Take My Hand

Sometimes the most calming, rejuvenating thing that I can do in the midst of a stressful time is to write.  It's one of those things you tend to put on the bottom of the priority list.  In my recent flurry of list-making, I was hesitant to even put "write a blog post" on there, as I knew there were plenty of more pressing tasks.  Yet I also knew myself enough to know the act of putting words together is incredibly therapeutic for me.  It is my sanctuary, my purposeful act of slowing down, of taking out a moment to view things from a different angle.

This has been a crazy time of life.  Weddings, trips out of town, long stretches of work followed by long stretches off.  And a lot of preparation for Harvest of Hope, the upcoming Imani fundraiser dinner event that I have been planning since February.  Though it has been a labor of love, trying to essentially do 2 full time jobs is taking its toll.  I have been frazzled, stressed, scatterbrained, distracted, tired, but not able (or willing) to sleep with so many unfinished tasks.  My mind is constantly racing - problem solving, evaluating, prioritizing, delegated, all to ensure this event is a success.  But what does success look like?  At the end of the evening, what really matters? 

I won't go into the whole story of how Imani came to be, but it really is an incredible act of God's hand in my life.  It was not what I had dreamed for myself, and not even something I wanted to do.  Yet it was exactly what I needed to do, and now I really cannot imagine not living the life that I do.  Still, I do a whole lot of emailing, planning, meeting, brainstorming, communicating, banking, fundraising, etc. because I really believe that the health and the well-being of the people living in the slums in Kenya matters.  Those few weeks out of the year I get to spend over there have changed my life.  I can never go back to life before falling in love with Kenya, and I never want to.  Just thinking about sharing a little bit of that with a room full of people makes me teary-eyed.  Though our lives are completely different, the human connection is so powerful.

This photo, in the very literal sense, is me holding the hand of a little boy who I met as we were walking through Mukuru kwa Njenga.  He was following me around, and although we could not communicate in words, I reached out my hand so he could hold it.  And that is how we walked around, hand in hand.  I do not know his name.  I don't know how old he was, where his family was, if he had eaten that day, or what his future would hold.  But in those moments we were of one heart.  Although I will never forget that moment, I wanted to take a picture because I thought it was a good visual image of what my hope for Imani is - partnership.  Essentially saying, here is my hand, hold on, and let's continue on our journey together.  We are walking side by side, no one leading the other, but a mutual understanding that you will keep each other's pace.  There is something so powerful about the human touch - especially in a place where you cannot always communicate in words and where many people are use to being "untouchable."  Sometimes just reaching out your hand is the most effective means of doing ministry.  A tangible act of love.  It is what I imagine Jesus doing as he ministered to those who no one else wanted anything to do with.  The lepers.  The blind.  The widows and orphans.  

Break my heart for what breaks yours, Everything I am for your Kingdom's cause

That is my prayer.  May I continue to see the heart of God through the hearts of the people He created.  May my life be to bring forth the Kingdom, to love deeply and unconditionally, and to reach out my hands.