Balancing sorrow and joy

Life here has been really heavy lately, and it's hard to know what to write about, or how to write it.

Some things are really too awful to even be discussed, but here are some highlights (or lowlights) of this lenten season we find ourselves in.

In what should be the rainy season, we have had almost no rain at all. This means crops will almost certainly fail, which means people will go hungry, and that more and more people will show up at our door, asking for food, work, help...anything.

It also means more illnesses.

It also means more funerals.

One of our good friends was recently fined by the village for not having a toilet on his property. He does not have a toilet because he cannot afford it, (they use their neighbour's), so he was basically fined for being poor. We paid his fine- which was minimal- but he needs a toilet. This is a basic human right.

One of our other friends is ailing and may be dying. He lives outdoors, and I would assume he has chronic malaria. He seems to be fighting an infection, but resisting treatment. I am not sure how much longer his body can hold out. And I'm not sure about the state of his soul.

Another man in our village has been very sick for some time. He was able to get treatment and medicine, but is still too sick to work, and is relying on the charity of others to keep food on the table.

On top of these things, we have good friends and family members who are fighting constant battles with malaria and typhoid, a friend who was robbed, a friend whose house is falling down around him and his four children, and many, many people- too many to count- who want their children to go to school, but cannot afford to send them.

Last week, Abram threw me (Ashby) a surprise party for my birthday. I felt so loved and celebrated, with a tinge of guilt- I'm sure most of our friends here have never had a birthday party of any kind. But our friends enjoyed themselves, enjoyed the cake and popcorn, and Abram pointed out that our village needed some kind of celebration, something to bring joy and laughter into these dark days. We can choose guilt, or joy. We can experience both sorrow and joy- they are not, apparently, mutually exclusive.

At the end of each day we relax in our home, which is much too big, and we eat food- we always have enough- and we play with the worlds' cutest baby, and we go to sleep under a secure mosquito net, under a secure roof. We don't feel guilty for these things- they are blessings from God- but we wrestle with the normal questions: why us? why them? why?

And we go about our routine, Abram teaching and researching, Ashby nursing, cooking, changing diapers, answering the door- and the not-so-routine, like when our car acts as an ambulance and our living room acts as a sanctuary. And we hope in our baby's future.

David continues to be a blessing to people. Our neighbours have begun calling him 'a child of the people'. Half a dozen women call him Grandson, and he may or may or may not think he has six parents. A common sight in the mornings is for a neighbour, or Abram's Tanzanian sister, or whoever happens to be at our house,  to be walking around with David in their arm- as they water our tomato plants, or carry ladders from our garage, or talk on the phone, or answer the door. We are thrilled that David will hopefully grow up to be comfortable in our community, and to know our family here. We are also pleased that people can take comfort in him- what is more therapeutic than a baby who trusts you so completely that he relaxes into your shoulder and falls asleep?

Maybe this is why God gives us children.

catching up, part 2: you want to live where?

So you guys know I love Abram, right?

He's pretty dreamy. He treats me really well. Also he makes good smoothies. Also, this:

See? You'd fall in love with him too. But you can't; he's taken. 

I guess my point is that it wasn't very hard to fall in love with him. We were both in Nairobi, we both love Jesus and Africa and kids and books and avocados. We had so much fun together no matter what we were doing. He was there for me when I really needed him. He makes wise decisions and treats people well. Everyone thinks highly of him. It was so perfect: We fell in love and dated and got engaged in Kenya. We were living out my dream life: meet a Christian guy who's already in Africa.

In Nairobi.

But there was one teeny tiny catch and, I'll admit, when I first met Abram I was basically in complete denial of this: Abram is a doctoral student, and his research topic for his dissertation is based in…

Tanzania. (Where?)

He's committed to living in Tanzania for the next 2+ years, serving with AIM and researching and interviewing and writing his dissertation. And this is a problem for me, because I…I love Kenya.

I mean everyone knows that.

And most people know my story: for ten years, I have been working on starting a home for orphaned children in Nairobi, Kenya. I spent the majority of my time in Oregon, fundraising and networking, and traveling to Kenya once or twice a year. In 2012, the board of my non profit decided it was time to send me to Kenya full time to the home (finally!) up and running.

This was an answer to prayer. For a decade, I have felt that my heart was in Kenya, and wanted to be there, to get Visible Grace going, to work with kids who needed to be loved. It was finally time! Sort of.

When I met Abram I knew God was blessing me even beyond what I'd asked for. I got to move to Kenya! We opened the home and started taking in kids! And then I met Mr Perfect. I really had it all.

Except I didn't.

Abram and I started talking about marriage really quickly. During our whirlwind of romance and life (running a children's home and finishing a doctorate program- no big deal, guys) we talked a lot about our future. We have similar passions and visions- I desire to educate children, so they grow up well, and he loves educating and equipping African adults, so that they can in turn equip others. We have different fields, but we really desire the same thing.

Abram spent about 10 of the last 14 years teaching at a Bible college in Tanzania, and this is where he chose his research topic for his dissertation. (Two years ago he decided to go back to school himself, to get a Ph.D. He just so happened to choose a college in Nairobi…) While he finishes his dissertation, he's also teaching at the Bible college here. In Tanzania.

In not Kenya.

Like I said, we spent a lot of time talking about our future. We felt like we had a few choices. Except I really didn't feel like I had a choice at all:

~Not marry Abram
~Stay in Kenya and make him abandon his studies
~Marry Abram and follow him to Tanzania

This was a really difficult decision for both of us. I didn't feel ready to let go of my dream job; Abram didn't want to see me hurt and grieving. It was also hard because I felt like the Lord had only just allowed me to move to Kenya and see get Visible Grace up and running. I had been waiting so long to see it become a reality. Was He really taking it away from me so quickly? Or testing me to see if I cared about the love of a man more than obedience to God? (Yes, I really wondered that.)

Here's the thing, though: Visible Grace was up and running. We were seeing it become a reality.

So the choice wasn't necessarily taking away from the ministry. In fact, at the moment VG is thriving- without me! Abram and I are part of the board and are in touch often. We have a Kenyan manager, which I think is important. We plan to go up several times a year- it's a day's drive from where we live. I miss the kids, but really, everyone is thriving right now. It's possible this is exactly what was needed in order to take this thing to the next level- to help it move beyond me.

But it was so hard, you guys. Excruciating. At first I felt like I was being asked to choose between my first born child and the love of my life. (Seriously- I raised VG from its infancy and worked on it 24/7 and it kept me up at night and consumed all my resources and time and was my baby. Tell me that's not like a baby.)

Throughout the entire process I could feel God's hand at work, and I knew that, for whatever reason, this was what God wanted me to do. To step back from VG, to leave the city and country I love, and to follow Abram to Tanzania. I'm still figuring out why, and what that looks like, but I am confident He's leading me in the right direction. (Tanzania, by the way, is fairly similar to Kenya. Not a huge change.)

Another step in this decision was to join Africa Inland Mission, because Abram is a missionary through them, and we want to be on the same team. This step wasn't really as big a deal. AIM is a great organisation full of great people. It also provides me with stability I haven't had before, like…infrastructure. And health insurance. This move also took me off Visible Grace's payroll, which is fantastic for VG financially, and enables us to save up a bit, for exciting things like…a new sceptic tank. I know, I know- why don't I blog about that?!

So. There's my 'confession'. I have been toying with this post for months, because a lot of clarification was needed, and a lot of people don't really know where I live or what I'm up to. (Some people think we live at the children's home, and for the record, that was never part of the plan. I think the kids deserve African parents, and I think we deserve some privacy in our first year of marriage.)

I'm still not thrilled about being here, some days. But that's okay. Because this is home for now, with Abram, and we'll figure it out together. We don't know what our next step will be, or what God has in store for us. But for now, we're here.