Response

It's easy to see life a little bit differently after you have lived in a poverty stricken country. I think that, for some its easier than others to come back to (for most) a comfortable living situation, with a roof over your head and a refrigerator filled with food that may go bad before you can actually eat it. I think that it is also sometimes too hard to come back and not have dreams (both the night and the day time ones) about what you've seen or stories you have been told about people you have met. I have been home for more days then I could possibly count, but I sure can count how many days I was in Masii. There has been an array of different responses since my return, "well you are such a good christian because you went", "you are disappointing Jesus by not being grateful for being home", "you are such a good missionary", or "you are so strong for living through malaria". All of these responses make my skin crawl, seems odd? Well its true. I have written before about not feeling like a missionary, how I would give anything to be in Masii again, and how utterly horrible malaria really was.

Recently, I have had the privilege of being in the company of a family who is not my own who some how gets what I feel and their response has simply been to listen, whether its to complain about something superficial or to really feel my heart as I express how much I love my students in Masii or how beautiful the clouds are as I attempt to paint them a picture through my words.

Sometimes after I leave a conversation with them, one where we talked about how I am feeling, about what is going on in my life, or about how as much as I love their kids I would give my right pinky to being with my kids in Masii. And somehow they get it, I don't know if it's because of their own kids that they get it or because they just know, but its true.

My parents have always brought up about how I am in my "zone" when I am in Masii, as I skip with Faith to church or I hug on kids in the church. At first that comment made me feel weird, like I was different or not normal. Then last summer, I got it, as I stood in front of my class, and as I walked Annett home from school, and as I picked up Faith from school, and as I visited a mentally disabled school, and as I held the tiniest baby I have ever seen, I got it. I understood that, no way in heck, am I normal, no way in heck am I the same as someone else. Nope, not me, I am different. I have a different sort of rhythm to my life.

I have this weird thing about me (weird because everyone else thinks its odd), I love children. If I have met your kids, chances are I see Jesus in their eyes, chances are I wanted to pick them up and kiss their noses, chances are I would love to spend 5 minutes with them listening to them tell a story that only makes sense to them. I am going to school to be a teacher, but that's just a title for me. It is so much more than that, I love to listen to kids tell a story about owning a horse big enough for an elephant to ride on, or about a silly joke they cant wait to tell me and I don't understand it but I still laugh because they think its funny.

People have always thought that my loving kids is odd, or I do it because eventually it will be a part of my profession. Yet for me, I love it. I love not knowing the next thing they are gona say or even they next thing they are going to do. I love that the best gift I can receive is when a parent not only trusts you to babysit their kids but looks you straight in the eyes and says "we trust you". For my heart, that is the most incredible thing I can be told.

As I meet people who live 9,000 miles away who have no legs because they were amputated, or people who have literally nothing, or who have given up their kids because they cannot take care of them, or moms who have to work twice as hard to keep their babies alive, as I have meet these people I realize their is nothing wrong with them or they do not deserve this. But these kids, their kids, those kids are the same as kids here, they want nice things, they don't really want to do homework (they wanna play outside), they want to eat cookies and juice all day, they want to jump on the couches, and scream when they laugh. These kids at some point learn either one of two things, either they learn that Jesus is their hope or they begin to believe that their may be no hope. obviously knowing their is hope is Jesus is the best outcome because it is living in truth.

My grandma has always said that the only thing she ever wanted for her kids and grandkids was that they know and love Jesus. Every time I have heard this, I giggle a little because I know she is serious. I recently realized how true this is and how much I know agree with her. All I hope for, for everyone I have encountered in Masii (and everywhere) is that they see Jesus and that they know him and learn to fall in love with Him every single day. I want every single kid I have ever met in Masii (and everywhere) to grow up and know that Jesus is their hope and HE can save them.

If you have kids, or know kids, or want kids, know that they are truly the light of Jesus, Know that everything you say and do helps (or hinders) their grown. Listen to them, hug them, kiss them, keep them warm and remind them of how much Jesus loves them.

I have met kids who have can't live with their parents because their parents cannot take care of them, or kids who eat the food they hate but are given at school because that is their only good for the day, or kids who live on the streets because they dont have a home. We as people of "privilege" or rather those who have more than most of the world, we have the chance and the privilege to love and cherish the people and children who have nothing. We have the chance to be Jesus to them.

Our response should never be how great we are but how good Jesus is.