Everyone Has a Story

As I have traveled through this life, I have met some very interesting people along the way. I have talked and discoursed with long-hairs, short-hairs, republicans and democrats, conservatives and liberals, poverty-stricken and filthy-rich. I have talked with people from all over the world, and even lived in some of their cultures. What I have learned from all these interactions is that everyone has a story. Some are tame and mild, others are outrageous and wild. Some stories tell of great tragedy and pain, while others are full of victory triumph. Some have straight and clean paths, while others somehow face every obstacle under the sun. What is so interesting to me, though, is that you just never know what a person's story is from looking at the person alone. That old saying of "don't judge a book by it's cover" is just so true. You just never know what a person has gone through, or is going through, to be where she is today. What I have also learned, though, is that even if you do know a person's story, it may give you an insight into what the picture of the life has looked like, but it does not tell you how the heart has held up in response to it all. That's a different story altogether.

I have become thoroughly convinced through the years that God wants us to tell our stories, because ultimately, they are His stories. It is through these stories of our lives that His character is revealed and we meet Him afresh and anew with experience in our lives. It is also through these stories that we remember what He has done for us, how far He has carried us, how He has healed and changed our own lives.

Have you ever noticed how many names of God there are throughout Scripture? Whenever an event would happen in Scripture, the people involved would name God based on the characteristic that was revealed, based on who He was to them at that point in time. Maybe He is Elohim (the Creator) at one point, and then Qanna (Jealous) at another. Maybe He is El Roi (the God who sees) to the woman who has been cast out, or Jehovah-Jireh (the Lord will Provide) to the woman who is struggling to make ends meet. I have come to realize that Scripture is full of so many different names of God, as there is no one name that is big enough to encompass all that is God, other than to simply acknowledge YHWH in how He called Himself, I AM THAT I AM.

When we tell our stories of God, when we tell the history, or rather His Story, of our lives, we share with others the character of God and the ways that He has revealed Himself to us, that others may know Him and recognize Him as He reveals Himself to them.

And so I will slowly begin to tell my story, mostly for my benefit, so that I may take a look back and remember how far God has brought me. There are many days that I battle with discouragement, wondering if I have grown at all. And so it is through this remembering that I may see the path I have traveled, and see the wonders of the Lord and how His hand has worked. I don't know how long it will take to get it out, but slowly, and patiently, I will lay it all out there. Well, maybe not all...we'll see what it brings.

Feel free to journey with me. It might not all be pretty. Let me rephrase. It is not all pretty. There are parts that are downright ugly. But there is nothing that Jesus touches that He does not turn to beauty, no ashes left behind. And so there is no shame in the path that was taken, only praise that He did not leave me there.

What about you? Have you thought about the story of your journey? How far has God brought you?

Standing Together

In the summer of 2008, I had the incredible opportunity to teach Bridges for Women to a small group of Kenyan ladies in Western Kenya. Bridges for Women is a curriculum put together by a non-profit organization called Scriptures in Use, and we, being Unite 4 Africa, use the curriculum as part of the trainings for church planting movements. It trains women to use their relationships and natural storytelling abilities in telling Bible stories, verbatim. It focuses on addressing the issues that women face on a day-to-day basis, by telling Scriptural stories about women in the Bible. So the course trains women to memorize stories, word for word from the Bible, and become storytellers to those around them, choosing to tell a story that will address the specific need of women.

We have received incredible feedback from the women who were trained 2 years ago, and several of them have gone on to train many other women across Kenya and even into Sudan. Two incredible women from that first batch of ladies are part of the Unite 4 Africa Women's Leadership Team in Kenya. They have been very busy, training groups of ladies in community after community. While we were in the communities of Noosikitok and Molo, I had the incredible opportunity of following up with the ladies who had been trained there. What an awesome time of fellowship and learning!

These ladies shared with us their challenges and struggles, what it means to be a woman in their tribe. They tend to the goats, sheep and chicken, and they tend to the children and maintenance of the home. The women of the Maasai tribe are responsible for actually building the home (hut). They fetch the water, cook the meals, and wash the clothes. And before you start thinking that it sounds like your list of chores as well, they walk a great distance for the water source, wash all clothes by hand at that far away water source, and cook the meals over a wood fire. Very labor intensive work.

Most of the women talked about the lack of support from their husbands or the men in their village to be a part of a church. We had noticed as well, the previous Sunday at the local church, the men were glaringly absent from the service, but the women were there just praising. We were told that their men actually accuse them of committing prostitution at the church, because they only ever see women and children go there, so they have reasoned that the church must be a house of prostitution. Talk about a disheartening view of the church.

But the men of these communities have historically been beaten down and judged by the church, condemned for their traditional tribal practices and looked down upon by missionaries who had gone before. The men truly want nothing to do with the church. So some of the women face great persecution for going to church, facing beatings from their husbands when they return home for not being in the house to take care of things there.

And yet they persist.

We learned that virtually all of the women of these regions are illiterate. They are hoping for more for the upcoming generation, but the threats and challenges to participating in an education system are very real (such as lions in the bush). The women who were trained in this storytelling method are the few among their tribe who are able to read, and now they feel such great empowerment to teach others the stories of Scripture. To see their hearts rejoice over the ability to tell other ladies about the Word of God was so encouraging!

And there were a few ladies in the groups that I met with who are not able to read. For me, their testimony was more powerful than any other, like a new world of hope had been opened up to them and they could not find the strength to contain their overwhelming gratitude. Suddenly they too could learn about Jesus. And not only be fed, but they could write the Word up on their hearts and turn around to feed others. You could see such pride and empowerment in them, like their hearts were just going to swell right out of their chests.

One lady, so stoic and beautiful, said with great poise and dignity, "Before we knew God, He loved us. And then He sent someone to tell us. Now we tell others."

That touched my heart so profoundly. Tears welled up in my eyes. She just nailed it. I mean really, isn't that the case for every single one of us? At some point, we did not know the incredible love and favor of God, but someone came and told us, and then we discovered that He loved us all along. Isn't that Scripture?

But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves

We love because he first loved us.

So one by one, the ladies went around the room and shared something of who they are, what challenges they are facing, how the storytelling is impacting (or not) themselves and the community around them. It was so exciting and humbling and overwhelming and grieving, and so many emotions all mixed up in one big beautiful ball of love for my sisters. I sat listening to them, amazed that I had the privilege of calling them sisters. Truly.

After listening to each of the ladies present talk about their experiences after having been taught the storytelling principles, the chairlady of the group turned to me, very matter-of-fact, and said, "Now you have heard our challenges and problems. How will you fix them?"

Huh?

Didn't see that one coming. Oh Jesus, give me words.

When communities are open and vulnerable to talk about the issues that they face, the reality is that it has taken generations upon generations to get them where they are now. Whether good or challenging. It did not happen overnight, and reparations do not happen overnight. Nothing is instant, no matter how hard we wish it. But there was one thing that I could assure my sisters of, right then and there. We had heard their hearts. We had heard their cries. And so now the burden is no longer solely their to carry. Now we bear the responsibility as well. That's what family does.

Rescue those being led away to death; hold back those staggering toward slaughter.

If you say, “But we knew nothing about this,” does not he who weighs the heart perceive it? Does not he who guards your life know it? Will he not repay each person according to what he has done?

Proverbs 24:11-12

And now you know too.

When we let these ladies know that there were teams of brothers and sisters in the West who were praying for them, who were standing in the gap for them, who were lifting up their names to the King of the Universe, you would have though we just fixed their problems. They were not forgotten, but were being lifted up, cheered on, and encouraged. This was the word of exhortation that they needed to hear that day, giving them strength and courage to carry on. The other problems can be sorted through time as we continue to build relationships, and in fact are being addressed by the leadership council that was formed with Unite 4 Africa. But for now, these ladies were able to go back into battle, knowing that they were not standing alone.

What about you? Will you stand in the gap for them? Will you lift them up as they are working tirelessly to finish the task of being sure everyone has heard the incredible story of Jesus? Will you lift them up as well?

I praise You, Jesus, for what You have done in these ladies. I thank you that I may call them sister. It is I who am blessed for that. May we stand together for Your glory.

On an Aside

So...quick little side note...what do you think of the face lift and new title? It seemed time. And the Blogger-in-draft? Love it! It has certainly made things easier! Let me know what you think! I always welcome feedback! More stories to come!

Where There is No Road

There was a day that we went beyond all roads. We went further into the bush of Africa than I have ever been before. We had spent the previous few days in a community called Noosikitok in the Maasai region of Southern Kenya. We have been building relationships with the people of Noosikitok and beginning to lay out plans of action for transformation projects. Then one day they announced that the neighboring village would like to meet with us as well. "Neighboring" village indeed. A couple of hours into the bush, by vehicle. These folks travel on foot though!

I don't remember at what point we left the road, but there came a point when we had to back up the Land Rover and look for another route because the path we had been driving on became too narrow for us to pass. It was then that I realized we had been driving on footpaths, and the roads were long gone. We continued on in such manner for quite a ways until we suddenly came some huts and people gathered, in the middle of nowhere.

We were greeted with beautiful Maasai women singing us a traditional song of welcome, and then joined the community that had gathered there to welcome their guests. They introduced themselves as a people "in the middle of nowhere," and let us know that we were the first white people who had ever come to them before. Seriously, yall, they were out there in the bush.

It was so interesting listening to the community share about themselves, saying that they had been learning from their neighbors in Noosikitok about transformation, and that some of the church planters from Noosikitok had been visiting them and sharing about the stories of Jesus. They were learning from their neighbors and desired transformation amongst themselves as well.

They began to share about the great needs and challenges that they have, and we began to see and understand their hearts for change. The nearest school for their children is quite a distance to walk, and there is a constant threat of lions in the bush that would attack the children walking to school. Quite a different challenge from the complaints of the education system in the states. Most of the girls and women are completely illiterate, as they typically don't go to school at all. The threat of attack is too great, and there is much work for the girls to do to help with the home.

There is also no healthcare available to them at all. The nearest clinic is on the other side of the mountain, which is at least several hours walk. Imagine making that walk while ill, or having to carry an ill person that distance. The biggest challenges that they face with sickness are cholera and malaria. Both are life-threatening without medical intervention, but making that trek with the sick person could equally end in death. We were told that often they would start out the journey to get medical help, but either the person would die along the way, or would simply become too weak to go on, so they will turn back and return to the village to die. Not a good situation.

The other main problem is lack of water, which also contributes to the cholera outbreaks. The women and girls walk quite a distance to fill cans and buckets with water. This is a huge problem.

We (being the women on the team) were then given the unique opportunity of going (further) into the bush with the men to eat roasted goat with them. This is a culture that tends to lead very segregated lives between the men and women. And one of the distinct "man" activities for this tribe is that the warriors go into the bush for their fresh kill. They kill and roast a goat right there, and then usually send some parts of the kill back to the village for the women to cook with. Very interesting. Because we were unique guests, we were invited to witness the "man" activity and eat the kill with them.

It's hard to walk away from a people like that without giving promises of making their lives better. It's hard not to speak out of emotion and assure them that things will get better. But it's not hard at all give them the same assurances that we all have. That they are not a people of nowhere, but are actually somewhere. They are right where God has allowed them to be for such a time as this, and God's eye is on them. His heart is ever longing for them, and His Name will be exalted among even them. A relationship was started that day, as our God is one of relationships. And a relationship opens up a world of possibilities.

What possibilities are you opening up today?

A Few Pics for Donita...

Here is a glimpse of our day, in pictures. If it is laundry day, we start by filling buckets out back and getting to work out there.

I would like to say that this is a typical load, but because of the toll that laundry has had on my hands, the size of our loads of laundry has decreased significantly. My standards have dropped for what is considered dirty.

Serious ouch, raw hands. But the clothes are clean! haha

And then we get dressed and head out to do our daily shopping. 

This is our local market. Sorry the picture is not the best, but I was trying to be quick so that no one would grab my camera. While it is not as dangerous here as in other places, we are definitely noticed and watched as we walk through. This street is just outside of our neighborhood and is lined with kiosks where I can buy all of our produce needs for the day.

This has become our fast food. When we are out around lunch time, there is a little hole in the wall that serves up delicious beans and chapati. We stop in, place our order, and walk home with three bags of beans and one bag of chapati. Yummy lunch! Not to mention the Black Currant Fanta (my personal favorite!)

And then on a special day when we splurge a little, we venture down the road to our local Java House, the Kenyan version of an American coffee house. Definite treat!

Well, that's what I've got for now. Hope yall are doing well!

Venturing Out

Today the girls and ventured out by foot to do some shopping at the local market. We discovered a few days ago that they folks around our neighborhood are saying that our house is occupied by a bunch of tourists who are coming and going, so we wanted to show our faces in the community to let them know that we are slightly more permanent than tourists. A couple of days ago we did a walk through of a loop just outside of our neighborhood so that I could see where it goes and so that some of the folks in the community could see the face of this white woman with locals. It was the beginning of building relationships in the community. So today I put it to the test.

I strapped my baby girl on my back, grabbed a basket and the older girls, and we headed out. Our streets are all dirt roads, very rough and very dirty. As we leave the gates of our neighborhood, we are greeted with strange looks and whispers of , "mzungu! mzungu!," which simply means "white person." The streets are littered with all kinds of trash. At one point, my oldest asked me why there were so many old shoes left on the ground. Then she asked me why people leave their trash on the ground, because she knows that isn't wise. Oh boy, that began a discussion as we walk of different values and priorities and that sometimes people are not taught to value the same things that she values. And on we went. So the street outside of our community is lined with shanty little kiosks made of old wood. Some have bags of beans and rice and maize sitting out front. Another has a few crates of brown eggs. Most have bananas hanging from them, big green and yellow ones, and also the tiny sweet yellow bananas. Those are 5 kenyan shillings each, and so yummy. One kiosk has oranges, mangos, and avocados all neatly laid out in an appetizing display, with green, leafy vegetables behind them. I discovered today that I could buy a bag of greens already chopped up into tiny shreds. That was a brilliant discovery and came in handy at dinnertime!

We made our way to the local neighborhood "supermarket"to see what they had to offer. It consisted of three very tight aisles cram-packed with all sorts of things. So we grabbed a basket and began to work our way through it. It was tough to do with the baby on my back, as the aisles were just wide enough for us to walk through, with all sorts of tempting things on either side for her sweet baby hands to grab. So we moved quickly and I just kept turning from side to side to keep things out of her reach. We were able to buy bread, butter, detergent, rice, and napkins at this supermarket, and I was quite pleased to discover that it was remarkably cheaper than driving to the big supermarket at the shopping mall where we had been doing our grocery shopping. As we wormed our way around the other locals who were shopping there, we paid for our goods and moved on out the door. We had step over an old dog covered in flies and dirt to get through the doorway, and then crossed the bumpy dirt road to buy some produce.

I stopped at a couple of kiosks to buy bananas and greens, more so that I could meet the ladies selling them. Then we stopped at a little restaurant (here they call them hotels) to grab some lunch to take home. This is our version of a fast food take-away, but much healthier than McDonalds. We like the beans and chapati (something in between a tortilla and Indian fry bread-love it!) there, so we ordered our lunch and waited. They serve up an order of beans in a thin plastic bag with the end tied in a knot, and the chapati is folded over and placed in the same sort of bag. We paid our bill of 140 shillings (under $2), gathered our goods and headed home to eat lunch.

I am waiting a few more days for my hands to heal before I give the laundry another go. I am trying to not wait too long, otherwise the load will be huge and will surely lead to bloody hands. Evidently, though, my technique is part of the problem, so I have to refine how I hold the clothes and wash them. None the less, the scabs are still a bit fragile, so I will give them another few days. Needless to say, my standard of dirty clothes has changed drastically. If the clothes are not standing up on their own yet, they are still clean. Hahaha! No, seriously.

Well, that's all I have for tonight. Blessings yall! Thank you to those who are praying for us and have sent encouraging words. They have been needed, and have been well received here.

Settling In

These past few days have really been down days of settling and figuring out a new normal of life here in Kenya. The past month seems to have gone by like quite a whirlwind, full of some intense highs and even more intense lows. But by God's grace we are all still standing and moving forward in life.

This has been an interesting and humbling season of life for me. I was so intensely excited about returning to Kenya, as it has been 2 years since we were here as a family. I was excited to be able to be a part of the teams that travel around and meet with different people in communities across Kenya. I used to love traveling around and being a part of the adventure. I say used to because life has really changed much in the last several years, and children have changed the landscape of my adventure.

But I tried to keep up with the teams that were here last month, as we traveled from place to place to place. We had jet lag, sicknesses, cranky children, cranky mama, and challenging circumstances to work through. I wish that I could say that I maneuvered through them all gracefully and gently, but I did not. I was struggling through many different issues, and displayed not one fruit of the spirit for that time period.  Sigh. Sometimes I wonder if there are just some of us who are just too far gone, beyond hope of repair.

It was hard for me to let go of the notion of being able to participate with the teams and the various meetings that were going on, all the while, my three little people were calling for my attention and needing their mama to be their mama. So rather than joyfully attending to my children, I was bitter about being pulled away from the gatherings where I would be informed of things that were going on in the communities or general upcoming plans. I have really had to seek God's face in asking Him what He would have me do here and how He would have me serve. It is humbling when the response is not necessarily what I would have chosen first, as it is much less glamorous and behind-the-scenes.

And so these days I am getting settled into our house here in Nairobi and helping my girls recognize a new normal here at home. We are doing laundry by hand, which has led to bleeding knuckles that just don't seem to heal. We have ventured into the surrounding neighborhood to meet local vendors in their shabby kiosks. This will be our new grocery store, as the supermarket here is very expensive and meant for wealthy foreigners. We are foreigners, but wealthy we are not. So I will learn to buy local. We even have a small garden in the back of the house that has provided our family meals a time or two!

I am getting braver everyday about driving to a new place and discovering my way around. Today I actually drove by myself and my three little people in towards town to meet with some old friends. I drove there on one route and returned home by a different route, and did not get lost! I was immensely proud of myself for this feat! I have discovered that the key to driving in Nairobi is to be aggressive. In fact, every time I get behind the wheel of our old beast of a Land Cruiser, the old cheer runs through my head: "Be aggressive! Be, be aggressive!" I have realized that if you are brave enough to stick your nose out in traffic, you get the right of way to go first. That becomes like a dare! All kinds of fun!

So that's where we are for now. Nothing glamorous or exciting really. Not really what folks want to hear from of a missionary in the field, but this is my humble lot for today. And by God's grace, I will fill it.

Today I Type with Raw Knuckles

So we are back in Nairobi today after a very long journey yesterday from Kisumu. A drive that would normally only take 5 or 6 hours took us....ah, I don't know...too many, as one of the trucks broke down several times....several times on the way. But we arrived in the night and are now relaxing today at a favorite coffee shop here in Nairobi. I spent a couple of hours this morning doing laundry for my family, as it is all done by hand here. So I am trying to stay on top of it, rather than the once a week laundry day that I would do at home. So one bucket full of dirty clothes took two hours to wash by hand and ended with bloody knuckles.

In the last several weeks, we have been in several different communities, visited with many, many families, shaken countless hands, greeted many people, and have seen the hand of God moving among the African people. In the next several days, I will try to break this down into separate stories. For now, please pray for the Church in Kenya. Please pray for your brothers and sisters who are struggling so much here in Kenya. We have met with sisters who are alone in their faith, who are struggling to hold on to what they know of Jesus because no one else around them professes Him name. Please pray for these sisters. When we met with them, you can not imagine who encouraged they were to simply know that they are not alone, that there are brothers and sisters on the other side of the world who are holding them up before the Throne of Grace. You cannot imagine how their spirits were lifted to simply know that were standing with the whole bride of Christ. Please remember them in your prayers.

Where I Feel Most Alive

So we have been in Kenya for about 2 weeks now, and this is the first chance I have had to get anything to post. We have been without internet access for the majority of the trip, and now that we have it, I am at a loss as to where to begin. Let me take a moment and look back a bit. If I don't do it now, it won't get done.

We arrived in Nairobi on the night of the 4th, and it seems that we hit the ground running. We spent the first day in Nairobi doing shopping for the house, and then repacking to spend the next week out in the villages. 

Early Sunday morning, we loaded up in the Land Rovers and headed out of Nairobi to a village called Lumbwa among the Maasai. We arrived to the village by late morning in time to be ushered to a large rectangular church, which had been built by Korean missionaries who are living there. Somehow it was an odd contrast of sights with the brick so neatly laid, and the traditional Maasai women filing into it, decked out in their colorful beads and garments. When the pastor launched into the message directly addressing the issues of witchcraft and the spiritual world among them, a demon-possessed woman on the front row was thrown to the ground in a fit of spiritual warfare. As she writhed on the floor making shrieking noises, the elders of the church and some of our team members began to pray over her, commanding the demon to leave her. After several minutes of praying, the woman was helped back to her feet, standing in strength and in her right mind again. There were songs of praise lifted up from there and the service was concluded in worship.

Welcome back to Africa.

There was rest in the afternoon as our first day out came to a close. Sometimes there is just more to take in than can be processed. 

The next day we headed into the nearby community of Noosokitok to meet with the local leadership council. This particular day posed a huge challenge for me, as I was forced to redefine my role here in Kenya. I have quite romanticized traveling with children, boasting about their portability, while at the same time, being keenly aware of wanting to avoid creating the stereotypical rebellious "missionary kid." This is so heavy on my heart that it becomes a driving force throughout the days. I do not want my children to be a casualty of ministry and grow up to hate the God who took their parents' attention and love away. In my heart, it is a difficult balance and I often feel pulled and frustrated by it. So I found myself this day struggling with where I wanted to be and where I needed to be. I wanted to be sitting with the rest of the team, engaging in the leadership council meeting, learning more about the things of the community and how we may come alongside of them, but I was pulled away so many times with the needs of my little people that I decided to abandon the meeting altogether and tend to my children. They are having to learn how to pee behind a bush or squat over a hole to take care of their business, and so that particular day, we took many trips out to the bush for them. And my youngest was forced to nap while strapped to my back, and that was big challenge for all of us. All of that said, children are not as portable as I once boasted. Maybe it is just the season that mine are in, and/or the number that we have, but they have required significant attention that has pulled me away from what I thought was ministry that I would be involved in, and caused me to redefine my ministry focus and strategy. Silly mommy.

I will pause here, as the Kenyan night has called me to sleep. The mosquitos are buzzing about, craving my flesh, and the children are now snoring soundly. We are headed out to the village in the morning to visit family and the parents. I will try to write again tomorrow night upon our return.

Thank you to those who are praying for us. This trip has not been without its challenges thus far. But even amidst the challenges, the land in Africa is where my heart comes most alive. It's beats the strongest and alls me into closer communion with God. I praise His Name for the challenges, and for the awesome privilege to be here. More tomorrow. Be blessed!