13 Letters & Counting

For as long as I can remember, I have always loved both sending and receiving mail.  My earliest memories of sending mail were at age 6, when my cousin and I became penpals. It was so exciting to receive something in the mail 'just because' and not for Christmas or a birthday.  I have been called a hoarder, but I have saved almost every handwritten card, letter, and note that I have received over the years.  Although most of the time they simply occupy a box or a bin, there are random moments when I will take them out, read a few, and be blessed all over again.  I used parts of letters to write my speech when I was Maid of Honor at my penpal cousin's wedding.  For one of my friend's birthdays, I went through our old junior high notes and made copies of them, which I used background paper for a scrapbook I made her.  The words people have written to me over the years help tell the story of my life.  Yes, I realize after I die, there is a strong chance they will be thrown away shortly thereafter.  I know they could not possibly mean as much to someone else as they do to me.  But until then, I will continue to cherish each one.

Handwritten letters and snail mail is a dying art.  With e-mail, text messaging, social media, blogs, and all sorts of other ways to communicate, why would anyone ever send a letter anymore?  It is not convenient.  It is not free.  You do not have a record of exactly what you wrote and when you sent it.  There is no spell check.  You cannot change your font, or send the exact same message to multiple people.  You risk getting a hand cramp, your pen running out of ink, your pencil breaking, not being able to find a stamp, or the recipient's current address.  

All that I just mentioned....that is exactly why I love writing letters.   Yes, it costs money to buy a stamp. Yes, it takes time, focus, and some energy to write a letter.  No, it really is not something you can easily multi-task doing.  Yes, it could get lost or returned to you for the wrong address.  But in a subtle way sending someone a letter tells someone they are worth the cost, the time, and the effort.

Although I am a fairly goal oriented and driven person, I do not routinely make New Year's resolutions.  Sometimes I have some ideas in my head about how I would like to change, but rarely am I concrete or do I physically write it down (which my sister says is the first step to actually achieving any goal).  This year, the idea just kind of came to me.  I was reading this post someone had shared on Facebook called something like "18 Things People Should Take Time to Do."  Letter writing was near the top.  People have always associated me with giving cards, sending mail, and as I was informed via letter today "I guess I am doing the Alyssa thing and running out of room so I have to write on the back."  Yes, I am known for writing on the back.  I typically always start to write in a card on the left panel, in anticipation that I will easily fill up the inside, and save the back just in case I need it.  I tend to be wordy, tend to have a lot to say.  Even when I write emails, this tends to be the case.  Probably even more so since I can type pretty fast.  All this to say is that I decided 2014 was the year I would bring back the handwritten letter.

I began on January 1 and have written 13 letters so far.  One letter a day, trying to get it in the mail within a day or two.  Don't fret if you have not received a letter.  There are PLENTY more days in the year and the order of recipients has nothing to do with popularity or the status of our friendship.  I had thought about how I decided who I would write to.  I thought about putting a bunch of names in a jar and picking one out each day.  I thought about just going alphabetically through my address list.  But then I decided I wanted this to be more than just something on my to do list.  I wanted it to be a blessing.  I wanted to use something I enjoy doing and receiving, and be disciplined enough to make it a regular part of my life.  So I decided to leave the recipients up to God.  I just sensed that He would put people on my heart each day, and although I just speak from 13 days of experience, each day I have been certain that I was writing to exactly the right person.

Although I did not resolve to write letters in order to receive a lot more mail, it is a nice bonus.  Today I received a card from a dear friend.  I will leave you with the wisdom she shared.

"May you see a simple and consistent thing like the sun in California and be thankful for it.  And may you have unforeseen endurance in your resolutions."

Faith to Move Mountains

A Christmas miracle came early this year.  I feel incredibly lucky to be able to witness what God is doing through me and through Imani Care International.  Let me explain...

The past few weeks have been chaotic.  Emotions running high, to do lists so long they went to the back of the page, out of town visitors, last minute event planning details, coordinating volunteers...not to mention continuing to work my night shifts and preparing for Christmas.  I thought perhaps when the event was over on December 7, things might settle down a bit.  Not true.  It was amazing how well the night went, and I was overwhelmed by the community spirit and generosity that I witnessed.  We not only met but exceeded our fundraising goal.  This was a huge blessing - and then it became a race against time to pull things together to actually start the project to fix the sewage & drainage problems at the clinic that we had been fundraising for since May.  As I told my co-workers, I was trying to move a mountain.

We had the money, but now I had to draft a contract, discuss it with the board of directors, revise the contract, get approval from the board, sign/scan/send to Kenya (which involved taking my printer out of the box and setting it up), wait to hear back, be in communication with the Rotary, send a "test" international wire to their bank account, wait to hear if that had gone through, receive the signed contract, confirm the test funds had been received, and finally, make it to the bank before Christmas Eve to send the first installment of funds to be used to purchase all the supplies, which would mark the official start of the project.  And by God's grace, it happened!  Truly a miracle.

As I was standing at the counter at the bank, I was holding back tears as I thought about what that particular moment symbolized.  Yes, it marked the beginning of a construction project that would tangibly benefit the staff and patients at Imara.  But it was so much more than that.  It represented all that I had been fighting for since the day I got back from my trip to Kenya in 2011.   It was the pay off for all of the hard work so many people have done over the past year.  It symbolized being able to restore hope by addressing a need the clinic has had for years.

Normally I do not put a whole lot of thought into the meaning of names, but it is no coincidence that Imani means 'faith.'  I feel like my faith at the beginning of this journey in Spring of 2012 was even smaller than a mustard seed.  Now I am not exactly sure how big a mustard seed is.  According to Google, a seed even smaller than a mustard seed is that of a certain variety of Orchid....so it is safe to say my faith was as small as an Orchid seed.  Everything at that point in my life I had pretty much attributed to hard work and perseverance.  Yes, I acknowledged God's hand at work, but I don't think I had ever done something I was so completely afraid of and for awhile opposed to.  I normally just did the things I was relatively good at - I was a play it safe type.  I wanted to help the people in Kenya, but I figured I would only do things within my reach....ask for donations on my birthday, save up money so I could travel back, tell people about my experiences when they asked.  I did not think I was the type that could do something bigger.  I did not want to make too much noise.  I did not want to fail.

I love what Martin Luther King Jr. said - "Faith is taking the next step, even when you cannot see the entire staircase."  There are no guarantees in life - and anything that promises that is just a futile attempt to make us feel like we dictate the course of our lives.  Starting a nonprofit organization felt like a huge risk.  I felt like I had everything to lose and that maybe I should just 'play it safe' and not take the chance.  I kept thinking what if I go to all this trouble, spend all this time and money, and then in the end, I don't actually help the people I care about in Kenya.  Lots of what ifs.  And to be honest, those did not end when ICI was founded.  They continued.  What if.....we don't get our tax exemption?  ....we run out of money?  ....no one comes to our events?  ...people don't care?  And on and on.  But there was always that voice saying But how can you not try?  What if it does work?  What if you do succeed?  What if this is your chance to change the world?  

This really is only the beginning.  So many things have happened this year that I never thought would happen.  Now I don't seem obstacles as much as I see challenges.  My fears are opportunities to have faith.  My exhaustion is the chance to fully rely on God.  My weakness is God's strength.  And those mountains...I have seen them move.

Generosity & Gratitude

Sometimes "thank you" just does not seem like enough.

In the weeks/months prior to Imani's Christmas event, I was so focused on tasks, details, and deadlines that I failed to recognize what a beautiful thing was unfolding before me. Sure, I had been in contact with dozens of people over the course of the fall season. I had recruited people to do a variety of things, invited over 100 people to attend, and sought assistance and encouragement from friends both near and far. But it was not until December 7 that I really saw what Imani had become. Within a matter of hours, a banquet room stuck in the 70's was transformed into a breath-taking winter wonderland. Saturday morning, one of the coldest days of the year, people began to arrive. And they just starting to do things. Yes, I had long lists of tasks to be done, but it was something to behold how people just saw a need and met it. Trees were set up, lights strung, napkins folded, tables set, tables moved, crafts set out. It was incredible.

And then the event itself. I had played it through in my mind many times, trying to think of as many "What if" scenarios as possible in order to be prepared. Yet it just happened. Sure a few hiccups along the way but they just seemed to work themselves right out. I can honestly say I was not stressed and able to enjoy myself. Everything was taken care of. And as the event came to an end, that same village got to work. Packed the place right up. I did not have to ask a single person to stay and help. They just did. Incredible. All of that in addition to a great turnout (the event actually sold out) and the faith and generosity of those who attended. It still gives me chills to share with people that we raised $10,000. Amazing.

This is what Imani has become. A dedicated group of individuals who believe in the work we are committed to and who are willing to help in the ways they can. One thing I shared at the event was my heart to expand the definition of "giving." I know not everyone can write a check, but I am convinced that everyone can give - time, talents, connections, prayers. I always believe giving takes some amount of faith - if you wait until you feel you have all your ducks in a row, you will miss a lifetime of opportunities to be generous. I believe in what Imani is doing, but there are countless opportunities to give - to an individual in need, a devoted organization, the church you attend, someone going on a missions trip. Christmas is a great time to be generous, but I pray we don't stop there. It was such a joy to inform the clinic that God had provided and that soon they would not have to worry about the rains flooding their clinic.

I have learned so much about generosity and gratitude from the people I have met in Kenya. The first time I went to the clinic as I was leaving to get into the van to go back to the volunteer house, I remember Francesca insisting that she buy me a soda to thank me for coming. During my senior year of college, I received multiple cards from Kenya - Christmas, graduation, thank you's. Each time I initially thought, "They shouldn't have spent the postage to send this," yet quickly realized I needed to just receive it graciously. When I spent time in Indonesia, I was humbled by the generosity of our host families in preparing food for us and truly giving us royal treatment, despite having very little to give.

I am learning to be more gracious. I am working on not saying "You shouldn't have" when someone makes a donation or gives beyond what I feel was necessary or expected. I am learning to just express gratitude and thank the person for giving in faith. I am also learning that saying "thank you," though it may not seem like much, is a powerful gesture and always worth the time. As Christmas comes and goes, let us be generous, grateful, and gracious - replacing our "shouldn't have's" with "thank you's" and not being afraid to accept the gifts of others. May we learn to give, not for the sake of shopping, to repay debts, out of obligation, or whatever other motives we may have, but out of response to our generous Heavenly Father who gave us the most precious gift of all, His son.

With Gratitude, Alyssa

The Great Adventure

Hello world, This is Alyssa and yes, I am still alive despite the fact I have not written on here for quite some time. It is not that I have not wanted to...I often even think to myself "oh that would make a great blog post." Somewhere in the midst having the thoughts and actually translating them into written words....it just does not happen. Today is different.

 I originally titled this blog "Alyssa's Kenya Adventure" to reflect a month long trip to Kenya after my junior year of college. I ended up keeping the blog, mostly as an outlet for post trip reflections, frustrations, ponderings. And in a lot of ways, I am still in that stage. Yes, a lot has happened in the past 2 years, but the primary questions and convictions I experience remain largely the same.

 I must apologize for my over-zealous attempts to convince people to buy hoodies in the past several days. Or some of my repetitive stories about Kenya, pleas about the drainage project, or just talking about Imani in general. I think my worry is that if I stop talking, posting, sharing...that it will be forgotten. The hardest part about founding an organization is not expecting the people who volunteer, donate, serve on the board to be as passionate about the cause as you are. Especially when you were driven to start the entire thing based on a personal adventure that was not necessarily shared with anyone else. When I beg you to buy a hoodie, I really don't care about the hoodie. I am hoping, praying that you will care about the people in Kenya, about their health clinic, about their joys and struggles....and measuring hoodie sales is sometimes the only tangible means I have of doing that. I want people to know that working in health care in resource poor areas is very challenging and often discouraging. I want people to know that these people are my friends, not just the people my organization supports. There is a lot riding on that hoodie....

 I had no intentions of settling down once I graduated nursing school. I did not intend to move home, to work at the hospital I grew up volunteering at and raising money for. I did not want to start or do anything that would let me roots grow too deep to the point where being uprooted would be too painful. Yet here I am. I know God had a purpose for keeping me here....I did not know that Imani would become what it has in a relatively short amount of time. I did not know I would be that person who is constantly checking and sending emails, drafting contracts, running around to the bank, post office, and coffee shop(okay well I did know that haha), making calls to the lawyer, planning a catered event. It is so easy to get caught up in all the things, the numbers, the to do lists. How many people are coming? How much money are we spending? How much progress has been made on this project? Did we receive donations this week? When are we going to have a board meeting? When can I make it back to Kenya?

 It is easy to lose sight of the foundation...of the great adventure that led me to this world of business and legal jargon and event planning in the first place. I wanted to show the people I met and loved and became friends with in Kenya that I did not go home and forget. That I was not just happily readjusting to a comfortable life. That going to Kenya was not just a trip I took one time or a learning experience or an attempt to do some good in the world to feel better about myself. As much as I am grateful for the incredible opportunities I have been given, I still prefer just listening to people tell their stories, visiting the sick, running around and playing with children, and sharing those experiences with others. The simple things. I know the world is not simple and it takes some effort to navigate through the complexities. Yet Imani was started simply - just my attempt to do small things with great love in the slums of Nairobi.

 I thought the adventure part was limited to the time I was physically in Kenya. Now I realize that each day is an adventure - whether I am here or there. The life God calls us to is an adventure. There is this old Steven Curtis Chapman song "The Great Adventure" that goes something like this:

"Saddle up your horses
We've got a trail to blaze
Through the wild blue yonder
Of God's amazing grace
Let's follow our Leader
Into the glorious unknown
This is a life like no other
This is the great adventure, yeah
 Come on get ready
For the ride of your life
Gonna leave long faced religion
In a cloud of dust behind
And discover all the new horizons
Just waiting to be explored
This is what we were created for, yeah"

So whether my day is spent waiting in line at the post office and addressing invitations or giving chemotherapy and offering support to the family of a newly diagnosed child or immunizing children and walking through the slums - it is all part of this great adventure. God knows what lies before me and all I can do is wake up in the morning and say "What do you have for me today?" Thank you for bearing witness and taking part in this great adventure.

To Whom Much Is Given

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.

8 out of 10

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.

Gnocchi, Graduation, and Growing Up

It's going to be 100 degrees today.  As I just recently moved into an apartment, I am hesitant to get into the habit of resorting to the AC.  And today is the day I decide to try to make potato gnocchi - a food I thoroughly enjoy but am mildly terrified to try and make.  Currently, I have a huge pot of water boiling, the dishwasher running, and the coffeemaker brewing.  I am sweating.  I know it's probably insanity (possibly heat-derived) but I feel this sense of needing to set out and accomplish a task.  Sure it's no marathon or Mount Everest, but it's something I have wanted to do for a long time now and I am tired of waiting for a better time to do it.



A year ago, I graduated from university and from nursing school.  I remember feeling a huge sense of relief....nursing school at times was my Mount Everest, my mountain to conquer.  And when you are standing in the middle of dozens of your peers all gowned and capped....you do feel as if you have scale great heights.  All the times you doubted, all the late nights and early mornings, all the exams and papers....all of that led to one moment.  And you are in the presence of your closest friends and supportive family.  It all builds up to that climax....and then, as quickly as it came, it's over.  You are left with a sense of "well now what??"  I remember packing up my apartment, which my roommates and I referred to as "The Oasis", and feeling a sense of devastation.  Life as I knew it was over.  No more school (at least not the way I knew it).  No more clear sense of direction and goals.  I was losing my sense of community - the family I had created, the home away from home.  Within 24 hours, graduation had turned from one of the happiest moments to one of the most unsettling and painful.  I wondered if this was the side of fairy tales that no one tells us - that after the "happily ever after" without having to overcome obstacles, battle dragons, and wait for your Prince Charming, that life loses its zest.

The truth is - life after graduation has been a new adventure, with lots to celebrate, new mountains to scale, and new friends to be made.  Actually, I probably have done more in this past year in terms of "firsts" than I have in all of my school years combined, most notably getting my first real job as a nurse and starting a non-profit organization.  Neither have been easy, although both have been incredibly rewarding and provide an ongoing adventure.  Yet I still have this sense of what next - do I just keep working and putting money in the bank?  Do I put my time and energy into making my apartment a home?  Should I be trying to promote Imani more so we can have a greater impact in Kenya?  Am I suppose to be settling down and finding a mate?  (notice the last question is at the bottom of my priority list :)  I think I keep trying to find a single solution.  Some days I think okay maybe I should go back to school and then I spend a couple hours looking into Master's programs.  Other times I think okay, I need to spend more time on Imani and really start planning for the months ahead.  And then there are the days I just want to forget I am an adult and spend a few days in Disneyland or watch episodes of Gilmore Girls that I have seen multiple times.

School is a security blanket.  As much as you hate it and wish it were over, it is what shapes the average American for 13-17 years of their lives.  I think most people naturally transition the role school played to their jobs....a new structure, something you wake up in the morning to do, a group of people who become like a family, a place where you have some sort of purpose.  For those who have a family, I think those responsibilities, especially raising kids, provide those same functions as well.  I guess I am still trying to figure out my place and my purpose.  I don't just want to be a nurse.  I don't just want to be the director at Imani.  I want to explore the world.  I want to meet new people.  I want pursue my other passions of writing, crafting, nannying, gardening.  I want to make gnocchi.

The beauty of writing (at least for me) is I can have conversations with myself, and in the process of doing so, I find glimmers of peace and serenity.  I feel not quite as crazy, and have this secret hope that maybe someone will read this and think I thought I was the only one.  So here's to living life....not just as a student or a nurse or someone who loves Kenya, but as an individual, as a human being, as a child of God.