Falling in Love

On my way to the airport on May 11, 2014, my mother spoke to me more seriously than I can ever remember. Most of her speech was about how proud she was of the Greenwood three; she had prayed about us since we were babies that we would go into full time ministry or even missions. She said that now that the day has come, it was harder for her to pray those things because it meant that we would no longer be within her arm's reach. But she still reveled in how amazing God is and how He answered her prayers that started over 23 years ago. The most memorable part of our talk, though, went something along the lines of this:

"Bekah, I gave Rach this same talk when she was leaving for Chile last summer. I want to tell you, too. Maybe the love of your life is in Kenya. Maybe you will find a love so great that you never want to come back. But please guard your heart until you find that love, whether it be in Kenya, the United States, or somewhere else."

Mom, my lovely, I want you to know something: I have found the love for which my heart has been longing. I have discovered a love so great that I hear whispers in my ear, saying, "Bekah, don't leave. Stay." I have experienced a love so deep, deeper than I could have ever imagined.

Mom, the love of my life lives here in Kericho. I guarded my heart like you instructed, but when I realized how great this relationship could be, my heart was opened. And even though I only have a few, short weeks left here in Kenya's tea capitol, I know that the love we have for each other will only continue to bloom and grow.

What is the name of my love, you ask?

Maybe the actual question should be, "What is your love?"

The love that has stolen my heart comes in the form of 34 pairs of filthy little hands that won't allow me to exit my classroom at the end of the day before I give each hand a high five or six. It comes in the form of bodies that those hands are attached to that crouch by the door of my classroom, waiting to jump up and surprise me each time I enter. It comes in the form of dark, beautiful faces attached to those bodies that become so bright and smiley each time I tell them the artwork they have put so much effort into is the most wonderful thing I've ever seen. It comes in the form of many young children who do not attend my school that wait for my leave each day just so  they may say, "Teacha! How are you!" and follow me to the door of my house. It comes in the form of a little boy too sick to go to school who grabs my hand every time I see him and says, "I am coming with you to school today!" with the brightest smile I've ever seen. It comes in the form of a precious special needs girl who used to be afraid of me but now so gently holds my hand anytime we meet and longingly looks into my eyes for minutes on end. It comes in the form of my friend who owns a shop next door who is too afraid to enter a church building but still wants to know what this Jesus thing is all about. It comes in the form of sharing tea with a sassy yet loveable four year-old every day after school. It comes in the form of neighbors who so longingly desire to teach me their customs and ways of going about life. It comes in the form of my adoptive family members who care so much for me that the mother calls me "my girl," or "my daughter Bekah."

This love is unfathomable.

It's unfailing.

It's unending.

Even though I will be leaving this area in less than three weeks' time, I know that my heart will continue to love this area and these people.

I am spending the day in bed away from the dust that has caused much sneezing, coughing, and nose-blowing, and I spent a good bit of the morning crying. Not because I am tired of this allergy taking over my body. Not because of the headache accompanying it. Not because of the amount of toilet paper I have used over the past four days that has been dedicated to my snotty needs. I cried because the thought of leaving this place, no matter how controlling this dust allergy has become, hurts my heart. Being unsure of the next time I will see this beautiful land and these captivating people frightens me.

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My favorite spot in all of Kericho is at our church. If you venture to the backside of the building, you may notice a little patio by a side door. It's not much, but if you stand on it, you can see a breathtaking view of the town, the tea fields, and the nearby forests. And if it has just rained, you can almost guarantee that a rainbow will stretch across the sky and over the landscape. Needless to say, I spend quite a bit of time there, simply sitting and thanking my Lord for placing me in this beautiful area. One day as I was reflecting, one of my good teacher friends stopped to talk to me. We spoke for a few minutes, but then got down to business.

"Why Kericho? How did you get here?"

I paused to think about that question. While I was still making plans for Kenya, my dear, dear missionary who has now become like family asked where in Kenya I would like to be placed. She gave me a few options, one of them being Kericho. I was familiar with the other parts of Kenya, but I thought to myself, I've never been there. Maybe I'll give it a try. She told me that I would be staying with a family from the church. At the time, I was slightly nervous about being so far away from her, but she assured me that if I ever felt uncomfortable, I could return to Nairobi and spend the rest of my time in one of the schools there.

I explained this to my friend. I also mentioned that God knew what I needed before I knew.

This friend smiled and said, "God did know what He was doing. I'm so glad you're here."

At the end of last week, I went to this same spot again. That week marked my one monthiversary of teaching at this school. That same friend walked up to me and shared the view I was enjoying. We looked out over the town in silence for some time. But the silence was broken.

"So... You are leaving in three weeks?"

"Yes." was all I could say.

More silence.

"I don't want you to leave."

Neither do I, I thought. But if I dared to whisper those words, I knew that the tears threatening my eyes would spill over onto my cheeks.

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When most people think of Africa, they imagine exotic animals. They imagine trees so big and plants to green that not taking a picture would be considered sinful. They imagine people dressed in tribal apparel, chanting and dancing around a fire late into the night.

When I think of Africa, though, I see the faces of the students in my class, smiling, singing, laughing. I envision the times we spend at break playing football and becoming covered in dirt and grime. I picture the tea fields so vibrantly green in their harvest and the laborers who spend their time picking the fields by hand.

My Africa may be different from your Africa.

While yours has incredible sights to be seen and fantastic animals to be spotted, mine has the word "love" written in every shining eye, in every gorgeous smile, in every eager handshake. The animals and the sceneries are just a perk of this great land.

As the beloved apostle Paul wrote in his first letter to the believers in Corinth, "...the greatest of these is love."

And, ooooh boy, was he right.


Loving, loving, loving always,
Bekah