Happy Anniversary, Kenya

Two years ago today, I arrived in Kenya. I remember the tearful goodbye with my parents in Chicago, reading the entire 7th Harry Potter book on the way here, and being surprisingly cold when I got off the plane. I remember being exhausted the next day trying to set up my household, and I distinctly recall the frustration of "not feeling like I'm in Africa" within the bubble of the school grounds. Fresh friendships went through their normal fits and starts, as did my involvement in new activities. I was confused, disconnected, and struggling (and probably not a whole lot of fun to be around). I knew God had brought me here clearly, but now that I'd arrived, I wondered about His reasons.

School started, bringing a little routine and predictability, but I hadn't realized what a huge role reputation plays in being a teacher; my students had no idea what to expect from me, so even my job felt shaky. Friends from other seasons of my life came through on visits, and that added a little stability. They suggested I visit Karura Community Chapel, which I'm still grateful for. However, when I joined a small group there, I caught the mumps at the first meeting.

That was the real low of that first semester- housebound, feeling crummy, then feeling fine but still housebound, then feeling much worse and in and out of the hospital. God used it on lots of levels, of course, but the most significant was this: I had written off the Rosslyn community as isolationist expats, but they loved me and cared for me and sacrificed for me when I was sick. I had to recognize their kindness and genuine Christian character; it made me a little more willing to be like these people.

I got to go back to the US for the end of my recovery, and that reaffirmed the truth that I belong in Kenya. "The trouble"- the postelection violence- happened while I was in DC with my parents, and I was anxious to return and be present to my students and the new friends I had made. Karura pulled an IDP camp out of thin air, taking care of hundreds of displaced people and eventually helping them resettle in new homes. God blessed Karura to do that well, and He continues to show favor to us as we care for our neighborhood.

Slowly I adjusted, building relationships with Kenyans through Karura, adapting my teaching to the context of Rosslyn, buying a car, choosing to stay in Africa for the summer. Climbing Kilimanjaro was a HUGE highlight and the accomplishment of a life dream. And by the time my second year started, I was ready to be a host, be a welcomer, be a bridge for the newcomers. God kindly gave me many likeminded friends in that group of new teachers, and I started to settle back into who I know myself to be.

So now it's been 2 years. I've gotten to travel to phenomenal places, and I can honestly say that I like living here. My Swahili is rudimentary at best, and I still struggle with the balance of being called to this expat community and to the much larger country outside of it. But it's good to be challenged to live well, to continually seek God on what He wants your life to look like that day. I take comfort in the idea that it's not a mistake that I'm here, with all my history and personality and quirks and opinions. He's shaping me by this place and using me to shape this place. He's the craftsman, and I am confident in His work.

So happy anniversary, Kenya. I'm glad I'm in this relationship with this place. It's been an eventful and intense few years, and I can't say I'm sad things have leveled out a bit (though it makes for more boring blogging- sorry, readers). I'm looking forward to the adventures the future holds, and I trust the Hand that brought me here.