I cried today for the first time since I've been in Kenya. It wasn't the first time I wanted to cry. It was just the first time that something hit me hard enough to make me. In fact, I'm not done with my cry as I type. The story goes like this:
For the past month, every spare minute of mine has been spent preparing for Vacation Bible School. We expected up to 600 kids, at two different schools.
I've built this curriculum from the ground up. I wrote the program, designed the lessons, adapted the stories, researched games, songs, crafts... all with a tiny budget and limited resources.
I had hour-long meetings once a week with my group of girls and got their input, their ideas, comments, suggestions... and designed the entire week (three hours per day at each school). It's been nerve-wracking at times, frustrating, but overall a great amount of fun. And I have to say I thrive on this kind of stuff.
VBS is this week. I warned the girls ahead of time that today, the first day, would be chaotic. It wasn't as bad as I anticipated. In fact, I can't wish for a better group to step up to the challenge. But, there were some problems we encountered that needed to be addressed, so we had a meeting this evening.
One of the girls thought she was funny. Someone asked me a question in German and I responded in German. This girl (from Switzerland) goes, "I don't like it when she [me] speaks German. It sounds funny." I gave her a raised eyebrow and moved on. When we were talking about the craft, she held it up and laughed at it. "I can't imagine the kids doing this," she said. Then, after a very productive meeting that left everyone feeling ever-so-much better about tomorrow's plan, she got up and said, "So, did we actually talk about anything? Did we accomplish anything?"
Ha. Ha. I wasn't laughing. I was hurt beyond measure. This girl has been to NONE of the planning meetings. In fact, she just told me yesterday that she was coming to VBS and I had to figure out what to do with her at the last minute. She wasn't there for any of the planning. So actually, she had no right to criticize anything.
So there I was, feeling sorry for myself, when Terry asked me how it went. I told her the story (with support from my roommates) and she gave me some sage advice, as she always does. She told me the story of Punchinello. She told me that God thinks I did a great job on the VBS. She reminded me that God likes me. Not just loves me. Likes me. I'm starting to write down the things she says because I think she's a lot like me (only thirty-some years older)and I know she's been through a lot of the same issues.
She knew that I was dealing with a self-esteem issue (not everyone thinks my work is amazing! It's the end of the world!) and she set me straight. "Forget your self-esteem. It's not about yourself. It's about God and His Kingdom. She doesn't get to judge you because she didn't make you. God thinks you're the greatest thing since sliced bread! You're His favorite. Where was your heart? In doing a great job or doing a mediocre job? Remember, God looks at the heart, not the outward appearance."
So when I came up to my room to cry myself to sleep, this was on my pillow:
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