Tag Archives: Busyness

Stillness of the Soul

Two three day weekends (thanks to a UK holiday followed by a US holiday) and a delay in the lovely process of bureaucracy has resulted in me landing in Kenya three days ago while my fiancé waits in London for his passport to be returned. The good news is that the visa was approved, but the visa process and waiting for the passport to be available for collection has been a bit of a patience game.

So, plans to jump right into ministry have been delayed; and instead I’m enjoying the hospitality of friends who run a children’s home near Nairobi while I wait. I must admit that the American side of me finds having no schedule, no job, and no responsibilities a bit disconcerting. I’m in limbo, unable to plan, unable to fill my day with things that keep me from having to stop and honesty look at my life.

Sometimes the stillness scares me.

It’s ok for a day or two. I’ve repacked my luggage twice, spent time playing with some of the kids, and have even been able to get some wedding planning done. But, as everyone else has schedules and responsibilities; I currently have none so I spend the majority of my day alone.

Today I read Henri Nouwen’s The Way of the Heart. Eighty-four pages of pure wisdom. I felt convicted, encouraged, challenged, and feed all at the same time. This slim book somehow manages to unwrap the purpose of solitude in such a simple, beautiful way that it’s hard as a reader not to be changed by its profound counter-cultural message. Stop and be still.

But we’re afraid of the stillness.

It’s easy to see busyness as a good thing, but Nouwen shows that a certain amount of silence is essential to one’s spiritual life. Yes, we may fear the silence; but we need it in order to truly understand God. “We move through life in such a distracted way,” Nouwen writes, “that we do not even take the time and rest to wonder if any of the things we think, say, or do are worth thinking, saying, or doing.”

“Solitude is the furnace of transformation,” Nouwen argues. “Without solitude we remain victims of our society and continue to be entangled in the illusion of the false self… In solitude I get rid of my scaffolding: no friends to talk with, no telephone calls to make, no meetings to attend, no music to entertain, no books to distract, just me—naked, vulnerable, weak, sinful, deprived, broken,—nothing. It is this nothingness so dreadful that everything in me wants to run to my friends, my work, and my distractions so that I can forget my nothingness and make myself believe that I am worth something.”

When it’s all stripped away—when it’s just you and God—it’s easy to see how small you are, how sinful, how, broken. But, as unpleasant as it is to be stripped of the props that we cling to in order to provide routine in our lives; it’s mind-blowing to experience that—while God is a God of order—He is not a God of routine. He has more in store then just the comfortable. He’s not interested in our busyness. He is interested in our soul, in a relationship, in more then what tradition and culture have to offer.

So I’m taking some time to stop—to ignore the nagging feeling that I must go out and do something. Time to stop and evaluate myself, my heart, my motives. It is scary because I don’t always like what I find when in the stillness I stare into the brokenness of my soul, but as Nouwen so insightfully points out solitude is the furnace of transformation. The silence allows God to shape the soul into what He wants it to be. A painful process, but one that produces eternal result. A process that transforms one from doing for the sake of doing to—being, existing, feeling life, and finding true purpose.

Be still my soul

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Filed under Contemplations, Kenya, Travel

What do you do Anyway?

“So, what do you do?’ she asked as we sat sipping chai and killing time until lunch was ready.  It was the second or third time that week that I’d gotten this question from visitors stopping by the children’s home where I volunteer.

“What do I do?” I thought. Here I was talking to the nursing director of the entire Kijabe Hospital. To someone as busy as her, I’m sure my life looked fairly mundane. Well, today I was spending the morning entertaining guests that I had no idea were coming until I saw a car drive up the drive way. “Every day is different,” I answered. How do you explain being on call 24/7, starting your day at 5:30am but then having the kids gone for the majority of the day? Some days it does feel like I sit around all day, go for walks, and just exist until the kids get home. Other days I’m so busy that I barely have time to breathe and fall into bed at 8:30pm only to have my alarm jolt me awake telling me that it’s time to do it all over again.

As an “auntie” to 17 children, ranging from the ages of 6 to 17, I do everything from braid hair to clean up throw up. I cook a little, clean a little, help tutor the kids, try to teach them what it means to take care of their things (a never ending job). I pick puzzle pieces up off the floor and beat the living room rug after a weekend leaves it filled with enough dust and dirt to fill a sandbox.

What do I do? On Mondays usually do laundry which involves a couple of buckets, some Omo, and a whole lot of clothes pins. But, I don’t have to do the kid’s laundry. Mama Jane (my hero) does that. That woman is amazing. She can get the entire house mopped, the kids laundry (a literal mountain) washed, and cook a mean pot of rice (another mountain), all before lunch.

Tuesdays are town days. Catch up on emails and usually blog while we have fast Internet, stock up on fruit from the fruit market, and get some somosas (sometimes the only meat I get all week). Wednesdays are worship Wednesdays. We’ve been teaching the kids new songs, and I absolutely LOVE hearing them sing their hearts out when we worship. Thursdays are mandazi Thursdays. We head into our little town of Maraigushu to go to the local eating spot for some chai and mandazi (a doughnut type food just not as sugary). As we walk to town we inevitable end up walking with the local neighborhood kids on their way to nursery school. They like to grab our hands and by the time we reach the school we’ve usually collected a nice little string of kids. Friday is movie night. One of the kid’s favorite days of the week. We pop in a movie, sometimes Richelle makes popcorn, and we enjoy some family time.

The weekends are always a blur. Our cook doesn’t work on the weekends, so my Saturdays start at 6am. I get up, heat up water for the man who milks our cow, and then I typically start making pancakes. As the kids wake up, the little kids trickle in the kitchen to “help” me. I usually start burning the pancakes when I have 6 kids hanging on me, but most days the majority of pancakes turnout alright. The kids usually work in the shamba (garden) for awhile in the mornings. I typically braid one or more of the little girl’s hair (always a long project). Sundays involve church, sometimes walks, and whatever else happens to happen.

Then it’s Monday again- beautiful Monday. The kids head off to school. I typically clean up the kitchen and living room area, and it stays clean for the rest of the day! So that’s what I do. That and clean up bloody noses, put on a lot of band aids, give lots of hugs, and just live the day being flexible and taking care of whatever comes my way.

“It’s an emotional job,” Ruthann reflected the other day. “Not a job that can be easily measured.” Some days I do feel like I spend the majority of the day chilling, reading, doing whatever, but then the kids come home and I think, “What don’t I do!”

What do I do? Some days I’m still not sure, but I love it being here for the kids, watching them grow, and doing whatever needs to be done in a day.

Walking to town for mandazi Thursday picking up a string of kids as we go.

Walking to town for mandazi Thursday picking up a string of kids as we go.

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Filed under Contemplations, Kenya