We had just finished our ministry in Africa.
We were back in Nairobi
for the day. That evening we would board our flights destined for Ireland. Keet
and I were sitting in Java House waiting to share our last Mexican meal in Africa. We sat talking about our previous months in Africa; all that we had shared and endured together. We
talked about our dreams and plans for the future; each one getting excited and
truly celebrating with the other. Our meal came, the usual, a shredded chicken
burrito with refried beans, Mexican rice and guac. As usual we split it 50/50,
with the exception that I gave her all my tomatoes. We dug in, both of us
starting with the guacamole. We continued our conversation. A few minutes later
our iced lattes showed up too. Hers: Iced mocha latte with a shot of raspberry.
Mine: Iced latte with almond and vanilla. We took the first sip and then
automatically pushed them across the table from us and tried the other, then
swapped back exclaiming the goodness of both of our choices.
It was during this meal that it hit me how much Keet and I
really do share. How much we have shared over the months. She has been with me
since the very beginning. She has seen my ugliest side and loved me
unconditionally. She is my confidant, my sounding board, and my voice of
reasoning. We share the things God is teaching us. Many times he speaks to us
about the same things at the same time. We share meals, ideas, beds, prayers,
celebrations, constructive criticism, pretty much everything but underwear and
toothbrushes.
At training camp we did about five different team building
exercises where they would mix us and match us with different people on our
squad, ask us how we think that team had worked together and evaluate our
answers. They were trying to figure out the best combinations to create
successful teams. Keet was in each group of mine except one. After each
exercise they would ask us a multitude of questions. One of these questions
being: Who would be an encouragement to you in this group? My answer was always
the same: Keet.
God had to remind me of this moment once in the Philippines. I
had just received an envelope. In it was a card on which was written the names
of all my new team members. They told us to go off by ourselves to talk to God
about the team changes before we opened the card. At this moment I have to be
honest and say, if my team had stayed the same I would have had to do more
grieving than if it had changed. I was telling God, the names had better be
different! I still cannot explain the dysfunction of my team, but we all agree
we are much closer now that we are no longer on a team together. So at this
point, I was at the end of my rope. I didn’t care if I took anyone from my old
team with me to my new team. But God knew what I needed. I opened the envelope;
five completely new names and Keet. At that moment God reminded me what I had
always said at training camp during those team building exercises.
I opened my envelope in the seclusion of our room on a bed
that Keet and I shared with one other girl. Not too long after Keet walked in.
We looked at each other then she crawled on the bed and hugged me. We fell over
hugging, laughing and crying all at the same time. We renewed a silent vow of
friendship and family to one another that day.
Sometimes the stress or pressure of ministry and being
together 24/7 in that setting makes community really difficult. It strains
relationships. (I think this is what happened to my first team). But with the
pressure of African ministry off our shoulders and with the freedom to just be in Nairobi; to just be Kristen and be Keet, without the worry of needing to “put your skirt on,” “go
here,” “wait there,” “bless this person,” “pray this for that person,” then I
found a new level of love and appreciation for Keet; our friendship; our
conversations; our idiosyncrasies. I just enjoy her.
Earlier that day in Nairobi Keet and I were shopping for
jeans and warm-weather clothes to take to E. Europe.
We shared a dressing room and I finished before she did. As I came out to pay
for my jeans the lady at the counter said, “Is your sister still trying on
jeans?” I tilted my head to the side and
just looked at her then replied, “Why yes. Yes she is.”
I smiled to myself. No need to correct her. That is just
what we are. Sisters.
