Change

I (Heather) think I'm just beginning to sense the scope of transition that our lives have gone through in the last month.  I'm sitting here in front of a beautiful, roaring fire (it's in the low 50's here at night) trying to make sense of everything that we've seen and experienced in the last month.  I haven't written anything thoughtful lately because it's been hard to know what to write.  My mind feels so full.

Of change.  

There's the practical side: lots of little differences in our daily lives add up to a big adjustment.  Very little in the grocery store looks familiar.  The power goes out.  The plumbing is different (if there is any).  No clothes drier, no dishwasher, and a completely different house.

And there's the experiential side.  Traffic is less than orderly, and while we aren't driving ourselves, it's still tiring trying to make sense of it.  We see building after building made of concrete or mud bricks, bars on the windows and doors, tin roof on top, sometimes cheerily painted, but certainly no nice little two bedroom vinyl-sided ranch-style homes with flower beds out front in a nice neighborhood with sidewalks.  It's a challenge to comprehend an almost entirely different way of life that we are now surrounded by.

A few more big changes are happening on Monday.  Aside from Faith heading off to kindergarten, two Kenyans will begin working for our family.  Hannah will help me inside every morning Monday through Friday, as well as two additional afternoons every week, and Edward will be taking care of our yard three days a week and will also start a garden for us.  We've known we would be hiring two workers to help with the additional daily effort that is required to live in Kenya, but we really hadn't decided what to think about it until just the last few days.

You see, it's a bit strange to come from the states as a low-income family to be one of the wealthiest families around.  Yep, in Colorado, because of the size of our family, the salary Jim received as a teacher, and my choice to stay home with our children, we qualified for heating assistance, food assistance, and healthcare assistance.  That was one way the Lord provided for us and allowed us not to worry over our finances, and we were thankful and never ashamed.  And here we are in Africa, probably at the same level of frugality (by American standards), on the other side of the spectrum.

On our first full day here at the school, it began.  A knock on the door.  "Hodi?" (Anybody home?)  A Kenyan man introduces himself and lets us know he is available to work in our yard for us.  We tell him we are new and we will think about it, but we want to wait a little bit before making a decision.  More men come each day.  We have written the names and phone numbers down of eight or ten men over the last week.  Some return, a few days after our first meeting, wondering if we have made a choice.  Most have no work at all right now.  They each hope that we will choose them.  They each hope that we will be the ones to help feed and support their families, send their children to school (school is not provided without cost here, nor is it required: it is a privilege), and maybe a little more than that.  All of a sudden, we find ourselves wondering...

How can we choose only one of them?

And we find our hearts have turned from pride in our abilities,
We've always enjoyed, and have been capable of, gardening, cooking, and keeping up our home.

To humility in the role we will play in these two lives, that we were first so reluctant to accept.  
We'll be their employers.  Their whole livelihood.  Probably for many more people than just themselves.

The Lord has provided us with great material wealth, and while our expendable income is far from endless, a little goes a long way here and we've been given a big job to be good stewards with what we've been given.

Suddenly, it doesn't seem too difficult to step aside and allow myself to be served in my home and to be helped with all of the simple, yet constant, needs around me.  Yes, I can do dishes and chop up vegetables myself, but Hannah would also be honored if I allowed her to do it.  Jim could keep a wonderful garden, but Edward will be happy when we enjoy salads and vegetable from the garden that he planted and cares for every week just for us.

We will be blessed by spending time with them, becoming friends, hearing their stories, and letting them teach us a little more about living in Kenya.  And we will be blessed by the lightening of our load here in Kenya.

While this change will certainly be challenging, and I'll probably just want to "do it myself" at least a few times,

I can't help but feel 
                                that this change 
                                                           will be good.