So it has been one month since my feet hit the northwest soil after the fulfillment of a life-long dream. Where am I at? Where do I go? How have I changed?
These questions, their answers, and a million other thoughts flood my mind daily.
Where am I at? Well, I finally feel like the dust has settled as far as the crazy first three weeks are concerned—the surreal-ness about being back in the USA and all the mixed thoughts, surprises at changes, and the odd habits that don’t seem to fit here anymore…I am angry and joyful, grieving the loss of my friend, the sudden loss of my cousin and subsequent whirlwind trip to Minnesota (including a near-death my mother fell asleep at the wheel incident on the drive home), starting back at work, and plugging back in to my church family. I am learning it is okay to be where I am—to only be working part time and to know I need that—I need the freedom to process, to reconnect, to reconcile my corner of the world with the bigger picture I lived in for 3 mere months. I am pensive, nostalgic, weepy and joyful—usually in a span of 15 minutes. I am incredibly blessed to have supportive and understanding friends who let me talk, cry, and tie in my experience to daily life here. I am learning to have grace with myself knowing that transition is a process and I will be gleaning lessons from this experience for a lifetime. To anyone who has let me tell a story for the hundredth time, let me show them pictures and videos, thank you. Thank you for being a part of my Kenyan journey.
Where do I go? I have learned to focus more on the day to day. Today I go to work, I read, I listen, I reconnect. I step into my days and weeks knowing that I can only take one day at a time and must see it as a gift. I go into my church family and share the story of the children in Kibera with the children I am privileged to teach here—ones with huge hearts who want to know the kids by name and want to send their toys to them. The reality of death has been pummeling me lately and it’s been a blender. I am grieved by the family, friends and acquaintances (a guy who went to my university) I’ve lost, hurt for their close loved ones, and can’t help but think of the precious kids I know by name who live in the largest slum in east Africa and face the reality of death daily. It has been a unique struggle because it really hasn’t been a “shaking my fists at Jesus” time—but more of a grasping of the reality of sin and death and hurt in this world which is humbly leading me TO Him—the only constant, the only hope that keeps its promise. So, I go to the cross, I go to the Bible, I go to the One who never leaves me or forsakes me. I go out into my day with a somber purpose—knowing that this life is not a guarantee. I go out with hope—that I can reconnect, can adjust, can keep the memories and friendships I made in Kenya. I go out intentionally—telling the stories of the children; and with a new-found gratitude for the life I didn’t ask for nor do I deserve. I go out in prayer—trusting that my time in Seattle is purposeful and that each day here matters just as much as everyone I spent in Kenya.
How have I changed? That is difficult to grasp—and I know it will continue to change as I process and adjust…but what exactly am I adjusting to? I know I won’t adjust back to “what I was” and that’s exactly how it should be. I never want to take the *little* things for granted—clean running water, trustworthy electricity, a full fridge, an education, and health, to name a few. I don’t want to jump back into the sea of a consumerism and materialistically defined sense of security, status, and joy. I know I cannot throw off the culture I was born into—and in some ways will have to accept this reality around me. But I never want to forget to be grateful for the abundant blessings here—even if that means awkwardly tearing up as I munch on fries with friends after church—grieving for the kids I know who may not have eaten today. I have changed in that I am more aware of how time-focused western culture is. I am changed because I am blown away by how constant Jesus is. I have changed in so many ways—many I know I cannot yet articulate. I am changed and know that this one month is just the beginning.
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