Dreaming again

Shortly after arriving for my second stay at the Tania Centre in 2014, I began second-guessing what I was doing here and if God could really use me in Kenya.  I felt ill-equipped to make a positive difference in the lives of these people.  But then I was reminded by a good friend that being the presence of God to these kids was more than enough.

This week, as I arrived for my three-year stay at the Tania Centre, I was again met with a feeling of inadequacy.  As I've gotten re-aquainted with the staff and listened to what's been happening lately at the Centre, I've been hearing about big, God-sized dreams for these children and this Centre.  Dreams that they want me to be a part of and help orchestrate.  Dreams that, again, I feel ill-equipped to help realize.

But, this year, feeling too small for the dream only excites me.  I was too small for my own dream, but I'm typing this from the porch of the office at the Tania Centre, 3-year work permit in hand, watching the dust rise from Ole Teeka Road after a rare car drove past.  Because my God was not too small for this dream.  I walked up to the school and saw cows grazing on the playground, hugged children who I love and who love me, because my God was not too small for this dream.  And I have no doubt that he won't be too small for the dreams we're dreaming for these next three years at the Tania Centre.

I invite you to come alongside us and dream with us for these next three years and beyond.  Follow my blog, sign up for my newsletter, and/or join my financial support team.  I can't wait to see how these dreams God is planting here at the Tania Centre begin to grow over the next three years.

"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God, who is sending a love letter to the world"  --Mother Teresa

Plans

I'm at the age where I hear some of my friends talking about their five-year plans from time to time.  I've never attempted to make a five-year plan for myself, but I have a feeling it might only vaguely reflect my actual life during those five years.  Very few things about my life today look how I would have expected them to had I been planning this five years ago.

I never would have planned to quit a successful, comfortable job after seven years.

I never would have planned to uproot my life just as everyone around me is settling down.

I never would have planned to spend 6 months living in limbo between my Virginia life and my Kenya life in someone else's basement.

I never would have planned to move nearly 8,000 miles from almost everyone I love.

I never would have planned to miss three years of Christmases with my family.

I never would have planned to miss the birth of my nephew.

I never would have planned for the emotional roller coaster caused by such a life change.

I never would have planned to say so many goodbyes.

But, I never could have planned for the outpouring of love and generosity that I've seen this past year.

I never could have planned for the fulfillment I feel as I follow this path.

I never could have planned for the indescribable peace I feel even through the emotional ups and downs.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future."  (Jeremiah 29:11, NIV)

Deciding to follow Jesus means that, sometimes, my plans don't work out.  Thank God.

"This is the good life

I lost everything I could ever want, ever dream of

This is the good life

I found everything I could ever need, here in Your arms"

Waiting

Abraham and Sarah were seventy-five years old when God first promised them a son.  They waited and waited, and finally, 25 years later, God's promise was fulfilled.

Noah waited for 40 days on the ark for the rain to stop.

Moses waited for 40 years in the desert to return to Egypt to free his people.

God's people waited for 40 years to enter the promised land.

Jesus waited for 30 years to start his ministry.

And Jesus waited for 3 days to rise back to life.

There is lots of waiting in the Bible after God makes promises.  I knew there would be periods of waiting after God first promised to bring me back to Kenya long-term.  I waited 4 years from when I first felt called until God gave me a clearer calling that I could act on.  And I've been waiting for over a year since that specific call to go back.

And that's still what I'm doing, is waiting.  When I think about how long some of those people in the Bible had to wait for God to fulfill his promises, the idea of waiting another couple of months before I can move to Kenya doesn't seem so bad at all.  Things are slowly coming together to get me there, and I have seen God faithful in our planning until now, so I have no doubts that he will continue to be faithful.

I hope to have news soon about a definite departure date and specific fundraising information, but for now, I appreciate your continued prayers for my preparations, especially that all the final details would come together in a timely fashion.  It's awesome to have such a supportive team, even in these periods of waiting.

FAQs

As I prepare for my big move, I'm finding that many of the questions I'm fielding pop up again and again.  So, I asked my Facebook friends to give me their questions, and I picked the top 10 most commonly asked to answer here:

1.)  When do you leave?
First, if I had a nickel for every time I've been asked this question, I think I could have paid for my plane ticket by now.  Maybe I should start charging people who ask ;-)
Short answer:  I don't know, but hopefully September.
Long answer:  I'm waiting on my work permit from Kenyan immigration before I can go over.  I heard from the Tania Centre a few weeks ago that immigration told them my work permit would be ready in a month, but that's a month in Kenyan time, which is usually more like 2 or 3 months in American time.  Believe me, when I have a departure date, I'll be too excited to keep it to myself!  You'll know!

2.)  How long will you be there?
I've committed to three years at the Tania Centre for now.

3.)  What will you be doing there?
I'll be doing the same thing I've been doing the past two summers, along with a couple of extra projects.  I'll be teaching English and music and whatever else they need me to teach (except for maybe Swahili!).  I'll also be helping to plan a park down the road from the school as a source of income for the school, as well as looking into the possibility of opening a music school within the Tania Centre.

4.)  What is a goal you have for while you're there?
Besides my job description in #3, my biggest goal is to show Jesus' love as best as I can to the students and employees at the Tania Centre.

5.)  What will your living quarters be like?
I'll be living at the Tania Centre, like I have the past two summers.  I stayed in a different place on campus each summer, so I'm not sure exactly where on campus I'll be staying, but I can tell you that it will be a safe building with electricity and running water.  And all I have to do to get to school in the morning is roll out of bed and walk out my door!

6.)  Are you worried for your safety?
No more worried than I am when I'm walking around downtown Washington, D.C.  The school is in a secure compound with a guard, about a half hour or so outside the city (depending on traffic).  Recent attacks that have made the news here in the U.S. took place near the border with Somalia, an area I have no plans to visit.  I trust my safety to God in Kenya just like I do in the U.S.!

7.)  What's your biggest concern?
I worry some about loneliness.  I have a few friends in Kenya, but they're mostly on the other side of Nairobi, and regardless, it will be difficult not having people around who are my age and who share my culture.  I'll have Skype and email to keep in contact with my friends and family, but I know I'll miss being near them.

8.)  What are you doing with your cello?
It's coming with me, of course!  I have a special flight cover that goes over the case and found instructions for safely packing the cello within its case, so I feel safe putting it under the plane.  (No, I don't want to hear about the horror stories you've heard about musicians flying with their instruments.  I've heard more than enough.)

9.)  How will you be supporting yourself financially while you're there?
Like most missionaries, I'll be doing fundraising over the next three years.  I'm working with my church's missions team to come up with a budget so I'll know soon exactly how much I'll have to raise.

10.)  How can we support you from back here in the States?
In LOTS of ways!  First of all, prayer--anyone can pray, and I'll need lots of it over the next three years.
You can also give.  I'll be looking for monthly sponsors and one-time givers--anything will help.  I'll have more specific details of how you can financially support me in another post later in the summer.
I also have a fundraising recital on the calendar for later this summer, so if you're a local and would like to come, I'd love to see you there!  It will be August 22nd at 6:00 PM at The Music Loft in Herndon.  Save the date!
I also love getting emails while I'm in Kenya, too, so staying in touch is a big morale boost.  I'd love to hear from you!


Any questions you have that I didn't answer?  Let me know!

Help my unbelief

Once, a father brought his son to Jesus to be healed.  The son would go into convulsions and foam at the mouth, sometimes in dangerous places like around fire or a well, and had for most of his life.  Jesus' disciples were unable to heal him, so the father brought him directly to Jesus, begging him to help.  Jesus told him that all things are possible for those who believe.
I love the father's response to this:  "I believe!  Help my unbelief!"  (Mark 9)

It seems like a contradictory statement, but oh, how often I have felt like that father.

I believe God provides, so I tithe even in months when money is tight, but I still sometimes worry about making ends meet.  (Help my unbelief.)

I believe God has work for me to do in Kenya, so I'm leaving the life I've built here in Virginia to follow him there, but I still sometimes wonder if I'm doing the right thing.  (Help my unbelief.)

I believe God loves me so much more than I can comprehend, but I still sometimes wonder if the way he directs my path is what's really best for me.  (Help my unbelief.)

I believe God loves my friends and family so much more than I could ever love them, but I sometimes wonder if they'll still feel loved when I'm not around as often to show my love for them.  (Help my unbelief.)

I believe all of these things, but I don't always feel them.  I do not believe as strongly as I wish I did.  But feelings are fleeting and can change based on what I had for dinner or what side of the bed I got out of in the morning, and God does not place too much weight on our feelings.  John tells us that "God is greater than our feelings," which is a great comfort to those of us whose feelings sometimes contradict our beliefs.

God is good, whether I feel like he is or not.  God provides, whether I feel like he is or not.  God loves me, whether I feel like he does or not.  God loves my friends and family more perfectly than I ever could, whether I feel like he does or not.

I believe these things, dear Jesus.  Help my unbelief.

What might have been

I like to blog after God has shown me some amazing truth that I feel like I need to share with others, or when God is moving in my life in a big way.  I like to blog when I feel like God's given me some answers, or at least when I'm excited about the questions that aren't answered yet.  It feels good to share deep revelations and giddy anticipation of revelations yet to come.

Today, I don't feel like I have a lot of answers, and the questions fill me more with regret than anticipation.  And I feel like you should know I have days where I feel like this, too.  So, even though it's a bit of a downer, I'll still share my heart with you today.

Making such a big decision, to move to Kenya, has brought into sharp contrast all of the other paths down which I could have taken my life.  The different people I could know, the different places I could have gone, the different lives I could have lived.  I'm sure most people have thoughts like this at one point or another, but I wasn't prepared to feel this way.

I know how I'm supposed to feel--I should feel at peace, and I should feel secure knowing that I'm following God's path for my life.  God wants what's best for me even more than I do.  So how could I not be happy about following him where he calls me?

Yet I still feel a need to mourn my lives that might have been.  The life I could have had if I'd moved there, or lived a slightly different lifestyle, or stayed with that person, or went to this college.  If I'd done any number of things differently, I would not be where I am now.  And though I know that God's plan is always so much better than mine, a part of me still wonders if I would have been happier had things turned out differently.

So I'm praying now, not just to prepare me for my move to Kenya, but also for the peace that God promised us as I grieve for what never can be.  And I want to be real with you, my friends:  I am so, so excited to be moving to Kenya.  I can't wait to hold my babies over there and spend every day showing them how much God loves them.  But it is hard, too.

I have this hanging on the wall in my bedroom, and I think I'll take with me to Kenya, as I'm sure I'll need the reminder from time to time:

Dreams

Nearly seven years ago, I began my career as an orchestra teacher.  I had plans to continue my education, become well-respected in my career, and be the best teacher I could be.  I would someday get married, have kids, and maybe do the whole white picket fence thing, with a dog and a yard and two cars in the garage.  The American Dream.

Five and a half years ago, a team from my church returned from a trip to Kenya where they worked on details for starting up a non-profit to work with our partner church in Nairobi.  Their pictures and their stories worked their way into my heart, and I just knew I had to visit that country some day.

Four and a half years ago, I stepped off of a plane onto soil 8,000 miles from home, of a country I'd been praying about.  I only spent three weeks there, but the people and the country left a mark on my soul, and I never fully left Kenya again.  A part of my heart was always there.

Three and a half years ago, I returned to the country that had left such a large impression on my soul.  I thought a return trip might satisfy this longing I had to be there, but it only intensified it.  And I knew that this longing was  no ordinary longing, but one that had been placed there by God.  I no longer wanted the American dream--I wanted God's dream.  I was being called to Kenya for more than just 3 weeks.  I had no idea what that looked like, or even if it was really God or just the excitement of Kenya talking, so I went home and prayed for a long time.

Three years ago, God confirmed that he was calling me to Kenya.  I broke up with the man I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with and started doing all I could to pay off my debts so I could get to Kenya as soon as possible.  I was going all in, and couldn't wait to follow this dream that God had placed in my heart.

Two years ago, the pace I had been living at to try to get to Kenya faster caught up with me.  I began treatment for anxiety & depression, I had to scale back on the second job I was working to pay off my debts, and I didn't go to Kenya that year.  I spent many tearful hours in prayer, asking God why he'd placed this longing in my heart, only to let these enormous obstacles get in the way.  I'd completely changed the course of my life the year before to follow this dream, and now it looked like God wasn't letting me follow it.  I feared I would never pay off my debts without working as much at my second job, and I feared I'd never be mentally healthy enough to move to Kenya.  I would never be completely happy if I wasn't in Kenya, but I would never be mentally healthy if I kept up the pace required to get me to Kenya.

Two years ago, my pastor forwarded me an email he'd received from someone who'd visited a school called the Tania Centre, started by a Kenyan man our church used to support.  My pastor thought I'd be interested in finding out more about this school, and I ended up making plans to spend my summer there.  If I wasn't getting to Kenya for a longer period of time anytime soon, I may as well try to spend what time I could there.

A year and a half ago, I stepped onto a plane not knowing much about the place where I was going or even who would be meeting me at the airport.  I trusted that God had a plan for this summer, but questioned why I thought it was a good idea to commit for such a long time (5 weeks) at a place I knew next to nothing about.  And why the people who sent me thought it was a good idea.

A year and a half ago, while the children at the Tania Centre were so completely capturing my heart, I read a book by Mother Teresa with an idea that changed my whole way of thinking:  "I must not attempt to control God's action;  I must not count the stages in the journey He would have me make.  I must not desire a clear perception of my advance upon the road, must not know precisely where I am upon the way of holiness.  I ask Him to make a saint of me, yet I must leave to Him the choice of the saintliness itself and still more the means that lead to it."  God used this book to remind me that this dream was not my own; this dream was his.  This plan was not my own; this plan was his.  No matter how hard I worked myself to get to Kenya, it would never happen if it wasn't on God's timing, in God's way.

One year ago, I opened the hands that had been holding so tightly onto my dreams of Kenya.  I let the dream return to the Dream-Giver and accepted that it might be a long, long time until I get back to Kenya for more than a few weeks at a time.  I accepted that Virginia was where God wanted me right then, and that the dream he'd given me was not mine to force into being, but his to fulfill at the right time.  I began praying to be in Kenya in about 7 or 8 or 10 years instead of the 1 or 2 years that I'd been hoping for.  And I was at peace.

Seven months ago, I returned to the Tania Centre, not with the fear of the unknown that I'd had the previous year, but with joy and excitement to see the children and adults I'd fallen so in love with the year before.  I only had 6 weeks with them, but I would soak up every second and thank God for the time that I had.  I planned to come back as often as possible.

Five months ago, the school doctor said the same words to me that many other people had said to me at one time or another:  "You should come back next year to stay.  Trust God with your debts, and come back to stay."  But this time, I heard more than just the doctor--I heard the Holy Spirit whispering to my heart.  "It's time."  I hardly dared to believe it.  I'd braced myself for a long, lonely path between now and when I finally got to Kenya long-term.  How could the call to return come so suddenly?  I told the Tania Centre that I would pray about it and let them know.  I needed time to be sure it was actually God speaking, and not just the excitement of being in Kenya.

Three months ago, I sat down in a Starbucks with my pastor and let him know that God had confirmed that he was calling me back to the Tania Centre.  I prayed about how long it should be, toyed with anything from 1 to 5 years, and settled at 3 years.  Then I'd see where God wanted me at that point.  My pastor gave me his support and promised to pray for me.  So many others have done the same as I've spread the news to my friends and church.

Today, I find myself preparing for the biggest leap of faith that I've ever taken.  By the end of this year, I'll have purged most of my possessions, packed up what's left, and moved 8,000 miles away from my friends and family.  I'm obviously excited, but I have many fears:  What if I get homesick?  What if I get physically or mentally ill?  How will I adjust to living in a culture so different from my own?  I still have student debt that I need to trust to God, because being a missionary doesn't pay the bills.  I still have credit card debt that I plan to have paid off by the time I leave, but it's taking a lot of hard work, and I'm relying on my God for the strength to do it.  Because I know now that it's not my dream, and it can't be done on my own strength.  No matter how hard I work, I won't get to Kenya if it's not God's doing.  And I wouldn't want to get to Kenya if it's not God's doing.

Stepping out in faith in such a large way has made many parts of my faith much clearer to me.  I used to try to fit the things Jesus said into my life, to figure out what he meant, rather than trying to fit my life into what Jesus said.  I found it hard to find meaning in much of Jesus' words when I was chasing the American dream.  But now, as I prepare to start a new life on the other side of the world, things Jesus said sound much more straightforward:  if I want to find my life, I've got to lose it for Jesus' sake.  (I can already taste the new life waiting for me as I give up my old one.)  If I give up friends and family and home for Jesus, I'll be rewarded with 100 times as many in this life and the next.  (There are already over 100 little people praying for me at the Tania Centre, ready to be my family there once I've left my family here.)  If I stop storing up treasures on earth, and invest more in God's children, I'll have treasure in heaven.  (I've already started purging some of my belongings, and the freeing feeling it gives me is indescribable.)  My heart is following my treasure, and my heart is no longer with these material things.  My heart is with my Father, and with the children he's calling me to love.

While there is much to do to prepare, for now, I simply ask you to pray.  Pray that God would prepare me in every way possible for this big move;  that he would prepare the Tania Centre for this big change for them;  that he would already be working on the hearts of my future supporters;  that he would make the path clear to get me where he wants me to go;  that I would continue to follow his dream with his strength, and not my dream with my own strength.