Some days, my heart aches for Kenya more than others. After spending some time last night looking up some videos of Kenya and the slums, I woke up this morning with a strong sense that I live a very privileged life. For the most part, I have moved past the guilt of this; it is an incredible blessing. In Luke 12:48, it says to whom much is given, much will be expected.
I cannot live in ignorance - I believe I have a responsibility to use my resources and my sphere of influence to care for others. Imani is a big part of that, but really I want all aspects of my life to reflect my desire to love, serve, and care for others, just as Jesus did throughout the New Testament and continues to do today.
I write this to shed light into some of my thoughts and experiences this morning.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
I woke up to an alarm, got dressed, and went to "work out" in the fitness room at my apartment complex. My life is so convenient so sedentary, that I must make time to be active, to exercise. I do this in an air-conditioned room on electronic equipment while watching the news on a flat screen TV.
After my cardio, I cool off in the pool. We have huge tanks of water that we use for recreation - water that is likely cleaner than the water most people in the slums drink. This water is in addition to the water we use to cook, to bathe, to drink, to water our plants, wash our cars, etc.
I head back to my apartment and look through a pile of clean clothes to decide what to wear. I have so many clothes that I must make a choice. I have so many clothes that I do not have enough hangers to hang it all in the closet when it is all clean. I have so many clothes that I can put off doing laundry for several weeks at a time.
My car is dirty so on the way to the dentist, I take it through a drive-thru car wash. I have a car. I am a female and I have a driver's license and a car. In less than 5 minutes without even getting out of my vehicle, I have a clean car. I drive on paved-roads, so my car will stay relatively clean.
I get my teeth cleaned at my biannual dentist appointment. I have seen a dentist twice a year for the majority of my life. I have dental benefits provided by my employer. I not only have somewhere to go when something about my teeth is bothering me, but I receive preventative care (cleanings) every 6 months. I have all my teeth.
Feeling a bit hungry, I stop for a cup of coffee and muffin to go. I can afford food. I can choose where I would like to eat. I can decide what I would like to eat. I can spend $4 on a "snack". There was no labor involved in obtaining this food.
I stop at the bank to deposit a check. I have a bank account. I have money to put into the bank account. I could take out money from this account if I needed to. If an unexpected cost came up, I would have the funds to cover it.
Next stop, get the oil changed on my car. Again, I have a car that runs. I can afford to take it in to get regular maintenance. While I wait, I drink my coffee and send text messages on my cell phone. (substitute tea and this would be typical in Kenya as well - everyone seems to have cell phones, even in the slums). I am in no hurry, as this is one of my days off. Since I work a non-conventional schedule, I have an average of 4 "days off" every week.
I drive back to my apartment. I have a home. I have a roof over my head, a bed to sleep in, electricity, running water, heating & AC (that I barely use, but I do have it). I have space - my 2 bedroom apartment I share with my sister is probably the size of a dozen homes in the slum. I have no fear of being evicted.
All this before noon.
That being said, I am in the richest 10% of people on the planet. Today, I am counting my blessings.
I sometimes wonder how long God will keep me on this Earth, as at the age of 23, I have been incredibly blessed to have the opportunity to do many of the things I have always dreamed of. I have wanted to be a nurse for a long time, officially at the age of 14, but unofficially even before. I have always dreamed of traveling and doing something to help people in other countries. And I wanted to be a writer, an author....which is perhaps why I continue to cherish the moments I have to blog. Though a complete amateur, I find it to be much easier to write to an audience - even if that audience is only hypothetical. And so I write, if nothing else, to have the lasting memory of what I was feeling, thinking, processing, mourning, dreaming at various points in time.
When I think back to a year ago, it feels more like years than a mere 12 months. I remember the day I received the paper from the state of California telling me that Imani Care International was incorporated. Aka - there was an organization that I had created that now existed. Just because it existed really didn't mean anything aside from there being a public record on file. But to me, it was everything. It was terrifying, yes. I did not want to fail. I did not want to tell people I had started a charity and then 6 month later, watch the whole thing fall apart (or worse, never even build something to have fall apart). Yet there were 2 specific voices that equated to me having the courage to face my fears and pouring myself into Imani. God. And my dad.
I find it significant that they are both fathers - one Heavenly, one Earthly. There are just a handful of life-changing decisions I have had to make in my life thus far. The two that specifically come to mind are deciding where to go to college and deciding to start a non-profit. I knew I was supposed to go to Seattle Pacific University because I had wanted to go to Point Loma so bad. I just thought everything about Point Loma was perfect - a good nursing program, a smaller, private school, a beautiful campus right on the beach, the best weather, still within the state of California and visiting distance, and a substantial scholarship. I only went to visit Seattle because my parents thought it was a good idea and I thought it would be a good chance to reinforce my decision to go to Point Loma. And then....as I stepped off of the plane in Seattle, I knew. I cannot exactly describe it in words....it had been raining but in that moment, the clouds had cleared a little bit and the sun was glimmering through as it was setting. And I just had this all-consuming peace that only comes from God that this was going to be my home for the next 4 years.
It was a similar experience with Imani. Once I had returned from Kenya and was getting ready to start senior year, I was convinced that conventional nursing was not for me, and that somehow I was just going to move halfway across the world and be a nurse. I was so set on this that I really didn't apply to very many jobs. I didn't want to "get stuck." Yet deep in my heart, God was nudging me and kept pointing out the few "hiccups" in my plan. First, he questioned some of the logistics. So where are you going to live? How will you pay for food and clothes and transportation? What about the language barrier? Will you keep renewing your Visa or will you try to become a resident? Will your nursing license even be valid over there? Although they were all valid questions to which I did not have a good answer, it wasn't until I heard God say, Alyssa, they don't need another set of hands. What they really need is someone to tell their story, someone to pray for them and encourage them, and someone to secure more resources. Ouch! They didn't need a nurse - they needed a partner, an advocate, a friend.
At first, I didn't really know what to do with this realization. Suddenly, being a nurse in a slum clinic in Kenya seemed incredibly selfish. I knew other people probably would not see it that way, but deep within my heart, I knew if I took that course of action, on some level, I would be pursuing a selfish desire. The idea of starting an organization did not come immediately....it just kind of trickled its way in. Every now and again I would think well maybe if there was a charity that could help the clinic.....so I searched for "that charity." I couldn't find it. Sure, there were countless non-profit organizations out there, but they all had some sort of limitation. And then the thought came...well maybe I need to start my own organization. I wish I had more memory on my phone so I could go back and find the day that I sent this text message, but I know it was some time in the first half of May 2012. This was the paraphrased dialogue.
Alyssa: "On a scale of 1 - 10, which 10 being extremely difficult, how hard is it to start a non-profit organization?"
Dad: "8, if you do it right."
Though there are many times in my life where I wanted my dad to be less matter of fact and more endearing, this was not one of those times. I did not text my best friends or my mom or my sister. I knew that there was one person I needed to ask, and I knew it had to be my dad. I did not want to ask him, because I knew he would tell me the truth. I feared he would say "10" and then proceed to tell me all the reason why that was not a good idea or why it would never work.
Dad, I will never be able to thank you enough for that text message. Yes, it was brief and to the point, but it said so much. It said that it wasn't impossible. It said you would ensure that if I did anything, it would be done right. And it said that you weren't going to talk me out of it.
That's really all I needed to hear. Within weeks, I was contacting attorneys, looking up everything I could find about starting an organization, and laughing at how crazy the whole notion was - especially in the midst of finals, studying for NCLEX, graduating college, and moving. But I knew I had at least two people in my corner. God, who had lead me to this crazy adventure in the first place, and my dad, who had confirmed that yes it would take a lot of hard work, dedication, time, and money, but that I could do it and he would support me through the process.
So as Imani celebrates its first year, I want to extend my eternal gratitude to God and to my dad. Without them, Imani Care International would not exist.
