I was unsure whether I would write another blog on my time in Kenya. At first, I wasn’t confident I had anything left to share. Now that I’ve been home for a little over a week I found some courage for one last blog.

My summer started off in a very precarious place–the last 6 months have been very dark. And I’ve been hesitant to share publicly about the impact that the cuts to foreign aid and losing my job have had one me. This blog is not the place to recount my experience with the dismantling of USAID and how it felt to be “put through the woodchipper,” but this is the mental place I was coming from when I arrived in Kenya.

5 weeks later I am in a much different place. The difference? Weeks of conversations with Stella, Shield of Faith’s founder, about her life experiences as an aid worker and now leading a local NGO. Witnessing deadly riots that kept me apartment-bound the first few weeks. Evenings spent with Stella and her family at their apartment watching animated movies and giggling about Shrek quotes. A weekend spent up-country near Mount Kenya with dear friends, Monica and her son Elias, and their family. Endless chapati. Visiting different Nairobi coffee shop every weekend. Weekdays filled visiting Nairobi schools and meeting women who have been composting with Shield of Faith for years.

Without a doubt, Kenya saved me.

Stella, myself, and Sister Jacqueline (4K Club Sponsor) enjoying time at Jacqueline’s home.

Stella and Gill, an long-time friend of the Advocacy Project, who has helped on many a quilting projects!

Tea fields in Mount Kenya

Myself and Elias, Monica’s son, after a weekend up-country enjoying home-cooked meals and monkey sightings.

The peaceful view from Stella’s apartment.

Some of the Children Peace Initiative Kenya team reuniting (Francis, myself, Monica).

Ruth and I spending time in her new maize crops.

Don’t get me wrong, I channeled a lot of anger into chopping wood while building that Keyhole Garden! But in that moment, I would also find myself looking over at Stella or the teachers who had jumped in to help, and find myself laughing at a joke and asking questions. For the first time in months I laughed without also wanting to cry. (Kenyan hospitality has a way of making you in a better mood even if you don’t want to be).

I arrived in Kenya with some big wounds and a deep desire for connection. I left with new friends, new ideas, and hope for what’s to come. I’m not sure what my next steps will be–but I do know that life goes on. And for the first time in months I’m excited about that prospect.

Mercy, myself, and Monica after completing the Nairobi Marathon fun run.

My first, AND LAST, boda boda ride!