Ramblations...

baby Ashley--pray please

2012-02-04T11:36:00.006-05:00

There is a lot I've been meaning to write about but it will all have to wait because today happened and I want you to pray with me for a new friend and her baby...

Today my calendar (which doesn't really exist, rarely actually matches what the day holds, and is usually decided upon only hours before the day is reached-as anyone who has tried to plan anything with me (especially while in Kenya) can attest to) told me I'd be shadowing my friend Joseph, a medical student in Nakuru. I had mentioned my interest in labor and delivery several months ago and so he kindly offered to let me come and experience my first (and hopefully second, third, fourth, etc) Kenyan birth. We spent several hours in the Maternity Ward (which is accustomed to about 30 births a day) until we had seen all of the patients and it was clear no one would be delivering anytime soon. I was a bit disappointed that I had finally taken the time to come and shadow and of course, happened to pick the one day of the entire year that moms were not popping out babies every hour.

We stopped in several wards on our way to lunch and when we entered the 0-2 year old ward, it was clear they were overwhelmed. I have been in plenty of third-world hospitals and I promise I had never seen anything like it before. I think your stomach would turn like mine did when I entered, if only I could share the sounds of that room with you. Hundreds of babies crying sick and pain-filled tears whose different, but similar, noises echoed in the eeriest way. They were laying everywhere... on tables, in chairs, on laps, on backs, in beds with other babies. Several babies lay sprawled on top of a set of drawers, all hooked up to one oxygen tank.

My heart said to do something but my mind told me I wasn't qualified to. The heart won quickly and I found productivity in swatting flies from sleeping/oxygen sucking babies faces, removing the clothes of febrile little ones (a 2 week old having febrile seizures with a temp of 105 and no healthcare professional has told her to take off her onesie, tshirt, sweater, jacket, 2 pairs of pants, hat and thick blanket.... ah!!), rubbing heads, patting moms on the back, nagging nurses to pay attention to the ones who looked sickest, and praying for any little life my eyes found in that busy room.

As I said, the room was filled up to overflowing with desperate cries--hundreds singing distress in an unsettling harmony, so it is only God who directed my attention to the one baby in the room who was unable to make a noise come out of her frail body. The doctor was trying to get an IV started and had failed repeatedly due to this baby's critical condition. As he pushed and pulled the long needle in and out of her head, I watched in horror as her entire body cried, but no noise was released. I have never seen pain like that in my life. I cried heavy tears for her in that moment and her worried mother joined me. This baby needed help immediately. She was not getting it here.

I wrestled with the Holy Spirit for about 30 minutes, watching as my friend Joseph did whatever he could to move this child along in the process to receive the care she needed. I will be honest, the pain in my own heart was so bad at this point that I think I chose to get her out of that situation for my own benefit. I was so disturbed that I physically ached. I talked to the only doctor I could find in the large room and he agreed they would not be able to give this baby the care she needs to survive and supported our request to take her elsewhere. About an hour later (which is actually kind of fast for a public kenyan hospital), we were on our way... Joseph had gotten in touch with one of his professors (on a Saturday, Hallelujah again!) who is one of two pediatricians in Nakuru. He agreed to meet us and was able to admit us to a private hospital nearby, where he promised to provide the care Ashley needed himself.

The day was scary and hectic and I found myself praying often that He'd keep her alive long enough to reach our next destination. He did. He has, for today... I ask for your prayers that He continue to hold little Ashley tightly. She is very sick. At 10 months old, she weighs 9 pounds. She is severely malnourished and dehydrated on top of having a very serious case of pneumonia. Watching her chest rise and fall brings a new reason to rejoice 34 times per minute--she is still fighting.

Taking pictures seemed so odd and disrespectful, but I wanted you to be able to put a face with her name, a face with the statistic (15 million die of hunger each year... every 3 seconds), and a face on one of your sisters that you have yet to meet. They were taken this evening once Ashley was stabilized. Please continue to pray for Ashley and the doctors as they work to get this child back to health by re-feeding, hydrating, and controlling her chest infection. Please pray for her sweet mother Mercy whose ache for her child far exceeds my own small taste (so I cannot even imagine how bad it hurts). As the sun went down, we talked about how sweet Jesus is to have brought us all together. We thanked Him for loving Ashley more than we do and for answering her mother's wordless groans for the child He has entrusted to her. As I get ready to sleep, I am thanking Him that He lets us hear Him and never stops being faithful and true. I am thanking Him that we can say yes to Him even when we don't know how on earth it will work. I am thanking Him that we don't have to be rich or knowledgeable or experienced for Him to use us. I am thanking Him that we get to love people hard and deeply and painfully because He first loved us that way (but more) and He supplies the strength to keep on going. Thank you for praying. You are loving my friends by doing so and that means the world to me.

He is everywhere

2012-01-20T09:15:00.010-05:00

Jesus was especially sweet to me the week leading up to my journey back here to Kenya. I crave Kenya so bad when I am not there because it is where I see Jesus the clearest. It is not hard to spot Him and whether I am rejoicing or weeping in response to where I do or do not see Him, He is close by always. Night after night in Kenya (when I am living with the kids), I go to bed completely exhausted--spent in every way and absolutely requiring the mercy waiting for me in the morning and the rest of however many hours of sleep the night holds. My daily prayer that I would be "spent" (Isaiah 58) seems answered every day, more than I'd like oftentimes.

Admittedly, I dread American life for this very reason. Maybe it's because I have to squint harder to see Him there, have to be more intentional about seeking out opportunities to serve Him, or have to be obedient to His demand to love family and friends and strangers even when they are less small and cute and innocent as my Kenyan babies. Going to bed "spent" on others is an uncommon occurrence in my American life. I am super aware that I am only taking care of MYSELF when I am in America. I am responsible for no one else and I hate it most days.

This past week was different... in preparation for Kenya, I started praying the prayers I pray when I am here. Bold prayers, though they do not seem so bold when I am in a country with so much hurt--a country where my eyes will inevitably meet a sick, hungry, poor, abandoned, unloved, orphaned, unsaved person at almost every turn in the bumpy roads. The joy He gives when we spend ourselves is an absolute gift that is intended to give us the fuel to keep going... read Isaiah 58 if you don't believe me. :) Or even if you do, it's good stuff! God answered... He showed Himself like crazy. Literally, about every 10 minutes, He did something that left me laughing and shaking my head as I looked up at Him and called Him crazy or ridiculous or some completely inadequate word to describe His goodness. I slept about 3 hours a night but had more energy and joy than ever in my life... I was afraid to stop running and take a moment to stop because I feared to remember that sinful desire to serve myself above all others.

He blew me away with the graciousness that is so much a part of Him, in relationships more than anything; people whose faces shined Him so brightly I had to squint (now for a different reason). Old familiar friends whose hearts knit together in the perfect places to glorify Him through living in community and new friendships that made me wonder how He could possibly be so good to add them to my family.

Nothing about this has ceased... He is here just as much as He is there. He was there just as much as He was here (when I believed and lived and prayed otherwise). The hurt that helped me find Him/need Him here in Kenya is just as much a part of America. It wears a different disguise oftentimes, but it is there. He is my (OUR, I pray) deepest longing and so it is our desire to see Him everywhere. We look for Him... and when we see Him, we need to jump and shout and rejoice! I am constantly hearing it and constantly asking for it myself, "Jesus, come..." whether it is us inviting Him into our worship services (HE IS ALREADY THERE) or inviting Him into our circumstances (HE IS ALREADY THERE) or inviting Him into our pain (HE IS ALREADY THERE) or inviting Him into our joy (HE IS ALREADY THERE), we should ask believing and expecting!

Seek Him while He may be found!!!!!

I can tell you from personal experience (mostly from my experience in the inverse), Hebrews 11:6 is TRUTH. He wants to be seen and exalted and is incredibly generous to give us joy and increased faith in exchange.

I always wish that a song could play in the background of life; I'd definitely pick "We the Redeemed" by Hillsong if it was up to me. Luckily, we have this to look forward to in Heaven, but until then... I know I'd live a bit differently if this song was dimly playing as I walked through life. "We the redeemed, hear us singing--You are Holy, You are Holy." Let our everyday lives sing this to Him, whether we are doing laundry or paying the tollbooth guy, or talking to our parents, or holding an orphan, or eating lunch with our co-workers.

‎"Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, YOU ARE THERE; if I make my bed in the depths, YOU ARE THERE. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, EVEN THERE your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast." ~Psalm 139 : 7-10

He is there. Jesus is in the mansions on Riverside Drive and Jesus is in the slums of Nairobi, Kenya... these are some of the places I've seen Him these past couple of days:

in a game of soccer at a special needs school--where He let me be the legs and feet for an incredible soccer star who will someday walk, I believe!

in this game of Duck Duck Goose at a deaf school... the most silent game of Duck Duck Goose in history, but so much fun.

in this place where making relationships had to get creative... the comfort and ease of speaking (either Swahili or English) was stripped away with hearing and we were forced to fight hard to love each other.

in these sweet faces who exuded joy and love and were so quick to open their hearts to us.

He is everywhere. Now let's find Him and celebrate His presence as the gift that it is... glory to God that He may be found!

the why

2012-01-11T14:17:00.003-05:00

why why why why why why? -- something people ask often and I respond to with shrugged shoulders. Now my answer is Jesus and I realize it always should have been...

I want them to know Him. Knowing Him is everything... knowing Him is a million times better than being cured and knowing Him is a trillion times better than a heart that rarely aches and knowing Him is a kazillion times better than having a mom or dad and knowing Him is a bajillion times better than having a full stomach and warm bed and education and clean clothes. So. much. better.

I am not okay with this earth being the best they know.

I want the things I rejoice in every single day to be the same source of praise and joy for them.

I want to sit beside them in their hurt and cling to the hope of future glory, hand in hand.

I want to be able to cry with them over the hurts of this world and proclaim the promise that the tears will be wiped from our faces when we join Him in Heaven.

Of course I want them to be fed and loved and clothed and fought for and adopted and respected and healed, but more than anything--I want them to be saved, to be redeemed, to KNOW HIM.

I think we are all called to surround ourselves with the poor, dirty, broken, hurting, and sick and if we do, our eyes will see a lot of pain. Hopefully even more than seeing it, we will feel it as our own. My prayer is that we see Him as both our chief need as well as theirs. That we would be slower to prescribe 12-step programs and faster to share the gospel. That we would be slower to hand out a quick meal and faster to sit down and make relationships over dinner. That we would be slower to diagnose their "needs" and faster to remember it's Jesus.

He answers prayers. My heart is in pieces over orphans and the sick and oppressed--He has already convinced me they are worth giving my life for, but now I am praying a bit differently. I am praying my heart aches first and foremost for the ones who do not know Him as I do.

The image of Carol, Lucy, the children that fill orphanages and others I know who have endured such deep pain on this earth rejoicing when they meet Him is something that makes my heart almost explode. John 16 is the sweetest truth--they (we!), if followers of Jesus, will remember the anguish we endured on earth NO MORE!!!! The joy will so far exceed any pain of the times before that remembering it is not even an option. "In that day you will ask nothing of me"... all of our needs will be met, forever. No more hunger, no more sickness, no more fear, no more loneliness--only joy. JESUS.

I want that for the man digging through the trash in downtown Atlanta and I want that for the orphan who silently cries herself to sleep each night and I want that for the cancer patient who suffers alone in a hospital room and I want that for the woman selling her body on the streets and I want that for the man who beats his wife and I want that for for the innocent child who inherited illness in his blood and I want that for the ones who buy and trade human lives like they are pieces of meat and I want that for the 'rich young rulers' of today and I want that for those of us who don't even know we're sick and needy.

So, that's why. No other reason.

"I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently." ~Romans 8:18-25

Lotus buds

2011-12-09T17:32:00.005-05:00

"All souls are His, all flowers. Neither souls nor flowers are his who did not make them. They were never truly his. They belong to the Lord of all the earth, the Creator, the Redeemer. The little Lotus buds are His--His and not another's.

So now we go forth with the Owner Himself to claim His own possession. There is hope in the thought, and confidence in the purest inspiration. And, stirred to the very depths, as we are and must be many a time when we see the tender Lotus buds gathered by a hand that has no right to them, and crushed under foot; bewildered and sore troubled, as the heart cannot help being sometimes, when the mystery of the apparent victory of evil over good is overwhelming: even so there will be always a hush, a rest, a repose of spirit, as we stand by the Lotus-pools of life and seek in His name to gather His flowers."

--Amy Carmichael (on the children she spent her life loving in India)

They are HIS and that is so much better than being mine.

Let the children come

2011-11-27T00:04:00.005-05:00

It just hit me like a ton of bricks as I read about Jesus rebuking His disciples for keeping the children away from him in Mark 10. It happened about a month ago, but the Holy Spirit has brought what was hidden from my eyes to light and I am thankful, however painful it is to look at.

We were in a hurry, not only because dark clouds that promised to wash out the roads and leave us stranded loomed overhead, but because we had a long and difficult journey back to Nairobi waiting to begin. We had bought just about everything the small store had, at least all that was edible. Fruits of every kind and vitamin and mineral enriched porridge flour for the children of Loikas, a slum/village in Maralal. The three of us (Grace, Phoebe and I) struggled to carry boxes and bags of food we planned to give as we visited the neediest families in the area. I would say that every single person living in this village is hungry and trying to prioritize who needed the food the most seemed futile and heartless from the get go. With only what we could carry, as cars cannot pass through the narrow walkways, we set out to find several children whose weak bodies and expressionless faces had been burned into my mind months prior. We did not find them all and until I lay eyes on the weakest of them, I must assume he eventually died from malnourishment. It wasn't a very "rewarding" visit. Deworming the kids with visible signs of worms and providing minimal food to the malnourished babies seemed like barely brushing the surface (not even faintly scratching it) and I was frustrated.

It was one of those days I hated the color of my skin even more than usual. I usually love the crowds of children who are drawn by their curiosity of all things new and different, but today I wished to blend in and be camouflage from the millions (well, it felt like it) of children who were slowing us down--crowding the narrow path we were walking, quickly draining my supply of fruit, and giving me less time to find the children who I had decided needed the small things I had "the most".

I don't remember her name. She ran to us the instant she saw us from atop the hill where she lived and insisted upon holding my hand throughout the entire journey. I was annoyed. As I said, I was on a mission and time crunched. The paths were only wide enough for one set of feet and dodging human poop was a fairly high priority of mine--one that she was threatening by holding my hand and pushing her way in beside me. She was older than the usual insistent hand holders (who I adore on most days)... somewhere between eight and ten, I'd assume. She stared at me the whole time, another thing I sort of hate. I was taking any chance to awkwardly (and unnecessarily) hold my heavy plastic bag with two hands so that my obligation of dragging a ten year old through this maze of a village was over. Phoebe could tell I was annoyed (I'm not even a little bit good at hiding it) and politely told the girl to give me some space. I was relieved. But man, she was persistent. If she wasn't holding my hand, she was two inches behind me, still staring. I remember the conversation in my head with the Holy Spirit... it went something like Him telling me "just hold her damn hand. you can do it."

I am not sure the Holy Spirit speaks this way, and mean no disrespect, but sometimes that is how He seems to best communicate with stubborn me. Or maybe it's just how I translate it, but regardless, I still chose to resist. I think I responded with a sarcastic, insensitive "I think she'll survive."

As far as I know, this story does not end with the girl dying that night and me regretting my small act of withholding love for the rest of my life; maybe that would make a more compelling story (maybe even worthy of becoming a forwarded email that ends with a harsh warning to send to all of your friends or you will be hit by a bus) or maybe it would deter me from letting the same thing happen again. I am guessing she DID survive her encounter with a grumpy white-skinned person and is doing just fine right now, but looking back-I know my disobedience pained Him. In that moment, I withheld HIS love from her. Not that He didn't love her without me, but gosh... I could have loved her on His behalf and I gave up that opportunity in order to focus on my narrow, narrow view of what I thought He had on tap for the day.

I imagine the inquisitive kids that gathered around Jesus slightly outnumbered the ones that met me in Loikas that day. :) I can envision Jesus being elbowed and shoved and prodded as He tried to maintain His footing in a crowd of small, but mighty when on a mission, kids who were eager to get near Him, if for no other reason than to stare. I can also see his well-meaning disciples responding to this in the way that they did... rebuking the kids in order to regain order to a now chaotic environment (kids are so awesome at creating those out of nowhere :)). And Jesus was "indignant." Really? Indignant? At least let the disciples gather them into a single file line and bring their voices down a notch. Prioritize them by needs and send the ones who are not sick or hungry home for the day. Let them come with a parent or guardian and please make sure none of them get back in the line after they've already been through once. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . He said to let the children come!!! Stop hindering them and let them continue being who He so perfectly created them to be--the very characteristics that lead Him to remind us again and again that we should aim to be more like them. "The kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these."

So here I stand, humbled and repentant. Knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that Jesus would have at least taken a moment to look into this girls eyes and hold her hand as He journeyed towards those with "greater needs." I am no Bible scholar, but if I am correct, the children Jesus was referring to in these passages in Mark 10 and Matthew 19 were not even sick. What? I am definitely the disciple who is advising Jesus that His schedule is pretty full, so better just lay hands on and pray for the sickest and poorest and hungriest kids. I probably would have even suggested a good, solid group prayer for all, to hurry along the process. Especially if I knew someone "worse off" was waiting for Him.

Looking back and recalling how unsettled I felt as we drove away from Loikas just as the rain drops became heavy, I am sure that feeding those babies and killing the worms in their bodies was not the primary reason He brought me there that day. I guess He just wanted to pour a little extra love on that girl and He gave me the chance to feel the skinny brown fingers wrapped tightly, trustingly around for Him. I thought surely He sent me to fill grumbling bellies and improve sick children's health. Oops.

Wonderful news though.... He's forgiven me and I am sad I hurt Him, but thankful for the grace to try again tomorrow; the mercy to keep my eyes open; the Holy Spirit to keep my heart willing to love whoever is in front of me.

Yes

2011-11-10T00:59:00.009-05:00

Today as I watched people pour down to the front of the sanctuary of Mt. Bethel as a result of their Holy Spirit inspired “yes” to add a Kenyan child to their lives, I was overwhelmed with happiness. For once, it was not because I was happy for the children who were now promised enough food and clothing and school and love. Not even because I was happy for the families who were now connected to a little life across the world. Even still, my happiness was not attributed to the joy I know my parents and others who have put their hearts and souls into this ministry were feeling as they watched the children they fight for receive sponsors. My heart raced and my eyes filled with tears because what God did today was rich, rich love poured out on one of His faithful servants. It was His way of fulfilling His promise to her (and all of us) that He would provide if she would continue saying yes to what He asked of her.

Her name is Grace and if anyone is more deserving of such a name, I have not met her yet. Her life is about recognizing God’s grace, rejoicing in God’s grace, and praying for more of God’s grace. It began with one child, one yes, one mouth to feed, one deduction from a paycheck, one extra heart to fit into her life. Over the past five years, this woman has given more and more until it became everything to take care of just one more. Anyone you ask will tell you she's crazy... "she takes on too much, she doesn't get enough sleep, she needs a break, she gives too much, she is spread too thin, she is too ambitious, she never stops moving."

I think she is crazy too sometimes when I hear what she says yes to and never really hear a "no" exit her mouth. The rich know her, the poor know her--the Christians know her, the non-Christians know her. She is known and respected because of the way she loves generously, even where tribal barriers try to hinder this exchange. I think she has a more accurate census of who is admitted at the District Hospital than the nurses do. I am pretty positive the restaurant she and her mother own gives out more food each day than they sell. The doctors in town know and expect her to be bringing sick children to them at any hour. She is the first phone number dialed when a baby is abandoned at the hospital.

She is not using her precisely calculated "leftovers" to serve the children in her community, she is giving EVERYTHING SHE HAS to serve them, maybe even at the expense of her own family. She has traded what could have been an extremely comfortable and cushioned life (because she is entitled to this--right? if she works hard and is wise with her money, one might assume) for a life of complete dependance that if He does not provide above and beyond, her family will not eat.

Give give give and don't cling to a thing... trusting that He'll give more to fill in the gaps. He has. For the past five years, the 40-something kids in her care have been fed and clothed and loved. It didn't come easy though. They have known nights of praying alongside Grace that God provides food because the storehouse is empty and they have known nights of grumbling tummies because they ate a bit less than their bodies required to stay full until the morning. They have known tea without sugar and beans without salt and lunchboxes without lunch. Their toes have poked out of the holes in their shoes and their patched clothes have lost their vibrant colors. And they are grateful... they are so grateful because they know that God has brought them far.

I am rejoicing today because I can hear the sigh as Grace gets word that all of her children have been sponsored and looks upward in awe of God's goodness. I can almost see inside her heart as God takes her back to that first simple "yes" He asked of her and gives her a quick slideshow of how much GLORY He has received from that point on--not just through the pretty, the hard too. God loved and cared for and provided for these kids before Project 82 existed and before you decided to sponsor... He did it through this woman and others who came alongside of her. And now He has chosen to involve others--shoes without holes and untattered clothes and access to water (we pray) and more than enough food and wonderful schools and love in relationships are in their futures.

And even though a good bit of the financial weight of caring for 40-something children will be lifted from Grace now that her children have sponsors, I have a hunch that the way she lives her life will remain the same. I trust that she and her family will still reside in the humble 3-room home they live in. I trust that she will still "work too hard" and "not sleep enough" and "give too much of herself" because it is what God asks. Glory for God not just for what He has done today, but what He has done that led up to today, and what He will continue to do from this point forward. Glory to God for the "yes's" today that will have an eternal impact in the days and years to come and Glory to God for letting us be a part of caring for His children.

"Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter when you see the naked, to clothe him, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood? Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard. Then you will call, and the LORD will answer; you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.

If you do away with the yoke of oppression, with the pointing finger and malicious talk, and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday. The LORD will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail."

--Isaiah 58:1-11

Dreams

2011-11-04T14:50:00.002-04:00

When I was in 11th grade, my high school sent us to Johnson O'Connor for aptitude testing. I don't remember much of my results, other than that my two greatest strengths were ideaphoria and learning new languages. The language thing is funny now...I love how God equips us for every good work before we even know we need His equipping! And as for 'ideaphoria', it is just a fancy word to describe a constant onslaught of new ideas flowing through my head at all times--some good, MANY (many... trust me) bad. :)

I have been frustrated at times for my lack of 'vision'/structure for ministry in Kenya. But more than anything, I have seen other people's frustration of my inability to produce a sound answer to the questions about "what I actually do here." Teams come and I get to listen to their ideas and visions and dreams and strategies for doing ministry here and I am oftentimes jealous that they have a 'game plan.' They ask me what I am doing here and I am unable to say much more than "loving the people I meet." Usually I don't know what I am doing here, or foresee myself doing here, besides that. As much as He created my mind to fill with thoughts/ideas/dreams about everything under the sun, I have very few for ministry here.

The ones I do have are beautiful in my mind, but nothing that will sell as a pitch to anyone looking to invest in a solid, strategic and transformational plan to bring change in a community. My dreams are about living in a community where I am no longer recognized for my skin-color and financial status [I usually get angry when people assume I am rich because I'm American... but I am. We are. When you make more than a dollar a day, you are rich (if we're considering the whole world and not just the comparison to your next door neighbor), like it or not] but as a neighbor, friend, and fellow community member. I dream of having a huge kitchen table where anyone is welcome, always (and someone to cook large amounts of amazing food, haha). I dream of praying for the people in my community and the problems they're faced with as often as they are praying for me and the difficulties I have. I pray that we would mutually know, that anything "good" is a gift from Him... by way of sponsors or donors or well-wishers or friends, but still directly from His generous hand. I pray that we would, together, rise up to care for our community... that the orphans would not just find a home in my house, but in other homes as well (and joyfully)--that the elderly would be cared for with the respect they deserve and that the most scandalous of all community members know, if nothing else, they are loved and accepted. I pray that we would take care of each other in this way because it is how God takes care of us. I dream that through all of this (God's grace), we would continually ask the question how we can better serve and love and adore Him--and then walk boldly together with the answers we receive in Scripture. I dream that those of us who are sick celebrate Jesus all the more as we get closer to meeting Him face to face. I pray that this is just life, not a mission project.

Today, unlike most all days previous, I am thankful that He has kept my calling so simple and defined and seemingly modest. He has told me to love them and forever, that will be my ambition--to love. He has told me to remain in the forced humility of having NO grand schemes and answers for how to "fix" "change" "transform" "impact"... just the simple instructions to love them and do life with them instead of doing life above them. This is what the Gospel speaks to me, again and again. I know I am simple-minded and have trouble taking things much deeper than they appear on surface level, but I have to believe that is how Jesus meant it to be... that is what His life was about, as I can see it.

I was able to go to a conference this past weekend (Global Leadership Summit put on by Willow Creek) with thousands of Kenyan leaders. I felt inspired just by their presence and desire to see God use them for His glory in Kenya. One of the speakers went through Acts 1 and equated Jerusalem, Judea, and Samaria to our own places of ministry. Samaria was described as the place we are most uncomfortable... it intimidates you and you try to avoid it. She suggested this is where we are called to serve and though I've heard this time and time again, I realized my answer was not so easily "Kenya" anymore. I was beginning to think "oh crap. are You telling me i have to go to Corporate America??" because that scares me more than anything... I have utmost respect for those of you serving there. I am comfortable here in Kenya...in villages and in orphanages and in slums. I feel like I've lived here forever and though I never stop learning, what used to stretch me (eating the food, pooping in a hole, showers few and far between, being covered in sewage, etc) are no longer as challenging.

I thought a little bit harder and realized He has made it perfectly clear where I am to go next--it scares the crap out of me because I have to depend of Him completely. I think I have learned my place among most people here... they are starting to laugh at my jokes (finally!) and I think we both feel comfortable together after a short time of introduction. Many of my greatest friendships are with the people I've met here in Kenya. And then there is the group that doesn't respond when I greet them, assumes before I even speak that I pity them, believes they can count the millions of problems I see in them, and really intimidates me, if I'm being honest. Some of their cultural customs make my head spin (leaving their babies to be eaten by lions if they have any sort of disfiguration or problem, aborting babies by jumping on stomachs, lots and lots of polygamy (making their HIV rate off the charts), not educating their women, young and arranged marriages (imagine your 7th grade daughter getting married to your husbands friend), female genital mutilation, apathy and avoidance of any sort of medical care, sedentary lifestyle and unwillingness to work... i could go on), but none of these are what He is asking me to focus on. Maybe I'm not even supposed to see those issues. He is asking me to see Him faithful... that's all. If I see Him faithful, the personal intimidation factor does not lower, but it is inundated with PEACE because I know what He is capable of. In fact, someone said at the summit this week that if our vision is not intimidating us, then it is most likely insulting God. Ouch.

That being said, I feel Him telling me we are getting closer to a time for planting my feet a bit. Planting myself in a community, asking for them to accept me as their neighbor, and then watching God move. I want them to know Him... before I want them to stop killing their handicapped babies and have faithful marriages and take the medicines available to prevent passing HIV to their children and cease to circumcise their girls and work hard to take care of their families. I am praying everyday that He makes my heart beat for them, because it is not all there yet.

As usual, I know no defined future steps besides a new willingness to stay still long enough to let some roots sink in somewhere. Thankful for the bits of revelation and expectant that they will keep coming...

the glimpses...

2011-10-20T04:48:00.006-04:00

I don't know if this blog has turned into some sort of confessional, or what, but it just seems fitting to put my heart on the table for anyone who is willing to walk beside me on this journey of following Jesus wherever He so faithfully leads us. It seems weird to do it via such a public venue, but it is something I really believe in and I ask the same from you and trust that this is how we were created to live in community with one another--sharing our sin, sharing our struggles, sharing our joys, sharing our questions, sharing His revelations.

I love love love the moments I get to spend loving children who, for whatever reason, need some extra loving. Wherever this can happen is where I am the most full. In these moments, the presence of sewage and flies and mud and inconvenience and sticky hands (my weakness) and discomfort and missing people and 'danger' are so far from my mind. In these places, Jesus' love for me is absolutely undeniable--it is the best thing I know.

Several weeks ago, I was sitting underneath a tree in Segera with some moms as the young children drank their morning porridge (uji). Precious little Josphine was laying in my lap as she swallowed slow, long sips of uji. I was thankful for the leisurely pace because it meant this time would last even just a bit longer. At one point during these sweet moments, I looked down and realized I was sitting in an ant pile. I quickly checked to see if they had already reached Josphine and when I saw they had not, made a very conscious decision to stay exactly where I was. I did not want to move because I feared that even a small scoot would hinder this pure bliss I was experiencing. Realizing this oddity later (show me the logic in sitting in an ant pile by choice....), I had no option but to praise Him for loving me so deeply through these slowed seconds. He is generous to provide these glimpses of Heaven all throughout the day and I pray to never stop craving these most intimate interchanges.

But they end in some way or another; they always do—and sometimes in my impatience, I feel like He waits too long to give me the next glimpse. Though I am overwhelmed to tears when I am knee-deep in these sweet moments, they pass and I am once again dissatisfied. I wonder if this is just my nature or how He created us to live… I have to conclude (for now ☺) that it’s a combination.

To be honest, sometimes I loathe the glimpses. I know they are all things GOOD and PURPOSED to keep me craving… more of Him--more of His Spirit’s guidance--more of His love—more expectation for eternity with Him—more yearning for justice displayed. The glimpses DO keep me craving, but often it’s for things that are not promised to me. Yes—I am FULL in these moments (even when covered in ants), but seconds after they pass, I approach God with the selfish, ungrateful wonderings: “okay, that was wonderful… so wonderful. So, why can’t this girl be mine??” “yes, I am loving every second of this…. but when am I going to be able to have my own kids that I can raise however I feel led to?” “it’s true, this baby has been nothing but a sweet gift to me-directly from Your hand, but why do I have to leave her now-just as everyone else has done?” …………….. I am dissatisfied. I want more and though He shows me time and time again that I am walking in His will *here* (with my heart walking around in lots and lots of little brown bodies, none of whom call me Mom) by the joy that is only explained by this, I am angry He will not give me more.

My stubborn self bites my lip and decides that I am throwing in the towel. I am tired of giving my heart to so many in the small, small ways I can from this (emotional and physical, both) distance. And recently, why on earth (!!!!!!) would He bring a baby--unloved, abused, neglected, sick, malnourished, dying--into my life to care and love for as my own for two short months, only to detach from her as soon as our attachment is secure (too secure, but secure nonetheless)??? Not even considering the personal pain--the pain and confusion that will be added to her life that is just now re-beginning... I have so many selfish questions. I believe I am willing to love her as my own, forever (though why does He always match me up with the stubborn, defiant, high maintenance ones!? :)),so why am I only given this small, small time with her?

Those are some of my current conversations with Him--they usually start with praise for the joy in these days (however difficult they are) and then segue to a whiny plea for more (inside or outside His will--just what I happen to want today, in this moment..) and then they eventually (and thankfully!!) end with repentance (because He listens to me, but all the while is waiting for me to remember He's got this :)) and prayers for strength and Spirit refilling to walk where and how and with who He asks for this day.

So, until the morning when I require hearing it once more, I remember that He cares more about the little one laying next to me--dirty feet on my pillow, preparing to gauge my eyes out as is her morning technique to wake me up, snoring like a horse. And though it seems crazy that He brought our hearts close for a short time, He did it on purpose. I remember that He is trustworthy... that it is not a long shot to believe that He cares enough about this girls heart (and my own) to not "mess around" with them for no reason. I remember that my life is infinitely richer because of the little lives He has brought in, and whether they come or go or stay forever (last option seems the only possible, but who knows), and so I will thank Him for that. I remember that it is a PRIVILEGE to love precious souls that need to know His love in human form and I am absolutely blown away that I get to do it. And I remember that we are meant to crave... I am meant to crave an eternity of these moments of intimacy with HIM, may it never cease until I am home.

Isaiah 49

2011-09-30T07:02:00.008-04:00

Isaiah 49:15-16

“Can a woman forget the child at her breast,
and have not compassion on the son of her womb?
Even these may forget,
but I will not forget you.
See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands;
your walls are ever before me."

In the past, I have read Isaiah 49:15 as a verse whose purpose is to remind us that as much as we love someone, we can never find a comparison or put words to the depths of His love for us. He asks if a woman can forget the child who she has carried for nine months, delivered, and is now giving life to in the most intimate way I can imagine a connection between mother and child. The answer has seemed an obvious "of course not"... I have even thought before "gosh, way to take it to the extreme, God." Yes, I am well-acquainted with the "orphan crisis" (not sure i like calling "it"/THEM this), but recently He has introduced me to a little life that has revealed a deeper understanding of His great love.

When I first got to hold baby Linet in my arms, she tugged on my shirt--a way of asking whether or not I had any milk to give her. :) In Kenya, it's typical for a baby to breast feed for at least two years. It makes sense--our bodies were made for such. Throw in poverty and it seems crazy to not use this God-given gift to feed children until they can find nourishment in other foods. We all laughed (even her!) about her sweet request that I, unfortunately, could not provide and went on with the day.

The gravity of these verses did not strike me until several nights later, as she lay with an arm sprawled across me and legs furiously "running" as she slept. WHY was I the one laying next to this precious girl--me, someone who could not even promise be in the same position a week later? Who am I to be in this moment-this one I never want to leave? Why is Linet passed from child to child to caregiver to caregiver with (thankfully) so many to love her, but no one to call her their own? The "even those may forget" came to my mind and for the first time, it became real. Linet's mom (to the knowledge of those who have met her) is not dying, she is not gravely ill, she is not dead, she is not too poor to raise a child, she does not have some extenuating circumstances that made giving up Linet "make sense" or appear to be the "only option".... she simply did not want her.

Only by His grace He continues to remind me that it is FAR from my place to cast judgment on this mother, as much as I love her child. I ask why He knit Linet in HER womb... why not someone else's? Why not even mine? I know that He did it so meticulously and I wonder why He even took the time and precision and love to form this creature the way He did.

To be honest, at first I felt hindered from singing love over Linet like I do with Mercy, Pinky, and Obama. I'd be lying to tell her that she was loved and cherished and prayed for and wept over and sung to and held close before her mom left this earth after a hard, faithful fight to stay longer to raise her children. There is no pretty story to offer this little heart when she begins to wonder. This grieved me... how I so wanted to believe that someone else longed to be in my position--listening to her breathe as she sleeps, wiping sweat from her forehead (which I could only locate in the darkness by tracing the sweet breaths), and eyes filling with tears as she takes her first steps. It is so much easier when I can believe that her mom aches to be there with her. The inverse of this feels like a knife in my heart, on her behalf. A blow taken for her until she can receive it herself, fully. Oh but GOD. God... He does not forget her!!!! He is so clear that His love for her is STRONG. "Even these may forget".... He tells us it will happen. And then He relaxes my angry, questioning eyes by following with the most beautiful Love I will forever try to swallow... "but I will not forget you." I imagine Him showing her and letting her run her fingers over his rough hand as He says "See..."

Linet's sweet name has a place on His scarred hands... He sees her, He knows her, He rejoices over her, He remembers her. This is enough. It doesn't seem like it to me so many times, but it is. This is not the second best. This is the best. This is not seeing the glass half full or positive thinking or optimism or making good out of bad; this is GOODNESS. Pure and holy and undefiled truth that she is His, not forgotten. This is reason to sing...

fixed.

2011-09-04T22:09:00.004-04:00

I wish I had written about His faithfulness when my knees were far too well acquainted with the cold, concrete floor beside Carol’s bed as her body fought chicken pox, pneumonia, and the virus that led her to this weakened state.

I wish I had written about His faithfulness when I felt helpless to do anything but watch Lucy squirm and writhe and groan in pain as cancer tore apart her earthly frame.

I wish I had written about His faithfulness when Phoebe and I squeezed three precious ones, deeply deeply loved by their ailing mother, into a car to drive to their new home; a home of education, clothes, clean water, three meals a day, JOY, and love, but one apart from the mother and father who gave them life.

I wish I had written about His faithfulness when positive HIV test results were read and cancer diagnoses were confirmed and stories of abandonment, abuse, neglect, and rape were retold and news of friends dying preventable deaths was digested.

I wish I had written about His faithfulness when sharing a meal and conversation with street boys too high to lift their water glasses with steady hands; conversations that jumped from how much money they’d come upon that day to their favorite color to the fact that they had no recollection of their mother’s face.

I wish I had written about His faithfulness when I wrestled and fought and diverted my gaze and plugged my ears and called His bluff because I loved these people more than I loved Him and if He was the one allowing all of this pain, I would choose them over Him. I would fight for them if He wouldn’t.

His faithfulness wells in my heart and is fresh on my lips when Carol skips and Lucy sings and Pinky giggles and morphine is acquired and babies are discharged and surgeries are successful and bellies are full…

I strain my eyes to see His faithfulness in the moments He seems far and the ones I love are hurting the most… I SO often miss it, but the promise remains that it is there. Oh, it is there! I raise my voice and demand that He listen to my prayers, even though this is one of the first truths He etched into my heart, knowing how pivotal it would be for me—stubborn, doubting Annie Coppedge, to know that my words and heart are not sailing off into the wind like a balloon let loose in the sky.

Sights of His faithfulness through the difficult greet me as soon as the fog lifts but these pleasantly overwhelming glimpses always seem to knock me onto my knees. Repentance. Forgive me for my stubborn, tight lips that refused to utter praise when my eyes did not see You worthy of it. Forgive me for my shallow mind that chooses acceptance of how You handle Your people over trust that You are GOD, You love your people and You never stop working for our good.

I wish I had written to you about His faithfulness in all of the things that seemed so far from pretty blog posts. I wish I had thanked Him all the more during the times Faithful and God seemed antonymous. I wish I had sung even louder when the words were more difficult to find.

Psalm 86

A prayer of David.
1 Hear me, LORD, and answer me,
for I am poor and needy.
2 Guard my life, for I am faithful to you;
save your servant who trusts in you.
You are my God; 3 have mercy on me, Lord,
for I call to you all day long.
4 Bring joy to your servant, Lord,
for I put my trust in you.
5 You, Lord, are forgiving and good,
abounding in love to all who call to you.
6 Hear my prayer, LORD;
listen to my cry for mercy.
7 When I am in distress, I call to you,
because you answer me.
8 Among the gods there is none like you, Lord;
no deeds can compare with yours.
9 All the nations you have made
will come and worship before you, Lord;
they will bring glory to your name.
10 For you are great and do marvelous deeds;
you alone are God.
11 Teach me your way, LORD,
that I may rely on your faithfulness;
give me an undivided heart,
that I may fear your name.
12 I will praise you, Lord my God, with all my heart;
I will glorify your name forever.
13 For great is your love toward me;
you have delivered me from the depths,
from the realm of the dead.
14 Arrogant foes are attacking me, O God;
ruthless people are trying to kill me—
they have no regard for you.
15 But you, Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God,
slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness.
16 Turn to me and have mercy on me;
show your strength in behalf of your servant;
save me, because I serve you
just as my mother did.
17 Give me a sign of your goodness,
that my enemies may see it and be put to shame,
for you, LORD, have helped me and comforted me.

I am headed back to Kenya after 8 months of fog. I look back through it and see that my now loud shouts of His faithfulness largely contrast my utterances in the months preceding. I dance around with my plane ticket in hand and cannot say enough good things about this God who loves me (as evidence by this newly acquired ticket) and then I catch a view of myself just last month, wallowing in self-pity and not so convinced that He is as good as I once believed Him to be.

I’m not sure what this is—why I needed to write this, but I did. I am repenting and I am sharing my sin and asking your forgiveness for only giving you pretty pictures, yes, but I want more than that. I want to get better at this. I want to fall on my face quicker and notice my sin sooner and unclench my fists earlier and I think He is teaching me that none of that will happen unless I keep my eyes fixed on Him. FIXED. HE is where my eyes need to be stayed, nowhere else--not on orphans or widows or the poor or the oppressed... on Jesus.

"Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." ~ Hebrews 12:2

2011-06-22T23:58:00.000-04:00

"successful" loving

2010-08-31T17:45:00.011-04:00

I directed the taxi driver towards one of the worst slums in Kenya…he questioned, “You want me to drive through there??” “Yes.” The car stopped where the streets turned to small tunnels of rusted sheet metal; the same ‘streets’ that turned into rivers of sewage when it rained. Ducking under clothes lines and stepping over waste, I squatted down and entered the tiny and dark one room home that houses orphans. I had spent the previous day here with the Mt. Bethel young adult team--it was the day of their departure back to America.

We could hear the distressed cough coming from behind a sheet that divided the sleeping area from the sitting area. It was the precious 8 month old baby, Marion, who I had met several weeks earlier. She was coughing excessively and had a fever… her mom said they had been to a clinic and were given medicine 2 weeks ago: no change. I planned with her mother to come and pick them up the following day so Marion could be seen by a pediatrician. After an hour in the waiting room, we were taken back to triage. When getting her vital signs, the nurse called a doctor in. Two minutes later, we were moved to the E.R. and baby Marion was put on oxygen. This was the first time (of about a million) that I was in a hospital with a sick child and the doctor’s actually decided to admit. Even when I have begged when Carol was so ill I expected her to die in my arms on a moment’s notice, admission procedures are nothing like those of children’s hospitals in America.

She was admitted—as I signed the paperwork as the benefactor for this child’s care, I inwardly trembled as I recalled that my bank account was nearly empty (as I was leaving Kenya the following week). Severe pneumonia is the diagnosis we received and were told again and again that she might not have survived another week in this condition. As darkness approached, I left the hospital to take David (who insisted upon coming along for the adventure, you may remember him from a previous post) back to Mathare and to pick up clothes for Marion and her mom, as they were not expecting to stay the night.

The doctors called me every couple of days and updated me on Marion’s care as I was in a different city, spending my last week in Kenya with the kids at HOREC. She was improving and would be ready for discharge on Sunday, the day I departed for America. I spent that morning at the hospital holding Marion and rejoicing that her smile and sweet personality had returned. She was wearing the same clothes we brought her in 10 days before—a cute Elmo dress that the Mt. Bethel team had given her the week prior. I was concerned when after spending 15-20 minutes with Marion, I heard the same, choking cough that had concerned me so much the day before we brought her to the hospital. After speaking with the doctor, I was handed the bill that almost matched the amount of money I had lived off of in Kenya for the past 4.5 months. I am embarrassed by this reaction, but my face turned red and I had to go to the bathroom and cry a couple of angry/frustrated tears before proceeding to the financial department to pay this huge sum. I could feel the injustice in my bones… a sick baby from one of the roughest places in Kenya—unable to access quality health care unless a wealthy foreigner was there to put the bill on her parent’s credit card and pray that it will be paid off sooner rather than later. Yes, an incredible hospital (one of few with reliable pediatric services), but completely out of reach for 99% of the NATION it resides in. How do they see such great need in their country and continue to close their eyes to the poor and only treat the rich? I was mad because she was going home with the same symptoms I had brought her in with. At the same time, I was assured that this sweet baby girl was worth the money spent… yes, she was. She was ALIVE. Glory.

I heard several weeks after returning to America that baby Marion had died. In the slum… she died. She was dead. Really? Because I took her to the hospital and paid that humongous bill so she would live. Right? I was looking for that result—LIFE, when I took her there. I walked away thinking that result had been reached and was okay with paying any cost because her life was worth it. But now she was dead. I was crushed…

The enemy was quick to bring up the idea that this love I showed Marion and her family was a complete failure. I could literally hear the taunts… It was easy for me to believe she was worth it when I imagined her future years and gave myself some (ridiculously unmerited) credit for her making it there. It was easy for me to believe she was worth it when I saw the joy on her mother’s face as they walked with gratitude out of the pristine hospital with freshly carpeted floors and back into the slum reeking with human feces and rotten food. It was easy for me to believe she was worth it when I was praising Him for letting me be a part of His demonstration of love for this family. I am publicly repenting of this to you—hoping that you can learn from it as I have.

Was this an unsuccessful attempt to care for the orphan and widow (hey, in one foul swoop too)? Was this an unsuccessful attempt at administering justice in a small, small way by enabling a sick child to receive the care she deserves? Was this an unsuccessful attempt at living out His Word? Was this an unsuccessful attempt at LOVING both Marion and her mother?

I heard about some girls in Uganda who had taken in a 35 lb young woman (Nabakosa) who was dying of malnutrition. They fought so hard for this sweet woman. Long nights of holding her in their arms to keep her warm, hours of concocting varying meals that would hopefully put some meat on her weak bones, countless hours of devoted prayer to the Lord on her behalf, broken hearts after begging hospital after hospital to care for this woman medically, their HEARTS poured out. She gained weight, she smiled, she responded to their love, she grew stronger. I followed their blogs and was prayerful and hopeful and thankful that the Lord was using them to speak His love into her life. And then, a week or so later, she died. She died. She was dead. Did they fail? I honestly asked myself that question... did they need an encouraging email "Hey, at least you tried, girls..."?

Even with Lucy and raising money for her treatment.... I have not the slightest idea whether or not she will live to see tomorrow. I don't know that the minute after her gigantic bill is paid, she will not die. That's scary to me... scarier than it should be. I worry about asking you to come alongside of us and joining with us as we do what we can to provide her with the medical care that can perhaps save her life. I worry because financially, I cannot truthfully tell you this is a wise investment. Financially, it's probably pretty stupid to put your money towards this knowing the chances of survival....

But this is what HE is saying to me through all of this... He is saying that loving is worth it. It's worth the tears, it's worth the pain, it's worth the money, it's worth the sacrifice, it's worth the sweat, it's WORTH IT regardless of the results. ALWAYS..... (trust me, I am preaching to myself more than you with all of this because He is longing for me to believe this every day). If His life and death do not teach us that, without even taking into account His WORDs, I think we are deaf and blind and dumb to His character... He IS this love. There is NO greater love.

Marion was loved and that is what He asked for. Nabakoza was loved and that is what He asked for. Lucy is being loved and that is what He asks for.

We are loving our sister who does not know the Lord and we long for her to lean into Him and receive His love... We are opening our wallets and putting money towards giving Lucy the chance to receive treatment and we long for her to be healed and to continue being the mother to her 3 sweet children... We are offering our time and energy to pour into those around us who need to know how deeply He cares for them and we long for them to believe it... all of these scream SUCCESS SUCCESS SUCCESS regardless of outcome. I believe He gave us our longings so we would love them hard and well and persistently... whether our longings are met or not, we are walking in obedience by extending that Love. It's worth it.

I will say more later about Lucy and how we are really just living out Luke 6 and Mark 2 by loving her in this way... but for now just believe with me for a second that He is glorified when we "spend ourselves on behalf of the poor" (isaiah 58), and He is honored when we obey the command to "love others as ourselves"(matthew 22) and "love others as He has loved us"(john 13), and He is magnified when we "lay down our lives for our brothers"(john 15), regardless of the outcome or results or 'ending'.

"The success of love is in the loving - it is not in the result of loving. Of course it is natural in love to want the best for the other person, but whether it turns out that way or not does not determine the value of what we have done.” – Mother Teresa

urgent--beautiful LUCY

2010-07-22T14:27:00.007-04:00

(sorry ahead of time. i did not proofread this and understand it is way too long... just trying to get it out asap because of the urgency! sorry)

Mmmm, it is time. Finally time to tell you just a little bit about four people who have become a huge part of my life over the past several months.

First, there is Lucy… beautiful, joyful, faithful, believing Lucy. A portion of her beauty can be explained by the tribe she belongs to, which is known around the world for their riveting features. But the beauty that far outweighs any other Masaai woman I have met is a result of her joy in the Lord, who is her strength and her song. She is in her 20s and has been very sick for months and months now. When she first became ill, her husband moved out and left her alone—still sick and with three young children to care for. Mercy is 11, Pinky is 3, and Obama is 1. Once she finally had scrounged up enough money to get herself to a hospital, her sickness had progressed to such a degree that doctor after doctor after doctor sent her home to die, saying they could do nothing for her situation. Her bed in the district hospital, where she lay dying as her children watched, was soon seen as wasted by this woman whose death was eminent. She was moved to the floor(yes--a dirty, dusty, stone floor of a crowded hospital) and told that she could no longer steal a bed from someone who might actually live through their illness.

When the good Samaritans (and yes, I think they absolutely deserve that title) found her, she was trying to catch a ride—wasted away, barely standing, and with three small and weary children in tow. They soon learned about her predicament and that she was trying to reach her mother’s home, just adjacent to the Mission (please take a moment to check out their website... sooooo many needs you could help them with also!!!), where these people live and love. They took her in and made a home for her in their clinic… blessing her with company, friendship, a comfortable bed, medical care, and just love. Her children stayed with their grandmother and were able to visit their mom whenever they wanted. She grew stronger and stronger and stronger in both her physical strength and her spiritual strength. I met her soon after this time of restoration began… I sat on her bed as she told the story of her past year. We listened with tears in our eyes and those smiles you get on your face that only God needs to see as she told about His glory. She was like a broken record (a beautiful one) that sang and shouted and whispered and laughed and cried of His glory… what she knew of who He was and His deep care and concern for her. I learned quickly the Kiswahili words for “I’m healed!” because she could not stop saying it as she clasped her hands together, smiled wide, and looked towards Heaven.

Though she continued to proclaim healing, I abhorred my doubting eyes and mind that emerged when I saw the tumors on her foot and leg and reviewed the discharge papers she left the hospital with. We prayed and prayed and prayed that night and rejoiced for what He had done--what He was doing--and what He was still going to do. As we sat on her bed, amazed and rejuvenated by her childlike faith, she shared her concerns about her children. To maintain dignity for this family and only say what I know to be absolutely true, I will just share that she worried about the situation her children were in while she was away from them. I will eventually tell the stories of her beautiful children, because they are very much a part of her (and me), but now is not the time—or rather, this is not the avenue I want to use.

Since cancer was always supposed, never confirmed, we went to the closest city (multiply the most ‘middle of nowhere’ place you’ve ever been by 5000 and then you’ll have an idea of how far out in the bush we are) and got a biopsy of her tumors. I sat there next to her, holding her inquisitive 3 year old as the doctor bluntly told us in both Swahili and English that though the results would not be in for 10 days, she probably had several more months to live. She could not beat this cancer that had ravaged her body without any opposition for so long. Both of us held it together until we got outside of the hospital… Lucy hobbling on crutches, being drained of more and more life with each step; me trying to hold both a 3 year old who refused to walk and a pile of medicines the doctor had prescribed to subsidize the pain that Lucy was enduring. We all sat on the grass just steps from the hospital entrance and cried with abandon. The same door we walked into with hope, we exited with significantly less. The doctor’s “If only you had come to us sooner” rang through my ears. The echo was louder -- “If only her husband had taken her to a doctor instead of leaving her for dead. If only her community had joined together and offered a portion of their earnings to pay for her to be seen by a doctor when this issue first arose. If only the good Samaritans had found her sooner.”

Lucy cried. I cried. Pinky wondered and sat in silence, her eyes never leaving our faces. I looked at Lucy sympathetically (because though the pain I felt in that moment and moments to follow was extremely intense, I know it paled in comparison to her own and so calling it empathy seems deceptive) and reminded her of the promises I knew of our God, though they seemed so much fainter than they were just hours ago. I held onto the hope that we had not seen any biopsy results and until they were in our hands, we had no reason to believe this doctor was correct in his bold assumption. Her tears did not lessen and I think mine increased, but He held us tightly.

We waited, though plans for the future were being discussed and while we said we held onto hope, our actions and attitudes contradicted our words. Mercy. Pinky. Obama. What would come of these little ones who are most precious to a woman who has been told she is leaving this earth momentarily? What would come of these little ones whose earthly defender and protector was exiting the battle prematurely? The results came back and confirmed cancer and all that the doctor had spoken. I regretted how easily I let this news enter my ears… was my hope so easily distinguished? We prayed… alone and collectively. The Mt. Bethel young adult team was able to meet Lucy around this time and the night we spent praying over her was one of the most incredible things I’ve been blessed to be a part of. Ever. When my belief was small and my hope was crushed and my heart was weary and my cheeks were stained and my heart was shattered and my anger was broiling, they were there to counteract it all. They were there with fresh hope and unhindered belief and overflowing compassion. They prayed over her and I was able to be silent, sitting at His feet as I echoed the prayers that I was too weak to speak myself. Lucy was being held by her maker as a room of warriors were face down on the floor begging Him to heal her, BELIEVING Him to heal her. Life went on, but with an increase in expectance and belief as we trusted our King with a renewed and reckless faith.

The children were moved to HOREC and they became a part of my family immediately. As a sister to Lucy, I was (and AM) committed to do every single thing in my power to love and protect them in her absence… forever. Let me explain (and maybe make way too broad of an assumption in trying to do so), when you struggle to feed your children one meal a day and you struggle to find water for your family that will not do more harm than good and you struggle to afford an education for your children and you struggle to keep a roof over your head—you don’t expect to be able to do much else… you don’t expect to be able to rise up and BEAT the cancer, like we do here in America. You accept your lot. You cope. Not to say these people are not fighters—I know no one who fights more diligently, but some battles are not even something they can imagine engaging in. I took the children to say goodbye to their mom as I was leaving the country in just a week and needed to get them settled at Horec. It was surreal… and I don’t think because of the nature of that sort of visit, I think because it was not a justified farewell.

Fast forward a bit (through lots of kid stuff I’ll share eventually)…I get a call my first night back in America. I saw that is was from the Mission, so did not answer—expecting that I was being alerted that Lucy had died. It was not a conversation I wanted to have, so I deferred it and waited to hear that news over voicemail instead. When I listened to the voicemail hours later, I was speechless. A good 6 weeks after Lucy’s biopsy results had been read, a visiting cancer specialist randomly (ha, I know better) happened upon them and looked them over. He called the Mission immediately and relayed that the results were misread, Lucy still has cancer, but it is a type that generally responds very well to radiation therapy. WHAT!? I had to listen 5 or 6 times before it sunk in. Oh me of little faith. “Do you believe that I am able?” He was asking me all along… now He was saying “Really? Still you don’t believe I am bigger than a couple of tumors?” Humbled.

Now we are here. (Cannot believe you made it this far if you’re still following—congrats!) Lucy is currently lying in a hospital bed in the only hospital in all of Kenya that offers cancer treatment. Most Kenyans do not even know that such treatment is available… it’s expensive. Between $10,000 and $12,000 is the amount we have been given… I’m guessing that’s more than Lucy would make in an entire lifetime. We need help. $700 has already been paid and has brought her this far (she’s been there about a week), but they need more money to move forward in her radiation therapy. Hope is not lost!!!! Not because this tumor is not as vicious as some, but because we serve a God who is able to do immeasurably more than my tiny brain can fathom...more than the most brilliant doctor can fathom.

Please pray with me for Lucy and for Obama, Pinky, and Mercy.

Please pray about contributing to the costs of Lucy’s treatment.

Please pray that He will receive utmost GLORY through every bit of this… that Lucy’s unfaltering faith in this God she trusts will be a proclamation to all of His goodness that cannot be contained.

if you want to help financially--please send any contribution (seriously, ANY size... fifty cents is half a dollar more than she has now!) to :
Mt. Bethel UMC
Finance Department
4385 Lower Roswell Rd.
Marietta, GA 30068

and write "Annie Coppedge--Lucy" on the for line.

THANKS!!!!

One last thing... I want you to be able to imagine this, what I expect to be the picture though I cannot see it with my eyes right now:
A young Kenyan woman (who appears far too young to be afflicted by such) laying on her bed in the corner of a dirty and busy and desperate room of people hurrying towards hope. She lifts her head slightly as the nurse refills her IV bag and gives a weak smile--weak in energy, full in warmth. The nurse wonders at her peaceful existence in such a heavy and burdened environment... her peace does not leave her even for a moment. She cringes as she is moved about the bed, but her smile returns to replace the undesired grimace quickly. She is alone, but surrounded by the greatest company. It does not bother her that Jesus is her only companion in this moment... she has enough praise to sing to Him to fill every second of the day. Her fragile hand grasps a songbook that aids her in putting words to her Great Affection. She sings. Not quietly so as to avoid offending any in her presence, but loudly to proclaim her confidence in a Living God. She smiles as she sings... her whole body reveling in His goodness. She is overtaken. For a moment, the pain seems so secondary--a joy if it increases her dependence on her Maker--the one who crafted her in His great and tender hands. He knew she would undergo this pain but He also knew His grace would be enough for her to endure it. He knew He would not leave her for even a breath, but would pull her so close to Himself that she could breathe her breaths in sync with His. She sings. Her smile grows and she looks around to see the smiles around her. She puts the songbook down and returns to her Bible, reveling in the fact that she is stunned by His character upon every single word that lifts from the page. She is His. She will proclaim His glory until her last breath, whether two days from now or 60 years down the road. She trusts... not because of anything in herself but because of His residence in the depths of her. She knows Him and that is why she believes.

Coming home

2010-06-26T15:55:00.002-04:00

I know it has been a long time since I posted… I think as soon as I realized that my plane ticket said I was leaving Africa in one month, taking out my computer and stealing time to update moved to my last priority. Anyway, I come back home tomorrow so I figured I should touch base a bit before I board the plane.

Maybe I am being dramatic or making a bold statement that sounds exaggerated to everyone but me, but I have never felt so much pain in my entire life … I’ve experienced more heartache in these past four months than in my 23.5 previous years combined. The joy I have experienced has been free and exhilarating; the pain I have experienced is raw and abrasive. However offensive or pleasant they are to me, they are REAL and pure. I have never felt more alive. I go to bed each night exhausted and fully aware that I am living… I am alive. I finally know firsthand how love IS vulnerability. When I love, I am putting my heart in someone else’s hands and of course it will be wrecked and wrung, but it’s how I know I am on the right course. It makes me feel alive, like I have a pulse and my heart is not beating for myself alone, but for others thanks to His amazing grace.

All that to say, I will not be able to wrap my ‘experience’ up into several happy words when you ask me ‘How was Kenya??’ in passing. It might be possible, but I am not interested in finding out how to summarize 4 months of life into a sentence. I don’t see this as an ‘experience’ whatsoever…. this is just life. It does not need to be categorized as a defined “event or occurrence that leaves an impression on someone.” I don’t need to be characterized as ‘someone who is passionate about social injustice’ or ‘someone who enjoys international mission experiences.’ I want to move away from loving deeply--whether in Africa, East Cobb, the moon, or Guatemala--being an isolated event. It is just life. So while I’d love to sit down and talk about what He has been teaching me and how He’s been allowing me to take part in His ministry over the past few months, I don’t want to sit down and talk with you about my “Kenya experience.” The people I spend my days with here are forever a part of me… they’re not part of an occurrence that left a mark on me, they are my brothers and sisters and children.

God is great and He is busy everywhere… how I would love it if we could sit down and talk—you sharing what He is doing in your geographical location, me sharing what he is doing in mine, and together rejoicing that He is faithful and true and compassionate and loving and good all over the globe. The same God that is guiding you through loving your coworkers and teaching you how to follow the Holy Spirit’s guidance in the corporate world is the same one riding with me to the hospital with a sick child or holding a child as they say goodbye to their mother who is days from death. We are both learning to abide in Him and asking Him to rid us of ourselves so He can reign in us, our days just hold different things.

Also, random side note—I believe that PA school or whatever sort of medical training I spoke about in my last blog is being postponed. Again, I have no idea and am living literally minute by minute. But it seems He has plans for me to invest in some children here in Kenya right now instead of leaving to begin school. I am ready and willing and eager to see where He leads. I also do not know when I am returning to Kenya… am praying to return as soon as possible, though I will need to spend time earning/raising money before I can come back. I’ll post pictures on facebook soon (faster internet in USA will bring more pictures and videos, too) and will update the blog and introduce you to some people soon.

Sorry that was a really random post…. I am very sad to leave my kids but am excited to see you and spend time with my family (especially Cade, baby Elliott, and my dog). Praying He brings me back just as soon as He can, but trusting Him to sustain me until then.

Some news...

2010-05-28T16:40:00.003-04:00

Hi....... sorry it has been ages since I've posted. As usual, things have been CRAZY and I have not been able to get internet (except on my phone). I actually like life a lot better here without internet, I think--but I am glad to have it so I can keep in touch with you guys.

So much has been going on in my heart and mind over the past month and I've wanted to share--but felt like I needed to 'have things figured out' before I posted. I could have told you pretty much the same thing I'm about to tell you now several weeks ago--but I waited. Now I am still in the same position but decided to just share where I am and ask for prayers as I discern His will and learn how to distinguish His voice in this matter.

I thought I was coming to Kenya to love on some children who had been through a traumatizing experience. That was my 1 minute answer when people asked what I'd be 'doing'. I have spent probably at least 100 hours of the past 3 months in hospitals with children... some sick with AIDS, some with common childhood illnesses that have become worse due to lack of medical care, some who are 15 years old and have never seen a doctor but experience seizures daily, some who were covered in pussy wounds that were never healing with the conditions the child lived in, some whose malnutrition has stunted their growth so much they are assumed to be 5 years younger than they are, some whose bodies have been ruled by parasites and worms because they are drinking unclean water or eating badly prepared food. Not a week has gone by that I have not stepped foot in some kind of medical facility. Not a week has gone by that I have not met someone who needed medical treatment but could not afford it. Not a week has gone by that one of my babies at HOREC has not awoken during the night with illness. Not a week has gone by that my heart has not literally ached for the sick here in Kenya. I have fought with doctors to tears about the kind of care they provide these children. I have spent probably the amount I would spend on gas for two weeks in America on buying simple medicine that will remove the worms that are infesting so many children here. I have sat in waiting room after waiting room, knowing that unfortunately--eventually seeing the doctor will not be worth the wait. I have tried so hard to reason with people who have different beliefs about medical treatment and when it is needed. And none of those small acts have been done without God speaking so clearly to my heart and putting a yearning within me to fight with every fiber of my being for the care of these children. He has told me to do something more than loving (which could easily stand on it's own) and to learn how to care for these children myself, medically. To sacrifice the time, brain power, and distance to learn how to allow His love in me to express itself in an additional way.

He has made some things clear to me and I will share them, even though they are not organized in my mind--I trust He will provide that in due time. I will leave Kenya at some point and complete a graduate degree to become a Physician's Assistant. I will, God-willing, follow Him back here (where my heart is) and love these kids who are dying from HIV in a new way. I want to know their names--all of them. I want to remember them--may they never be forgotten. I want to love them when their parents are too sick/have died and are unable. I want them to have a beautiful haven to live in when they are in their last months on this earth. I want love to be their medicine over any other medically prescribed treatment. I have seen how His love heals.

I don't know when I am coming back to start this endeavor and to be honest, I do not want to come back. It is simply an act of obedience and leaving these people seems impossible. The easy thing to do is to stay here forever--I am content here. But He has clearly asked me to trust Him and move in this and I am willing, whether grudgingly or not (working through that but will not lie--I am not joyfully skipping back to America to start this long and strenuous process away from the ones I long to love). I thought I needed to come back in June so I can get started right away, but I'm just not sure. The thought of leaving now has had me in tears daily. I am thankful He has revealed His will to me, but it's not what I wanted. I was not asking for it... I was content being here forever, the medically untrained me. I was looking into adopting children He's put in my path and finding a place to live and invite people to. He told me to wait.

Loving these kids is enough. It's more than enough. But obedience to Him for me is to listen and walk towards what He has asked of me and as painful as it is, I will do it. I have no idea whether I will be starting the prerequisites for PA school on July 6th or August 14th or January 5th or August of 2020. I wanted to wait until I knew that detail to tell you, but I don't know and may not know until the day before I either start school or board a plane. I would appreciate your prayers so much as I learn what it is to obey even when it means (temporarily) tearing my attached heart away (physically) from those I have fallen in love with here.

Faces

2010-05-10T07:12:00.004-04:00

I generally don’t like statistics because they stay in my head and I have trouble translating them to a language my heart can comprehend. When I hear that 40 children die of AIDS per hour, it shakes me. My jaw drops and I wonder if that number is real or is just a poor estimation used to shock the audience. I try to do the math in my head and the instantaneous spinning that ensues causes me to give up in depression as the number painfully permeates my mind. I don’t want to think about it. I want to remove it from my thoughts so I can enjoy my day and focus on remaining positive in the midst of my own circumstances. 250 children lose a parent to AIDS every hour? Really?? WHERE are these kids because I am not seeing them in East Cobb… in Georgia… in the United States.

Do we know what 40 kids dying in ONE hour even looks like??? You send your child to school one morning and hour by hour, entire classrooms are wiped out leaving no one but a stunned teacher. During the same hour that a classroom is wiped out, 250 children are left motherless or fatherless due to this same disease that killed the classroom next door. EVERY HOUR. This world is big but it is not big enough that we should be able to hide our faces from these children that represent this statistic. Maybe we begin to think of our own families—the kids we babysit, our neighbors, our own children, our nephews and nieces. We try to make it personal, however difficult and unpleasant that is. It is farfetched to imagine the people I know and love in this situation, so I put out the fire that was lit when I heard this statistic and wish whoever it is that represents these numbers the best. It’s unhealthy to stay in the state of intellectual shock these numbers initiated and my mind slowly sinks into a depression (brief, if at all) and then denial and avoidance as I am responsible for just too many things to add this to my list.

But what if the fire that was started when I heard these numbers roared…. What if I let the Holy Spirit continue igniting the flames instead of allowing my mind(which takes it’s responsibility of caring for me very seriously) to distinguish them before I started to feel the burn? What if the flames continued to grow and grow and grow until they began spreading to others? What if we all set out, united and hearts ablaze, to find out just what this ‘true religion’ we hear James talk about looks like? To ‘look after’ the orphans and widows – what does this mean? It means to take responsibility for them. It means to care about ourselves less so we can care about them more. It means seeking them out and finding out how we can encourage and love them. It means believing His words in Matthew 25 that HE is the one we are serving when we serve them. It means not seeing this as a special duty that some are worthy of or some are especially drawn to and others are not. It means accepting that the message is the same in every Bible—this is not just in the ‘mission minded believer’ Bible version. Mother Theresa was reading the same Bible we read. She knew the same Jesus we know. She followed the same Jesus we follow to the best of her ability. This is not a portion of Scripture God decided to include so that pastors would have something to preach about on Missions Sunday or when the homeless shelter down the street needed someone to buy them all beds.

I don’t even believe this thought of caring for our brothers and sisters is so represented in Scripture (and through the LIFE He lived and told us to mimic) because they NEED us so much—because we have oh so much to offer them and without us, they would cease to survive. I really and truly believe we need them far more than they need us (us, the ones who think we have so much to offer them). Maybe this is a controversial thought that will not be well-received, but I don’t believe for one second that the Garden would have collapsed if Mt. Bethel had not stepped up and supported them and I don’t believe that the orphans at HOREC children’s home would not experience His love if I were not there and constantly willing to be a channel of that Love. I do believe that His Spirit is always desiring to lead us and sanctify us and mold us and when we are listening and willing to move, He accepts our surrender and allows us to be part of what He’s doing here… I do believe that He humbly lifted up some hearts that were bowed down and allowed them to be a part of His restoration and renewal at the Garden and here at HOREC. What an incredible gift… but I don’t think He said “hey, you know what the kids of HOREC need right now? Some Annie Coppedge. That’d really do them well…” Ha… that makes me laugh even to consider. I do believe, however, that He cares so deeply for the kids at HOREC and when He sees people who are on their faces begging to be used by Him--yeah people who are bad at loving their family and who are way too selfish for their own good and who would score less than 10% on a Bible trivia quiz and who have no idea what they’re doing most of the time—He rewards that and lets them take part in His loving.

Anyway, as always I am rambling (true to the title of this blog site), but just want to tell you that He is allowing me to be Him right now and He is allowing me to touch Him everyday through the people that represent these statistics—a very small portion of these statistics. I see their faces when I wake up every morning and until my eyes shut when I go to sleep. I hold their hands. I tickle them until we are both laughing too hard to continue. I tuck them into bed at night. I hold them as they cry about something silly—but far from insignificant in a 4 year old mind. I hold back tears as I watch the face they make as they drink their dissolved, bitter tablets because their bodies are too exhausted to swallow the 17 pills they require each day. I hold them close as they chew their bitter tablets because they’re simply too young to have mastered the art of swallowing pills. I fight off overwhelming anger as I think about how this child was simply passed this disease by their now-absent parent… having done absolutely nothing to deserve this suffering. I ask God again and again, why this precious child must endure such hardship and suffering because of MY sin, because of YOUR sin. I make them put on clothes even when they’ve prefer to be naked-a common desire among preschool boys worldwide. They throw rocks at me when they are angry and do not know how to express it any other way. They kiss me on the cheek and tell me they love me at the most random and wonderful times. They fall asleep in my lap and sometimes we both are wet by the time they wake up. Their sticky hands touch my face and run through my hair and they try to tickle me like I tickle them, but it feels more like pinching. They are kids. They run, they jump, they try to do cartwheels, they can do a million handstands a day and it never loses it’s thrill. They stub their toes, they fall off the swing and skin their knees, they put their shoes on the wrong feet, they spill their drink all over the carpet, they yell really loudly at inappropriate times, they cry when someone calls them a copy cat, they color on the walls, they put their underwear on backwards, they confuse certain words and it is too cute to correct them, they see every single object on this earth as a toy and know no boundaries as to what their creative minds can view as entertainment, they pick the cabbage out of their beans, they lick their plate when they’re done, they somehow manage to add a new stain to their clothes daily…. They’re kids. They are who God created children to be and they’re beautiful. Simultaneously, they ARE these shocking numbers.

David Platt explores James 1:27 in a sermon and he explains that the Greek word for ‘to look after’ as James uses is seen 11 times in Scripture. Time and time again, the word is used to describe the way God came to LOOK AFTER us…to show concern for us…to take responsibility for us..to care for us. And then, it begins to describe the way the recipients of this care and concern rise up to do the same for His people. To top it off—the same word is used in Matthew 25 as He tells us that when we care, have concern for, take responsibility for the sick-the hungry-the prisoner-the poor… we’re doing it for HIM. The opposite of this word in the New Testament means to forget and ultimately, to neglect. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . So, if we are not looking after, showing concern for, caring for, taking responsibility for these kids – should I even say it? We are choosing NOT to seek out and take responsibility for them… and are thus actively forgetting them. I have no doubt that if we could see their faces in our weekly children’s church service or in our own houses we would NOT be neglecting them, we’d be living out this true religion as day proceeds day. But is that a valid excuse? ‘Sorry, God—surely you understand that I would be doing this if these kids showed up on my doorstep. You know that right? If I ever meet an orphan, I promise to give them some new clothes and buy them a meal.’ God wants us to see the 15 million orphans from AIDS and He wants us to touch the 147 million orphans and He wants us to encounter Him as we give our lives for their sake. This is where we will find Him… I just don’t know that we’re looking for Him here.

here He is…
(just a brief, brief preview)
Dan

Carol

Mary and Tomato

Joseph

Evelyn

His love is better than life...

2010-05-03T07:38:00.003-04:00

Today I thought I was spending all day at a baby home in Nairobi—a home for 55 little ones who have been abandoned by their families. Some were found in trash cans, others in pit latrines, some on the road side, others wrapped in bags, some had been buried alive, others left at hospitals, some dropped off outside the gate of the home, others brought by well-wishers.

Phoebe and I have driven past the home several times and always wanted to stop, so last Sunday on the way to church, we stopped. Of course we could not leave once we were greeted by those precious faces grabbing at our knees, so we missed church. This home is incredible…. it’s a real haven for these babies. I cannot say enough wonderful things about what they’re doing for these kids and how they’re doing it. I am so thankful those babies have such a wonderful, loving environment to live in until they are adopted (another great thing about this home: they really really try to find parents for these kids so they get that family life instead of living their entire lives in a home with 54 other kids.) Anyway, I decided to start coming once a week and spending the day with these babies. It was a purely selfish decision, but one that I was so so excited about.

When I got there, I was given no instruction, but was welcomed and trusted (it shocked me that such an established home did not even need my name before I cared for their babies). I started playing with the little 2ish year old munchkins. I was speaking to them in Swahili (luckily a 2 year old Kenyan and I have the same size vocabulary so I can get by pretty well) until I was told that they only speak English. What? Bizarre, but it makes sense if they are hoping to be adopted by foreigners. Anyway, it was really difficult to talk to these sweet babies with chubby Kenyan faces and Kenyan eyes and Kenyan names in English. They were precious and we had fun and I just kept wondering around until I found a new baby to play with. After about 2 hours, every single baby—1 week to 3 years was asleep (or supposed to be sleeping). I decided to leave instead of waiting until they woke up… the volunteer to baby ratio was ridiculously high, I practically had to fight people to have a little one to myself. :) Anyway, I left and began walking towards a coffee house to catch up on emails before Phoebe got off work.

The fact that I can walk by myself in Nairobi tells you it is a very affluent area—mzungus (white people) everywhere and I felt perfectly safe walking around alone, as I was in good company(ie. if someone wanted a young white girl to harass, they have a large pool to pick from in this area). As I approached my destination, I passed a woman and a baby sitting on the curb. The baby smiled and the mom humbly outstretched her arm in my direction. I looked in their eyes, smiled, and kept walking. So, I did not give them money (my friends who are/have been homeless in Atlanta and Athens have taught me to avoid this type of giving)-I kept walking and said a prayer for them. Maybe .5 seconds later, He interrupted my well-intentioned prayer to tell me to not feel guilty about not giving them my money, but to just give them myself instead. There is FREEDOM in the Spirit! He reminds me again and again (thankfully because I'm a coward) to claim this power and WALK IN IT!!!! I went and bought fruit and got 2 take away chais (Kenyan tea) at the coffee house I was going to. I took it back to them and got to sit down and fellowship with Gladys, Antony, and baby David. David immediately reached for me and Gladys held him back saying “no, no. He’s so dirty!” in Swahili. I tried my best to say “It’s okay. Dirty babies are my favorite. I am dirty too. Come baby.” He came to me and yeah, I guess he was dirty… but there was nothing further from my mind than caring about whether his filth covered me because I chose to hold him and love him and pray for him. Sweet Antony was 6 years old, which Gladys did not even need to tell me – the absence of his two front teeth spoke for itself. We laughed and talked like old friends… dirty little David was the baby God wanted me to spend my day with.

These are the people I want to love—I want my best friends to be these people—I want to watch David grow up into a sweet little Kenyan gentleman—I want to learn from them and stare into His face when I look in their eyes. It doesn’t matter if I look like a fool sitting on a curb laughing with friends who might be a little bit dirtier than me or struggle a bit more to get their next meal… It doesn’t matter if people stare and scoff and don’t want to shake my hand after I’ve held a baby who has not been ‘clean’ since he was in the womb… It doesn’t matter if I am ALWAYS alone—if no one is ever sitting with us… It doesn’t matter if I can’t afford to get coffee now when I go to work on my computer… It doesn’t matter. None of it matters…. It just doesn’t. Truly truly truly nothing matters except that we LIVE like we are given the authority He has anointed us with when He gave us His Spirit!!!!!!!!! He is constantly putting people in front of us to love (and the part we forget is that they have the same purpose for US!) and if we listen to His voice and do it, our reward is higher than any judgment passed for our association with ‘these people.’

I am Gladys (and I actually think she’d take that offensively). “I wonder how she got there??? Did something terrible happen to her or did she get to that place on her own? Irresponsibility. Well, she gets what she deserves. Those poor kids who have to put up with that type of mother. People these days want everything to be handed to them. They know if they stick their hand out on a busy street, they will be able to get enough money to last until tomorrow. That is what is wrong with these people.” YOU are Gladys. If I am correct, she could have done less than one thing right in her entire life and maybe that is something for us to look down upon, maybe that makes her unworthy of OUR love… but what about our Father? Did we have to be clean to come to Him? Maybe you did, but I didn’t and if that was the case… I’d still be furiously scrubbing off the filth (and getting nowhere). He sees Gladys and he sees her humbling herself on a curbside so that her sweet boys can eat. He sees that she is dirty—do you think He thinks twice about scooping her up in His arms? Really? Then why do we? Ah.

God is jealously in love with the three I shared chai with today… He will do anything to gain their love and praise with each day that passes. He doesn’t NEED me, or you, to be an expression of this extravagant love He has for them, but He allows us—He asks us to. The King of Kings, who is capable of all things, asks us to take responsibility in living out what we’ve seen Him live. What an honor and I am continually repenting of not joyfully taking that responsibility daily. It’s not an obligation, it’s a joy. We get to share in His joy when His children release their grip on the things that don’t please and fall into Him… when I see Gladys and Antony and David in Heaven, I don’t expect (or want) for them to recognize me and thank me for the teeny tiny act of love He allowed me to pass to them. I do expect though to pass them at some point as we join in praise for our Father, together, and I believe our praise will become richer as we look into each other’s eyes and have yet another reason to thank Him—for showing Himself to us in others when we display His grace on earth. How sweet He is for giving Gladys, with her tattered clothes and callused hands, the opportunity to display His love to me. How sweet He is for letting me hold precious little David and produce a smile on his face that gave me chills and fulfilled so many desires in my heart. How sweet He is for introducing me to Antony and showing me that his big smiles and happy heart show that God’s shield around Him is thick, so I need not worry about Him.

I love Him and I love loving Him and I love loving His people—serving Him is a true delight and honor.

Sweet sweet SWEET John...

2010-04-30T13:36:00.001-04:00

When several days have passed and my heart has not been re-broken(upon introduction) for a new child, family, situation, I am thankful for a rest but know my eyes will be opened to something else soon. Even though I have only been living this life for around 2 months, I pray every day that seeing these things/this type of suffering is never normal, however ‘common’ they are. The thought that I would ever get to a place where coming upon an abandoned child or a starving family or a sick baby does not cause the same deep emotions and heart pain I am experiencing nearly everyday scares me to death. The pain is not enjoyable but it makes me feel so close to Him—like we are feeling the same thing together for these people. I will take the fiercest love-induced pain over numbness ANY DAY.

Today, I haphazardly ended up going with a friend to meet a family in the community that he checks on periodically (it’s near HOREC). I had little expectations and just prayed this morning that He would prepare me for anything—expecting to meet another family who is struggling financially and discerning how it is He wants me to respond to the needs I see. As we walked towards their home, I had a poor attitude as the houses surrounding this one seemed fairly nice and I was not looking forward to what I expected in that moment….meeting (and being asked to help) someone who spent all of their money on a ‘nice’ house and now can’t afford to feed their children. We came upon the home—an old mosquito net covering several chickens in the first thing I saw. I thought “okay, they have chickens. They cannot be thaaaat poor. They can sell the eggs and breed more chickens and eat/sell the meat.” When no one answered as we knocked, we went into the house. I felt uneasy about going in while they were out, but my friend insisted. When we went in, I would have guessed no one lived there—that it was abandoned. Surely no one lived here, we had the wrong house and that is why no one answered. But then as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw John. My friend greeted him and as my eyes continued adjusting to the pitch black, I walked over and sat on the bed next to John-I could finally make out his face. We greeted each other…. Me by looking in his eyes and holding his hand, he by touching my face and making a groaning noise.

He was the size of a 5 year old but his eyes suggested he was older. He was wearing a dirty sweatshirt and nothing else. As I sat next to him and took in his gaze, I noticed he was tied to the bed. It soon made sense as I learned quickly that it was not just his mind that was affected, but his body too. He had little muscle control and could hold his head up for only around 15 seconds before it would drop. He was covered in drool and if you could see my arm now, you would think I had been attacked by a cat as his way of communicating with me was grabbing/scratching my arm and touching my face. His eyes never diverting from mine, they showed a bit of pain but more joy than pain. A small girl came in (Wangeshi-his sister who is 3 years old) with orange cornrows. I used to always think it was so cute that some kids had orangeish hair, but then I learned it is a sign of extreme malnutrition. After Wangeshi, a teenage girl arrived (Susan-14 year old sister)—she had been fetching water and apologized for not being there to receive us when we arrived. The excitement that filled John’s entire body when she walked into the house brought tears to my eyes. He cannot hold his head up by himself, but this boy can dance when he sees someone he loves! Also, I got to see the most beautiful smile appear and not depart for the rest of our time there.

Susan and I untied him from the bed and dressed him—it was obvious he was eager to be moved from the bed. We held his arms and he showed off by standing tall and strong and then we danced some more and laughed a lot. He became tired after several minutes of this, so Susan took him outside and placed him on the ground. Here he ran around (or scooted on his butt) the sun-covered yard with such delight. Every second our eyes moved from him, we found him eating rocks, trash, or chicken poop—he needed much supervision but it was clear he received so much joy from this small act of freedom. His mother later arrived from working in a field nearby and graciously offered us tea. The poorest people are absolutely the most generous—I see that every day. We were luckily able to blame full stomachs to resist the generous offer that would surely leave them just a bit deeper in poverty than they were when we came. Grace, the mother of John, Susan, Ruth, Joyce, and Wangeshi exemplified just what her name suggested. GRACE. Since birth, John (age 15—yes. 15. The size of a 5 year old.) has been unable to walk/mentally unable to communicate. She told me he has never seen a doctor—I clarified about a million and five times because this shocked me. He has never been to a doctor, but she told me he has epilepsy which is to blame for his physical and mental condition. I have no idea of the accuracy of this, but it is all I have heard so far.

Imagine your first born is in this state-then you have another child to care for. And another. And another. And another(the first 4 children are all within 4 years of each other). Your husband eventually left you because you produced this sort of baby (who is usually abandoned to die and not provided for as it is an embarrassment to the village/sign of a curse). So now you are alone and caring for 5 children-one special needs. How is she supposed to work? Even when the children are older, can she leave this boy alone by himself? Can she work hard enough to provide for them AND afford to take him to see a doctor? And what if the doctor prescribes medication? How in the world will she find a way to pay for that? He needs a wheelchair? If getting food on the table is this big of a problem, how will the family be able to afford this large added expense. Well, this woman-Grace, has been given enough grace to take care of this sweet child for 15 years. No, he is not in the finest occupational/physical/speech therapy and yes, he is usually covered in drool and is not living the life she wants for him, but she has given her life to care for him. She works SO hard and I know this because my friend has watched her for years and been amazed with her determination. She is willing to do any and every thing to enable her children to survive.

I did not have my camera with me because it’s big and bulky and I just don’t like carrying it with me… feel too much like a sight seer. But, next time I go to visit John and the family, I will take pictures to share. I will show you his sweet smile and hope to video tape his precious dance. :)

I want to take him to the hospital—I know of one here through a friend that specializes in pediatric orthopedic cases. I am hoping to take John as soon as I can… does anyone want to help with this? Right now I have no earthly idea what the medical plan will be – What is his diagnosis? Is treatment even available? What does treatment plan look like? I have so many questions right now but there are so so so many things that can be done to help this family. Even if no medical improvements can be made for John (though I am praying that something can be done), we can help to clothe their children-assist with food so that little Wangeshi can have black braids instead of orange ones-improve the living conditions so John is in a safer environment-approach the throne on their behalf. So much. I refuse to believe we are helpless because his legs might never work and his brain damage is too severe to reverse… that is a lie. It is a lie to believe that nothing can be done, we just have to figure out what needs to be done and how to do it. That is what I am doing here—I am seeing the needs because He is peeling back my eyes and I am seeing things that need to be shared with other believers. We are all called to care for the poor, hungry, sick, orphaned and if I keep what/WHO I see here to myself and try to do this alone, I am doing you a disservice as my brother or sister in Him. Perhaps you will never feel John touch your face and receive his love in that way and perhaps you will never meet his precious family… but actually, I was thinking about how I think he will be able to run and jump and talk and play and whatever else he’s been missing out on during his time on this earth once He is with the Lord—what an incredible reunion he will have with those of you who pray for him; those of you that contribute to help me pay his medical bills; those of who share God’s affection for him. That is not supposed to be a corny slogan to put at the end of a blogpost so people feel guilty and decide to give their prayers, their money, their things… He SAYS again and again we will be so highly rewarded in Heaven when we care for these people on earth and I truly think the greatest reward I can imagine will be the reuniting of us with these friends in Heaven—where all of the pain, injustice, fear, suffering is GONE. Where we are together singing, in every tongue, praises to the Father who has brought us to Himself, despite all of the crap any of us were subject to on this earth. Just thoughts. Will post pictures/more info as soon as I have them. Thanks for caring, because I know you do and I am really thankful for that.

David!!

2010-04-26T13:54:00.011-04:00

I was in Mathare slum yesterday visiting a children’s home I had been to the week before. We saw incredible needs last time we were there, so planned to go back as soon as we could to take food, supplies, and medicines for the children. We found the children in a similar state yesterday—young ones who were crawling, toddling, or running around half naked (surely to avoid the wet pants as diapers are a true luxury here); stomachs distended in malnutrition; barefoot and torn up feet (keep in mind the common scenery in slums is scrap metal, trash, and sewage—both animal and human); worms, open wounds, scabies, parasites, measles, malaria far too common.

I had planned to spend the day walking around cleaning/bandaging wounds, giving out de-worming and antifungal medicines, rehydrating, and just trying to check each child to see how they were looking and if any needed medical care as well as playing with the children and showing them as much love as I could squeeze into a day. I did do some of that but my day changed drastically when the police arrived in the slum with a sad, lost, tiny boy. His name is David.

All we know of David is his name. He was abandoned by his mother and was found by the police and referred to this home. His lips were swollen and cracked, his eyes were sad and tired, his body was lethargic and weak, his spirit was crushed, his pants were soiled, his body was filthy, his stomach was empty. I am guessing he was around 3 or 4 years old. I picked him up and instantly knew putting him down, ever, would be so difficult. His pants were changed; I did my best to bathe him with baby wipes; he guzzled the rehydration solution I gave him and somehow his teeny tiny body made enough room for two full plates of food that I fed him bite by bite; and he clung tightly to my neck the whole time. I don’t know how long he had been alone but his eyes told the story for him. He was lost, confused, and weary… at a point of complete exhaustion as he seemed to give into his recent fate.

His eyes were curious—he watched as life spun on around him. He received the humble offering God allowed me to give with silent thanksgiving and I am still learning how to receive the immense love that God allowed him to show me. I have never in my life seen Jesus so clearly as I did in David’s eyes. It gave me chills. The Lord allowed me to touch Him and hold Him tightly and wipe His snotty nose and let Him rest His head on my shoulder and pray for Him without ceasing as I rubbed his back. I am eternally grateful that He allowed me to be with Him so intimately. Since meeting David, he has not left my thoughts for even one minute. Please pray with me that He would speak clearly and allow me to discern how it is He wants me to love this child. Right now it looks like visiting him as often as I possibly can (I usually leave HOREC about once a week to check on other kids/go to church/run errands/etc.) and praying for him every second of every day. I am so willing to do more though and am praying that He allows me the opportunity to love HIM by loving David with my everything. I got to see him today and he's already looking so much better after food, water, sleep. I got to hear him laugh for the first time... incredible.

Please pray for his sweet heart. His undefiled heart that already knows what it is to be abandoned by those who are supposed to care for him in this world… something that most of us will never know. Let the Spirit direct you how to pray but I just ask that you approach the throne for Him and pray He can feel Psalm 27:10(my mother and father may forsake me but the Lord will always receive me) in his bones. May the Spirit of the Lord come down… may the power of the Lord come down from Heaven and shake the earth.

2010-04-20T23:25:00.000-04:00

Hey guys—I wanted to clarify some confusing things about my last post:

1. There are already guards in place at HOREC—since the last attempted
break-in (the one I wrote about two posts ago), people stepped up
immediately and hired the guards to start the night following the
incident….incredible!! So, the money anyone gives for security at
HOREC will be used to maintain the guards (we’d love to be able to
keep them permanently rather than just for this month that they have
been paid for) and to finish funding the electric fence that was
started in November.

2. If it is security you are interested in funding, you can go
directly to www.brightpointforchildren.org and click on “Donate Now.”
Then you can check ‘general donation’ and write that you wish for it
to go towards HOREC (or Strong Tower) in the comment box. They will
send you a tax receipt in the mail. Also, check out their webpage and
look around—there are numerous children who need to be sponsored, some
of whom are my kids at HOREC.

3. If you wish to send a check, let me
give you the address of my church there:

Mt. Bethel United Methodist Church
4385 Lower Roswell Road
Marietta, GA 30068

Write Annie Coppedge/Kenya on the for line of the check and you will
receive a tax receipt in the mail. Contact Gaylyn Kelly if you have
questions. Gaylyn.kelly@mtbethel.org

4. If you wish to send a package to Kenya, you can send it to my
friend Phoebe. She suggests the best/safest/cheapest way to send to
Kenya is through DHL. You can send any packages to:

Phoebe Muthoni Maina
62535-00200
Nairobi, Kenya

**please let me know if/when you send one so that I can know to be on
the lookout for it’s arrival. Thanks so much! annie.coppedge@gmail.com

5. Feel free to contact me with any questions… I might be a little bit
slow to reply, but I promise it will be within 3 days or so.

Thanks so much everyone for your generosity…. I am so very thankful!!!

How to help

2010-04-15T13:27:00.004-04:00

This is going to be long, I can feel it. If you do not want to read it all—at least read the second half please. Ha.

I have major pride issues and asking for help with ANYTHING... even just accepting help is so difficult for me. It always has been. There is nothing good about this... please do not mistake it for humility or any other noble characteristic-it's all pride. Trust me, I've tried my hardest to convince myself otherwise. I did not work instead of raising support when I decided to move to Kenya because I love to answer phones and work in concession stands... I worked because I would rather take the time and energy to do things on my own than to humble myself and accept the support of those who are willing and CALLED to advance the kingdom in this way. Some of you gave anyway and I see that as God's infinite grace displayed to me despite my heart in need of so much refinement.

Anyway, things have changed... I still struggle with debilitating pride that prevents me from asking for help for myself, but now I am asking on behalf of those whose voices are muddled as they aim to travel from this continent to the next. There are so many barriers between their voices and our ears. Now I am living it--my eyes are peeled back, my ears cannot silence the cries no matter how hard I try, and I am touching the pain with my hands. Now instead of asking for supposed needs of kids I have not met, I am seeing the extremity of needs and begging for your assistance because I have realized very quickly that Acts 2 does not happen without accepting assistance from members in the community. I cannot just set out to provide assistance for the community as ONE. Not sure if that makes sense... it is all just a big mess in my head, but I wanted to try to explain it before the paragraphs that follow this.

The needs here are limitless. The most urgent is the need for LOVE; but the incredible thing is that there are so many ways to show this Love. I don't want you to just read this blog or keep up with my facebook statuses or listen to me talk about these kids... I want you to be a part of this with me. So many of you already are in the hugest way--prayer. I cannot tell you how much peace I receive daily from knowing that you all are praying for these children with me.... that I am not the only one God is hearing their names from. These children do not have parents and I know that each of you with children put so much love and care into constantly speaking to the Father on their behalf. I know it's true--I've watched it and admired it and yearned to be a part of. It is enough that the names of every one of these children is inscribed on the palm of His hand... that is MORE than enough. But, for these children to be covered in prayer like yours are--the thought of that brings tears to my eyes. Eventually I will need your help setting these kids up with people to pray over them specifically--by name. I want you to know their hearts, their dreams, their fears so that you can pray best for them. I am praying for them but there are so many, thought I could spread the wealth. :) Or just accept the help of community... Also, your prayers are the greatest gift you can give me and I will never be able to thank you enough.

So now, I am asking you (and most of you do not need to be asked—you have been asking ME how to help since day one… and no, I have not and will not stop praising Him for your willing and generous hearts) to be a part of this, or continue being a part of this. I am going to be telling you of the needs I come into contact with as they arise. I have been here for 2 months and have already seen enough needs to last me a lifetime if I intend on fulfilling them with my own means. God has asked me to respond to the needs He shows me here and I am doing my best—but He has shown me how foolish I was to believe that this is something I am supposed to do by myself. Right now I will briefly describe some current needs and will be in contact as soon as more arise, trusting that nothing will be given as an obligation—just returning what He has given you. Also, one of my greatest pet peeves in the world (and I know I will offend some people with this… sorry) is when support letters end with “and if you don’t feel like you can give at this time… please at least pray.” Please please please, I pray, know that no tangible gift you could give to me or to these children is more coveted than your prayers. Truly. I mean that with every ounce of my being… I would rather have you approaching the throne for these motherless and fatherless children than have you paying for each and every one of them to be fully fed, educated, and housed for the rest of their lives. Believe me, please. So here we go….

Needs:
HOREC-->
-security guards (2 armed guards at night to protect the home from gangs that have repeatedly attempted-and once succeeded- to break in during the night)
-electric fence (razor wire is in place, we just need help funding the electric wiring)
-medical fund for kids (the HIV+ children at HOREC go to a free clinic that provides their antiretrovirals and medicine to combat the opportunistic infections that arise; however, when the children need to be admitted/need special lab tests and further care/get sick on the weekends, funds are extremely limited.)
*also, I feel very led to explore other homes where HIV+ children reside and find out how we can be of assistance in taking the best care of these kids. I am trusting that eventually He will provide the means for a children’s hospice center and/or rehabilitation center to care for these kids who are dealing with AIDS in unfavorable circumstances. Until then, I will pray He provides ways to help these children whether by paying for their hospital admissions/stocking a medical cabinet/etc.

Things to be sent:
-underwear (honestly, the more you can provide the better. Not just for my kids--it is a huge need in every children’s home and I know that I could find a grateful recipient for even a million pairs. As far as HOREC goes, we have already received some from the Young Adult ministry at Mt. Bethel which was a huge help. They covered most of the little kids-but we could still use some for 5-6 year old boys*about 6 boys total, 9-10 year old boys*2 boys total, and 10-15 year old girls*about 15 girls total.
-Socks (all sizes)
-handwash/antibacterial gel *probably easiest for me to buy here, though it is cheaper in America…
-medical supplies (bandaids, alcohol pads, gloves, Neosporin, etc etc etc…. anything you’d find in a first aid kit, really—very limited supplies here and they are expensive. I think those weekly medicine containers would be helpful too for those on HIV meds.)

OTHER HOMES-->
-security guards for Strong Tower home for rescued street boys and girls (**urgent need that I will explain more to people who are interested in helping)
-toothbrushes/toothpaste
-underwear
-socks
-medical supplies
-school bags (small bookbags/backpacks—used are fine!)**somewhat urgent as well… there is a children’s home that could really really use new bags before going back to school in May. I took pictures that I will post soon… their school bags are a mess. I can get each one a new bag for around 5 dollars….16 children. $80
-bed sheets (again, used are fine--twin sheets are best)
-personal Bibles (English OK)

those are priorities…. There are also some things that the kids would love, but definitely do not HAVE to have. These are probably all the things you actually are excited about sending/providing.

-clothes(especially for preschoolers because they wet themselves like 5 times a day. Also baby clothes are helpful.)
-toys/games (the only problem is that they need to either be for groups or there needs to be enough for each child in a home)
-art activities:beads, paint, paper, markers, crayons, stickers, etc.
-pictures/letters… they LOVE getting pictures, even just of your family or something random.
-kids dvds (as I write this, my little ones are all watching Shrek-thanks Brennan and Grant Kelly!)

now these are ideas of things you could provide for the kids to experience if you choose:

-a trip to the pool (it’s about a dollar per child…. So, for HOREC I am hoping to get about $30 dollars to take the kids before their holiday is over on May 2nd)
-a trip to see the animals that live in their country (most children have never even seen the animals our kids see at the zoo, even though the animals actually LIVE in the wild here)
-any other fun thing you can think of… they love to get out every once and a while. Now is a good time because they are out of school for two more weeks. Their next opportunity to go away for a day is probably not until August.
Even with just $20 dollars or so, I think I could figure out how to throw an ice cream Sunday party for an entire children’s home. Be creative. ☺ I also think $10 or so could provide an extremely rare event—sodas for all.

These are all just ideas because people have been asking and I WANT to provide a way for you to help… I am responsible to these children and GOD to share their needs and let Him do the rest of the work—leading you to respond however He chooses. The books you donated have been the HUGEST blessing... multiple children's homes now have stories to read before bed and His love is sung over them in a new way. Also, those of you that gave clothes--every single item has a new and grateful owner. Thank you :)

Gaylyn Kelly has been extremely generous in offering to help arrange all of this on the American side of things. An account has been set up through Mt. Bethel United Methodist church in Marietta, GA so that any monetary donation can be given with my name on the ‘for’ line. Some of the money will be sent through BrightPoint for Children (an incredible child sponsorship program that you definitely need to check out if you have not) - ie. security needs (HOREC and Strong Tower) and medical fund for children’s homes that are already being sponsored by them. If you contact Gaylyn, she will be able to give you more information and advise you on how to give. If you have other ideas, PLEASE share them with me or run them by Gaylyn if you’d rather. We want you to be able to respond to Him however He leads you… these are His children and I trust Him to direct you how to provide for them, whether by your prayers (that I allow the Holy Spirit to lead), your money (which I will watch in awe to see how He moves you to give), and your possessions (cannot wait to hear about a sweet child who decide to give up one of her dolls so a child in Kenya can have one). Before I go on for 5 more pages, let me give you my contact information and Gaylyn’s as well. Mine is annie.coppedge@gmail.com and Gaylyn’s is gaylyn.kelly@mtbethel.org. This will be a constant work in progress and we might not always have answers, but things will slowly but surely be figured out. Thanks so much for even reading this and I pray He overwhelms you with generosity so that you can in turn, be generous with Love.

“But who am I, and who are my people, that we should be able to give as generously as this? Everything comes from You and we have given You only what comes from Your hand.” ~1 Chronicles 29:14

and all of 2 Corinthians 8 and 9. . . . . . incredible passages about generosity/love/service.

Recipients

2010-04-13T02:35:00.004-04:00

I am going to start telling you about each of the kids He is letting me love… I want you to pray for them with me. I want you to know them. I want you to praise Him for what He is doing in their sweet lives.

He has changed my heart so much in just this short time and I wanted to share before I begin that I don’t think He wants us to be sorry for these kids. I don’t think He wants us to see them first as victims, I think He wants us to see them as blessed RECIPIENTS of so much love and grace from the King who calls them His own.

It seems simple, and maybe it is, but my heart is most often inclined to ‘pity’ the ones whose stories break my heart. Sometimes I watch 10 year old Mary care for little 7 month old Medrine so so lovingly and get tears in my eyes as I remember that she will never be a mom because of this brutal disease. I have so many questions for God when 6 year old Joseph shares that he would love to be a doctor when he grows up—and what an incredible doctor he would be, if this disease would stop tearing down his body. I am often furious when I hear a youth service at church telling children how dirty they are if they have sex before they are married, knowing that I can pick out at least 10 girls (and boys) in the crowd whose hearts are hurting as they recall the evil events that they presume place them in this category. BUT… He has redirected me lately and asked me to open my eyes that are tightly shut as I try to praise Him even when my mind is asking ‘why why why?’ He’s asked me to open my eyes and SEE HIM BECAUSE HE IS THERE. He was there during the hurt. He is there during the healing. This hurts Him more than it hurts me-more than it hurts them-but no evil can thwart His ultimate goodness. He was good then and He’s good now and if I open my eyes, I can see it. I can touch it. I love that the only times I remember that two of my girls were raped just months ago is when I am praising Him after I got to watch them sing their hearts out during worship or after we laughed until our stomach hurts and our eyes were full of tears…

If I am not looking for His face in the brokenness, I will be crippled by the deep pain of others. I have had this conversation with some of you because it has been a constant question as I have been face to face with evil and suffering so much over the past couple of years. I ask myself when I will stop seeing my sweet Nepalese girls as victims of sex trafficking—forced to work in the brothels of India as young as 8 years old. When will I first see them as beautiful, chosen, REDEEMED daughters of the King who have been washed whiter than snow by His blood… when will I forget what they’ve been through and more, when will they forget? Maybe forget is the wrong word. I don’t wish for it to escape our minds fully, but I want “those that sow in tears to reap in joy”(psalm 126). They do. He is faithful to that. The problem is me… the one who simply sees the pain and wishes I could take it but am constantly unable. Carol said (pretty randomly) the other day that she is not afraid of dying—she WANTS to be with Jesus. Holy moly. He picked me up and looked me in the eyes and said ‘see Annie! I AM good. Do you believe me? Look for it. Look for it and and expect it and you will see the depth of my love never changes.’

I am rambling, sorry. My point is just that as I tell you the heartbreaking stories of these kids and show you their faces, I am praying that we are able to rejoice in His promises for them. That we can still shout from the rooftops ‘HE IS GOOD!’ even when our eyes are open to their heartache. The thing is, because of His limitless and fully sufficient grace THEY are able to do this so I need to be also. I need to trust God enough that they might see their worth in HIM and not solely in their circumstances, unfortunate past, sad stories, or current situation. I’ll be back to write more later today.

Leaving HOREC

2010-04-09T12:39:00.005-04:00

Just wanted to fill you in on the events of the past couple of days—a lot has happened/changed. I spent Easter weekend, Friday through Tuesday, running all around Kenya doing various things—taking a friend to the hospital, getting over food poisoning, checking on some children in a dangerous situation, visiting the child I sponsor through Brightpoint, and spending time with my Kenyan family (Josphine, Faith, and Lenny). I got back to HOREC right at dusk on Tuesday night. I missed the kids so much over the weekend and it was so wonderful to see them again! We had a great night of fun and catching up. The kids are out of school for holiday, so they are able to stay up later and the older kids have more time for playing, as they have less schoolwork to do.

I am not sure if you remember/I ever told you about what happened at HOREC in November of 2009, so I’ll copy a blog post that was written about the incident immediately following:

“With terrible grief and heartache I must share terrible news concerning HOREC. On Thursday morning around 1 a.m. approximately 15 thugs broke into the orphanage. They were on a rampage coming from two neighbors’ homes that they had ransacked, beat and cut the people. All the people survived with multiple wounds. HOREC staff and children knew nothing of the havoc going on down the road until they too became victims. The men must have been watching the property because they waited until the night guard went into his house (just a short distance away from the dorm) to escape the rain. They quietly approached the dorm, cut the electricity supply, broke the lock to the front gate and made their way to the corridor of the bathrooms. Between the bathrooms and the girls' room the wall does not go all the way to the roof. Two of the thugs found the space and climbed over the wall landing in the girl’s bedroom. They then got the door open so that the rest could join. With flashlights shining directly in the kid’s eyes that were awake they told the children if they screamed they would be killed. They were carrying axes and machetes. Some of the men cut through the boxes of supplies, some were yelling at the staff to hand over money and cell phones, and others dragged two of the girls to the storage room and raped them. One of the girls is 14 years of age and the other is 10. Both have come from sexually abusive backgrounds. The housemother was being beaten mercilessly as some of the children were climbing under beds to hide. Miraculously some of the kids slept through the whole ordeal. Then, as fast as they had come they left. Their whirlwind was like a hurricane that ripped through bodies, hearts and minds leaving a shattered mess. It wasn’t until they left that the housemother found a cell phone they had hidden and frantically called Christine. Everyone was praying it was a nightmare from which they would awake. Christine, her husband and the police arrived to find the chaos of screaming children. Both the girls were taken to Nairobi Women’s Hospital and treated then sent back home. One feels helpless at the situation. Questions go through our minds and frustration feels like a heavy weight.”

This is what I read in December that changed the course of all of my plans for moving to Kenya… when I heard about this incident and these precious children who are not only orphaned, abandoned, and sick-but now traumatized in this way, the Lord made it so clear that I was supposed to move in with them and love them with every fiber of my being. Counsel? Yes, maybe eventually. Be a Child Life Specialist to? Yes, maybe along the way. LOVE? Absolutely yes--with everything.

Anyway, around 2am on Tuesday night, we received a call from a neighbor saying there was a gang of thugs moving through the community. They were beating people, breaking into homes, and stealing anything they could find. The adults were all woken up, myself included, but we did not wake the children. I was told as I laid my mosquito net covered bed, wide-eyed and confused as to why I was awake but there were no sick children, about the gang and to be prepared that they were outside and trying to get in, that they must have seen me arrive at night and realized I was sleeping at the home. White people in Kenya are assumed to have money so they are common targets for theft. God’s presence was thick in those moments and the peace I felt was indescribable-like nothing I’ve ever experienced or would expect to experience in such turmoil. My heart was at rest knowing that whatever the next several minutes or hours held, He was walking through it with us. Nothing mattered beyond that. I wrote this to a friend several hours after the attempted break in “I was preparing to personally hand them my laptop, phone, camera, and money given that they did not enter the dorm. I will even give them myself if that is what they're looking for. I had such a peace last night .............. Not an 'everything will blow over, no big deal' peace... But an 'I KNOW You are here and nothing will convince me otherwise. I will do anything in the world to protect these kids whether it means giving all of my earthly possessions, giving my body to be raped or beaten, or giving my life. I trust You to be the ultimate protector but if there is any role You want me to play in assistance, I am willing.’”

The thugs never got in… they were scared away by watchmen and probably somewhat intimidated by the electric fence that was installed since the last break-in. Please praise Him with me that the kids did not have to go through that again… that most of them never even heard the screams that echoed through the community all night as innocent people were attacked by pure evil. He is so gracious and I cannot stop thanking Him for sparing their hearts from seeing that evil once again. My brother sent a message saying that part of becoming like Jesus is learning to hate evil as much as He does… He encouraged me to pray that these men, who seem to fear nothing, would fear the LORD and would dare not enter into His home for HIS precious children and bring harm there. Much needed wisdom…

Unfortunately, for the safety of the children, it is necessary that I move out of HOREC. My presence -my skin color- was attracting men with evil motives and though it is extremely heartbreaking to succumb to their threats, the children will be safer in my absence. I am truly not worried for my own safety and trust that if He ever sees fit for me to return, I will hear Him clearly. For right now, I would be staying for purely selfish motives and as much as I want to, I cannot choose to serve myself over protecting the children. My heart breaks that I am not there to worship with them each night, to tuck the children into their mosquito nets, read them stories, pray with them, say goodnight and I love you a million times so that each one knows it is true for THEM personally, listen to them speak broken English in their dreams, check Carol for fever every couple of hours, hold the little ones as they fall back asleep after being woken by bad dreams, feel them cover my bed as I begin to realize it is time to wake up, give them their morning baths, try to sort out their school uniforms as they dance around the room in their birthday suits, and rub their backs as they take their morning and night medicines. Even just writing that was impossible without tears…. BUT, I trust Him. I trust Him to fill the deep holes left in my heart and if He was allowing me to bless any of their hearts like they bless mine, I trust Him to fill those holes too. I trust that He will take better care of Carol than I was. I trust that He knows what He is doing and this hurts me much more than it hurts them. I am waiting to see where He leads—not sure whether commuting will be an option or what. I knew I was supposed to live among them… that was my clear call from Him. I did it… I loved it… is it really already over? Hard to accept if it is, but time will tell.

This is extremely painful, my heart is broken… broken that these evil men have so much power. I must remember, though, that as much power as it seems they possess, it pales in comparison to HIS almighty power. That their small, corrupt power is NOT overtaking His… it never will. His purposes will come to be regardless of how hard they try to thwart them and for that, I am grateful. Please pray for continued safety of the children at HOREC… thank you.

"O righteous God, who searches minds and hearts, bring to an end the violence of the wicked and make the righteous secure. My shield is God Most High, who saves the upright in heart." ~Psalm 7:9

Losing myself

2010-03-31T07:08:00.000-04:00

There are some days I really miss living for myself… ONLY myself. Don’t get my wrong—I live for myself every day, in some way or another, but He has shown me several ways to lessen the ‘me’ a bit.

When I am up all night with Carol as her body fights an opportunistic infection with the few white blood cells it has remaining…or holding little Thomas as he throws up and then collapses in fatigue…or tucking little Mary into her bed and mosquito net like her mom would surely do if she was still alive—I am not thinking of myself. I am not thinking ‘you are lucky I am staying up with you, Carol, because I am going to be pretty tired tomorrow because of this.’ And as I dry the post-vomiting tears of Thomas, the thought “Great. Now I will probably get the stomach bug. Thanks a lot.” never crosses my mind. When I am tucking in 6 year old Mary, my mind is focused on showing her love in this small way, not ‘I wish you could just do this yourself… I still need to brush my teeth and wash my face and the lights go off in 2 minutes.’

I will be honest, I did not come to Kenya solely for the people here. I did not come here only because my greatest desire in the world is for these children to know and experience the Love of Jesus Christ. That is definitely a large part of it, but in many ways, I fled to Kenya to get away from myself. I was sick of living every day for the good of myself and no one else. I am tired of going to bed each night thinking of how the day went for ME and how tomorrow will go for ME and what so and so thinks of ME and how I can cover up things about myself so people will like ME and so on and so on. I am even weary of praying and praying and praying about ME—begging Him to show Himself to ME, asking Him to refine ME, petitioning Him to continue bestowing blessings upon ME, and anything else I can pray for that all in all, promotes ME. I am tired of taking care of myself alone… of defending my own rights… of fighting for my own entitlements… only looking after myself… of pursuing the fruit of the Spirit for my own benefit… of asking to be filled so that I can hold onto His fullness instead of pouring it out.

I could easily blame this on where I am in life… this time period. I am no longer a child, so the responsibility of my wellbeing has transitioned to me from my parents. At the same time, I do not yet have a family—a husband, children, a household to look after, so that just leaves ME to take care of, right? I have felt so landlocked in this stage of life… longing for people to love and take care of and pour myself into, but going along with society’s role for people in my age bracket by attaining and perfecting self-reliance. I have tried this… I have given this my best effort while simultaneously praying a simple daily prayer for ‘Less of me and more of HIM’. He has kindly kept telling me again and again that I cannot live both for myself and for others. It won’t work. I have to pick one. [Please don’t get me wrong and think I am implying that if you are not living in an orphanage in Africa then you are doomed to Hell or something ridiculous like that… I am speaking extremely personally and have no idea what it is He is telling you—only know that He told me that if I am to live for others, I have to put myself in positions where my comfort is a low priority, because I will not give all of myself unless I intentionally seek these faces and places and stories and situations that demand all I have to give.] In Luke 9:57-62, there are people walking with Jesus who say “I will follow you wherever you go.” He tells them to come on and follow Him, welcomes them to live the life of discipleship and they seem willing….but if you read further you’ll see that they are holding onto things that they want to do first before following Him. One man wants to bury His father (pretty valid request if you ask me) and another wants to say goodbye to his family (again, not a bad thing)… that does not fly with Jesus. Their ‘but firsts’ show their disobedience to His calling, His invitation to follow Him. He says “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.” The ‘but firsts’ I have been throwing at Jesus are plentiful… I knew He wanted me in Kenya, but I wanted to get my dream job and have a pay check and decorate a cute apartment and have dinner parties and live with fun roommates and get a new car for graduation and buy cute clothes and do other ‘young adult’ things [not quite as noble as burying my father or telling my family goodbye, but still, not bad things].

Anyway, I refuse to believe any longer that because I am 24, single, and childless—my only responsibility is myself. That is a bold lie that Satan had me convinced was absolute truth. I even believed that crap that I have heard from nearly everyone I know about “this is the time to take care of yourself… do fun things… travel… LIVE… because in just a couple of years you are going to be tied down to a family, a husband, kids running around draining all of your time and energy. GO and do the things you’ve dreamed of now!” To me, that translates to “live for yourself while you can.. it’s about to change because of the new roles you will take on as you grow up.” Do we realize that our days are numbered and every day we awake is designed so that we might GIVE OUR LIVES TO BRING HIM GLORY? I admit that my mindset is far from this when I am in America… I needed to come here, to follow Jesus here, because this is where He shows Himself to me clearest and this is where I most joyfully love myself a little bit less because I love others a little bit more. Because I love myself in a disgusting, self-serving way, I absolutely NEED to cling to these environments where ‘dying to self’ does not seem so farfetched. I commend all of you who are surrendering yourself each day in different settings… especially those without families to care for. It is one of my greatest battles and I need to be in settings where I don’t have a choice about whether I give my life for theirs or not. Not that I am forced to do it but I am face to face with the need and see how giving my life for theirs is absolutely worth it. It is a true JOY to care little about myself because my concern has turned to another. It is the greatest joy I have known so I will continue to follow it wherever He leads. It is not something that I see happening (the dying to self), but when I question the peaceful heart and inexplicable joy I have in these moments, I see it… the scriptures ring true in a way I can touch!

I want this always. I don’t have this always… even here in Kenya. He is teaching me that I must lay myself down each morning—daily. I cannot just do it on the days when someone is sick or there are tears that need drying or hearts that need reassurance that He is faithful. That is my tendency… Carol is feeling so much better—PRAISE HIM! The chicken pox seem to have done their damage and are retreating and giving Mary back her joy. This is truly wonderful—but it is on these days that I am appalled at how easily I return to living for myself alone. On these days I am annoyed with my lack of toilet seat and sick of washing myself in a bucket and tired of sheets that feel like sandpaper and annoyed that I am missing a great Easter meal and family time and burnt-out on cabbage, beans, and corn and frustrated that I cannot sit down and read my Bible, even, without a swarm of kids trying to distract me and mad at myself for thinking they’re maliciously trying to distract me instead of realizing they are just seeking love and attention in that moment. What I am saying is that when I am knee-deep in serving them, living for them is joy. BUT when I have forgotten my only task because it is not as glaringly clear, I can only think of myself.

Not sure if I am making sense… my point is that when I am not ‘in the trenches’ on behalf of these kids, my self love comes in full of force and fury. This love of Annie reminds me what my friends are doing right now and makes me jealous for what I was doing several months ago. It reminds me that I do not have to be sleeping on these crappy sheets and could easily be back at home with my down comforter, air conditioning, and shower to wake up to. It reminds me that I deserve alone time and even parents get more than I am getting, it’s not fair. It reminds me that there are so many other people who would be more qualified for this and if they would just step up and do it, I would not be needed. It reminds me that if I want to be like everyone else I will need to ‘find a husband and get married’ within the next several years and so what am I doing in Kenya? Surely postponing any natural life events. And the grossest look into my selfish heart: It reminds me that I am doing them a favor… it makes me hope that they see the sacrifice I am making… hope that they understand that I have come from far away and left a lot behind to be with them… surely if they saw this, they would give me the space I need and maybe a pat on the back every couple of days would be nice, too. Ugg. Gross, I know.

So, just telling you something I am struggling with… sharing my sin with you. I long for the moments when I am 100% living for these kids, when they NEED me. But when the level of need is assumedly lessened, I find myself again and begin to long for the things I believe I am entitled to. Selfless love is what I have been longing for and He is showing me where I can find it… losing myself in loving Him and thus, loving His children. Re-surrendering each day, whatever it holds (however mundane), is the battle…

update

2010-03-23T04:35:00.002-04:00

I have been bad about updating since my internet has been poor and I have also been extremely busy. Here is a short (okay, it’s really long… but very short considering how much I could have written) summary of what’s been going on. I will write again tonight or tomorrow with more about Carol and what God is doing—you will be so encouraged to see His deep care for orphans.

Two weeks ago to the day, I moved into a children’s home. This humble compound is a home to 27 children who have been affected or infected with HIV/AIDS. More than a home, it is a place of Hope. I cannot describe the love I have felt from these kids as they allow me to experience His joy through them. Within the first 24 hours, we had laughed, cried, prayed, sang, snuggled, and praised Him for His faithfulness. Sometime, I will take a moment to describe each of these incredible gifts of life… I will tell you about how sweet little Joseph’s heart is and how well he expresses his love to me, even though he can only speak several words in English. I will tell you about 10 year old Mary and how much desire she possesses in her heart to love every single person in her path and how through doing this, He receives the utmost glory. I will tell you about Alice and how eager she is to be used for His kingdom; how she is saying ‘yes’ to Him with every breath she takes and how incredible it is to watch Him raise up such a leader in this precious 8th grade girl. I will tell you about little Dan and how even though during praise and worship time he is partially seeking attention from his 26 older brothers and sisters, God hears his loud shouts of worship and cherishes the thanksgiving He receives from such a young child. I will tell you about how little Tomato (his name is Thomas but ‘tomato’ fits him better) just wants to be held sometimes and how well he responds to any love that anyone wants to give him, while gladly returning the love exceedingly more. I promise to take the time to tell you about each child and absolutely covet your prayers for the children that He draws your heart to. I want you to laugh hysterically with me as my 7 preschoolers dance around the room naked each morning, before we put their school uniforms on. I want you to be in the room as we sing praises to our Sustainer each and every night; I want you to soak in the words of Jesus as a little child recites them from memory. I want you to be on your knees with me as I pray by the side of a sick child’s bed; I want there to be more hands to rub backs as some of the kids have trouble quieting their minds and falling asleep. I just want you to experience this stuff because I am so confident it would bless you like it blesses me. These kids are absolutely incredible in every single way… they have blessed me infinitely in my short amount of time with them.

Let me tell you a little bit about Carol. First of all, I love her. I really, really love her. She is feisty. Lovingly bossy to her little sister, Mary. She is capable of the meanest faces I have ever seen when forced to guzzle porridge or swallow down her 3060406 meds in 5 seconds so they can go onto the next child. She is also capable of the sweetest smile I know. She meticulously picks out the vegetables in her food and stacks them all on the side of the plate (just like me). When I sneak her Tangy Tomato chips, she stuffs them anywhere she can find so that no one sees her. She loves to brag to certain friends about the things she has seen/done that day (ie. we got to ride an elevator after the hospital in Nairobi and she pretty much had every single child on their knees begging to be able to do the same). She laughs when I give her a bath because I clearly have no idea how to bathe her like she is used to being bathed; I can barely figure out how to wash myself using a bucket of water, let alone a child. She always feels the need to tell me when she is going to the toilet…haha; I think I asked her once “Naenda wapi” (where are you going) and from now on she even wakes me up at night to tell me when she is going to the toilet—it’s precious. She looks at me with a sheepish smile as she scratches her chicken pox because she knows I hate it when she does that, but will not respond harshly like the others will. When she cannot fall asleep and everyone but us is snoring, she tilts her head back towards my bed and we just smile and communicate without words. When I feel her head 3959295842 times per night to see if she has fever and she happens to be awake, she looks at me with eyes that say she is glad I am checking on her and that she will be okay; somehow her looks ease my mind and I am able to fall asleep again for a little while. When I say “nakupenda sana sana sana!” (I love you very very very much) before she goes to bed she says “asante” (thanks) with a smile. When she can tell I am getting slightly annoyed by someone pulling my hair too hard, breaking my neck by hanging on it, or screaming for no reason, she gets angry at them for me in Swahili. I was talking with the girls about their favorite things last night and when asked what she wanted to be when she grows up …… she yelled POLICE. Haha. I love it. She loves the book “Goodnight moon” and though I practically never hear her speak English, sometimes I catch her reading it outloud. Basically, I am in love. Head over heels for this girl.

This past weekend, a friend and I took her to the city to have some fun since she has had such a rough time even just in the 2 weeks I’ve known her (chicken pox, malaria, pneumonia, TB, etc…. AIDS). We were able to take her to pick out her very first doll, buy a new dress, push her through a grocery store in one of those kids carts/cars, let her eat whatever food she wanted, visit an elephant orphanage, go on a safari walk, and just spend time watching movies/hanging out away from the orphanage. She has truly blossomed in this new environment and I have so enjoyed seeing her smile bigger than I thought was possible. I will tell you more about her tomorrow, but just wanted to thank those of you who have been praying for her and ask you to continue. I want to tell you about her heart, her struggles, her past, and the future He has for her and how you can be a part of loving her and living out James 1:27.

perfect timing

2010-03-09T04:03:00.004-05:00

Ahhh... the new Passion CD came out at the perfect time. The whole CD is great, but "Healing is in Your Hands" by Christy Nockels is one of the most beautiful songs I have ever heard in my life. I think it will be playing on ipod speakers each night as we fall asleep because it beautifully speaks exactly what I want my to spend my life communicating to all who do not know. Here are the lyrics... you should definitely download the whole CD though!!

"Healing is in Your Hands"

No mountain, no valley, no gain or loss we know
Could keep us from Your love

No sickness, no secret, no chain is strong enough
To keep us from Your love
To keep us from Your love

How high....
How wide....
No matter where I am, healing is in Your hands
How deep....
How strong....
Now by Your grace I stand, healing is in Your hands

Our present, our future, our past is in Your hands
We’re covered by Your blood
we're covered by Your blood

How high....
How wide....
No matter where I am, healing is in Your hands
How deep....
How strong....
Now by Your grace I stand, healing is in Your hands

In all things, we know that we are more than conquerors
You keep us by Your love
You keep us by Your love

incredible. I have been singing it at the top of my lungs on repeat for the last hour.... Lord, may I remember that healing is in YOUR hands, not my own. May these kids remember that absolutely nothing in the entire universe can keep them from Your magnificent Love. We are all more than conquerors because You keep us in Your love, promising never to leave us or forsake us. Thanks for that.

And so it begins...

2010-03-03T02:55:00.001-05:00

I finally got to meet the round faces and little hands and sweet hearts and bright smiles of the kids who have captivated so many of my thoughts, prayers, and longings. It was nothing like I imagined; beautifully different than anything I have ever experienced.

When I held them and laughed with them(to the point of spewing milky rice all over the table for some 3 year old participants) and soaked in the joy from their smiles, it was so undeniable that God has ordained these relationships that began long before I drove into the orphanage that day. They have occupied my heart and my conversations with Him for as long as I can remember. These are the children I have longed to love deeply, so much so that I put their wellbeing high above my own, and JOYFULLY at that(the closest thing I know to being a parent, I believe). I remember being 7 or 8, probably, and praying while riding on the highway that I might find a baby who has been abandoned and would be able to take her home. It sounds odd, but it has made more and more sense to me as He gradually (and graciously) refines me and molds my heart to be more like His. I am beginning to see that He formed my heart to love what/who He loves before I had even read Matthew 25 or James 1:27 or Isaiah 58…

The babies in (hypothetical) trash bags are plentiful here. There are around 2 million orphans in Kenya; some abandoned by choice, many by circumstance, and countless by death/illness. I get to live with and love on 27 of them beginning today. Even just typing that seems surreal… He asks us, He LETS us see Himself in their faces and be His hands that wipe the tears and love them with everything we have, while always promising to love us all more than we could ever wrap our brains around.

My heart is more broken than ever for these children now that I have touched them and seen Him in their smiling eyes. It is so hard to hear their stories and struggles and I want nothing more than to bind up their wounds and sing of the promise of restoration and healing through Him. He is sweetly reminding me that the battle is not my own… it is not their own. HE came to be all that they need and He lets me be an expression of this overflowing love. The battle (and calling it anything else is belittling it’s magnitude) is HIS… the God of Justice is fighting on behalf of these children and I am humbled to be used in whatever way He chooses. “Defending the rights of the fatherless”, as David writes in the Psalms, is where He has me right now; I am on the front line, wholeheartedly believing and trusting that He will use me to fight for these, His children, who are left to die in the hospitals because of their HIV status… I will need prayers for such an outpouring of His grace in me when I begin to interact with the medical staff because my natural inclinations are far from loving.

Tonight. Tonight I will be surrounded by 27 little ones as we read about God’s love for us all in the books that you all have generously supplied. I will be tucking them into their beds and kissing their foreheads. I will be praying for them with tears in my eyes as I verbally profess His love over them and ask for His continued grace and mercy and peace for their precious hearts. I will be waking the ones who need their antiretrovirals and rubbing their backs as they groggily swallow down the harsh medications that, though ultimately helpful, often make them feel worse than any child should ever feel. I will probably fall asleep with tears, asking God why I cannot take their pain for them. And I believe He will give me rest each night and remind me in the sweetest way that the battle is not my own and we have a Father who asks us to put our pain and heavy hearts upon Him. I believe Him to wake me with His fresh mercy and grace as I learn how to love Him better by loving these children. I believe that what seems impossible is possible when I allow myself to be bathed in the great love He has for ME and let that love and only that love pour out onto all in my path.

There is no doubt in my mind I am in the center of His will as I take this step and move into my new home this afternoon. I am thankful that He is true to His promises and lifts up those who are bowed down.

my plans

2010-02-18T21:53:00.003-05:00

Just wanted to update you on some decisions I have made in regards to my move to Kenya in the coming days. I realized recently that throughout this entire process of preparing/waiting to see what God has in store for me there, I have been limiting (or at least trying to limit) His power and viewing Him as a smaller version of Himself. I think the fact alone that He is allowing me to go across the world to love sweet orphans/children seemed so incredible that I did not expect there was anything else He could possibly add to that.

Before this summer, my prayers were big. I graduated knowing one thing: I love kids--especially the ones who need a little extra loving. :) My heart is definitely drawn to children who have lost their parents, children who are sick, children who have been sexually exploited --all in all, children who have been told by the world in some way, shape, or form that they are unworthy of love (I am fully aware it is HE who has implanted this desire to love these specific groups in my heart). The hardest/greatest thing for me has been to discern why He has given me these burdens and what I am supposed to do about them [right now]. It has never been a matter of forcing myself to act on these things--He has made them inescapable to me in the most loving ways possible. Kenya is wonderful and I love everything about it, but it is the people I am drawn to... I am drawn to the same people in Nepal and in India and Atlanta and Athens and in other places I have never been to.

Anyway, as I was saying--I was dreaming big dreams and praying big prayers this time last year because I could not figure out which of these burdens would 'win my heart' as I supposed I had to narrow it down to just one. Would I work with sick kids in America? Would I work with sex trafficking victims in Asia? Would I work with orphans in Africa? The word 'work' ultimately needed to be cast out of my vocabulary. It was so hard for me to decide which burden would dictate my life (or at least the circumstantial time bracket I was willing to give to it) and direct my steps. I could not do it. Even after confirming that I needed to move to Kenya, turning down my dream American job, planning my dream Kenya life with orphans-- I could not shake the aching in my heart for the sick and for the sexually abused. I was asking God repeatedly if I really had to put those children who have my heart on the back burner for now so that I can fully give my heart (just) to the kids who have been abandoned to orphanages. Honestly, up until several days before I booked my plane ticket to Kenya--I was looking up tickets to Calcutta to live and love the kids in the red light district there.

Several months ago, I heard about an orphanage for HIV+ children that was broken into by thugs during the night. Some of the children were raped, some threatened, and most all viewed the traumatic events, if they were not directly involved. This broke my heart. I do not think a broken heart over this type of injustice is something unique... I do not know anyone whose heart is so hard to be immune to the effects of this unfortunate reality. My heart was broken, like yours even as you hear about it, but it took several sleepless nights before I realized that these children are exactly those whom I long to pour out every single ounce of love He gives me. I cannot get them out of my head or out of my heart because He has given me a burden for them and I am meant to act on that burden, not silence it.

The director of HOREC, in Joska, has expressed the strong desire for psychological support for the children who are trying to cope with what happened that night and how they are different now because of it. I want to help. I want to love them and stay up with them when they have nightmares and rub their backs as they fall asleep and pray over them like you (who have them) pray over your children and hold their hand when they're scared and dry their tears and watch Jesus soften their hearts and most of all, tell them about our Father and how their names are written on His hand and He loves them and will never forsake them, regardless of what the world has taught them in their short time on this earth.

I have no idea how long I will stay before moving on, but fully trust the Spirit to guide me and make clear when to be still and when to move. Honestly--I am open to spending two days there and I am open to spending two years there as well. We'll see what He has in mind. I am hearing so clearly that right now He wants me to spend some time learning to love the children that are so dear to His heart by living among them and walking with them through some hard times. I truly feel that I am being obedient to what He wants for me now and will be constantly listening for His future direction. I am so beyond humbled that they would allow me to come and stay with them and learn to love the children that are so dear to His heart. I am even more humbled that God would use ME to be a part of making His love complete. Let the adventure begin (though I guess it really began a long time ago...)!!!

joy...

2010-02-11T10:54:00.002-05:00

40 days...

2010-01-17T17:35:00.005-05:00

People keep asking me if I am afraid. . . .

This question usually follows a brief description of my plans for Kenya and my ignorance of martial artistry. I usually say 'no' because my response is intended to answer their question of the type of fear that relates to safety, health, or general functionality. My answer is valid--I am not afraid of disease, violence, rape, or death in Kenya. Jesus tells us not to be afraid of the things that can kill the body--but to fear the One who could destroy both body and soul (Matthew 10). That is a tall order. To not fear any one or any thing on this earth, but to fear God alone. We're told in 1 John that there is no fear in love--that Perfect Love casts out fear. There seems to be no plausible explanation for an absence of fear of these potential physical endangerments. It is supernatural. His perfect, all encompassing love absolutely is responsible for casting out my fear of the things that could harm my body. Love is not cautious, it's extravagant...

All that to say, I would be lying if I said I have no fears about moving to Kenya. The things I fear are hard to even speak of because they show my disbelief that He is who He says He is. Naming our fears begins to dismantle them and they are overridden with the freedom-invoking truth of our Savior. As I have been presenting them to Him, I have found that every single one of them is irrational. All of the things I fear imply that I am MORE than I am and He is LESS than He is. Not sure if that makes sense... I have just noticed that when I focus on His intrinsic nature and the attributes that define His brilliant character, my fears prove to be contradictory and unfounded. This is beautiful... I think this is the Perfect Love that when you are looking it in the face and reveling in it's goodness, the fears you are holding onto are forced out of your hands.

Anyway, I meant this to be a short post. Just wanted to clarify that I am not devoid of fear but must rejoice that He has cast away the fears of my body being harmed. His perfect love that casts out fear is REAL and as I grow closer and closer to Him, the power of this fear-casting Love becomes undeniable. I trust Him with my body (today), and I am working on trusting Him with my heart... pretty sure I will be bringing my fears to His feet for the rest of my life, but sooner and sooner and with a less tight grip each time is my prayer.

Brokenness

2009-12-09T23:17:00.006-05:00

Lots is going on in my head and my heart right now, but one thing I have been thinking about today and wanted to share... it is simple and might not seem worthy of a post, but I cannot help but praise Him for the way He humbly speaks to me through others.

The people God has been using (throughout my entire life) to selflessly and sacrificially pour into me with God-breathed encouragement, listening ears, committed prayer, much-needed accountability, and partnership in the Gospel have been the ones who admittedly display their brokenness. Sometimes their brokenness is 'on display' because of outward circumstances and sometimes it is something that they invite others behind the curtain to see. --I am broken-- I am reminded of this every single day and need for it to be that way or else I do not need a Savior. It's as simple as that. Because I am broken and so desperately content in this setting-in pieces before Him so that He died for someone who NEEDS Him-I am eager to listen, learn, and do life with others who truly need a Savior; people who see their need.

If I happen to live at a homeless shelter during a season of my life and you come there with your figured out life and polished appearance and tell me about Jesus who came for the sick but you do not see that YOU are sick, I want nothing to do with you or your Jesus. If I can sit under a bridge with someone who is living there and talk all day long about the character of Jesus and how He longs to bring healing and bind up our wounds (obviously referring to the wounds of this guy who spends his days drunk on the streets) but I do not see the places where He is begging me to come out from under a bridge and let Him bind up MY OWN wounds, what on earth am I doing!?

Guys... we are not so different from the people whose brokenness is on display. One of my dearest friends, who is currently in a season where she is dependent on others to provide a place for her to live, said to me when we first met something along the lines of "it is so nice of you to come here and spend time with us... i know you must get weary of hearing about how messed up we are--you are really sweet to take time out of your day to minister to us." I think my face must have shown my shock (until my words confirmed it) of what was exiting her mouth and how strongly I felt the opposite of what she was expressing. Eww- forgive me Lord for ever putting off the impression that I have things figured out!!!! Aaaah. The thought of any one of my friends whose brokenness is more evident to the outside world thinking that I am in a higher place, a more holy place where I can afford to take time out of my day to 'minister' to them, the lowly and shattered, makes me feel sick to my stomach. I understand that it might look like I have things under control/figured out/am doing just fine (and most of the people who might happen upon this probably appear the same way)... I really do see how this could be falsely assumed, but there is not a bolder lie that you could say about me.

I love so much when Jesus is sharing a meal with the "ragamuffins" or disreputable and the Pharisees see Him and wonder what on earth He is doing with 'those people.' He overhears them asking His disciples what is up and chimes in "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but the sinners." (mark 2) Plain and simple and makes me smile really big because the pompous(so often ME) were just called out... He didn't come for those who think they're righteous, He came for those who know they're sinners in need of grace. If we don't see our own sin and brokenness, where is our need? Why does a cocaine addict need Jesus more than me? Why does a child molester need Jesus more than me? Why does a sexually promiscuous woman need Jesus more than me? They don't. I need Him just as bad as they do... do you believe that about yourself? I am constantly having to remind myself because I forget this ALL OF THE TIME. I cannot fix them because only God is capable of that; but what I can do is come alongside of them and join them in their brokenness and let them see mine as we learn to let Him bind up our wounds together. Mmm... I think this is the community He speaks of right before He dies on the cross for us.

Ahhhhhh, His character is so stunning!! Anyway, this whole post was just to express that I am truly thankful for the people who invite me into their brokenness, however much(or little) muck has to be removed for it to be brought to surface, because it helps me fall more and more in love with the God who delights in being our Savior. Delights in binding up my wounds and healing my heart... who came because i NEED Him, not just in case I happen to need Him if I, God-forbid, fall into one of those glaringly dark places of brokenness (please note typed sarcasm).

All that to say, the people that God is using to bless my heart during my time on this earth are the ones who do not let me think of THEM more highly than I ought and do not let me think of MYSELF more highly than I ought. I don't want to listen to you and learn from you and share my sin with you if you pat yourself on the back before you go to bed each night or agree with me when I accidentally give you glory that He deserves for what He is in you. I know this entire thought process could be perceived as self-righteous and maybe it is, but when I read His words tonight "What I tell you in the dark, speak in the daylight; what is whispered in your ear, proclaim from the rooftops!” (matthew 10), I decided to proclaim from the rooftops what I truly believe He has whispered (the loud kind of whisper that is relentless) in my ear.

walrus :)

2009-11-11T19:39:00.004-05:00

Man. Jesus was not joking about this boldness thing... He has asked me to be bold in living out and speaking what He has spoken over me and even though I know of only 2-3 people who read this (including my mom--haha), I feel like this is a place I can be bold without just talking loudly with a megaphone or something.

I have become really sensitive to how often we fall into the trap of stealing glory from God. I have heard/seen it so much lately and I don't think it is a new thing, but just that the Spirit has made me more aware of it in myself and others. When we take credit for what He allows us to be apart of/gifts He has given us, receive compliments without redirecting them to God, boast about our ministries without even mentioning His name, and pat ourselves on the back for any work of our hands--we are STEALING His glory... the very glory we were put on this earth to lavish on Him! Not just receiving the praise of man thankfully, but literally ripping it out of His always-deserving hands. This is our chance to bring Him the honor and praise and glory--to take who nonbelievers may see as a 'good person' and say "thanks, but actually, it's not me, it's this guy named Jesus...the Holy Spirit who has taken up residence inside of me." To take what people see as a really successful ministry and say "yeah!! isn't He the greatest?! blowing us away with His goodness and mercy." To take an accomplished goal or prosperous season and say "Look what Jesus did this year!! Look what He let us be involved in..."

I know a lot of it is private and that is truly between us and the Lord, but the public part.... ahh, please. The part that is exposed to the world... Let's remember that He does big things through us to DISPLAY HIS GLORY on this earth/among the nations, not to direct glory to us! "Not to us, O Lord, but to YOUR NAME be the glory." He lets us be His hands and feet so that people may see His face in us... so that His faithfulness becomes REAL to the unbelieving. He lets us take part in His plans when we are willing and obedient--the reward is righteousness and holiness and being clothed in the fruits of the Spirit, not the praise of man. All praise and glory should ALWAYS go to Him!

It's awkward sometimes and it might seem fruitless, but really... let's use these moments not to make our name famous, or our church's name famous, or our ministry's name famous, but HIS NAME famous!!!!!

Soli Deo Gloria...

cautious love vs. extravant love

2009-11-08T14:31:00.002-05:00

"Watch what God does and then do it...keep company with Him and learn a life of love! Observe how Christ loved us - His love was not cautious, but EXTRAVAGANT. He didn't live in order to get something from us but to give everything of Himself to us. Love like that!"
~Ephesians 5:1-2 (MSG)

His love is NOT cautious... not fearful, not prudent, not timid, not lacking in boldness, not unadventurous, not safe, not guarded.

His love IS extravagant...spending much more than is necessary or wise, exceedingly high, going beyond what is deserved or necessary, exceeding the bounds of reason.

Aaaah... what does that mean?? His love was costly, crazy, expensive, outrageous, nonsensical, extreme, daring, adventurous, bold! As imitators of Him--we are told to love like that!!

I think we are too cautious with how we love each other. . . I think that in our 15, 20, 35, 50, 80 years of life we have either felt personally or seen others experience heartbreak and we want to avoid that at all costs. We are taught to take care of ourselves- to be careful with who we give our hearts to and how much we give them and when to stop giving and when we need to hold onto the love for ourselves and yadda yadda yadda. That's a lot of caution. We are warned not to give too much of ourselves to people--especially without the assurance that they will in turn give themselves to us. Even if the words are not spoken in this exact way, I feel like we're told to keep our hearts in a box and wait until someone really determined comes in with a magic key to open the box and then, only then, they deserve our love. Maybe hand out teeny pieces to people, but never give the whole package--never love with everything we have because then we would run out of love and our hearts would crumble, right?

So why did He lavish His love on us? Why did He give it in excess? Why would He not just give us enough to get by? He loves us extravagantly because He wants us to love others with the love we've received and continue to receive from Him... He wants us to love each other DEEPLY, excessively, extravagantly because that is how He loves and He wants us to learn to love in the same way. In a way that doesn't make sense... doesn't correspond with how much the person presumably deserves... is costly!

We have all sung the song 'Hosanna' and probably really asked God to do what the lyrics say:
"break my heart for what breaks Yours"
I am just now getting an idea of what that means... It is BIG! Don't ask for it unless you truly want to learn to live a life of extravagant love like He so marvelously displays for us.

Broken hearts come from what? LOVE... letting our hearts love-unguarded, reckless, bold hearts aimed at loving, LIVING a life of love, with every fiber of our being. We ask for broken hearts, but do we really want that? Who, in their right mind, ASKS for that? . . . . . maybe someone who believes wholeheartedly that He continues to pour out His extravagant love on us so that we can share it with others and we don't run out.

Love is risky. It is taxing and it is big and it is bold and it is IMPOSSIBLE without daily receiving His great love for us. If we really want to love like He loves, we cannot expect to be protected from the heartbreak, the pain of sharing His heart for the people on this earth. He absolutely will break our hearts for what breaks His hearts if we are surrendered to Him to daily imitate the kind of love He gives.

It is painful--I can attest to that. Over the past couple of years, He has given me His heart for people, children who are experiencing the poverty of feeling unloved. The orphans who are going to bed tonight with no one to tuck them in and whisper love into their ears. The little girls who are being raped over and over and over again because her parents thought that a handful of rupees was worth more than the precious child of God whose name is inscribed on the palm of His hand! The kids who are alone on the streets, sniffing glue not because it's cool to get high but because it stifles the hunger they're experiencing and helps them to forget about how miserable they are. Those same kids who do not have family scouring the streets, putting up signs (like we do when even our dogs go missing), appearing on any news station who will listen, offering hefty rewards longing to be reunited with the child God knit in their womb. Broken hearts for the people of His kingdom are not necessarily enjoyable, but they're raw. They're real... to feel so in tune with God that your heart can literally feel the pain Jesus felt that led Him to love the orphans and widows and sick and hungry and overlooked as extravagantly as He did. To get a taste of why He came to this earth and gave us an example of LIVING a life of love... I truly believe He longs for us to hand our hearts to people, knowing that it's a dangerous move but silencing the caution that tries to stop us.

Alright. So what about "guarding our hearts"? What about all of the people who will use Proverbs 4:23 out of context to tell us that "guard your heart" means "don't get hurt!" What about the counsel of others that advises that we love ourselves first and then if we have anything left over we can give it to others. What does that say about the love offered by the Most High? It's not enough? It's possible to outdo Him in love? To run out? Do we really believe He will punish us for attempting to imitate His extravagant love? If we do.. do we really know His character? Proverbs 4:23 is referring to guarding our hearts from wickedness, not suffering.

C.S. Lewis writes: "Of all arguments against love, none makes so strong an appeal to my nature as 'Careful! This might lead you to suffering.'If I am sure of anything, I am sure that His teaching was never meant to confirm my congenital preference for safe investments and limited liabilities...
there is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness."

Guarding our hearts does not equate to avoiding heartbreak at all costs... He lets us be adventurous in love!! He gives us more than enough so we can pour it out in excess... so we can love people when it doesn't make sense... so we can be justice through His love! There is no fear in love--no fear of someone not accepting the love how we want them to, no fear of the person not returning the love, no fear of being hurt in the process.

Broken hearts for His kingdom do not leave us crumbled and crippled on the floor... they lead us to the same kind of excessive love He is famous for. The love that gets us on our face, begging for Him to use us to love whoever and however He chooses! It leads us to action--to live in the same love that He is famous for!!! To pour our hearts out because no matter the cost-even complete and utter heartbreak-we are getting a look inside the heart of a King, absolutely crazy about His people!

Cadertot has my heart

2009-10-15T00:00:00.002-04:00

Cade, my 2.5 year old nephew, today while we were snuggling on the couch.... (completely uninhibited)

"Annie, I love you."
"I'm sad when you go bye-bye."

I wonder if he knows that all he has to do is say that to me as I am boarding the plane to Kenya and I am pretty sure I will drop everything and stay... love that boy so much!!!

I think a lot about how hard it will be to be away from family and friends... missing birthdays, family dinners, coffee shop talk, and all of the other quality time spent with good friends and family. It will be difficult, I know... but I am confident that the Lord will bring me closer to Him during these times and will provide moments of each day where I truly wish to be no other place in the world. I do not know how long He plans for me to be there, but I pray that my willingness to obey His will is not succeeded by my longing for things of home.

just enough for today, please...

2009-10-13T12:41:00.003-04:00

give us today our daily bread

like, manna in the dessert -
only enough for today.

Help me fight the urge to save up
instead of trusting you again tomorrow.

God, it’s a hard way for us to live
And we need the reminder that you want to be our provider.

Amen.

((got this prayer off of the Word Made Flesh website))

Thanks NYquil, for having the reverse effect on me. . . .

2009-09-07T02:30:00.002-04:00

What in the world--most people take Nyquil and are knocked out for the next 3 days and I take it and feel (for the first time in my entire life) the intense desire to surrender all plans of sleeping and begin training for a marathon ASAP. Ooooh man. It is times like these that I wish I had a trampoline in my room (a lifetime dream that will one day be fulfilled)... or anywhere. I would run to Kentucky if it meant I could get a good tramp jump in.

Do they have trampolines in Kenya? This could be a deal breaker if the answer is no. . .

Announcing my move to Kenya...

2009-09-06T23:44:00.000-04:00

Hi friends!!

I am going to (attempt to) cut to the chase because we all know how I am prone to ramble when given a blank sheet of paper. :) As you all know by now, the precious people of Kenya have had my heart since I first met them in 2007. God has used my experiences and relationships with them to give me a greater picture of His love, character, and grace than I ever imagined I would be able to see on this side of glory. I am so thankful that during my most recent time in Kenya, God revealed the undeniable truth to me that KENYA is where He wants me for now… that is all I know.

I do not know many details of the whos, the whats, the whens, the how longs, the wheres, the hows, or the whys—but we are told to live by faith, not by sight, right? :) He has been so sweet to me by reassuring me day after day that this is His will for me right now and through my absolute surrender to Him and His plans, whatever they entail, His glory will be revealed! Since I first saw a glimpse of what it looks like to receive His love and to be the living expression of this great Love to others, I have been begging Him to use every ounce of me for His purposes--loving those He puts in my path with all He has given me for that day.

Please save my heart the unwanted pride of thinking I am anyone or anything besides a surrendered instrument of His grace (the clay in His hands) who is seeking to bring God the honor and glory He deserves during this short time I am here on earth. I do not view myself as a missionary and ask that you not either; I am just someone who is seeking to do the will of the Lord (His will for ALL of us) in the place that He wants me, for now. I do not feel like His call to care for the poor, weak, orphaned, sick, destitute, widowed is a calling uniquely my own. I strongly believe that His call to care for these people is His will for every single one of us, though we will do this in various arenas, manners, and locations. He has broken my heart time and time again for my brothers and sisters in Kenya and I cannot even put into words how humbled and honored I am to for another opportunity to be His hands and feet among the people there. I pray that Jesus sweetly breaks your heart, too, for the people you are surrounded by that need His love just as much.

Again, I do not know many details yet—but I will keep you posted as things progress. It seems the earliest I will leave will be February 2010, due to some prior commitments/family things (i.e. births and weddings) going on between now and then. I really covet your prayers as I move forward in what I can only describe as ‘radical obedience’ to His will. I cannot thank you enough for the love and support you’ve already shown me and I ask that it continue, if not increase :), during this exciting new step in my life.

Soooo, that is all… just wanted to invite you guys to be a part of what the Lord is doing in my life right now. If you want to know more-ask questions-tell me you think I am crazy-come with me! :) -or anything else… please do!!! I think I might write in a blog if you want to keep up with that.

www.ramblations.blogspot.com

Nakupenda sana sana sana sana! (Love you very very very very much!),

Annie

"...and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, your light will rise in the darkness..." ~Isaiah 58:10

ready, set, go? ... or maybe just GO!

2008-06-20T20:32:00.003-04:00

India is close and I am not ready; plain and simple.

God willing, I will be by the time I land in Delhi... but then again, how ready can I really be?? I think there is something freeing in NOT being ready. Let me explain. Being ready means "prepared mentally or physically [or spiritually, or emotionally] for some experience or action."

Yep--I'm definitely not ready.

I am ready (ok, not yet, but I plan to be by Tuesday afternoon) to GO with reckless abandon and jump in headfirst to something that I KNOW God has called me to... but I am not ready in any other sense of the word. How can I PREPARE for something with so many unknowns?

I don't know what my days will look like. I don't know how often I will get to shower. I don't know how 'comfortable' I will be in such an infamously dirty place. I don't know how I will feel when I walk around the poorest city in this world. I don't know if I will be understood when I speak English. I don't know how to share Jesus with someone who believes something so different. I don't know why He wanted me to go to India in the first place. I don't know how He will use me. I don't know how I am going to survive on Indian food. I don't know what it is He wants to teach me.

But I DO know that I CAN TRUST HIM. I can give Him everything that is weighing me down and He will carry it for me, happily. It's a choice. I can. I don't have to... but I can. And I will, because I don't want the pressure of BEING PREPARED.

All that I am ready for is being used... 100% of me. However He sees fit. If that means I am cleaning out leprous wounds, so be it. If that means I am bathing someone with only days left to live, so be it. If that means I am playing soccer with street boys, so be it. If that means I am cleaning toilets, so be it.

I will be honest, I want to spend time with the people--I want to love on the sweet girls who have been stripped of their freedom, innocence, childhood. I want to comfort the sick and tell them about my sweet Jesus who loves them with an unimaginable love. I want to weep with those who weep and rejoice with those who rejoice.

But, more than anything, I want HIS WILL to be done. Whatever that is... serving is serving and loving is loving, no matter how "glamorous" or unglamorous the ways in which we do them are.

Last night I found these words that Amy Carmichael, a missionary to India, wrote from God to us and they have become my prayer as well. Take this love song in...

"Trust Me, My child. Trust Me with a humbler heart and a fuller abandon to My will than ever thou didst before. Trust Me to pour My love through thee, as minute succeeds minute. And if thou shouldst be conscious of anything hindering the flow, do not hurt My love by going away from Me in discouragement, for nothing can hurt love so much as that. Draw all the closer to Me; come, flee unto Me to hide thee, even from thyself. Tell me about the trouble. Trust me to turn My hand upon thee and thoroughly remove the boulder that has choked thy riverbed, and take away the sand that has silted upon the channel. I will not leave thee until I have done that which I have spoken to thee of. I will perfect that which concerneth thee. Fear though not, O child of My love; fear not."

what is passion??

2008-03-15T00:18:00.002-04:00

Really though... what is it?? I know, but at the same time... I have questions. I wonder, can you be passionate about more than one thing? Of course you can--but can you truly, truly be passionate about lots of things, or is it kind of one of those things where you need to pick something (actually, I think it picks you) and run with it?? Does it come and go in seasons?? Will I look back in twenty years and say "oh yeah, that is the time in my life when I was really passionate about this or that." I hope not. But maybe that is just me hoping that I still care enough about the things I care about now to still be fighting for them. Not that it is always a fight--just something that I feel so strongly about that I cannot be still. Maybe it is okay if it comes and goes in seasons... maybe there are other things that will burden my heart so heavily in the future that I will have no choice but to put other things on the back burner. But I wonder... I know people say you should not spread yourself thin...that you should pick something--pick a cause, pick a fight and give yourself 100% to that... I don't know if I agree. I do and I don't. I think I don't fully agree because I have not been able to do that yet and I am defending the place where I am. Yes, that is probably it. Oh me.

And here is another question... what if all I have to give is love?? It used to bother me that I do not really have a 'talent', if you will... Yes, I am good at some things (please don't mistake this as pity party statement), but I don't think there is anything that stands out as my strength/my talent/my 'gift'. I kind of like it that God, knowing how prideful I can be, has not given me an obvious giftedness in any one area. It is nice... It is humbling to know that I really have nothing to offer (really.... nothing) but the love of Christ that has filled my heart so full that I have some left over to share :) People ask me what I am going to Kenya to do... and really, I could make something up about accomplishing some sort of task or checking some things off someone's to-do list... but I really am just going to love and be loved. Why do I need to go all the way across the world to do that, you ask? That is a story for another day... ha. We are called to love each other DEEPLY... deeply. That word... such conviction comes with that, for me. I will save that for another post though :)

Back to the love thing... what if that is my passion?? Is that possible? Just that everyone would know the love that I know?? The love that is only found in Him? Is that the corny, "Sunday school answer"? Maybe. But it really is the cry of my heart. And I know, I know... this is the call for all of our lives--Jesus tells us that we are to "love one another deeply, from the heart" (1 peter 1:22) and we should "not love with words and tongue, but with actions and truth" (1 john 3:18) and "SINCE GOD LOVED US, we also ought to love one another... if we love one another, GOD LIVES IN US and His love is made complete IN US!" (1 john 4:11-12)

Look, I am no expert at loving people... I fail at this every single day, especially in my own family. But it is something I want to learn to do better... Paul's prayer for the Ephesians is so awesome.
"...I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power to grasp how WIDE and LONG and HIGH and DEEP is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge-that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God."
(ephesians 3:17b-19)

I think this fire that burns inside of me for loving people (especially the 'unloved' ... the orphans, "untouchables", sick, guilt-ridden, 'tainted', neglected) will bring me to different things throughout life that might seem to be my 'passion' for the time being, but I don't think I will ever have it narrowed down enough to be able to answer the question "what is your passion" with a good, solid, one-sentence answer. I get freaked out about saying my passion is to "work with sick kids", or "african orphans", or "the homeless" because that puts parameters on what God can and will do through me... I just want to be 100% His to love whoever needs loving that day. To lead them to the greatest love they will ever know... or just remind them He's there. I want to literally be His hands and feet... His finger that wipes the tears from someone's eyes, His knees that are sore from kneeling by someone's bed to pray, His arms that hold someone who has lost hope, and His abs that are sore from laughing with someone who needs a good laugh... that is my prayer.

I want to go to places where people are hurting and broken and simply love them. Not fix them, not work with them, not lecture them... just love. Love. Love! Is that a job??? Please, sign me up.

Oops... saw this coming!

2007-11-27T02:47:00.000-05:00

Gosh... school stinks right now. It it the end of the semester and that means an unpleasant time for procrastinators like myself! Everything I have been putting off, putting off, putting off is HERE all of a sudden! Yikes... so, spending noon-3am studying/working and still not feeling like I've even put a dent in all my work (that is due tomorrow, mind you) makes me wish I was in Kenya already. Once all of my work is turned in, I will return back to the "savoring every last minute with friends/family/Athens/a shower/reliable electricity/a car/etc."

Things I miss and cannot wait for:

-the simplicity of having just the basics and being ok with that
-going to bed when the sun goes down and waking up when the rooster on my window sill wakes up (with the sun)
-those beautiful smiles that shine so bright, even without the help of dentists/orthodontists
-the worship....there is absolutely nothing like it in the world.
-smiles through tears
-teaching the kids silly "American games"
-being made fun of for my, apparently awful, Kikuyu pronunciation
-playing soccer in a muddy field, in the rain, shoeless, and with a ball made out of plastic bags(trash) bound with rubber bands
-laughing non-stop
-"I want... I want..." "My mother and your mother...." "1,2, make a circle..." "mr willy willy willy...." games/dances with Havilla/Daraja friends!
-the hospitality
-the excitement of taking/being in pictures and then seeing yourself on the screen
-chipati, chai, madazis
-chopping up kale until my hands are blistered
-picking potatoes out of the field...
-tucking the kids in at night!
-seeing the kids RUN home from school for lunch... and RUN back just in the knick of time for more class
-"try and fail, but never fail to try again" being repeated every time someone gives a wrong answer
-small group
-tons of other things i'll list later :)

Goodnight!

opened doors

2007-09-12T23:15:00.000-04:00

WOW... I just cannot get over how good God is and has been and will always be. Even the times in the recent past when I have been tempted to believe otherwise, He has shown me (later) that His will IS perfect, good, and pleasing and even in those times I cannot understand what in the world He's thinking, He eventually humbles me into oblivion and reminds me that He is sovereign and I end up begging forgiveness for NOT believing it in the first place.

I am just thinking about all of the doors that He has opened through something that made me feel like all of the doors had been slammed in my face. I have been able to spend a month of my summer in AFRICA(which easily includes the top 10 best times of my life) instead of doing summer classes, able to move into a new apartment and live with some great girls that I otherwise would never have known, able to spend another semester learning/fellowshiping with RUF, able to spend more time in the same city as Ben, one more year to spend growing and learning before entering the 'work world', possibly a whole semester spent back in Africa, more great friendships, more sense of belonging in Athens,etc. etc. So, when I thought the best thing for me was to spend this year at MCG, God said "not so much... I've got different plans" and He did and they are so much better than I could have ever imagined. I am blown away.

He is just great and I am loving to watch His plan for my life unfold... I want to be 100% HIS to use wherever, whenever, and however He sees fit. Hold me to that!

"Contentment is essentially accepting from God's hands whatever he sends because we know that HE is GOOD and therefore it is good." JI Packer

"The more I seek You..."

2007-04-04T23:04:00.000-04:00

I missed RUF tonight so I was looking through my itunes for some good songs to worship with in between all of the homework I am doing tonight. I came upon "The More I Seek You", a song I have heard a couple of times but never in a situation where I have actually listened to the lyrics. I just downloaded it the other day because I love the voice of the girl singing it. Anyway, I have had it on repeat for about an hour :) If you don't know the song... it has very simple words:

the more I seek You
the more I find You
the more I find You
the more I love You

The words struck me(and continue striking me :) so strongly... in a very humbling way. Basically, I find myself wondering why I am not finding Him in every single facet of life and it all goes back to my unwillingness to constantly, actively, diligently SEEK Him... I am content with knowing the basics of His character. I know this is corny, but I feel like I am just looking for the "cliff notes version" of His Word instead of utilizing every word of it. I find myself satisfied with where I am and honestly, I think being satisfied with mediocrity is one of the worst things EVER! That being said, I am so thankful that He brings this to my attention every so often... it reminds me how much I need Him. But seriously... those lyrics! So simple... but so true. Obviously, the more I seek him, the more I will find Him... and the more I find Him, the more I know about Him, the more I see His hand in every little detail, the more I LOVE Him! I mean, how could my love for Him not increase when I know how ridiculously incredible He is!?!

Anyway, the rest of the song goes on to say:

I wanna sit at Your feet
drink from the cup in Your hands
Lay back against You and breathe
feel Your heart beat

This love is so deep
it's more than I can stand
I melt in your peace
it's overwhelming

Do you ever feel guilty singing certain words to songs because you realize you aren't really representing the type of love the words portray?? Maybe not. Or that question might not have made sense... but, I guess I just ask myself "Do you really want to know Him that well?? and if so, why are you not acting like it? Why are you not seeking Him with every ounce of who you are?" I DO want to know everything about Him, but I just forget that sometimes!!

Okay, I guess that is enough for tonight....!! Hopefully, for y'all's sake, my future posts will be more legible and even funny possibly?? We'll see :)