Letter to Imani

April 27, 2015

Dear Imani Family,

I want to share some upcoming changes that will be taking place in my life, and how those will affect Imani Care International.  After months of deliberation, considering pro’s & con’s, prayer, and seeking the wisdom of others, I have made the decision to relocate to Seattle, WA.  (I previously lived in Seattle from 2008-2012 while I attended university.)  There are a number of reasons behind this decision, but ultimately, it came down to choosing the place I felt would allow me to best pursue my passions, re-prioritize, and live amongst a community in a similar life stage.  I have given notice at work, and my last day at Valley Children’s will be June 1.  I will then travel to Nairobi, Kenya, and as I will not be employed at the time, I am taking advantage of the opportunity to spend 6 weeks there.  As we partner with three clinics, having a few extra weeks than originally planned in-country will allow me to spend ample time with each clinic.  I will return to Fresno at the end of July, and physically move to Seattle sometime at the beginning of August.

What does this mean for Imani?  There are still many unknowns, but I can assure you that Imani is not going anywhere.  It will continue to operate as a tax-exempt, charitable organization in the state of California.  Eventually, I would like to pursue adding Washington as a state of operation, but Imani’s home base will remain California.  The board of directors will continue to physically meet through the end of 2015.  In 2016, board meetings will likely be a combination of conference calls, Skype, and meeting in person.  We will still have our annual event, Harvest of Hope, as planned this fall.  It will be on Saturday, November 14 at the Clovis Veteran’s Memorial Building.  Our mailing address will continue to be our P.O. Box in Clovis.

It is my hope that this move will eventually allow me to spend more of my time and energy on Imani.  It has become increasingly difficult for me to work full-time night shifts at the hospital while running a non-profit.  I will continue to work for profit outside of Imani, but hopefully, I will have the opportunity to work fewer hours in a less demanding position.  I would love to see Imani continue to flourish and grow, and expand our community in the Seattle area.  I look forward to being in a city that is a hub for global health, and provides many networking opportunities.

I so appreciate your encouragement and prayers during this season of change.  As with most major decisions, it is bittersweet.  It will be difficult to leave my job, and to leave the security of the life I currently live in California.  I am more than willing to answer any questions or curiosities you may have.

Thank you for your continued support of Imani.  What started as a crazy dream has grown to be a thriving organization that is impacting the lives of those living in the slums of Nairobi.  I look forward to sharing with you after I return from Kenya this summer.

Blessings & Gratitude,

Alyssa Singh

Executive Director, Imani Care International

Bittersweet

Bittersweet.  I think it is fitting that this is not only the title of my favorite book, but also the only word that seems to even begin to capture the expanse of emotions I am wading through.  There is joy and excitement and anticipation….for new adventures, for reunions with friends, for the prospect of something new.  The chance to take my hand of cards, return them to the deck, shuffle, and see what the new hand will be.  Of course, this is scary, too.  The unknown, the questions I have no answers to, the risk factor.  Yet I must take this step of faith.  Because of this:

It’s not hard to decide what you want your life to be about.  What’s hard, she said, is figuring out what you’re willing to give up in order to do the things you really care about.

–from Bittersweet, by Shauna Niequist

So what am I even talking about, you may be asking yourself.  Well, here’s the short version:

I am moving back to Seattle.  I am going to leave my current nursing job on June 1, move out of my apartment, spend 6 weeks in Kenya, and then physically move to Seattle. 

What the short version leaves out is the long process of coming to that decision.  The weighing of the pro’s and con’s.  The roller coaster of emotions.  Searching for the courage to face my fears and take a chance, without knowing all the details.  Trusting that God has a plan, even if I cannot see it.  The pre-mature mourning of leaving my work family and the security of having a good job with a comfortable income.  The prospect of once again being able to share daily life with friends who are in a similar life stage.  The hope of being able to give Imani more time and energy.  The sadness of leaving my family, when being near to them has been such a blessing the past few years. 

When I made a pro/con list back in January, I listed everything I could possibly think of.  In the end, it was dead even.  A tie.  Completely neutral.  I kept praying for God to give me a sign, to show me the way, to slam one door in my face and fling another wide open.  Instead, I got to the crossroads, with two paths to choose from, and the sense that I got to choose.  That this was not a right versus wrong type of decision.  I had to decide which path I wanted to take, and trust that God would continue to work in my life either way.  It was tempting to just surrender, and decide to stay put.  To not chance it.  Why give something up when there was no guarantee that things will be better somewhere else? 

It came back to this – what’s hard is figuring out what you’re willing to give up in order to do the things you really care about. 

The things that I really care about: authentic, deep relationships; Imani and Kenya and the slums; being a part of a community; caring for other people; loving people as Christ loved us; having people over and feeding them; writing; children; travelling.

What am I willing to give up to build my life upon that foundation?  Are the things I really care about where I am currently investing the majority of my time, my skills, and my resources?  I think the most honest answer was “kind of.”  Sure, I occasionally have people over for dinner.  I spend a lot of time on Imani on my days off.  My job allows for a lot of care-giving and opportunities to show love.  Yet I also spend a lot time recovering.  A lot of time “vegging” because of the constant stress, flip-flopping of schedules, lack of sleep, and juggling two jobs.  A lot of working stretches with few days off in between in anticipation of a trip or event.  Not a lot of balance.  More of a go-go-go, crash, go-go-go, crash.  I want the ebb and flow of my life to be less tumultuous. 

Moving to Seattle is not going to change the pace of my life.  It will not magically have less stressors, or change my desire to want to push the limits.  But the act of moving, the act of relocating is kind of like a reset button.  A chance to start over a little bit – to bring forward some pots that have been on the back burner long enough.  To rearrange.  To re-prioritize.  I think it is the perfect time for this….my roots are not so deeply embedded that I cannot be transplanted. 

As the fear and anxiety creep in, I must remember the words I have heard many times in the past months: this does not have to be forever, and “you can always come back.”

I am so grateful for the almost 3 years of being back in California post-college.  I have gotten to live with and spend so much quality time with my parents and my sister.  I have worked at an amazing place with an incredible group of co-workers.  I got to start Imani, and watch it flourish and grow in ways I never expected.  And if those things were not enough, I got to travel and go on many adventures.  I do not take any of that for granted.    

So I will smile, and I will cry.  I will laugh, and I will get scared.  There will be celebration, and there will be mourning.  There will be joy, and there will be sadness.  I will embrace the bittersweet nature of this time.

Bittersweet is the idea that in all things there is both something broken and something beautiful, that there is a sliver of lightness on even the darkest of nights, a shadow of hope in every heartbreak, and that rejoicing is no less rich when it contains a splinter of sadness.

                                                                       –from Bittersweet, by Shauna Niequist