What I Didn't Expect

This is a post I started on the 9th before the power went out... now I'm revisiting it in an attempt to process through all I saw. 

I keep thinking back to yesterday morning when we were walking through the slum. I think I mentioned that I was nervous about this because I had never seen such poverty. I was afraid it would be overwhelming.

Instead, I found it beautiful.

Before we left the bus, one of our country directors gave us instructions -- don't take photos without asking, always stay close to the group, don't give the kids candy or you may be mobbed. (This one is very true, but it applies to adults as well as kids. I never knew a Jolly Rancher could be so dangerous!)

The church we visited in the first slum wasn't that far into the slum itself, a couple blocks really, which was a blessing. The road was rutted -- beyond rutted, actually, and because it rained so often while we were in Nairobi, parts of the road rose up to greet you at unbelievable angles. Drops of several feet, bumps that could eat your tire, axle, wheel well and all... but that wasn't just the road in the slum, it was all over Nairobi.

So we tread carefully in more ways than one.

Still, once at the church where the corrugated tin shone and the windows were thankfully open, we sat in plastic chairs. We were late, the worship was already going, and we listened in awe as they turned on the sound system to be sure everyone heard -- not just us in the building itself, but those all around. The place next door to the church also had its dance music on -- a different kind of music if you know what I mean.

From where I was sitting, I could glance out the window. Just outside the church was a pathway between the next building, which for some reason was lined with barbed wire. Beyond that, a laundry line where two women were hanging clothes as little ones played around them. Throughout the service I could hear them shake out the clothes then smooth them over the line. In the depth of this place where many people (including myself) expected filth, instead we found cleanliness. Pride.

Beauty.

I saw it in the faces of those we met. I saw it in the sweat pouring down Pastor Williams' face as he shared the Truth. I saw it un upraised hands and voices uninhibitedly praising God. I saw it in the meekness of children who would respond smile for smile. In the way others would offer us their chairs, in how the offering plate was passed and everyone contributed something -- the widow's mite made real. I saw it in their weathered hands as they reached out to clasp mine.

Before I left on this trip, I prayed that somehow I would "add to the beauty." What I realize know is that I needed to see the beauty first before I could ever know how to add to it. I still don't know what that will look like, but I do know this: the people in this slum are beautiful. So are their homes. They are beautiful in unexpected ways, and I am grateful to have seen it.