Bulletproof Vest

Have you ever considered purchasing a bulletproof vest???

Not the question you expect to be asked while opening your mail at the post office. 

It all started because I was wearing my Imani shirt.  I find this funny, because I often joke that wearing an Imani t-shirt is my “uniform” for the days when I am not working at the hospital.  I worked last night, napped today, got up, showered, and put on my Imani shirt, the black one that says “DREAM BIG” on the front, and has our logo on the back.  I went to the post office to check Imani’s PO box, and was standing at the counter, opening the mail.

A middle-aged man walked behind me, and stopped to ask me about my shirt.  I gave a brief explanation of what Imani is and what we do, my elevator speech so to speak.  He proceeded to share about his connections to Kenya, and began to ask more questions.  Each question I answered seemed to lend itself to a follow-up question.

Why Kenya?  When did you first go there?  So you fell in love with Africa?  Where did you go to nursing school?  Do you know my cousin’s wife Carol Redfield (which I actually do – she was one of my nursing professors)?  Are you aware of the current issues going on in the country?  Is Kenya safe? 

And then…

Have you ever considered purchasing a bulletproof vest?

I smiled, maybe even smirked a little bit, and said no.  And here’s where things got a bit interesting.

His follow-up question:

Do you look both ways before you cross the street? 

             

Yes, I do.

So why would you not take the proper precautions when you are in a country where you are a direct target and the vest could save your life?

I won’t try and recall word for word the rest of our 30 minute conversation.  I also want to say that this man was well-educated, articulate, and respectful.  However, things definitely got a bit heated.  Here’s a bit of a window into some of the things we discussed, and why I walked away from the interaction with peace and blessed assurance.

Is Kenya safe?

I think this is a topic I have touched on a little bit.  My first response is generally, “well, it depends on who you ask.”  It also depends on what your definition of safety is.  I have never felt afraid to travel to Kenya.  I cannot fully explain why that is, and despite what this man bluntly called “my naivety,” I can only attribute this absence of fear to God.  I know there are terrorist attacks.  I know that being an American Christian female does increase my risks.   But there are always risks.  Some you actively choose – like driving a car, and others just happen – like getting diagnosed with cancer.  It was such a powerful reminder to me that safety is not a guarantee in this life when I arrived in Nairobi last June, and the very first thing I read on my phone was a text message about the shooting at SPU, my alma mater.  What a sobering moment of realizing that on that day, the place I had lived, attended classes, and considered a home, a private school in a nice neighborhood, was more dangerous than being half way across the world in East Africa. 

Have you ever considered purchasing a bulletproof vest, knowing the risks you are encountering?

I shared that if I felt I needed a bulletproof vest to travel to Kenya, I would never go in the first place.  I also said that my faith in God was my bulletproof vest, which I was subsequently told was “blind faith.”  This man proceeded to share several stories, which he felt exhibited the problems with having total faith in God, and not using reason or wisdom.  One example was people who do not take any medications and refuse all treatment when they are sick.  (I think he knew as a nurse I wouldn't be able to argue that one!!)  He compared me to a child who does not know the dangers of the world, who would run in the street into traffic, unaware of the realities of danger and death.  He also told me that there are groups of people out there just waiting to capture or attack people like me. 

In some ways, he is right.  God says that we should emulate the faith of a child.  "Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it."  Luke 18:17 ESV

And yes, there are most definitely people out there who want to hurt others.  Yet I am fully aware of the realities of death.  Part of my job includes taking care of children who are dying.  And I do believe that God works in all sorts of ways – through medicine, through common sense, through the wisdom of others, but He also clearly asks us to exhibit faith and to not store our treasures here on Earth.

It’s like the boy scouts – Prepare for the worst, and hope for the best.  Maybe our paths crossed today so that you could think about whether you are taking the proper precautions and making adequate preparations.

Anyone who knows me (and granted, this gentleman does not know me beyond this encounter) would say I am someone who prepares.  I like plans.  I like to know things ahead of time.  I am also very aware of how my personality can prevent me from fully engaging in a trusting relationship with Christ.  It is an ongoing struggle for me to surrender my plans, my ways, and to fully rely on God.  I am the person in the group project that would so much rather just do it all myself, than to have to rely on someone else. 

I realize now that I never told him that Imani means faith.  Faith to me is believing in something without having the 100% satisfaction, money-back  guarantee.  Faith is not contingent on our circumstances or whether things turn out the way we want them to.  I believe that God is always present and at work in the world.  I trust that as I walk closely with Him, He will guide my steps, yet ultimately I will still be the one walking.  Sometimes when you are at a crossroads, you know for certain which road to take, and other times, I think God leaves decisions in our hands, continuing to be a part of our journeys no matter which path we take.

So my post-post office conversation thoughts….

1. Traveling to Kenya is a risk I am fully willing to take because God continues to put that call on my heart.  I have always experienced complete peace that whatever happens during my travels, I am exactly where I am supposed to be.  If I were going to die for something, it would be spending time in Kenya with people I love and care about.

2. I don’t want anything bad to happen.  I don’t think anyone really does.  I tend to be a scaredy cat.  It takes a lot for me to even want to jump off a diving board!  But I do not want my life to be dictated by fear.  I know this life has no guarantees, and the only safety I can count on is that life on Earth is only a small part of our story.

3. Safety and security is not the same as peace.  I do not believe God always promises safety, but He does promise peace and His continued presence.

And lastly….where would one even buy this bulletproof vest :)

ABC's

Homemade banana bread and a moment to blog.  I would say I am rather content.

I decided to walk to the post office today.  It's about a mile away, and the sky was clearing up after some morning rain.  A few things motivated this walk.  1. The post office is notorious for having a long line and putting people in a bad mood, and something about walking there gives me an unnatural amount of patience, as I am clearly not in a hurry.  2. The signs of spring are everywhere, and I am just loving the chance to soak it all in.  3. Good exercise....and more exciting than being on a treadmill.

The thought of making it a prayer walk ran through my head as I was grabbing the things I needed.  Historically, I associate prayer walks with organized church activities, and not the spontaneous, but intentional conversation with God that I experienced today.  I got this idea to pray through the alphabet....that I would just say a prayer for each letter as God brought someone or something to mind.  Here's a little recap.

A is for Anika, a friend who lives in Colorado.

B is for Birds, and a reminder of God's promise that if He cares about the details of the lives of the sparrows, how much more does He care about me?

C is for Coffee with Jenna this afternoon.

D is for Dad.

E is for Emily, my cousin in Kansas.

F is for Freedom, specifically the freedom to live a life for Christ without fear of persecution, and subsequently, I prayed for the many Christians around the world who do not have that luxury.

G is for Gifts, and how giving gifts is one of the ways we show love to others, and that gifts do not need to be flashy or expensive.  Gift giving is an art, a discipline, and a love language.

H is for Hadijah, one of my nurse friends in Kenya.

I is for Intentionality (which apparently is not even a real word??)  God reminded me that it is not better or worse to be intentional versus spontaneous - that either one can become an idol in our lives and prevent God from doing His work in us.  Being intentional can make us controlling, have unrealistic expectations of ourselves and others, and hold us in bondage.  At the same time, being spontaneous can make us apathetic, miss out on opportunities, and convey to others that we do not care.  Of course, on the flip side, being intentional allows us to be a good steward of our time and resources, and being spontaneous allows us to be sensitive to God's spirit.

J is for Joy, my aunt in Florida.

K is for Karlee, my friend in Seattle.

L is for Lighthouse, the name of a Rend Collective song that has been one of my anthems lately.  Listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JPtIv2lnkTY

M is for Mom.

N is for New, and all of the new things that God is doing in my life.

O is for Olivia, a friend in San Jose, who is coming to visit next week.  (I am just a LITTLE excited about it :)

P is for Pavement....the sidewalks, the paved roads, and more generally, the ease of transportation that so many people around the world do not experience.  So easy to take that for granted....

Q is for Quiet, and for learning to embrace the stillness and the silence.

R is for Restlessness, and for how it pushes me to step out in faith and ask hard questions and make changes.

S is for Spring, particularly all of the blossoms on the trees.

T is for Tenderloin, a part of San Francisco that is known for being in need of Jesus.  My sister is going to be doing an internship there this summer.  I know it will stretch her and make her uncomfortable at times, but I also know God is going to use her.

U is for Universal, and how God is the same all over the world.

V is for Vegetables, and how I am coming to appreciate them more in my home cooking adventures.

W is for Water....how I have clean water to drink from my tap (or I can afford to buy water), and running (& hot) water to shower in.  Every day.  Without going anywhere.

X is for eXtra.  I have always had more than I have needed.  I use to feel a lot of guilt about that, but I now just try to be a good steward of the things that I have been given.

Y is for Yesterday.  Thank you Lord for the my past and how that has brought me to the present.

Z is for Zoya.  She just went to San Francisco for her transplant.  Praying for her and her family as they embark on this next part of her treatment.

Amen.

Twenty Five

In the last hours of my 25th birthday, I wanted to share some thoughts and reflections.  I like lists, and it just seemed fitting to write 25 things.  So here it is, 25 things - a collection of lessons learned, experiences to remember, & words that have stuck to my heart.

1. There is something or someone worth celebrating every day.  You don't have to wait for a holiday or a party to embrace joy and celebration.


2. Travel awakens parts of your being that you didn't even know existed.  I travel, in part, for the ways in which it changes me.

3. Take time to burn the candles.

4. When you think I should really call/text/email {insert name here}, you really should.

5.  Sometimes the best thing you can do for someone is to just be there....and fight the urge to fill the silence with a lot of words.


6. Always practice gratitude.  Say "thank you" every chance you get.

7. For me, being in the kitchen, trying new recipes, and making food for people is both empowering and fulfilling.  It takes time, but it is time well-spent.

8. Star gaze.  It's a big world out there, and gazing up into the sky tends to put things in perspective.

9.  Don't be afraid to pack up your car and hit the road.  The two long solo road trips I have taken in the past couple years have been some of the best experiences of my life.  The silence is rejuvenating.

10. Play, laugh, hold, tickle, kiss the kids in your life.

11. Fill your home with things that have meaning and bring you joy.  Don't buy stuff just to have more stuff.  Create spaces that make people want to stay.

12. Invite God into every part of your life.  Even if you don't feel ready.

13. Coffee.  Smell it, savor it, and share with friends.

14. Don't dismiss things that scare you.  Take time to discern whether it may be God inviting you on a new adventure.

15. Read a good book every now and then.  Underline, highlight, write in the margins.  Share with friends.

16. It's always a good time to pray.  In the car.  In the shower.  In the middle of the night.  God's up, and ready to listen.

17. Practice being still and being quiet.  Ask God to speak, and be ready to listen.

18. Write cards, and send mail.  Real mail.  With stamps.  Sure fire way to put a smile on someone's face.

19. Take time to listen to the wisdom of those in your life.  God often speaks through your community.

20. Don't be afraid to let something go for the fear of never getting it back.


21. Share your story.  The good, the bad, the ugly.  You never know who needs to hear it, or how God will use it to touch someone else.

22. Cherish your friends.  Make an effort to invest in their lives, and to both rejoice and mourn alongside of them.

23. Siblings are one of God's greatest gifts.

24. Security is not the same as peace.  Seek to discern between the two.

25. Don't underestimate the power of doing small things with great love.  

Ode To Friendship

When I count my blessings, I count my friends twice.  A midst the hustle and bustle of life, the joys and sorrows, the triumphs and defeats, the fastballs, the curveballs, and quite frankly, the screwballs, it is my friendships that keep me afloat.  Friends have always played a leading role in my life.  I would say my very first friend was my neighbor Aaron.  He would come over and we would play house....he was the daddy and I was the mommy and we would push around my favorite baby doll, Baby Carrie, in the stroller.  Then I would go to his house, and we would eat saltwater taffy, watch Batman, and play with his dog, Ashes.  When he moved away (I was maybe 4 or 5?), it was my first heartbreak.  

Over the years, you come to know and befriend a lot of people.  There are all different types of friends.  You have your classroom friends, the ones you end up spending a ton of time with in school, your go-to's for all projects, and the recipients of the notes you pass during boring lessons.  You have your childhood friends, the children of your parents' good friends, the ones who live in your neighborhood, or the ones you just happened to meet at a really early age.  You have your activity friends, the ones on your softball team or in your youth group or who happened to join all the same clubs as you.  You have your sibling and cousin friends, who for better or worse (in my case, better) tend to be a part of your life forever.  You have your soul friends, those people who in the first five minutes of knowing them, you feel as though you have known them for many years.

Once you get a bit older, you add some other friend groups (co-workers, friends of friends, maybe mom friends or couple friends or the group you hang out with to watch a certain show).  The other thing that happens is you let some friends go...maybe because you moved or they moved, maybe life just happened and you naturally drifted apart.  Sometimes circumstances change, or you change and realize that there are some people who do not bring out the best in you.  At times, no one says anything, and the flame of the friendship slowly burns out, and other times, you have to put on your big girl panties and have that hard, awkward, and painful conversation.  Or maybe someone has that conversation with you, expressing how something you did or said hurt them deeply, and that they need space...maybe temporarily, or maybe for life.  You may, at that moment, feel that your heart has been broken, and that life as you know it will never be the same.  You are right - it will never be the same, but you will learn, you will grow, and you will make more friends along the way.  This I know to be true.

This is my ode to friendship, to the people in my life who I have shared laughter and tears, the times of celebration, the times of sorrow and grief.  This is to the people who know me in and out, and love me anyway.  These are the people I have studied with, traveled with, and lived with.  These are the people I would do anything for, who believe in my strengths and encourage me to pursue my passions, and who speak the truth and acknowledge my weaknesses.  These are the people who you don't talk to for weeks or months, and then when you do, it's as though no time has passed at all.  These are the people who not only remember your birthday, but spend it with you.  The people who buying gifts  for is not a chore because at any given moment, you can think of a dozen things they would love.  These are the people who sacrificed their time, their energy, their money for your sake during a season when you needed it most.  

Here's to little friends, who may be small, but have taught me so much about embracing all that life has to offer, not forgetting to make time to do the things you love, that God is big and good and strong and gentle all at the same time, and that you are never too old or too young to love others, to create new things, and to dream.  Here's to reading children's books, having snacks, splashing in the puddles, making snow angels, baking cookies, finger painting, collecting rocks and sticks and shells, and never really growing up.

Here's to work friends, the people who become your family during those long shifts at the hospital.  The people who don't just ask if you need help, but insist on answering your other call lights, running your lines, helping with a difficult task, or buying you coffee.  Here's to the people who not only support you during your time together at work, but really get to know who you are and what is important to you.  They support you...showing up for weddings and showers and fundraisers, serving as a tangible reminder that they see you as more than just a nurse, but as a holistic person.  The people you can share ANY story with no matter what, who understands your frustrations and why you might be in the med room crying.  


Here's to the friends that are also family.  The ones who initially are friends by default, but evolve into so much more.  The friends who make family gatherings enjoyable, and who become your partner in crime, your companion for the road, and the ones who you don't worry about whether or not they will still be around in a year or two.  

Here's to the friends who you may not see every day, but when you do see them, you can't imagine ever saying goodbye to them again!  The friends who make it a priority in their lives to visit you, and you them, even if it is inconvenient or expensive.  You do it because you know the pay-off is beyond worth it.  The friends who you laugh with so hard, people start to look and stare.  Of course, you don't care one bit.  The friends who everything you do with is an adventure, whether it is simply going to the grocery store or going to Disneyland.  The ones you spend several days with and suddenly wonder how you only took 2 photos, until you realize you were enjoying yourself WAY too much to even worry about capturing the moments for social media.  

Here's to the friends you call on the way home from work, or after a fight or breakup or when the world just seems too hard to handle.  These friends have seen you cry - makeup running down your face or no makeup at all.  They have seen you at your worst, when you can barely function, and cannot imagine how you will ever be okay again.  They patiently and lovingly take your hand and hold you close, maybe saying something reassuring or maybe nothing at all.  They are perfectly okay with you not being okay.  They are not intimidated by doubt or pain or life's hard moments.  They are all in, for better or worse.  They don't keep score or expect you to snap out of it.  They simply say "I'm here" and they mean it.

Here's to the friends who are your best teachers.  The friends that gently teach you so many life lessons just by spending time with them.  The ones who are not afraid to tell the truth or ask the hard questions.  The ones who push you to be better, and encourage you to take chances.  The ones who remind you that sometimes you have to face your fears, and do the thing the scares you most.  The ones who watch your transformation and at the end, they are there, celebrating the person you have become, and the journey it took to get there.

Here's to the friends who come from unlikely places, and who show up when you least expect it.  These friends remind you that God knows the things that we need, and that His timing, though so different from our own, is always better in the end.  These are friends who are not part of your day to day life, and who you may not see or talk to for extended periods of time, but the reunions and the reconnecting are always so life-giving.  These are the friends with no expectations, just gratitude for those beautiful moments when your paths do cross.

Here's to the siblings friends.  These are your siblings who have, over the years become your best friends.  The ones who can push all of your buttons and make you so mad at times.  The ones you actually cannot bear to stay mad with because you miss talking to them and laughing with them and sharing life with them.  The ones who have your back no matter what, but are not afraid to share with you how they REALLY feel.  The ones who serve as a witness to your entire childhood, and if you are lucky, continue to do so once you transition into adulthood.  The ones who you swear know you better than yourself at times.  The ones who you cannot bear to live without.

Here's to the roommate friends, the ones who know all of your little pet peeves and habits.  The ones who you come home to at the end of the day, the ones who know your schedule, the ones you have too many inside jokes to count.  The ones who you were a little worried that living together would change the dynamic of your friendship, but at the end, you are sad to move out.  Here's to 8 minute abs, watching guilty pleasure TV shows, to sticky notes on the walls, woodpeckers pecking into the bathroom, snow days, late nights, and lots and lots of coffee. 


Here's to the childhood friends, the ones you could sit and reminisce for hours about the things you did years ago.  The friends who came to all of your birthday parties.  The friends with whom you have traditions or things that you always do.  The friends who didn't change, even through the tumultuous times of junior high and high school, where friends seemed to change by the hour.   These friends you don't have to talk to every day to know that they will be there when you ask.  Any time you do get to see or talk to them is always a bonus, and sleepovers are a double bonus.  There is a sense of security in the length and depths of these friendships, and you rest assured that if you have been friends for this long, it will take a lot to get rid of them :)

Embrace friendship and all that it has to offer.  My life is richer, deeper, and so much more enjoyable thanks to my friends.


Disclaimer: These photos and descriptions of friends do not reflect and include all of the friendships in my life.  To do so would require a much, much longer blog post.

The Broken Ones

One of my favorite things to do is walk along the beach and search for shells, interesting looking rocks, sand dollars, etc.  I was blessed in that this year I got to spend both Christmas and New Year's near the beach.  This is a beach I grew up going to, and I have vivid memories of building sandcastles, braving the cold Pacific ocean waters, carefully walking along the pier in order to not lose my flip-flop in the cracks.  I can remember one trip the beach was covered in sand dollars, and I wanted to pick up every single one of them.  It felt like I had hit the jackpot - the thing that I would carefully search for and be lucky if I found even one, and that day the collecting seemed limitless!  I remember bringing home an entire bucket-full - not sure exactly what I was going to do with them, but could not bear to pass up such a rare occasion.

There had been a storm along the coast a few weeks prior, so the beach had more ocean debris on it than usual, mostly rocks, but also a fair amount of shells.  On New Year's morning, I headed down to the beach, though my visions of a peaceful walk along the beach were somewhat interrupted by people gathering for the Polar Plunge that was going to be taking place at noon.  I walked slowly, as I visually searched the sand, looking for something to catch my eye.  There were many portions of shells, but I wanted something that was not broken, or at least as close to whole as possible.  As I turned over more and more shells to determine if they were worth picking up, this thought dawned upon me:
Why won't I keep a broken one?  Why have I decided that a chip, a crack, a hole, or other imperfection means it is not worth anything?

Sure, I could have said, Oh Alyssa, this is just shells on a beach.  Of course, you want to pick up the ones that are the most attractive, the most pretty to look at.  But something inside me was very unsettled.  

Do I view other things in the world in this same way?  Do I view myself this way?  Am I worried that God combs the beach, only finding the beautiful, perfect ones worthy of His love?

It started when I was small.  I would pick up broken sand dollars, and someone would tell me, That one is broken, Let's see if we can find one that isn't.  A seemingly harmless comment, and typically later I would be able to find one that was not broken, or at least close to it.  Some beach-combing endeavors ended with no loot, nothing worthy of being kept - nothing that I would want to look back on. 

But this time was different.  I was not comfortable picking up broken shells.  More than that, I realized that I struggle to believe when I am broken, when I am not whole and put-together, that I am not going to be picked up.  That no one is going to look twice at me, much less pick me up.  I might get lucky if there are no other pretty shells on the beach, and be chosen by fault, but if there is a whole sand dollar lying next to me, forget it.

Why is it that when other people are feeling down and out, broken and despised, I am so quick to lead them to the feet of Jesus, and remind them of His abundant and limitless love, grace, faithfulness, forgiveness.  Yet I so often do not recognize, believe, and live in those truths for myself.

Do I believe that Christ would choose me, just as I am, broken and lying in the sand, a bit battered from the journey of life?  

And even more than that,

Do I believe broken is beautiful?  That it is good enough?  Can I accept the inevitable brokenness within myself - my faults, my failures, my shortcomings, and still believe I am worth it?

So I had a new mission.  Find something that was broken that I thought was beautiful.  I thought it would be easy after the above epiphany, but it was a struggle.  Sure, there were plenty of broken things to choose from.  I kept trying to convince myself that they were good enough - that I could pick up that broken shell and treasure it.  

I finally found one.  I picked it up and held it in my hand.  I could see it's beauty, but it was also that it was clearly broken.  Incomplete.  Imperfect.  Lacking.  But I love it.  I saw myself in it.  And I wanted it.  I chose it.  I deemed it worthy of being kept and treasured and cherished.

I am worth it.  I am treasured.  I am cherished.

Harvest of Hope

It was a whirlwind.  The anticipation leading up, the countless to-do lists, out of town guests, last minute errands and changes, a head cold in the midst.....and then it was Saturday.  We set everything up, and as I look at all of the beautiful tables and the room that would later be filled with people, it was the moment of Is this real life?  Am I really going to be standing and talking in front of 150 people?  How did I even get here?  And then the event began.

All things considered, everything went very well.  Yes, there were some hiccups, and it is easy to become fixated on those things as I evaluate the event.  But the truth it was a success.  Yes, financially, we were able to raise a good amount of money (hopefully will have the official total soon!).  We had a great turnout, almost double of last year.  All of the auction items were bid on.  The dessert dash was a hit.  Both Carol and my sister spoke very well.  Those are all great things.  Yet now, 10 days later, after getting some much needed rest and time to recuperate, I am just beginning to truly see some of the fruits that we harvested.  

I was writing some emails to each of the 3 clinics we support, and I was trying to capture the essence of the event in just a few sentences.  If I could tell them just one thing about the event, what would I say?  And the thing that I kept coming back to was now 150 people know you exist.  They heard the name of your clinic.  They saw some of the photos of your staff and your patients.  Your story was heard.  It gives me chills just writing this, because that is really incredible.  At the end of the day, Imani cannot raise enough funds to meet the vast and complex needs of the slums.  That is just a fact.  The reality is we are just a few drops in a large ocean.  But when I tell my friends in Kenya that 150 people came to our event and listened to their story - that means something.  That generates hope.  Having that personal relationship with the clinics we support is so important to me.  It makes those few drops of water mean something.  The money we raised isn't just going to Africa or to poor people.  It is benefiting Hadijah, the HIV moms group, Moses & Michael, Edwin, Andrew, Peter & Francisca.  And in turn, their sacrifice, their love, their commitment to serve their communities touches us, and alters how we perceive and interact with the world.

As 2014 is winding down, it is incredible to me to look at how God has provided and guided us this year.  Now comes the time where we ask for discernment and wisdom in what projects to fund, and how to best assist these clinics in a way that is helpful, but not crippling.  This is definitely one of the most challenging aspects of non-profit work.  I am continually learning and growing in this area, and most of what our board of directors does is wrestle with these difficult decisions.  We do plan to send funds so that each of the clinics can have a Christmas meal with their staff and some of the community members.  In the big scheme of things, this is a very small thing.  However, as I spoke with some of the people who attended this meal last Christmas, their eyes lit up as they reminisced about that day.  So it is worthwhile, as a shared meal with all the fixings brings joy and hope in the midst of a lot of despair.

I do not know what is in store for Imani in the months to come, but I am at peace.  God has always only shown me one stepping stone ahead....never more, never less.  It is a journey that has challenged and strengthened my faith, pushed me out of my comfort zone, brought me to my knees, moved me to tears, and ultimately left me humbled to be used by God in this way.  Thank you to all of you who have been a part of supporting Imani in so many different ways.  As I shared at the event, we cannot help everyone but we can help someone.  We cannot do everything, but we can do something.

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.