Today, we went and visited one of the schools they support in Kibera. Afterward, we walked down the railroad tracks that go straight through the center of the slum.
Last year, I wrote about what it was like to confront Kibera for the first time. Kibera left me feeling broken a year ago. But this time, it was different.
This year, the people picking through the trash on the side of the road didn't catch my wandering eyes.
This year, I ignored the dozens of kids calling out for me, begging to hold my hand, looking for just a little bit of attention from the mysterious, white visitors.
This year, I pushed through the masses of people, annoyed they were in my way, not even bothering to look them in the face.
This year, I wished the team would walk a little faster, talk to fewer people, break their gaze a little sooner- just so I could get home to the guesthouse.
This year, I drove out of Kibera and didn't even look over my shoulder at the stacks of rusted tin and waste that hundreds of thousands of people call home.
As we drove out, I wondered whether or not traffic would be bad and what we would be doing that evening. But after a moment, something else caught my attention- 3 people in the backseat of the car were singing their hearts out to God of This City, burdened by the immense need they'd just witnessed. I realized I was singing along, too... but out of habit, completely unaffected by the day's happenings. And in that moment, listening to those 3 women worship, I realized that I was wrong.
I don't know exactly what is different this year. Maybe I've let myself become numb to the poverty that I see everyday. Maybe I've let the small frustrations like interrupted plans, cross cultural misunderstandings, and failed lessons get the best of me. Sometimes, I'm just tired. A couple of times I've woken up in the morning, looked at my Bible, and wondered if I could make it to the end of the day in one piece if I didn't even open in (I can't, in case you're wondering).
But then this NDI team got here. They made me remember what it was like the very first time I set foot in Kenya, anxious to see and be a part of everything, ready to be broken if it meant furthering the Kingdom.
They reminded me that it's not okay for children go hungry. Serving food is both exciting and humbling when you realize that the kids might not eat otherwise.
They reminded me that, sometimes, you just need to get into tickle fights, dance and twirl with little girls, and hold as many little hands as you can. Because, really, you don't know when those little faces will have smiles that big again.
They reminded me that, at the end of the day, I should be tired. I should be broken. I should be begging God to move in the lives of the people I have encountered. I should have a changed heart. And every morning, I should wake up ready to be broken and poured out all over again, because Christ is so incredibly worth it.
So thank you, to the NDI team, for the fresh perspective you have offered over the course of the last several days. Thank you for being eager to come and ready to pour yourselves out. I know many of you have been praying that God would change your hearts- but I'm just glad that He used you to change mine.
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