Stories from Sarah

I feel like I constantly find myself entering into new stages of life, and I barely start to adjust to one before it's time to move onto another. This year, all three children are in school full-time. AJ is only 3, but I started her in school thinking that I would be working full-time to help pay for Iddy's school fees next year when he starts his A-levels. As it turns out, I'm not working full-time, but I have been working on and off doing contract work as a medical writer, so it's probably a good thing that she is in school. Sometimes, however, I find myself in between jobs and without much to do during the day. My working schedule is pretty sporadic, so I can't always make plans for this down time. It comes up unexpectedly, and then I wonder what to do with myself. As a person who is driven by goals and productivity and check lists, this kind of time has been a challenge to deal with. Today I met Chris at his office in the morning and worked on some e-mails. I'm thankful that I have this time to spend with Chris, and I'm thankful I can go up to the school if one of the kids needs me for something, and I'm thankful to get to spend some time on myself every once in a while.

I try to get into pedicures and that kind of thing, but that's just not me. After we dropped off all three kids on the first day of school, Chris looked at me sweetly, and with the best intentions he said, "You could go home and watch a show on Netflix!" I broke down and wept. No doubt, I do get pedicures every once in a while, and I certainly enjoy watching a good movie, but I am also the kind of person that needs to DO SOMETHING. Unfortunately, I'm also not the kind of person that generally wants to START SOMETHING. I hop on whatever train is passing by that is going in a good direction, and I take whatever job hasn't been taken, and I do a good job of it. For the past few years, no trains have passed by, so I find myself in the middle of nowhere and no way of getting anywhere. And I feel paralyzed because I now have to choose a direction to go in myself, and I have to find the courage to take that first step. Or should I just sit and hang out here for a while? I need a life coach... ha.

Meanwhile, I am learning some painful lessons in my personal life. I just read a chapter on forgiveness in a book by Jen Hatmaker, and it made me realize some huge things. First of all, I have not been wronged in any big way in my life yet. But what I can relate to is bitterness and resentment. The first time a person entered my life against whom I harbored these feelings, I blamed that person. My thought was, "I don't feel this way about anyone else, so the problem is obviously them, not me." Then person #2 came along and I thought I was unlucky enough to have 2 of these flawed people in my life. As my list has gotten longer and started to include people closer to me, I finally have found the courage to admit to myself that the problem is within me. And the root of the problem is my own expectations. I have realized that the older you get, your own expectations about your life and your people become harder and harder to live up to, for yourself and others. As Jen Hatmaker puts it in her book, it is time for me to bury what I wanted and accept what I have, which is probably way more beautiful anyway. But the burying of what we wanted can be INCREDIBLY difficult. And I know that it will be something that I have to do daily, maybe hourly. But when I have moments of breakthrough, when I truly take my hands off of these man-made dreams, I experience the joy and peace and contentment that Jesus spoke so often about. Dear God, please make me more able to bury my own expectations of the people around me. When I was young my biggest battle was my own lack of confidence, which God turned around, and I remember specifically the day that I felt God gave me a new name, "Confidence." I think the struggle in my "middle" years up until now has been bitterness. That thing where you replay in your head the thing that you hated over and over and over again until you are ready to crucify somebody. But this resentment has become chains around my feet, tying me down to a stone as I try to swim just enough to stay afloat and breathe. I am asking God to come into my life, break that chain and give me a new name. He has done it before, and I believe He can do it again.

In our first year in Kenya, I read a book called "Kisses from Katie", which is a beautiful story of a woman who, at a very young age, decides to take in 14 girls who are without family and homes in Uganda. I loved the book, and I loved the author's passion and courage and vulnerability. Unfortunately, I let her experience become the expectation of my own experience in Kenya. I thought we would be able to help children in the same way she did, and that we would see all the same fruits of our efforts that she did. What I forgot was that my story will never be the same as anyone else's. I forgot to look for the beauty in my own life because I was looking for the beauty she found in hers. I was looking for roses and I missed the beautiful, vibrant sunflowers bowing their brown faces circled in bright yellow petals. She gave kisses to girls that she brought into her house and made her very own, and what have I given? If I left Kenya today, would I leave anything lasting behind? Maybe the stories I have shared will stay in a few memories. When I am asked to speak for a group of women, I usually bring a story to share, because that is what people can remember easily. If I visit a school, I bring a book to read to the children. I have shared all kinds of stories, and I hope that in a culture that greatly values the art of "story-telling" these stories will have some value. But mostly, I have lived out my own story here, and played a part in the stories of the children and adults that have played a part in mine. And I hope that the very small part I have played in some people's stories will make it a little bit happier, even if just for one chapter.

All things to all people

There are things in Africa that will always amaze me. I was driving with Iddy the other day and we passed some women on the road carrying heavy loads on their heads. He asked me if that still impressed me, and I said it did. He told me that on another day he and Chris had seen a woman with a 20L jug of water on her head bend down to pick something up, all the while keeping her load perfectly balanced. Chris remarked at how impressive this was, and Iddy thought it looked perfectly ordinary. I never get tired of seeing all the things people choose to carry on their heads here. Sometimes it's 1L bottle of water, sometimes it's a backpack, sometimes it's bicycle. The head is the default "carrying place." It kind of makes sense when you think about it: all the weight of your body and the load you carry stay centered and your posture remains upright. Then there is the whole "bend at the knees" gospel that we preach in America. They don't preach that gospel here. Bending at the hips is the way to go (unless, of course, you are carrying something on your head!). Whether tying a shoe lace, picking up something you dropped, or planting a garden, the body is always bent at the hip. I love observing all these differences. If life was a meal, these differences are the spices that make it so much more delicious. Everyone is different, and these differences are beautiful, meaningful, interesting, maybe even... necessary.

Some differences are more subtle and go a bit deeper. Consider this common children's song that we often sing:

"Row, row, row your boat
Gently down the stream
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily
Life is but a dream"

My girls sing this version of it which they learned at school:

"Row, row, row your boat
Gently down the stream
If you see a crocodile
Don't forget to scream"

Of course, they love this version because it involves screaming, but it also teaches children a valuable, practical lesson. Crocodiles are dangerous, and you should stay away from them. There are a lot of crocodiles around here. If you see one, you should most definitely scream (and run). We teach "life is but a dream." This is not necessarily bad, but it reveals a difference in perspective.

There's another song that Iddy and Oscar taught me when we lived in Kisumu. These are the words:

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay
It's okay, my dear, it's okay
In the land of paradise where there is no surprise
No sorrows, no worries at all

Dear friend am leaving now
And the train is waiting by
To take me with my body over there
We will meet in paradise where there is no surprise
No sorrows, no worries at all"

I think I have written about this before, but I'm always struck by the fact that paradise is depicted as a place with no surprises. In my American mindset, I generally think of surprises as good, but I can think of many people, both in America and Africa, who would love to live with no more surprises. Don't we all find security in knowing that God is the same yesterday, today, and forever? No surprises! The Kenyans claim this promise for themselves, and we can do that, too. Just as Paul said he became "all things to all people," so our God is the God we need, at all times, and for all people. When I was young I loved this song about heaven:

"Come and go with me to my father's house
Come and go with me to my father's house

It's a big, big house
With lots and lots of rooms
A big, big table
With lots and lots of food
A big, big yard
Where we can play football
A big, big house
It's my father's house"

As I sang this song to my girls last night, their imaginations took off. "What about lots and lots of ice cream?" Abby Jones asked. "What about a big, big espresso machine?" Chris joined in. "How about a big, big playground?" Yes, yes, yes. God is big enough to be who each one of us needs him to be. When I describe God, I don't use the same words (or even the same language) as a Kenyan would, but there is a sense that we are talking about the same thing. It isn't as if I think, "oh no, I don't think God is like that." Instead I think, "oh wow, God can do that, too!" And my picture of God gets bigger and bigger and bigger. It isn't paradoxical, it is perfectly harmonious. He is elegantly simple, but also eternally complex. He is the God that I need, the God that I want, the God that I serve, the God that I love. I know Him so well, yet there is so much about Him I don't know. The more I know of Him, the more I realize I have yet to learn. In a sense, I knew more before I ever started because I didn't know anything about what I didn't know yet (ha... that doesn't really make much sense). The point is, I love adventure, I love learning, I love mystery, and God continues to offer all of these things to me in my life. And for Abby Jones, he created ice cream.