all we wanted was cake

All we wanted was cake. 

A birthday was coming up and the kitchen staff was baking cakes by the dozen. Actually they only made a few, but they smelled so good. The sweet scent wafted into the room and caused mouths to water as we realized we hadn't had anything sweet in months. So we decided that it was high time to bake a cake. We hopped online and went to my favorite website, allrecipes.com, and browsed the various recipes for various cakes. They all looked so good and so...fancy. We sadly closed the computer, very aware that our resources here in Africa would not bake us such beautiful cakes. 

But we just really wanted cake. 

So off to the kitchen we went, and asked, a little pathetically, how much it would cost if we asked for a cake. Mama Shiro laughed and told us she would figure out the ingredients and tell us the price. I looked at my meager 200 shillings and hoped with all my heart that I would have enough. 

A little piece of me died when I realized I didn't have enough money and that cake that day was not an option.

In conclusion, when I get home I am baking a beautiful welcome-home-Christie cake and eating the ENTIRE THING by myself. And that, my friends, is the most exciting thing that happened to me all week. 

xoxo christie

it's all just a PROCESS

DEAR FRIENDS ♥

Today was supposed to be a hot and sunny day. It was supposed to be the most miserable hot that it could possibly be because today was the day that we were supposed to go to the beach and swim and cool off. Unfortunately, the weather didn’t get the memo or God has another plan for the day because we woke up to pouring rain and got a cup of tea and sat down on the sitting room couches, prepared for another day of relaxing. And it is so easy to fall into a rut of complaining and feeling bored and useless now that things have slowed down. It’s a lot harder to be grateful for this time that I have to just sit back and enjoy the culture and spend time with Jesus. It’s interesting that the less I have to do, the more difficult time management becomes. It’s so easy to let this life of relaxation slowly transform into a life of pure laziness and in order for that not to happen, I need to make sure I’m using my time wisely instead of just letting it waste away. So I’m writing a blog post.

These past two months (yes, two months! I can’t believe so much time has already passed!) have given me a lot of time inside of my head. I've been by myself a lot. For those of you who know me, being alone turns me into a melancholy person who over thinks everything and I hate it. So it’s been a stretching experience, to say the least. And I have had so much time to think. When something happens that irritates me, I don’t just get irritated. I wonder why it irritates me and I spend time thinking about it until I've figured out why I’m irritated. I've read the Lord of the Rings series, the Hobbit, two volumes of Sherlock Holmes, and various other books since I have been here and I've grown accustomed to being alone. I’m not saying that I don’t spend time with the kids, because I do. When I say “alone”, I mean that I have nobody to relate to, to share my feelings with, so it’s just me and the Lord. During this time, I've had a lot of time to think about me and my relationship with the Lord. And I have discovered a few things. And I’m going to share them with you. My blog is a way for me to process my thoughts and feelings so that’s why I’m writing this. I might not even post it. But I probably will. Anyway, here it goes.  

1.     

                1. Christians baffle me. When a relationship between a boy and a girl is concerned, to say “I love you” is the biggest deal ever. It means engagement. It means marriage. It means together forever. And if you don’t plan on all of that, then you better not even be in a relationship, much less say “I love you.” And I’m not saying that all that’s a bad thing. To say that you love someone is a big deal. Because I grew up in a school of classical education, I’m aware of all the different forms of love there are. I’m talking about the romantic love, the Valentine’s-Day-chocolate-and-flowers kind of I Love You. Anyway, Christians tend to each have their own strong opinion about how relationships should be and when the appropriate time to declare love for one another is. But when it comes to a relationship with Jesus, they absentmindedly sing worship songs declaring their own love for Jesus and praying prayers full of love without even really thinking about what they’re saying. (I’m not saying that you don’t truly love Jesus, don’t worry, I’m just speaking out of observation). If I spend a year in a relationship with a boy and I say that I ‘m in love with him, there might be discussions, doubt, advice, and warnings given to me by many Christians. However, if I walked up to the front of the church after really focusing on my relationship with the Lord for only a few months and said I was in love with Him, I would be met with a round of applause and maybe a few tears of joy in the congregation. And that baffles me. The process of falling in love, whether with a significant other or with Jesus, is just that. A process. You don’t accept Jesus into your heart and suddenly fall in love with Him. At least I don’t. And that’s been a revelation that I have just had. I’ve always felt like I should love Jesus immediately before even getting to know Him and I’ve just now realized that it’s not like that. Right now, I hardly know Him. To say that I’m in love with Him would be a lie, because I need to really know Him first, just like any other relationship. I don’t know. It’s just been a surprising discovery that I’ve had. 

      

                2.  Another thing I’ve discovered that it doesn’t matter how far away I stray from Jesus, He’s always going to be a central part of who I am. I was raised in a Christian home and for some reason, when I try to run from Jesus, He’s still there. When I arrived in Africa, He was my lifeline. He still is. He’s been my “rebound” countless times. When a relationship ends, when I have no one else to turn to, when I’m experiencing a tragedy-He’s the one I turn to. I was just talking about how falling in love is the same with Jesus as with any other boy, but I just meant the process. Everything else is different. Because with a guy, being a rebound isn’t endured. Being the one that I fall back on when there’s no one else is the worst. But Jesus is just glad that I spend time with Him and He’s willing to wait it out. He’s forever, He’s never letting go. And that’s what makes all the difference. He’ll always be part of my core because He’ll always be there for me to come back to. I know that sounds like a mess. Like He’s content just to be the last one I turn to for the rest of my life, but that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that as many times as I run away, He’ll be there waiting until the day comes when I truly fall for Him and won’t have anyone else. I’m in the process, heading towards that day now…I’m just not there yet.

      And that’s all I really feel like writing about right now. Just two observations I’ve made about my own personal relationship with Jesus. I’m excited to see what lies ahead for me and Jesus and I know that in this next month of relaxation I will experience Him in a whole new way and I’m ready for it. God bless you all this holiday season. I missed Thanksgiving but PTL Christmas is a big deal here. I’ve never experienced an African Christmas and I don’t know that I ever will again so bring it on.

Xoxoxo much love love love!
-Christie

i rode a camel

I rode a camel. One of the American girls and I saw camel rides being offered and we just went for it. As I approached the camel it started snorting and grinding his teeth, so there was a bit of tension in my relationship with the camel. The tension only increased as I climbed onto the saddle-like contraption and he let out a soft bellow of annoyance. And then he started plodding glumly along the Indian Ocean with two Americans giggling and chattering and wondering how on earth  life could get any better. Then the camel obviously decided he’d had enough of our joyous attitudes and he stopped. The camel leader looked a little nervous and began speaking in Swahili. It was to no avail, however, because the camel began to lay down. When a camel lays down, you do NOT want to be on his back. First, his front goes down, so he’s in a kind of kneeling position. Those on his back are thrown forward and then lashed back as he lowers his back. And there we sat, laughing uncomfortably and wondering if we should just get off and run before our not-so-hospitable camel tried to throw us off or something. Before we could put our Jason-Bourne-rolling-off-the-camel-and-making-a-mad-dash-for-the-car-plan into action, however, the camel began to stand up. We went through the same dramatic process of being thrown to and fro until the camel decided he was content and began his slow journey back to the starting place. And then it was over and we dismounted and he left us there to wonder what exactly had just happened. Did we really just ride a camel down the Indian Ocean?

Xoxoxoox
Christie 

I wrote this too late at night...

It’s getting hotter and my days are getting longer and less and less busy. Things have almost slowed down to a stop and all there is to do is play with the kids every opportunity I get and sometimes help in the kitchen. Before I even came to Kenya, my goal was primarily to have a chance to spend TIME with Jesus and grow closer to him. Little did I know that two months into my journey my entire schedule would consist of spending time with Jesus and drinking tea.

I’m sitting here trying to think of a riveting tale to tell you of my adventures, but my life has been lacking of all adventure recently. I did go to the beach with several of the Americans who stopped in for a few days, so I suppose I’ll tell you about that.

First of all, I’d like to let you know how nice it was to see an American in real life. This is the longest time I’ve been away from my home, my family, and any kind of familiarity. When I found Nutella and Pringles in the supermarket I nearly cried with joy at the familiar sight. So to see an American up close was truly a gift from God. My usually boisterous self was quiet, basically silent, while they were here.  I’ve realized that I haven’t had the opportunity to joke around or have a true conversation in two months because the people here don’t understand me very well and I sure don’t understand them well enough to keep up with long conversations. So when I had the opportunity to talk in my American English as fast as I wanted to, I didn’t even know what to say. Anyway, one night we went to the beach.

As soon as we stepped onto the beautiful, almost silky, sand, we were bombarded by people trying to sell things. I had plastic bracelets shoved at me along with beautiful scarves and carvings. The thing about Kenya is that even a “no” is a “yes, keep talking” and no matter how many times I rejected their offers, they still trailed behind me giving me ridiculously bad deals for a bracelet that I didn’t want. At first, I didn’t mind it. When they asked me where I was from, I answered, excited to meet the natives. Then I realized that their seemingly friendly introductions were actually traps. They would ask me where I was from, talk for a little about Obama, then give me yet another deal on whatever they were trying to sell. I couldn’t get away from it, and soon I learned to haggle. A lady tried to sell me a wrap for 1000 shillings and I haggled it down to 600, and I was very proud. Then I saw another lady selling a different wrap and haggled it down to 200. I eventually began having a good old time trying to get away from the sellers and kept wandering down the beach. I noticed how beautiful and sad the women were, and how old the men were. The beach was full of “couples” like this, an old man with a prostitute. I took a step back and tried to look at the beach through the eyes of Jesus. All I could see were broken people. People selling as many bracelets as they could so that they could have food that night. Prostitutes trying not to look miserable as they looked out from underneath fake eyelashes. Old men pretending that they weren’t paying for company. Broken people. We always tend to look at people from the outside and we forget that everybody that we come into contact with is an actual person.

Look at yourself. Look into your heart. Think of all the thoughts that are swirling around in your head and all the feelings you go through on any given days. Then think of all the people we try not to think about. Prostitutes, the poor…they all have thoughts and feelings, too. Dreams and desires that go beyond their current situation. Think of all of the billions of the people on this earth and ponder for a moment the absolutely infinite number of thoughts that occur every single day. It’s a crazy thing. Everyone has a life and nobody truly, truly understands each other. It’s a sad but beautiful thing.

The beautiful thing is that God understands each and every one of us perfectly. 

love christie

Faith attracts the positive. Fear attracts the negative.

I was not afraid when I was dropped off at the Dublin airport and left to navigate my way to Kenya with no phone and no way to contact anyone. I was not afraid when I was running through the airport in Istanbul, sure that I was about to miss my flight. I was not afraid when I landed in Nairobi and found my way through the basically deserted airport by the help of a stranger who may or may not have been quite intoxicated. Even though I’ve forgotten to pray in times of trouble, and even though I’ve attempted more than once to depend on my own strength and wisdom, there’s not been a single time during this trip where I remember being vividly afraid. Somewhere, in my core, I knew that Jesus has been, is still, and always will be for me. And if He is for me, then who can stand against me? (This is your cue to shout “amen!” because yes, I do realize I sound overly and perhaps obnoxiously preachy).

All of that to say, it is not with fear that I make this announcement: instead of leaving in late March to go back to Ireland as was originally planned, I will be leaving a month earlier in order to avoid the elections here in Kenya. Nobody is quite sure how dangerous the elections will be here, but after praying lengthy prayers and thinking too hard and waiting for the Lord to answer, I feel that it would be wise to leave early, just in case. I feel peaceful and happy about this decision, and I am glad and grateful for the remaining three months that I have in Mombasa.

These next three months will be eventful ones! My teaching job is dwindling and my main priority now is playing with the kids and enjoying them before they all go home for Christmas break. Break starts on November 23 (a day after Thanksgiving, which I suppose I will not be participating in this year!) and goes on until the beginning of January. During this time, kids from surrounding high schools will be coming to the school to live here and enjoy each other’s fellowship in a setting of relaxation. I, along with two American guys who will be here until mid-December, will be spending time with them for a couple weeks before I go to Ray of Hope Orphanage in Shimba Hills. Shimba Hills is across town and in a much more rural setting than I am in now. I’ll be there for about three weeks loving the children and just helping out where I can. I believe there is a YWAM base right next to the orphanage so I’m looking forward to meeting some new people there, as well. I’ll be back in Mikindani just in time to celebrate Christmas and to greet my friend Christine who’s flying in from Virginia to stay for a couple weeks.

By the time Christine leaves, I have just over a month left here in Mombasa. I’m excited that my itinerary is picking up a little bit and that I’ll be introduced to some new adventures in the near future. Praise the Lord for mixing things up every now and then and I can’t wait to tell you about my upcoming escapades. I pray that you all are doing well as you prepare for this season of Thanksgiving and of LOVE.

XOXOX love, Christie

starting to love how god works

The day of the preschool graduation had finally arrived, and the school was buzzing with excitement. I was told that I would be walking with the students over to the neighboring school, which I was happy to do in order to get to know the kids better and get a bit of fresh air. i did my hair, trying to make it look alright despite it's awkward growing-out-stage, and i wore my favorite maxi dress and pretty white sweater. for the first time in a while, i felt pretty. it was only a few steps into our journey that I noticed the children were carrying water bottles and wearing galoshes or heavy-duty shoes. I shrugged it off, lifted my skirt a bit so it wouldn't drag, and continued. chatting with my new friends and laughing at the antics of the boys made time fly, and when I finally looked around, I realized we weren't in our neighborhood anymore. we were in a little village with dirt roads and mud houses and vacant eyes and serious faces. and there was a truck in the middle of the road, stuck in the mud. I hardly noticed any of that, because we were on a high hill, overlooking the hills of Mombasa. there were houses scattered on those lush green slopes and I felt like an elephant would walk by any minute (a cow actually did walk by, but it wasn't the same) and it truly sunk in that I was in AFRICA, and that Africa is wild and beautiful. I just gazed out across the land feeling the breeze on my face, when a river caught my eye. my first thought was of how lovely the river was, and then...wait-are those the students crossing the river? indeed it was. our journey was not a little walk through the neighborhood. it was a hike. a hike that involved walking through a river and, according to this slope we were standing on, a long downhill trek in the mud. 

the kids were removing their shoes and slipping and sliding down the hills and through the river, while I maneuvered my way down the hill as carefully as possible as not to soil my dress and praying for wings to fly over the river. alas, no wings were sprouted, and the river came more quickly than I would have liked. the kids looked on with great amusement, more than ready to see this "mzungu" do a little work. I took a deep breath, removed my shoes, pretended I was a hobbit on a long journey, and plunged on. it was slippery. walking against the current in slippery mud was difficult in and of itself, but walking against the current in slippery mud while holding my skirt up and clinging to my shoes and my little pouch containing my phone and a few shillings was nearly impossible. a student snatched my pouch and shoes, saying "TEACHER! please let me carry these for you!" and I was slipping and sliding too much to hardly notice. but while we're on the topic, I just want to say that every single one of these kids is a unique blessing from God. when we got to the school, a few girls washed my shoes for me because they wanted to. may the Lord bless these children. anyways, without my pouch or shoes, I was holding up my skirt and still slipping around. the boys laughed and laughed before taking my arms and helping me through. I squeaked and laughed and finally made it across, sipping wet and muddy. so muddy. I retrieved my shoes and my pouch, and continued. 

as we continued however, a very drunk man grabbed my arm and shouted. "COME WITH ME, GIRL! I WILL HELP YOU!" I was staring wide eyed at him when a 6th grader walked up and stared at him, talking firmly and loudly. and then he went away. once again, praise Jesus for these children! after more miles of hiking in mud, we made it. the teachers were there already, and they suppressed smiles at my crazy appearance and at my bare feet. I felt awkward and dirty and sweaty, but there was a bond formed between me and the kids that day. we braved the journey together, and I look back on it with fondness. 

lesson learned? vanity is bad. I'm a vain person. at home I spend hours on my appearance and I'm always wondering if I look okay. coming to Africa has been hard for lots of reasons, one of them being that I never feel pretty. the one day I did feel pretty, I started feeling confident and not as dependent on the Lord. it sounds ridiculous, yes, but it's who i am. as soon as I felt like I had a handle on everything, including my appearance, Jesus nipped it in the bud. thanks, Lord, for the water and mud and grass and sweat. it was a growing experience and thanks to Jesus, my attitude was shockingly POSITIVE. Praise the Lord for showing me that inner beauty is 273937x more important than outward beauty. 

A Few Low Points

this past week has been an adventure. adventure in the best sense and in the worst sense. adventure in the most exciting sense and in the most mundane sense. these past couple days have been a whirlwind of preparing for the kindergarten graduation of our sister school. dramas, songs, and dances could be heard and seen all throughout the school and everyone was excited. however, that left me at a loss of what to do. there was so much practicing that actual classes were not of upmost importance anymore, leaving me to "chill". so I took a nap. 

somewhere during my peaceful slumber, somebody wandered by and saw that my door was cracked open. not wanting it to swing open, she locked it from the outside. I eventually woke up, feeling refreshed, and realized that I needed to use the toilet. absolutely needed to. like...it was pretty crucial that I got to the toilet ASAP. after stretching and making my way to the door, i turned the handle and...the doorj didn't open. I groaned and tears sprung into my eyes. I knew the house was empty and even if I yelled I would not be heard. I pressed against the door, wondered if there was a cup I could pee into, prayed that someone would come, and envisioned me spending the rest of my life locked in this room. in a last ditch effort, I knocked feebly at the door and squeaked: "is anybody out there? hello?" in a moment, my door was unlocked, and the lovely Mama Shiro stood there. she fawned and apologized and wondered who would have forgotten to look into the room before locking it, and I forgave and forced laughter and smiles as I tried to subtly make a mad dash for the bathroom. god is good. 

the same day, having been left to chill, I was feeling lazy so I piled all my clothes in a bucket and headed to the washroom to hand wash some clothes. I put on my gloves and grabbed a sponge and set to work. it's actually quite backbreaking, and I was so tired when I had finished. I was left with dripping clothes that made the bucket much heavier than it was before. I sighed, looking into the future and seeing me climbing five flights of stairs to the roof where the clothes were to be hung. when I finally made it, the gate to the roof was locked. so down the stairs I went, fetched a key, and went back up. by then, I was wondering how I was ever going to survive anything if doing a load of laundry in Africa was enough to make me want to rest for the rest of my life. anyways, I hung the clothes. a few hours later, I went to get them to find that someone had already taken them off. I pinned up a few more clothes (mainly my delicates, just blowing in the breeze) and went on a search for my clothes, which I found in a huge pile of someone else's clothes, still damp. I dejectedly took them to my room, my legs basically on fire from those darn stairs. 

later that night, I absentmindedly wondered if it might rain that night. moments later, it started pouring. I smiled, enjoying the pitter-patter of the rain, then froze. my laundry! I made a mad dash up the stairs, ignoring the inquiring glances that followed me, the crazy American, as I went to rescue my underwear that was flying high hanging on the roof clothesline. when I got to the roof, people were swarming, gathering their laundry. a few girls were staring at my (suddenly very bright and noticeable) delicates, wondering who on earth owned them. I wandered up with my little bucket and started gathering my garments. "how embarrassing!" I blurted, at a loss of what to say "darn rain soaked my underwear!" met only by the serious stares of the girls, I muttered some sort of farewell, flashed a smile that was not returned, and slowly walked away with a face that would have been flaming red if not for that godforsaken rain. god is good. 

these two experiences may seem like a few paragraphs of me complaining. I would encourage you to enjoy the humor in the situations as I am able to now, and remember with me that an adventure would not be an adventure without the low points that make the high points worth it all. god is good, all the time, and he's always with me, whether locked in a room or panting as i barely survive my trip up the stairs. I think he use these experiences to teach me that I'm not really as capable as I think I am. when I start feeling high and mighty, he sends some rain to help me remember I'm not in control. praise the lord. 

Proud (and blessed!) to be an American

You may sometimes take for granted that you live in America. I hope this posts enlightens you at least a little bit, and perhaps causes you to think a little more carefully of the things you say or think about the country in which you live. 

Riots broke out during the elections in Kenya five years ago. One student, George, who I have had the opportunity to talk to, has told me of his family losing everything due to this unexpected outbreak. Houses were burned down, people were shot, and an unbelievable amount of damage was left behind even after the riots calmed. Since then, a new constitution has been written and fingers has been crossed as Kenyans approach their 2013 election with new hopes. Debates have been scheduled and campaigns are being launched in an effort to get through this election in a civilized manner. We won't know, however, how calmly (or how violently) this presidential election will be until March 4, 2013 and that makes people nervous. 

At home, Obama has just been re-elected as President of the United States of America. I know some of you are overjoyed at this news and some of you are disappointed and concerned. However you're feeling, I implore you to remember how blessed you are to live where you live. You can put Republican or Democratic signs up in your yard, bumper stickers on your car, and you don't have to worry about being attacked or shot. I know that America is in a tough place right now, and I know the future is uncertain. But what is certain is that America is mature and has a system and a constitution that has lasted for centuries. Remember that not all countries can say that, as much as they all want to. America is looked up to. All the kids here are enthralled by the idea of living in America and we need to realize that whoever is running our country, he is running a blessed one. 

Basically all I'm saying is be GRATEFUL. I've seen rants and complaints and confusion and anger and I encourage you to take a step back and thank the Lord that you have (more than) enough food to eat and (more than) enough reason to feel blessed rather than disappointed. Praise the Lord for what you have, for it is not out of His power to take it away. 

keep in mind:
"The Lord gave and the Lord took away. May the name of the Lord be BLESSED." [Job 1:21]

love christie