New Home....

Things That Are Different About My New Home:

1. Porcelain toilet seats

2. Mirrors in the bathroom

3. A bigger kitchen with a pantry

4.  No water damage, no black mold

5.  No cracks in the walls

6.  No late night visits from slugs, spiders, or mosquitoes

7.  Having to actually search out the location of my dogs instead of knowing where they are at all times because we're practically living on top of each other

8.  Maintainence men who show up when they say they will

9.  Being guarded by a locked electric fence, a hired guard, and a dog

10.  Having the ability to send the girls outside without worrying they will disturb someone or be hit by a car

11.  Having the ability to lock all of my oors, and having the ability to shut my doors and have them remain shut

12.  Actual tiles on the floors instead of plastic panels glued to the floor

13.  Having the ability to put a blanket out at night and watch the stars

14.  Peace of mind

Unearthing the Power of Donations.....

We all know how much of a blessing a single donation can be to a person in need.  Undoubtedly it is an incredible way to show someone God cares for them and loves them.  But have you ever stopped to think about the true potential donations have in affecting all aspects of the ministry, not just the receiver?

Anyone who has Facebook knows I've been having a difficult time lately.  Call it culture stress, call it life stress.  I've been having difficulties with the house I'm living in, and am currently looking for a new house to move to.  Whatever.  I had been choosing to grouse and complain and wallow in the difficult stuff so much, I was neck deep in self pity so thick it was virtually impossible to notice all of the Lord's blessings all around me.  The other day, I was hand feeding a banana to a woman who was so severely burned, she couldn't move at all.  She told me that, until that moment, she didn't know God loved her.  Outwardly, I thanked her for such a beautiful compliment.  Inwardly, her comment lit on me like biting down on a sensitive tooth. It was true for me, too.   It is so easy for me to share God's love for others.  But, when it comes to myself, well, that can be a different story.

This morning, I realized that I allowed my self pity to grow to such a state that I really didn't want to do anything at all.  Check it out: I ALLOWED it to grow to such a state where I felt the only thing I could do was just lay in my bed.  There were many, many options I could have chosen to get my rear end off of the pity pot, but there I sat, choosing to be affixed to it.  The one thing I did do was pray.  Through the grace of a loving and merciful God, I was able to make it to church this morning.  I really didn't want to go, which is always an indication for me that I need to go.  As always, the message was incredible and cut me right to the quick.  God is in control.  Even when we think He's not working, He is.  We just have to be still and listen, and discover the way He wants us to go.  So, sitting there in church, still affixed to the pity pot, I asked Him. I have a furlough coming up in June, and I've been struggling to decide if I am going to remain in the states or return to Kenya to continue the work I am doing here.  It's been a struggle that I've mainly kept private until now, because I've been afraid to put it into words.

God didn't answer me right away.  Normally, He never does.  God works on us all in different ways, and one of the things He is working on with me is patience.  After the service ended and I had received prayer, I started to leave the courtyard to go home.  However, I felt the urge to hang out and mingle for a while, so I turned around and went back to the crowd.  I approached a woman I knew, but never really approached in a social setting.  She had been generous in giving some informational material for parents about having a child with cancer.  Out of the blue, she told me she had something for me.  She handed me a blue bag, and inside were some more informational pamphlets to share.  She didn't know it then, and she doesn't know it now, but that small stack of pamphlets effected me in such a way I'm sure she never considered.  Those pamphlets were my affirmation from the Lord that I am exactly where He wants me to be, and I am doing exactly what He wants me to do.

About an hour later, I found myself at a church service held in an orphanage.  As many a mzungu (white person) knows, most often when they are visiting a service of some sort they are asked to speak with absolutely no preparation.  You would think that by now, I would be prepared for this, but no.  I always rely on the Holy Spirit to give me the right words to address the audience. This afternoon, I was surprised to find myself telling twenty young, eager, listening eyes and ears that God loved them, and and He has a plan for them, and to not be afraid.  Just a recap here: About three hours prior, I was affixed to the pity pot wondering if I should give up and leave Kenya all together....three hours later I was telling a group of orphans God loved them, that He had a plan, and to not be afraid.  Holy smokes!

I hope I'm getting my point across here that donations don't just affect the person who is receiving them.  They really have the potential of doing so much more than that.  When you give to a ministry, you are affirming God's purpose for the life of the person running the ministry.  You are gracing that person with your love and encouragement, which in turn, through the grace of God, affirms God's purpose in our lives, and motivates us to continue doing His work, regardless of the difficult situations life can hand us at times.  God's love is never linear.  It is an unending circle that flows from one person to the next.  It is so amazing and so perfect it effects people in ways we could never possibly imagine.  Thank you all for your encouragement, your affirmations, and sharing God's love with all of us.  We ALL are blessed by you.

Attitude of Gratitude

My Gratitude List for Today:

1. I'm so grateful God has never settled for how I am as person and is constantly giving me the opportunity to grow as an individual.

2.  I'm grateful for the people in my life who care about me enough to give me the straight dope and don't try to pacify me.  Sometimes the true meaning of caring is caring enough to say the truth.

3.  I'm grateful so many people love me unconditionally and have such confidence in me, even when I don't always show the same courteousness toward myself.

4. I'm grateful so many people believe in me and want to support my dream.

5. I'm grateful to my patients, who teach me something new every single time I am with them.  They always give me so much more than I will ever be able to give them.

6.  I'm grateful God didn't give up on me and gives me the strength to continue wanting something better for myself.

7.  I'm grateful for the healing process.

8.  I'm grateful for all of the people who welcome me into their homes with open arms and show me the true meaning of completely unconditional Christian love.

9.  I'm grateful for bananas.

10.  I'm grateful that I can always find at least one thing per day to laugh about.

11.  I'm grateful for the people in my life who can laugh at anything.

12. I'm grateful that, no matter what, I can find peace in prayer.

13.  I'm grateful for my home, and my two awesome doggies to snuggle with.

14. I'm grateful I have things in my lfe to include in a gratitude list.

The Miracle of Bananas....

When living in a third word country, improvisation in some way, shape or form is almost always a part of every single day.  Often times when bad things happen to our friends and families in our home countries, volunteers and missionaries may find themselves unable to go back home and be a part of the support. During these difficult times, we have to rely on God for opportunities to improvise and offer support in our own ways.

A few months ago, I lost two uncles within a couple of weeks of each other.  As was the rest of the family, I was very distraught, however, unable to find closure through their funerals, as I was thousands of miles away.    I talked to my supervisor, Sister Theresa, about this.  She invited me to her home for the weekend, where the annual memorial service for her parents was going to take place.  She and her family graciously and generously allowed me to include both of my uncles in the service.  Prayers were said for them.  There was a lot of good food, dancing, laughing and singing.  It was something they both would have enjoyed tremendously, and it was also a way for my to honor and celebrate their lives in my own special way.

On April 15, 2013, my beloved home town of Boston was rocked to its core when three bombs went off at the end mark of the Boston Marathon.  Three people were killed instantly, including and eight year old boy, and over a hundred people were seriously and critically injured.  My brother, Matthew, lives and works in Boston.  For twenty minutes I didn't know if he was OK.  Those were some of the worst twenty minutes of my life, and I don't want to feel that way ever again.  Like most who have been touched by this completely senseless tragedy, I am having a difficult time comprehending this.  When this first happened, I asked God why.  It took several days for me to be able to have an open and honest discussion with a close and trusted friend about the situation.  I felt guilty because, although several people on my Facebook news feed asked for prayer for the bomber, I wasn't one of them.  My friend and I went to church that afternoon, and afterward we just sat together and prayed for whatever came into our hearts.  I found myself praying for the person who committed these crimes.  The bible teaches that when satan knows he is in the presence of God, he must bow down to God's power because God's power is stronger than even satan himself.  So I asked God to penetrate the evilness of this person, and to enter his heart, if only for this never to happen again.  

Today I "spoiled" my patients by bringing them bananas.  Although I tend to bring in candy more often than I should, I do like to indulge them in healthy foods as well, at least from time to time.  Today was my day to visit the ward for folks who have been critically and seriously burned.  I try to go in the afternoons, because many of the patients are burned over sixty percent of their bodies, and have a difficult time moving.  The nurses have a hard enough time tending to the patient's medical needs; often times they don't have time to feed the patients when the food is actually warm.  So, I like to help them get a warm meal in their tummies whenever I can.  Needless to say, all were excited to eat bananas.  As I mashed up little bits and fed them from my hand to their mouths, I couldn't help but feel like I was helping the victims of the blast, vicariously, through them.  For every child I comforted and allowed to cry on my shoulder, I was comforting all of the children who were victims in Boston.  I don't know.  It may seem crazy, but helping people whenever I can is always the best medicine for me in dealing with difficult situations in my own life.  Today one of the nurses in the burn unit said to me, "God will bless you,".  She didn't understand; He already does bless me, every single moment I spend with my patients.  I have always said and will always continue to say that my patients give me so much more than I will ever be able to give them.

Problems of the First World......

I have to admit: at times I find myself stuck in the "first world problem" syndrome.  I find myself mercilessly complaining and bemoaning to almost anyone who will listen about problems that most people in this country would give anything to have.  The day we found out that Tony had died, the biggest problem I had that day is that the store wasn't carrying Dill flavored hummus chips, Helman's Mayonnaise, or macaroni and cheese.  Forgetting the fact that I actually had the money to purchase these items, which are not cheap, I was grousing about this the entire afternoon.  Lately, it's been my house.  This year, the rainy season has been brutal.  The rain comes down in cold, amassing torrents, sometimes for hours on end.  People have lost their houses, and some have even lost their lives.  And I'm getting upset because, for the past two days, the groundsman has said that he is going to fix some minor water damage to my walls but hasn't done it as of yet.  Forgetting the fact that I live in a house whose living room is bigger than most people's entire houses, I'm focusing on the imperfect spots on my wall.

One of the many gifts my patients give to me is perspective.  For starters, all I have to do is spend a couple of hours there and the self pity is knocked right out of me.  But apart from that, despite their incredibly difficult circumstances, the patients are always happy to receive visitors.  They find such incredible joy and pleasure in the smallest of things.  A small bottle of shampoo, or a toothbrush brings a smile.  A loving embrace or touch brings tears to their eyes.  An improvised dance or burst of song gets them laughing and clapping.  And their joy is contagious.  Through their joy, I find myself experiencing joy as well.  It pains me that the hospital ministry is one of the most untouched ministries, because the hospital holds the most amazing gems of humanity.  Their stories truly are incredible.  The love we share is something unlike I have ever experienced.  I don't consider myself superior in any way.  Rather, I am grateful my patients accept me and love me, as broken as I am.  In the past, I have bee called an "angel".  What a lot of people fail to realize is that the miracles I share with my patients are completely mutual.  We help and love and take care of each other.  That's how it works.  Sharing God's love is never one sided.  We share God's love with those who need it, and trust that God will share His love, wisdom and truth to us through those with whom we share His love.  It's a beautiful, glorious,. never ending process that has no beginning and no end.

Forever Young....

This past month, two precious little ones went to the Lord.  I've been a lay minister in the Kenyan government hospital system for a little over a year, and each loss still hurts me deeply; particularly children.  Whenever I go into a children's ward and find an empty bed that was once filled, my heart still skips a beat, wondering if the child went home to his family or to the Lord.   When the Lord called me to work with the sick and the dying, I never questioned it.  Ever since I was a little girl, comforting sick and dying people had always been a natural fit for me.  However, when a child dies, sometimes I find myself asking why.  It doesn't seem very fair to me that a child dies before he really has the opportunity to live.  When I'm sad, I know I'm only sad for me, and not for them.  I know they are finally at peace with the Lord, and free from pain.  I'm eternally grateful to the Lord that He has given me the opportunity to get to know these children and their families, and to allow me to help them have meaningful, fun, and fulfilling lives, however long we spend together.  And I always have my memories and the life lessons these children have taught me.  Here are two of them:

Remembering Tony

I didn't have an opportunity to get to know Tony as much as I would have liked to.  Mainly because he was quiet, patient and soft spoken, so he didn't make himself known.  One thing I do remember about Tony is that was was always kind and courteous.  No matter how rotten he was feeling, he tried to make others feel comfortable.  He made sure visitors felt welcome and had a chair to sit in.  He was very liberal with his hugs, and loved to be hugged.  When sweets were distributed, he didn't reach for them and call for them like other children.  He would simply sit and wait his turn.  Tony taught me that the opportunity to show love and compassion is always present, even in the midst of pain.

Remembering Faith

When I first met Faith, she pretended like she was going to run into me with her wheelchair. I feigned being seriously hurt, and she laughed so hard she cried.  That was the beginning of a game that we played nearly right up to her death.  I loved Faith's brand of humor.  A fellow connoisseur of sarcasm, I could relate to Faith in such a way that not many children could. The thing I remember most about Faith was her insatiable desire to laugh and smile.  If there wasn't anything for her to smile about, she would create something to laugh and smile about.  She was cheeky and  deliciously mischievous.   If I were playing catch with another child, she would zoom in between us with her wheelchair to take the ball away.  She and I had a game where she would pretend to hurt me.  She would throw a beach ball at me, or pretend to run into me with her wheelchair.  My part of the game was to always act really hurt; falling to the ground, moaning and writhing in pain.  She loved it.  Sometimes she laughed so hard she cried.She also made fun of my American accent; she would repeat words I said in a funny little voice that was her rendition of my voice.  She also stowed away sweets under her blanket and pretend like she didn't receive one; all with a mischievous twinkle in her beautiful eyes.  She never did any of these things in a mean or spiteful way; it was just part of her plucky character that made her such a joy to be around.  She was a breath of fresh air to me in my travels; I could always count on Faith for a huge belly laugh that would just make my day.  It touched my heart to see how much her big brother loved her so much.  Faith taught me that even in the most horrible of situations, there is always room for smiles, laughter, and fun! 

Whenever someone in the ministry dies, my ritual is to play a song for them when I get home.  If it's one of my kiddos, I always play Joan Baez's version of 'Forever Young'.  It seems to encompass all that I hope and pray for for these kids.

Rest in the arms of the Lord, Faith and Tony.

Isaiah 11:6

I'll never forge the first time I met B (first initials only given in names to protect privacy).  The children's cancer ward of Kenyatta hospital is a gated ward, to protect the children from walking outside the ward, where they should not be without the supervision of an adult.  As I entered the ward this day, I noticed the gate was uncharacteristically locked.  I thought this strange until I heard a scream.  As I looked down, there was a girl on the floor.  She was sobbing uncontrollably and desperately trying to push herself through the gate.  I learned that, as a baby, B had been abandoned by her parents to her grandmother.  For twelve years, all this child knew was living with grandmother in a one room hut.  Suddenly, and without warning, she was thrust into an environment with many new people, sounds, and smells.  Any kind of human contact she was receiving was only with pain.  Coupled with the fact that she very abruptly found herself left alone by the one constant, loving, comfortable person in her life (most of the time parents and family are not permitted to stay with their children and can only see them during visiting hours), her little system went into complete and total overload, and she was in full fledged panic.  The nurses had tried for several hours to try and calm her, to no avail.  In the past, I have been a careworker for adults and children with mental health issues in group home settings, so I had been trained in special restraint techniques that keep myself, the other person, and people around the both of us safe.  However, this was several years ago, so there were a couple of factors working against me.  First and foremost, a lot of the training I had went out the window.  Secondly, as bad as this sounds, I'm not as young as I used to be.  My body doesn't move in quite the same way as it used to. However, as I got right down on the floor with her, I found that it didn't even matter, because God had the wheel.  Like riding a bicycle, the techniques came as easily to me as if I had just learned them yesterday.  I also found the Lord gave me all the strength I needed.  I got right down on the floor with her and asked the Lord to give her peace, over and over again.  She put up a pretty good fight.  As you can see from the picture above, she is tall and very lanky.  In fact, she's taller than me!  She tried to pull my hair, elbow me in the nose, and scratch me.  It didn't matter.  Whatever she did, I was right there with her.  In about ten minutes, it was like a switch was shut off inside her.  She went limp.  I was able to hold her and rock her like a little girl.  I discovered she could speak English perfectly; no one knew the language she was speaking before.  She wasn't speaking KiSwahili, and it didn't seem to be a recognizable tribal language, either.  After holding her, rocking her, and letting her cry into my shoulder for a while, I helped her up and we sat together.  I gave her a ring I had been wearing, as a memento to remind her of the day the Lord came to help her, and that she could also ask for help from Him at any time and He will be there for her.  She has been calm, well behaved, and has even been happy from time to time ever since.  Apart from peace for B, one of the best possible outcomes of this situation was the nurses.  They had been trying for hours to calm her down, to no avail.  They truly were shocked that during my short time with her, she had completely changed for the better.  They called me an "angel".  I was able to tell them it wasn't me.  I simply prayed to God for help, and He listened to me.  My prayer is that it at least got the wheels turning for them.  "And a child shall lead them,".