Paradox

I find Kenya to be something of a paradox.  It is a place of immense beauty – the greenery, the flowers, the friendly & hospitable people, the spirit of perseverance, the widespread hope.  And yet, it can be a place of despair – the extensive poverty, the wide gap between the have’s and the have not’s, the devastation of disease, the lack of infrastructure, the widows and the orphans.  Just as in America, it is not either or.  It is both.  Good and bad.  Joy and sorrow.  Beautiful and ugly. 

It is my fifth time here.  I still am a foreigner and a tourist by most accounts, and I will always be a mzungu (white person/Westerner).  Yet there are moments when I am acutely aware of how my coming back matters.  My Kiswahili is very minimal, yet even speaking a few words instantly breaks down barriers.  I am better able to recognize and articulate cultural norms, and tend to see more similarities with the Kenyans I meet than differences.  Sometimes I stare at the world on a map and think of how there are so many places in the world that I want to visit.  And then I think how will that ever happen when I am always saving my time and resources for another trip to Kenya.  This is a selfish view, of course – one that is focused more on a bucket list than on God’s calling or building relationships.  Luckily, every time I return to Kenya, God changes my heart, and gives me renewed eyes.  I regain the ability to see His hand at work, and my small role in it. 

 

I realize taking on the mantra “small things, great love” or “dream big” runs the risk of becoming cliché.  Yet I find both of those phrases to be more than just a nice saying or something to put on a T-shirt.  In the grand scheme of things, the work Imani is doing in Kenya is small.  We are not eradicating diseases, alleviating poverty, or providing clean water.  Yet in our few days here, we have witnessed how small things can change the course of one’s life.  One of the boys who was given the task of killing Andrew, the founder/director of Makina clinic, was offered the chance to have a life outside of drugs and violence.  He ended up being our “bouncer,” showed us around Nairobi city centre, and works at the clinic as security.  We met a lady who is one of the home-care clients at Makina.  She is a widow, cares for 8 children, and is HIV+, but has been doing well on ARVs (anti-retrovirals, treatment for HIV) and makes a small income selling groundnuts.  One of the children we met at the Children’s Home was found in a sewer, but is now clothed, fed, and taken care of.  The trajectory of these individuals’ lives, and many others like them, are not small things.  By supporting places like Makina, Imani plays a role in these stories.

I am blessed to be here.  There are challenges, yes, but ones that I will gladly take on to be able to express to our partners and friends that we value the work they do and desire to have a relationship.  Sure, it is not easy to travel all the way over here, to arrange housing and transportation, to become accustomed to the time change, the food, the culture – but it really is the only way to live out the “partnership” part of our mission.  We often say we desire to “come alongside” the Kenyans, and it means something to physically be here.  To stand next to them.  To walk the roads they walk.  To eat the foods they eat.  To laugh together.  To share.  To pray.  To love.

To all of you following this, and to all of those supporting Imani, I say Asanta sana, Kiswahili for “thank you very much.”

Goodbye Craycroft

Well, it is over.  Somehow the past three years completely flew by, and I just cannot really believe it.  My co-workers completely spoiled me - a delicious, Mexican-themed potluck, a gorgeous and tasty chocolate cake Maria made, a thoughtful card and gift, and lots of laughs, hugs, and fake crying/whining :)  I love these people.  We have seen each other at our best and our worst.  We have met and cared for some amazing kids.  We have worked together in life-threatening emergencies. We have learned and grown into better healthcare providers.  We have attended funerals.  We have laughed, and we have cried.  Thank you for loving and caring for me until the end.  You are a hard bunch to leave.

Working on Craycroft (the name of the my unit, which houses a mix of oncology, hematology, nephrology, and endocrinology patients) was a gift.  It was a paradox most of the time.  Challenging and enjoyable.  Exhausting and rewarding.  Heart-breaking and life-changing.  There were nights when I left and cried the whole way home.  There were shifts where I left with my heart filled to the brim, unable to imagine doing anything else as a job.  But mostly it was somewhere in between.  One thing that never fluctuated was the support, encouragement, and teamwork of my co-workers.  I could not have asked for a better group of people to work with.  I know there will be nursing jobs out there for me, jobs that I may even love, but I will never be able to replace the people I have worked with.  The following is a collection of lessons learned, memories made, and a little humor (okay sarcasm) in between.  Disclaimer: If you do not work on Craycroft, you may not fully appreciate this.  

Things I Will Not Miss

• A new fever in the middle of the night with a double lumen Broviac
• Floating!!!
• Working on nights when Starbucks isn't open and resorting to cafeteria coffee
• When patients (or their parents) use the call light like a game show buzzer
• Bedside monitors when they are completely unnecessary
• Resident orders.
• Calling certain doctors at night....I won't name any names.....
• Getting a call from lab that you screwed something up
• PEWS
• The smell of Cefepime pee or C diff poop
• When Meditech goes down
• Upstream occlusion with bubbly fluids.  

Things I Learned

• Sometimes there are no words you can say to the parents, but you willingness to stand there in that silence means a lot
• Kids are incredibly resilient and do beat odds.
• There is no good reason why kids die from cancer.
• Patience.  Lots and lots of patience.
• Teamwork and not keeping score.  You never know when you are going to need someone to help you out.
• I am capable of far more than I ever thought I was.
• Stressful situations magnify everything.   I have seen them bring some people together, and tear others apart.  
• When in doubt, ask for a second opinion.  Or third.  There are no stupid questions (okay there are a FEW stupid questions :)
• Having co-workers you trust and respect makes a huge difference.
• Emergency situations suck, but they remind you that you really do play a role in saving lives.
• Life is precious - don't take it for granted.

You Know You Work in Craycroft When....

• you go to other units and cannot stand the beeping monitors and that everyone is on isolation.
• the charge nurses are the best - willing to help out, available, and have your back.
• it is normal for all the kids to be bald.
• giving blood, platelets, and chemotherapy are daily occurrences.
• only a handful of people are comfortable starting a peripheral IV because everyone has central lines.
• you just have to laugh about families requesting "a room with a better view" 
• the plan of care is dictated by the patient's hemoglobin, platelets, and ANC
• you have attended patients' funerals.
• everyone works together - answering call lights, admitting patients, responding to emergent situations, etc.
• you have the best co-workers ever.

It's been a good go.  Goodbye Craycroft.

Why I Make Jam

I have made jam probably a total of 6 times.  Although no one formally taught me, growing up, I remember receiving homemade jam from my grandma and my Aunt Sandra.  When I went berry-picking one summer I lived in Seattle, I had more raspberries than I knew what to do with.  The idea of making jam surfaced, but after some initial research, I realized I was not prepared to actually can jam, and settled for freezer jam instead.  But I vowed that it was a skill I would one day acquire.  Not long after, I saw a Groupon deal for a home canning class, and before I knew it, I was sitting in a class with mostly women 2-3 times my age, learning the basics of canning.  I loved it.  I took notes, careful to remember all the tips the instructor offered, as she effortlessly prepared jam in the front of the room.  After class, I immediately went to the store and bought the basics – a large pot, some mason jars, a funnel that perfectly fits on top of the jar, and a “jar grabber” to pull the jars out of the boiling water. 

So one night during my senior year of college, I was desperate to do anything that wasn’t studying or writing care plans.  Most would probably go out for the evening, making plans with friends.  I decided I was going to make jam.  And in our tiny apartment kitchen, I did.  It was not a seamless, effortless process.  I was unorganized and inefficient.  But I made jam.  By myself.  And the moment I heard that first jar properly seal with a little “pop” – the time consuming, tedious process in the hot, tiny kitchen was all worth it.

Fast forward to this past month.  I knew I would be moving.  I knew I would be leaving work.  And I knew I had quite a bit of frozen fruit, just ready to be made into a delicious batch of jam, waiting in my freezer.  I decided I would make jam as a gift to my night shift co-workers, a way to say goodbye and I love you and here’s something to remember me by.  I knew it would be another one of my projects, and require time and energy I really did not have a lot of, but that did not deter me.  I would make jam.

Outside of work, I am known as being the nurse.  At work, we are all nurses, so we have to distinguish each other by other characteristics.  In addition to being the girl who goes to Africa, I am known for baking things, not using my AC, drinking a lot of coffee, and making jam.  Writing that makes me smile.  Growing up, I always felt I did not have any noteworthy talents or abilities – at least nothing that could be showcased in a talent show.  I did not sing, dance, or act – and my athletic abilities were mediocre at best.  I wish I could tell 12-year-old Alyssa not to worry, that our passions and gifts and things that fill us with joy are not limited to performances or sporting events.  The world needs dancers and actors and athletes and leaders and intellectuals – but they also need care-givers, travelers, risk-takers, and jam-makers.

Making jam takes commitment.  It requires a fair amount of planning and preparation.  Each time I make it, I become a little more efficient, and slightly more confident.  The process is a sensitive one – each step building on the success of the previous one.  There is a lot of waiting – for things to boil, for things to cool off, for the timer to go off, but it is absolutely worth the wait.  Being a part of the entire process, from start to finish is incredibly rewarding.  Looking at the finished product sitting on the counter is the best high.  I made that.  I created something that will be enjoyed both now, but also for months to come. 

I partook in an activity that people have been doing for years and years.  Canning used to be a necessity, a way to ensure food during the winters, to bottle up the best of the harvest to be enjoyed throughout the year.  Sure, we can now just run to the grocery store and choose from dozens of products on the shelf.  For just a few dollars, you can save yourself a ton of time and energy and often even money.  But in my opinion, you miss out on a beautiful, creative experience.  The chance to make something, the end product nothing less than a work of art in my mind. 

And so, I made 35 jars of jam this past week – strawberry, strawberry nectarine, and strawberry apricot.  I kept one jar for myself; the rest will be distributed to my fellow night-shifters.  A small token of my appreciation for their support, guidance, reassurance, and companionship the past few years.  I cannot think of a more jam-worthy bunch. 

So why do I make jam?  To create.  To invest time and resources into a process that ends with a delicious treat to enjoy and to share with the people I love.  Homemade jam does not say I picked up this generic gift last minute out of obligation.  It screams I put my heart and soul and sweat and the better half of my morning into this precious jar – guard it!  Savor it!  Enjoy it!  I made this for you because I specifically thought about you and how you would enjoy this.  You matter!  You are worth it!  

Letter to Imani

April 27, 2015

Dear Imani Family,

I want to share some upcoming changes that will be taking place in my life, and how those will affect Imani Care International.  After months of deliberation, considering pro’s & con’s, prayer, and seeking the wisdom of others, I have made the decision to relocate to Seattle, WA.  (I previously lived in Seattle from 2008-2012 while I attended university.)  There are a number of reasons behind this decision, but ultimately, it came down to choosing the place I felt would allow me to best pursue my passions, re-prioritize, and live amongst a community in a similar life stage.  I have given notice at work, and my last day at Valley Children’s will be June 1.  I will then travel to Nairobi, Kenya, and as I will not be employed at the time, I am taking advantage of the opportunity to spend 6 weeks there.  As we partner with three clinics, having a few extra weeks than originally planned in-country will allow me to spend ample time with each clinic.  I will return to Fresno at the end of July, and physically move to Seattle sometime at the beginning of August.

What does this mean for Imani?  There are still many unknowns, but I can assure you that Imani is not going anywhere.  It will continue to operate as a tax-exempt, charitable organization in the state of California.  Eventually, I would like to pursue adding Washington as a state of operation, but Imani’s home base will remain California.  The board of directors will continue to physically meet through the end of 2015.  In 2016, board meetings will likely be a combination of conference calls, Skype, and meeting in person.  We will still have our annual event, Harvest of Hope, as planned this fall.  It will be on Saturday, November 14 at the Clovis Veteran’s Memorial Building.  Our mailing address will continue to be our P.O. Box in Clovis.

It is my hope that this move will eventually allow me to spend more of my time and energy on Imani.  It has become increasingly difficult for me to work full-time night shifts at the hospital while running a non-profit.  I will continue to work for profit outside of Imani, but hopefully, I will have the opportunity to work fewer hours in a less demanding position.  I would love to see Imani continue to flourish and grow, and expand our community in the Seattle area.  I look forward to being in a city that is a hub for global health, and provides many networking opportunities.

I so appreciate your encouragement and prayers during this season of change.  As with most major decisions, it is bittersweet.  It will be difficult to leave my job, and to leave the security of the life I currently live in California.  I am more than willing to answer any questions or curiosities you may have.

Thank you for your continued support of Imani.  What started as a crazy dream has grown to be a thriving organization that is impacting the lives of those living in the slums of Nairobi.  I look forward to sharing with you after I return from Kenya this summer.

Blessings & Gratitude,

Alyssa Singh

Executive Director, Imani Care International

Bittersweet

Bittersweet.  I think it is fitting that this is not only the title of my favorite book, but also the only word that seems to even begin to capture the expanse of emotions I am wading through.  There is joy and excitement and anticipation….for new adventures, for reunions with friends, for the prospect of something new.  The chance to take my hand of cards, return them to the deck, shuffle, and see what the new hand will be.  Of course, this is scary, too.  The unknown, the questions I have no answers to, the risk factor.  Yet I must take this step of faith.  Because of this:

It’s not hard to decide what you want your life to be about.  What’s hard, she said, is figuring out what you’re willing to give up in order to do the things you really care about.

–from Bittersweet, by Shauna Niequist

So what am I even talking about, you may be asking yourself.  Well, here’s the short version:

I am moving back to Seattle.  I am going to leave my current nursing job on June 1, move out of my apartment, spend 6 weeks in Kenya, and then physically move to Seattle. 

What the short version leaves out is the long process of coming to that decision.  The weighing of the pro’s and con’s.  The roller coaster of emotions.  Searching for the courage to face my fears and take a chance, without knowing all the details.  Trusting that God has a plan, even if I cannot see it.  The pre-mature mourning of leaving my work family and the security of having a good job with a comfortable income.  The prospect of once again being able to share daily life with friends who are in a similar life stage.  The hope of being able to give Imani more time and energy.  The sadness of leaving my family, when being near to them has been such a blessing the past few years. 

When I made a pro/con list back in January, I listed everything I could possibly think of.  In the end, it was dead even.  A tie.  Completely neutral.  I kept praying for God to give me a sign, to show me the way, to slam one door in my face and fling another wide open.  Instead, I got to the crossroads, with two paths to choose from, and the sense that I got to choose.  That this was not a right versus wrong type of decision.  I had to decide which path I wanted to take, and trust that God would continue to work in my life either way.  It was tempting to just surrender, and decide to stay put.  To not chance it.  Why give something up when there was no guarantee that things will be better somewhere else? 

It came back to this – what’s hard is figuring out what you’re willing to give up in order to do the things you really care about. 

The things that I really care about: authentic, deep relationships; Imani and Kenya and the slums; being a part of a community; caring for other people; loving people as Christ loved us; having people over and feeding them; writing; children; travelling.

What am I willing to give up to build my life upon that foundation?  Are the things I really care about where I am currently investing the majority of my time, my skills, and my resources?  I think the most honest answer was “kind of.”  Sure, I occasionally have people over for dinner.  I spend a lot of time on Imani on my days off.  My job allows for a lot of care-giving and opportunities to show love.  Yet I also spend a lot time recovering.  A lot of time “vegging” because of the constant stress, flip-flopping of schedules, lack of sleep, and juggling two jobs.  A lot of working stretches with few days off in between in anticipation of a trip or event.  Not a lot of balance.  More of a go-go-go, crash, go-go-go, crash.  I want the ebb and flow of my life to be less tumultuous. 

Moving to Seattle is not going to change the pace of my life.  It will not magically have less stressors, or change my desire to want to push the limits.  But the act of moving, the act of relocating is kind of like a reset button.  A chance to start over a little bit – to bring forward some pots that have been on the back burner long enough.  To rearrange.  To re-prioritize.  I think it is the perfect time for this….my roots are not so deeply embedded that I cannot be transplanted. 

As the fear and anxiety creep in, I must remember the words I have heard many times in the past months: this does not have to be forever, and “you can always come back.”

I am so grateful for the almost 3 years of being back in California post-college.  I have gotten to live with and spend so much quality time with my parents and my sister.  I have worked at an amazing place with an incredible group of co-workers.  I got to start Imani, and watch it flourish and grow in ways I never expected.  And if those things were not enough, I got to travel and go on many adventures.  I do not take any of that for granted.    

So I will smile, and I will cry.  I will laugh, and I will get scared.  There will be celebration, and there will be mourning.  There will be joy, and there will be sadness.  I will embrace the bittersweet nature of this time.

Bittersweet is the idea that in all things there is both something broken and something beautiful, that there is a sliver of lightness on even the darkest of nights, a shadow of hope in every heartbreak, and that rejoicing is no less rich when it contains a splinter of sadness.

                                                                       –from Bittersweet, by Shauna Niequist

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.