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The Next Step

I have been here 254 days.

I only have 68 days left.

That’s a little more than two months left here in this beautiful place. Two months.

That really isn’t that much time in the grand scheme of things.

Where did my time go? I feel like it was just yesterday that I was giving my family one last hug before heading out. I can still feel the pain of saying goodbye like it was yesterday. But it wasn’t. It was more than eight months ago.

So many people have asked me, “Kelsey, what’s your plan after this year?” I always feel a little uncomfortable and get a little anxious when I hear that question. Honestly, I have no idea. I was having quiet time the other day and asked the Lord what I am supposed to be doing after this year in Africa. Didn’t really get the answer I was hoping for. It was more of an, “abide in Me and I’ll direct your path” than a “you need to do this and this and this.” But that’s all part of the adventure of following Jesus, right? As difficult as it can be to not know what the next step is, it is pretty cool to know God has this amazing plan for my life and I have no idea what it is.

And that’s where trust comes in. Each year, my mom, sisters and I choose a word to really focus on and try to live by. My word this year was trust. Trust God that moving to Africa was the right decision. Trust God that He will be with me every step of the way. Trust God that He will provide. Trust God that He has an amazing plan for me after this year. It is such an easy concept, but sometimes to difficult to put into practice.

On one hand, there is nothing more I want to do than go home. I want to hug Jude and Aiden and never let them go. I want to be there as we welcome Esther Moriah into this world. I want to see my siblings again and go out for fun pizza nights. I want to sit on the screen porch with my parents and eat fancy cheese while talking about our day. I want to wake up to my dogs jumping on my bed and licking me until I acknowledge them. I want to go through a drive-thru because I can. I want to stay up late with my friends and go to Waffle House and feel miserable the rest of the night. I want all of that. I want home.

But on the other hand….

How can I ever leave this place? How can I ever leave these children? I knew that when I first came here it would be hard to leave. But I never expected it to hurt this bad. The other day we were at Kids Club and one sweet little boy just snuggled up on my lap and listened to the lesson. As I held him in my arms, I started to cry. I don’t want to leave him. I don’t want to leave any of them. Each one of these children have completely stolen my heart. I’m wrestling with the thought of building such great relationships with the children and then just leaving all of them. People leaving is all they know. After I’ve been chipping away at the concrete walls they put up, they have let me in and now I’m just leaving. I don’t want to be another person who just leaves.

But it comes back to trust. I have to trust that what I planted here the Lord will water and grow into something beautiful. I have to trust that He is doing things in these children’s hearts that I could never do. I have to trust that Jesus will protect their hearts through all the pain and hurt they will experience.

I keep wondering what life will look like when I get back home. Things will never be the same, I know that. One of my missionary friends explained it to me beautifully. He described America as being a circle. And South Africa is a square. I’ve been a circle my whole life, but moving to South Africa changed me. I’m not quite a circle anymore, but I’m not South African so I’m also not a square. Maybe I’m a triangle now. Whatever it is, I’m not the same. And whether I’m in the circle or the square, it will never quite feel right.

I don’t know what life is going to be like from here on out. I don’t know what God has in store for me in this next season. But I do know that I can cling tightly to the One who created it all. To the One who has a plan. To the One who holds me in the palm of His hand when I am tired, weary and filled with uncertainty.

I know that in my remaining 68 days here I am going to dive in even more than before. I know it will make it so much harder to leave and hurt even more, but these children are worth it. Every tear, every frustrating moment, every difficult day has been worth it. Their smiles make everything better.

In Christ,


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