Living My Memories

How much of our lives do we simply allow to pass us by? How often are we actually thankful for each morning that we wake up, take in a deep breath, and get out of bed? How often do we forget that our time here on this earth is limited?

I don’t intend to sound morbid with this. But, for myself, I need to remember. I need to remind myself that my life is limited. My time is limited. And there is so much that I am missing.

This has been more and more on my mind as my time here in Kenya comes closer and closer to an end. I’m at the two month mark when I will board a plane and leave this beautiful place that has taken me in and become my home. My time here has been so short. Lately, I’ve found that I pause during some of the more ‘mundane’ aspects of my daily life here, and just pause to soak them in.

I find myself sitting at the dinner table with my host family and just staring at their faces as they talk and laugh and listen to the news.

I find myself on a matatu, listening intently to the blaring reggae music and gazing out the windows at the shops, vendors, and passersby of Kibera. 

I find myself standing at my friend’s vegetable stall after purchasing some produce, after the conversation has ended, simply looking at her face and the rest of her wares for sale.

I find myself thrilling at the normal, comforting sights, sounds, and smells of the streets in my neighborhood as women fry samosas, men laugh in the bars, and children run down the road.

I find myself enjoying the forced ‘study breaks’ when my little buddy, Fadhili, runs into my house to play.

And when I enter these moments, it feels as if the whole world slows down for a few seconds as I take everything in. A heaviness of emotion fills the air, and it’s almost as if I am seeing the heart of the moment, the truth behind the ordinariness of the scene. It’s as if I see it in its true form.

And when these things happen, I realize that I am living my memories. What is happening today will, in just a few short months, become a memory. And everything about this place, no matter how big or small, is worthy of a memory. I want to remember it all. I want to live these memories to the fullest that my heart and mind and soul are capable of. 

And I realize that there are countless moments that I have missed. There are thousands of memories that I have allowed to slip past me. Unseen, unnoticed. It's as if I've deemed certain moments of my life unworthy of remembering. 

And I don’t want to allow myself to do that anymore. This life that we are given is too short to take it for granted. It is said that Christ came to give us life, and to give us life abundantly. Have I been too nonchalant, too laissez-faire with the wonderful, priceless gift that I’ve been given? Lord, let it not be so!

So, while my time here is coming to an end, and I am striving to live all of the memories that it has to offer me, I pray that I won’t forget this. That I won’t forget the preciousness and the beauty of life in all that God created and intended it to be. And in all that He created and intended me to be in it. For He is far too good, and life is far too good, to be unlived and forgotten. 

Marvelous Monotony

Have you ever sat down and thought what you’re doing is not enough?  That somehow your soul has become sluggish and your heart has withered up like a leaf during the last throes of autumn.  That your motivation has evaporated and your dreams have become mirages on the distant horizon, just visible enough to make you believe that they’re still there and yet hazy enough to doubt their reality.

I have.

I find myself thinking thoughts like these from time to time.  Wondering what I’m doing, how I can go on in the same way day after day.  Wishing to be a part of something fantastical, something extraordinary, wanting to change the world.  Hoping against hope that someday, things will become dynamic, change will become apparent, and I will be freed from the monotony of everyday, stagnant living. 

But, if I’m honest with myself, I know it won’t.

And for a dreamer, for someone who sees the potential of the future, this is a hard reality to accept.  I wrestle with it in my innermost thoughts and in the depths of my soul that I so often try to avoid.  Dreaming, wishing, hoping that the utopia I’ve seen can become a reality and that I can be a part of the movement that brings it into being.  And yet knowing at the same time that it is beyond my grasp.  It becomes an unbearable irony, to have such hope for a new world and also seeing the impossibilities.

Sometimes it feels like a terrible burden.  To wake up in the morning knowing that it won’t be today.  That the next 24 hours will not mark the shift from an era of violence, inequality, corruption, poverty, and death to an era of peace, equity, justice, sustainability, and life.  And yet hoping against hope that it would.

It’s easy to become discouraged, seeing the negativity and darkness displayed in the news, on TV, in the papers.  To hear stories from friends about government corruption, police brutality, discrimination, and the loss of life.  It’s easy to fall into despair, believing that a new, brighter world couldn’t possibly come to being.

But then, I hear the excitement in the voice of a slum school manager as she talks about starting up a girls’ football (soccer) team in her community.  I see the joy in a friend’s face as she receives the small change needed to buy a snack from a nearby shop.  I hear the gratefulness from a sister at the promise of receiving a helping hand with her school assignments.  I witness the relief and excitement of a woman finally getting the legal rights to her land that she’s been fighting for over the last 5 years.

And I realize that life is not nearly as stagnant as I thought.  That each seemingly monotonous motion, each normal act of care and kindness is in fact a movement in and of itself.

It’s not a new thought, nor a very novel one.  Many people have said that change starts with the individual and through day-to-day living.  But, just because it is well said and well-known does not make it an easy thing to live by.  For the dreamers and visionaries, for those passionate about seeing the world change for the better, it can be a terribly hard notion to accept.  And with our ever globalizing world and achievement driven society, it’s hard not to want to be a part of something grandiose that will leave a mark on the world.

But the world is such a big place, such a large entity, sometimes difficult to comprehend.  With 7 continents, vast oceans, and billions of people, how can one person leave a visible mark?  We are each only one person in one specific place for such a short point in time.

And yet, that’s it, isn’t it?  We are each one person.  And the world is made up of people such as us.  What better way to leave a mark on the world than to leave a mark on the people around us. 

Thus, each monotonous motion, each normal act of care and kindness, each part of our seemingly stagnant lives becomes a movement.  A movement that takes place inside each of our souls.  It’s movement from believing that these simple actions are irrelevant to believing that each action sparks change, leaves a mark, and brightens up the world, even just a little bit, in that very place, in that very moment.

It’s a movement from seeing myself as the greatest agent of change to realizing that I am only a small cog in a far greater machine.  And that this is in fact better.  If there was only one person working towards a better world to come, it would never happen.  It would be impossible.  And that’s where the murmurs of my heart were true.  I can’t be a sole world changer.  And life won’t necessarily become anything that appears extraordinary from afar. But, with others equally desirous of such a future, working together, all of a sudden impossibilities become possibilities.  And monotony is no longer so monotonous.

See, the Kingdom of God is something we often talk about and believe to be in the distant future.  It’s easier to accept that it will not come until the End Times because then we are not responsible for doing anything about it now.  But, we also say that the Kingdom is present.  And I have seen this and know it to be true.  So instead of simply talking about the Kingdom being here, can we actually do something about it?  Can we abandon our selfish-ambition, our desire for notoriety, and humble ourselves to actually make a difference?  Will we choose to live a simple life with the people around us, as Jesus did, and impact others to create a better future?

I have to fight an internal battle daily.  I have to fight the feeling that makes me believe that my actions are insignificant and not fantastic enough to make a difference.  I have to struggle against my own ambition and pride and choose humility and service. I have to choose to believe that by being a positive impact in the lives of those around me, I am part of a movement towards a better world, towards making the Kingdom a reality. 

And while sometimes I lose the battle, on the days that I win, I can see the mirage slowly fade away, dreams come into focus, and the future become reality.  I see the Kingdom come to life both inside my own soul and in the souls of those around me.  In the marvelous monotony of everyday living. 

A Larger Family

It’s been far too long since my last blog – apologies! Life has been hectic, as my masters program comes closer and closer to an end. Only seven more months left of living in this wonderful place that I now consider home.

And I do consider this place a home. Having lived here for fully one year, it has taken on a unique familiarity that I wasn't sure would happen. Walking on the streets, the sounds and smells are familiar. Street vendors recognize me, and I know their names. I exchange greetings with acquaintances and friends as I go from one place to another. I have cravings for local foods and I've gotten so used to hearing the Muslim call to prayer, that I barely register it anymore. And when I've left Kibera for a while, when I’m returning and we reach a certain turn in the road, I feel internally a sense of calm contentment that only comes to you when you've arrived home.

I have family here. Genuine, loving family. I know which foods they love and which foods they hate. I know what time they’ll arrive home in the evening and what time they’ll leave in the morning. I know whose laundry is whose. I know all of their smiles, all of their laughs. And all because they opened their home and their lives to me. We've lived together for one year - eating together, cleaning together, traveling together, being sick together. We've cried together, laughed together, prayed together. We've shared our hopes and we've dreamed together. When I first came, I was a stranger in almost every way. Yet, they have warmly and graciously allowed me to become a part of their family, and I am overwhelmed by it daily.

This family, my family, along with many other friends that I have made, is what has so strongly endeared me to this place. The bonds we have made are much deeper than what I imagined when I initially moved into their small home a year ago. Although there is so much that could have separated us – language, culture, history, socioeconomics, lifestyle – there has been a beautiful openness and willingness to learn and grow together, to foster friendship and kinship, to love one another. And that simple, humble love has changed me.

While I love my family back in my Minnesota home immensely, my heart has expanded to love this family as a part of my own. But family is more than biology and genetics. It always has been. We are all part of the human family and as Christians we are part of the family of God. Recognizing and acknowledging that is one thing. To live it out is something completely different. My family here has shown me what it is to love as a part of a larger family, a family that has no boundaries defined by geography, ethnicity, culture, language, income, education, or social class. They've shown me something far more valuable and lasting than anything I have seen during my time here.

Family was always meant to be greater than the one that I was born to. Before, it was merely a theoretical concept, something my head understood, but my heart didn't. Now, that family has a face, it has a certain smile, it has a distinct laugh. That family has a heart - and it has stolen mine.