Born Free

Sometimes it's no wonder that missionaries end up a little awkward after enduring so many awkward moments in this life uncommon.  But I really do love how my own quirks jive so (seemingly) well in Kenyan culture.  For instance, I will never be accused of being type A but that's okay here.  Because if I make plans, things fall apart.  If I just roll with it as it happens, my creativity breathes and things tend to happen that we never expected but are grateful for by the end of the day.  I deeply love that aspect of our life in Kenya. 

Last week we were honored guests (read: token white people) at a passing out party. What the heck is a passing out party you ask? It is when a boy goes through initiation rites and passes out of childhood and into young manhood and then he comes back home for a celebration.   There was a party tent and a sound system and we were asked to make several speeches.  Fortunately for us, our kids love to hear themselves on a microphone and they even sang 2 solos as part of the circus act (Please consider paying for their therapy when we reintegrate into mainstream society).  If you know the Man-Cub, you may have guessed that he sang his favorite song "Go Tell it on the Mountain".  But the Little Miss, she sings her own music. 

Today Little Miss has left "free" and graduated to four.  She can actually pronounce "three" now that it comes to a close all too soon.  But she will always be free.  Her spirit is singing her own song- passionate- imaginative- and free as the wind blows.  She loves the original Elsa- the lioness that was "Born Free".  

Four years ago Little Miss was born as the darkest night in some 600 years ended and turned into light.  It was a full moon that was totally eclipsed on the winter solstice.  And she tore into this world like a rocket ablaze with love and joy and strong feelings whichever way they go. Never did a baby scream as loud as that child on the beautiful marvelous night she was born.  I remember how strangely empty inside I felt after her entry into the world.  Though I held her in my arms it was already an act of separation.  She came as a gift that I couldn't keep to myself.  

A wise person once said that we know God best in our missing Him.  

Beautiful, surprising, passionate zeal for life.  She has helped us to know God better from day one.

 

Advent

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I usually do my best thinking on scraps of worthless paper.  This faded folded piece of red construction paper was tucked in my purse one day a while back when I was taking a lady to the hospital.  Jotting down my observations back then, this is what I pull out today:

A 2^nd hand McDonalds uniform shirt delights and even entices me in the emergency room (called “casualty” here).  A Maasai woman in spectacular bling bling of beads and shiny silver on age old stretched out ear lobes, shaven head, black wrinkled skin like tar-pits swallowing an old dinosaur.  Who will save us from this body of death?

Crowded, quiet, curious, stares at the white lady.  Yes, even I have a body of death too.  We are bound by corruption inherited through our cells and genes and traditions and systemic oppressions. 

Daktari has been blazing bright in his work.  He is alone now.  And the suffering of his patients day after day after day has taken a toll.  He calls them the 20-20-20 club.  The 20 yr old woman with a CD-4 count of 20 (advanced AIDS) and she is typically 20 weeks pregnant: they come in frequently and do poorly.

Who will save us from this soul crushing fatalism that is life in Africa?

Mama said there’d be days like this.

And even Jesus said in this world we’d have trouble.  But here’s one thing that’s True too:  He will never leave us.  So we don’t give up on Him.

Now you know how to pray for us I hope.   I promise to be more merry and bright in the next post.  Watch for it.  Wait for it.  Don’t give up on me either.