Wewe Ni Wetu

The title is pronounced wayway knee waytwo

it means you belong to us.

This is how I came to let myself be known and loved. The work was only by Jesus.

In the fall, taking a semester off was not in my plan. I had come to love the people I chose to invest in at UT. but then I found myself applying for an internship position and life hasn't looked the same since. A few months later, I was sent off to Atlanta and then to East Africa with four strangers. like I said, a new community was not on my agenda. I was content with the small number I had. but when Jesus gets involved things start to look a little different, don't they?

week 1 - I'm just a few days into life in Kenya. I am outside Johannes' house with a book in the heat of the day. I'm bent over the words that make seeing through these watery eyes difficult. this is me and I know it.  right there: God showed me just how broken I really was. and I felt naked and bare. what I didn't know was the hearts of the people sitting around me. I wouldn't let them in, though they tried their hardest to lean in close. thankfully, they saw something in me that I didn't see just yet.

week 2 - I sit in a small house made for 2 with 13 other people. we worship - Paul teaches me about the different tribes. we laugh. we talk about the faithfulness of God in droughts. we eat too much chapatti and drink too much coke. I practice my swahili and learn what 1st century CHURCH really looks like in the raw sense of it all. I am beginning to feel God breaking down my walls like never before.

week 3 - I am sitting on Kadie's couch. Carson doesn't love me. don't believe that lie for one second, Em. walk downstairs and tell Carson what you just told me. I cry on the steps for 5 minutes before I go. Carson and I sit for hours on the water tower talking about how much Jesus loves us both and that if we both would stop being so stubborn we could love each other like the sisters we are. and I feel it after that, God telling me it was okay to let myself be loved. and I do, I try. and it's different than anything else I've ever known. but it's free.

week 4 - Irene calls for dinner as I finish up one email back home. I walk in to the living room with everyone in party hats and smiles. it's the night before my 20th birthday. a sign hangs next to the picnic table:  H A P P Y B D A Y E M ! each letter with writing that spelled out all the things they love about me that start with that letter. I am choking up trying to hold back tears. in my head I think, "for the first time in my life, I feel known and loved in a very deep way." My words couldn't tell them how I felt. my favorite letter was B: baby whisperer, brainiac, beautiful, better than any other emily, bae, beyond deep, best at fixing our macs, blessing. we eat burrito bowls, chase zebras, dance and dance, eat nutella cake, pig out on ice-cream, and share our favorite things about each other.

week 6 - Carson, Stephen, Kadie, Anna, and I tear up as we say our final goodbyes to the Kenyans. Harun has become a dad to us all - johannes a brother - Paul a source of JOY - Peter a wise counselor. they say: come back soon my sister - we will be praying for your quick return. and it's not because they need me to come back. it's because they want me to come back so that we can live life together again. our time together was spent mostly belly laughing and sharing chai. and every day I sip a cup of chai in the states, I remember my brothers and sisters both Kenyan and American and give thanks for them. I have peace as I board the plane because God whispers softly, "you will be back. do not worry."

My time in Africa had many moments, but the ones I remember most are not the awkwardness of a Kenyan funeral or the late nights fixing that one printer (though I somehow see the joy in those moments as i look back). it's the community that I didn't know I needed. it's the breaking of bread and bananas & a Kenyan hymn in the early mornings. it's the richness of Jesus in every conversation, every hug, every Tuanani Badai (because we never dare say Kohetti which means goodbye). it's every elated greeting and goofy picture taken. it's every tear when our time had come to an end.

I used to believe community was just a want. Now I believe it is a need. we need one another. not just in the worship and praise, but in the hard and messy. We need to have the freedom to say "i need you to love me" and space for the other to say "i will love you no matter what."

isn't that what Jesus wanted all along? for us to be like family? for us to live in community? for us to share laughs and bread and talk about things other than the weather? to join in the joy and the sorrow that life has to offer? I think he did.

When we allow ourselves to be known and loved fully - we can hear our hearts leaping within our chest, "YES! finally. I belong." wewe ni wetu.