Birthday.

Today I filled out databases for kids at Agape. I tried to figure out the remnants of years of mismatched paperwork filled out about these kids. They all say different things, like maybe the kid is 13 years old on one page and 14 on another, depending on who filled it out. Maybe their mother is dead, or maybe she is a waitress at the local hotel. It's not holes in research, it's the nature of life here, I think.

I can't imagine not knowing my birthday. I can't imagine not knowing how old I am. Or what my middle name is. If there is a kid that doesn't have a birthday, we make his birthday January 1, of whatever year he thinks he was born. I filled out a lot of "January 1"s today.

I threw such a fit last year on my birthday. Your birthday is the one day a year when you are allowed to feel special or whatever. People don't celebrate birthdays here because no one really knows their birthday. And I whine when people don't recognize mine.

I get irritated when people mess up my name, like if they mispronounce it or something. But at least I have one, a real one, one given to me with a lot of thought and care and love. I can't imagine not knowing my whole name, my real name. Or getting one given to you by people looking through your life in a file.

I will say that the kids that I have met so far are absolutely wonderful. Funny. Kind. They love to help. They love to hang out and joke around. They love to talk to you and it doesn't matter if you are sweaty or if your hair is frizzy. I love it because all the things that matter back home DON'T MATTER HERE. And the stuff that I take for granted, like patience and sincerity and relationships and unconditional love... That's the stuff on the front lines of battle here.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that there are so many things that I hold in high account in life to help determine who I am. It all seems trivial now.

It all keeps coming back to God. Just God, you know? It really doesn't matter what people say, or who stays or goes or loves me or rejects me or hurts me. God knows every hair on my head, even when I accidentally pull one out because I haven't brushed my hair in a while (I left my hairbrush in California). I just pulled another one out. I wonder if God is laughing with me on that one.

See, with God, it doesn't matter if my hair is frizzy or if I smell, the same way it is with the kids here. I know that Jesus is here, and I know that Jesus is in them. I see it, just like I see the sun shining or the bug bites on my arms. It's easy to get caught up in the crap that happens here, and how people wrong you. But I am seeing Jesus here more and more. David conquering Goliath, good over evil, every day. And I love it.

Asante, Nakupenda Sana. (I'm learning!)

be well my friends. Miss you.
Riss