40 days.

40 is a significant number in Scripture. Many of my favorite Bible stories center around the number 40: The rain that fell on Noah and his ark lasted for 40 days. David (one of my personal favorite men-of-God; the whole "man after God's own heart" thing just resonates with me!) was king of Israel for 40 years. Elijah once ate a meal that sustained him for 40 days. Jesus was tempted in the desert for 40 days, and after His resurrection, he stayed on earth in bodily form for, you guessed it, 40 days.

And now, my part in God's story is coming in to contact with this special number: 40 days from today, I'll board a plane (and then two more within 24 hours), eventually ending up in Nairobi, Kenya to spend the semester living and working at First Love Children's Home.

Leading up to these past few weeks, every time someone asked me about going to Kenya all I could meet their questions with was pure, unadulterated excitement. Friends and family would ask, "Aren't you scared?" and I would say "No...should I be?"

I am absolutely thrilled to have the opportunity to live and work in Kenya. I've already seen God at work in the fact that I can even do my internship in Kenya (the program wasn't quite intending to send social work students so soon!) But within the past week or two, Satan has seen exactly how to put doubt in to this eager heart of mine. Suddenly, I'm pretty afraid of what I'll be facing come January. I'm afraid of a lot of things: I'm afraid that I'll miss my family and friends desperately, I'm afraid that something bad will happen to my friends or family while I'm away and I won't be able to be with them, I'm afraid that the kids I'm working with won't like me, I'm afraid that the adults I'm working alongside won't like me, I'm afraid of being a minority (being white and from the U.S.) for the first time in my life, I'm afraid of experiencing my heart breaking so desperately for the needs in Kenya that I won't come back.

I'm a little ashamed to admit any of these, especially publicly, but that's pride speaking. I'm a fallen human being and I fail to realize just how BIG my God is on a daily basis. Missing people? MY GOD IS BIGGER. Illness and injury? MY GOD IS BIGGER. Feeling unloved and unwanted? MY GOD IS BIGGER. Feeling out of place? MY GOD IS BIGGER. Broken-hearted from the pain in this world? MY GOD IS BIGGER.

A Psalm of David ( my fave!): "The LORD is my light and my salvation-- whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life-- of whom shall I be afraid?"

As I spend these last 40 days before my departure, would you join me in praying for the following things?

• Pray for the children that I'll be working with: that their needs would be met and that their hearts will be stirred up by Jesus.
• Pray for those working at First Love right now: that they would be sustained and filled with joy at the privilege of caring for the orphan, as we are commanded to do  
• Pray for those who were affected by the terrorist attack in Nairobi in September: pray that the hearts of those affected will be soothed, the fear of more unrest will be calmed, and that God will work in the hearts of those who are causing terror (remember, HE'S BIGGER!)
• Pray that as I and other students prepare our minds and hearts for Kenya we would turn our fears to God--He's got our backs!

In Sickness and in Health

My plans, as usual, have been derailed for the past couple of weeks, due to the fact that I have pneumonia. Ending the busiest and most academically challenging school year of my life was definitely not part of my master plan at all. But how many times will it take me to realize that the plans I make will forever and always be irrelevant in light of God's plan? Being sick right now does not make much sense to me...with less than two weeks of school left, the timing literally could not be worse.

But I know this: God is bigger than pneumonia, and costochondritis (that's the technical term for when you've been coughing for 5 weeks and the cartilage under your ribs is now inflamed and quite painful), and He's a heck of a lot bigger than my plans. Thankfully, because my plans tend to be a little ridiculous. He is good, all the time, and Him forcing me, literally, to take a break even with the seeming worst timing ever is good.

I laid it down in silence,

This work of mine,

And took what had been sent me --

A resting time.

The Master's voice had called me

To rest apart;

"Apart with Jesus only,"

Echoed my heart.

I took the rest and stillness

From His own hand,

And felt this present illness

Was what He planned.

How often we choose labor,

When He says "Rest" --

Our ways are blind and crooked;

His way is best.

There is a blessed resting

In lying still,

In letting His hand mold us,

Just as He will.

His work must be completed.

His lesson set;

He is the Master Workman;

Do not forget!

We are to be His servants;

We never choose

If this tool or that one

Our hands will use.

In working or in waiting

May we fulfill

Not ours at all, but only

The Master's will!

The above is from Streams in the Desert. May my and your soul, friends, focus on God's good plan for us, whether in a period of sickness or health.

Kenya Believe It? The Beginning of the Story

Clearly my plan to blog every day failed quite quickly, mostly because most of my days this week have ended with nighttime cold medicine and a very early bedtime. Oh well, who really wants to hear from me everyday anyway? Maybe we'll shoot for once a week.

ANYWAY, back to the point of this post: Approximately 9 months (a little less, actually) from now I am going to KENYA. KENYA BELIEVE IT??? (Also please be reassured that there will be no shortage of clever ways in which I can use the word "Kenya" throughout the next year or so).

There has been something about all of Africa that has captured my mind and heart since I was very young. 

When I was 15, I had a vivid dream that I was on a flight headed somewhere in Africa (likely Uganda at that time). I was in a small plane, writing in my journal about the experience, and as the plane touched down I remember the most distinct feeling of I'm home. That dream hasn't left my head since.

Fast forward four years to last spring, when I saw a poster in my dorm building that said "Always wanted to go to Africa?" (Heck. Yes. was the answer in my head) The postscript said "Semester in Kenya. Designed for Education Majors."

I attended the Semester in Kenya informational meeting about a year ago and wrote my name down on the interest sheet, but mostly came to the conclusion that it wouldn't work out since it was such a new program, was intended for education majors, and I've been pretty set on graduating in 4 years, which didn't seem possible if I were to take a semester to go abroad. Basically, it just didn't seem to fit into the "plan"...aka my plan.

A wonderful thing about the social work program that I'm in is that it allows graduates of the program to graduate with advanced standing. This means that we do more field education than most undergrads, so we can go on to get a master's degree in just one year after graduating. It also means that our final semester of school is spent solely in field education, which is a 400 hour internship, usually completed in a social service agency near our school. Because I need to do only this internship my final semester of school and won't have any classes left to take, a semester at a university in Kenya seemed rather impractical.

Fast forward some more to this past fall, just a few days after I arrived back to campus. My dear friend Rochelle (also a social work major) and I were enjoying an evening walk and sat down on some steps behind an office building. Our conversation turned from catching up on our summers to how much we really wanted to go to Kenya. Just at that moment, Jeff, the director of the Semester in Kenya Program, walked out of the office building (especially odd timing since school hadn't even begun yet and it was late evening). Rochelle yelled "Hey, aren't you the Kenya guy?" We explained to Jeff that we're both social work majors who would need to complete our internships during the semester that would be spent in Kenya. To our surprise and delight, he said he would look into it.

Roch and I, not in Kenya yet (as is apparent by
our winter apparel!)

This was followed by months and months of lots of questions, lots of prayers, and not hearing really any answers at all.  (We seriously brought it up probably every week to our professors). Rochelle and I both filled out a preliminary application and were approved to "study off-campus" (I think this basically means we are unlikely to fail classes off campus or damage the college's reputation), but that's been really all the information we've gotten. We've since seen some of our friends off to Kenya for their semester taking classes there, and have enjoyed seeing and hearing updates via Facebook and Skype--they're having some incredible experiences!

The lack of answers as far as whether or not Rochelle and I could go was so significant, though, that just about a month ago, we were told to plan for housing and an internship next year in this area because it was assumed that Kenya would just not work. The program was too new, it wasn't designed for social work majors, we had no way to get from the university campus in Nairobi where students in the program live to our internship sites each day, etc. etc. Basically, a few weeks ago my heart that has been set on Kenya for the last few months was feeling pretty low.

Until...the Thursday before Easter Jeff (the program director) was back in the country to make plans for next year's program. I had to get home early that day and unfortunately missed meeting with him, but I did receive pretty much the best phone call of my life from the one and only Rochelle who, upon my answer, yelled "WE'RE GOING TO KENYA!!!!!!" 

Not only have our internships been approved to take place in Kenya, but Rochelle and I are two of three Trinity students so far who have specifically been invited to this program for next spring. Because getting from the university campus to our site could be a bit of a challenge (as far as long travel times), Rochelle and I will be at the same site, where we'll live Monday-Thursday, and then live at the university with the other students in our program Friday-Sunday. Proposed sites that we're most interested in include a refugee camp and an orphanage (which would be ideal, since I want to work in adoption in the future!)

I realize now that so many parts of my life over the past few years have been leading up to spending this time in Kenya. When I had that dream nearly 6 years ago, I never actually thought it would come true...I had absolutely no idea at that point how spending time in Africa could possibly fit into my life. Spending last summer away from home and serving gave me a sense of independence and adventure like I'd never experience before, and filled my heart with so much joy that I was reassured that I will find joy no matter where I am, as long as I'm serving. I think that is what my life seems to be meant to be about.

I absolutely cannot wait to begin this adventure in Kenya (and to share it on this blog!) God's already worked everything out this far--who knows what else He's up to for my future!

Thoughtful Tuesday

A quick thought on this busiest day of the week:

If You've Gotta be Sick...

Today was one of those rare Midwest days where it actually felt like spring around here, producing the picturesque scenes of undergrads playing frisbee on the back lawn, laying out blankets on which to study, and making their way around campus barefoot.

And I have spent most of the day in my yoga pants and a child-sized Packers sweatshirt, not having left my room once since I woke up. Am I a bum? you might ask. Sometimes.

Sadly though I have been stricken with a throat that feels like it's on fire, a nasty hacking cough (which I am reasonably sure caused the guy sitting next to me at the library yesterday to leave), and a bad case of I-just-want-to-stay-in-my-bed-all-day.

Normally one to tough it out, I was going to go to my classes, but upon noticing the looks of disgust upon my friends' faces as my cough echoed off the walls of my room, I decided it would be kind to not infect others. Which is why I'm being a hermit.

Anyway, the short thought I would like to share today is: If your body decides to be sick, you should be sick on Trinity's campus (unless you have the option to be sick around your Mommy, who will take the best care of you).

Reasons why:

1) If you don't make it out of bed on time, no less than 5 people will know within an hour and will come to make sure you're still alive.
2) You will wake up to a get-well card taped to your door
3) Approximately 5,000 options of cold medicine will be presented to you within 10 minutes of eliciting your first cough
4) Lovely friends will bring you some of this deliciousness to soothe your on-fire throat:

5) Still other lovely friends will brave the (beautiful) weather to bring you some soup from the BBC
6) You can live vicariously through those enjoying the lovely weather by watching them out your window while you sit at your desk watching Duck Dynasty and trying not to hack up a lung (ok, I suppose you could have this experience anywhere, but I do have an exceptional view of all the fun-havers outside).

The points is, if I've gotta be sick, at least I'm surrounded by lots of fantastic people who love me!

I'm Backkkkkk! And it's the B-Day of a Pretty Cool Guy!

So I've decided that due to a large adventure that is coming my way in approximately 10 months (more on that at another time), I need to start blogging more, because I have pretty much sucked at it this whole school year. I'm not entirely sure why, because the past year has probably been the most eventful of my life, but that might be it--I've been kinda busy!

To help me get back into the groove of blogging, I've decided to blog once a day for the next 30 days (now until May 6th), even if all I manage to do in a day is post a picture or two (I'm also trying to take more pictures in preparation for the upcoming adventure). I hope that this gets me back into practice to update periodically once the next 30 days are over!

My return to blogging happens to coincide with the day of birth of my father, one Kent Michael Wessley. Happy Birthday, Dad!!!!

Generally one would assume that a photo like this would be exaggerating
just how B.A.my dad is. Not in this case, I promise! 

Some reasons why my dad is a pretty cool guy:

• I ask my dad a lot of pretty ridiculous questions on a pretty regular basis. I don't know how to pay my taxes, use any type of insurance, get my car fixed, or what to do when my computer isn't working, and my natural reaction to any of these issues is to freak out. One of these problems comes up about every week, which is quickly followed by a frantic call or text to my dad, who always has the answer. Whatta guy! 
• Not only does my dad sport quite a few tattoos of his own, he took me to get mine when I was 18--how many people can say that about their parents? 
• Nearly two years ago he had a major stroke, and we thought he would never walk again. Through the grace of God and my dad working his butt off in physical therapy, he was walking within a month and back on his motorcycle the next summer, riding it to Colorado and back (the photo above is from that trip). 
• A fun fact from my childhood: my dad used to paint my nails. All the time. And he was really good at it (better than my mom!) 
• Having an adventurous spirit causes me to want to do a lot of pretty out-there things, usually at the last minute. When I was 16, I spent two weeks on a mission trip in Peru, which my dad was very instrumental in helping me fund-raise for and supporting me in. A little less than a year ago, I told him at the end of April that I was going to move to Texas for the summer to be an Americorps volunteer, and oh yeah, I needed to buy a car first. Dad not only was all for me running off to Texas for the summer, he helped me find and buy my car (purchasing a car would be another task I am quite inept at). The next adventure I'm planning on (which is still not being revealed on here!) takes a little more courage and a lot more letting go for my parents than my other adventures have--but I know that my dad will support me all the way.
• Finally, as scary as that big Harley-riding guy might appear, I know that he absolutely loves my sisters and I, and he tells us that a lot. What a blessing.

So here's to you, Dad Wessley! (Cara has my dad saved as that in her phone and it cracks me up every day). Thanks for putting up with the antics of three daughters and loving us the whole time.