Here I am, my hands, my feet, my ears, my eyes, my mouth..it's yours Father. Use it to bless your people. May I bring forth love and hope that comes only from you.

Dirty Feet

Yesterday during circle time, I was teaching my first grade class about Jesus and the 12 Disciples. The book I was reading mentioned that one way that Jesus showed His love to his disciples (& his closest friends) was to wash their feet. Now, growing up in the "Christian circle," foot washing is familiar to me, thanks to multiple sermons on serving others, readings of the New Testament, and even a time on a missions trip where we were instructed to wash the feet of another. Yet, as I shared the story of Jesus' washing His disciples feet to my five and six year olds, I realized they had no idea of the significance. So I got a bit preachy and tried explaining how during Jesus' time, people wore sandals, walked long distances, and lived in an environment similar to a dusty desert. Although it was a nice history lesson for myself, the point I was trying to get across had yet to read the kids. I moved on to Plan B.

"Okay. This is what it would be like today. You know when your parents come home from work and they are really tired? They have had a long day and worked really hard, and at that moment they would just love a back massage."

BINGO! Their eyes lit up. "Or a bubble bath!" one girl shouted out. "In a big bathtub with jets!" another exclaimed. "A jacuzzi!" "With an ice cream sundae!" Now we were making progress...

I share this for 2 reasons. First, I just love children and the way their minds work. I love that they really do remember pretty much word for word what you say to them [this is also something I sometimes dislike]. Their hearts are so malleable, their minds so open to new ideas and hungry for knowledge. Every day I laugh and smile a lot, and want to take every single child into my arms and hold them tight, while simultaneously pulling my hair out. Second, there's a lot to be learned from the way Jesus served His disciples by washing their feet.

Living in America, we cling to our rights and celebrate freedom. From a young age, we began to exhibit our ability to say "yes" and more frequently, to proclaim "no." Although I cannot speak for an entire country, with such freedom comes an inherited sense of entitlement and expectation. We hold positions, we have titles, we earn degrees, we occupy a specific space, and we are hesitant to relinquishment any of it. Yet Jesus, the King of Kings, the Son of God, the Prince of Peace, washed dirty feet. And he didn't do it because he had to. He had no agenda to keep, no resume to build, no community service hours to complete. He loved those guys. In fact, he gave His life for those guys. Even the one who would betray Him. He washed the feet of the man partially responsible for His physical death. Amazing.

In three weeks, I go to Kenya. After five years of yearning and seeking, I will return to a place that holds a large portion of my heart. I expect the unexpected. I'm prepared to be unprepared. I know not what lies before me; I only know that the same Christ who washed his friends feet resides within me and has gone before me. I just pray and ask that my entire being will be used to love people and to bring God glory....my hands, my mind, my voice, my eyes and ears, my heart and soul, and my feet.

Jesus knew the feet he was washing would travel to many nations to tell of the good news. Lord, I pray these words over my time spent in Kenya:

1. Take my hands and let them move
   At the impulse of Thy love.
   Take my feet and let them be
   Swift and beautiful for Thee.
2. Take my voice and let me sing,
   Always, only for my King.
   Take my lips and let them be
   Filled with messages from Thee.

Shooting Stars

Did you know that when we gaze up at the night sky we only see approximately .005% of the total area of the sky?? That's pretty incredible.

Last week, I had the privilege of spending a week up at Lake Tahoe. I savored each and every moment, and constantly marveled at the beauty of God's creation. My friend Janie mentioned she had never seen a shooting star, something I just found to be unacceptable and I prayed that she would get to see one at some point during the week. One night, Janie, myself, and her friend Hunter canoed out towards the center of the lake so we could watch the stars. It was absolutely breath-taking to be lying flat in a canoe, gazing up at the vast night sky just sprinkled with stars. Stars, stars, and more stars. Beautiful.

So the mission to see a shooting star begins. I was hoping we could see one. And if we were lucky, perhaps we could all see the same one. I tried to prepare myself to really be patient and to not get discouraged if I didn't see one. I was prepared to stare into the sky for a fair amount of time. Well, it had been maybe a total of five minutes and then...a flash of light shooting through the sky. Big and bright enough to cause the three of us to cheer and attempt to contain our excitement. Magical. But that was only the beginning...in the matter of the next thirty minutes...between the three of us, we easily spotted another dozen.

I mentioned all of this star stuff because it really parallels some life lessons God has been teaching me. In my stargazing experience (which is not extensive by any means, but something I do really enjoy), most nights are just not ideal for seeing shooting stars. Growing up in a city with some of the worst air quality in the country doesn't really help, nor does living in a very cloudy and rainy city. But there are those few nights...the ones where you are away from the city, up at a higher elevation, when there's not a cloud in the sky- and presto...a beautiful canvas of the galaxy. Even still, to catch that mere glimpse of the shooting star, you must be patient. You must be content to stare up at hundreds and hundreds of white shimmering specks and just hope you are looking in the right place at the right time. Perhaps that's why seeing a shooting star is so memorable, so special and magical and breath-taking.

A friend shared a devotion with me recently entitled "Wisdom in Waiting." It talked about how inpatient we, as humans, are in waiting for the Lord to speak into our lives, specifically regarding decision-making. We may pray a time or two (if even that) asking God to lead and guide us, yet when we don't hear an answer or sense God's presence, we get frustrated. Or we decide that means God is leaving it up to us. Yet do we consider that this apparent no answer from God might mean be patient? To keep waiting? To "be still and know that I am God"?

I like to know things. I fear the unknown. I want to hear God speak. I struggle to be still. But do I really want to give up on God and settle for a cloudy, mediocre view? Or do I have the patience and the discipline to wait for clear sky and the shooting star? Aka God's still, soft voice. In the seasons of life full of storms and trials, will I have faith and hold on for the clouds to roll back? Can I trust that I will be able to see that shooting star? Will I find peace in the unknown, in the mysteries and beauty and majesty that is our Heavenly Father?

Yes. Because I have seen, heard, and experienced the Lord's faithfulness in my life. I have seen shooting stars.

Let the Little Children Come to Me

In Matthew 19, verse 14 Jesus says, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." As someone who dearly loves and cares for children, that verse has always been a powerful reminder of the importance of children in the body of Christ. Even though I have worked with kids in a variety of contexts for many years now, I am still learning new things from kids every day.

I just finished my first week at my summer job. I am the assistant first grade teacher at a summer day camp. Days are spent playing games, making crafts, reading stories, singing songs, playing outside, going on field trips, and eating snacks. I went into this position thinking I pretty much knew what it was going to be like, was fairly confident I could work with the kids, and was excited at the prospect of not really having to plan anything. Well, I will just say that things rarely turn out exactly the way you imagine them to be, and in the past five days, I have learned so much.

So here is a list of ten things I have learned (or been reminded of) this week from my first graders:

1. Choose your battles. The first couple days as the lead teacher was establishing the ground rules, I followed suit and tried to enforce them all, such as p erfectly straight lines and silent sustained reading. By day three, I realized you know if they don't line up quiet and straight all the time, oh well. If they are reading books and so excited they want to talk about it with the person sitting next to them, great! I need to save up my energy for the bigger problems- fighting, naughty words, destruction of property, etc.

2. If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Every day we get a designated gym time. The kids love running around, playing with balls, and just having lots of room to play. As I was supervising, I was watching a couple boys playing basketball. Now at this particular time, the hoops were rather high for 5 and 6 year olds, but these boys were not discouraged. They just took shot after shot. You could see the look of determination in their eyes. And finally, one of them made it! Pride and accomplishment radiated across his face. Success.

3. Kids are sponges and soak in their environment. This lesson is rather alarming to think about because it means everything these children are exposed to becomes a part of them. Throughout the week, many kids shared with me about their home lives. The more I learned about their environments, the more their behavior made sense to me. And these kids hear what you are saying, even if you don't think you are listening. If you say you are going to do someting, you better do it or boy will they call you out on it!

4. Be patient, just as Christ is patient with us. I believe this will be a lesson I will continue to learn all summer. Of the 25 or so kids in my class, there are about 5 who are particularly challenging. The most frustrating part is that they are often unphased by discipline. In a given day, they may go to "thinking corner" multiple times and have to sit out during activities, yet they still continue to misbehave. Yet I know in my heart it is those kids who need my love, my care, my encouraging words, and my patience the most. It's easy to love the well-behaved, quiet, sweet children. But the true test of character is loving those who aren't as easy to love.

5. Share the things you love with others. After the first day of day camp, I realized that one of the things I loved as a kid (and still love to this day) was being read to. So I decided to make time each day to do just that. I have found so much joy in picking out books that I love to share with them. So far we have read If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, Corduroy, There Was an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly, and Where the Wild Things Are. It is probably the only time in the 8 hour day when everyone is quiet, engaged, and content.

6. Don't judge anyone too quickly. The one thing I worried about with read-aloud time was the handful of children who tend to make every activity a bit challenging. I feared those kids who end up ruining the experience for everyone. However, I was pleasantly surprised that even the rowdy kids were paying attention as I read. I was even more surprised when after I finished reading Corduroy, a little boy [who I spend a good deal of time disciplining] came up to me and said, "Teacher, I really liked that book."

7. Speak and pray blessings. A good friend once told me that the words we use to communicate with children are either blessings or curses, and affect how that child grows up thinking about themselves. I have been thinking a lot about that in terms of how I speak when I am trying to communicate with kids when they are doing something wrong. It's been on my heart to just pray over these kids, both when I am at work with them and when I am at home. What a privilege to be able to pray God's promises and truths into the lives of these precious children.

8. God has a plan for all of His children, and I can play a role in fostering that. When we were talking about FAITH, one little girl raised her hand and said "My name means Faith." Later on another girl asked me if I knew what her name meant, to which I replied I didn't know but I would find out. The next day that was the first thing she asked me (and unfortunately I had totally forgotten to find out!). I wasn't about to forget again so that night I looked up her name and found that it meant "pure." The next day I told her what her name meant and explained what "pure" meant. She gave me a huge smile and it made me think how awesome it will be for her to grow into her name- to remain pure as she grows up to be a godly woman. I am in the process of looking up all the kids' names and am excited to be able to pray into some of their meanings! And it would be that the three troublemaker boys all have Biblical names with Hebrew origins.

9. Sing loud, dance proud. One of the kids' favorite things to do is to sing our theme songs and do the hand motions. And let me tell you, they sing loud (whether or not they know the right words!) and they really get into the motions. It is quite fun to watch and there is such a sense of innocence that is beautiful. It just makes me think that is the way we are suppose to praise God- not caring what other people think and just going for it.

10. We all need to be told we are loved. I had just sent a girl to "thinking corner" (I believe for the second or third time that day). I honestly don't remember what she did that particular time, but I do remember she was huddled up in a ball crying in the corner. And she wasn't crying because she was sorry for what she did or upset for getting in trouble- it was something more...something deeper than that. I had a moment when the kids were all happily doing their stations so I walked over to her and sat down next to her. I sat there silently for a minute or two and then I looked at her and said, "Do you know that I love you?" She was quiet for a moment, and then she nodded and looked at me and said "Yes." I then said, "And do you know that Jesus loves you even more than I do?" I proceeded to say that even though we do the wrong thing and we get in trouble over and over again, me included, how much Jesus loves us never changes. I realized in that moment that I was speaking to myself as much as I was speaking to her. I hugged her and thanked God for that moment.

Cracks

Today is the last day of the quarter (aside from finals), and although my to-do list is far from complete, I am sitting here, sipping coffee and feeling content. As I reflect back on this school year, I am just overwhelmed by how much I have changed, and all the ways in which God has shown up and been faithful. Has it been hard? Oh yeah. Have I wanted to throw in the towel and call it quits? Many times. But by the grace of God I have made it another day.

I accidentally stepped on my computer screen a couple nights ago. The result: a lightning-like radiating crack stemming from the top center of my screen. It continues to grow and is beginning to "black out" along the crack lines. The funny thing is...I honestly was not very upset by it. In fact, I realized today that the crack brings me laughter and joy, every time I turn on my computer. And it's a blessing that the cracks are along the perimeter of the screen, so I can still read everything just fine. I see it as a metaphor for how we approach our lives. There are things in our lives, cracks so to speak, that are hard, damaging, cause pain, hurt, anger, etc. Sometimes they are so big that they interfere with our ability to function. A lot of times it's hard to know why they have come to be, why they happen at certain times, and what the redeeming nature of it all is going to be. Sometimes they get worse. But God is there. God knows. God sees it. God helps us through. And we don't always know what getting through it going to look like. We don't get to know the timeline or the sequence of events, but we get to live in our current reality. We have the opportunity every day to seek out the Lord's presence. And at least for me, I see God so much more clearly when I have to look through a crack. Without the cracks, it's hard to acknowledge that I need God and that he is the sustainer of my life.

Another thing that was made clear to me this week was that becoming a nurse does not automatically transform you into a loving, compassionate, and giving person. Yes, nursing is a helping profession (and a wonderful opportunity), but without the love of Christ radiating from you, it really is just a good-paying, hard-working job. And I have seen that. Does it bother me? Oh yeah it does. At times I just want to scream "Don't you even care about your patient!!" But it's not about being a nurse. And I think that is an important lesson I am learning. It's freeing in the sense that I know if for whatever reason I do not get me license to be an R.N., I am still going to be used by God. As stressful and challenging as this past year of nursing school has been, there have been so many beautiful things that have occurred because of it. I have made some amazing friends...friends that I know will be in my life for a good while and who have made huge impressions on my heart. I have learned so much about loving people, and the power of presence and touch. I have been held as I have broken down and cried. I have held others' hands as they did the same. I have prayed and seen miraculous answers. And to think there's so much more to come...

I started this blog originally as a way to track my life in relation to my trip to Kenya before, during, and after. But as you may have gathered, it has evolved to a lot more than that. In one sense, everything that goes on in my life right now relates to Kenya. And in another sense, I am realizing more and more that it really isn't about going to Kenya. Am I excited, elated, and anticipant of the adventure ahead? For sure. But I don't want to live my life simply for just what is to come, because I honestly do not know what the future holds, as much as I look forward to things ahead. I can't dismiss all the great things God is doing right here and now. So for today, I thank God for the cracks on the screen and his faithfulness in the midst of that.

"I Care About You"

Some reflections on this week's time at the hospital..

I cared for 2 patients - both of home were in their early seventies. That was about the only thing that had in common. Going down the list almost every other assessment and observation differed. One patient was malnourished, the other slightly overweight. One patient had a complex medical history prior to admission, the other did not. Female, Male. Depressed, Optimistic. Few visitors/support system, a room decked in flowers, cards, phone calls, and an attentive wife. You get the idea.

Clearly, the second patient was easier to be around. When I walked into the room, his face lit up, he would greet me by name, and put out his hand. I was thanked repeatedly for every task I performed. We chatted like old friends...about the Peace Corp, folk dancing, nursing school, faith in God. We laughed about an episode of urinary incontinence. And yet, in the midst of all that, I knew I was not necessarily needed. If I hadn't been there, someone else would have. Whether it be his wife, one of many friends who called in to send their get well wishes, or a staff member [as they all adored him], when I left his room today after saying my goodbyes, I left with a light heart, knowing that his faith, his optimism, and extensive support system would pull him through.

On the other hand, saying goodbye to my other patient was not as painless. Without going into too many details, this woman has led a hard life. Due to a number of psychiatric issues and a debilitating swallowing disorder, this woman looked like a small child curled up in her bed. There is not an ounce of fat tissue on her body. She does not receive anything by mouth and is hooked up to a feeding machine that goes into her jejunum. She is notorious on the floor for overuse of her call light, and before I had even chosen this patient at the beginning of the week, I had already heard about her. Most of her requests were for more of her anti-psychotic medications...but really any care need was fair game. She was often anxious and in distress, and I witnessed her tell a number of people to just leave. She was intent about particulars: no lights on in the room, ice water with no ice, stack of washcloths within reach, come as quickly as possible when the call light flashes, but do whatever you can to avoid entering otherwise, don't ask a lot of questions. And I totally get why almost every care giver on the floor was griping about her. I heard everything from "I'm so sorry that you have THAT patient" to "I think it should be a rule that no one has to take care of her for two days in a row." Let's just say I had to do A LOT of biting my tongue. Granted, I recognize being a student nurse and being a staff nurse or PCT or doctor is not exactly the same. However, I do not believe that is an excuse to speak or act this way about a human being.

Now, I admit there were moments in caring for her when it was not easy. Today, I was accused of stealing her keys. A few times she expressed wanting to be alone. And so many times I just didn't know what to say to her. But my heart just ached for this woman. Here she is all alone in this hospital room, anxious as hell, all she can think about are her medications, feels like everyone hates her and that no one is listening, and frankly, does not have much going on in her life to be hopeful about. She is a mother and grandmother, but I just sensed that she hasn't felt like a useful and productive human being in a long time. At one point, she looked at me as I was holding her hand and said in a very distraught and scared voice "I will never be normal." My heart just broke into pieces.

I saw myself in that woman. I realized that as much as our life circumstances differ, humanity jointly desires significance and reassurance. The neat thing about just patiently listening and promptly answering her call lights is that she really seemed to be calmed by my presence. She learned my name quickly and would watch for me as I passed in the hall and would call out. And although this was exactly the reason so many were at the end of their rope with her, I found myself delighted to see the light come on. Granted, it did make it difficult if I was in the middle of something and in some regards took away from the time I spent doing other tasks, but that light symbolized an invitation to love. I didn't care if she begged me for more medication or asked for an endless amount of cloths or was upset about something I had nothing to do with. In every moment, I just looked into her eyes and did my best to convey that I cared. Even if it took me a few times to understand what she was saying. Even if in that moment she abruptly decided she wanted me to leave. It was worth it. Today she called out saying she needed to be changed and that she wanted "Alyssa" to do it. And it just made me smile. I didn't try and preach too much to her about how everything was going to be okay or how she should be more cooperative with treatment or any of that. But today before I left, I took her frail hand and held it in mine and said, "You are going to have to hold on a bit longer. You are beautiful. And I care about you. I love you. And God loves you." She just looked at me for awhile and gently nodded. She squeaked out a "thank you" and that proceeded to say "thank you for helping me." I gave her a little squeeze and told her how nice it was for me to meet her. As I stood up to walk out of the door, she looked at me with a slight hint of a smile and said "Drive safe."