Not about a bunny...But not really about a cross either...

It's Easter weekend. I've been thinking about what that really means lately. We tend to associate Easter with a bunny, eggs, chocolate and spring candy. But I think that we all know one thing. That's not the meaning of Easter. But what is? Because I think that many of us have it wrong.

Some might say that Easter is about the Spring Equinox. Some say that it is actually a pagan holiday celebrating fertility. Others may say that it is just a time to welcome in spring. A time of renewal and rebirth. Some think it means nothing at all.

Christians. What do we say about Easter? I am going to suggest something that might sound slightly unusual, but hear me out. We tend to wrap the meaning of Easter up around the cross. But I suggest that if the cross becomes the center of Easter than we too have missed the point.

This week that we call Holy week, when Jesus intentionally made His way to Jerusalem to be put to death on our behalf, is very important. Scripture details many things that happened...The final supper...The betrayal of Judas...Peter's denial...The release of a known criminal...So many events that led to the beating and crucifixion of Jesus.

But that was Friday. And Jesus was not the first to be crucified. In fact, I've read that Romans were not even the ones to invent crucifixion. They may have "perfected" it (found ways to make it more painful and take longer to die), but they did not invent it. The fact that Jesus died on that cross is important but it is not the most significant nor should it be our focal point this Easter.

So it's not a bunny rabbit. Not a pagan goddess. Not about spring. And it is not about the cross. So what is Easter about? It's about what happened after Jesus quoted his victory speech. It was a short speech. But it was packed with power and loaded with a punch. After nearly six agonizing hours of (yes, the Son of God felt pain) pain on that cross, Jesus said "It is finished". And he allowed Himself to die. He stopped pulling Himself up and sank down to the point where His ribs crushed His lungs and He suffocated. Many may not realize it, but that was usually the cause of death in crucifixion.

Yet His words "It is finished" were not to say that His mission was ending. In fact, it was just beginning. With those words He conquered the power of death. His life is not what was finished. Death is what was finished. And this was just the beginning.

Again...the cross. Not the point. That was Friday. Easter is about what happened next. What happened three days later as they found the tomb empty. What is Easter about? It is about that empty tomb. A tomb that the body of the Messiah was laid in and sealed shut. Guarded by Roman soldiers. A tomb where the stone was rolled away and found empty. Easter is about a Messiah that was put to death in our place. And then rose from the grave so that we may live.

Perhaps that isn't even enough though? Perhaps that tomb wasn't really empty. We know that there was no body in it. In fact, it is after this that Jesus begins to appear to His followers (in some rather humorous ways too). But was the tomb truly empty?

I believe that the tomb was physically empty, yet it was quite full. Full of the world's - past, present and future - junk. Out failures. Our short comings. Our sin (ohhh, there's that ugly word that we so often like to shy away from. I'd apologize for using it but the truth s that I'm not sorry. We all have sin and I won't pretend like it's not there. We're born into it). When Jesus died on that cross He stepped outside of time and took all of that on Himself. And He took it all to the grave with Him. And when He rose again He didn't bring any of it back. He left it dead. It is why we can read in scripture that we are made new. We are no longer dead to our former self but we are made alive in Christ. It's why Ephesians tells us that we are members and citizens of Heaven. And why 1 Peter tells us that we are a chosen people; a real priesthood. That sin was left in the grave. We can either leave it there or we can go pick it up again.

That's the meaning of Easter. Life. Life abundantly. Freedom. Freedom from all our junk. Easter is a time when we remember and celebrate that gift. It's free and it's eternal. And there's nothing we could ever do to earn it. And there will never be a need to earn it.

Why I support PA House Bill 162 and open adoption records

First of all, what is HB 162? Long story short, it is a bill that, if passed, will open up original birth certificates for adoptees. This may not sound like much, but if passed, it will be a step forward in opening adoption records to adoptees over the age of 18. You can find out more here: PA Adoptee rights

In case you didn't know, I was adopted when I was 8 years old. I spent the first 8 years in and out of foster homes and with different family members. When I was adopted on Sept. 11th, 1993 I was given a new birth certificate. In fact, I have a digital copy of it only laptop. It shows that the date filed was August 23, 1984. The parents listed are my adopted parents.

Let me pause for a minute and say that I love my adopted family. Sure, we have our issues and flaws, but they are my family and I love them. They took my in and loved me as one of their own. I am extremely thankful for them every day.

Ok, back to HB 162. Obviously, my birth certificate that was filed on August 23rd of 1984 does not have my adopted parents listed. In fact, it has the names Kimberly Krezdorn and Raymond Keiser. The birth certificate with my adopted parents was, in fact, not filed until sometime in 1993.

This new birth certificate is my legal proof of identity. It lists my new name and new parents. My original birth certificate is useless as a form of legal identification. Yet, it is not so useless to me and other adoptees. It is a part of our identity. Part of who we are. It is a part of who I am. And, as it stands now, I have no legal right to have it. It still exists, mind you. It is locked away in a fire proof safe in an office in Berks County. For some, having their original birth certificate can begin to repair a broken sense of identity. It can begin to show where we have come from; who we were - leading to who we are now. Simply put, adoptees grow up with many questions. An original birth certificate can begin to answer a few of them.

I do not think that it should stop with a birth certificate. I believe that all records should be open to adoptees once we reach adult age. Think about it. I am able to freely access my criminal record, driving record, credit history, etc. Yet the ONE set of records that I want - records that are ABOUT MY LIFE - I am denied. Why? Because some government agency thinks that I do not have the rights to it. Because they believe that protecting the anonymity of birth parents is more important. I have seen some studies showing that approximately 95% of birth parents welcome a reunion with their birth children. Plus, anonymity is NOT guaranteed during the adoption process. As one US Supreme Court ruled,

"A birth is simultaneously an intimate occasion and a public event - the government has long kept records of when, where, and by whom babies are born. Such records have myriad purposes, such as furthering the interest of children in knowing the circumstances of their birth."

If a birth is a public event, then why is MINE made private?

Why are these records so important? Because they hold answers. I am very fortunate. I was reunited with much of my birth family when I was 16 years old. They've been able to give me many of the answers that I was looking for. And they, as well as my adopted family, have poured out so much love to me. Not every adoptee is this fortunate. Many grow up and never get the answers that they want. I support this bill for them, probably more so than I do for my own gain. Still, while I have a lot of answers, there are more that I want. I want to see the records. I want to see the reports that were filed. I want to see the reasons my birth parents listed for signing away their rights. I want to see these records because it is a part of who I am. And I am being shot down in accessing them. To see my records I may have to file a court order. I may have to hire an attorney. And even then, I can still be denied. If you have never been adopted - never had a large chuck of your life torn apart and gaping holes left in its place, you may not understand why this is so important. But trust me, as one who has experienced that, it is incredibly important. And it is a terrible injustice that some government agency that no longer knows me can deny me these records. These answers.

So, what does this all mean with HB 162? Well, this bill has passed through Congress and was moved to Senate. It is currently sitting in committee and awaiting a vote that may or may not happen. If the bill passes, it will pave the way to  opening more records.

If you want to help, here is a list of senators that sit on the committee. Please consider sending an email supporting this bill.  A sample email is below. (all contact info and sample email come from THIS FACEBOOK EVENT PAGE)

Email address for members of the Senate Aging & Youth Committee:
Bmensch@pasen.gov, Washington@pasenate.com, kward@pasen.gov, jscarnati@pasen.gov, dargall@pasen.giv, lbaker@pasen.giv, senatorschwank@pasenate.com, stack@pasenate.com, yudichak@pasenate.com, evogel@pasen.giv, rvulakovich@pasen.giv, swanger@pasen.gov

Dear Senators, 

I am contacting you to express MY SUPPORT for HB 162, restoring the right of adult adoptees to access their original birth certificates through the same process as all other citizens. Please support this bill and pass it to the full Senate for a vote. 

Sincerely, 

YOUR NAME
YOUR CONTACT INFO

Mission Field Confessions Part II: confessions from back home

A little while ago I wrote a blog being honest about some things that I felt as a missionary in Kenya. If you missed it, you can read it here http://raydsmith.blogspot.com/2014/03/mission-field-confessions.html

I've been thinking about this topic since I wrote that. Here are a few more confessions about being back in the US now. Hopefully this one is a bit more lighthearted.

1. I sometimes forget which side of the road to drive on. I know, you'd think that it should be pretty simple...we drive on the right side of the road in America. But after driving a bit in Kenya on the left side, sometimes I still have to question for a minute before turning onto the road.

2. Along with that, I sometimes have to remind myself which side of the car to get in on. Again, should be straight forward - steering wheel is on the left, get in on the left. But, when I'm walking to the car I sometimes have to pause and remember what door I want to get in on. I've often caught myself walking to the passenger door of my own car or the driver's door of someone else's car.

3. I still look the wrong way when walking across a street. Most of us learned early on in life "look left, then right, then left again" to cross the road. Well, in Kenya, you look right first because cars drive on the other side of the road (well, they're supposed to. In reality, they're usually on whatever side of the road they feel like being on). After my first 6 months living there and nearly getting mowed down by bicycle taxis, motorcycles, busses and trucks, I finally got in the habit of looking to the right first. Coming back to the US, I can't seem to get into the habit of looking to the left first before walking across the road. Though, in all fairness, it may not be fair to say that this is a result of living in Kenya. I've had a bad habit of just walking without looking at all for a while. Even this morning, walking into the grocery store, I nearly got hit by someone. In my defense, there was a "yield to pedestrians" sign and I did cross at the sign. So...yeah, I'm totally faultless here.  I don't know, maybe looking the wrong direction from time to time is a positive step!  :)

4. I still utter some Swahili phrases during the day. I never learned as much Swahili as I wanted to. But the little bits I picked up I still use without even realizing it. Usually it's common, everyday phrases like "excuse me" or "thank you", etc. Often it is met by confused looks by others.

5. I miss samosas! Seriously, they are one of my very favorite foods. And there were only a few places that made them right. And I miss them. You know it's bad when you are on a first name basis with the local samosa cook. Even worse when you would SMS him to prepare an order for you. Even worse yet when you walk in and you are met with a smile and an "AHHH, Mr Ray! How many samosas do you want today!?"

6. I DO NOT miss rice and beans! If I never eat rice and beans for lunch or dinner again, I will die a very happy man! Seriously, I like spicy food, but it was not just a "like" there. It was a necessity just to have some difference in the taste. If it taste the same every day, throw a ton of hot sauce in it so you can't taste it anymore. Focus on the burn instead. At first, the beans were just a means to eat chapati (which I ALSO miss!) and the rice - I could take it or leave it. After a while, even the thought of dipping chapati in the beans wasn't enough to help.

7. Going off of the previous one, I also DO NOT miss peanut butter & jelly sandwiches and potato chips for dinner because rice and beans got boring.

8. When I go to a restaurant I still, without realizing it, choose what I want to eat plus two or three back up selections. This was important in Kenya because very often the restaurant would not have your first choice. I was at this place called Iroco Boulevard once. I asked for a plate of chips (what they call french fries). I was told that it would be three hours until they were ready. Three hours...I asked if they had whole potatoes. They did. Okay, follow me here. French fries are quite simply cut up potatoes deep fried. Whole process should take less than 30 minutes. I offered to go in the kitchen and make them myself. That was a no go. Again, three hours until they would be ready. I went through my 2nd and 3rd choice meals which they were also out of. So I left and found a new place to eat. Shame too. That used to be such a good place to eat. I think that the day I saw their demise was when it took well over an hour for a club sandwich to come out of the kitchen. How do I know it was that long? Because I read the ENTIRE newspaper and still had no food.

9. My first week back in the US I went to a Starbucks and asked for a coffee. The barista (wow, I don't think that I ever used that word before!) asked what kind I wanted. I stood there confused. I actually didn't know how to answer that question for a minute. I got used to asking for coffee and praying (um, begging God is probably more like it) that it wasn't that Nescafe 3-in-1 instant garbage.

10. I DO NOT miss malaria. This might just be the longest I've gone without malaria in a long time. The last time I had it really bad (Christmas 2012) I was literally praying that God just killed me to make the pain stop. The actual prayer was something like "God just kill me or heal me. I don't care which one anymore". And no, that is not an exaggeration. Between the malaria and the quinine treatment, every single inch of me was in pain. All day and night.

11. Still, I'd rather get malaria than a cold. If you catch it early it's can be easy to treat and goes away faster than a cold.

12. I can proudly count in Swahili to the very high number of ............FOUR! WOOO-HOOO!! Moja, Mbilli, Tatu, nne. There was a time I could count to ten. But the number ten always scared me because the Swahili word for ten is only one letter off from a slightly vulgar word. And two of my Kenyan friends once taught me the wrong word...so I usually stopped at nine. Just to be safe.

13. Last one. This one could be an entire blog but I will try to keep it short. For now. Coming home was difficult. The circumstances were very trying at the time. Now, I am at perfect peace with the decision to stay home. Recently (maybe in the past month or two) I've finally stopped living with one foot out the door. I've firmly planted both feet here. In the USA. In Chester County. And I feel such peace about it. I'm even happy and rested. More than I have been in many months. One of the best compliments I ever received was when my friend Jeremiah once told me before leaving for my first 6 months in Kenya "You look like peace". I feel like I am finally getting back to that place again. And it feels good. Really good.




14...Okay...one more...I'm actually really happy that I will be able to watch live the return of Jack Bauer after a 4 year absence! Yes, I'm a big nerd when it comes to the show 24. And yes, on May 5th my phone will be off for two straight hours.

Mission field confessions

Growing up every time "the missionary" came to speak at church it was a really big deal. They were always elevated to this high position. We, the congregation, were on the bottom, the pastor was up the ladder a few rungs. Then, way up on the top,that's where the missionary was. They would speak about how everything is so great in their little piece of the world. How awesome everything always is. As I got involved with doing international missions I placed a lot of those expectations on myself - and then some. What I learned was that I couldn't even begin to live up to them.

Here are a few of my confessions about TRUE missionary life. These may not be true of everyone, but they certainly are for me.

1. I am not brave for moving to Kenya. Okay, look, I'm going to be honest here. I took the EASY way out. Yes, you read that correctly! I said I took the easy way out. So many people say things to me along the lines of "I wish I could do what you did", or "You're so brave for doing that". Want to know the truth? Here it is. First of all, you can do it if you really want to - and if you're called, for at least a time, to do so. Second, it wasn't brave or courageous of me. The truth is that it was easy. It was easy because I knew that it was the right decision. It's actually harder moving back into the US again. Moving to Kenya - that was the easy thing for me. Let me say it another way: moving to Kenya was an act of faith and obedience not bravery. 

2. It's not always a spiritual high. In fact, there can be some pretty low times. The idea that missionaries have this perfect life and faith is outrageous. Yes, a lot of faith is involved. But that faith can be a challenge at times too. Surrounded by so much poverty, death and corruption day after day after day can really beat you up. I know it did me. There were so many times that I had a hard time seeing anything good in a situation. I remember the first time that I watched a 6 month old baby's HIV test come back positive. Talk about faith shattering! I may not have doubted the sovereignty of God, but I sure did struggle to see it sometimes. Isn't that the very definition of faith? Believing without seeing?

3. Being a missionary doesn't make you a biblical expert. I always viewed missionaries as the ones with all of the answers. Guess what - that's not even close to true. We wrestle with scriptures too. I loved the times where we, as a staff, would read something and at the end we would all be confused and left without answers. But we dove in anyway, and we sought after an understanding. It's not some magical gift we get when we become a missionary. We have to work at it too.

4. Holidays can suck. No matter how much I loved what I was doing and knew that I was right where I belonged, holidays away from family sucked. I spent two christmases away and I hated them. Part of the reason was that both years I was stuck in bed with really bad Malaria. However, a larger reason is that I missed my family. I could never escape the feeling that I was letting them down by not being with them on holidays. It sucks. Yet we push through it and cherish the times that we get to be with family and friends in the States - our first home. It's hard but the few minutes we can spend on the phone with loved ones means the WORLD to us. Hearing just one family member say that they're proud of us for the reason we're away makes the pain of being away manageable (notice, it doesn't take the pain away). The world has become so small with increasing technology. Still, on Holidays when I knew my family was together and I wasn't there I might as well have been on a different planet. 8,000 miles felt more like 8 million miles at those times.

5. Getting sick overseas can bring on some of the worst cases of homesickness. Seriously, every time I had bad cases of Malaria, I wanted to get better. But I REALLY wanted to be back home in the USA. Not for the medicine, I could get the same medicine (cheaper too) in Kenya. Not for the comfort of things. But for the comfort of family and friends. Those days being stuck in bed, barely able to move, all I really wanted was to see a family member. Someone to tell me that they hope I feel better soon.

6. We need encouragement too. Sounds simple. But so often forgotten. It's easy to think about a missionary living overseas and think to send a monetary donation. That's awesome. If you feel led to do that, by all means do so. BUT...though we may sometimes stress over financial support, there is a peaceful faith that comes with it. We know that we'll be taken care of. What we often need more than financial gifts is encouragement. A little note saying you're thinking about a missionary can make the entire week for someone. When you think about a missionary you know or support, send a little email. It doesn't have to be long - just long enough to let them know you're thinking about them. Especially around birthdays, holidays or anniversaries. It might take you 5 minutes but your email will be read with such excitement and joy over and over again.

7. We don't need financial gifts. We need support. This one ties into the above. You might not think that there is much difference in financial gifts and support. But there is a HUGE difference. I didn't realize how much difference there is until I left Kenya last year. It was then that I realized that I had support, not just money. The way that I was welcomed back into my community at home was such a blessing. I didn't just have people sending checks each month. I had people that were invested in me. And as a result, I am still cared for at home as well. When I left Kenya, I was forced out for refusing to pay a bird to the government. I was given 48 hours to be out of the country or be arrested. The amount of support that poured in still brings me to tears 9 months later. The emails, voice messages and get messages during that time were so desperately needed. Within hours of being kicked out, I had three different families open their home to me. One that drove over 4 hours to pick me up at the airport. This is not financial support. This is SUPPORT. This is relationship. THANK YOU TO ALL OF YOU!

8. Sometimes the spotlight is so bright that it burns. This may be something that I tended to place on myself more than anything else. But I often felt that there was this bright light over my life and everything I did was subject to scrutiny. Every time I bought a samosa (my favorite food over there!!) or anything as a treat for myself, I felt a pressure (again, mostly I placed it there) of what people would think. So many times I just wanted to turn the light off and blend into the background again. Back to a time where no one knew who I was.

9. Missionaries love to share our stories but we might not be ready right away. This one is tricky, so please be sensitive. I love to share stories about Kenya. I could talk for hours about my experiences. But sometimes, I just want to be alone too. Sometimes, usually after coming back into the US, it's difficult to start talking about it right away. Please don't be offended if your missionary friend isn't able or ready to talk about it right off of the plane. It is not a sign of disinterest or a lack of desire to share with you. He may just need a bit of time to decompress first. Believe it or not, returning to the US, even after a short term trip, is a HUGE culture shock. Be patient and know that when your friend is ready, you will be rocked by their stories.

10. We want to know about your life. This ties into the last one. We may send regular updates. We do so because we want you to be a part of the experience with us. But we also want to be a part of your life too. We want to know how you are doing. What is happening in YOUR life? Don't be afraid to send a note back with an update on you. Just because you're not the one living in another country doesn't make you any less interesting to us. Plus, it will allow us to feel connected to you too.

11. Burn out exists. My last summer working at camp, a man that I greatly admire, Steve, said something remarkable. He asked the question, "are you working for God or living for Him?". I thought that I had it down. I tried to take care of myself and have daily quiet times and a weekly sabbath. Unfortunately, that stopped at some point. There were times that I would go weeks without taking a true day off. I started to work for God, not live for God. This will always lead to burn out. It may not happen right away, but it will happen. Take care of yourself or you will leave the mission field burnt to a crisp.

12. Relationships are not perfect. I'm flawed and broken just like everyone else. When I became a missionary my life didn't all of a sudden fit neatly together. I still have broken relationships that I wish were able to be repaired. Moving 8,000 miles away doesn't fix them. In fact, it can actually put more of a strain on already fragile relationships. I know because I've had, and still have, plenty. It doesn't mean that we stop caring or trying. It means that we're just like everyone else. We live in a fallen and broken world. We are not above it.

13. We can leave the country but the country stays with us. I may feel peace about not returning to Kenya but those memories will ALWAYS be with me. I think of stories from In Step and the kids there that have had such an impact on me. I think of Peter Lojore and how some of the most difficult lessons I've ever learned came from his far too short life. I still think of the first time I had a legitimate death threat. I still think back to the street boys and how they became my friends, not my ministry. I think often of the time I got to talk with the local glue (cheap drug for street boys) dealer. I think about my little buddy Alex Juma (local street boy) and how free he was when I took a simple ball to town and had a catch with him. I so often think of how much I have grown and changed because of Kenya. My friend Daniel once told me not to go to Kenya expecting to change the country. But go expecting the country to change me. And it sure did. I am not the same man that I was in 2009 when I first boarded a plane to Kenya. I may have left Kenya, but I have not forgotten it. I never will.

14. I got used to life there. It became comfortable. Remember when earlier I said that moving there was not brave? This is why. Things made sense in Kenya. The phrase "this is Africa" (or "TIA" for short) was often uttered. Life was simpler. When something didn't make sense, it all of a sudden did because "it was Kenya". It may have been a running missionary joke, but there is a lot of truth to it.

15. I loved it. Even the parts I didn't like, I loved. These last two may sound a bit out of place with the other ones, but they're true. There were parts I may not have always liked. But I loved my life there. There was a deep sense of purpose; it mattered. I have peace about not being back right now. But I also miss it dearly.

Happy Thanksgiving

Can't believe it's been so long since I've blogged.  A whole lot has happened - and still is happening - since my last blog.

However, because today happens to be Thanksgiving, I am dedicating my first blog in nearly 3 months to a few things I'm thankful for.  

*  I am thankful that after being away for the past two Thanksgivings and Christmases, I am in the US and will spend this entire Holiday season with family.  

*  I am thankful that I will NOT have Malaria this Christmas (in fact, this may be the longest I've been Malaria free in over a year)!  I've had really bad Malaria the past two years on Christmas.  Believe me, being over 7,000 miles away from family around Christmas is hard enough, especially when the phone network is barely able to hold a phone call and internet is too slow for Skype.  Add in a bad case of Malaria and you start to hate Christmas.  

*  I am VERY thankful to not have spent any time in a Kenyan jail this year!  There were a few points when everything happened in August that I thought there was no way around that.  I cannot even begin to express how thankful I am for a random contact in Nairobi that was able to keep me out of jail, not having to pay a single bribe and get out of the country.  

*  I am thankful for my wonderful family at In Step in Kenya!  I have spend the past year living life with them and it's been wonderful.  I cannot wait to be back with them as soon as possible!

*  I am extremely thankful for the support of friends and family during this time.  I have been SO blessed by so many people after being kicked out of Kenya.  From a great couple allowing me to move into their home to tons of encouragement, to people offering me short term work, I feel like the most blessed guy in the world right now.  

*  I am thankful for Christmas decorations.  We've been slowly putting them up over the last week or two.  Last week we put up the tree and I am realizing that with the exception of one year, I have not had a Christmas tree in the home I'm living at in 11 years.  

There is so much more that I have to be thankful for this year, but this is just a brief spotlight.  What are you thankful for?  

stolen

In John 10 Jesus says, "The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy.  I have come that they may have life, and have it more abundantly."

Bold, isn't it?  I've long since believed that Jesus is not merely talking about eternal life - physical life.  No, no.  It's so much deeper than that.  He came to offer us life in every aspect of what we do.  Life in our work.  Life in our relationships.  Life.  Honestly, it's a large part of the reason why I left my previous job to pursue my dreams in Kenya.  I didn't have life in my job.  Sure, I did okay financially.  I had some nice perks.  I was treated pretty well.  And I was satisfied.  But I wasn't alive.  I went to work daily feeling more and more dead.  Not because of anything work related.  Because I was meant to do something different.  Something that would give me an abundance of life.  Kenya.

I've been in Kenya for the past 9 months now with In Step.  Nine amazing months of experiencing life in all that I do.  It doesn't mean that every day was easy.  Not even close.  It means that when I went to bed at night I felt alive.  I knew that I was right where I belonged.

In the past two weeks it seems like that life is what was ripped away.  Stolen.

I've been reflecting on this since I got back to the US on Tuesday.  It hit hard this morning.  It was 4AM again.  I haven't managed to sleep past 4AM yet.  I started thinking about why and all I could think was "because I'm not supposed to be here on this time zone.  I should still be in Kenya".  I'm sure that in a few days this jet lag will pass.  It always does.  But still, that feeling of life being stolen.  Thats heavy.

I re-read this verse this afternoon.  I started thinking about what we do when things are stolen.  We file a police report, or find a way to either replace or get back that which was stolen.

That's my plan.  I plan to get that life back.  I know that things will not be this way forever.  Immigration will re-open and begin processing the visas I need.  For now, I'm reflecting on how to still experience life.  I'm questioning what is my purpose in the meantime?

I wish I had answers.  I'm sure that in time I will.  For now, I'll have to be patient and rest on my faith.  My faith that this will be sorted out.

Integrity

I've been thinking about that word a lot this past 10 days.  A whole lot.  11 days ago I was in Kenya talking to Julia about my visa.  I was leaving the next morning to take my motorcycle to Eldoret to get some minor work done and renew my visa.  And get a pizza.  10 days ago everything changed.  It's why I'm writing this blog in PA right now.

I am not going to go into all of the details right now.  But I'll put the short version of what happened here.  Basically, when I tried to renew my visa the Immigration Officer wanted me to have this new "special pass".  After a long day with him threatening to arrest me, etc, I left with no passport; he confiscated it until I applied for this new special pass.  A pass which, by the way, is only given out if you are a contractor such as one that builds roads, etc.  Also, a pass that is not being processed right now - it's impossible to get.  Eventually, this guy had the boldness to come out and say that he was looking for a bribe.  In fact, his words were "any normal person would have paid me and this would be over by now".

A bribe.  Unfortunately, in Kenya bribes are very common.  In fact, some say that it's the cost of living in Kenya and that sometimes you have to pay some people off.

I wish I could say that I never even considered it.  But that would be a lie.  Oh, I did consider it.  I could have gotten off cheap too.  I could have slipped the guy a few thousand shillings (about 30-40 bucks worth maybe?) and been on my way.  He's right.  It would have been over.  But it wouldn't truly be over, now would it?

Like I said, I thought about it.  I knew what he was really looking for.  I knew it even more when he threatened to have me arrested.  He knew I knew too.  It's weird, that unspoken exchange that happens.  So I sat there knowing that he wanted a bribe and considered it for a time.  But I just couldn't do it.  I moved to Kenya wanting to begin to break that cycle of corruption.  How could I play into it just because it would benefit me?  Is it wrong just when others do it but okay if I pay a bribe to get what I need to stay in Country?  Of course not.  A bribe is wrong no matter what.  So I pushed the thought away.  Because of that a long string of other things happened.  And in the end, this guy did not get a bribe.  And I am back in the US for an undetermined length of time.

As I thought about bribing the man, I thought through the consequences.  It would have meant paying more than just that single bribe.  I'd have to live with that for the rest of my life.  And this guy would be able to hold that over me every single time he saw me.  If I ever went back to the Immigration Office for anything at all with him there, he'd own me.  And how about the next time someone wants a bribe? I believe that once you start down that slope it gets harder and harder to stop.  You start to justify future bribes based on past ones.  All of a sudden everyone owns you.

So I did what I knew was right.  I stood firm.  He threatened to arrest me - I called someone to send me a lawyer.  He confiscated my passport - I walked away.  He took me to his supervisor - I (through a very helpful contact in Nairobi) went to his supervisor's head boss.  He told me that it was pay him for this special pass (which I know would have ended up being a fake for reasons I won't go into right now) or leave the country - I left the country.

So, it sucks.  I spent the past 9 months building a life in Kenya.  And in the past 10 days it feels like it was all ripped away.  And that sucks.  But I know that it is temporary.  I know that I am supposed to be in Kenya and that I'll be back soon.  And when I go back it will be the right way.  Without paying a single person off.  And that's worth every single dollar and every ounce of pain that it cost to leave the country in a hurry.

I keep thinking back to the Jack Bauer quote:

"You can look the other way once, and it's no big deal, except it makes it easier for you to compromise the next time, and pretty soon that's all your doing; compromising, because that's the way you think things are done. You know those guys I busted? You think they were the bad guys? Because they weren't, they weren't bad guys, they were just like you and me. Except they compromised... Once."

I'm proud to say that I didn't compromise this time.  Because I also think that the reverse is true.  When we hold firm and refuse to compromise, it's hard.  But it's easier the next time.  I don't know that the temptation is ever fully gone.  But it gets easier to stand against it.