It’s a new year, so how ‘bout we reconnect? Before I knew it, good ol’ 2011 was taggin’ 2012 into the ring, the hospital was re-opening, surgeries were underway, and then I was on a plane to Ethiopia. Seriously… out of control. But now having the chance to breathe in a good supply of new year air, I felt like this blog needed some attention.

The 12th of January marked eight months from the day I boarded a plane for Kenya. And now that I’m in the home stretch, the beginning of this journey is getting farther away in my rearview mirror, and the details are blurring into each other. Life in Kijabe has lost a lot of it’s newness, as the unfamiliar has now become the norm. It reminds me of when people first got an iPhone (and yes, I mean “people,” as in “not me”). There were so many things to explore, and their fingers couldn’t scroll through the capabilities fast enough. Then you see them a few months later, helping you find something with their digital flame, not even giving a second thought to why a phone would have a lighter app. So in a way, that’s where I’m at right now. I’m familiar with all the “buttons” of my job, and I rarely do double takes on what I encounter. Another day, another case of clubfeet, bowed legs, burn contractures, extra fingers, fused toes, backwards limbs, etc.

We had a team visiting a few weeks ago, and the majority of them had never been to Africa before, let alone seen the kinds of disabilities our kids have. Being around them was like taking a trip back to square one, the place of constant intrigue and curiosity and wonder, where everything is ahead of you just waiting to be discovered. Now, by no means have I discovered everything here, not even close. And I still experience intrigue, curiosity, and wonder, but it’s definitely changed from the kind I experienced back in May. And then there are the days where something really out of left field happens, and you go from feeling like a veteran to a rookie, enveloped in undiscovered territory. Reminds me of the game Chutes & Ladders, you know? If you don’t, don’t even worry about it. My mind colors outside the lines quite a bit.

So in honor of this new year, I figured I’d try and whittle down a few lessons & memories from 2011 in hopes of bringing some things lost in the rearview mirror back in focus:

• Investing in someone, no matter the outcome, is the wisest investment you could ever make.
• David: My first CUREkid. I’ve been at every one of his appointments and in both of his surgeries. I’ve witnessed his pain, his joy, and most emotions in between, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Before I leave, my prayer is that God will let me see him really run for the first time in his life.
• Climbing Mt. Longonot was one of the coolest things I’ve done here. I highly suggest putting “climb an old volcano” on your “things to do” list.
• Monkeys are only cute until they rip through your trash and don’t clean up after themselves. They’re just kleptos, every last one of ‘em.
• Win Joy: By God’s grace alone, she came to us with bowed legs and left with straight legs, and the privilege of capturing that will always be a highlight. Like my prayer regarding David, I hope God will let me see Win Joy’s healing all the way through.
• After coming back from my trip to CURE Malawi, all my Kenyan co-workers kept saying, “Oh Jenny, you were lost for so long.” Well I knew where I was, so we’ll just agree to disagree : )
• My first bout with Giardia, which, up to this point, entailed some of the most humbling moments in my life.
• If you ever wonder what sort of things you can possibly transport using a motorcycle, come to Kenya.
• One of our Maasai patient’s mothers wanted to give me a bracelet off her own wrist. But when she took it off hers and tried to put it on mine, it didn’t fit, since the bracelet is roughly the size of a napkin ring. But as I tried to reassure her that it was fine & I was thankful for the gesture, she literally pulled me over to the sink in their hospital room, ran my wrist under the faucet, doused it with soap, then white knuckled that thing on me. She looked very satisfied, and my hand looked very red.
• If you can step into the confidence of knowing who God made you to be, there’s no limit to what can be accomplished. So in the absence of leadership, know that the Leader of the universe lives inside you, and then become the leader you see a need for.
• Every day that you neglect God is a day you’ve invested in the enemy.
• I hope I never get to a point where holding a child’s hand isn’t completely disarming.
• John: He’s an 18-year-old kid who came to my first clinic in Mombasa, a city on the coast of Kenya. He has severe burns on his hands and face, and although we scheduled him for surgery, his parents wouldn’t agree to let him come. We tried for months to change their minds, then finally, they fell off the map completely. I will always remember the feeling of losing that battle and realizing that out here, even our kids’ own parents are sometimes the factors that keep them from treatment.
• Reagan & Ceciliah: Reagan was a CUREkid who passed away before even making it to Kijabe for his surgery, and Ceciliah was a CUREkid who had had her operation already and passed away just before her follow up appointment. Reagan contracted some sort of illness, and Ceciliah contracted meningitis and malaria. On both occasions, I was out of the country visiting another one of our hospitals, and I will never forget receiving those emails or the swift kicks to the heart that followed.
• Even though I didn’t understand one word, I loved attending the Sunday church service we hold for our patients in our playroom. Worshiping alongside your disabled brothers & sisters will do wonders for your soul, I promise.
• The first Kenyan wedding I attended, the rings were in a basket that was lowered from the ceiling with a string. Yep. Real life.
• If you really love God, then you’ll find yourself more concerned with His happiness rather than yours.
• I was able to surprise friends of mine who were on trips to Kenya not once, but twice, and the blessing of that is beyond words. My name is Jenny, and I’m addicted to surprises.
• Making friends with the kitchen staff is one of the best decisions you can make. Chapati my body.
• When the US Women’s Soccer team played Brazil in the quarters of the World Cup, some friends and I splurged and went to an actual restaurant with an actual TV and actually convinced the waitress to turn it on. And when the US pulled out their incredible victory, we actually became those Americans and completely lost it.
• Every Thursday night indoor soccer game. Outside of work, it’s been my favorite weekly activity and is the source for the majority of bruises and cuts on my body.
• I feel like in order to be a good photographer, you have to master the skill of capitalizing on the smallest windows of opportunity. A great shot can open up, and then you blink and it’s closed. On top of that, you have to see and predict it before it ever becomes a reality, a.k.a. be prophetic.
• Swahili… you say it like it looks and write it like it sounds. Simple, yet so elusive at times.
• Go ahead and purge the phrase “on my own” from your vernacular. As a Christian, it makes absolutely no sense. John 8:29
• If you don’t think you have the qualifications you need for a role, but God puts you in that role anyway, understand that the Holy Spirit is your qualification.
• When “home” becomes a fluid concept, God graciously reveals the only things worth holding on to: Him and all the people He’s blessed you with.

Obviously, May through December contained more lessons & memories than I could ever fit on here, so I’ll stop while I’m ahead… at least ahead of your willingness to read any more. If you’ve been tracking with me from the beginning, I’m beyond blessed by your commitment. If you’re just now joining the party, welcome. And if you’ve decided this is the last time you’ll ever read anything I write, ouch. Regardless, I believe journeys are better when they’re shared, so no matter what capacity you’ve shared in mine, thank you. Finally, here’s a little somethin’ I read on the wall of the medical director’s office today, here in Ethiopia:

“Live as if Christ died yesterday, rose this morning, and is coming back tomorrow.”

:::Martin Luther:::

Having fun with one of our Ethiopian kids, Tsega

Originally posted at: http://nashipai.wordpress.com/2012/01/19/long-time-no-see/.