I really appreciated this quote that my sweet friend Emily sent my way from a book she is currently reading:
"Ultimately we are single because that's God's will for us right now. That's it. It's not because we are too old, too fat, too skinny, too tall, too short, too quiet, too loud, too smart, too simple, too demanding, or too anything else. It's not wholly because of past failures or sin tendencies. It's not because we're of one race when many of the men around us are of another. It's not because the men we know lean toward passive temperaments. It's not because there are more women than men in our singles group. It's not because our church doesn't even have a singles group. Though perhaps these all feel like valid reasons, they don't trump God's will. One look at the marriages we know or the announcements in the newspaper will assure us that these factors are present in many people's lives and they still got married. We are single today because God apportioned us this gift today."
- Carolyn McCulley
10.13.2010
10.11.2010
Taking Bets
"All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible. This I did." - T.E. Lawrence
I'd say year 25 was all about crossing a few things off the bucket list and crossing off a few things that were never on the bucket list to begin with. I've been thinking a lot about what has happened in the last year, expected things, unexpected things, but always an adventure. It was all about being a dreamer of the day, acting on dreams with open eyes. This I did.
I've always had it on my bucket list to own a Great Dane. Well, that didn't happen but I did get to meet Tucker the Great Dane. That will have to suffice for now since I don't foresee owning 80 acres anytime soon to accommodate owning such an animal. My dad thinks I should just skip the Great Dane and buy a horse. It's the same thing to him.
And then I got to watch one of my very best friends marry the Future Husband she had written about for years and in the process I got to meet one of my favorite authors at her wedding. It was sweet to watch Erica throughout this process, seeing the crazy days, the good days, and the days when she would e-mail me in a panic about how to insert an anchor JPEG into her invitation. I always love being a part of people's weddings and this was the year for quite a few. I also got to see Steph get married, and numerous other friends have since gotten engaged. I celebrate with them in those moments.
I welcomed a new niece into the world, which wasn't so much on the bucket list (like I have control over that) as it was just a fitting moment in life. I sold some of my paintings (Thank you, Debbie S., for supporting the arts and my then-grocery budget). I read a grand total of 45 books since last October. That's not one of my life's aims, but I started keeping a log a year ago May of every book I have since read and I went over my list last night just to jog my memory on some of my favorites that I had read in the past year. I capped off year 25 by finishing up Susan Casey's The Wave, which was a fantastic read. I am now fascinated by all things surfing. I just have no desire to add to my list "surf the world's biggest wave." But maybe I'll add to the list "sit on the beach in Hawaii and watch someone else surf big waves."
After that was a trip I had dreamed about since I was a kid. Africa. I don't need to elaborate on this one I think since I chronicled so much of that adventure on here. But that trip was so worth it. Even this morning, I woke up missing those kids, in particular, little David. For some reason his sweet face popped into my head and I got a little sad about not being able to see him anytime soon. But I know I'll go back some day. I don't know when that will be, but I'm determined to make it happen.
In between, I finished my MBA. That was one of those things that wasn't on the list. I had no intention of ever going to grad school, but away we went. I got to laughing the other day because I pulled out my notebook where I write down the list of things I want to do in my lifetime. I had on there "graduate from high school" and "graduate from college." Check and check. Just didn't have on there anything about grad school. So that was a bonus for the year.
But I guess I couldn't have picked a better way to end year 25 when my brother told me he bought me tickets to the Ohio State vs. Indiana game this past weekend. I know, I know. I had felt like I was committing some kind of crime by having lived in Ohio all my life and having never been to an OSU game at The 'Shoe. I was waiting for the police to show up on my doorstep. I loved everything about the game, about the traditions, about the stadium, about the Skull session, even the crazy Indiana fan sitting next to us who I thought was going to burst a blood vessel. To top it off, it was Jim Tressel's 100th win. (Thank you, South Carolina, for bringing down Alabama - that certainly helped to catapult OSU to #1 in the country.)
So, yeah, year 25 was pretty great. But I'm taking bets that year 26 will be better. God has shown him faithful in numerous ways, both big and small. And it's not to say that the best years are always sunshine and roses, for they are surely tempered with a few storms. But I don't ever want to be the kind of person that says the best years of my life are behind me. I think I'll tackle "own a hammock" and "spend a week or two on a dude ranch" for this year. And who knows what will be unexpectedly added to the list.
10.03.2010
Why Can't They Last?
There are some stories I don't ever want to end. I felt that way about Lord of the Rings. I felt that way about A Severe Mercy and Seabiscuit. I almost felt that way about the Twilight Saga until one of the characters started drinking blood to keep her half-vampire baby alive in her womb. In fact, I get rather annoyed when some of my favorite stories end. There's just such a sense of let-down. I feel this sense of dread as I near the final page because I know it's all about to be over and I can't do a thing about it. Most of the stories that I feel this way about are the ones that are so epic in nature - the ones that captive both the mind and the heart, the ones that elevate you beyond where you presently are.
I just put down Secretariat: The Making of a Champion by William Nack and I nearly wanted to cry when I finished it because it's just such a beautiful and inspiring story and I was so sad it came to a close. I know, I know. It's just a horse. I get it. Just like the Michigan-Ohio State game is just another football game and Mother Theresa is just another woman. But to anybody who watches that kind of history unfold knows it's never just another horse race and it's never just another horse. I wanted to stand up and cheer just reading the darn thing. I wanted to yell along with everyone else when Secretariat set blistering records in each of his Triple Crown races. I mean, good grief, the horse ran each eighth of the Kentucky Derby successively faster and faster, which is just mind boggling because the times should get successively slower, not faster. He won the Belmont by a stunning 31 lengths. The horse was a maniac.
When he died - 21 years ago tomorrow - they did an autopsy on him and found that his heart was twice as big as a normal thoroughbred, which meant he could pump far more oxygen into his bloodstream, giving him a competitive edge that other breeders could only dream of developing in their horses. His offspring weren't much to brag about, with only a few garnering serious accolades - none would come close to accomplishing what their daddy had.
But I guess the really great stories have to come to an end sometime. At least until another comes along.
"Do you give the horse his strength or clothe his neck with a flowing mane? Do you make him leap like a locust, striking terror with his proud snorting? He paws fiercely, rejoicing in his strength, and charges into the fray. He laughs at fear, afraid of nothing; he does not shy away from the sword. The quiver rattles against his side, along with the flashing spear and lance. In frenzied excitement he eats up the ground; he cannot stand still when the trumpet sounds. At the blast of the trumpet he snorts, 'Aha!' He catches the scent of battle from afar, the shout of commanders and the battle cry."
- portion of Job 39
I just put down Secretariat: The Making of a Champion by William Nack and I nearly wanted to cry when I finished it because it's just such a beautiful and inspiring story and I was so sad it came to a close. I know, I know. It's just a horse. I get it. Just like the Michigan-Ohio State game is just another football game and Mother Theresa is just another woman. But to anybody who watches that kind of history unfold knows it's never just another horse race and it's never just another horse. I wanted to stand up and cheer just reading the darn thing. I wanted to yell along with everyone else when Secretariat set blistering records in each of his Triple Crown races. I mean, good grief, the horse ran each eighth of the Kentucky Derby successively faster and faster, which is just mind boggling because the times should get successively slower, not faster. He won the Belmont by a stunning 31 lengths. The horse was a maniac.
When he died - 21 years ago tomorrow - they did an autopsy on him and found that his heart was twice as big as a normal thoroughbred, which meant he could pump far more oxygen into his bloodstream, giving him a competitive edge that other breeders could only dream of developing in their horses. His offspring weren't much to brag about, with only a few garnering serious accolades - none would come close to accomplishing what their daddy had.
But I guess the really great stories have to come to an end sometime. At least until another comes along.
"Do you give the horse his strength or clothe his neck with a flowing mane? Do you make him leap like a locust, striking terror with his proud snorting? He paws fiercely, rejoicing in his strength, and charges into the fray. He laughs at fear, afraid of nothing; he does not shy away from the sword. The quiver rattles against his side, along with the flashing spear and lance. In frenzied excitement he eats up the ground; he cannot stand still when the trumpet sounds. At the blast of the trumpet he snorts, 'Aha!' He catches the scent of battle from afar, the shout of commanders and the battle cry."
- portion of Job 39
9.27.2010
Oh, Charlie Brown...
I'm particularly fond of two classic cartoons: Garfield and Peanuts. I feel like most of the things that come out of Garfield's mouth are usually things I have said or thought at one point another. Not that that is a good or bad thing, but rather just a reflection of personalities. But I felt yesterday's Peanuts was very appropriate for my recent train of thought about living life intentionally. It seems I have had several people cross my path in recent weeks, mentioning other people in their life who have lost all sense of purpose or pursuit of the world around them. And sometimes I wonder if maybe if I shouldn't just hand people comic strips when I feel compelled to impart important life lessons to them. Maybe that would soften the blow some?
Oh, how the words of wisdom ring true. Thank you, Peanuts.
9.26.2010
Magic in an Ordinary Life
But I think the book that has been most compelling for me as of late has been Shackleton's South. I had been talking to my friend Jonathan about our latest reads and I had mentioned I wanted to get my hands on some books about Shackleton's expedition to the South Pole. He was sweet enough to pick up a copy of Shackleton's memoir for me at a half-priced book store and I've been reading it ever since. If you're not familiar (like I was prior to reading this book) with Shackleton's adventures or his life, you can read the cliff-notes at Wikipedia. The short version of the story is that Shackleton set out on the dawn of WWI to cross the Antarctic from sea to sea, but his ship Endurance was eventually crushed between some ice floes and him and all of his men were stranded on ice floes for months at a time. They all eventually - despite some of the worst weather conditions known to man and some of the severest trials - make it back to civilization alive. Meanwhile almost all of World War I had happened without their knowledge. Once Shackleton reached a whaling station in South Georgia and attemps to rescue the remaing men left behind in his party, he writes:
We were like mad men arisen from the dead to a world gone mad. Our minds accustomed themselves gradually to the tales of nations in arms, of deathless courage and unimagined slaughter, of a world-conflict that had grown beyond all conceptions, of vast red battlefields in grimmest contrast with the frigid whiteness we had left behind us. The reader may not realize quite how difficult it was for us to envisage nearly two years of the most stupendous war in history....No other civilized men could have been as blankly ignorant of world-shaking happenings as we were...
But you know what really has me so captivated by Shackleton's story? I think it's something that I've been thinking about for a long time, years maybe, off and on - this idea of the ordinary life. This idea that even in the most obscure and mundane and monotonous life, there's something worth telling, a life worth living. I think I went through this phase in college where I told myself if I didn't achieve x, y, and z, I was going to be a failure in life. I was so driven by this idea that everything had to be a grand adventure. And then I realized that even in a so-called common and ordinary life, I could still have a great adventure. Now, not to say that Shackleton and his men were exactly living ordinary lives, but to them they were. They were doing what their hearts had been set on and that was common for them. It was their lives to be men of the sea and to suffer through freezing cold temperatures. Shackleton would often mention times though when the ship would be stuck in a floe for a few days, the men would get out on the ice and play football. One part of me wants to say, "You're out in the middle of the stinkin' Antarctic freezing your fannies off, and you're playing football?!"
But this was life for them, a common, ordinary life. Shortly after the Endurance sank and the crew was facing a bleak outlook, Shackleton wrote about how some of the men were telling the cook how they wanted their tea made. "It occurred to me at the time that the incident had psychological interest. Here were men, their home crushed, the camp pitched on the unstable floes, and their chance of reaching safety apparently remote, calmly attending to the details of existence and giving their attention to such trifles as the strength of a brew of tea."
An extraordinary life being played out in ordinary ways. And as I drove to work the other morning, thinking about the story and just life in general, all I could come up with is that there is magic in an ordinary life well-lived. It reminds me of Chesterton's (I think he said it anyway) quote when he says "one of the most extraordinary things in life is an ordinary man, his ordinary wife, and their ordinary children."
I think sometimes it's easy to get down and out about our "ordinary" lives, when we feel like all we do is punch the clock and do it all over again the next day. But it's a matter of perspective. If that's how we choose to view our lives, then yes, that's all it will be. But if we choose to see our lives - common or otherwise - as as adventure, an opportunity, then even the simplest tasks are things to be valued. I'd like to think I've been on my fair share of adventures, but I'd also like to think I can find magic in living that ordinary life.
9.19.2010
Satisfaction
I've been running into all sort of friends and family members since I've been home from Africa. Saw some at a local festival. Saw them at church. Saw them at family get-togethers. And the question is always the same.
"Sooooooooo....how was Africa?"
I honestly think I'm a little baffled by the question sometimes, not because it's necessarily a bad question, but more because sometimes I don't know just how much of an honest answer to give.
Do I say, "Well, it was a really great trip. Can't wait to go back"?
Do I say, "Oh, the safari was fantastic and the children are wonderful. Just so adorable!"?
Do I say, "It was the trip of a lifetime and I'm so thankful I was able to go"?
Those are all good and sufficient answers I suppose on some level, but I always feel this need to pull people in close (I never actually do) and look them right in the eye and really tell how Africa was.
I want to tell them about the overwhelming sense of satisfaction I feel when I think about my time there. Not in a that-was-a-great-meal-I'm-so-satisfied kind of way, but a deep-in-your-gut, terribly profound sense of joy, satisfaction, and fulfillment. I want to tell them what a rich and rewarding experience it was to not only labor alongside the Kenyans, but to play alongside the Kenyans, to see their country, to see their animals, to see their cities, to love on their children. I want to tell people how fulfilling it felt to do something, to physically get work done and fall into bed at night and to feel like you had been productive. In times past when I had been doing ministry overseas, the focus was so much on evangelism, which is great and has a place in God's plan, but this time around I just loved the fact that I worked. That I was literally being the hands and feet of Jesus in practical day-to-day ways.
I miss Kenya on a frequent basis. I do things like watch Invictus or flip through my photos or try to catch the latest online news out of Africa, just to momentarily have the satisfaction of feeling like I'm maintaining some kind of connection. Maybe it's time to start planning the return trip? Who wants to go? :)
"Sooooooooo....how was Africa?"
I honestly think I'm a little baffled by the question sometimes, not because it's necessarily a bad question, but more because sometimes I don't know just how much of an honest answer to give.
Do I say, "Well, it was a really great trip. Can't wait to go back"?
Do I say, "Oh, the safari was fantastic and the children are wonderful. Just so adorable!"?
Do I say, "It was the trip of a lifetime and I'm so thankful I was able to go"?
Those are all good and sufficient answers I suppose on some level, but I always feel this need to pull people in close (I never actually do) and look them right in the eye and really tell how Africa was.
I want to tell them about the overwhelming sense of satisfaction I feel when I think about my time there. Not in a that-was-a-great-meal-I'm-so-satisfied kind of way, but a deep-in-your-gut, terribly profound sense of joy, satisfaction, and fulfillment. I want to tell them what a rich and rewarding experience it was to not only labor alongside the Kenyans, but to play alongside the Kenyans, to see their country, to see their animals, to see their cities, to love on their children. I want to tell people how fulfilling it felt to do something, to physically get work done and fall into bed at night and to feel like you had been productive. In times past when I had been doing ministry overseas, the focus was so much on evangelism, which is great and has a place in God's plan, but this time around I just loved the fact that I worked. That I was literally being the hands and feet of Jesus in practical day-to-day ways.
I miss Kenya on a frequent basis. I do things like watch Invictus or flip through my photos or try to catch the latest online news out of Africa, just to momentarily have the satisfaction of feeling like I'm maintaining some kind of connection. Maybe it's time to start planning the return trip? Who wants to go? :)
9.08.2010
"I'm Courtney and I don't have a ten-year plan..."
What I think I look forward to more than anything in this transition back to life in Ohio is this time spent every Tuesday with women in this small group and then Wednesday nights with a mixed age/gender/marital status group that builds on the pastor's Sunday teachings. I think a vast majority of people in my generation miss out on the value of multi-generational groups. We always want to be with people our own age because that's safe, but people our own age haven't lived life any further than we have most of the time. Not say that our own peer groups aren't vital - they certainly are. But they come with different advantages and viewpoints than of those who have a few more adventures and experiences under their belts. There's something to be said for spending time with people who have been down the road, miles ahead of you, and who typically know way more than you do. That was one of the greatest gifts for me in college and the years since was to be mentored by someone older than me, to spend time listening to her words of wisdom.
My dear friend, Myrt, pulled me aside last night and said she didn't want me to feel like she had railroaded me into coming to her small group, thinking that maybe I would like to be around people my own age. Myrt is maybe in her 80s and is one of the neatest people I know, but I looked at her and said, "Myrt, the last thing I need is a singles group or a young adult group. I've had enough of those in my lifetime." I'm not anti-twenty-somethings, I think I've just spent my life gravitating toward older people. Maybe they have more stories to tell and maybe they know how to tell them better? I don't rightly know.
But there's always that moment when I feel a little out of sorts at introductions for small groups, regardless of age. Women inevitably introduce themselves according to their marital status and the number of children they have. "My name is Susy Q and I'm married with 3 kids." Nobody go up in arms - I'm not saying that being defined by your husband and children is a bad thing, but I always feel this need to spice up introductions and somehow say something like, "I'm Courtney, and I don't have a ten-year plan and kids scare the living daylights out of me." I don't think I'm brave enough to try such an introduction yet, though.
Maybe someday I'll get the gumption.
9.01.2010
The Lion King
I was already missing Kenya and so I figured watching The Lion King might help. So I nestled into the couch and enjoyed seeing the animated versions of all the animals I had seen in real life, still wishing I was seeing the real thing, though. Little did I know, however, that when my nephew came over to visit and wanted to watch a movie that, of all the countless movies we have in our house, he picks The Lion King. So I watch it for the second time in one day.
And then I remembered I never showed you my photographs of the male lion I saw on safari. Truly, the lion king.
And then I remembered I never showed you my photographs of the male lion I saw on safari. Truly, the lion king.
Wait for it...
Let him have his beauty rest...
Now he's posing for the others...
And there you have it...
Love it.
8.30.2010
The Other Side of My Dreams
I started the journey home on Saturday afternoon at 2:30 and made it back on Sunday afternoon at 2:00, and there were a lot of emotions and stops in between. I didn't have anybody mixing her cheesecake with her roast beef on the plane ride, but I'm pretty sure I looked at the lady in the shop in the airport like she had three heads, much like I did with my former seatmate. I was killing time waiting for my flight in Nairobi so I stopped in one of the shops to get some water and see if maybe there were any last minute souvenirs. I grabbed a bottled water and happened to see some bookmarks off to the side that had photos of some of the wildlife in Kenya with "Kenya" written in big bold letters across the top. "These should be simple enough," I thought, something I could give to a few people as small mementos. I go up to the counter, tell the lady I'm paying shillings since I still had some left and she told me it would 1,050 shillings for two bookmarks and a bottled water.
"Excuse me, how much?"
"1,050 shillings."
I'm kind of screeching at her at this point, "For what? How much is the water and how much are the bookmarks?"
"Fifty for the water and 500 shillings for each of the bookmarks."
I think my jaw dropped at this point and I must have looked at her like she was mad. The exchange rate is right around 80 shillings for one US dollar. So the water was costing me less than a dollar, but a flimsy bookmark that should really cost no more than 75 cents was costing me over $6?! I nearly told her that was crazy, but instead simply said no thanks, got my water, and kept my shillings.
I said good riddance to ridiculous airport prices, I enjoyed my water and then hopped on my flight to Ethiopia. Once there, we made our way to Rome, then to D.C. and finally to Columbus. It was hard saying goodbye to Kenya, hard saying goodbye to the children. I was doing so well holding it together until David come out to give me a hug and when he turned around and left to go back to his room, one of his brothers came out and said, "David's crying." Gee, kid, thanks for breaking for my heart and making this even harder by telling me that little fact. I managed to hold it together long enough to tell them all goodbye and then I just cried my eyes out walking back to the guest house. Some of them had given me notes, thanking me for coming, saying they'll miss me. I'll treasure those notes always.
Since being home, I feel like I have wanted to eat everything in sight and nearly have. Hawaiian pizza has never tasted so amazing and neither has apple pie, nor the spiced pumpkin cookies, nor one of my mother's milkshakes. My body is probably going to hate me after having lived on beans, rice, and ugali for the last month. There's a lot I'll miss about Kenya, those three things not among them, though. I know God has a sense of humor, though, when I sat down to have my last meal with the kids. I thought I had eaten beans for the final time on Thursday for dinner. But then I sat down Saturday for lunch and saw that it was beans again. "You would do something like this, wouldn't you, God? You're soooo funny." I had a good laugh and still managed to eat my meal.
I'm sure in the coming weeks and months I'll continue to unpack exactly what this trip meant to me and in the context of my life. I think it has lifelong ramifications and implications, ones I may not see for years to come. And I suppose it would be fitting to end this particular portion of the adventure by going back to a starting point - my paper in 7th grade. Seems a little different now that I'm on the other side of my dream, doesn't it?
"I would definitely visit the exciting country of Kenya, Africa. To me, the animals and wildlife that live in Africa are fascinating. I would probably take an exciting safari trip! I could even take a few pictures of the herds of animals.
It sounds really exciting! After that I would tour the country to see what the region is like. I would visit the villages and cities to see the different customs and cultures that they have. Maybe I could learn to speak their language. Meeting the people of Kenya would be a special experience!!
It would be interesting to see how different Kenya is from the United States. Learning about the government, people, animals and farming of Kenya would broaden my horizons. The continent of Africa, in general, entices me. The animals and wildlife would have to be my main purpose to go to Kenya, Africa. This country seems to be very impressive.
That is why I want to visit this country so badly."
I like being on the other side of my dreams. But there are many more dreams left and hopefully I'll get to see the other side of those, as well.
"Excuse me, how much?"
"1,050 shillings."
I'm kind of screeching at her at this point, "For what? How much is the water and how much are the bookmarks?"
"Fifty for the water and 500 shillings for each of the bookmarks."
I think my jaw dropped at this point and I must have looked at her like she was mad. The exchange rate is right around 80 shillings for one US dollar. So the water was costing me less than a dollar, but a flimsy bookmark that should really cost no more than 75 cents was costing me over $6?! I nearly told her that was crazy, but instead simply said no thanks, got my water, and kept my shillings.
I said good riddance to ridiculous airport prices, I enjoyed my water and then hopped on my flight to Ethiopia. Once there, we made our way to Rome, then to D.C. and finally to Columbus. It was hard saying goodbye to Kenya, hard saying goodbye to the children. I was doing so well holding it together until David come out to give me a hug and when he turned around and left to go back to his room, one of his brothers came out and said, "David's crying." Gee, kid, thanks for breaking for my heart and making this even harder by telling me that little fact. I managed to hold it together long enough to tell them all goodbye and then I just cried my eyes out walking back to the guest house. Some of them had given me notes, thanking me for coming, saying they'll miss me. I'll treasure those notes always.
Since being home, I feel like I have wanted to eat everything in sight and nearly have. Hawaiian pizza has never tasted so amazing and neither has apple pie, nor the spiced pumpkin cookies, nor one of my mother's milkshakes. My body is probably going to hate me after having lived on beans, rice, and ugali for the last month. There's a lot I'll miss about Kenya, those three things not among them, though. I know God has a sense of humor, though, when I sat down to have my last meal with the kids. I thought I had eaten beans for the final time on Thursday for dinner. But then I sat down Saturday for lunch and saw that it was beans again. "You would do something like this, wouldn't you, God? You're soooo funny." I had a good laugh and still managed to eat my meal.
I'm sure in the coming weeks and months I'll continue to unpack exactly what this trip meant to me and in the context of my life. I think it has lifelong ramifications and implications, ones I may not see for years to come. And I suppose it would be fitting to end this particular portion of the adventure by going back to a starting point - my paper in 7th grade. Seems a little different now that I'm on the other side of my dream, doesn't it?
"I would definitely visit the exciting country of Kenya, Africa. To me, the animals and wildlife that live in Africa are fascinating. I would probably take an exciting safari trip! I could even take a few pictures of the herds of animals.
It sounds really exciting! After that I would tour the country to see what the region is like. I would visit the villages and cities to see the different customs and cultures that they have. Maybe I could learn to speak their language. Meeting the people of Kenya would be a special experience!!
It would be interesting to see how different Kenya is from the United States. Learning about the government, people, animals and farming of Kenya would broaden my horizons. The continent of Africa, in general, entices me. The animals and wildlife would have to be my main purpose to go to Kenya, Africa. This country seems to be very impressive.
That is why I want to visit this country so badly."
I like being on the other side of my dreams. But there are many more dreams left and hopefully I'll get to see the other side of those, as well.
8.27.2010
"I'd Like to Thank the Academy..."
I feel like I'm about to get up on stage and say, "I'd like to thank the Academy and all of the little people who helped me get where I am today." If I were saying the following in person, I'd probably be crying but since it's not, you'll be spared my tears and I won't be embarrassed .
In less than 24 hours, I'll be on a plane out of Kenya. I'll say my goodbyes to the children and the staff, gather my things, and head home. I'm anxious to get home - probably more so than ever before - but it will be sad to leave, too. I was just thinking last night about how maybe I've said one too many goodbyes in my lifetime, especially in the last 7 years - it has become such a common part of my life that it's like second nature. But it won't change the fact that my heart will still be sad. I don't know that I can adequately convey what a rich and rewarding time this has been for me, in so many different ways. I could go on and on about the blessings I have received while here.
But what I really want to take the time to say right now is "thank you." Thanks for reading, thanks for "virtually" coming along with me on this trip, thanks for commenting, thanks for laughing and crying along with me. This blog has been an unexpected blessing - it's not only afforded me the chance to write, which I love doing, but it's afforded me the opportunity to share stories, to share photos, to share life with others who cannot be here with me.
I won't have the space nor the time to adequately and sufficiently outline every single person that has had a hand in this trip. You would get tired of reading after awhile. So I'm writing to say thanks with broad strokes, but I'm trying to avoid saying "and I'd like to thank every person I have ever met," which just sounds insincere and lame.
To my family at First Baptist Church in Fulton - Ed, Debbie, Pastor Gary and Kristin, the Missions Committee, those were at my prayer send-off, and so many others. You helped make a dream come true. I have spent nearly 7 years with you and you have welcomed with open arms, whether I was coming or going. I would never be able to fully express what a gift you have been to me. The countless college lunches, the prayers that you covered me with, the financial support for this trip, the time spent investing in my life, challenging me, supporting me, loving me. You truly are the body of Christ in action. Whatever thanks I have to say will always fall short.
To my new Rafiki family here in Kenya - Yeen-Lan, Patty, Catherine, Stephen, Peter, the Aunties and Mamas, the other ROS, and national staff. What gems you have been to me. I think short-term volunteers come here thinking they will be a blessing, but it us in fact who have been blessed. My life is richer because of the opportunity to have labored alongside you. It has been satisfying work, rewarding work. Thank you for encouraging me and being such faithful followers of Christ and for so obediently serving Him.
And here's the part where I would probably start crying so hard that I wouldn't be able to get the words out and the stage director would say it's time for a commercial and would cue the orchestra so that I would get off the stage faster.
Mom and Dad - I know I said most of this in the letter I left you, but I want to say it publicly because you need to know that your support has mattered a great deal to me. Being a parent is a thankless job, and your children often forget that you have emotions and fears as well. I know you have had to battle many of those fears through this process - it was hard enough to send me to Missouri, to San Diego, to Russia, to North Carolina, then back to Missouri, and a few other places in between. Then I decided to come to Africa and I'm sure the fears roared. But I'll never be able to sufficiently tell you how grateful I am to have the kind of parents who said "go" even though I know you desperately wanted to say "stay" (which you certainly did say on several occasions, but also had enough sense to know I'd be going anyway). :) Thanks for giving me the chance to take flight when you would have liked to have clipped my wings, even if for my own protection and your peace of mind. You have done well and I'm honored to call you my Mom and Dad.
Jeremy, Josh, Grace, Julie, Grandma, MawMaw, and the rest of the clan, whom I dearly love - you can't be replaced. Thanks for keeping in touch even when I'm galavanting all over the place. Thanks for loving me even when it seems I spend more time apart from you than with you. I'm hoping my time apart from you becomes few and far between in the coming years. I'm tired of always being gone from you all.
I know there are plenty of other people I could thank who have been a part of this trip in both big and small ways, and I write these knowing I'm just grazing the surface - I'm not intentionally trying to leave anyone out so don't take offense. Stephanie and Zach, thanks for your financial support. Em, thanks for dreaming alongside me and going to training with me even though it didn't work out for you to likewise come to Africa this summer. I know your Africa will someday become a reality, too. Alex, you are a priceless gem. I'm glad you were in Germany the same time I was here just for the sheer fact that even though we were thousands of miles apart, we'll share in the experience of being abroad. I'll think of you tomorrow when I have to become a Girl Scout again to navigate the airports. Kristen, Erica, Venita, Travis, Student Life Staff, and so many other friends and former co-workers - thanks for your prayers and e-mails of encouragement.
I know, my words aren't enough. And the music is playing telling me I need to get off stage. Thank you, Father, for truly I would not have missed this for the world.
In less than 24 hours, I'll be on a plane out of Kenya. I'll say my goodbyes to the children and the staff, gather my things, and head home. I'm anxious to get home - probably more so than ever before - but it will be sad to leave, too. I was just thinking last night about how maybe I've said one too many goodbyes in my lifetime, especially in the last 7 years - it has become such a common part of my life that it's like second nature. But it won't change the fact that my heart will still be sad. I don't know that I can adequately convey what a rich and rewarding time this has been for me, in so many different ways. I could go on and on about the blessings I have received while here.
But what I really want to take the time to say right now is "thank you." Thanks for reading, thanks for "virtually" coming along with me on this trip, thanks for commenting, thanks for laughing and crying along with me. This blog has been an unexpected blessing - it's not only afforded me the chance to write, which I love doing, but it's afforded me the opportunity to share stories, to share photos, to share life with others who cannot be here with me.
I won't have the space nor the time to adequately and sufficiently outline every single person that has had a hand in this trip. You would get tired of reading after awhile. So I'm writing to say thanks with broad strokes, but I'm trying to avoid saying "and I'd like to thank every person I have ever met," which just sounds insincere and lame.
To my family at First Baptist Church in Fulton - Ed, Debbie, Pastor Gary and Kristin, the Missions Committee, those were at my prayer send-off, and so many others. You helped make a dream come true. I have spent nearly 7 years with you and you have welcomed with open arms, whether I was coming or going. I would never be able to fully express what a gift you have been to me. The countless college lunches, the prayers that you covered me with, the financial support for this trip, the time spent investing in my life, challenging me, supporting me, loving me. You truly are the body of Christ in action. Whatever thanks I have to say will always fall short.
To my new Rafiki family here in Kenya - Yeen-Lan, Patty, Catherine, Stephen, Peter, the Aunties and Mamas, the other ROS, and national staff. What gems you have been to me. I think short-term volunteers come here thinking they will be a blessing, but it us in fact who have been blessed. My life is richer because of the opportunity to have labored alongside you. It has been satisfying work, rewarding work. Thank you for encouraging me and being such faithful followers of Christ and for so obediently serving Him.
And here's the part where I would probably start crying so hard that I wouldn't be able to get the words out and the stage director would say it's time for a commercial and would cue the orchestra so that I would get off the stage faster.
Mom and Dad - I know I said most of this in the letter I left you, but I want to say it publicly because you need to know that your support has mattered a great deal to me. Being a parent is a thankless job, and your children often forget that you have emotions and fears as well. I know you have had to battle many of those fears through this process - it was hard enough to send me to Missouri, to San Diego, to Russia, to North Carolina, then back to Missouri, and a few other places in between. Then I decided to come to Africa and I'm sure the fears roared. But I'll never be able to sufficiently tell you how grateful I am to have the kind of parents who said "go" even though I know you desperately wanted to say "stay" (which you certainly did say on several occasions, but also had enough sense to know I'd be going anyway). :) Thanks for giving me the chance to take flight when you would have liked to have clipped my wings, even if for my own protection and your peace of mind. You have done well and I'm honored to call you my Mom and Dad.
Jeremy, Josh, Grace, Julie, Grandma, MawMaw, and the rest of the clan, whom I dearly love - you can't be replaced. Thanks for keeping in touch even when I'm galavanting all over the place. Thanks for loving me even when it seems I spend more time apart from you than with you. I'm hoping my time apart from you becomes few and far between in the coming years. I'm tired of always being gone from you all.
I know there are plenty of other people I could thank who have been a part of this trip in both big and small ways, and I write these knowing I'm just grazing the surface - I'm not intentionally trying to leave anyone out so don't take offense. Stephanie and Zach, thanks for your financial support. Em, thanks for dreaming alongside me and going to training with me even though it didn't work out for you to likewise come to Africa this summer. I know your Africa will someday become a reality, too. Alex, you are a priceless gem. I'm glad you were in Germany the same time I was here just for the sheer fact that even though we were thousands of miles apart, we'll share in the experience of being abroad. I'll think of you tomorrow when I have to become a Girl Scout again to navigate the airports. Kristen, Erica, Venita, Travis, Student Life Staff, and so many other friends and former co-workers - thanks for your prayers and e-mails of encouragement.
I know, my words aren't enough. And the music is playing telling me I need to get off stage. Thank you, Father, for truly I would not have missed this for the world.
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