Who's Driving?

I don't believe I've made it to be much of a secret that this past month has been difficult for me.  Physically, I've been tired and run down.  I've felt angry, depressed, and out of control.  Towards the beginning of the month, there was a pretty brutal terrorist attack in the small coastal town of Mpeketoni.  At the last count I dared to look at, 49 people were killed.  The assault targeted men, and most of the men were shot in the head right in front of their families.  We've had several terrorist attacks in the months preceding this one.  I'm not sure why this particular attack affected me the way it did.  As I watched the footage of men, women and children screaming and crying, fear and rage grew inside me.  I wasn't angry at the people who committed these horrible acts.  I was angry at God.  My hear understood about free will,. but my head kept asking, where was God when all of this was happening?  Why couldn't He stop it?  Why isn't He doing anything to help the situation?  I spent some time with a few very strong Christians I love and respect, and had some open and honest conversations with them.  But, even in those conversations, I really didn't get any satisfactory answers.  I wanted to know why, and of course, only God knows why each individual person chooses free will over Him.  Fear bred from confusion.  When I'm confused, I feel out of control.  When I feel out on control, I get angry.  When I'm scared, I also get angry.  In response to this situation, I felt both of those things very strongly.  I really had a hard time believing this was how God was running the world.  This was hard for me to admit until recently, but the trust that I felt I was gaining in God had gone away.   So essentially, I thought I could do better, and so I tried.  Believe me when I tell you, I could control things no better than an infant could drive a car.  And I discovered that the more I tried to control things, the worse it got.  I tried to control people, which led to strained and broken relationships.  Not just with individuals, but with God Himself.  The farther I moved away from Him, the worse things got.  I wasn't just taking the control for myself.  I was also giving it to people, places, and things.  Interactions with people were controlling me.  Money was controlling me.  Food was controlling me.  The internet and TV was controlling me.  Even the people up the street playing their music too loud was controlling me.
Eventually, two and a half weeks into other things controlling me and me trying to control things instead of God, I decided t take a day from my "duties" of playing God and took a hike into Maasai country.  For those of you who've never been, the view in the Maasai country of Kenya is absolutely breathtaking.  It's also one of the few places in the country that is untouched by a lot of people, garbage, noise, and pollution.  Basically when you're there, you're surrounded by nature and it's the best place for me to listen to God.  A lot happened out there between me and God.  There were some arguments, blaming, and anger involved, all on my part.  There were some nice surprises, like herds of wild zebras and antelope.  I shed a lot of tears.  I didn't get the answers I was looking for.  But, I got the answers I needed.  I know God is there for me, even when I turn my back on Him. I know I can choose how I feel, and I can choose how things affect me.  And for sure, I know that I'm lousy at playing God, and hate being in the "driver's seat".  It's not working for me anymore.  Life still isn't perfect, nor will it ever be.  The people up the street still play their music too loud sometimes.  I'm still waiting on things I've been waiting on for what seems like ages.  And I'm still working on allowing God to be in control, even when I don't agree or understand His decisions.  I tend to give things over to God one moment, then snatch it back the next.  But, in this moment, right now things are better.  I'll take it.

Do YOU Want It?

There are days when I don't talk to God out loud, but in my mind.  Today was one of those days.  I'm here to tell ya, God isn't always gentle.  When we need a swift kick in the butt, like I needed today, He is firm, honest, but still very forgiving and kind.  I seem to have struggled with the same problem most of my life.  I wait until things are as bad as they possibly can be before I want to do something to change the situation.  I'm happy to report that, at long last, I feel I am small but steady strides in improving this.  Lately things have not been the worst, but they've gotten as close to being what I consider to be the worst, as I could get without going that one extra step into "worstdom".  Lately I've felt like I've been at some sort of a crossroad.  I've been told my someone very knowledgeable that many missionaries come to this point around the two year mark.  That time has come and gone for me, and for a while I've felt like God was telling me to "fish or cut bait,".  I've taken on far more worrying than God allots for any one of His beloved creations.  And, boy oh boy, have I been feeling sorry for myself.  For the past few months, all of this negativity has manifested into spending a lot of time at home, in front of the computer, the TV, or lying in bed.  As the negativity increased, so did my resentment and anger toward God.   I felt that if He wanted me to expand the ministry so badly, He needed to step up His part in helping me.  What I refused to acknowledge was, He has always been there for me; I wasn't close to Him because I was failing to do my part.

So, today was a day and a half for me.  Self pity was at an all time high, and I just couldn't stop crying.  I was so frustrated things weren't my way.  I was in a public place, so I couldn't scream out loud.  But, in my mind, I was screaming.  The convo went down a little like this:
ME: "God, WHY aren't you helping me?"
GOD: "Do you want it (the ministry)?"
ME: "I need You to help me!"
GOD: "Do you want it?"
ME: "Why can't you just help me out with this?"
GOD: "DO YOU WANT IT?"
ME: "YES! You know I want this more than anything!".
GOD: "Then stop feeling sorry for yourself and just go get it!  I'll take care of the house, your food, your income, your utilities, even all your crazy animals.  If YOU want this, YOU go get it.  I can't want it for YOU.  As soon as YOU want this as much as I do, that's when I'll be there and that's when I'll be walking alongside you.".
So, there it is in a nutshell.  I have to want this for myself for it to work.  No one, not even God, can want it for me.  I have to want it for ME.  So, literally in a heartbeat or two, I found that I had dropped the self pity bologna and a weight was lifted off my shoulders.  I consoled a nurse in the burn unit who had lost a patient of her that was very special to her.  I made some kids with cancer laugh with some improvised clowning.  It was small potatoes, but, for the first time in months, I didn't feel sad, and I didn't feel sorry for myself.  For the first time, whatever steps I have to take to expand the ministry, no matter how long or difficult, doesn't matter to me at all.  I realized today that even though at times it seems as though we're light years apart, God and I really are in sync with a lot of things.  But I have to put MY effort in along with God's.  He's making me work for it, and that's exactly how it should be.  Although I may not have the same physical ailments as my patients, out struggles are very similar.  They tool, are in struggles every day of their lives, where they can't seem to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  Sometimes I feel that way too.  If this were meant to be easy, I wouldn't be able to revel in the miracles and blessings I see in my patients and in myself along the way.

At the end of the day, we just need each other.  We ALL need each other.  Every single person I come across in any given day has the potential of making an impact on my life; good, bad or otherwise.  And I have the ability to do the same.  And we need different people in different ways.  Some, we need their expertise.  Some, we need their contacts with others,.  Some we need their friendship, some their love, some their spiritual guidance and mentorship.  The point is, foibles and all, we need each other.  We share God's love with others, and we trust that God will share His love with us through others as well.  The heart of my ministry is agape love, and it wasn't working because I wasn't putting in the effort of making it work.  And things still aren't perfect.  Even though I had amazing time with God today, the problems I had before that time are still there afterward.  But what an amazing feeling it is knowing that God is there.  He wants this for me just as much as I do, and He loves me enough to make me make His desires for me come true.  

Nail Polish and Prayer

There was a series of horrific bomb blasts here in Nairobi last Friday, and it occurred in one of the largest used clothing markets in the country.  Many people were killed on the spot, and scores of others were sent to various hospitals, fighting for their lives.  I decided to go to Kenyatta to see how I could help.  The first of many miracles was that I was allowed admittance into the mass casualty unit in the first place.  The ward itself was closed off by a metal gate, and guarded.  I didn't think I was going to be allowed to go in.  In fact, two people ahead of me had been rejected admittance.  However, I explained that I was a volunteer hospital chaplain and I was admitted without a problem.

At first, I was genuinely encouraged by what I saw.  Although many were in a great deal of pain, most of the victims seemed to be in pretty high spirits.  The greeted me warmly, and the ladies readily accepted their nails being painted with the nail polish I had carried with me.  The power of human touch in infallible when it comes to healing, so I always try to incorporate it into my ministry whenever I can.  As I painted their nails, I heard their stories of survival.  Most were shopping for clothing, some had business that were completely destroyed.  It touched me that folks were more concerned about how they were going to support their families than they were about their health and welfare.  

The main thing I wanted to portray to these folks is that God loves them, and He has a purpose for each and every one of their lives.  Their lives are precious, and they have meaning.  

The more I traveled from ward to ward, the more I began to realize that where I started from was the ward where folks were doing the best.  As I went to other wards, it seemed to get worse and worse.  There were folks with broken and sometimes even missing limbs.  People suffering from tremendous depression.  And then there was Lilian.

Lilian is a patient in the acute burn unit of Kenyatta.  I didn't know that any victims were sent there.  At first, I assumed she was there for the same reason most other women are there: cooking on a faulty gas stove.  She then proceeded to tell me that she had been a victim of the bombing.  Her left hip was fractured, and there were third degree burns on both of her arms.  Worst of all, Lilian had been six months pregnant with twins, a boy and a girl.  Both babies perished when Lilian received her grievous injuries.  Lilian explained her situation to me so matter-of-factly that, at first, I couldn't believe what I was hearing.  I actually had to verify her story with the nurses because I couldn't believe it could be true.  But it was.  This was a first for me.  I had never dealt with so great an amount of human suffering as I had with her.  At that moment, God spoke to me.  He said that sometimes I need to accept the fact that I an only help folks cope with their pain without being able to take it away.  No amount of nail polish, bananas, sweets or anything else was going to take Lilian's pain.  The only thing I could think to do was lean in close to her, rub her head, and tell her how sorry I was and that God loved her.  Understandably, the only thing she could do is turn her back to me and fall asleep.  I kissed her cheek and allowed her to have whatever moment's solace she could muster.

Sometimes, more than we care to admit, there will be times when God is the only one who can take a person's pain.  During these times, our role is to help the person cope with the pain until such a time that they are finally ready to leave their pain at the Cross.  This can be hard, especially when it comes to loving someone.  But it's so important to recognize those times, for you as well as for the person you're helping.  In the end, the experience of laying down your burdens yourself in immeasurable to the experience of having someone try to do it for you.  Once you do something for yourself, you gain confidence in knowing you will be able to do it time and time again. 

Diamonds in the Rough

Recently, i began visiting two very special children.  Satrine is one and a half years old.  He and his mother were one of many victims of a cruel, senseless act of violence committed against their church in Mombasa, Kenya.  Many folks were sitting in church on a Sunday listening to a sermon.  Out of the blue, a large group suddenly ambushed the church and began spraying the sanctuary with bullets.  In the panic, Satrine's mother attempted to shield her son from the rapid fire.  In the melee, she was shot in the chest and died immediately.  In an unbelievably horrendous twist of fate, the very bullet that took his mother's life then became lodged in this beautiful little boy's head.  His 13 year old brother took him to the hospital, where, shortly thereafter, he was transferred to Kenyatta Hospital.  Unbeknownst to this miraculous little boy, he has now become a symbol of hope and prosperity in a country wrack with violence and hate.  His picture and story have been featured in print and television media all across the country.  Everyone knows him and everyone has been sending him prayers.  He overcame so many obstacles, including losing his loving mother, receiving an incredibly grievous head and brain injury, being abruptly uprooted from the only place he's ever known, major brain surgery, and the subsequent physical and psychological healing process he's dealing with as he now faces a life without his mother.  Despite all of this, at the end of the day he's still a little boy.  He's got a gorgeous smile that just doesn't quit.  He loves to laugh and to eat.  He loves to hide from visitors as they enter the room in an attempt to jump out and scare them.  He loves cartoons and playing with children.  I brought him some markers and paper, and he drew me a picture.  I took it home with me, and it now resides in a prominent place on my office desk, where I can always see it.  Not because it was created by a now famous (albeit not in a good way) little boy.  Whenever I look at it, it reminds me that, even when life seems so difficult it can be absolutely unbearable, there is always, always an opportunity for gladness.  Even in the midst of unspeakable tragedy and despair, there is always an opportunity to smile, to laugh, to enjoy.  It may be like finding a diamond in the rough of a darkened cave, but don't give up.  Keep looking, and you'll find it
The second child I began visiting a couple of weeks ago is Winnie.  No one is really sure how old Winnie is...she's been aged somewhere between five and nine years old.  Winnie's entire family, from grandparents and parents, to siblings and cousins, were ravaged by AIDS and subsequently all have succumbed to the disease.  One of the complications Winnie is facing is a form of tuberculosis that is multiple drug resistant.  I found Winnie by a story in the newspaper in which she was featured.  When the story ran, she had been there for several months.  Apparently, no one had visited her in quite some time, and the newspaper was trying to get visitors and donations for her.  When I visited Winnie for the first time, I was shocked.  I was first shocked by her appearance.  At age five, Winnie weighed less than one and half year old Satrine.  I can make an O shape with my thumb and forefinger and place it around her forearm, with plenty of room to spare.   I was them shocked by all of the donations that had appeared in her room the past week.  There were books, clothes, toys, and even a radio.  Several people had responded to the article and sent her donations.  However, although their gestures were generous and kind and she did indeed enjoy all of her new gifts, no one was giving her what she really needed: human interaction.  I first noticed this when I was getting ready to leave after my first visit.  During that visit I allowed her to experience things she probably hadn't experienced in a long time.  I held her, I hugged her, I sang to her, I played with her, I prayed with her, and I drew with her.   As I was preparing to leave, she became very withdrawn.  She refused to look at me, and refused to allow me to touch her.  Tears filled her eyes.  It broke my heart.  Not just because it was difficult leaving her.  But because this beautiful little girl had been starved of human interaction for so long that she reacted so strongly when I left.  Gradually, as she is beginning to realize more and more that when I leave, I do return to see her, the goodbyes have been getting less difficult.
It got me to thinking how much folks cling to things that, in the long run, don't matter at all.  I know I do that frequently.  I justify my need for material things by using them as coping strategies for living in a third world country, but it's just a lame excuse for using material things to fulfill my needs, rather than using what counts.  God.  Prayer.  Family.  Friends.  Fellowship.  Reaching out to others.  No material possession I have ever owned held a candle to the healing properties I've experienced in reaching out to others and for others.  There is so much more healing to be found in reaching for God instead of a donut.  It was no accident God made humans to be social creatures.  We are never, ever alone, unless we choose to be.  Material possessions will come and go.  In the end, whatever possessions we accumulate here on earth won't follow us to heaven.  Winnie taught me that, no matter how much we try to placate ourselves with material possessions, at the end of the day,  it's the people, not possessions with which you share your life. All that really matters is love and fellowship.

Through the Eyes of a Child

For people looking from the outside into the world of hospice chaplaincy for children, it would seem as though we had a rough day today.  A nine year old girl I had spent quite a bit of time with passed away today.  It's hard to describe the experience as a whole, but I'm going to do the best I can here.  To understand my point of view, you have to first understand where these children have been, as opposed to where they are going.  Through the grace of God, I do the best I can to walk along these children, their families, and their caregivers, comfort them, console them, and bring them whatever amount of happiness I can during the absolute worst times of their lives.  The pain and fear these children face on a daily basis continues to amaze me.  They face procedures grown adults would not be able to get through, screaming and crying all the way, but they get through them.  They endure countless surgeries, endless side effects, and medications that make them unbelievably sick.  More often than not, their parents stay in the waiting room, crying, knowing their children are suffering, but they can't bring themselves to comfort their children because they can't bear to see their babies in pain.  It is a daily struggle for all concerned, ending only when the Lord decides to call his beautiful little servant home.

So, this is what the child is leaving behind.  If I am sad when a child dies, it's only for myself.  I grow to love each and every one of these children as if they were my own, and every time one of them dies, a small piece of my heart that belonged to that child dies right along with them.  I can't adequately describe the experience of watching a child when he is having his first look at Heaven with his own eyes.  There is a look of amazement and peace, unlike he has ever experienced on earth.  And yes, I am grateful for that.  I'm grateful God's faithful little servant is finally finding peace beyond anything he could have imagined.  I'm grateful to be able to see the children in peace and contentment, instead of in fear and in agonizing pain.  I am grateful he is out of pain, and I'm grateful he doesn't have to be afraid anymore.  And I'm grateful knowing, time and time again, that there is a beautiful and glorious place called Heaven; knowing that, whatever I experience here on earth, will eventually melt away and I will be renewed in His love mercy and grace in a place so beautiful and peaceful I can't even begin to comprehend the extent of it.

Perspective

A few nights ago, I experienced one of the worst stomach aches I've ever had in my life.  I couldn't even stand or really walk without assistance.  Fortunately for me, my ever faithful house manager, Violet, was there to help me to the nearby hospital, where I was diagnosed with malaria and typhoid.  For a short period of time I was left alone, because Violet had to go back to the house to get some money.  During that time I was scared, alone, and in a lot of pain, with nothing to do but look at the ceiling.  Even during this time, my thoughts turned to my patients.  I realized this is what they must be feeling on a daily basis.  It was humbling.  As of late, ?I've been way too wrapped up in my own issues and difficulties.  Sometimes, when I'm in the thick of selfishness and self centerness, the Lord allows me to go through potentially dangerous situations far enough to get me humble, but not so far that I would experience the worst possible outcome of said dangerous situation.  I'm praying that one of these days

Wear the Yellow Tee Shirt

So, I have this yellow tee shirt in my closet.  I love it.  It's a little baggy, has some pretty funky designs...just my style.  But...I hardly ever wear it.  Why, you may ask?  I'll tell you...I'm a klutz and am afraid of spilling something on it.  A few weeks ago, I wore the tee shirt, and, lo and behold, I spilled something on it.  But here's the clincher...I washed it, and it became clean!

It made me think of how many times we miss out on incredible things because of what "might" happen.  I know, for me, nine times out of ten what I worry about never happens.  I can honestly say I didn't have any reservations or worries about giving up everything I own and moving to Africa.  Other people did, of course, but I was ready to go.  Now, if I had known then what I know now, things may have been a little different.  But, I thank God for my nativity.  At the end of the day, I love living here.  This is my corner of the world, and where I'm supposed to be.  If I had let the fear of others rule my life and my decisions, I might not have ever come (although God does have a way of making sure His plans are carried out, regardless of circumstance).  When I think of how much I would have missed out on if I had stayed in the states, it makes me shudder.  I would have missed out on learning some of the most important and meaningful lessons of my entire life.  I would have missed knowing some of my most closest friend whom I consider to my my second family.  I would have missed the indescribable experience of growing in God's love, mercy and grace, and sharing His love with others.  I dare say I would have missed the opportunity to find myself, and my place in the world.  Of course, bad things have happened to me.  But, at the end of the day, it doesn't matter.  The experiences I have had and am having every day easily trump any sort of hassles or troubles I might have to deal with.  I wouldn't do anything differently.  Don't be afraid to wear the yellow tee shirt.  Whatever happens, it's worse not to try.