The Empty Salsa Jar

Being a single adult affords more than its fair share of awkward moments. Weddings are a fan favorite – especially during those slow dances that are all about showing the one you love how much you care. Family Christmas letters are another – there’s only so many times that people want to read the latest news on your career. Even something as seemingly benign as going to church can be a cause for chagrin. There is, after all, no quicker way to clear a row of seats at church than to have a grown person sit at one end. Immediately there will be a berth of 10 feet granted by the remaining of the congregants.

Although these public displays of aloneness can be discomfiting, there are some private moments that also have their share of vexation. Like an empty salsa jar. It’s not that you’re out of salsa that causes the concern (although that does have its fountain of pain) its realizing that since the time you bought the salsa and the time you can see through to the bottom no one else has eaten it but you. I guess some (i.e. guys) may see this as a sense of accomplishment but it has its hints of sadness too. After all, we were made for community and if there’s not even someone to share your salsa with, you kind of realize how very on your own you are. Even those of us blessed enough to have a caring family or steady friends know that while we might be able to convince someone to come over and eat some dip with us, no one is legally or spiritually obligated to share in our food, to be a part of our household. You realize that “your immediate family” is now just you.

Somehow though, along with minor flashes of despair, there is a sense of comfort in this too. As much as I might like someone to share my life with, I know that I’ve learned things I never would have if I could conveniently lean on another. As it is its just me and God, and it doesn’t take long for me to realize that I’m not going to cut it. There’s freedom without obligation and this has allowed me to experience life in a way that family responsibilities don’t allow (Spontaniety is a lot easier when the only schedule to consider is your own.) Patience is an obvious (although imperfect) bi-product of the unfulfilled anticipation. Security too, knowing that although life may not turned out as I planned, God’s plans will prevail.

Someday I hope to have someone else to blame the empty salsa jar on (along with the dirty dishes, messy closet and a whole host of other things.) Until then, I’m grateful for the lessons that the journey affords and the fact that no one steals the chips!

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"Our Wedding"

I mentioned in an earlier post that recently there was a wedding in the community. The wedding was for one of David’s nephews who has become his adopted son. Over a thousand people were in attendance and when I arrived the community was still recovering.
An interesting thing about Kenyan weddings is that it is not the couple’s wedding. The event, the celebration, is seen as a community occasion. The couple actually makes very few decisions about the day. In fact, they don’t even really decide who to invite. Word-of-mouth combined with a few cards that are mailed, spread the news. There are no RSVP’s and no indication of who may be coming – not just for the day; but the groom’s family may also be expected to hosts unannounced visitors both before and after the event.
The reason it is viewed as a community celebration is because every other thing in the person’s life has been viewed as a community event. If someone moves into a new house, the community brings everything that the person needs – food, dishes, and other household goods. When the person gets married, the community provides what they need. As David shared – it serves as a reminder that someone else picked the flowers which are adorning you. Someone else sewed the material to create the dress. Others were responsible for the food preparation and service. Each member of the community provides their contribution; and the community honors that. Within twenty-four hours of the wedding, all the dishes that the community had gathered from various homes were washed and returned to their rightful owner. The idea of community celebrations may seem foreign, but at least here in Kipkarren, it’s definitely efficient.
As I learned about the wedding traditions of this village, I was reminded of the passage in Acts 2. Truly everyone here shares and they have no possessions that are their own. Everything that a person has is available for the benefit of the community.

PS – I hope to post pictures soon.

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