This was posted on the Cheppema2008.org website after we returned from Africa... I wanted to post it on my blog as well... Some of you may have already read this - but for me, its a reminder of the trip that forever changed my perspective on life... Thus, the repeat!
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I want to try to summarize in a short amount of time some of the things that we experienced in Africa. But I have to begin by saying that this is hard for me to write – It’s very hard to try to get my head around this 7+ month journey that has forever changed my life. From writing the support letter, what seemed like a zillion vaccinations, dozens of meetings, the yard / ESTATE! sale, a 3 page packing list, long hours on airplanes, and 2 of the most meaningful weeks of my life – its hard to believe that I’m back in America getting ready for the Holiday season.
They say that this is the hardest part… Coming home. Not raising support, not the immunizations, not flying almost 24 hours, not being away from family for 2 weeks, but the coming home. To be very honest, I was not prepared for the emotions that have consumed me upon my return. I’m grateful, yet, not satisfied. I’m heartbroken, yet joyful. I’m frustrated and begging for answers. I’m lost, yet found.
So with that, I will try to summarize for you, from my heart, what was accomplished according to me!
On September 27th, 2008, we landed in Nairobi around 11:00pm – and after realizing that only one of our team bags was left in London, we stepped outside the airport onto Kenyan soil (see picture above). Immediately, it became a reality to me. After many, many years of God laying Africa on my heart – I was actually there to serve His people. My heart was racing, my hands were sweaty. My nose had its first encounter with burning coal, dirt, diesel engines, and body odor. Ahhh, the smell of Kenya.
The next day we woke up and drove about 3.5 hours to the Cheppema Hope Center, where church was just getting started. When I walked into that little church, hearing the Kenyan people singing praises to God in Swahili, tears welled up in my eyes. What a blessing and an honor to be in the company of those people. God touched me deeply at that moment. Even though we didn’t know the words being sung, we felt like we knew the meaning – it was so beautiful that I couldn’t help but think of heaven. To say that these people love Jesus is an understatement. Their faith, in that moment, put mine to shame… God is so much bigger than the small box that I had placed around Him.
Every day from Monday – Sunday, we drove the 30 miles from where we slept (Sunrise Acres) to the Hope Center. Those miles were spent looking out the window at the amazing Kenyan landscapes, extreme poverty, and yet some of the most beautiful smiling faces I’ve ever seen. Children would come running out of their huts to smile and wave to us. When we reached the Hope Center, the children were usually just taking their first break time from school. We blew bubbles, “skipped” rope, played games, and basically became children ourselves. Life was simple. These kids had more characteristics of Jesus than anyone I’ve ever met – yet, they really had nothing materially and only ate one meal a day. It was incredible to be in their company because they were so happy and grateful for what they did have.
Usually, we would be asked by some of the children to come to their classrooms. These children were so proud of their school and of the education they were receiving. On 2 occassions, I was asked to help teach the Standard 8 class. (Scary, I know!) The first thing to note was their immediate respect – when I walked into the classroom the whole class (about 15 kids) stood up to acknowledge our presence. Once asked to return to their seats, the questions began: What’s it like in America? What is your government like? Have you ever seen snow? What is the weather like? What kind of crops do you grow? What are America’s favorite sports? How old does someone have to be to run for President? How long is your President in office? And they kept coming! It was so amazing how interested they were in America.
This is where I want to touch on relationships… Not only were these children interested in America – they were interested in us - The Americans, the wazungu. They wanted to know about our children, their names, ages, what grade they were in, what they liked/disliked. They wanted to know what we did for a living. About our homes, our friends, our favorite color, our daily lives. And the best part… they actually listened INTENTLY for the answers! Which brings up a huge cultural difference – in America, we say that we care about relationships. But do we? Really? I honestly thought that I was really good about keeping in touch and caring about people, but watching them listen so intently made me question myself. Do I really listen after I ask a question? Do I take the time to ask how someone is really doing? Do I know my best friends’ favorite color? Selfishly, more often than not, I talk more about myself and my issues than listening to others. I’m prayerful that I’ll get better in that area of my life, especially during this time of year.
As I mentioned before on this blog, I made friends with a 12 year old girl, named Fredah Jeptoo. She and her sister, Vivian, both attend the Hope Center School. Fredah has one of the most beautiful smiles ever. She would light up a room! She is soft spoken, respectful, loving, and would seek me out every day I got out of our team van. She touched my heart because she made ME feel special.
Fredah’s mother, Eunice, is 40 years old and has 8 children. I got to meet Eunice and many of her children. She has a daughter, Karen, that is 2 years old and another daughter, Mercy, that is 3 months. On the last day that we were at the Hope Center, after church, Eunice handed me baby Mercy. Holding her in my arms was very special, but when Eunice looked at me and asked me to take her baby to America – it broke me. While I have never actually given birth, I have 2 very special children that I get to call my own, that I love more than life, and I can’t imagine how hard it must be to ask a complete stranger to take your youngest child to America for a better opportunity. My heart is broken that I couldn’t bring that baby home.
When I got into the van to leave the Hope Center, and looked over my shoulder with tears streaming down my face, I saw Fredah. She had her back to me and was wiping her eyes. The dear friend, that I fell in love with, was crying. As I sit here and type this note, I’m crying just thinking about that sweet girl. Until that very moment, I really felt that Fredah had done more for me than I could have ever done for her that week. I jumped out of the van and ran over to her and just held her. I stepped back, saw the huge tear stains on her dirty shirt where she had been crying and all she could say, was “Please come back!”
So with that, I’ll try to end this note… Seeing life from this new perspective during the holiday season is pretty intense. There are so many things that I am wrestling with now that I’m home. My perspective – it’s just different: I’m grateful for the many blessings that I have, yet, not satisfied with what I’m doing with them to help others. I’m heartbroken that there are children in Africa that only eat one meal a day (especially knowing that I’m getting ready to eat huge portions of turkey and ham on Thanksgiving and Christmas), yet joyful knowing that there are opportunities for us to jump in and help. I’m frustrated because my life is different in so many ways and I’m begging for God to give me answers on how to make those changes meaningful. I’m lost in America, yet found in Africa.
Finding Gratitude in the Little Things,
EMB*
I want to try to summarize in a short amount of time some of the things that we experienced in Africa. But I have to begin by saying that this is hard for me to write – It’s very hard to try to get my head around this 7+ month journey that has forever changed my life. From writing the support letter, what seemed like a zillion vaccinations, dozens of meetings, the yard / ESTATE! sale, a 3 page packing list, long hours on airplanes, and 2 of the most meaningful weeks of my life – its hard to believe that I’m back in America getting ready for the Holiday season.
They say that this is the hardest part… Coming home. Not raising support, not the immunizations, not flying almost 24 hours, not being away from family for 2 weeks, but the coming home. To be very honest, I was not prepared for the emotions that have consumed me upon my return. I’m grateful, yet, not satisfied. I’m heartbroken, yet joyful. I’m frustrated and begging for answers. I’m lost, yet found.
So with that, I will try to summarize for you, from my heart, what was accomplished according to me!
On September 27th, 2008, we landed in Nairobi around 11:00pm – and after realizing that only one of our team bags was left in London, we stepped outside the airport onto Kenyan soil (see picture above). Immediately, it became a reality to me. After many, many years of God laying Africa on my heart – I was actually there to serve His people. My heart was racing, my hands were sweaty. My nose had its first encounter with burning coal, dirt, diesel engines, and body odor. Ahhh, the smell of Kenya.
The next day we woke up and drove about 3.5 hours to the Cheppema Hope Center, where church was just getting started. When I walked into that little church, hearing the Kenyan people singing praises to God in Swahili, tears welled up in my eyes. What a blessing and an honor to be in the company of those people. God touched me deeply at that moment. Even though we didn’t know the words being sung, we felt like we knew the meaning – it was so beautiful that I couldn’t help but think of heaven. To say that these people love Jesus is an understatement. Their faith, in that moment, put mine to shame… God is so much bigger than the small box that I had placed around Him.
Every day from Monday – Sunday, we drove the 30 miles from where we slept (Sunrise Acres) to the Hope Center. Those miles were spent looking out the window at the amazing Kenyan landscapes, extreme poverty, and yet some of the most beautiful smiling faces I’ve ever seen. Children would come running out of their huts to smile and wave to us. When we reached the Hope Center, the children were usually just taking their first break time from school. We blew bubbles, “skipped” rope, played games, and basically became children ourselves. Life was simple. These kids had more characteristics of Jesus than anyone I’ve ever met – yet, they really had nothing materially and only ate one meal a day. It was incredible to be in their company because they were so happy and grateful for what they did have.
Usually, we would be asked by some of the children to come to their classrooms. These children were so proud of their school and of the education they were receiving. On 2 occassions, I was asked to help teach the Standard 8 class. (Scary, I know!) The first thing to note was their immediate respect – when I walked into the classroom the whole class (about 15 kids) stood up to acknowledge our presence. Once asked to return to their seats, the questions began: What’s it like in America? What is your government like? Have you ever seen snow? What is the weather like? What kind of crops do you grow? What are America’s favorite sports? How old does someone have to be to run for President? How long is your President in office? And they kept coming! It was so amazing how interested they were in America.
This is where I want to touch on relationships… Not only were these children interested in America – they were interested in us - The Americans, the wazungu. They wanted to know about our children, their names, ages, what grade they were in, what they liked/disliked. They wanted to know what we did for a living. About our homes, our friends, our favorite color, our daily lives. And the best part… they actually listened INTENTLY for the answers! Which brings up a huge cultural difference – in America, we say that we care about relationships. But do we? Really? I honestly thought that I was really good about keeping in touch and caring about people, but watching them listen so intently made me question myself. Do I really listen after I ask a question? Do I take the time to ask how someone is really doing? Do I know my best friends’ favorite color? Selfishly, more often than not, I talk more about myself and my issues than listening to others. I’m prayerful that I’ll get better in that area of my life, especially during this time of year.
As I mentioned before on this blog, I made friends with a 12 year old girl, named Fredah Jeptoo. She and her sister, Vivian, both attend the Hope Center School. Fredah has one of the most beautiful smiles ever. She would light up a room! She is soft spoken, respectful, loving, and would seek me out every day I got out of our team van. She touched my heart because she made ME feel special.
Fredah’s mother, Eunice, is 40 years old and has 8 children. I got to meet Eunice and many of her children. She has a daughter, Karen, that is 2 years old and another daughter, Mercy, that is 3 months. On the last day that we were at the Hope Center, after church, Eunice handed me baby Mercy. Holding her in my arms was very special, but when Eunice looked at me and asked me to take her baby to America – it broke me. While I have never actually given birth, I have 2 very special children that I get to call my own, that I love more than life, and I can’t imagine how hard it must be to ask a complete stranger to take your youngest child to America for a better opportunity. My heart is broken that I couldn’t bring that baby home.
When I got into the van to leave the Hope Center, and looked over my shoulder with tears streaming down my face, I saw Fredah. She had her back to me and was wiping her eyes. The dear friend, that I fell in love with, was crying. As I sit here and type this note, I’m crying just thinking about that sweet girl. Until that very moment, I really felt that Fredah had done more for me than I could have ever done for her that week. I jumped out of the van and ran over to her and just held her. I stepped back, saw the huge tear stains on her dirty shirt where she had been crying and all she could say, was “Please come back!”
So with that, I’ll try to end this note… Seeing life from this new perspective during the holiday season is pretty intense. There are so many things that I am wrestling with now that I’m home. My perspective – it’s just different: I’m grateful for the many blessings that I have, yet, not satisfied with what I’m doing with them to help others. I’m heartbroken that there are children in Africa that only eat one meal a day (especially knowing that I’m getting ready to eat huge portions of turkey and ham on Thanksgiving and Christmas), yet joyful knowing that there are opportunities for us to jump in and help. I’m frustrated because my life is different in so many ways and I’m begging for God to give me answers on how to make those changes meaningful. I’m lost in America, yet found in Africa.
Finding Gratitude in the Little Things,
EMB*
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