4 long years. 2 of the worst of my life, and then 2 of the best of my life. By this time next year, I will have lived as many years of my life in the US as in Kenya. My life seems so normal. I go to work, I drive home, I complain about college, I ‘hang out’ with my friends. I’m so content right now, but I’m afraid that I’m more lost than I think. Who am I? MK, TCK, PK, BK? I remember a time when all I wanted from life was to marry some good Christian Maasai man, be a good wife, and raise my children in a mud hut. But realistically, I could not have been that…I don’t have the skills be that kind of wife…the patience to cook over a wood fire and to raise my children without everything that I had growing up. I remember a time when I thought it would be exciting to be a translator for the U.N. But too often I just want to wash my hands of any and all government systems. Recently, I think I’ve spent too much time assuming that I will live a life just like my parents…nursing major, and a desire for missions. But I can’t live my parents’ life. I say I want to be a nurse, but I have a picture in my mind of my mother’s clinic, not of Hershey Medical Center. I feel a desire for missions, but is that God’s call, or is it just a longing for my childhood? I don’t want to go through life chasing the past.
Papa lang otii shumata meitisinyi enkarna ino meeu enkitoria ino, metaasi eniyieu te nkop anaa enatiu te shumata.