I'm Gonna Miss This

There’s a Trace Adkins song that has been on repeat in my head.  It goes something like this…

You’re gonna miss this

You’re gonna want this back

You’re gonna wish these days hadn’t gone by so fast

These are some good times

So take a good look around

You may not know it now

But you’re gonna miss this.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lBDN8yWyNYU

This speaks to the state of my heart….EXCEPT for one thing….I do know it now.  I do know I am going to miss this.  I don’t have to be convinced of that.  So here is your warning – long sappy post ahead.  I will try and write something coherent as I am feeling all the feels.

Today is Ruby’s last day of preschool.  In just a short awhile, I will get in my car and drive the familiar route.  I will arrive (ideally) about five minutes early, enough time to park and leisurely get out of my car and walk to the gate.  I will scan the playground for a tall, bubbly girl – likely wearing a good amount of pink or purple.  When in doubt, I look at the swings or the ride-on cars, two of her favorites.  If she happens to see me, she will blush, smile, and look away.  When it is time for them to line up, she will grab her school bag, look for me, and run out to me.  I will ask how her show-and-tell was.  She may immediately come forth with this prized information.  It is more likely she will say “Not going to tell ya!” and pretend that she had a VERY BAD day at school.  She will try hard to hold her face in a frown to be extra convincing and I will happily play along.

Pick-up equates to five, maybe ten minutes total.  I have picked her up dozens of times since September.  It is a lot of the same.  We have a routine.  Nothing magical or special occurs.  But that moment when she is looking out at the crowd and our eyes meet and her delighted face….it fills my heart to the brim.   I’m gonna miss that.

I’m gonna miss having two booster seats in my car.  I used to try and clean my car more on the weekends – vacuuming up crumbs, collecting rogue wrappers, finding random pencils and hairbows and an excessive amount of glitter.  Then I kind of just let it be.  I kind of enjoyed that the back of my car was lived in and that even the messiness told stories of our time together.  Sand = Alki beach adventures.  Leaves and mud = the changing of seasons.  Chocolate on the seatbelt = a Lindor truffle incident.

I’m gonna miss watching Ruby at gymnastics….as she mastered new skills, gained confidence, decided she was too old to get the stamps at the end.  I’m gonna miss going to the elementary school to pick up Willie.  I am going to miss watching them play on the playground.  The phenomenon of losing track of where the kids have gone in less than 30 seconds.  The chit-chatting with other parents.  The joys of finding a great parking lot.  The memories of getting caught in a downpour.

I’m gonna miss our outings.  Donuts at Top Pot.  Swinging at Whale Tail.  Hot chocolate at Met Market.  Reading stories at the library.  The zip lines at Jefferson Park.  Rock collecting at the beach.  The zoo.  Playdate Seattle.  The aquarium.  The awesome playground at Seattle Center.  Finding Octavia at Trader Joe’s.  The excitement of choosing toppings at Menchie’s.

I’m gonna miss our times at the house.  Having friends over for playdates.  Baking.  Art projects.  Legos.  Clue and Uno and Chutes & Ladders and Oh Rats and Monopoly Jr.  Puzzles.  Reading stories.  ABC Mouse.  Make believe.  Scooters.  Science experiments.  Read Right.  Sticker Charts.  Homework.  Fuse beads.  Perfume making.  The routine of making lunch or preparing snacks.  The evolution of favorite TV shows and characters.  Bubble blowing.  Thanksgiving and the infamous calendar!  Playing zookeeper and police and Willie telling me “you are not going to like this – it’s violent!” 

I really could go on and on about this school year we spent together.  I was so grateful to get the job and at the time, I had no idea how the year would unfold.  I could not have anticipated the way these kids and this family would capture my heart.  I did not know it would be possible to have a job that I truly loved going to every day. 

Kip & Ellie - Thank you for the privilege and honor of watching your children.  What started out as a job quickly became so much more.  You are family.  I think I officially became family by attending Thanksgiving, but unofficially, you all accepted me as your own from the beginning.  Thank you for being such amazing bosses!  I remember you gave me a bottle of wine at the end of my first week.  You have always been so open and I feel we can talk about anything.  Thank you for always being willing to let me have days off and going above and beyond to accommodate for my traveling.  Thank you for trusting me with your most prized possessions.  Thank you for giving me autonomy and valuing my voice.  Thank you for your willingness to work as a team.  Thank you for caring about me as a person and the things happening in my life.  You are wonderful parents.  I know sometimes people assume that if a family has a nanny, the parents are disengaged and uninvolved.  I have never felt that with you.  It is so evident to me that you both play such a vital role in Ruby and Willie’s lives.  I respect you both and feel so lucky to know you and have you in my life.

Patti & Johanna – Though you started out as “the moms of Ruby’s friends,” I now consider both of you MY friends.  As we clocked time together at school pick-up’s, gymnastics class, and play dates, I began to get to know you as individuals.  Thank you for all of the times you picked up Ruby & shuttled the girls to gymnastics and had her over for playdates.  Thank you for trusting me with your own children and letting me get to know Holly and Tuula.  Thank you for being the people I could talk to about my friend being diagnosed with cancer or the process of applying to be a school nurse.  Thank you for sharing with me about your family, your parents, your dogs, your fears, your hopes.  Thank you both for supporting me in my efforts with Imani/Kenya.  You are not JUST stay-at-home moms.  You are brave!  You have stamina!  You press into the routine, the schedules, the mundane.  You chauffeur.  You cook.  You clean.  You train puppies (or give it your best effort ;). You nurture.  You rarely get a break.  I know I am not a fellow mom, but you are my “mom friends” and I am so grateful for the unexpected blessing of knowing you! 

Willie – I know that right now this may not mean something to you, but I hope one day when you are older, you will know just how much I have loved spending this year with you.  I still remember when you gave me a house tour the first time I met your family.  I see a leader developing in you.  I love that you have a strong voice and I know that you will have the opportunity to influence others. When you step up and take charge, people respect you and listen.   I see this even from the brief time I watch you interact with your peers on the playground.  I pray that you will use this strength of yours for good – that you will fight against injustice and be a voice for those who don’t have one.  I know school is a challenge for you and it is painful for me to watch you struggle.  I so desperately wanted there to be a moment where everything just clicked and made sense.  I am so proud of you every time you keep trying and persevering even when the task is difficult.  I know there are times when you are too frustrated and you give up.  I understand that.  But I also see the times that you get up and try again.  You are making so many strides.  You can read lots and lots of words now in a snap.  You have mastered many math concepts.  You have an incredible memory and ability to articulate a wide variety of facts, some that you recall from a long time ago.  You have a love of history and science and I hope you will encounter teachers, administrators, and other adults that nurture those passions.  You enjoy fishing and biking and climbing and running.  If you decide later on that you want to do sports or learn to play an instrument, wonderful.  And if not, that is okay too.  I hope you grow up knowing you can try new things, without the pressure of feeling like you have to excel at every activity.  Though sometimes it gets you into trouble, I love that you question things.  You ask why.  You persistently demand a good reason.  Keep asking questions.  Keep challenging the status quo.  Keep being a friend to all.  Choose to be a person of compassion above all else.  Thank you for making me laugh.  Thank you for reminding me to be patient and be able to see things from different vantage points.  Thank you for protecting your sister and (generally) playing very nicely with her.  I am a better person for knowing you.  I love you.

Ruby – You are my girl.  I would guess almost every one of my friends has heard me talk about you…probably multiple times.  We have spent so much time together this past year and my love for you runs deep.  I have loved baking with you.  The two of us make a good team.  Even just yesterday, I watched you crack two eggs with ease…not a single shell in the bowl.  You make me proud.  When I first met you, you had me thinking you were going to be shy.  Well, the joke’s on me!  You are bright and articulate and funny (even sarcastic!).  You are independent but still let me cuddle you on occasion.  Thank you for being a willing participant in our art endeavors – like painting with shaving cream and marbles.  Thank you for being a trooper as we got your brother every day.  Thank you for making me laugh time and time again.  You are so witty and oh how much I loved to play into your elaborate stories and jokes.  You adore animals.  Now not being an avid animal lover myself, I was surprised that your enthusiasm for animals even made me a bit mushy inside.  You love your class pets.  You love your friends’ dogs.  I loved taking you to the pet store and watching you watch the animals.  Though you don’t have any ‘real life’ pets of your own, you do have quite the collection of stuffed animals.  I try to keep up with who’s who, though it does seem that a lot of them frequently change their names!  I remember when you got your doll Ruby and how exciting that was.  Speaking of Ruby’s, I remember taking you to see my friend Laurel’s chickens, one of which is named Ruby.  We were feeding them raisins.  One of the chickens pecked your finger a bit and you cried.  But then you were brave and gave the chickens another chance.  I also think about going to feed the goats by your house and how cute that little baby goat is.  You are an agent of joy.  I don’t think there was a single day that I spent with you where you did not make me smile and laugh.  I must mention that in the first few months of being your nanny, I was a bit worried about a little habit you had of frequently saying “vagina.”  It would always catch me off guard – this cute little preschooler, generally sweet and kind and considerate and a rule-follower…..and then you would throw out the V-word!  It makes me smile now, as it was indeed a phase and I honestly cannot even think of the last time you said it.  But let me tell you, there was nothing in my 13+ years of childcare experience that adequately prepared me for that!!  We have gotten into a nice rhythm you and I.  I can pretty much guess what you want for lunch without asking.  I know you just eat the frosting off of donuts.  You have a big sweet tooth like me!  You will spend hours coloring or doing puzzles or earning tickets on ABC Mouse.  You can be a bit shy with new people, but you warm up rather quickly.  I love your wardrobe – some of my current favorites are your cat pants and that purple/green/black poufy skirt.  I love watching you work on the “worm bed” at the playground and doing flips on the slide.  I love when you parrot things I have previously said, like “not gonna cry about it.”  I love playing into your humor.  You are smart.  You are kind.  You are beautiful.  You care so much about your family and friends.  You are learning to compromise and problem solve and stand up for yourself.  You really have blossomed over the course of the year; you aren’t the same girl I met in August!  I look forward to watching you grow up, as you find your passions and your niche.  You are the best job I ever had.  I love you times infinity.

How lucky am I to have loved and been loved so much.

I’m gonna miss this.

Progress is Not Linear

I willingly made and ate oatmeal several times.
 And I still dislike it....

“Progress is not linear.”  I believe that.  I have experienced that.  I have seen it to be true in other peoples’ lives.  I am living that. 

This past month, I have eliminated the majority of added sugar in my diet.  I was not overly strict about it and I did not limit fruit or most dairy items.  But I did successfully stay away from all the treats – cake, cookies, chocolate, ice cream, donuts, sugary coffee drinks and cocktails.  I also made some substitutions, like instead of vanilla or key lime yogurt, I had nonfat, plain yogurt.  This was not always easy.  It revealed how much my social life intersects with food and that sometimes making good choices consequently causes other people to experience guilt and shame.  When I would take the kids I nanny to get ice cream, quite frankly, it was not fun to sit and watch them eat it.  And yet, I was surprised how it was not nearly as hard as I thought.  I did not dream about sweet treats or feel the need to have a cheat day.  While making this diet and lifestyle change has not magically transformed my body or melted pounds away, it is a good step toward the healthy life I desire to have.

Evaluating progress is difficult for people like me who tend to view things with an “all-or-nothing” mindset.  I see these self-sabotaging behaviors in myself.  For example, one evening at the gym, I decided to get a smoothie from the gym smoothie bar.  I looked at the different options and picked one that listed various fruits, whey protein powder, and added some greens.  As I took the first sip, I immediately thought “this is too sweet – there must be additional sugar in here.”  At that point, it was too late and I drank it anyway.  Initially, I was upset that I had consumed all this sugar without even intending to.  But then I decided to let myself off the hook.  Drinking that smoothie was not going to harm me (especially given how much sugar I used to eat on a regular basis without thinking twice about it!).  I was still valuing my health by trying to make a healthy, informed decision and this did not mean I couldn’t continue to strive to eliminate sugar.

Another area that I am learning to have grace with myself is with anxiety and worry.  About 6 years ago, I began struggling with anxiety and panic attacks.  At first, I thought that with the right resources in place, I could get a handle on it.  I assumed that once I began counseling or found the right medication combination, I would get progressively better.  That is not what happened.  Things became a lot worse before they got better.  Even then, the “getting better” was not a nice arrow up.  It was more of a curvy, wavy line that kinked in a few spots, but on the whole, was inching upward.  It took many different counseling experiences, visits to various healthcare providers, tinkering with medications (and ultimately, no medication at all), and a lot of patience, grace, and support from family and friends.  Today, I am a lot better.  It is night and day from where I was, and yet I even now, I go to counseling.  Even now, I have days that feel completely overwhelming and out-of-control.  But I have learned that one panic attack or one difficult day does not erase all the steps that have brought me to this better place.

If you are struggling through something, take heart.  Give yourself credit where credit is do.  For the places that you still have a ways to go, let yourself take baby steps.  I have this new practice where at the end of the week, I write down things I am proud of and areas where I have been brave.  That is how I give myself a pep talk to tackle the week ahead.  Maybe I did not do everything I had intended to do.  Maybe I did not make it to the gym the three times I had hoped.  Maybe I missed someone’s birthday or was late responding to a pressing email.  Maybe the laundry is still sitting in the dirty pile on the floor and my car remains unwashed.  But at least for a few moments, I force myself to look at what I was able to do.  I sent out Mother’s Day cards to a lot of incredible women.  I spoke my truth to a friend, even though it was really difficult.  I went to the gym two times and cooked dinner more times than not.  I spent time catching up with a friend who I haven’t talked to in awhile.  I finally wrote a new blog J

Hang in there.  Slowly but surely, you are making progress, my friend, and that is something to be proud of.

Christmas in the Midst of Chaos

It's true.  I love Christmas.  Pretty much all things Christmas.  I am a strong advocate for decorations, and putting your tree up as soon a possible in order to maximize the number of days you get to plug it in and marvel at its beauty....the twinkling lights, the nostalgia of ornaments, the pine tree smell.  I love that baking becomes 110% acceptable the whole month of December.  It's December 9?  Okay, let's bake some cookies!  I love cozying up with a blanket and cup of coffee with a book or a journal.  I love holiday movies and specials, and making crafts and cards.  I love giving gifts and wrapping presents, and those rare moments when you remember EXACTLY the perfect gift to get someone....something you happened across months before, and just happened to remember at just the right time.  I love that the frequency of mail increases, and that even the most digital, technology-forward people will buy postage stamps and send out Christmas cards.

And yet, there is still this underlying reality of our fallen, broken world that even the tastiest cookies and best Christmas music cannot overcome.  I watch a close friend grieve the death of her mom.  I catch just thirty minutes of news at the gym, and can hardly believe this is the world we live in.  My heart breaks for all the people in the hospital, as their loves ones just live moment by moment, a few stories I know, and so many that I do not.  I reflect on my own struggles, a recent recurrence of anxiety, and wondering where I will find the strength and courage to face this reality once more.

My solace and hope has come from observing Advent, and being loved and known by my people.  Advent is a time of preparation, and has been such a fruitful and grounding experience for me.  A daily exercise is reminding myself that this life is not my own, and that my hope cannot be in this world, as it will fail me every time.  To recognize God's orchestration and His coming to dwell among us, and to marvel at the work of His hand, His timing, and His faithfulness.

This passage from Waiting Here for You: An Advent Journey of Hope, resonated with me:

"All of us are waiting n something, often wondering if God has forgotten us.  In your waiting, let the birth of Christ encourage you.  Just because God hasn't come through (as far as you can see), it doesn't mean He has abandoned you.  To Him a day is like a thousand years and a thousand years are like a day.  This very minute He's working for His glory and for your good.  Though circumstances say otherwise, God is going to come through, on schedule, fulfilling His long-appointed plans for you.  Don't give up before the time is right."

I ask myself, where do these two intersect?  Can I have both - the childlike, lightheaded celebration and wonder and awe that is Christmas, with the current state of affairs in my small community, as well as the global one?  I say yes.  I say yes, because Christ came to Earth exactly for the things that break my heart, and it is still worth celebrating, even two thousand years later.  Sure, there are many new traditions that have nothing to do with the birth of Christ, but getting caught up in legalism seems the worst way to celebrate, and the best way to suck joy and life from the spaces you occupy.

The older I get, the more I cherish this time of year versus Christmas day.  It is not about presents anymore.  It's the time of year when you see a post on Facebook about sending Christmas cards to an 8-year-old girl who was the sole survivor of arson.  It's when you make it a point to bring people together - whether to bake cookies or have a party or exchange gifts.  It's a time to reconnect and to reminisce.  It's about going home, or making a home in exactly the place you are in.  It's a time when there just seems to be some extra I love you's floating about, and a little more compassion.

It's not perfect, and it doesn't always bring out the best in us. I know many people dread this time of year.  But take heart, and don't give up before the time is right.  People living before the coming of Christ waited hundreds of years in great anticipation for His coming.  Maybe this year say no to a few more things, so that you can enjoy the things you say yes to.  Give something to someone you ordinarily would not.  Send a few cards.  Bake some cookies.  Light your favorite candle.  Drive by some lights.  Focus on being present.

May God be near to you this Christmas.

With Love,
Alyssa

Embracing the Seasons

I am overdue for a blog post.  There's nothing like a rainy, blustery day to put on some music and curl up on the couch to write.  It is one of the many blessings of this season of life.  I have every Friday off.  How great is that?  It's not even 10 o'clock and I have whipped up some sugar cookie dough for some fall cookie decorating later with friends.  I have already grabbed myself a nonfat latte, and went to the grocery store.  Not bad, not bad.

If you have had a conversation with me in the past few months, I have probably used the word season numerous times.  Talking about this present season, past seasons, the changing of the seasons to come.  I find a lot of comfort in the entire concept that surrounds seasons.  I love that anticipation of the seasons to come.  I love the memories of seasons that have passed.  And probably most of all, I love that seasons are temporary, but they cycle.  They leave you, but they come back.  Not quite in the same way, but they are not gone forever.  (Although if you live in California, it does seem like summer is lasting forever!!)

I had dinner with a friend of a friend last night.  It was a wonderful unexpected surprise - I got an email from her on Sunday, where she explained she had recently gotten together with my friend, Lindsey.  She wrote:

When she shared about you and your story, I though that I had to meet you.

For me, there really is no higher praise.  I was touched and eager to meet this individual.  And so last night, we exchanged stories over gourmet pizza and bananas foster.  We talked and talked and talked.  We laughed.  We shared the deepest parts of our hearts.  And then as we walked out of the restaurant, we both expressed we knew this was only the beginning.  As I sent my signature "post-hang out text," she replied: I am glad our paths finally collided.

Something came alive in me last night.  Revisiting the past of how Imani came to be, how God has really been doing something big within my heart for a long time....suddenly, the place I am in now (recently quitting my nursing job, moving back to Seattle, nannying again, trying to figure out exactly what I am supposed to be doing)....it didn't seem strange at all.  It seemed predictable.  I found myself thinking, Well of course I left my nursing job.  In nursing school, I questioned whether nursing was the right fit for me, but I continued on because that was the plan.  It was the only plan.  I didn't have a plan B.  There was so much freedom in realizing I am being more true to myself in this season than I have ever been in my life.

She reminded me that who I am is not limited to a nurse, or someone who started a nonprofit.  Those are parts of me, yes, but I am so much more, and to give space and time and energy to those hibernating parts of me is life-giving.  What are the things that I love?  What energizes me?  What do I want to learn?  How do I use the things I am passionate about to love and serve others?  This season is all about answering those questions, and living in spite of knowing all the answers.  Of giving myself permission to not know.

7 Things I Love About Fall

1. The leaves changing on the trees.  We have a big, beautiful tree right in front of our house, and every day, I marvel at the vibrant colors.

2. Cozy.  Cozy everything.  Getting cozy with Ruby watching Inside Out.  Cozy clothes and blankets and making cozy spaces.

3. The crisp air in the morning.

4. Hot beverages.  Okay, let's be honest, I can't remember the last time I ordered a cold beverage....I'm just a hot drink kind of girl.  But they seem to be aplenty during the fall.  And just for the record, I think Pumpkin Spice Lattes are gross.

5. Baking.  Especially things like Harvest Loaf Cake or cookies to put in care packages.

6. Harvest of Hope.  Yes, it is probably the reason my hair is falling out, but I am really excited for it.  I love that Imani events have the feeling of a reunion, a wonderful celebration that brings people together.

7. The decorations.  I am not a big Halloween person, but I do love fall decor.  Pumpkins, leaves, wreaths, candles - yes, please!!

Happy Fall!!

Anxiety.

I thought about various other titles - ones that were not quite as straightforward, ones that seemed to sugarcoat the topic a bit.  But there it is.  Anxiety.  This post is about anxiety, and I do want to give into the guilt about writing that.

It always seemed a bit much to share on the Internet.  The last thing I wanted was more people who meant well, giving me advice via the comment section.  There is something about typing out a thought that makes us think we can say anything, without considering the consequences.  We don't have to see or hear how people on the receiving end react, and as a result, our words can come across in a million ways other than how we intended.

But if we can share our ultrasound pictures, news of a cancer diagnosis, the things that make us laugh, cry, smile, and get angry for all to see, then perhaps this story has a place too.  I am tired of the lie that you must have your life completely together, and that anything less is shameful.  I wish people reacted to mental illness in the same way they react to other illnesses, with prayers, with support, with GoFundMe accounts, with T-shirts.  That would be the true sign that the stigma has been lifted.  We still have a ways to go.

Some of you may be thinking, what is she even talking about??  I want to share a little bit about my own struggles, in the hopes that maybe someone out there needs to hear this.  That maybe someone else can read this and say to themselves, I thought I was the only one.  My friend, you are not alone.  I know that does not fix the problem, and yes, the road is painful and ridden with obstacles.  But there is hope.

When I was in college, I began to have panic attacks.  At first, I did not really know what was going on, and just attributed it to stress.  I attempted to get more sleep, exercise more, and decrease stress levels as best as I could, but my efforts were in vain.  The panic attacks intensified in frequency and quality, to the point where it became difficult to function in the most basic sense.  With the encouragement of a friend, I sought out both medical and psychological help.  Without going into the many details, the three years that followed were incredibly difficult.

I began counseling.  I had a counselor tell me that I was "hurting her heart" and she started crying during the session.  I got a new counselor.  Then it was summer so I had to get another one.  I ended up seeing 5 different individuals, each time having to start at square one, telling my story again, trying to build trust and rapport.  

Therapy alone was not helping the symptoms.  I was having panic attacks almost daily.  Performing basic tasks, like going to class or eating a meal, was becoming difficult, and the people around me were frightened and concerned.  I made the difficult decision to start medication, though I knew it would take weeks to even know if it was effective, and worse, knowing it may get worse before it gets better.  It took about 2 years to find the right drug combination that helped more than it hurt.

As the weeks turned into months, my anxiety gave way to depression.  Constantly feeling like the world was crumbling apart, night after night of panic attacks - the hyperventilating, the chest pain, the nausea, the crippling fears, the thoughts in my head telling me I was not worth it and People would be better off without me.  Eventually, I started cutting - as a physical release of the deep emotional pain.  I was becoming the person I read about in my psychology book.  I was becoming the person I just could never before understand.  I was hitting rock bottom.

In the midst of all this, I was in nursing school.  In a lot of ways, life continued on - just a double life that became almost normal.  It was an awful normal, but somehow, day after day, I trudged along.  I owe a lot of that to my friends.  Patient, loving, grace-filled friends who did not know what to do for me other than love me and be there.  It is hard to express my gratitude to those people who were there, sacrificing their own emotional energy, sleep, study time, to ensure my safety.  To ensure that I had just enough hope to propel me to the next morning.

This is the reality of mental illness.  I never thought it would be me.  Never.  And then it came into my life, and turned my world upside down.  Everything changed.

I really cannot exactly pinpoint how things got better.  It was multi-faceted, what I believe to be a combination of finishing nursing school, starting Imani, getting on medications that helped, and finding a therapist who was really good at what she did.  And the answer to the prayers of many people over a long period of time.  Over time, I no longer needed therapy or medication to function, though I know they are still available should I need them again.  I used to have so much shame about that - being on psych meds, going to therapy.  But it is the reality.  And if I ever hope to see a world without stigma, then I must do my part in being honest and open too.

Things are a lot better three years later, and I am grateful that anxiety is not a part of my daily life.  Yet it is still something I struggle with.  It did not magically disappear, and I still have to face the monster.  Sharing my story has helped.  I still have issues with guilt and shame, but each time I share about it, I take away some of their power.

For whoever needs to hear this, it is okay to not be okay.  It is okay to struggle, even if it has been the same struggle for a long time.  It does not define who you are, but it does shape who you are becoming.  God can redeem it to be a beautiful part of your story.

Waves & Wonderings

I have lost count the number of times I have tried to write this blog.  Normally, I have so much to say, to the point where I mentally write out passages to later transfer to a page.  But I find myself frustrated that I have very little to say.  It is not that things haven’t been happening, or that I am not having a great time here in Kenya.  Yet, this trip is different.  The sights, the sounds, the people – so much is becoming familiar.  In fact, when I share with people that I have been to Kenya five times now, a common response is “now you are a Kenyan.”  Of course, that is pretty far from the truth, but maybe it does shed some light on a transition that is happening.  I think maybe I am transitioning into something new.  I no longer feel like a tourist, and just “seeing” a bunch of things no longer is enough.  I long for deepened relationships.  I long to be part of the solution, and not just another person witnessing the slums.  I want so badly to truly know and understand this community, yet I don’t feel that I am supposed to move here.  It feels a lot like limbo, the in-between.

At the risk of sounding prestigious, it was difficult for me to come to the coast for vacation.  I am not anti-vacation, and going to the coast in California has always been a relaxing and rejuvenating time.  But the sudden change of scenery – from walking through one of the world’s largest slums on Monday, to arriving at a beautiful, oceanfront resort on Tuesday was confusing.  I keep replaying questions in my head – Is this okay?  What would my Kenyans friends think?  Is spending money on massages and snorkeling selfish, when it could be invested in fighting poverty?  If I am enjoying myself, does that mean I don’t care?  I keep thinking – why is it so hard to go back and forth and seemingly effortless when I am at home?  Maybe it is because when I physically come to Kenya, I see my purpose as living out the mission of Imani.  Restore hope through health.  It is difficult to see how sitting here on the beach is fulfilling that mission.

Then I gaze out into the ocean.  Tears welling up in my eyes.  My only response is to say “God I feel you.”  The ocean does that for me.  The crashing waves into the shore.  Over and over again.  Day and night.  Sun and storm.  When I am awake to stare at it in awe, and when I am asleep.  I have struggled with guilt my whole life.  Guilt and shame.  And somehow even in this beautiful, calm, heaven-like place, the emotions that have plagued me over and over strike again. 

The ocean is frightening and inspiring.  Powerful, yet calm.  Intimidating, yet inviting.  Similar to my Heavenly Father, the one who gives and takes away, the author and creator, the beginning and the end.  I think when I am here, in Kenya, I expect to feel a certain way.  To respond to encounters in a certain way.  There is this expectation that the experience is going to be life-changing, the way it has been in the past and some.  That’s a lot of pressure for a trip.  I keep asking, God, what is it that I am supposed to take away from this?  Well, that is the mature version – the questioning normally sounds more like why is this sad thing not making me cry?  Why don’t I have a collection of dramatic and amazing tales to share?  And then I hear myself.  And I question why am I insisting on making this all about me?

I am reading this book about the life of Jesus, and the author is quick to point out the historical and Biblical evidence of his humanity.  He says it much better than this, but in essence – Jesus walked, talked, slept, ate, learned, cried, laughed, got sick, etc.  I guess I have not spent a lot of time thinking about Jesus doing very ordinary things.  I tend to think of Jesus’ life as being one of performing miracles – healing the sick, giving sight to the blind, turning water into wine, multiplying the fish and the bread.  And yet, more than likely, the majority of Jesus’ life was nothing special (at least by our standards).  It was rather ordinary, mundane even.  But it mattered.  There were seasons to his existence, in the same way there are seasons in my own life.

So as the sun sets, and the waves roar on, I thank God for these quiet moments, these ordinary but precious days, and the chance to be still.  To sleep.  To eat.  To laugh.  To gaze.  To stand in wonder and awe.  To watch the tide go out and come back again.  All before my life drastically changes.  These are the days the Lord has made, full of moments – some miraculous, some mundane, but all full of meaning.

Lord, help me to be still and know you are God.

Pushing the Mountains

It's challenging to adequately sum up my experiences thus far in Kenya.  Sure, I can post photos, and tell short anecdotes, but there is just something about being here.  Being with the people.  Laughing together.  Learning from each other.  Sharing a meal.  Hearing stories.  And dreaming big.

Today, Laura and I walked all around Kibera.  You may have heard of Kibera.  It is one of the largest slums - definitely in Africa, and potentially in the entire world.  It is hard to get an exact number of the population, but those living and working there say it is close to 1.5 million people living in around 2.5 square kilometers.  When I was seeking out potential new partner clinics for Imani last year, I did not necessarily have any preference in terms of what slum they operated in.  I was more focused on finding a partner that was passionate about the community they served, provided health services, and was Kenyan born and raised.  I found that in Andrew, and in our partner, Makina Clinic.

Walking around with Andrew is kind of like walking alongside a celebrity.  He knows everyone.  He phone is always ringing.  He speaks to people in their mother tongue, as he knows 7 languages.  I told Laura it was like walking around the slum with Jesus - Andrew's heart for people is so big, and even though he had many opportunities to get out of Kibera, where he was born, he continues to stay and invest.  He is a dreamer, and hearing his passion and vision is contagious.

Today, he said "We (Kenyans) are stubborn.  We push the mountains."

He followed that up with "Alyssa....she is stubborn too."

Pushing the mountains.  What a great picture of what it feels like sometimes - trying to address such monumental issues, sometimes feeling that your efforts carry little to no weight.  There are times I do get discouraged - like when I heard about a cholera outbreak that occurred just a few weeks before I was to come to Kenya.  I felt helpless and defeated.  Sure, you can treat cholera.  With extensive fluid resuscitation, cholera does not have to be a death sentence.  Yet the epidemiology of cholera - where it came from - those issues are much more complicated to address.  Lack of clean water.  High population density.  Little to no sanitation system.  Families of 10 living in a small room.  How can one even begin to address these facts?  How can a small non-profit run by volunteers make a difference?

But I thank God for days like today.  Days were I am refueled, re-energized, and ready to fight.  To dream.  To push the mountain.  I refuse to believe that the situation is hopeless.  Just because I cannot help everyone does not mean I should walk away from the opportunity to help someone.  People matter.  One child rescued from being abandoned in the sewer matters.  One young woman who grew up in the slums, witnessed the horrors of Garissa, and is pursuing nursing matters.  One young man who used to rob people at gunpoint who now helps children with their homework matters.  One widow who now takes ARVs and encourages others to do the same matters.  And supporting those who are here, on the ground, doing this work, is a privilege and an honor.

So I will press on, as I continue to day-by-day discern the calling that God has placed on my life.  I won't give up.  I will push mountains.