Grateful

Kenya is kicking my butt.  Mentally, spiritually, physically, it requires me to build a new skill or deeper persistence every day.  Last week our housekeeper’s grandchild died.  It is a challenge to me when I see people suffering and I’m crying out to God for a miracle and it doesn’t come.  But it is not fair to blame God.  Most of what I see here are human caused problems.  Government officials pocket money instead of investing it in education, health, or new roads.  But I still want a divine solution!  Can’t He just snap his fingers and make all this go away?  Preferably immediately, preferably yesterday in fact.  It is not my place to know God’s ways and not my place to judge them.  My only job is to express gratitude and try to use my hands, eyes, ears, words, and life to do the acts I want Him to do.  People are hungry so I should try to feed them instead of asking God why He hasn’t done so.  God helps those who help themselves.

 I’m reading a book on gratitude.  Gratitude is the only cure-all pill I know.   The sounds of church music on Sundays filling the streets, little kids screaming “Mzungu, how are you?!” at me on the street and a crowd of 10 of them all wanting to shake my hand, people who care deeply about others, beautiful maize fields, awesome afternoon thundershowers, the amazing stars here at night, encouraging notes from friends at home, chapatti and sikuma and beans.  These are all beautiful things.  And I also have to express my gratitude to Kenya for completely kicking my butt.  Now I know I can survive without electricity, without running water, in a house on my own, that I have ways I can contribute to the world that are meaningful, that you can throw what you want at me and I can handle it, that I can live in another culture, that I can keep my spiritual hunger through hard times instead of turning away in despair.  Life is good.