Night buses, matatus, and visas, oh, my!

Ladies and gentlemen, it is almost 12 in the morning, and I am still up, trying to avoid both going to bed and packing. I don't like packing, especially when I know I have to travel 8 out of the next 10 days! I'm spending Christmas and New Year's upcountry. Tomorrow night, I'm leaving on a night bus to ride to western Kenya. Ever ride on a Kenyan bus? on Kenyan roads? at night? This is NOT Greyhound. I'll arrive at Kisumu at a fresh 4 am where we'll have to catch another bus to the border town of Busia, where a coworker and I will visit my friend's family scattered around the area. The main mode of transportation will be stuffing ourselves inside a taxi van of sorts, called a "matatu," which is known for crazy driving, blaring music, and packing in their riders. We'll be going to a Christmas service, catching fish (okay, maybe just buying them) from Lake Victoria, touring Busia, and buying up tons of bananas. After that, I'll hop the border to **Uganda** and spend two days there and get my passport stamped with another country's visa (score!). I'll miss New Year's in Uganda by a day, and instead will celebrate on the other side of the border in Busia. After the official start of the new year, it's off to Nairobi again, back home, just in time to celebrate my birthday (January 2nd, tell all your friends). So no chance of hearing from me for a while. Until then, Christmas Njema na Mwaka Mpya Mwema!
Now how am I going to avoid packing?

Things You Can Only Say in Kenya

There are some things I won't be able to take back home with me:
1) "Wanna go to a hotel?" Hotels here are little little restaurants, usually equipped with just a wooden table and wooden benches that serve tea and little foods. People usually go here before work, and frequent them throughout the day. Knowing this, it's still funny when you lean over to your coworker and in a whisper ask, "Wanna go to a hotel?"
2) "I need to buy a rock." Why on earth would anyone buy a rock? To eat it, of course. Yeah, they eat rocks here. Edible rocks, of course. They're so soft, you can break them, but they taste like dirt!
3) "Did we blow up the VCR?" Apparently, you need a transformer and apparently it's not the big box sitting on my floor that everything else is hooked up to.
4) "Wow, you're looking fat!" I will NEVER utter this in the States.
5) "Then the monkeys interrupted my lesson." And it was going to be a good one! We were at the park here, and I had to teach the girls just a 15 minute lesson on their worth, but the monkeys came, after our snacks, and after the third try to get back on track, I called it off. Stupid monkeys!!
6) "As long as I don't see its head." For celebrations, we usually have goat. Freshly slaughtered. So this phrase is often said here, by mzungus and Kenyans alike.
7) "My name is finished." My name, Melissa, sounds like the word meliza, which means "finished." So when I introduce myself, I say, "My name is 'finished.'"
A brief glimpse into the Kenya-restricted sayings of my life.

Winter Heat and Other Christmas Atrocities

What is going on? While you are all cold, and miserable, or maybe not miserable if you're one of those Canadian or Swiss folk, I'm BAKING in the sun. Right now, it's a cool 7 at night, but got the doors and windows open, and in a minute, I'm going to get my clothes from off the line. I have been able to get a tan (working on it for the trip to the coast in January) the past couple of days, so now it actually looks like I've been in Kenya for 6 months! Still, I miss the busy holiday rush, and (imagine!) the traffic. There are a few lights strung here or there, but no constant cycle of Christmas carols. But Christmas is still coming. I feel like I'm in Whoville. Man, you would think that Christmas is more than just about the marketing!

Angels Choir

It's been decided. I have heard the voice of angels. Now, since I've been here, I've heard amazing voices, which lift me to the heights of Heaven. But, yesterday at church, the Nairobi Chambers Choir sung for us. And they were amazing. Literally breath-taking. I could not believe that people could sound so sweet. From the first note till the last song, my mouth was dropped, and I was hooked. I could not stop talking about them all day long! As my friend says, I can't put it into words. So you'll have to trust me that they were beautiful.
It makes me think that if people can sound so good, then what will the angels sound like that fall before the Throne of God, exclaiming, "Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God almighty?" Will I ever find it ordinary? Or will the voice of angels always have such a lasting impression? If mere humans can take my breath away by the first note, how will I react to heavenly voices singing to the King?
Then that makes me think that if angels will sound more magnificent than what I heard yesterday, what will the voice of God Himself sound like? It says in Ps 33, "For the word of the Lord is right and true," which generally means the Bible and the Law. But it goes on to say, "By the word of the Lord were the heavens made, their starry hosts by the breath of his mouth....For He spoke and it came to be." This is about God's voice. If people can sound like angels, and angels sound better than that, what does the voice that created and sustains all creation sound like? It says (somewhere) that God will sing over us. Our only response is what Ps 33 tells us to do: Worship the Lord. With our bad voices, or okay voices, or angelic human voices, we, in response to hearing God's voice, will sing back to him praises.
"Mtakatifu, mtakatifu, mtakatifu, Bwana, Mungu Mwenye Nguvu." (Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty.)

World AIDS Day

Not only is it December, but it's the first day of December, and we all know that means World AIDS Day! Today, bow your head in prayer to God and plead with Him on behalf of those who are sick because of this disease, for the orphans, for the widowed, and for the grieving. Also praise Him for those who are alive and strong, who are infected but not yet dead, thanks to ARVs (anti-retroviral drugs), and pray for those who are living in such a way that they put themselves at risk. I read an article on Yahoo about how the rate of young adult infections have increased in America. We need people to know the risks, and take this disease seriously!
AIDS is an equalizer. It strikes if you are good or bad. It strikes if you are young, old, or in between. It strikes if you never put yourself at risk knowingly. It strikes mothers, fathers, children, lovers. It strikes if you are straight or gay, black or white, Indian or Asian. It strikes without discrimination. And if you aren't careful, it could strike you.
Jesus is an equalizer, too. He loves you if you are good or bad. He loves you if you're young, old, or in between. He loves you if you never let yourself know Him. He loves mothers, fathers, children, lovers. He loves you if you are straight or gay, black or white, Indian or Asian. He loves without discrimination. And if you want to, He could love you.
Psalm 27:10 Though my father and mother forsake me, the LORD will recieve me.
Zaburi 27: 10 Hata kama wazazi wangu wakinitupa, Mwenyezi-Mungu atanipokea kwake.

What does Melissa dancing look like?

Bless that little Australian, Elf, the nurse that was working with us for four months, has posted pictures and videos since she's been home. Praise the Lord, because for me to post videos are crazy. I'm still working on it, but in the meantime, you can check out Elf's blog,
www.sister-elf.blogspot.com. Also, if you haven't, check out Shayla's blog, because she's still here and may give some good insight. www.shaylatoafrica.blogspot.com. And yes, we all love Blogger, apparently. Both girls, and another one from Germany, Eva, have worked with me at my project, but are not SIM. They are with a different mission agency, and live on the other side of Kibera. But they are like my sisters, and I wouldn't want to work without them! Keep checking these sites, too, and between three of us, we'll keep you well-informed.
Badai! Later!

Thanksgiving. And Thanksgiving...and Thanksgiving

Have no fear, my American friends. Here on the little Rose Avenue compound, I had Thanksgiving. Three times. On Wednesday was my first American Thanksgiving (which is not my first Thanksgiving here, thanks to my Canadian housemates) and it was simple, just us girls in the house. Only two out of 5 of us are American, but one imparticular (not me) likes to cook. We didn't have turkey, and like the first Thanksgiving here, the power went out and we had dinner by candlelight. A Kenyan Thanksgiving tradition. But what really made it Thanksgiving was the pumpkin pie. Then Thursday, while you at home were slicing your turkey and baking your pies, I had a Kenyan meal that my friend from work came over to cook for us. My feast was pork with ugali and chipati. Not your typical holiday meal, but maybe I'll try the same meal for Thanksgiving 2008. I know you all are worried about if I got any turkey at all...or mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, and cranberry sauce. Well, on Friday, my whole compound had a complete, official Thanksgiving meal. Considering not even half the attendees were American, we had a fine Thanksgiving meal with the biggest turkey I've seen in my life! I stuffed myself like a good American glutton on all the fixin's, including more pumpkin pie. Oh, but no cranberry sauce.
Happy (belated) Thanksgiving, everyone!!

Mrenda by lantern

I took a trip upcountry a week ago with some people from work. We had a long bus ride from Nairobi to western Kenya, near Lake Victoria. Over bumpy and broken roads, we traveled for way too long. The economy seats on airplanes have more space. From sitting next to the window, my hair was caked with smog and dust, which caused my hair to be stiffer than Aquanet could make it! But oh, once we got there, it was a whole new Kenya. It was quiet. It was dark. It was clean air. It was wonderful! I spent Friday night, Saturday, and Monday morning there. I skipped Sunday because I was sick all day in bed, which makes for fun times when it's raining out and the outhouse is more than a few yards away. Despite that, seeing upcountry was well worth it. No electricity, so we had our dinners by the glow of a lantern, which included mrenda, a most vile vegetable. It has the consistency of what runs out of children's noses, and I for one, could barely keep it down. Think slimy spinach. Even though I have a Luhya name, Mbone, I cannot nor will not ever eat mrenda again. Sorry to my faithful western brethren, but some things I physically cannot do. Sadly, I didn't get a picture of mrenda , but I did get some shots of the compound, the path to the spring to fetch water, and my friend's father's house with his niece in the forefront, in that order (if all goes well).

Kenyan Ten

I'm not sure if it's the altitude, or the Kenyan food, or the Equator's gravitational pull, but there is the Kenyan Ten. Here, anyone who comes gains ten pounds, and I am more than victim. Sure, you can blame it on the chai, which is part milk, part water, part sugar. Sure, blame it on the carbohydrate diet full of chipati and ugali. But I'm not so convinced. After all, I walk ten miles a day. But whatever it is, I've had to retire a few skirts since I've been here, and when I buy more, look for elastic waist or wrap skirts, the icon of missionary fashion (see Shayla's blog, www.shaylatoafrica.blogspot.com, Signs, Phrases, Isms, and Comic Relief).

Chocolate, Soup Packets, and Pens

Christmas is approaching, and everyone is asking, "Can I send you something?" Well, yes, but I'll add a warning. Here, Kenya charges for delivery too. So when you send a package, I pay for it on my side, too. Please don't ask me why. The way they charge is as follows: they see the contents of the package and total up the current cost of the items here unless stated in dollars. From that, they charge me VAT tax, and a whole lot more. So there are a few measures to take. One, don't send something expensive. Two, find a way to not state the whole price of the package, ie sale price, garage sale price, etc. Three, if you send something in a padded envelope, then it prevents them from shopping and it also will get to me faster, probably not even needed to list the price value of the contents. Sending regular postal service is fine and safe. You don't need to use DHL.
That being cleared, some things I can use around here: some good chocolate, cream soup packets, mac and cheese packets, other processed things like that, good candy, kitchen knives (the cheap kind), any movies you don't want to watch (sorry, DVD only), socks, and pens, please. A 20 pack of Bic pens can go real far in the Maasai market. And if mailing isn't your thing, but you still want to give me a Christmas present, then you can also put money into my account and label it clearly "Personal Account."
It's October and I'm talking about Christmas. Enough of this.
Mt 1:23 'Behold, the Virgin shall be with child and shall bear a son and they shall call his name Immanuel,' which translated means "God with us."
Mo 1:23 'Tazama birika atachakua mimba, naye atamzaa mtoto wa kuime nao watamwita Imanueli,' maana yake "Mungu pamoja nasi."

Emmanuel

Emmanuel is one of my client's children she looks after. He is severely malnurished and often left alone for hours at a time while Rispa looks for work. For those who received an email about Emmanuel: Rispa and Emmanuel both came yesterday very late for the meeting, and also came this morning very early. Both times, things about Emmanuel were discussed, like how often she feeds him, why she leaves him alone, and what clinics he has been to. We will talk again about taking him to a cheaper, but still quality, hospital. She will need help with doctor fees, transport, and medicines, and we are willing to help where we can. She also will need help on following through with what she says. I want you to help by praying for her, Emmanuel, and my project on how much to help. It's not as simple as saying, "we will pay it." Dependency is something we don't want to encourage. Still, Emmanuel, as I was reminded, means "God with us." May I never forget that! Even though it may seem discouraging looking at that baby boy, God is with him.

Dave

You know that movie, "Dave?" It's the one where a guy, Dave, looks like the president and has to be the president for a while since the real president is in a coma and the bad guy wants to take office? Okay, so basically, there's this one part where Dave is in a room with the bad guy and some other guy, and the bad guy shakes Dave's hand. Then they leave the room, and just Dave remains. I was shocked!! Here in Kenya, if each person doesn't shake the other's hand, it's a huge insult and means that they are enemies. So me, having no enemies here, I shake everyone's hand, as is custom. If I'm walking with two people down the road, and we greet two people we know, each person must shake hands. Must. Count, that's six handshakes. And Dave didn't shake the other guy's hand. The craziest thing is that it actually bothered me. Which reminds me of two things: after (almost) four months, I'm very indocrinated into this culture, and when I return to my own culture, I'll have culture shock.
Dave didn't shake everyone's hand when coming out of the office, either. Tsk.

New Building Photos

Photos!!!

This is from Elephant Orphanage and Giraffe Sanctuary, as promised.

Giraffes, Thanksgiving, and Presidents

My, I've been meaning to post, and I will just have to do without pictures for the sake of actually giving an update.
Well, I've been having many big days here. Saturday, I was a tourist to the tee. I went to the giraffe sanctuary, elephant orphanage, and the Bomas of Kenya. I have a picture of me kissing a giraffe (it was amazing, Jason) and there's a hotel where the giraffes can peek their heads inside the doors and windows for a low price of $500 USD a night. We also hit the elephant orphanage, where we saw elephants three y.o. and below and a rhino that was roaming about. The Bomas of Kenya is a tourist area where you can check out the different tribal living of the tribes in Kenya, and had AMAZING tribal dancing, where I decided that Kikuyu is a beautiful language.
Monday, we had a big Thanksgiving dinner--for Canada. No turkey, but it was still a great holiday meal.
Today, all of Kenya has off for Moi Day. Moi was the second president of Kenya and declared a day for himself. The first president, Kenyatta, also announced his own day, which is the 20th this month. Sadly, it's on a Saturday.
I promise pictures, really, honestly. Just not now.

Milestones

On Monday, I have officially been out of the States for 3 months. On Tuesday, I officially have been in country for 3 months. And on Wednesday, Cameron Guy Saunders, 7 1/2 lbs, 20 in., was born.
I am adjusting to my new world here. I have a full house, with 5 girls under one roof. My project, as you can read, has moved, and yet I still know which direction to go home in in the midst of the maze of Kibera. Curfews, new foods, different currency, different humor.
My nephew, Cameron, is adjusting to a new world, too. They say that there's nothing exciting about the first few months of a baby's life, and I guess that's true. But just crying, sleeping, and pooping sounds like Heaven when you can't be there for it. He will have to adjust to his new life in New Jersey without his Aunt Sa. It's happened before. But I hear that it can cause serious problems down the line, unless there is an intervention, say, around 9 months old??
Congratulations, Lesley and Billy!! (and Angel and Erynn, big sis'!)

The Great Migration

Bittersweet...
Today, our project opened its doors to the new building. We are officially operating from Mashimoni area of Kibera (instead of Railway PAG). This is 20 months in the making, a real answer to prayers! It's made of cement, not corrugated iron, and has four rooms open now, with a clinic to open soon, instead of one little "office," one little tailoring room, and a church that functioned as an all-purpose room. We have room to work, with a separate room for literacy, tailoring room, reading room, and...wait for it, wait for it...a bathroom! Like, inside the building.
The sad part is that all those kids on my picture live around my old building, and so I won't get to see them, or the mamas, or the kids walking in, or...or...oh, it's so sad.
But I do have a toilet now.
***Pictures to come***

Hail and rapids

Yesterday was bright, sunshining, almost hot day. After trekking through Kibera "shortcuts," we finally arrived at the school we were visiting for their Bible club. About 4:30, it started to rain. Now, let me inform you that Kenya rain is not like Jersey rain. Kenya rain has a few drops, then all-out downpour, without a moment's notice. So, under the tin roof of the school, I taught them. Screaming at the top of my lungs to be heard over the pounding rain. We watched through the windows as the dirt became wet, then muddy, then Kibera muddy (which only gumboots can save you from), then streams of water. Then, it really started raining. Hailing, actually, which almost tore off a small section of roof in the little classroom. So the staff and the students just stared out the windows, watching this incredible storm move through. The cell network went down for a while. It was crazy. In twenty minutes, we went from arid dry to flood. At 5:30, when it was still raining but no hail, my escort and I started our journey home. We had an umbrella, as if it would help any. We hiked uphill, bypassing the really flooded areas only to encounter a massive wall of water flowing downstream--while we were going up. Still trying to preserve my shoes, I hopped from one little stone to another, carefully avoided the major areas. Until...until water flowing from end to end so fast it, you could go whitewater rafting down it blocked our path. So I did what any mzungu caught in the rain of Kibera would do. I laughed so hard going through it I almost fell down!! Arthur and I grabbed hands and just ran. It was one of the craziest but most memorable experiences I've had here. So far. This isn't the rainy season.
In the Bible, rain is associated with God's blessings. His blessings certainly fell on us yesterday!

The smell of kerosene

I am an alien...in that good kind of way! Earlier this week, I took a trip to Immigration, where I sat, then moved and sat somewhere else, and sat some more. Then I got fingerprinted, so I'm signed, sealed, delivered. I'm now an official alien resident of Kenya. I never thought I'd be happy to get fingerprinted... Of course, here you get the ink off with "spirits," which is no more than kerosene. No one light a match!!

Two months and what am I doing?

New mission: update blog...ever.
So my sister informed me that though my family knows I'm over here, they don't know what I'm doing. So here's a daily itinerary that is supposed to be my schedule. That is to say, recently it has been like so, but more often than not there has been exceptions.
7:15 - Stumble out of bed
7:30 - Get coffee or tea, breakfast, retreat to my room for devotions
8:30 - Leave for Kibera
9:00 - Arrive at the office, have devotions on Tuesdays and Fridays, pick three people to visit
10:00 - 12:30 - Visitations
1:00 - Have lunch (Mondays and Tuesdays have a literacy student for an hour first)
3:00ish - Head back home
4:00ish - Get home (**notice the time it takes to get home is twice as long as going--more people to greet)
4:30 - Check mail (hint, hint), have some tea
5:30 - Help make dinner
8:00 - Watch movie, chat with the passing short-termers, or read The Idiot
10:30 - Lights out
So this doesn't describe Saturday or Sunday, which aren't so filled and varies even more than the above time schedule. Now, consider yourselves informed.
Mark 1:40 "A man with leprosy came to [Jesus] and begged him on his knees, 'If you are willing, you can make me clean.' "
Marko 1:40 "Akaja mtu mwenye ukoma, akapiga magoti mbele ya Yesu akamsihi, 'Ukitaka, unaweza kunitakasa.' "

Whereby

Funny things happen in Kenya. You get stopped by goats in the hills of Kinangop. You see rabbits hopping through churches of the slum. Christians pray by standing up and moving around, talking to the point of shouting. In one day, you can hear over 3 different languages, besides the one you can understand. You can be 8,000 ft above sea level after climbing just 2,000 ft to get there. You can be greeted, if white, by a thousand little voices chanting, "How are you?" You can be kept up at night by club music from around the world. You have to avoid stepping in flaming piles of trash. And you get introduced to "whereby" being used with the same thought the Kenyan gives to the word "the." Kenya is not at all what you would think, yet it's exactly what you want it to be.

At last

Habari! Finally, Blogger is working with me today! I have not been able to get it working. This is just to say that more posts will follow, and sorry for the delay. Even now, Blogger isn't working properly. Please, look for my email updates! If you don't receive one, email me (melissa.berg@yahoo.com). Until Blogger works again!!

Earlier post I tried to post...

Hey, everyone, I've made it! I'm in Kenya! I arrived last night (afternoon for you) and went to sleep! Last night, flying in was amazing. We were flying over the Lybian Desert, and it just went on for miles. Then it hit me--I've arrived in Africa. So here I am, luggage and all! After 24 hours in transit with 15 hours in the air, it's good to be on solid ground. It's good to be home.
Today, Tuesday, I have orientation, as I do for the rest of the week. Friday, I get a sneak peek at Kibera when I go to Chonesus, the program I'm working with. I found out today that most of the volunteers are Kenyans, so I'll really brush up on my Swahili!

A real day

Today is a real day. Today is one of those days where I know that in just a few days, I'll be boarding an airplane and it seems real. Two days ago was a denial day. Two days ago, my mind was refusing to wrap itself around the idea of my departure. It didn't feel like I was leaving soon. And a Real Day or Denial Day, either way, I have no concept of leaving for a year. Even if I wanted to think about it, I couldn't. I honestly don't know what being gone for a year feels like. Guess I'll find out soon. Keep praying for me. I'm saying my goodbyes (Elevate people, friends,) and am making some special time for others (Derbs, EE and Angel, my fam,) so that I'll leave on good terms and won't miss anyone. I mean, won't miss saying bye to everyone. I'll actually miss you all.
I don't know if I like real days. Good thing I don't have too many left!

Living for what?

Do you know about Myspace? Some of my friends tell me that it's a good place to meet up with old friends. Tonight, I spent some time looking through some of my old friends" Myspaces, and oh, MY, indeed. A few of them have seemed to find their way, but mostly, they seem to be the same frustrated teenagers from 5 years ago! I'm not really saying this to point fingers. Actually, some of the stories of what people were up to broke my heart. Repeatedly, I see "I live for me" or some variation of that, or "my life was made complete when I found ____." Is their idea of life out of sync? Yes! They are being lied to, they have the wool drawn over their eyes! Praise God that I no longer "live for myself" or for "Mr. X." I live for the One who lived and died for me--Jesus Christ.
I guess I kept thinking the whole time of what if I had a Myspace (no, Suze.) What would people say about how different my life is now? How drastically different. I could get prideful and say, look at me, Clayton kids, look what I'm doing. But what did I really do?
In church this week, we talked about the grace of God, that all the work that was done to earn me the Truth that my old friends don't have, that work was done at the cross, in one day, and not me working, no gift or talent of my own gained this knowledge, but only the work done on that beautiful Calvary Hill. What makes me so different that I know and they don't? The grace and pleasure of God. I was blind just like them. And now, thank you, Jesus, I see.
We're all missionaries to this dark world. Let your light shine.

Shifting Focus

I have 20 days until I ship out of here. I have realized the pressures of seeing everyone to say goodbye, packing, and packing, and packing. Most of all, I've seen the pressure of putting my ministry out of focus, and focusing on how sad it will be to leave everyone. But there is a bigger picture here. I'm not leaving against my will to do some terrible job. No, I am leaving to have the privelage of serving my King. In a few weeks, I will be surrounded by "a great cloud of witnesses" all my own. That is, people who are missionaries too, who would leave their friends and family to minister to people in a far away land. And, most of all, I won't be "the missionary who is leaving" but rather a missionary who has just arrived.
Praise God for calling me. Praise Him for having all of time in His hands, and using it as He sees fit. And as long as I'm where He wants me to be, I won't feel the pain of the "sacrifice" I had to make to be there.

Almost There

As of today, I have 100% of my support pledged, my airfare itinerary drawn up, and 47 days to go until I leave. (That means I leave June 24th.)
It's a satisfied feeling, watching God accomplish something big (like raising $2,000 in one month). Now, there's a calm before the storm. I have time to think about what this means. I have time to get scared of leaving everyone and going to where I know no one. I have time to think about how the Kenyans who live in Kibera have lived lives that I don't know about. I have time to already begin to miss being there for Rob's big races. I have time to get excited about fulfilling one of my life's biggest goals. I have time to worry about what to pack, what to leave behind. I have time to stare at my engagement ring for a little while longer until I leave it in the States. I have time to learn more Swahili. I have time to try some East African food before I have no choice but to eat East African food. I have time to pray.
This is the time that I want to be on my knees, talking to the only One who is going with me. God is simply the One that I must focus on now most of all. As much as I love my nieces, or my friends, or my fiance, I must love God more. In this time left, I have time to talk myself out of this, to remember that I am pushing aside work, money, home, marriage, all for this place that I've never gone to, to minister to people I never met. I could say, no, nevermind, it doesn't make sense after all. But I must love God more than anything else, and want to forgo it all for His sake.
My God has plans for me. Plans to prosper me, and not to harm me, plans to give me hope and a future.
I have 47 days' worth of time...

No Snow in Kenya

Seeing as this is my first blog EVER, there's a lot of pressure to get this one right. I guess I'm writing this one because I want to show people my blog but there's no posts, and I really wasn't expecting to post until at least May. I'm early.
It's April, and there's snow on the ground. It's constantly cold, with only a few teasers where it got over 75. In Nairobi, I'll be expecting a temperature between 65-85 year round. I have no sorrows about missing a winter here. I have no regrets about missing a few snowfalls. Yeah, snow angels are fun, but only in theory. Really, they are cold, and I think I'm allergic to cold. Maybe that's really why I made my blog early, and I'm posting early. I'm longing for the weather of Kenya.
What God makes is good, so I can only assume that cold weather is good. But does that have to mean that it's good for everyone? There is a season for everything, indeed, but I'm a one-season girl.
So...how'd I do?