I remember there was a point when we were walking through a village that I realized I was staring at my shoes. I was staring at the white tops of my gray converses, and watching the sand rise up with every step I took.
Why wasn't I looking up? Because I didn't want to.
A part of me (and I guess the overwhelming part of me) didn't want to see the bare feet of the children, the ditches by the side of the street for their sewage, the red and green shops where the moms were carrying their babies on their backs. I didn't want to face real world truth. I was scared of my perspective changing. I was scared of change. But, that was so silly. God knew what He was doing when He brought me there. I was here for a reason, and to learn. So, pushing my head up, I saw... Smiles. Giggles. Held hands. Laughter. Conversations. Life. Joy.
The families that we stayed with in Jikaze had run away from post-election violence in 2008. They had nothing. Some families had to leave jobs that had provided for their families. The babies that we visited at the orphanage had been abandoned by their families here on Earth because of different circumstances. The women we visited through the AIDS organization had failing health.
Wealth. Family. Health. had been stripped away. Things I use to define my happiness, and these people didn't have it. And yet, they had a joy. A joy that was untouched by their circumstances. A joy that set them...free.
Living with Esther I saw and felt this joy. Joy in giving, joy in working. We had just gotten back from eating lunch on the bus. And as we were coming in,we smell garlic and fried vegetables. Esther tells us, "Sit. Sit." She brings out in various colored bowl ugali. I remember my bowl being a light blue plastic bowl. On one side of the bowl is a slab of solidified rice that fills us at least half of the bowl and next to it her sauteed greens. I remember at this point, I was concered and soley thinking of how I would be able to finish it that I wouldn't remember until later how much of her own family's food she had just offered to three strangers. We were strangers and yet she still gave. I asked her multiple times throughout those two weeks: "Esther, what is your favorite thing to do here?" She said, "Work. I like to work." And then she laughed.
Esther had run away from her previous village and had completely had to start over, but she was so grateful to be here. She wasn't mad, she was just grateful to God. Grateful.
That was Kenya for me. I re-learned joy. My eyes were opened to see that joy, true joy, is not based on circumstances. It's really not. It's found in Jesus. They didn't say it neccessarily with words, but with their lives.
We visited a woman through the Care for Aids ministry. She is HIV+ and when asked what her favorite verse or passage in the Bible, she recited Psalms 23.
The Lord is my shepard, I lack nothing.
He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths for his name's sake.
Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
I will fear no eveil, for you are with me;
your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Her manna, her life was founded on this Psalm.
And that's the freeing joy.
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