Part 7: Friday-- I woke up with a knot in my stomach, almost wishing this part of the journey were finished and that we could go onto the orphanage. Yesterday ended on a terrific "high"-- especially after our time at Bunyore Girls School. Now we had another chance to practice "joyful flexibility" as we finalized plans for the concert, and figure out how to incorporate the other elements suggested to us just yesterday-- adding music by the students, a time of prayer, and getting a speaker.
After dinner last night, Alan had asked some of the faculty members to share their stories. As we listened, it occurred to me that here was the answer-- to see if anyone would be willing to share their life story of "amazing grace" with our audience at the concert. I wondered if things had changed since the end of colonialism-- or if foreigners were still put up on a pedastal? Perhaps if we were more willing to be transparent... I shared my ideas, and hoped someone would step forward.
After breakfast, we worked on the "program." No one had approached us, so we decided to ask Marcus, who shared his story the first Sunday at the church in Nairobi, if he'd be willing to do it again. According to the seminar schedule, we weren't supposed to have any more meetings-- but we were glad when Robert suggested we have one more get-together. We could teach the chorus of "Around the World" to the students, as well as practice another song or two the students could sing. Unfortunately, we were competing with a soccer game as well as a tea with Adrienne, so not everyone could come. And unfortunately, the power went out and did not come back on for several hours. How great that all of our equipment could also operate on batteries! And what a sweet time it turned out to be. It was beautiful, singing with the students in the chapel with its thick walls and high ceilings. When I played my tin whistle on "Amazing Grace" the natural reverberation gave it a real Celtic sound. Evelyn, a first year student with a beautiful voice, asked if she could also share a song at the concert. It looked as if things were coming together.
After a quick dinner, I took a quick shower and changed clothes-- a waste of time, as soon I was again drenched with sweat. With the cathedral acoustics, we decided against amplifying our voices and just using small amps for our instruments. Too soon, it was time to start. Everything went fine until we got to the place where the students sang, and realized that someone had not brought in the other guitar. Sharon handed hers to Jonathan to play. We also had never practiced having everyone come on stage, and I think that made everyone nervous. It didn't sound as relaxed and beautiful as it did in rehearsal, but it was wonderful to have the students involved. And how appropriate-- their song, "Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone)" was right before Marcus spoke. He told his story simply, a story of redemption, of his changed life. We shared our own stories of God's grace around more of our songs. Evelyn sang like an angel-- and we were so proud of her, and of all the students. All too soon, it was time to sing "Around the World, Across the Street" and finish with "Amazin' Grace Blues."
We broke into small groups for prayer. There were just four people in ours-- Sharon, Robert (chaplain), Jonathan (choir master) and myself. We began to share prayer requests, and I was struck by the depth of sharing and a vulnerability I'd not seen before from our African friends. Perhaps this was the first time we really sat down to share without the drumbeat of all the things to do, teach and get done pounding in the background. When we prayed, and especially when Robert prayed for my husband Alan's knee and Sharon's daughter Sandy's just-diagnosed heart condition, we could certainly feel God's presence with us.
After the concert, we felt so relieved-- some of the students spontaneously broke out in a wild happy dance, and we joined in the fun. Later, Solomon, one of our students, told us how much he enjoyed it-- how he wished we could come back and teach more. "Next time, please teach us how to play the flute!" (the tin whistle). Then Marcus shared how people had come up to him and told how much it meant to hear his story-- that they had never heard a foreigner share so transparently about mistakes made. It turned out to be a night of amazing grace, after all. Next Post
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