Unprocessed

I haven't updated in a while because I don't know what to write. I feel like my blog posts should have a sense of story, a line of thought (Jessie-fied as it may be), and I can't seem to make a coherent story from what's been going on around me.

How do I tell of a deepening crisis when my exposure to it is minimal? How do I express the observations as an outsider, a new one at that? Is that voice even worth hearing? How do I explain the strange mix of emotions when we send 3/4 of the kids home early because an MP has been murdered here in Nairobi and one mission group is throwing around the phrase "civil war"? And how do I tell it all to you, my distant reader, when I don't want you to panic, I do want you to pray, I don't want to overdramatize, but I do want to authentically express what's happening? How am I supposed to sort it out for you when I can't sort it out for myself?

I live on a compound, surrounded by a wall, guards manning the gates, familiar faces always around, no gunshots in the background. But I do hear a US military helicopter overhead, making its way to and from the embassy a few blocks away. When things are normal, it runs once a week. Since the elections, it's been 9 and 5 every day. Since Friday, it's been twice an hour throughout the day. It's an unnerving sound.

And on the other hand, someone came by my classroom yesterday with a dozen beautiful roses for my birthday. What a gift! But even that had mixed overtones- in Kenya, roses come from Naivasha, a flashpoint for violence right now. The roses were brought to me a few days early because the folks who bought them weren't sure they'd be able to find any a few days from now. Who knows what Naivasha will look like?

Travis and Lydia (parents of baby Meshach whose picture is back in the blog post "Matatu") - they live in Nakuru, and they're hosting several folks in their home who would otherwise be targets for violence. They are safe, and things are calm there this evening. However, as Travis reports, "We no longer mistake calm for peace."

I can't figure out how to respond. I'm an outsider. My skin is white; I'm clearly not of any Kenyan tribe. No one has posted a notice on my door telling me to "move out or else." No one murdered my relatives in the last month. If worst came to very worst, I have another place to go. I have resources to provide for myself. I haven't been threatened. So do I have any right to be nervous? To be traumatized? To be off-kilter because of what's going on around me? Am I allowed to be stressed? I feel guilty thinking about my own reaction when my circumstances are nothing compared many others.

And I do grieve for those around me. I listen to the Kenyan staff members at the school talk about being accosted by men with machetes demanding that they reveal who isn't Kikuyu, who voted for Raila. I think everyone's had the "Nazi Germany" conversation in an ethics class somewhere along the line- if you were hiding Jews, would you risk your own life to save theirs? Those conversations are always comfortably theoretical. Not so for many Kenyan citizens this past weekend.

I want to stand up for justice, but I tread carefully as a newcomer to this culture and these relationships. I hesitate to use passionate words except in prayer. I don't pretend to see a right way forward; I barely have the wherewithal to see what's around me much less make sense of it.

I know God sees. I know God cares. And I know this is where He has me at this point in time. Again I don't see why, but I trust that the desire to please Him does indeed please Him. I pray that He'll show me what He'd have me do hour by hour, whether it be finally teaching about trapezoids (Bob got several oohs and aahs this morning), simply listening to people's stories, or taking a more active role that I don't see right now.

I don't have a pithy conclusion for this post, but I leave you with one of my favorite prayers of late:

You are the Author of Knowledge
You can redeem what's been done
You hold the present and all that's to come
Until Your everlasting kingdom

You are the God of tomorrow
Turning the darkness to dawn
Lifting the hopeless with hope to go on
You are the Author of Salvation

Lord, we don't know where all this going
Or how it all works out
Lead us to peace that is past understanding
A peace beyond all doubt.