Weeks 7/8: 2016 in Review

2016 is a year that many, I am sure, will be happy to leave behind. World events this year showed that we are indeed in turbulent times. There were times when I was tempted to despair. Even now, when a beautiful, sparkling young woman from my home church suddenly passed away, despair seems like the only rational option. 

But when I look back on my year, I am optimistic about the world. I have hope. I see God working in my life and in the lives of others. I see God's kingdom coming. I see people working faithfully for the kind of world they want to live in.

This year I finished my Master's degree. I spent the first part of the year completing my final project, which was on agritourism as a rural development strategy in Nova Scotia. My studies gave me hope that there are still some who care about rural areas, who care about the land, and who are working for its benefit. Amidst school closures, poor infrastructure and other barriers, there are those working for the good of the small and remote places in my beloved provinces. And this gives me great hope.

This year I spent a lot of time with the students of YWAM Truro's Discipleship Training School. This gave me hope, to see young people faithfully serving Jesus and following him to, as the DTS was aptly named, the ends of the Earth. I loved joining these ones for their weekly community night and volunteering with the refugee sponsorship initiative.


This year I continued working with a group of people in the Truro area to bring a Syrian refugee family there. I learned a lot that I would have never known without being part of this project. I got to meet a lot of people who are also welcoming newcomers, and I got to attend my first Eid celebration. I have hope for my country of Canada, as I feel like I am learning what is essentially Canadian: the joyful welcoming of the newcomer

I took a trip with my sister to Scotland and England this year. This is a trip we had been saving up for since I had my first job in high school! And there are moments from that trip, like bicycling on the moors in the Peak District, going to a Pentecost service at Christchurch Cathedral in Oxford, or watching Les Miserables in the West End of London, that I will treasure forever. Not to mention all the memories I made with Mary, who is the best traveling companion. This trip gave me hope, especially the visit to Christchurch Cathedral. You know we really experienced the Holy Spirit there that day. It made me think of the different churches I have been to all over the world: from the little white chapel at Malagash to a country church in Mozambique. God is global, and not restricted by service styles or buildings or languages.

This picture is an accurate depiction of my general feeling on that trip to the UK!

I saw some good friends get married this year. Weddings are always an occasion for hope. Because what faith these ones have, to plunge into lifelong commitment to another, all because of this faith they have that love can withstand all that life may throw their way.

I got really into The Bachelor and The Bachelorette for the first time ever. This was probably one of the things this year that robbed me of hope actually.

I got to hang out with some awesome teenagers as part of the youth group at my church. This gives me hope for the future. I am thankful for young people who do not just go to church because they have to, but go because they want to. These kids are not afraid of thinking of deep questions, and addressing tensions of their faith. They are not afraid of welcoming many people into their community. The youth are not only the church of the future, but they are really the church of today.

I am officially THE WORST at selfies

I spent a lot of time at camp this summer. The ways this gave me hope are countless. I got to see kids who never knew Jesus get to know him. I got to see staff work well together, displaying what a healthy Christian community is. I got to see volunteers develop leadership skills. If you ever lack hope, visit a Bible camp. There you will find hope and faith and love, in spades.

My favourite photo of the year

I got to preach at my church this year. This gives me hope for the church. The power of the patriarchy is no match for the power of the Gospel :)

I read a bunch of good books this year, many of which gave me hope. I think the best book I read this year was Alistair MacLeod's No Great Mischief. "All of us are better when we're loved." Also I read all of the Harry Potter books for the first time.

I played a lot of Monopoly, frisbee and tennis with a now-nine-year old boy. Of course this gave me a lot of hope, as spending time with children tends to do.

I was a part of organizing Colchester Local Food Week, the first event of its kind in good old Truro. That was so good! I have a hope for a community where people have access to nutritious food, and where people at all stages of the food system make a decent living.


More life highlights:
Camping at Fundy National Park.
The new library in Truro opened.
Lots of hikes, bike rides, rock climbing, and even snowshoeing.
Trivia nights at the Nook and Cranny.
I made my own kombucha

Finally, I am now in Kenya, where I get to do meaningful work as part of a great team. I am writing this on my phone now actually, in a cafe in Diani Beach, where I am spending the Christmas holiday. When I began the year I could have never predicted that I would finish it lounging on the shores of the Indian Ocean. But I have hope, because God does have a plan. I am certain that I am meant to be in Kenya at this time. I am certain that he has a plan for the people with whom I work here, people who live and die in the shadow of Mount Kenya. God is good, and his mercies endure forever. 

Hakuna mungu kama wewe

A few years ago, I think in 2011 or 2012, I was at an InterVarsity retreat. It was a while ago, so I do not remember which retreat or where it was but I remember hearing the song "Hakuna mungu kama wewe." We sang this in worship sessions. It is a Swahili song, and the title translates to "There's no God like you."I remember being in that worship time and having this deep desire to one day sing that song in Africa. Of course, at the time I had never been to Africa and had no plans to go.

But of course in 2013 I spent three months in Mozambique. In fact at that time I did hear that song when visiting a little country church one Sunday: but it was in the Makua language so sadly I could not sing along. But it brought me great joy at that time.
Now, I learned a lot when I was in Mozambique, but one of the things I learned, or thought I learned, was that working overseas, at least in the linguistics context, was not for me. This was neither a disappointing nor relieving conclusion for me. I just thought maybe I was meant to stay in the Maritimes. And that was alright with me.

But not even a year from when I arrived back from Mozambique, I went to Cameroon. I still can't believe how that happened. But without trying particularly hard, I landed back in sub-Saharan Africa. There in Cameroon, I saw national Bible translators and literacy workers do amazing things, and in my mind it was cemented: they don't need me here. It is most effective to stay at home.

So I threw myself into helping my home province of Nova Scotia. I studied Local Economic Development with the goal of somehow contributing towards the sustainable development of rural areas in Nova Scotia.

OK all this to say, I somehow ended up in Kenya today. I somehow ended up in the yard outside of our office, with my amazing Kenyan, Canadian, and Indian coworkers, singing "Hakuna mungu kama wewe" with 20 street youths from Nanyuki. And somehow I feel like this is it. Like years ago when I had that desire to be singing that song in Africa, like that was prophetic insight to this moment. Because there truly is no God like our God. Before we sang that song, a pastor was speaking to these youths. He was telling them they are fearfully and wonderfully made. He was telling them that God loves them. And you must know, these ones, they are among the most vulnerable and the most marginalized. They are some of the poorest people I have ever known. But to worship with them: that is heaven. That is what Jesus is talking about when he says "The Kingdom of God is at hand." This is the desire that God placed in my heart, some years ago. I cannot really express how beautiful and meaningful that moment was for me. Because though I cannot understand it, God somehow knew I would be here. He somehow wanted to give me this gift to see His Kingdom coming in this little corner of the world. And there are still so many problems. Hearing the stories from some of these youths, I again feel helpless. But at the same time I feel hopeful, because of our God. There is no-one like our God.

Week 6: Advent

It's beginning to look a lot like... Jamhuri Day.
As I scroll through social media feeds, I see photos of Nova Scotia, Ottawa, and other places in Canada experiencing a lot of snow. I see photos of Christmas parties and Christmas trees and other things that seem very far removed from where I am now. All the trappings of Christmas are missing from life here in Nanyuki, and at the moment I am not missing it at all. The commercialism of Christmas in North America makes me really uncomfortable. Here, in the absence of festive distractions, I feel like I can better reflect on what Christmas means.
It means that God cares.
God cares for you.
God cares for the world he made. He did not forget it. He did not forget the precious ones he made. He cares about everyone. We see the people Jesus cared for as he walked this earth: He cared for the ones who were outside of society, like the poor and the lepers and the prostitutes. He cared for women. He cared for partygoers and rich and powerful folk, too. He cared for children. He cared for those easily confused disciples.
This is what Christmas means: it means that God did not forget us.
As I reflect on this past year, I am astonished at a theme running through the year for me. The theme of my life this year has been: I am learning how much God loves me. Which seems obvious. That's the first thing they teach you in church: Jesus loves you. But to really truly deeply know that is another thing. I still think I don't really know much God loves me. I think the theme of my life will also be learning how much God loves me. Because he loves me so much, and I am always discovering in new ways how true that is.

As I am learning more about God's love, I feel really desperate for everyone else to know, too, how much God loves them. And that's Christmas. God cares for you. God wants you. God has not forgotten you. God knows you. I have developed an obsession with Mister Rogers this year, and there is this song he sings called "It's You I Like." You should look it up. I think that song could just be God singing to us. So friend, I want you to know. God loves you. That's not just a platitude. That's truth.

Looking back on my year, and thinking about Christmas coming up, I think we have such a cool opportunity at Christmas to show others how much God cares. In fact I have a few ideas of how you can use your money to show God's love to others.

This Christmas, you could show someone how much God cares by donating to help a refugee family come to Canada. More and more, I am realizing that hospitality is such a huge way to show love. Showing hospitality to strangers is really at the center of our Gospel. For we were still sinners, and Christ died for us. I am learning that hospitality is more than just welcoming someone into our home. It is welcoming someone into our life.

This Christmas, you could show a child God cares by donating to a summer camp. This summer, I got to spend some time at both Kingswood Camp and Malagash Bible Camp. Anyone who has worked at camp can tell you that the campers who come are often really desperate for love and acceptance. Camp is a place where they experience God's love.

This Christmas, you could show a family God has not forgotten about them by donating through the Chalice gift catalogue (or even sponsoring a child!). Here in Kenya, I have seen firsthand the impact of the work of Chalice in the lives of people experiencing poverty. While the financial help families receive is important, I think the most important thing for these families is knowing that someone, somewhere, cares about them. The other day we visited one of my absolute favourite people here in Kenya, a woman named Susan who runs a home for orphans and street children just outside of town. She gushed with praise for our office: "Whenever I go to that office, I come away smiling and feeling good. They listen. Other people don't listen." That is the real value of Chalice's programs. Yes, the economic development and the nutrition programs and child sponsorship and so on are vital. But I think what really counts is that people know they are cared for. They know they have someone to come to with their problems. They do not feel alone. They feel hope.

So anyway, enough preaching. Here are some photos of my past week here.

Microfinance group meeting

Nutrition training-- people were so engaged! They were answering questions from the facilitators, asking questions, and taking notes. I think they learned a lot.

On the weekend I attended a wedding of a couple I had never met (a friend had invited me to come the day of-- I was sort of obviously out of place!)

Some wedding traditions were different than at home, but some, like the throwing of the bouquet, were just the same

On Sunday a few of us went for a long walk. It was so great to be in nature, a little farther away from town. I am officially in love with Kenya.

Week 5: Exhausted

I know the tone of most of my posts has been pretty joyful so far, and as they should be: this has been a really joyful experience so far. I love the work I do and the people at the office. I love that we get to be part of lifting people out of poverty. I love meeting people whose lives have been changed through child sponsorship, microfinance, and agricultural programs. I feel like I can see God working daily. And that's beautiful. I also love the town I live in. It is small enough that I often run into people I know on the streets, but big enough that most people are used to foreigners being around, and brewed coffee and western food is available for when I really need it. I love that I can see Mount Kenya from just outside my house. I love waking up on Sunday morning and hearing singing from the nearest church. I love the warm climate and the fresh mangoes. I love the adventures I have daily in my life and work.

That was a long introduction to say what I really want to say, which is: sometimes I don't love it. Obviously my social media posts and so on are generally positive in tone. But for every amazing experience I have, I have a hundred mundane or embarrassing or lonely or disappointing or difficult or uncomfortable or scary or overwhelming experiences. Living in new cultural context, away from one's support system and frames of reference, is not easy. It seems obvious to say that, but sometimes I need to remind myself of that. It is not supposed to be easy.

It is supposed to be like this. It is supposed to be incredibly difficult and yet incredibly rewarding. There are supposed to be tears, but not without a lot of laughter. It is OK to miss home. It is OK to not understand a lot of things. It's OK to feel lost. It is supposed to be exhausting.

And this week has been exhausting. On Sunday I was exhausted from the long church service with dubious theology. On Monday I was exhausted from getting caught up in a presidential rally, birthday celebrations, and necessarily late-night Skype sessions. On Tuesday, I was not so exhausted, but I did do a lot of walking, so physically I was tired. On Wednesday, I was especially exhausted from waking up at 2:30am to catch a matatu to Nairobi, navigating the city, getting vaccinated, meeting people, experiencing the legendary traffic jams, and finally making it back home at 11:30pm. On Thursday I was exhausted from Wednesday, and I also became exhausted after hearing the life stories of a few people here.

Since I was already exhausted, it was pretty emotionally taxing to hear those stories about orphaned children with nowhere to go, sick children with no money for treatment, or children who had been sexually assaulted. And I don't mean to complain. My emotional stress from hearing this is nowhere close to the trauma that these children are experiencing. But there is a feeling or powerlessness and helplessness that comes when hearing these stories. I try to think of solutions to problems, but solutions don't come so easily. And I know I am not big enough to solve all of them. I am exhausted knowing that I cannot solve the injustice of this world. All I can do is pray. For though I am powerless, God has power. I need to trust that. I need to trust that he will intervene to somehow make these people's lives better. I believe God is a compassionate God, and he is not causing suffering. I believe he will stop suffering.

Even though life here is exhausting, I would not give it up for anything. Of course there are days when I wish I could just watch Netflix or drive my car or go to church without worrying about blowing out my eardrums. But I think of those lines of Brave New World and they are how I feel: "But I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness, I want sin." I would rather be exhausted from encountering injustice in the world than be insulated from that injustice. I would rather face the challenges of cross-cultural communication than only have relationships with those from my same culture. It's worth it. It's worth it because I can continue to learn how to see the world for what it really is. It's worth it because I am with the people who Jesus loves. It's worth it because through this, Jesus is showing me how much he loves me.

Thankful for birthday celebrations!

I am learning to embrace the life of the chameleon: adapting to whatever circumstances I may be in

A little glimpse of that infamous Nairobi traffic