Bread, Butter, and Jam

Days 18 – 19

"God provides me with words to speak every day and He provides me with love for the people here. I want to stay. I want to stay."

There were a lot of questions, thoughts, and I learned a lot just within these two days. I had one month left in Kenya and the reality of leaving was hitting me a little harder with each passing day.

This was the last day I was teaching devotions for the older kids in the morning, for I would provide the teaching to the little ones until the end of my stay. As I was speaking (too short and very simple like always) on the parable of the Lost Son found in Luke, God literally broke my heart for every pair of eyes staring at me.  I found myself begging them to hear the words of God. It all sank in and my desire was for them to accept Jesus’ grace and find joy in Him. Powerful stuff. The whole time Bea and I were responsible for the student’s devotions, I/we could never figure out what to speak about until the night before and sometimes 30 minutes before. Jesus gave us words at the right time and I was learning to trust Him more each day with that task – He always came through to guide my words. It was then that I learned how God can use a quiet, timid girl and anyone (really) to fulfill His purpose in this world. 

Helping Mama Nora with kindergarten was the next step. Whenever she stepped out of the room, the children would flock around me as I worked; touched my hair, giggled, and smiled at me. I wanted every touch to communicate the love they deserve. Who knows what their home situations were like? My thoughts and prayers continue to be with them.

Apart from the usual happenings of a day at Mwangaza there came a bus full of Europeans. Now, being the only white people at the school this event took Beatrice and me off guard. My subconscious was saying, “White people? This is weird…”, but my brain was prodding, “What’s so weird? You are white too…if you haven’t forgotten.” Being a girl with hidden competitiveness, the feelings I experienced at that moment were self-righteous at the least. I mean, I had been at the school for a week and a half, I knew the teachers pretty well and how the school was run, I had taken time to learn the culture and I dressed like the natives. I was superior to these visitors, and I had a right to be, correct? Oh! So very wrong I was to think those thoughts. This attitude continued as I stood back while the visitors were greeted and the students gathered to appease their curiosity – some with looks of disdain and some with excited glee. Bread, butter, and jam were brought out along with some tables; a gift for the students from the new visitors. I quickly made myself useful making sandwiches with the other teachers as Pastor played “paparazzi” (I teased him about his sneaking photo taking often) with his camera. As we tore the sandwiches into smaller and smaller pieces to accommodate the large amount of students, my self-righteous attitude continued, “What difference is a tiny piece of sandwich going to do for these children?” As shameful as I feel for those moments of internal  unrighteousness, I think it was an important lesson in two ways: 1)it answered the question about why we took so much time to learn the language and culture, why we dressed the way we dressed, and why we were trying our hardest to be respectful of the people around us. 2) It also reminded me of how broken and wicked I can be, especially internally. Sure, I might not make huge mistakes that everyone can see, but internally I can be as wild as a storm and as impure as a sewage drain. Pastor stated, “[they] did such a good thing” during dinner that night. A punch in my gut could only describe the shame that quiet rebuke gave me, yet God was still quick to remind me of the grace and forgiveness He had already given. He can use anyone - even a khaki clad tourist.Who am I to say what makes a difference?

Our day at the school ended with a dear girl, Lois, inviting me to play some games with the older girls. Kicking off my sandals and play tag until my face turned red (which was a new topic for the girls – I was asked why my face was red at least a dozen times). It was a joy, a way I could let my hair down and connect with the girls. I was so filthy that I had to shower as soon as I got home.

This particular evening was a joyful one. It was Friday, and I had such an uplifting day. My spirits were high and it was great that Bea was feeling similar. Pastor had an old guitar that needed restrung, and after I fixed it, he played a couple songs for us. Blessings was ecstatic as she danced and shimmied her way around the room to the beat of the music. It never ceases to amaze me how music brings a quiet understanding between people no matter who they are. These moments in life should never be forgotten. We laughed our way through dinner just listening to Mama and Pastors words of encouragement. “Don’t aim to please others, aim to please God and God will work through any and every situation. We have to do our part regardless of whether we think we are making a difference or not. We just do.” Pastor continued telling stories of God’s faithfulness to him personally and it was so good to hear his wisdom.