It's the little things

That make me happy to be home...

1. Not only Elizabeth, but Cass & Kelli surprising me at the airport last night!
2. Running water that I can drink straight from the tap.
3. Internet access in my bedroom.
4. Talking with my parents and friends on a cell phone that I didn't have to prepay for...for as long as I wanted to.
5. Hot showers - guaranteed.
6. Coffee that is brewed.

And sad to be gone...

1. My apartment is packed full of crap I don't need. I got by on so little in Kenya.
2. I never knew what time it was, and I'm constantly aware of it's ticking now that I'm back.
3. The lack of easy access to internet or cell phones makes you insanely present.
4. Wearing no makeup and the same clothes made me feel so beautiful.
5. The food. I've got to learn how to make chipati.

Le sigh.

It feels good/weird/familiar/uncomfortable/different/soothing to be back in Kansas City.

After about 30 hours of flights, and a few interesting travel stories, I'm back at my lovely little apartment. So far, I've been using my day off from work to recoup and adjust before I resume American normalcy tomorrow.

I'm just a little worse for the wear, minus one suitcase (hopefully floating its way back to me from Brussels) and plus one little headcold that all the travelers had. All in all, I feel really lucky and blessed to have returned safe.

Thank you for your prayers, support and love. I could feel it stretched out across the ocean, and I took you all with me. It felt good to know that I have such a strong support system at home. After about 7 days, I missed you all so fiercely that it hurt.

I mean, although Kenya was great and beautiful and uplifting, it doesn't have sh*t on you guys :)

I'll post pictures in the next few days (trust me, I took PLENTY) and over time, we'll work through all that was Kenya on these pages.

I had a fantastic time, and now I'm happy as hell to be home. So happy, in fact, that I think I'll take another nap in this comfy bed of mine.

A glimpse of heaven

Sorry for the lack of posts. As they say in Kenya, Hakuna Matata (no worries). All is well, I am happy, blessed and contented...but mostly tired. Hence the lack of posting, and email has been a little spotty.

There are so many moments, and I feel obligated to share them all, especially with those of you that have been so supportive, but I know they'll be revealed over time.

One of my favorite parables from scripture is when Jesus compares the kingdom of heaven to a pearl found buried in a field. After a man finds it, he reburies it, sells all he has, and buys the field.

Kenya is my pearl, and this was a mere molecule that makes it so beautiful -

Yesterday at Missionaries of Charity, I sat with the women that work at the orphanage. They were done having tea, and I brought my photos to show them (many which feature you!). They LOVEDLOVEDLOVED it. I told them I work for the opera. To their ears, ohp-rah sounds like Oprah. The LOKC folks ought to like that :)

Anyway, they asked me to sing - no DEMANDED that I do. A spectacular thing happened. Ally Moore got embarassed. But, when seven Kenyan women pull you up, pull out your chair and sit in expectation, you better deliver.

So I sang. I sang Amazing Grace and almost cried. These women sang with me. Women from a world away, in matching outfits sang in broken English and swayed as I performed for them.

After that, one woman, Sarah, went to get her song book, and we spent the next two hours singing hymns, songs and poems to each other. As my group PULLED me away to leave for the afternoon, I had time for one last song, which I thought was terribly perfect. U2's I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For.

In the song, Bono says,
"I have run,
I have walked,
I have scaled these city walls,
these city walls,
only to be with you."

I have saved. I have prayed. I have cried. I have wept.

I have scaled this hurdle, only to be with the truth.

To see God's face. To touch his people. To see heaven.

Asante sana, yahweh.

Thank you, God.

pole pole

(slowly by slowly)

I'm in Kenya!!!!! After nearly 27 hours in the air, I'm halfway across the world typing this.

I'm feeling a million things all at once, and it's going to take me time and perspective to sort through how I'm feeling about all of this. So, my plan is to post one or two times while I'm here with details of what I'm doing, and then dissect it later with photos. I need silence.

______________________________________________________________

Right now, it's 6:19 in Nairobi, and I think I've done more today than I ever thought possible!!! We got up and had breakfast - coffee, fruit, toast, hardboiled eggs...etc. The rooms at Kolping are nice. I'm staying with three other girls, and we all have our own beds. It's great. I slept like a log last night...thanks to a Tylenol PM and one messed up sleep schedule :)

We're staying in the nicer part of town where travelers are, and we have our own security guards and a fence around the place. Almost everyone has fenced compounds with glass or barbed wire on top. I asked Julius if it was because people are really worried, and he says it's mostly because if someone breaks in, the police aren't as responsive...especially to native Kenyans. It's weird. If that was us, the reaction would be totally different. The hotels are like Fort Knox. Everyone loves us because we're white. It's sort of an odd feeling to be ashamed of your privilege. I'd never fullly understood it in America.

It's hard to put everything into words. Today we visited both Missionaries of Charity (Mother Teresa's group) and Villa Teag (Julius' family's orphanage). MOC is maybe a little nicer, but the children are primarily infants, young or special needs. One of the sisters talked with us today about how most of the children get there. It's pretty graphic, but suffice it to say, most of them are brought there because they're unwanted or semi-aborted. The sisters nurse them back to life and take care of them. You want to talk about happy and poor...they've got it figured out.

VT is children aged 4-13, from what we saw today. It's not as nice of a facility, but the kids are precious. I'd like to spend more time there, but I'm not sure what we'll be doing. They did a little skit/song thing for us, and got us up to shake our butts...it was so cute. They sang this song that says "people say you're unattractive, but we think you're cute, now get up and shake it." You stand up and shake your hips and these little babies were shakin' it like a rap video. It was so unsexual, but really tribal. They got rhythm :)

I've been practicing my swahili and the Kenyans love it. You should see how excited they get when you talk to them!!! This place is like heaven. It's not always pretty, but it's real. I can't believe I'm here. I keep pinching myself and crying.

I feel like I was born to be here.

On a (several) jet plane(s)

It's here. Wow.

After a great send-off with Kelli, Cass & E last night (Office Space, Pizza Hut, Sonic Limeades and Bridget Jones) I actually got some good sleep. My usually overexcited mind thinks of all sorts of stuff I need, but for the first time ever, I'm ridiculously prepared for this trip.

I suppose that's what 9 months of waiting will do to a girl. Prepare her.

Anyway, I just wanted to thank all of you that have been a part of this. The reason that I'm getting to take this voyage is because of your constant love and support. I hope you all know how loved and appreciated you are, and that I won't take one second of this blessing for granted.

It's sort of funny that I changed my quote on the sidebar a few months ago. I just prayed for a little while, and that verse immediately popped in to my mind. He certainly does make everything right in His own time. I'm living proof.

SO....adieu, adieu, to you, and you, and you. I'm getting on a plane in a few hours, and I've got the last few things to attend to before I depart.

I love you all...updates as soon as I can post.

Kwaheri (Goodbye),
a-gator

αγάπη (love)

Sometimes I ask myself questions just for the purpose of moving stuff around internally.

Today, this one was floating around.

Q: What's gotten me to this point in my life?
A: Love.

Love is a powerful force.

It's like a strong wind pushing from behind. You can fight it, but you end up wherever it takes you.

It doesn't just direct - it's also reciprocal.

When two people have a love for each other - platonic, spiritual or intimate - huge things happen. Knowledge spreads. Worlds change. Pain is forgotten. Confidence is gained.

Sifting through my life, I can see this back and forth playing out.

Because my parents loved me intensely and encouraged me, I've always had confidence in myself.

Because I love them, I wanted to be someone good and loving and make them proud.

-We've built a relationship that while at times tumultuous, is always there.

Because God calls me his beloved, I jump off cliffs and know whether I soar or smack, there's something important to be learned.

Because I love God, I've sacrificed important things and people to keep my heart from hardening to his voice.

-We've built a promise that transcends all outside understanding.

Because my friends love me, they helped send me across the sea and have bandaged a few wounds.

Because I love them, I do the same.

-We've built a community that bears each others burdens with ease.

---------------------------------

I'm excited to see how this pattern of love's reciprocity will touch my heart with regards to Africa.

I'm sure I will love it fiercely, and it will love me back too.

bandaged up

"It's really very easy to be a writer; all you have to do is sit down at the typewriter and open a vein." Sportswriter Red Smith

Thanks for indulging yesterday's bloodletting. Onward.

So, God and I had a little chat last night. In his infinite wisdom, He reminded me of two things:

1. Allyson Marie Moore is not God (i.e. stop trying to gain control over the unknown)
2. Kenya is a gift - not a burden.

As I happen to like giving presents, I'll assume that God does too. In that case, I'll be a good little girl and accept this pretty little one that I'll be unwrapping soon.

I'm packing up the last suitcase tonight :)

Today's Soundtrack: Hell Yes - Beck - Guero

Like a rocking chair...

Today's post will not be eloquent, but it will be real.

FDR was right on when he said the only thing to fear was fear itself. It drains you. Fear is a damning thing.

Maybe I should be more specific - unchecked worry not related to a specific thing is damning.

It's like being pinned down the ground on your stomach. You're not really sure what or who is holding you down or how you could break free. You can't see the culprit when your nose is in the dirt.

I didn't sleep very well last night. I'd start to fall asleep, and then I'd wake up with a start. Something is pinning me down.

I wish I could identify what's making me worried or nervous or excited or anxious or penitent or prayerful, but it feels like a cloud of gray stuff swirling around. I can't reach into it and pluck out a single issue.

I wish I could point to a specific fear about Kenya, but I can't.

I wish I could give voice to the murkiness of worry, but I can't. I feel haunted by it.

I don't like waiting in uncertainty, and it seems that something is hellbent on making me stare down that discomfort before I get on the plane.

To be clear, I'm not entirely sure it's God. It's more like I'm bent on destroying the loveliness of this gift by worrying it to death.

The way I figure it, over the next five days, I can either push into this confusion and work it out on the page or over last-minute beers with my friends...or I can pretend this feeling isn't there and toss around in bed every night, trying to will myself to sleep.

If you know me, you know I don't pretend very well. Ergo, you get to help me weed through it today.

I know that we've all had moments of confusion when we're challenged to undertake something big, but it feels very lonely to go through it by yourself. Sort of like David facing Goliath right now.

I'm supposed to be brave and excited. I'm supposed to have all the confidence and peace in my spirit because God has led me here and placed the provision in front of my feet.

But today, I'm just not feeling very brave. I'm weak. I can't control sh*t.

So, I'm honestly confessing this to you and to God:

I need help.

I need you to be with me over the next few weeks while I can't find words and need to borrow yours.

I need your prayers when saying "thank you" is about all I can get out.

I need you to not ask me how "excited" I am. (Because I feel like a big doubter for admitting that I'm more afraid than excited today.)

I need you to sit with me and be my strength.

I need you to love me because I'm honest, not because I'm brave.

...and above all else, I need you to know that I'll feel completely differently about not being ready when I set foot in Kenya.

Happiness is...

Hanging with my Pops!!!

My Dad gets in to KC in t-minus 24 hours. (Rumor has it he wants to see his baby before she potentially gets eaten by a lion.)

On our agenda:
1. Driving with the windows down and Led Zeppelin up...LOUD.
2. Enlisting his overqualified volunteer assistance to pass out Lyric Opera flyers at KC's outdoor Shakespeare Festival. (By the way, in next year's LOKC version of Hamlet, "To be or not to be" will be sung in the key of E. Just in case you were curious.)
3. Following our hard work, we'll eat so much Gates BBQ I'll have to look for a second stomach to make room.
4. After my bro finishes up his dinner shift at Buca di Beppo, I anticipate hitting the town and kicking back with my best boys.
5. On the p.m. agenda - Order. Newcastle. Repeat.
6. The whole shennanigan will be topped off with an unneccessarily artery-clogging Sunday breakfast at some little diner.

You gotta love family. My Momma's on the way to Florida right now for our annual vacation, and the boys follow this next week. Le sigh. It's the first time in 25 years I won't be there with them.

I'll be missing them sorely as they soak up the sun and I hang with giraffes and little kids.

In tribute to my Dad's arrival, tomorrow's soundtrack is: Babe I'm Gonna Leave You - Led Zeppelin - How the West Was Won (Disc 3)

This is my favorite Led Zep song, and one of the first my Dad & checked out and dissected together.

The entire band just wails on the chorus sections. It's really worth listening to four different times to focus in on one instrument.
John Bonham sounds like he's going to bash holes in the drums.
Jimmy Page is bipolar, plucking delicately and abusing the strings while driving the tempo later.
John Paul Jones' bass line is mesmerizing and makes the six and a half minute track zoom by in a fleeting moment.
And then there's Robert Plant. Between his singing, humming, wailing and screaming, you can't tell if he wants her to come back or run away, but you know it's good.

Rock out.

A little daydream

This morning I was on a rant. I wrote this long post about how much the media pisses me off and how there is so much more to cover and blahblahblah - but then I had to drop off a document to our ticket office.

To get from my office (on stage right of the Lyric Theatre) to the ticket office (on the opposite side of the building) I have walk through our upstairs lobby.

Right now there's nothing happening on stage, so it's dark everywhere and there's no one around. I decide on my way back to stop and take advantage of a small break in the day. Life's been crazy recently.

I remember making this walk a year ago as a new hire. I spent a lot of time up here thinking of how lucky I am to work in an actual theatre...not a vacuous "life-space" surrounded by other cubicles.

I sigh and give thanks for ending up where I did. God's good.

As I pause, I can make out light reflections off of the glass that encases years of memories hung on the lobby's walls. I pause and stare at our greatest moments of history. Carmen is halted - frozen in her classic habanera pose, hands clasped above her head. Next to her thirty-some odd people and an elephant appear shocked during the triumphant march in Aida.

I breathe in deeply and exhale hard, slowing my thoughts down. I like to stop and think out here. Something about being surrounded by art is healing - even if they are unfamiliar images suspended in time.

Reflected in the glass, I can see a faint light behind me wafting in through the balcony curtain. The work light must be up on stage.

There's time for daydreaming.

I ascend the steep steps and pop out into the empty theatre. Its silence is stilling. The energy of a year's worth of creativity likes to hang around. I can feel its phantom presence.

If I listen hard, I can almost hear the remnants of a soprano warming up backstage, her smooth voice trilling up and down and across and through space as she navigates each octave with precision.

If I focus my eyes long enough, I can almost see a lithe pair turning their heads in unison, finding a spot at the back of the room, trying to focus as their bodies become the air, floating out of the choreography Balanchine imagined and becoming transcendent.

Everyday I work amongst the trappings of beauty. In this theatre, the past and the future seem to coexist in one space. It is capable of containing all the memories of the past and the dreams of the future.

Sitting in the black stillness, I breathe in deeply again. I am blessed.

I frequently come up here to pray, and I guess that's because every time I walk through this theatre, I feel God's presence acutely. It's like a church dedicated to worshipping God's creative influences.

Oppositely, I can feel the hunger, drive, passion and desire of this cultural coliseum - its gladiators thrown down and torn apart by callous directors or spiteful critics with sharp pens.

This art may appear larger than life, but its actors are mere flesh and blood, long forgotten, now raising children in Sheboygan or beat up on in New York, their influences simply a flicker of enjoyment for a brief second in time.

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

As I walk back down the stairs to finish my work and wrap up the original post for today, I realize how fleeting a moment of outrage is. Any musings of complaint would be ungrateful to a God that created all this. And right now, I'm a part of something timeless.

Today's Soundtrack: Lie In Our Graves - Dave Matthews Band - Crash

time traveling

There was a fantastic woman in my sorority named Rebecca. She was (what I thought to be) a pretty charismatic Christian, and most of the time she wigged me out. She talked extremely openly about God, spiritual gifts, speaking in tongues and the like.

At the time, I was living a pretty wild life - one that had very, very little to do with God. As such, she was the sort of girl who I didn't know how to take in because it would mean dealing with my own neuroses.

(She did inspire me to see God in a different context when I desperately needed it, but that's a story for another day.)

Differences aside, the thing I remember most about Rebecca is that she used to pray all the time. She once laid hands on my mother (who was raised very Catholic) after she fell down the stairs. This memory still creeps my Mom out to this day.

Beyond healing and discernment, I remember that she prayed for EVERY little thing. Parking spaces, a streetlight to change, the right words to say at a particular moment…you know, really huge stuff.

At the time, I thought it was pretty jacked up that she thought God was like a genie, and I called her out on it. The Catholic in me thought that you were “supposed to” use prayer for only the most pressing needs. Small stuff must inconvenience God. She said that she felt like God wanted to bless her and give her good things. She wanted Him involved in the littlest of details.

This last weekend, I ran across this verse and it made me think of her prayers for the small things:

"Delight yourself in the LORD
and he will give you the desires of your heart."
- Psalm 37:4

During my 4th of July sabbatical, I thought a lot about the desires of my heart. I took them apart and poked and prodded them for awhile. I needed to clean out the cobwebs, polish the good things, and throw away the bad.

As I examined them, I found that I was able to rest in the stark differences of my yearnings over the last few years. Five years ago, when I remember these moments with Becca, some of my heart's wishes were decidedly futile. Most were vastly opposite from today.

But some aches were very much the same then as they are now.

As I mulled this over, the verse took greater root in my heart and I caught something I've missed. The key to this verse (and to keeping God from being genie-like) is in the first part - "delight yourself in the LORD."

Until about two years ago, I no idea what delighting IN God meant. I knew a lot about delight FROM God, but just being happy IN Him? I knew nothing about that.

It's clear to me that Becca got that part of the verse. Her whole life (even the parts that were odd to me) just plain delighted in the Lord. Her connection was so strong that she knew he'd take care of the small desires as well as the big ones.

The woman I'm becoming is getting what it means to delight. This means something different to each person. To Becca, a parking spot was delightful. To me, cheese, music and good coffee is delightful.

I even throw up my own prayers when my iPod breaks. I guess it's not all that different from a parking spot.

Today's Soundtrack: Traveling Miles - Cassandra Wilson - Traveling Miles
Book recommendation: The Time Traveler's Wife - Audrey Niffenerger