Kenya Reflections Part II: The Mzungu

It is not uncommon when traveling to a developing country to see the world with new eyes.  But seeing the disparity, the hunger, the sickness, the corruption is not enough.  It is like being a witness to a crime and deciding not to testify.  Though there are many challenges (and numerous failures) of charitable work, I believe saying and doing nothing is almost always worse than doing something.  I have not always "done it right."  One occasion immediately comes to mind.  It was during my first visit to Kenya in 2006.  I went with a rather large church group, and we were in a much more rural part of Kenya.  One day, we put on a carnival for kids in the surrounding area.  Mistake (or 'learning opportunity') number 1 = trying to replicate a very American event in a foreign country.  I was assigned to "toss the ball into the cup" game - the one where there are small prizes in the cup and if you land the ball into that cup, you win the prize.  Even as I type this, I am laughing because it just was not a good idea!  So I am setting up this game, and of course the kids are already flooding the area and I failed at my attempt to have them line up.  In the midst of trying to regain some order, the kids begin to stop the prizes, which were mostly candy if I remember correctly, and all of a sudden, I have been trampled by a herd of children diving for candy.  I was the dog at the bottom of the dog pile.  I couldn't see anything, I couldn't move, and I remember thinking....We were so stupid!  Why didn't we think this through???  These kids probably haven't eaten all day, so can I really blame them for trampling me to get a Tootsie roll??  And then I heard a man shouting and the snapping of a whip.  (I can barely type this without crying).  Upon realizing the American girl was at the bottom of a pile of hungry Kenyan children, one of men that were hosting our team took action.  A few harsh words and the crack of the whip to rescue me.  Though he kept apologizing, it was me that was ashamed and embarrassed.  These kids had never been to a carnival ..how were they suppose to know you had to stand in a line, wait your turn, and play a game?  All they knew was that they were hungry and there was something to eat.  This encounter likely portrays these kids as uncivilized and out of control, but that is only looking from an outsider's perspective.  The truth is these children were joyful, affectionate, resilient, and longed for attention and love.  Had we Americans truly reached out and met these kids where they were at, assessed their needs, and engaged in a culturally appropriate activity, I may not still be haunted by the memory of that day and the sight of the whip corralling the children.  I wish I had reached out and held them in my arms.  I wish I had taught them the Hokey Pokey.  I wish instead of pieces of candy I could have given them clean water, three meals a day, and a clean pair of clothes.  Wishful thinking, perhaps, but I knew if I ever went back, something had to change.

Funny thing...I had every intention of this being a blog about health care and the clinic.  But God tends to put things on my heart that burn so strongly, I cannot put them aside.  Several months ago, I finally read the book, When Helping Hurts.  It was one of books I always wanted to read, but hadn't ever gotten around to actually doing it.  I was under the impression that this was a book about how helping others can be emotionally taxing and how to keep oneself from carrying the burdens of the world.  Of course it would be a sort of self-help book about MY needs, right?  Well, I soon found out that is not at all what the book is about...to the contrary, the book is about how people who are trying to help actually hurt the people they are helping...ouch!  But God always knows what He is doing, and it was exactly what I needed to read and address during this season of life.  How do you go to another country, step into a different culture, see the things you see, and do something about it....while at the same time refrain from making judgments, imposing Western ideals, appearing superior, and acting out of pity....it's definitely not easy and I will say on behalf of the Western world, especially the Christians, we have not always done it very well and have consequently burned a lot of bridges.  A line from the book where the author is telling a story about Uganda...."Finally, there was me, the mzungu, and all which that word represents: money, power, education, money, superiority, and money."  While in the U.S. I may look borderline ethnic due to my mixed background, in Africa, I am white.  I am a mzungu.  No question.  I use to feel really guilty about that, and there are moments I still do.  But during my stay in Kenya this go-around, God really put it on my heart that guilt is not a desirable or fruitful emotion, and that there nothing wrong about being American, rich, or educated - but that there was something wrong with feeling superior, hoarding wealth, or using education solely for personal benefit.  It was a really freeing realization, and gets at the heart of why I started Imani.

Typically, I am not overly moved by "cliche" sayings that inscribed on various merchandise, plastered on social media, and found on the inside of Hallmark greeting cards.  Yet there are a few quotes that never get old for me, and have managed to hold onto their intended meaning and ability to move and inspire.  Mother Teresa's quote...We cannot do great things on this Earth, only small things with great love...is one of them.  "Small things, great love" has been like a personal mantra for me the past few years.  It has continued to remind me that it is more important to evaluate where your heart is than how much you have accomplished.  It reiterates the message that anyone can do small things, and therefore, everyone can make a difference.  Since I founded Imani Care International in July, I have received a lot of personal praise.  I know people mean well and I appreciate the encouragement.  But I didn't start a non-profit organization to add it to my resume or to be a better Christian.  I did it because I had to.  Let me explain that a bit.  No, no one told me I had to do this.  In fact, for a long time, no one even knew this was on my mind!  I was scared.  I normally just stick to the things I am good at, and I wasn't sure this was one of those things.  I didn't want to fail.  I didn't want to let down the people in Kenya, but selfishly, I did not think I could bear exposing the depths of my heart to the world and not have anyone else "catch the vision."  But God persisted, that still small voice the Bible talks about?  Well, God still uses it because He gently nudged me and eventually my heart softened, my anxieties waned, and my faith multiplied.  This dream was no longer my dream...it was God's plan.  Looking back on the past 8 months, I just smile because God is so faithful and so present.  Occasionally I get a bit stressed and overwhelmed, but I am constantly being reminded that Imani really is just a small extension of God's work and presence around the world.  And to be a part of it is more rewarding than anything else.  

Am I trying to say everyone should start a non-profit or go to Africa?  No, not necessarily.  But it is my hope and prayer that we don't sit on the sidelines and bear witness to the realities of our world when we all have some capacity to do something small with a lot of love.  You know what meant the most to the people I spent time with in Kenya?  It wasn't the medical supplies I brought or the fact that I am from California (and therefore a celebrity) or the possibility that I could fix all their problems.  It was that I came and was willing to spend time with them, in the clinic, and in the slum.  That a mzungu from "the best state in America" would fly on many planes to come sit with a bedridden patient in the slum.  It wasn't heroic.  It was a simple act of love.  

P.S.  I promise I will write more about the clinic & healthcare in Kenya soon :)

Trip Reflection Part I: Culture Shock

The title of this blog [Alyssa’s Kenya Adventure] is quite a fitting description for the 2 ½ weeks I spent in Nairobi last month.  I find it difficult to give a quick answer to the question “How was your trip?” because travelling halfway around the world to visit a health clinic is a bit different than going on a vacation.  In this first blog installment, I will attempt to bring you to Nairobi and give you a taste of the beauty, the challenges, the sights, and the people.  Enjoy.

 

The road the clinic is on

Let’s cover some of the basics of traveling to Kenya.  It takes around 21 flight hours and over 30 hours travel time to get to Nairobi, Kenya from Fresno.  Don’t forget to add in the 10 hour time difference!  For the most part, I actually enjoy airports and airplanes.  I like to think I have certain aspects of the traveling process down to a science…like going through security.  In terms of going through customs, it is relatively easy and I bought my tourist visa at the airport for $50.  My luggage arrived, which is always a small miracle.  I was greeted at the airport by Peter & Francisca Inoti, my host and the founders of the clinic.  And the adventure began…

Peter & Francisca and 2 of their 4 sons

My host family live in a modest, middle class home in a section of Nairobi called Imara Daima.  {No, I did not stay in a grass or mud hut, though they do exist in other parts of Kenya}  Imagine a suburban subdivision, though add in a few more animals and a few less luxuries like washing machines and kitchen appliances.  I was spoiled with my own room and bathroom, as their two youngest sons were away at boarding school.  Most days we had running water and electricity, though this was not a given.  I slept underneath a mosquito net and brushed my teeth with the bottled water I saved each day.

A typical day…

-Wake up around 8am.  I was glad there didn’t seem to be any rush to get out of the house!

-Shower (sometimes running water, sometimes a bucket), get dressed…I typically wore a long skirt and T-shirt (how I still managed to get hit on was truly a mystery!), spray myself with mosquito repellent & sunscreen, and slap on a little makeup

-Breakfast.  Some menu items included boiled sweet potatoes, mandaazi (fried bread), hard-boiled eggs, mango, bananas, bread, and always tea.  Their tea is heavy on the milk and sugar, and light on the tea.  I always struggled to drink even half a mug-full. 

-Head to the clinic around 10ish.  Kenyans are not time-oriented, so it is best not to expect a schedule or to make specific plans.  They live about a 15 minute walk from the clinic, though sometimes Peter would drive us, as he ran errands throughout the day.

-Spend the day at the clinic and eat lunch from the lady who runs a small restaurant across the way

-Sometimes in the afternoons, I would go with Peter into town to run errands or to pay someone a visit

-Go home sometime in the evening, anywhere between 5 and 8, depending on how busy the clinic was, if it was raining, if we were going to walk or take a matatu…

-Rest while dinner was being prepared…some days I took a nap, other times I journaled or read Les Miserables

Dinner

-Dinner around 9:30 or 10.  I came to appreciate the process of cooking a meal from scratch, including the slaughtering of the meat.  The dinner menu varied but typically included some sort of meat stew (chicken, goat, rabbit), some cooked vegetable (cabbage, kale, spinach), and either rice or ugali (maize flour & water combined to make a sort of paste) or my favorite, chapati….a “Kenyan tortilla”

-After dinner we typically would have long discussions about politics, culture, healthcare…or watch the news or Kenyan soap operas

-11ish…Off to bed….I was always exhausted!

Aside from Sunday (which is treated like a holiday), this was pretty much was daily life.  There was an ease about it, though I will admit not having a set plan was frustrating at times!  I came to realize that although my life at home is arguably busy in that I juggle my time and energy between many different things, I also am incredibly spoiled that I do not have to spend nearly as much time on necessary tasks like preparing food, washing clothes, washing dishes, walking places (or sitting in AWFUL Nairobi traffic), and constant cleaning (as everything is seemingly always dirty).  Life for the average Kenyan is much less about trying to do as much as possible in 24 hours than it is about 1) surviving and 2) spending time with people, and a close third…going to church.

I wish I could have blogged in real-time, but I did not have ready access to Internet.  I did keep a journal, so I wanted to share a few excerpts from that.

                Sometimes I think ‘why are people so afraid to go to a place like this’ and then little by little, I am reminded of some of the things that take some getting used to….like sleeping under a mosquito net, or wearing clothes that cover as much of your body as possible, even if it is hot and humid.  Or that running water is a luxury and hot running water is royalty.  That the roads are bumpy and the traffic rules seem more optional.  That you need flip flops in the bathroom and that dinner may be something you have never seen and you will not only eat it, but have seconds.  That even though people speak English, sometimes you have no idea what they are saying.  But I feel at home and at peace.  I love the smells, the activity, the way Kenyans have adapted to their circumstances.

                I just witnessed the epitome of globalization.  Francisca was holding a live, bound chicken (aka dinner) in one hand and digging through her purse for her cellphone with the other…while we were climbing in a matatu already full of ~18 people.

             

The chapati I made all by myself!

   Today I attended church, and I couldn’t help but think with all these churches in Nairobi, how many are actively engaging with their communities?  Maybe most of the parishioners are low income themselves.  Of course, I could ask the same question of churches in Clovis/Fresno and what ministries they are doing for the homeless, for the poor, for the mentally ill, for the sick, etc.  I guess it seems like if we are really acting as the body of Christ and living the life we say we believe in…shouldn’t our communities be noticeably transformed?  I am wrestling with many questions that I have been asked over the past few years…why not invest in your home community?  Why spend so much money on travel & trip costs when that could be used in the U.S.?  Shouldn’t Kenya take care of their own?  Aren’t they going to become reliant on donor support?  I must say all my critics have some valid points.  And at this point, I don’t have any good answers.  I personally think it must be both – I would be a hypocrite if I wasn’t willing to love and serve people in my town or at my job.  But I guess I can’t just say ‘oh that’s too bad’ regarding the things I have witnessed in Kenya – whether it is my responsibility or not.

Much more to come…I will describe the clinic, the patient population, and the incredible work that is done there in the next post, so stay tuned!

Hope Remains

Look at this picture for a moment.  What do you see?  What words would you use to describe it?  

When I saw this children's shoe lying on the ground in Kenya, I immediately thought of a glass case of shoes I had seen years before at the Holocaust museum, a whole display of everyday items that had been recovered...including a large pile of children's shoes.  I'm not sure what it is about the shoe, but I felt a sense of hope - that in the midst of the dirt and the trash, this shoe had remained as a reminder of the precious lives of children I was interacting with and what beauty and joy they gave to the world they lived in.  I remember also thinking that this image (for me at least) embodied these words of Anne Frank..."I don't think of all the misery but of the beauty that still remains."  As I quickly snapped the photo, it continues to tug at my heartstrings every time I see it...reminding me of the hope, of the beauty that can exist in such sorrow and filth.

Several recent events have left me struggling to find resolution and meaning and purpose.  As I was catching up with a friend I met volunteering in Kenya, I was saddened to find out that Edwin's health is failing.  I met Edwin at Hope School, which is one of the places I volunteered at several times.  Although it is not in Nairobi, the conditions surrounding the school are very similar and the school is an effort to provide the kids a place to congregate, to be cared for, and to learn as an alternative to wandering through the village all day.  It was a place of much joy, and to find Edwin you just had to listen for his laughter and look for his infectious smile.  I am told Edwin is in the hospital with malaria, typhoid fever, and pneumonia, in addition to being HIV+.  Honestly, I don't know what his chances are - likely that would depend on how well his immune system is holding up.  For now, that is all we know, and as we Westerners desperately beg for more information, we are reminded that not all of the world is instantly connected and that even technology falls short.  I am left with one option: to pray.  Though it is the best option, the nurse and the caregiver in me struggles to find peace, begging God to spare His life.

Much closer to home, I am watching a patient at work suffer too.  I think how many thousands of dollars have gone into the care of this boy over the course of years - he has received all the best Western modern medicine has to offer, and yet in His case, his outlook doesn't look any better than Edwin's.  Perhaps it is because I have seen it with my own eyes, but my prayers are for comfort- that his pain would end, that his weary body would get to rest.  As I remember some of the conversations we have had in the past several weeks, I am reminded of his strength and determination and kind-spirit.  Both little guys have shaped the person I am today, and been lights in the darkness of their circumstances.

As my trip to Kenya quickly approaches (less than a month), my emotions are becoming more raw and my heart vulnerable.  Though it has been about 18 months since I have been in Kenya, many of the experiences I had remain vivid and I often relive them in my mind.  I was watching some of the footage from the Carnival ship disaster and saw a woman holding up the red biohazard bag that passengers had been given to defecate in.  At first, I was horrified...thinking to myself, these people paid all this money to go on vacation, to go on a cruise and to not have to worry about anything; this is inhumane, this is an outrage!  However, I quickly was taken back to the Mukuru slums in Nairobi and how the concept of "flying toilets" is a daily reality, as they have no choice but to use small plastic bags as a sewage system...not for several days, but indefinitely.  And they don't get to sue anyone.  They don't even get shown on the news or written about in the paper.  That has been a huge part of my heart for Imani...being able to share the stories and experiences of people who otherwise are never heard and who believe the world has essentially forgotten about them.  I cannot change all of their circumstances, I cannot ensure all of their needs are met....not even their health needs, BUT I can affirm that they have intrinsic worth and that there are people in this world who care about them.  And for every one thing I may have given to them, the people of Kenya have blessed me hundreds of times over.  Without a doubt.

I didn't choose Kenya - Kenya chose me.  And in the midst of tragedy, disease, inhumane living conditions, corruption, violence....hope remains.

Happiness is...

Today I feel happy.  I am not sure exactly what it was about today, but it's one of those days where I have found a lot of joy in even the smallest of things.  I am not sure if it's a song or what, but something related to Charlie Brown has this series of statements that begin with "Happiness is..."  and that is what has inspired this post.

Happiness is....

• Seattle.  Tomorrow bright & early I will be en route to the city I have come to love.  Though I am very happy to be living & working in California, Seattle is like a second home.  The cityscape as you drive in from the airport, the waterfront views, the cool, crisp mornings, watching the rain come down from the warmth of one of many coffee shops, when the sun finally shows its face and all of Seattle comes out with it.  But all that is secondary to one thing: the people.  When I moved to go to college, I did not know anyone.  Four years later...I had to say goodbye to dozens of people who have shaped and changed my life forever.  Reconnecting with people you love has to be one of the best things in the world.  
• Mail.  Anyone who knows me knows how much I love mail.  When I have worked the night shift and am sleeping during the days, sometimes I will wake up around noon, momentarily, to go check and see if the mail has arrived.  I am also guilty of keeping the door open (with the screen door) so I can hear the truck when it turns on our street and being "upset" on holidays because the mail isn't delivered.  You would think with all the hype that I must get a substantial amount of exciting mail...though I do probably get more snail mail than most, there are many days when I get nothing of substance.  Still those days I get a card from a friend or a package covered in stickers - it makes my day.  Hence why I send a lot of mail.  That realization that someone took the time to write a message or assemble a package or pick out a postcard....find your address...track down a stamp or took a trip to the post office...it just makes you feel incredibly loved.  Though I know the world continues to move full speed ahead into the digital age, I am fighting it.  Even with Imani, I am convinced the 46 cents is truly a small price to pay to remind someone they are loved.
• Laughing for no good reason.  I can tend to be rather sarcastic, and truly do enjoy a little wit and a good laugh.  I worked last night and at one point in the middle of the night, I was looking at my status board that lists the patients I am taking care of and happened to see they were all listed as Fall Risk.  I couldn't help but share with the other nurse I was working with, "Hey, you know what I just realized?  None of my patients can walk."  And we burst into laughter.  I guess it was just the sudden realization that even though the 4 kids I was taking care of had completely different diagnoses and ranged in age from toddler to teenager, somehow they all had something going on that was affecting their ability to walk.  To most people, this is not the slightest bit funny and maybe even somewhat offensive, but the point is I am learning not to take myself too seriously and laughing with my coworkers definitely helps get through the stressful times.
• Everything fitting in your carry-on suitcase.  My mom has always been a huge advocate of rolling clothing and packing strategically.  After moving away from home for college, I learned the art of packing as I traveled and moved a number of times.  Although I could afford to pay the extra $25 to check a bag, I was determined to at least try to fit everything I needed into a carryon suitcase and a purse.  The moment you realize you packed everything AND have room for an extra shirt or two....a huge sense of relief and accomplishment (and the added bonus of not having to wait at baggage claim upon arrival).
• A good parking spot.  My sister always says: "A good parking spot equals a successful shopping trip."  [Of course if we lived in a city with real parking issues....a good parking spot would be more like winning the lottery!]  But there is something about arriving at your destination and spotting that open spot that gives you a little boost of endorphins...and today I was blessed with a lot of good parking spots.
• A home-cooked meal.  I was inspired to cook tonight.  Despite the fact I don't cook a whole lot since I started working night shift and moving home, I do genuinely enjoy cooking.  I decided to make feta and spinach turkey burgers...it's really quite simple but they taste like you put a lot more time into it :)
• Having true friends.  I have always been blessed with wonderful friends.  No, I was never the most popular, I didn't have the hot boyfriend...or even a boyfriend at all, I wasn't a star athlete, but I always have had friends who loved me for who I am, who have been there through thick and thin.  To have friends who care about you all over the country and even the world, it's a wonderful feeling.  Investing in my friendships is a top priority and taking a step back to see what a wide circle that has been cultivated over the years...it's a pretty cool thing.

Remembrance

I am writing today from my heart.  I have no political or social motives, nor do I have any claim to the solution to the brokenness of this world.

One cannot help but be moved by the Sandy Hook tragedy.  As I have watched media coverage along with the rest of the country, tears have come as I, too, am devastated by this loss, especially of so many small children.  I was touched by an interview I heard with one of the teachers describing how she heard the gunshots and ushered her kindergarten class into the corner for “story time” and preceded to read them a book.  Heroes are uncovered when tragedy strikes, and for every horrific act, it seems a multitude of individuals respond by doing something good.  Though it cannot bring back lives that were lost or take away the pain and grief so many are facing, it does offer a glimmer of hope.

When reflecting on loss of life, I cannot help but think about Kenya and the hundreds of people around the world who die each day from malnutrition, disease, and war.  The difference between these lives lost is that no one will see their story on television, their pictures rarely make the papers, and their families will not receive an outpouring of support and condolences from a heartbroken country.  On one hand, I am grateful these daily tragedies are not consistently covered by the media because I am not sure any of us could emotionally bear some of injustices that people around the world face.  But by keeping these realities out of sight, we have reduced human life to statistics.  We vaguely know the impact of HIV/AIDS, malaria, decades long civil wars, sex trafficking, female genital mutilation, famine & starvation….but we are hesitant to allow ourselves to get emotionally involved.  I include myself in this “we”….even though I do deeply care about those suffering around the world, there are times I just cannot bear to read or watch anything about another place or another issue, because I already feel so burdened by the slums of Kenya.  I think this is where we have to trust that as we seek the Lord, He will guide our hearts to the places and issues and the people we are called to care about.  No idea where this line originates from but I like its concise, powerful message…..you don’t have to do everything, but do something. 

Imani Care International is my response to what I experienced in Kenya.  As many of you know, starting a nonprofit organization was not what I had originally planned or hoped to do.  Yet that was the direction God was pulling me, and once I surrendered my own ideas, I caught a vision for Imani and things really just began to fall into place.  Though a huge part of how ICI will help to support health in the Nairobi slums is through financial resources….I am equally, if not more, passionate about giving a voice and an awareness to individuals…amazing people I met who have given me so much as I pay witness to their lives of determination, sacrifice, perseverance, and faith in the midst of some pretty horrific circumstances.  Probably the thing I most look forward to about returning this March is to be able to hear more stories and affirm the humanity that we all share.  Not everyone can, will, or even should go to Kenya, but it is my responsibility to share those stories and to give remembrance to lives that are lost.  

I was jokingly asked how much it would cost for someone to get the clinic to name something after them.  The truth is…it’s not about the money, it’s about the relationship.  They are not some people in Africa I send money to from time to time.  They are a second family, people I talk to on a regular basis and share the joys and sorrows of life with.  Peter, Francesca, Hadijah, David…they are my friends.  I cannot wait to be reunited with them and look forward to sharing their stories with those who have generously supporting Imani.

The Unspoken

Being a nurse is really hard.  Since I have started working, every time people ask me about my job or how I like being a nurse, I find myself internally debating how honest of an answer to give.  I usually respond something like "It's a lot to learn, but I like it" or "I really enjoy being able to see the same kids and families over a longer period of time."  Both of those are true.  But that is only a small portion of what I really want to say.

I never really knew what a nurse (in the 21st century) did until I went to nursing school, despite wanting to become a nurse years before.  And until I actually got a job and starting working on the floor, I did not know truly know what it was like to BE a nurse.  Yes, nursing is one of the most trusted professions...a profession where they make little pins and mugs and things that say "Nurses are Angels."  I knew I was entering a career that many before me have found to be rewarding and satisfying, and of course, the salary and benefits weren't too shabby either.  Aside from several school lectures about "burnout" and "compassion fatigue," I entered the world of nursing somewhat oblivious to the complexities of providing holistic care.

So what is all of this prologue leading up to?  I have been on my own for about a month now, and several nights ago I admitted my first patient coming in with a suspected cancer diagnosis.  When the charge nurse informed me of the patient I would be receiving in the middle of the night, my initial focus was on what type of care plan to prepare and which room they would be going into.  Yet when the patient and family arrived, it hit me that this was a pivotal moment in their life.  As I looked into mother's eyes, I saw the immense fear and the intense anxiety that accompanies the unknown.  I saw her trying so hard to be brave for her child, who had not been told anything.  I made it through my initial assessment, charting, and explaining general hospital things, and left them to settle in.  It wasn't long before my co-worker came by to inform me the mother was standing in the hall on the phone crying.  My heart sank.

My head told me....Alyssa, she is on the phone, let her be, you don't want to interrupt or eavesdrop or try to pretend like you have known this woman longer than an hour.  Plus what if she asks you a lot of questions?  What do you know about any of this?  What is she finds out how new and inexperienced you are?

My heart disagreed.  She needs to know she isn't in this alone.  She doesn't need a lot of words, she just needs someone present.  Go be the kind of nurse you have longed to be.

So I went over.  I pulled up a chair.  I took her hand in mine.  I don't remember who spoke first or really anything that I said.  I just know I held her hand and I was there.  As much as I wanted to break down and burst into tears, the drive to be fully present for her held back the floodgates.  And so the night progressed, and I was their nurse for the following two nights as well, walking alongside them as they went through the diagnostic procedures and eventually the confirmed case of cancer.  On one hand, I know this is only the beginning...that I will experience similar scenarios with other kids and their families.  But it will not ever become normal or routine.  The day it does...I will need to stop.  For that family, it was the worst day of their entire lives.  Everything changes....and there is hardly a moment to take it all in, as treatment starts almost immediately.

The juggling of the head and the heart, the balancing act of dividing your time between 4 patients while trying to be 100% present for each one, the long hours, the unpredictable schedule, the learning curve coming from school, the constant feelings of inadequacy and many fears....it is not easy and after some shifts, I never want to return.  But the thing thus far that keeps me pressing on is that brief moment when the mother introduces you to her relatives as "our great night nurse" and gives you a big hug.  Somehow those 10 seconds make up for the exhaustion, tears, and doubts.  I don't know how long I will work on this unit or even at a U.S. hospital...but I do know that wherever the road takes me, I want to be present and share the unspoken.

Flowing Streams

I am quite tired as I write this, but it is one of those times where I have this sense of urgency to blog.  Several thoughts...no carefully thought out theme or blog title.  Believe it or not sometimes I will just be going about my day and out of nowhere I will have the title of a blog come to me, or I will start to mentally write out a blog post in my head...  But none of that today...just some insights into my heart as I reflect on the past several weeks of life.

I realize this is the third time I am posting this picture...but I guess I just wanted the opportunity to write a little more than a Facebook caption.  Now, I had no idea this existed until a Canadian couple I am in contact with visited Imara in October.    I was very excited to see new pictures of the clinic, but this definitely was a shock.  On one hand, it's one of the most touching and incredible things I have experienced.  I mean, who wouldn't want to be honored in such a way?  Some people pay millions of dollars to get their name on a building. A lot of times people don't get their names put on anything until they are dead!

On the other hand, I feel very undeserving of such an honor.  I could not have done anything that I have done thus far in my life without the grace and faithfulness of God, and I want him to receive the honor & glory above all else.  Plus, I believe the people of Kenya, especially those at Imara, have given me more than I could have ever given to them.  I hope to cherish and honor them, just as they have done for me.

The underlying message this represents is what is most encouraging to me.  We have a friendship, a partnership...we are in this together.  I knew that if I really was going to move forward and start a non-profit that it must be on the foundation of supporting and partnering, and not going and doing.  The truth is...I am not really very equipped to provide healthcare to Kenyans, as much as my heart does desire to.  I do not speak Swahili.  I did not grow up in the African culture.  I know very little about tropical diseases.  But, the lovely part of it all is that God has used both my strengths and weaknesses to help support the wonderful, wonderful things that are already going on in Kenya.  And that is why it is so exciting for me to extend that opportunity to others through Imani Care International.

As I was driving to work this evening, I heard this guy on the radio say something that really struck me. When I was at the next red light, I found a piece of paper and quickly wrote it down, so I wouldn't forget.  He said in regards to how we use our money/possessions/resources/influence, we should want to be "flowing streams of blessing, and not stagnant pools of entitlement."  Think of that one for a moment.  I never fully understood the concept of generosity and the joy of giving until recently.  You would think that as I am trying to start a nonprofit I would be saving up my funds exclusively for Imani...and honestly, that was my original intention once I started receiving a "real" paycheck.  But from that first paycheck...God just began rewiring my heart.  And there just have consistently been situations and opportunities that have just plopped themselves right in front of me....and I know my heart has changed because I am just so eager to give and so excited to watch God redistribute what He has blessed me with.  I don't want to be stagnant....yes, I want to be wise and there is wisdom in saving, but there is just something so freeing about not being attached to money!  And not viewing it as exclusively mine, to benefit me only (or even my own organization).

I guess my challenge for myself, and maybe for you as well, is to give with absolutely no expectations.  Sounds easier than it really is.  That means when you are helping a friend out through a tough time, you don't do it because you want to ensure they will return the favor.  It means you don't always expect people to pay you back or make them feel indebted to you.  It means donating to things even if you cannot get a tax-write off.  That means if we want to be "flowing streams," our generosity really should never stop...it's not just a season or a time of the month or a stage of life.  That means giving even when you have already "tithed" for the month.  It means letting go of something...whether it be time, money, material things, control....and expecting nothing in return.  It's freeing.  And more likely than not, God will just entrust you with even more to give :)