Asante Sana God!

Seeing as how my sleeping patterns are beautifuly ruined what with me waking up at 7 am bright and early only to fall back asleep at 9 am and wake up at dinnertime to find that I was not hungry at all (which is extremely strange in and of itself, the fact that I was not hungry) and how today I am wide awake at the glorious time of 6:20 am, happily munching away on an enormous bag of Honey Nut Cheerios, which my dad informs me lowers cholesterol and therefore is the best cereal in the world, I decided that I should probably blog, watch some television, complete my very very large pile of summer homework, or go running to get back in shape. Which, I also decided, I would do in that very order, with the possible exception of running, seeing as how since returning from Kenya I have only eaten Cheerios and a spoonful of rice and snow peas, which, much to my mom and my dismay, my dad insisted was edamame and would only eat the little beans inside. But to get back on topic, I wanted especially to blog about the orphanage/school in Nakuru, because the experience touched me, making me very happy but also sad because it was our last day of ministry.

Before arriving at the orphanage, we were trying to decide whether to do the drama because none of us had brought our costumes (except Jesse - way to go!). We decided to do it anyway because, as we had learned before, it was not about doing the drama perfectly with all the props - it was about how God would use the drama to touch other people's lives.

Right before the concert, we were frantically making the signs at the same time while making salvation bracelets for all the children. Eventually it was time to go inside and begin the worship concert, but somehow I got stuck outside making at least twenty more salvation bracelets while trying to explain what the colors meant, which I'm almost sure none of them really understood what I was saying. I would finish one bracelet for the child that was left out of the craft, only to turn around and see five more children walking through the gates into the compound without bracelets.

Stressed out as I already was, I was extremely sad to discover about an hour later that I had been explaining the colors all wrong! I forgot what yellow was, so I told everyone that they were humans, and that we sinned (that was black - I got that one right thank goodness). Red for Jesus' blood and white for purity I also got right, but I forgot what blue was so I told them that it was Heaven, and finished off the tale with green for Eternal Life (which I also made up, but yay that was right too).

But anyways, after the worship concert (where I just want to add that Bekah, your testimony was beautiful), it was time to do the drama (but I also want to add that during the concert while Daniel was drumming, he accidentally flung his drumstick into who knows where and he had the most hilarious look of surprise on his face that I ended up laughing so hard I'm almost sure tears sprung, which was when I remembered that I was supposed to be djembe-ing) (but good job playing the drums Daniel!).

And back to the drama... Everything was backwards though... which stressed me out even more. Dan, however, stepped into the role of Greed and was pretty much perfect. Hats off to you!

When we finally finished the drama, I felt emotionally spent. I could hardly breathe and my head was spinning. Everyone else went inside to listen Trenton's message but I stayed outside, hugging the wooden pole for support. Normally I would have ignored whatever was bothering me and gone in with the rest of the group, but I could not bring myself to let go of that pole. Looking back, I believe God wanted me to stay out there, and so I did.

As I stood, grasping that pole like it was my life, one of the girls on the worship team, Brenda, approached me. She caught me by surprise and reached out to hold my hand. Immediately I could breathe again and my head returned to normal, but that pole was still firm in my grips. Brenda told me that the drama was very beautiful and that it touched her heart. I almost cried with happiness. She asked me if I was an actress, to which I replied by laughing, and then realizing how that might appear rude, I quickly explained that it was my first time ever doing anything like that. Praise God, I almost yelled out loud. He used a thousand imperfections to create an imperfect drama that would still reach the people He wanted to touch using His power.

We talked for what seemed like eternity, until the other two girls on the worship team, Maureen and Sharon, came to tell me how much they loved the worship and drama. Soon we were all laughing and talking like best friends who hadn't seen each other in a very long time. They taught me how to make chapati (one of those do-not-try-at-home recipies), told me about their lives, and what they wanted for the future. I told them about my life, about the team, and about snow and snowball fights - a conversation that ended with them wondering why anyone in their right mind would want play a game where the object was to hit other people with balls of snow while trying not to get hit themselves.

Through all the laughter and bonding (not bondage), the girls encouraged me so much. They made me repeat, "Practice makes perfect" at least a hundred times (probably because they were serious about me being an actress). I also encouraged them, talking about my faith and how I loved God.

After a time, I was talking just to Brenda again, who showed me the rest of the compound. By this time I had finally released that pole, though only because I had to if I was going to walk around with Brenda. When she tld me that they had waited for us since Monday morning (it was a Tuesday afternoon), my heart broke. We were all enjoying our safari, looking out for animals, mions, brhinos, basically goofing around. Brenda told me that they had waited Monday afternoon for us to come. I could hardly breathe again. Finally, Brenda said, they had waited Tuesday morning, wondering if we would ever show up. I couldn't stand it! That morning we were lounging about, worrying about our questionable living quarters, and eating slowly, while the children of Nakuru were patiently awating the visitors they were so excited to receive.

I apologized at least a thousand times, but Brenda would not accept any. She said that she and everyone else was so happy that we had come in the first place, and that all that waiting was worthwhile. "Better late than never!" Brenda said, smiling. Which, of course, just broke my heart even more.

We eventually did go back in, and I ended up sitting next to another girl, who I ended up giving my own salvation bracelet away to, which I again explained poorly. She looked happy though, and I trust that God will explain to her what the colors really mean.

After my bonding with the girls, I felt so elated. That elation manifested in me playing a number of unknown games with the rest of the children, holding hands and laughing hard. One of their games involved some intense dance moves that Bekah and I tried to imitate, causing roars of laughter.

That last day was wonderful to me. I don't ever remember being so happy. I just want to praise God for everything.

But I don't really want to finish this blog because that will mean I have to start my homework...

To end, I suppose, I just want to thank everybody for what each person brought to the team. You guys mean so much to me and I will never forget any of you.

But before I really end, I wanted to tell everyone my story of pre-Kenya. Back in March-ish (it might have been April or May or maybe even February), after I thought I had officially agreed to be a part of the Kenya 2009 team, my parents decided that I would not be able to go. News had recently broken out about pirates and kidnappings on the coast and my mom decided that my safety came first.

When she told me I would not be a part of the team, I choked. I cried straight for a week. One night I went up to my rooftop and cried there for hours, which resulted in my parents thinking that I had run away, both of them driving to every place they thought I might go.

I felt eternally heartbroken, and can't remember ever having cried to much in my life. Every part of me hurt as I imagined having to cancel, imagined myself at home hearing about everyone's time in Kenya, imagining the children and people in Africa that I longed to give love to. I thought that life would not go on (which is silly, but that is really how I felt).

I couldn't face my parents though. God and Christianity were not things we generally talked about. I prayed that my mom would change her mind, I prayed for a miracle. I spent hours on the computer, researching about the dangers of Kenya, compiling a sort of statistical booklet for my parents. Which all resulted in me, coming home one night from SYTE, amazed that I hadn't crashed because I was crying the entire drive home, resolved to talk to my mom about Kenya.

The conversation is a bit (ok it really really really is) too emotional for me to write out, but it was pretty much a wonderful time of bonding, understanding, and lots of tears and tissues, resulting in an eventual, "Fine, If God really wants you to go, you can go, as long as you promise to wear lots of sunscreen."

I am so grateful to God, and my parents, that I was able to go to Kenya with you all. I am so glad that I stood up and argued for this instead of obeying my parents (ha ha). Not to say that you should disobey your parents. Anyways, usually when my parents say "no," it is a definite "no" and I know I can't do anything about it. I can't even express how happy I am that I didn't let this particular "no" be a definite one, and all I can say is that I really see now how God uses the weak and transforms them with His power to do things way way way way way out of their comfort zone. Thank you again, team, for being my family in Christ.

Love,

Kristine