photo by bobby hass / national geographic

Fueled by emotions ranging from scared to excited to nervous to unsure and back to scared, I've written much about the future on this blog. I suppose it's inevitable; that's the natural course of life in teenaged persons who are 100% confused by life 95% of the time. Still, natural or not, the future is daunting.

But you know what's the really cool thing about God? He knows exactly what you need, even if you don't. That's not a very original or profound statement, I know, but it's been so evident in my life lately. Here, maybe this story will explain...

For the past two years, my life has been similar to that of any other high-schooler: scrambling to take ACTs and researching colleges and trying desperately to scrape up something I'd be passionate enough to study for an extended amount of time. I prayed daily that God would show me the right path and that he would make abundantly clear which I should choose. Still, the days ticked by and nothing ever seemed quite "right". I continued putting off decisions, feeling more anxious by the day, yet unable to make any commitments.

About a year ago, a bishop from Tanzania came to visit for the weekend. A friend of my dad's, he was in the States to fundraise; he entertained us all with stories about Tanzanian life and culture and repeatedly encouraged my family to visit his. Naturally, I was intrigued, but didn't think much of it. After all, I was going to college soon! Right? Right.

Come September of 2013, matters on the college front remained at a standstill. I was dual-enrolled in community college, taking some general education classes, and had another ACT test under my belt...but still I was too overwhelmed to think about applying to universities. I prayed continuously.

One day around that time, Africa popped back up in my head. I kept pushing it down: Africa? That's ridiculous, and so cliche. I'm not cut out to be a missionary, no way. What about school? Besides, it's expensive to go there! And where would I stay?

Now, it just so happens that we have some friends that live in Nairobi, Kenya. We met Rev. Trump during our time in St. Louis a few years back, and he has since moved to Nairobi with his family full-time to be the LCMS Lutheran missions facilitator for Eastern Kenya (whew, that's a mouthful). My parents knew of my wowidon'tknowwhattodowithmylife struggle, and the next thing I knew, my dad had gotten in touch with the Trumps and then all of a sudden they were talking about me taking a gap year and staying there for six months?!

The more Kenya became a reality, the more peace I felt. With every doubt and fear that cropped up, God gently pushed them down. It was as if he was saying, "Shhh, be still. I am who I am. I will take care of it."

And take care of it he has. Two weeks ago I was accepted as a missionary with the LCMS and in June I'll be moving to Nairobi for six months.

Nairobi! I hardly know what do with myself! I'm going to be living with the Trumps (and caring for their young boys, Josiah, Elijah, and Isaiah), doing work in the LCMS office in Nairobi, helping with communications, and going on some short-term mission trips to nearby villages.

So now I have four months to pass until the big day, four months that hold fundraising and finishing up high school and learning everything I possibly can about Kenyan culture and helping those in poverty. It's absolutely fascinating. I recently finished reading Toxic Charity (so eye-opening and applicable even in your own backyard) and now I'm studying a book called African Friends and Money Matters, which is incredibly helpful for anyone thinking about going to Africa, even if only for a few days. I'm fascinated by all the different cultures and customs that exist in the world and I'm so thrilled to experience life in another country and share God's love. Yet, I would be lying if I said it wasn't going to be hard. I KNOW my time in Kenya is going to hurt. There will be homesickness and worry and tiredness and tears...but still, I'm excited and thrilled and a little bit nervous and blessed and just wow God is so good, isn't he??!

Oof. It's going to be a good year.

Kenya, here I come.

carlotta cisternasFebruary 18, 2014 Comments

"As for me, I was happy because of the shedding. I loved taking off. In my own house, I seemed to be often looking for a place to hide - sometimes from the children but more often from the jobs to be done and the phone ringing and the sociability of the neighborhood. I wanted to hide so that I could get busy at my real work, which was a sort of wooing of distant parts of myself. I lived in a state of siege, always losing just what I wanted to hold on to. But on trips there was no difficulty. I could be talking to Andrew, talking to the children and looking at whatever they wanted me to look at - a pig on a sign, a pony in a field, a Volkswagen on a revolving stand - and pouring lemonade into plastic cups, and all the time those bits and pieces would be flying together inside me. The essential composition would be achieved. This made me hopeful and lighthearted. It was being a watcher that did it. A watcher, not a keeper."

taken from the short story Miles City, Montana by Alice Munro

carlotta cisternasFebruary 12, 2014 Comments

this is what you do when the days start blurring together

In the process of writing this, I've eaten half (okay, maybe more like three-quarters) a bar of espresso bean chocolate and have given up on wearing pants. Clearly the cold has started to get to me.

If I had a uniform these days, it'd be something like this: sweater tights and a loose cotton dress and a sweater or two on top of the dress and thick socks and a big scarf. Plain, pure comfort. Yesterday, I wore a pair of jeans for the first time in a few days and wow that was a rude awakening. I'm sticking to my tights from here on out, thanks.

Maybe I should do something about the lack of color in my closet, but you know what they say, black boosts self-confidence, and it's true.

(these were obviously taken pre-snow)

So. February. It's been bleak: colder than normal, and snowier too, and no one knows quite how to do deal with it. I've just decided I'm going to go into hibernation. Here's a happy thing, though: the day is approximately an hour longer than it was two months ago! Besides, February is a short month, and after that comes March, and then it's practically spring...!

But in the meantime, what do you do when the days and weeks start to blur in grayness together? You press on, I suppose. You try to make each day count, pour an extra cup of coffee when you need it, treat yourself to a chapter of a good book before bed. You pray and wonder about what the coming year will be like and dream of spring and take your pills like a good girl. And time passes, as it always does, until the blur of today is the blur of yesterday. "This too shall pass," you think, which is a good thing some days and saddening on others.

We're getting there.