Somewhere On a Place Called Earth

It's funny, isn't it? How we see so many new faces everyday and never learn names to go with them. How we see them once and then never again. How we think about them one single time when they hand us our drink at Starbucks or sit next to us on the bus but we never think of them after that. It's funny how there are so many people in this world and it's funny that the guy you sat next to on the bus the other day might be a friend of a friend of a friend, but you'll never know. And you probably won't see him again and even if you do, you won't recognize him and it'll be just like seeing another new, unfamiliar face without a name.

In the world there is a continent called Europe. In Europe, there's a country called Ireland. In Ireland, a city called Dublin. In Dublin, a street called Dawson Street. On Dawson Street, a Starbucks. In that Starbucks, a small patio, only large enough to accommodate three small, round tables situated in a kind of triangle. In that Starbucks on a bright sunny day, there was me. I bought my venti iced caramel macchiato and my slice of banana bread and, looking out at the sun, decided to sit outside. I put on my sunglasses, hiding my eyes, and sat down, giving off a cool, indifferent air. I was sitting on on of those round tables on the patio in Starbucks on Dawson Street in Dublin in Ireland in Europe on the earth and so were two other people on the two other tables. One was a man wearing a bright scarf and carrying a purse designed for a woman. I would have bought it if I had seen it in a store but alas, it was his and he was rocking it. On the other table, a woman with sunglasses and as much Apple technology as she could handle. She was wearing a headscarf and talking in Arabic on an iPhone while drinking what looked to be her second coffee. There was no doubt about the fact that we were as different as people could be. We would never be friends, as much as I liked his purse or her super nifty laptop case, and this would be the only time we would ever see each other. They each have their own circle of friends and I have mine and our circles will never overlap. But there we were, out of billions of people on this earth, sitting together in a tiny Starbucks on Dawson Street.

One by one we each got up to leave, never once smiling or making eye contact with each other. The man Instagrammed a picture of his coffee cup and the girl kept typing on her computer and I kept watching them and wondering who they were. Thankfully I had my sunglasses, otherwise they would have seen me watching and they would have been creeped out. Who knows where they are now, or what they're doing? We shared that little patio and now we'll be going to our own corners of the world without ever thinking of that patio again. It's a funny thing, isn't it? How many opportunities we have to reach out and befriend people of all different nationalities and types. How many opportunities we never take because we want to stay safe in our own little universe. How many people we probably won't see again and even if we do, we won't recognize them and it'll be just like seeing another new, unfamiliar face without a name.

Kenya Was HARD!

I've been in Ireland for a while now, and I've had time to think and reflect on the four months I lived in Kenya. Before I say anything, I want to make one thing clear. I am grateful for my time in Kenya. I wouldn't change anything about it because every single thing that happened to me taught me something that I might not have learned otherwise. I was blessed to be able to go there, and I was blessed to have left early and I am now blessed to be spending time in Ireland. I'm thankful and I'm fully aware of how blessed I am. I know that my past blog posts have been very upbeat and positive and that's because the last thing I wanted to do was complain and give the impression that I was ungrateful. You all have supported me so much, financially and otherwise, and I want you to know that you sent me off to a place that was difficult, yes, but it was a place I needed to go. So, thank you. I appreciate you. 

...BUT KENYA WAS HARD!

It was hard because in the midst of an active and busy school, I was alone. I was the only foreigner at the school and there was nobody to relate to at the level I was used to. Language was a barrier because, although everyone knew English, I had to speak slowly and simplify my words to the point where I could hardly get across anything I wanted to say. 

It was hard because the school was so busy that I was lost in the hustle and bustle of it all. Everyone seemed to have a job except for me. I taught for the first couple months, then school let out and there was nothing for me to do. I tried to make the most of my time but it was lonely and there was a lack of things to do.

It was hard because I did not feel the basic sense of security that I'm so used to feeling. My phone was stolen and the police could not and would not do anything to help me. The last couple hundred dollars of my support money was stolen and there was nothing I could do. I didn't feel safe, I felt alone, and I wasn't feeling helpful. That's how I felt, therefore that's how it was to me. 

BUT. If I were to look back on this experience and construct a single statement to describe it, I would say this:

I needed Africa, even if Africa didn't need me. Despite the fact that I had no idea what I was getting into when I boarded that flight to Kenya, Someone else did. He knew how difficult it was going to be, yet He made it clear that He wanted me to go anyway. Even if I look back and wonder what on earth I was thinking, I know it was good and I know it was right. Because He was behind me, before me and beside me, cheering me on, holding me steady, and helping me through.

In the midst of difficulty, God is still God and He is still good. When I arrived in Ireland Mom gave me the news that, although my support money had run out, my tax returns were more than what I'd hoped for! I also ended up staying with a lovely lady named Lorretta who had spent 21 YEARS in Chad as a missionary, so I got to unwind and discuss my time with someone who understood exactly what I was saying. I now appreciate a flushing toilet, the ability to go out on a walk and not be afraid, Starbucks, hardwood floors, television in English, cold nights, hot showers, alarm clocks, bookstores, and the color green in a whole new way. I thank Jesus for keeping me safe and sound, for opening my eyes to lives different than mine, and for giving me this precious time in Ireland to unwind and reflect on our adventures together and our adventures yet to come. Thank you all for supporting me and this might be the last Kenya post for a very long time.

Praise the Lord!

Bwana Asifiwe! 

Upendo, Christie

stop judging. just STOP.

Please stop judging. 

I'm so very serious when I say this. I understand that an unborn baby is a living human being, but so is the mother who carries it. We yell and protest against abortion, yet we judge that single mom (who chose not to get an abortion) working hard to make ends meet. I get that you don't encourage homosexuality, but a gay person is a person and a person is an absolute, irreplaceable treasure. Gay or not, people love and live and feel deeply. Don't you dare forget that. Someone with money is no better than someone without money. Just because their house is less than does not mean that they are less than. 

This is the deal. There is a difference between acceptance and toleration. I'm not asking you to tolerate the act of abortion, but I am asking you to accept the mother who makes the choice. I'm not asking you to tolerate and say that you believe in homosexuality, but I am encouraging you to accept the homosexual. I'm not asking that you downsize and act as if you don't have any money because being rich is bad, or feel ashamed if you don't have as much because being poor is bad. Neither is bad. 

Don't throw away your convictions. Don't tolerate everything that comes your way. But accept the PERSON, whatever their ideas, beliefs, or actions. Accept and love them. Feel free to say what you think, but say it out of love rather than out of judgement. 

I'm tired of feeling judged for minor things. I'm also tired of judging others. Let's make a joint effort, whatever your religion or political party or moral beliefs, to stop judging the others who believe something different than you. If you love instead of judge, a bigger difference will be made FASTER. If you judge instead of love, you'll find yourself disliked and you'll find your opinion discarded. Think before you speak, love before you judge. Thanks. 

-christie

quick summary : poem format

Oh, you know. Just a quick summary of a regular morning in Bray, Ireland. In poem format, of course. 

Cold morning, white snow
Hot fire, soft glow
Good book, steaming tea
Thick sweater, set of keys
Big snowboots, woolen mittens
Windy coast, bench to sit in
Numb fingers, view of the sea
Watering eyes, hard to read
Scalding drink, flushed face
Deep breath, beautiful place
Stand up, smile wide
Look around, grey seaside
Wandering feet, nowhere to go
Cold morning, white snow.