Am I speaking English?

What's there not to love about London: beautiful castles, stylish accents, and men in suits and peacoats. Right? :)

On my way to Kenya, I stopped over at Heathrow and planned ahead to make the most of a few hours in the UK. From the airport, I boarded the Local 77 bus to Windsor with my M&S "super whole foods salad with quinoa, lentils and butternut squash"...savoring my last chance at raw veggies for two weeks (sigh).

Windsor Castle

I think I asked for directions a ba-jillion times (what's a girl to do when she can't use her iphone?) Every time I opened my mouth, I got a, "Sorry?" Seriously. Don't we speak the same language? Am I mumbling? Foreign currency always throws me for a loop. I'm actually good at math but you can guarantee plenty of idiot money moments like me standing and waiting for change when they already gave it to me. The weather was very cold and thanks to my friend Shelly's down jacket (which fit nicely in a ziploc bag in my carry-on) I was temperature-content. I almost didn't get off at the right stop. Yikes. "Lost in London"...not a good headline. When I arrived in Windsor, it was dark and the castle was already closed but I wanted to experience something uniquely British: the Evening Service at St. George's Chapel. As you can imagine the church architecture was beautiful. Think: the Royal Wedding at Westminster Abbey (but not that big). The other attendees and I were led into the castle grounds by security and greeted by the clergy at the chapel door. Walking through the halls was a spiritual moment in and of itself. Soft lighting, cavernous ceilings and a sense that many had experienced God in this place. I had done my "Anglican Church research" so I knew what to except from Evening Prayer, a pretty dry service with no music. Monotone reading in proper British accents. Lots of kneeling, standing, sitting, kneeling...stand up, sit down, fight, fight, fight! And despite this unfamiliar style of communicating with God, I still asked him to show up. The reading was from Psalm 69 written by a man who was crying out for God to save him from sinking into the deep waters - fully aware of how his actions had created great damage. Recently in my own life, I had been thinking a lot about how we are all capable of falling like this. We all have the capacity to choose dark over light. But this reading gave me hope: despite ourselves, no matter what we've done, God is there with his love and mercy. For that, I am grateful.

You who seek God, may your hearts live! I so want my heart to live.

After the service, I walked around the quaint shop-lined streets still open for Christmas shopping. I sat down with a coffee and felt proud of myself for even making it there after the previous day's disastorous luggage situation and not knowing my way around the monsterous airport and roads of London.

Next stop: Nairobi, Kenya.

Living on an Airplane

Over the Pacific

Traveling by plane. Not my favorite. The trip started off rocky. Multiple luggage fiascoes resulting in the removal of over 20 lbs. worth of items from my suitcases. Not at home but oh yes, on the scale at the airport before the first leg. Yep, I was THAT annoying person. All the airline personnel were pleasant and even sighed as Julie (my "packing director") and I yanked clothes and books and blankets for orphans - yes, I made sure they knew what was at stake but they didn't budge...not even for 1 lb. Upon arrival at LAX, they said "no way" to my massive carry-on. I had a feeling that would happen. They wanted to check it - which was not an option for me so then came the purchase of a 3rd piece of luggage: a cardboard box with duct tape. The most expensive box I've ever owned. It was possible that they still wouldn't take the backpack because it was honestly over the size limit. Additionally, I asked Virgin Atlantic to confirm the transfer of my other 2 suitcases from United and the answer: not yet. Great. Then I remember that one of them was left unlocked. Super great. I almost panicked - I could feel the heavy breaths building in my chest as I moved stuff out of the big rolling backpack to the brown box. But there was a moment as I was re-measuring the carry-on beast where I got out of my own head. A surprise for me in such a stressful situation. I sensed God saying, "I got this." And I thought, he is like my traveling companion, by my side, giving advice in sticky situations such as this. Kinda like if my Dad was with me, always knowing what to do. And then, I lost my box and found it. And then, I lost my boarding pass and found it. My brain was about to explode and i started doubting myself. Can I really do this? Maybe I'm not cut out for this? If I can't handle luggage, how can I handle transportation in a foreign city? The insecurities poured in. Breathe, Mandy, breathe. I've got this. I almost missed my flight but they checked the box and let me take the carry-on. Phew.

Christmas in Kenya

Five years ago if you told me I'd be going to Kenya - for the second time AND by myself, nonetheless - I would have thought you were smoking something. But indeed... I am going back to Kenya in 13 days! The purpose of my trip is to visit my sponsored kids, Caroline and Collins, spend time with my dear Kenyan Sign Language interpreter friend Judy and see John, an orphan boy who I am sponsoring in school along with a group of American friends. I really believe this trip is meant to be. I hate to use the word "calling". It's so churchy and anyone who knows me knows that the whole "Chrisitian Culture" thing is not my M.O. But it feels like God found me in the crowd, pointed his finger (in a nice way) and said, "Mandy, I want you to go." So I am going. Thanks to a bonus from work and a failed attempt at going to Kenya with a nonprofit organization. I have been eagerly anticipating this trip like Christmas Day (funnily enough, I will be there on Chrismas Day) however, yesterday the anxiety kicked in. A slight panic. One that you feel in your chest. Perhaps it was my late night reading of the extremely thorough and enlighting 18 page document entitled "Personal Security in Kenya". Or maybe it's my Type-A self not okay with unsettled details and a lack of answers to my many questions. Whatever the reason, it's caused worry. This is when I go into "fix it" mode which absolutely kills the heart and soul of my experience. When I first decided to go, I knew I wanted to be connected to God from start to finish - for new opportunities, for protection, for companionship (did I mention I'm going alone?). And in the midst of planning, John (the orphan boy) popped up out of the blue as one of those opportunities I could have ignored if left to my own devices. Now as the days tick by, I have already spent too much money and accumulating a mile long to-do list. We haven't (yet) raised the full amount to send John to school. My lodging is still not booked. Emails are not being answered. Friends are silent about donating gifts to bring with me. And I could go on... But today I read:  Do not let fixing things be your top priority. Don't weigh yourself down with responsibilities that are not your own. What is truely important? I can guess that it's not the details that are important. I've gotta find the heart and soul again. There's a story about two sisters, Mary and Martha. One day, a man named Jesus (maybe you've heard of him?) came to their home for a visit. Martha was worried and upset about the details of his visit. Doing Doing Doing. Which I can totally relate to. Plus it's JESUS we're talking about. Mary, on the other hand, was way more chill. We Jesus came, she just hung out with him. Just being. Martha began to freak out that Mary wasn't joining her in the busyness but according to Jesus, Mary had chosen the "essential" thing. I want to choose the "essential" thing...listening and learning and being present in each moment. Wish me luck :)

Refugee Visit #2

One day during my August "staycation", I tagged along with the junior highers to visit refugee communities again. I just love getting to hang with the kids from the apt complex in City Heights. Many of the same kids were there. I brought beads and yarn and we made bracelets/necklaces. We talked about school and family. The two sisters from Mexico remembered me and were so proud to show me their birds again. I wonder what their lives are really like?

A Day with Refugees

When you work in the field of philanthropy, asking for a day off of work to visit local refugees is a no brainer. Since I came back from Africa, I've been dying to be with Africans...or at least some non-American people. However, a few days before last week's trip, I was *this* close to not going. My introverted side was a getting a little anxious - not about reaching out to the refugees but about jumping into a group of pre-pubescent white church kids from North County. I used to be one of those kids...so not sure what my "ish" was about. There was a little awkwardness at first but let's be honest...I think they were more awkward on the outside than I felt on the inside. Ohhh the days of jr. high... zits, bangs, superficial friends and awkward first kisses (and no, we won't go into details, thankyouverymuch).

In the morning, we spent time at College Center Covenant Church where many Sudanese attend. The church's English speaking congregation reaches out to the refugee families in many ways including a "clothing closet" - a room transformed into a mini clothing "store" - free, of course, to people in need of clothes. A few of the jr. high girls and I sorted and hung donated clothes. The others worked to clean out a room for sewing projects and prepped a garden for growing produce. I was fortunate to meet and talk to a Sudanese lady who was probably in her 40s but looked not a day older than 29. She was so tall and beautiful yet I could see her pain. She is a widow with 9 kids between the ages of 8-27. I wanted to sit with her for hours and hear her story of hardship and hope. The few minutes I got with her was enough to be amazed at how she has perserved in this city for 14 years.

In the afternoon we went to an apartment complex in City Heights (apparently via a connection with Alliance For African Assistance) where many refugees and immigrants from all over the world live...Africa, Asia, Mexico. A true melting pot. We brought clothes, soccer balls, sidewalk chalk, books, games...I even brought nail polish. We spent hours playing with the kids and talking to the adults who knew some English. It was wonderfully surreal feeling like I was in a foreign country for the afternoon. One little Mexican girl in 2nd grade held my hand every time she was near me. It was so endearing. At the end of the day, she and her sister invited me into their shoe box apartment to see their pet birds. My heart melted. And then the cherry on top?? Deaf kids! Two of them! I tried, without much success, to sign with one 8 year old African girl. She knew her colors and not a lot else. I didn't get to meet the deaf boy who kept running away...maybe next time. I have to say, I was impressed with the jr. high kids who stepped outside of themselves for the day to reach out to others. Thankful too that I put on my big-girl pants and got over my insecurities because it was all worth it and more.

Wish I could do this everyday (and still pay my bills)...

http://fromcalitokenya.blogspot.com/

Compassion Bloggers in Kenya

I just discovered that group of bloggers who sponsor Compassion kids are in Kenya right now. They are blogging about their trip, posting stories, videos, and pictures...and I'm hanging on every moment! I love this idea of sending bloggers to Compassion countries to share their experiences...web 3.0 style. Way to be with it, Compassion!

This is one of my fav videos they posted. This girl's got rhythm! Check out her head jam...LOVE it!



I miss Kenya...when can I go back?

http://fromcalitokenya.blogspot.com

From Kenya to Cali

I am the luckiest girl in the world. About six weeks after I arrived home from Africa, Africa came to me. Lucy and a handful of her kids from Hope Community Center in Kinangop, Kenya arrived in the States to sing and fundraise for their orphanage. First leg of the trip: San Diego. Then they toured the East Coast and came back to San Diego for 5 days before flying back to Kenya on Dec 23rd. It was fascinating to see American life through their eyes. I was fortunate to spend lots of quality time with the kids, especially Juliet (12) and Julia (13)...living at Felicia's, pedicures with mom, dance class, Medieval Times, meals together, the park, lots of singing and lots and lots of YouTube. They love posing for pictures and taking video of themselves and then watching it over and over. I had two camera batteries and always had to have one charged and ready to replace the other. They love playing at the park, especially the swings. They don't like pasta or red sauce. They like chicken and lemonade. Juliet is always laughing and happy as a clam. She doesn't easily get upset or hold grudges. Julia is definitely a teenager. She has many layers but struggles to express herself. And even though her teenage moodiness often reared it's ugly head, I found myself drawn to her. Felicia and I made it our personal mission to teach the girls that they have a voice. Although it doesn't flow with their culture, we wanted them to assert themselves when it came to choices even on the simple stuff like "do you want cheese or pepperoni?" In the end, after pouring my life and energy into these kids, I was exhausted. But it was worth it...even the drama. More and more I think I want to forgo traditional motherhood - you know...get married, get pregnant, have baby, live happily ever after - p.s. don't tell my mother. Instead, adopt a kid from Africa...maybe not even a baby. Anyway... goodbyes were anti-climatic. I can't take it personally. Over the years, I'm sure the kids have learned to detach from people who won't be in their lives forever. I hope it's not forever. I miss them already.

CLICK HERE to see more pics from Part 1 - October/November

CLICK HERE to see more pics from Part 2 - December

http://fromcalitokenya.blogspot.com