"successful" loving

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

Losing myself

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

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

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...

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

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...

40 days...

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.