His Plan is Always Better Than Mine

Phil and I were scheduled to return to Kenya for another long stay. We planned to head over in May of this year, and then pushed it back to November. Then when Phil started working for a company again we knew our long trip wasn't going to happen. But I could still go.

I was planning on flying over for the first week of November. We had tickets already, just needed to move the dates a bit.

I really really really REALLY wanted to go. I didn't have a full plan of what to do other than spend a couple days on our water projects with Until Then and Freewaters, but I could easily find things to fill my trip.

But it didn't feel right.

A lot of times, well most of the time, I have a personal agenda I'm pushing for wanting to do something. Sure, I already had the plane tickets and a place to stay, but there was no real reason for me to go (other than not wanting to lose the ticket). Because I wasn't working I had the time, but it also meant we were on a tighter budget and going to Kenya for a week would be pushing it financially.

I was praying about it and seeking advice, but I just REALLY wanted to go. I love Kenya, and you probably already knew that about me.

I had it worked out to go by myself and meet up with friends at Mattaw Ministries (sponsor one of their kids for $35/month!). But then I had a dream.

Dreams are how God captures my attention, which must mean I need to listen when I'm awake.

I don't remember the dream now, it was about a month ago, but I recall sharing with Phil that the message was loud and clear not to go to Kenya. And I was bummed. I can't think of a better word for how I felt. Just bummed.

About three weeks later I was offered a job and it was perfect timing as we struggled meeting our tight budget. In the back of my mind, and on my heart, I was still trying to justify going to Kenya. Maybe God would change His mind?

East Africa (roughly)

If you've been following the world news you're familiar with the current famine crisis in East Africa. Global headlines on the situation in Somalia started in August, the UN estimating 29,000 children died in a few weeks time. Slowly we're hearing famine is realistically affecting Ethiopia, South Sudan (which gained independence from Sudan in July) and Kenya, too.

The famine is caused (and increasing) from a number of factors, including political instability, drought, corruption, war and disease.

So you can guess that I was even more pumped up to get back to Africa and do whatever I could. I already kind of had tickets... even though by this time I had cancelled them.

And then this week in the Kenyan news we've heard nothing but targeted terrorist attacks against American/European tourists, generated from a distantly-linked Al-Qaeda group from Somalia. My father in law was scheduled to go to Kenya in mid November and he canceled his trip, and he's gone to Kenya during some of the worst possible conflicts you could imagine.

I would have been in Kenya right now if I had stuck to my plans. In addition to the target I'd be for an attack, can you imagine the financial cost it would have been to change my ticket to leave, have to stay at hotels near the airport and travel back and forth from the embassy?

My point in sharing this with you is that my God didn't want me to be in Kenya right now, and I didn't understand why not until a few days ago. I couldn't imagine why He had called me to serve in Africa and help street kids, but not want me to go to Africa to help street kids. But praise the Lord, He had other plans and they were beyond better than mine.

There have been several prayers this year that God has answered with a "no/not yet" that have come to fruition, but I'll save that for another post.

Praying for those effected by famine and terror,

Dalene

PLEASE help!

Sign this PETITION to help street kids in developing countries.

What About the Homeless?

I started working a couple weeks ago at the local Boys and Girls Club and I love it. It's the perfect job for me: I get to play with kids all day and get paid for it! When I lived in Texas I worked at a branch for a few months until Phil proposed and we started our life together. The club in Texas I actually attended when I was in 2nd grade, and it was at that club where I was first introduced to racism (outside of my family, who hadn't been as openly racist that I recognized at that age). Racism, I've observed, is something passed down from generation to generation, instilled as a belief in young people by their parents and grandparents. I look forward to not passing that belief on to my children, though realize they will probably learn about it from friends (as I did).

Anyway, the club I work at now is a dream. An ocean view in the distance and a beautifully kept park full of adventurous kids is where I am employed, which is so unique for an organization that traditionally services low income families. Racism isn't an issue here, and neither is bullying or stereotypes. There is still need though, mostly emotional support and security from children left to raise themselves through the internet and materialism... so fairly normal for North America.

What struck me the other day was the abundance of opportunity that the Boys and Girls Club affords its children, no matter where the location. Children have a chance to meet the President of the United States and are selected as recipients of education grants and afforded amazing opportunities.

And then the tears came.

What about my friend Daniel in Kenya? He's about 11 years old and has no security or comfort in the world. He was left abandoned years ago (I've known him for 4 years) and has been raised by various aid organizations that see him rarely as a child but as a statistic of poverty. I wish there was a Boys and Girls Club in his town where he could go for a snack and play games that will help him develop into a functioning member of society.

But there's not.

My struggle this week is realizing not every child in the world is a child. When I'm frustrated with 9 year old Billy at work for giving me attitude and being disrespectful to his peers, I have compassion with him in realizing that his behavior is modeled from his culture. But maybe in 10 years Billy will meet a Daniel, and he will remember his childhood at the Boys and Girls Club and will create one for the homeless youth of the world.

Ever Hopeful,
Dalene

To Serve

Between January and March I spent a lot of time in the hospital, mostly visiting my husband who either needed an emergency surgery, was suffering a fatal something or other, experiencing painful side effects of treatment... all in all I was in the hospital with him (or myself) on probably 17 different occasions, some of which I've tried to forget. Praise God, Phil hasn't been back to the hospital for an emergency since then.

On each of those 17 visits I remember a sense of panic that I didn't want Phil to think he was alone, to know that he was loved- and so it was with urgency that I would rush to whichever room he was in. Of course I was comforted that he was already in the hospital so any care he needed would be administered, but I was worried about his emotional health. Having been treated in a hospital myself, I remember clearly the presence of loneliness as I sat in the room, wondering who, if anyone, would come through the door next. Even an hour by myself felt like a dark existence of despair. It was that memory of being so lonely that I didn't want Phil to experience.

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I've been reading books lately, usually have 2 or 3 going at once, and the pages of each are filled with testimonies of community overcoming individual darkness. In a couple books, there are stories of visiting victims of disease in their dying moments, and sensing a power of hope midst despair. It was reading these pages where I realized I've missed something huge in my own life. A disappointment flooded me and visions of visiting Phil in the hospital overwhelmed my thoughts. I remember being in the ICU with him in the small hours of morning, his parents also there. And then around that memory I see all the other ICU rooms, the floor quiet except for heart monitors and breathing machines. Hardly any other visitors were there.

I had missed 17 different opportunities to serve.

I wish I had stepped outside my selfish desire to be with Phil and visited the sick that had no one. I don't have any memories of visiting victims of illness in their affliction, other than family. I don't reach out to strangers who are probably experiencing the darkness of despair and loneliness. How hard would it have been for me, on those 17 occasions, to walk in to the room next to Phil's and offered to serve someone with another pillow? Or a cup of apple sauce? I easily did it for Phil, I'm sure it would be just as easy to do it for someone else.

Everyday we miss opportunities to serve others that are in our life. The slow old man at the grocery store who takes forever picking out his lettuce, I bet I could help him!

In my Christian faith we believe that God made Himself a man to serve humanity, that we might do the same. "Love your neighbor as yourself", it's all about service.

I'm going to do my best this week not to miss opportunities to serve those around me.

Will you join me?

Ever hopeful,
Dalene

P.S. please sign the petition from our previous post!

change.org

petition the adheisive industry 

The adhesives industry: Add nasal irritant to glue to stop kids from inhaling their products 

There are 150 million children who live and work on the streets of our world. Many of them use inhalants to dull their hunger and ease the pain of their difficult lives. The adhesives industry can add a nasal irritant to their adhesives formula which would prevent children from inhaling their products. This simple formula change would save millions of lives while not changing the efficacy of their products.

If you've seen the film "Glue Boys" (you can order it to the right of this post if you haven't yet), then you have seen why this needs to happen. Please click here to sign the petition!