Mission Impossible

Now this is a story that actually builds from another story... but for time's sake, I think I will only post the second half. For it is in the second half of the story that things get interesting, and as it can stand alone, I do not wish to bore my readers with a long introduction.

Three interns, including myself were driving home from Joska on Thursday evening. We had picked up Victory from school and we were crunched on time to get back to the house, shower, and then meet a short term missions team for dinner on the other side of town. Actually we had a target time of showering and being ready in 15 minutes.

When we arrived at the gate we found it locked as usual. We gave a tug on the horn to inform Elizabeth that we were home and she should come open the gate. After two minutes with no response we decided to call her. As it turns out she was in class and unable to come home. But she had left the keys inside, so all we needed to do was scale the wall.

This wall isn't like chain-linked fences back home. It is concrete cinder blocks with broken glass on top! But, where the gate is, despite the piercing metal arrows, it is more approachable. It wasn't too long until that little-kid energy took over and I remembered just how I would do it back in the day.... A little running start, pick a nice place for the hands, swing the leg, and hope the landing was soft and sweet. No problem... or so I thought.

In-fact it was a very big problem. Where as we had though we were just locked out of the compound, it turns out that we were locked out of the house as well. I called Elizabeth, "Where are the keys?!!?" Her response confused me. "They are in the Kitchen." I am not a thief, nor do I have any experience of breaking into houses, but even if I did, breaking into a Kenyan home is much different than an American one. Here everything is reinforced with iron rods. The doors are double locked with padlocks, then two iron rods lock into place so that only someone on the inside can open them. Then there are the windows. All of the windows are glass... with an iron grate!!! Even if the windows were unlocked, there would be no way to squeeze my body through the narrow opening unless I was skinnier than a four year old. That's it! Where was Dave, our sweet adorable 4 year old adopted brother?

We ran out of the compound and towards his school. Luckily he was still there playing on the playground with his friend. We called him over to the fence and asked him if Spiderman could help us. At the mention of his pseudonym he became excited. He looked at us with his four-year old eyes, full of understanding and great commitment, "Spiderman can do it!" he responded. Thrilled, we lifted up part of the wire surrounding the playground and had Dave crawl under. We had no time to walk all the way around and have him officially exit the school. No, we kidnapped little Spiderman so that he could aid us in our dire situation.

While we ran/walked back home, Dave was a bundle of excitement -I can spin my webs and climb walls -I can do anything. "Spiderman, Spiderman, does whatever a spider can," he sang all the way home. And soon my own spirits rose with the confidence of this four year old boy.

Upon reaching the house we found an open window and we hoisted Dave up. His lithe little body slipped through the window and then landed with a soft thud on the other side. Once inside he poked his little head up and spoke in a rushed whisper, "ok, now what is my mission?" "Find the keys Dave, find they keys!" we replied in an equally harsh whisper. "I'm on it," we heard as his little feet turned and ran towards the kitchen.

What happened next could only be accomplished by spiderman. Here was Dave -or I should more correctly call him Spidy, scaling the cabinets and searching frantically for lost keys. For those hard to reach places he had brought in back up -a trusty stool to hoist him up. It was only a matter of time before he spotted them, "There!" he cried with exuberant satisfaction. "I have found the keys!"

And so he had, and our worries about canceling dinner were obliterated with the help of Spiderman. Thanks Spidy!

The Encounter

The Encounter. It sounds much more terrifying than it really was. If I were to label this experience in movie terms, it would me much more of an "edge of your seat, thriller (that only lasts about 5 minutes!)."

I was eating lunch down in the kitchen on Friday afternoon (I had stayed home from work because I was sick that day, with some mysterious disease that took my voice along with my energy). I was just about to head upstairs when I heard scurrying from the living room. Interested, I poked me head around the corner to see what it was. The scurrying stopped so I decided to boldly press on in the direction of where I had last heard the noise. As I approached the living room the cutest little creature popped its little head out from behind the couch and scuttled across the room. When it saw me it stopped dead in its tracks, as did I, then the two of us had a staring competition for about a minute (I think it noteworthy to mention that I won this stare-down). Soon he started leaping towards the windows in a desperate attempt to leave the room. His efforts were thwarted by the curtains that delicately covered the window. I was so sure that he was going to tear them down with his efforts that I forgot my fear of this being a wild animal and I ran towards him.

My efforts to divert his attempt of destroying the house worked, but I hadn't thought about the fact that he might run towards me in the chaos of it all. And that's exactly what happened. As the cute -yet still potentially dangerous creature -ran past, I let out a yelp -or at least I would have if I'd had a voice.

He darted from one room to the next trying to find his escape. All the while I am wrestling with trying to figure out what kind of creature this is. It is neither mouse nor squirrel, but perhaps something of a mix? Its not a lemur, for it was far too small -Ahhh -be on the look out he is still running around the house! I went to the back door and opened it. We must have been thinking along the same wavelength, because as soon as that fresh air hit his little nose, he raced out of the door way and disappeared into the field.

I would have wished to keep him a little longer, just to find out what kind of animal he really was, but this impulse of mine was completely selfish. I am glad he is gone back to his home -perhaps back to his family. I am not really sure where he is at, but I am glad he came by for a little visit. Next time he drops by, I should hope not to act so skittish. He really is an adorable little creature, and I would like to him to feel comfortable in the house -just so long as it is a short visit!

Some things that I haven’t gotten used to, nor do I think I ever will

There are some things in Kenya that I seem to have adopted. For example, saying ‘some few’ for just about anything. I have ‘some few’ minutes of credit on my phone. I ate ‘some few’ mangoes today (in reality its more like ‘some many!’), there are ‘some few’ children patting the hairs on my arm. There is also the tendency to talk with a lot more inflection. It is the Kenyan way to swing their sentences so that they will come to the last word, pause before speaking, and nod their head like they want you to say that word with them. Yup, sometimes I catch myself doing that. Also, I have found myself wearing jeans and a sweater during the early mornings. And I’m not covering up simply for cultural reasonings, but because I am legitimately cold –and its 70degrees! I also say ‘vege-tables,’ ‘moe-squite-o’s,’ and ju’iece (for juice).

But for all of the things I have adopted, there are more things I don’t think I will ever get used to. For example: hot milk with cereal, killer dogs that guard the compound at night, roosters with abnormal circadian rhythms, or guards with machine guns. The ice-cream here tastes more like whip cream, people prefer “tomato sauce” to ketchup (tomato sauce being this really watery neon orange/red version of ketchup), and arriving one hour late is perfectly acceptable here in Kenya. No one throws trash in a receptacle, personal-space is a foreign word, and if you don’t like chai then there is something wrong with you.

There are some things in Kenya that I don't think I will ever know –like why do mutates make four lanes of traffic out of two, why every sidewalk only last for a total of 2meters before ending it a significant hole, and why Kenyans only put in enough fuel to get them to work in the morning? Well, life is a mystery, I guess that’s what makes it exciting. 

What am I worried about?

It is a huge change, a drastic change, a change so abrupt I can’t believe I hadn’t seen it before. I have been reaping the benefits of this change for almost 4 months without ever confirming in my mind the reason for such change.

The difference comes from living a low-stress life since moving to Kenya. The weight of worry has been lifted from my chest and I have been able to move about my day without little ‘pings’ of worry constantly popping into my head. Ironically I had to move to halfway across the world to be freed of the weight, but I now know that this satisfying relief doesn’t have to come with such drastic measures.

This morning in Sunday service the message was about worry. I liked how the definition of worry was simplified to a “preoccupation with tomorrow.” Worry works in opposition of prayer. Where prayer makes our troubles smaller, worry tends to magnify those same difficulties.

Now I don’t really want to detail the entire message, so I would encourage everyone to read Matthew 6. While we might not have the same worries as the people did during Jesus’ day, the same principle applies –why worry? Do we not have faith?

This message came at such an appropriate time because it reminded me of a story I wanted to share with you, a story of worry and faith.

The growth that has occurred in Missions of Hope over the past few years has been astronomical. In the year 2000, there were only 50 students, and today there are almost 6,000 –just to give you a rough estimate of how fast this mission is taking off. With the rapid influx of children, numerous buildings have had be constructed…. a task much different than what one might expect in the States. I was talking to Mary (the director of Misisons of Hope) the other night about how she was doing. Here recently she has been out late with numerous meetings, traveling for funerals, comforting family that is in the hospital, finding high schools to accept all of the graduating 8^th graders, and she has also been in-charge of orchestrating the construction chaos. I have seen her pushed to the max, and yet each morning she is rejuvenated with a strength that can only come of God (because I know its not from the 4-6 hours of sleep she get every night)

Her response to my inquisition was one of displeasure, but also one of hope. The construction accounts had been quickly dwindling, and all construction was to end at the end of the week unless they were able to pay the workers for the supplies used (it works differently here in Kenya –workers work and buy all the supplies, the purchases are then complied and they are reimbursed by the end of the week). In any case, the account was at a meager 285,000/= or about $3,500. “I know our God will come through –He always does.” And that next morning, like every morning she prayed what was on her heart. Everything works on God’s time –sometimes its slow, and sometimes its fast –and sometimes its answered even before we pray!

In this case, God answered Mary’s prayer immediately, and in a way only He can do. A few hours after Mary had opened up to me, I found out that a couple from Oregon had just made a donation to MoHI; just a small contribution of $100,000!!!! When Mary found out you can imagine the commotion that she started –and her ecstasy was contagious. Tears streamed down her face and as she wept all she could say is, “I serve a mighty God who has heard my prayer. He is so faithful.” He is a God who knows the concerns of our heart before we even pray.

So now jumping back to my own life –I just want to make mention of how much different life can be when we do not let worry have control of us. I have let stress run my life before; I have spent countless hours toiling away with worrisome thoughts, and yet none of those hours have ever mounted to anything productive. Worry is a waste of life, but still I worried. Now that I look back on it, it seems somewhat silly –the problems that I had were so insignificant when compared to others. For example, I worried over grades, where I was going to live, what summer job I was going to find, my running performance, school applications, I would even fret about making sure I didn’t ignore my family. We all have our worries, and those worries seem to consume our life, at least for a certain season. But have you ever met someone who doesn’t break under what would be classified as a stressful situation? Have you met someone whose girth is made up of something much stronger than optimistic character?

People whose character is reinforced with faith persevere through trials. They are not burdened by their own worry. For they take care of what they can today, and let God take care of tomorrow. What I have noticed is that living with Mary and Wallace produces a totally different atmosphere than what I was used to in the States. Their ease of mind and complete reliance on God is not only a relief but it is also an encouragement to pursue the same. For the past four months I have felt at ease, confidently knowing that the Lord knows my requests. He knows my heart better than I do, and so when I think about how much he loves me, I know he will make a way.

I am blessed to live in a place where I am reminded of this promise every day. Every day I encounter a situation in which God’s grace and His provision are blatant: HIV/AIDS patients who were once bed ridden now lead Bible studies, children with abusive parents find grace with new families, street boys whose who sniff glue are reconciled to Christ, the woman who was to be evicted from her home now has a job so she can pay her rent for all of her family. Day in and day out God reveals his good grace.

The difference between Kenya and America is our devotion. The reason I wasn’t able to fully rely on God was because my first devotion was not to him, but to myself. I was devoted to school, devoted to running, devoted to my family –so much that I sought control over those things. But God says to seek first the Kingdom of God. “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” God has an agenda for this world, and it might not be our own.

I am surrounded by people who make Christ their first devotion, and I see what a difference it makes. The only way that we can find victory over worry is if we surrender our will to the Lord. There is victory in surrender because His will is supreme and our power over the future is non-existent. So why not surrender to the one who loves us and cares for us? Why not turn in our worries for a promise of hope? It will be a change –a drastically enormous, monumentally extraordinary change, but it’s worth it!