Every morning, I wake up to this.
Throughout the day, the hot sun beats down on the land.
Off in the distance, Tullu Dimtu and other mountains give variety to the horizon.
As the sun sets, I usually sit outside my home on a little stool, sipping tea, playing guitar, watching the trees and homes turn into silhouettes.
(Chalbi Desert sunset)
"Be still and know that I am God."
Psalm 46:10
Perhaps this blog entry tells you more about my time in Kalacha than others I've done. You see in these photos no people. Just land and sky. Dry and hot. Rocks and sand. Dust and thorns. Whatever beauty you can see in these things is all that's left in me. I've been soaking it all up and being transformed by the desolation I feel on a daily basis here. You can see from other teammates' blogs that my time in Kalacha has been very different from theirs. They've spent much of their time laughing, learning, conversing, and growing. I've spent much of mine crying, hiding out, withering, and clawing the ground to keep moving. At least...that's what it's
felt like.
This week I think I reached my breaking point.
My team has gone off on a trip and I remained behind, primarily to have some alone time and get rejuvenated. When they return, their blogs will be colored with adventures and smiling faces and tell you things that your curious minds want to know about life in northern Kenya. I'm sorry I have not done such a good job at doing that for you these past 2 years, but breathing and remembering to eat have seemed to have taken priority.
Thank you for being there for me and showing me grace.
If you think of it, please pray for me.
