A Story in Three Parts – Part 1

I’ve been teaching a women’s seminar on about half the Thursdays that I’ve been at Uswaa. I’m teaching about how women can be a caring presence in the lives of other women.

At the very first session I introduced them to “highs and lows.” Something I learned way back when I was working at camp and an activity we often do even now with our confirmation kids. It’s simple, you pair up with another person (or group of people) and each person shares their high for the day and their low for the day. The good and the bad things they’ve experienced.

We’ve been focusing our study on Romans 12:15 – “Be happy with those who are happy, and weep with those who weep.”

In the picture below, Mama Nelson (on the left) is sharing highs and lows with Mama Manda.

 Mama Nelson has attended each and every one of these sessions. She is always there in the front row and when it is time to break into groups for sharing she takes on the assignments with earnest.

At the beginning of the second session she came up to the desk and handed me a brown envelope, it was addressed to Mchungaji Sara (Pastor Sara.) The letter was all in Swahili, but after class one of the pastors translated it for me and she basically wanted to tell me two things. Thank you for being my pastor and would you please come and visit my home. I made a promise to her that I would come and visit her.

Every time we meet for class Mama Nelson comes to find me to ask me if I remember the promise I’ve made to her. I have continually assured her that I do remember and I will come. But yet every time I see her my stomach sinks just a little bit because I know I have hesitated to fulfill my promise.

I’ll be honest about my hesitation. Sometimes it can feel a bit like people want me to visit them because they have financial needs that they think I can fix. I knew about Mama Nelson’s concern for her son’s education and I was nervous her main motivation for the letter and invitation was to see if I could pay for secondary school for her son.

I did visit her on Monday, but that story comes later. As I now reflect on Part One, I know that the desperation in this woman’s plea was not for some quick fix, but just for a pastor to listen to her. Let me just say how blessed I was to be that pastor.