The first time.
The first time I left home to travel to a foreign land.
The first time I immersed myself into a new culture.
The first time I experienced what it felt like to leave a piece of myself in a distant nation.
The first time I learned what it meant to drop what I was doing and go where the Lord called.
The first time I tasted Heaven on Earth.
The first time I ever truly came alive, ever truly tasted freedom.
The first time I knew what it felt like to do what I was created to do.
This first time was in Kenya.
In June of 2014 I went on a short-term trip to Kenya with my church. I loved, cried, laughed and leaned on Jesus harder than ever before. My trip to Kenya opened my eyes to a world of possibilities, to a life lived in pursuit of Jesus, to the joy that comes with a spirit of “yes.” I learned what it meant to love with every single piece of myself and I experienced the inevitable heart break that follows. I learned how quickly I could adapt to a new environment and become shockingly comfortable in foreign place.
I have the sweetest and most vivid memories of my first time in Kenya, full of joyful and difficult firsts. My first sip of delicious chai tea. My first time out to the African bush. My first time being surrounded by precious children all fighting to touch my white skin. My first beef samosa and plate of lentils. My first time shopping in a market place. My first African safari. My first international flight. My first culture shock. My first time walking to a dried river bank in attempt to fetch water. My first time becoming overcome with a righteous anger over the brokenness that sin causes in our world. My first time battling the parallel of some having such excess while other have such shockingly little. My first time feeling utterly broken for a nation.
I loved every second of that first trip to Kenya. I loved that after I left I still saw the smiling faces of the children I worked with every time I closed my eyes. I loved experiencing how deeply I could love someone despite varying languages, cultures, genders or ages. I loved running in the wide openness that came from truly being in the middle of nowhere. I loved teaching my new friends the Chicken Dance, Hokey Pokey, Limbo and If You’re Happy and You Know It. I loved leaving and know that I would never be the same, that a piece of me would always remain there with them.
As I sit at our gate preparing for our first flight, on our journey to Ethiopia, I feel flooded with emotions, the sadness that comes with leaving a place you love matched with the excitement of what lies ahead. Four years ago east Africa captured my heart in a way I never knew was possible. Now four years, one return visit and eight countries later, I am going back to where it all began. How sweet is our Father that He would allow me to come full circle in this way? Over the past eight months I have been privileged with eight temporary homes, eight nations that I have loved for various reasons, eight new places where I have left a pieces of my heart.
Asia has been immeasurably more than I could have ever hoped or imagined. I am eternally grateful for the past five months. Leaving is difficult. Leaving and not knowing if I will ever get to set foot back on this land, if I will ever hug the friends I’ve made again on the side of Heaven. Frankly, leaving breaks my heart in a deeper way than I have known. This time, though, with leaving comes returning. Returning. Even know as I roll that word around on my tongue it feels unbelievable. Unbelievable that I would be so blessed as to return, for a third time, to a region of the world that once felt so unattainable. As I leave I chose to invite the Lord into this space to heal the pieces of me that ache to stay. As I leave I chose to embrace, with open arms, the joy of returning. Returning to my first foreign love- East Africa.
Please pray for safety as we continue to make our way to our first African country- Ethiopia!
All my love,
Bekah
