I think I need to take a moment to be quite honest. Sometimes, I try to be braver than I am. But I'm really not brave at all, I don't think. So, as you can imagine, I often find myself pretending. A little honesty is needed here today.
I feel immense pressure being here. It's a pressure that I have created, and I do not know why I created it. It's not fun. But I feel like because so many people have given me money to come here and because God picked me for this job (of all the freakin' people He could have picked...) and because people are telling me how envious they are and how I am going for them and how I am going to have a great time... I feel like I have to do a good job here and I feel like I have to always be strong and brave and smart and honest and patient and all of these things that I am sometimes not. I look back at those words I just listed, and I'm thinking that maybe it's not a bad thing that I try to be those things. Now I just feel silly.
Today, I visited the outreach center here in Kisumu. From what I understand, it happens once a week, on Wednesdays. It's a place for the street kids to come and get some food and (i think) shower and here some of God's word. These kids do not live at Agape. I'm not sure if they know God or not. All the boys get pat down before they are allowed to come inside. And as I walked inside the gate, I was swarmed with kids. I had kids grabbing my hands and my arms and my hair and my face and touching me and yelling at me and, to be quite honest, it was all a little overwhelming.
I'll take that back. It was really overwhelming.
This is where I get stuck. I want to be here. I don't quite know what I've gotten myself into, but I want to be here. But the truth is, I am scared. Terrified. I need to say that. Because I hold it to be true, and because I don't know whether I can talk about it or not because I do not want to be a coward. I sometimes revel in my cowardice. I hate that about myself. I actually sat down inside and cried like a little wuss. And I feel so freakin' stupid. I cried, not because I was heartbroken, not because I was in pain. I cried because I am scared. Because I am a wuss and because I am small and because I am scared. I am scared to be here and I am scared that I am not going to fulfill this thing that I need to be fulfilling because it is a really big deal to be here, and when you do work like this, it matters what you say and how you act and whether or not I really believe and love the Jesus you say you do. It's the biggest test of faith, for me. To step up and rise to this challenge that has been presented to me, laid before me. I cannot do this on my own. I can't do anything on my own. But for whatever reason, I feel like I'm supposed to, and that's not really right, now is it?
Needless to say, I am still feeling a little under the weather and I'm tired and I'm homesick and so I'm sure that sets my emotions on high, which could affect why I had such a strange reaction. I always thought I would be so quick to jump in. But it's different here. I can't explain it. I am quick to feel uncomfortable and quick to cower and quick to hear the devil's voice and I am slow to see the truth and hear the quiet whisper of God. But I know that He is here. I know He is here like I know that I am here. I see him moving and breathing in the warriors that walk these streets in the name of God and in the name of Love. And these people are just people. Just bruised and broken masterpieces**. Just boys who just need to fulfill the need to be loved, to be worthy, used, and good. It's a need that exists in all of us. And when you think about it like that, it's really not that scary, right?
I'll end it with this, because it's making real sense to me lately: My last Sunday night youth group thing in California, we had a worship night/prayer time. I took a walk outside. I remember I was feeling very scared and very heartbroken because I was getting ready to leave and because I was going to miss my friends and so I cried. It was windy outside, and I like the wind because it feels like God's breath all around me. I remember telling God that I wasn't ready to go to Africa, that I couldn't do anything like this because generally mess up everything I set out to do, and because I am small and because I am only one person and because I talk a lot about being faithful and loving, but I am not sure if I am these things. I remember saying, "I can't.. I can't.. I can't." I used to say those words all the time, when I felt Satan controlling my soul. Those are the words of the unfaithful. I remember my soul being loud and my brain not really being very helpful, only saying things that were not good for me. But I felt the breath of God in the wind and I heard His voice. And he said, "you can because I can." (I think it's silly to type out what God says. Little letters trying to live up to the words of God... that's funny.) So there it is. I can do this not because of my own strength. Not because someone said it would be fun. Not because I'm not good at anything else. I can do this because God can do this. And me and God are a pretty good team, I think. Mostly because of God. He is like David Beckham and I am like... the poo on the soccer field or something. I'm pretty useless. I kind of just run back and forth. God scores all the goals.
But I'm here. And that's enough for now. I'm going to go take a nap because I'm still feeling pretty sick, but I'm on antibiotics now. At least I don't have TB or something. :)
Oh, and I would also like to say that I miss milk/juice that have the easy-pour spout things. Here, we have to cut a flap in the boxes that our liquids come in. This creates sort of a "glug-glug" thing that sometimes makes the liquid go places it shouldn't go and it makes me sad, because all I wanted was milk on my cereal and juice in the cup and not on the counter or my shoes or my clean shirt. So enjoy that common luxury, America. I'll look forward to it when I come home. :)
love and miss you all dearly. (95 degrees in Sacramento.. SUCKAAAASSSS!)
**"Economy of Mercy" by Switchfoot
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