Honour Thy Father

Posted on June 16, 2014 by thewildcreanberries

Yesterday it was Father’s Day in lots of countries, including Kenya. Our youngest daughter lives in New Zealand and it doesn’t happen there until September.

So in honour of all dads (and single mums) I’m writing this blog, but especially in honour of Pete’s dad – Alvin Crean.

Dad is in hospital and we are all unsure of how much longer he’ll be with us. At 83 his heart is just holding on. It’s been a tough week for all of the family, we all knew it was going to happen but it doesn’t make it any easier.

It’s hit Pete really hard being so far away from everyone. The last time he saw his dad it was exactly 2 years ago. It was to say goodbye before we moved to Kenya. Pete knew it would be the last time he saw his dad, so it was extra special. Yesterday we did get to make him a video and then speak to him which was really good.

There’s some quite famous Creans across the world. One of them was Thomas Crean, an explorer that went to Antarctica with Ernest Shackleton. In fact this year there was a huge festival in his name held in Wellington, New Zealand. It looks like they originated from Ireland and made their way across the world.

The family crest

There’s even a ‘Creans Road’ named after Pete’s grandad in Waihi.

In 1960 Pete’s dad married his mum (Alma). She already had 4 children from her previous husband who had passed away. That’s a huge thing to take on 4 kids that aren’t your own. Then, Pete and his sister were taken in when their birth parents abandoned them. Pete and Dawn were just a toddler and a baby.

It takes a lot of courage to take on 6 children with none of them being biologically yours. It wasn’t always a peaceful household and Pete has lots of colourful stories about his upbringing.

Pete liked living where they did because their house was on the fenceline of the school. In fact, it was only a few years ago that his parents moved out of there to a more rural setting.

The Crean house in Tokoroa

Our girls loved visiting their grandparents little lifestyle block. There were pigs, dogs, chickens and lots of parrots. Pete’s dad loves birds. Even now at 83 he keeps birds in the back yard. One of our regrets is that he didn’t get to come to Africa and see the amazing wildlife here. He would’ve really liked that.

One thing I really respect about Pete is that he honours his dad. He doesn’t agree with everything he did or said but the fact that he took in so many and provided for them and calls them ‘all of his kids’ says a lot. On our wedding day, 26 years ago, Pete made sure during the speeches that his parents were given the due respect and thanks. Although it’s a blended family I’ve never heard anyone say ‘step brother’, ‘step sister’ or his dad say ‘they’re not MY kids’.

December 1987

Some handy things Pete’s dad has taught him (purposely or not):

Work hard/play hard
Provide for your family even if you have to get 2 or 3 jobs
Always be hospitable (be ready with that cup of tea)
Every kid is special, they are not an accident
Treat animals well
It’s okay to argue with your spouse but work it out cause you still have to live with them

Pete and his sisters at the bar

Whether you’ve had a good relationship with your dad or a real crappy one, take whatever lessons you can and use them in your own family. We choose the environment we have within our family, we don’t have to repeat how we were brought up if we want it to be different.

Pete with Mum and Dad

The word ‘Crean’ means ‘heart’. I would say that my husband has learned through his life experiences to have a heart for people. He is compassionate and kind, especially to those who are downtrodden and rejected by society. He chooses to honour his parents through his lifestyle.Dad’s heart might not have much longer to keep beating but he can be assured that the hearts, thoughts and prayers of his family will be with him now and always.

The Windsor

Posted on June 10, 2014 by thewildcreanberries

Okay, I admit I’m not into golfing at all. The last time I got close to a green was at a putt putt course in Sydney for Lizzies birthday. I remember when I was a kid getting paid 50 cents to be a caddy for my father and uncle as they played a round on the local golf course.

For the last couple of months we’ve had a boarder living with us. Anthony is from Germany but has a real American accent, he’s here in Nairobi researching for his Masters Program. Anthony told us about this place called The Windsor Golf Hotel & Country Club. We work most weekends but found one Saturday to go up there and have a look.

When you get there you can hardly believe that there is such a place like this in Nairobi. It’s clean, green and elegant looking.

The buildings are all done in Victorian style even though the place was only established a few years ago. There’s stacks of activities to do there (we had a coffee) including golfing, bird watching, cycling, swimming and even petanque. I’ve been to a few clubs around here but this one definitely seems to be of the ‘old establishment’. In some clubs you are not allowed to use your mobile phone, other places it’s cashless and you use a swipe card, other places children aren’t allowed.

We didn’t get to go inside one of the rooms but they looked pretty good. There seem to be 4 posted beds, all done up in Victorian style. Wooden floors are the norm here so you’d want to have a pair of slipper available at this time of year when things are a bit cooler.

It’s a nice place for a wedding with some special gardens which would look great for a photoshoot. Apparently the most venue to hold a wedding is outside at the 10^th tee which has the backdrop of the golf course and buildings. This alone costs you $2,000.

I do have to say that the service for the coffee was super slow. It wasn’t just for the coffee but getting the bill. Generally here in Nairobi you eat and then they bring you the bill in a wallet/folder. The waiter then comes up and gets it with either your credit card or cash. Tipping is not compulsory, only if you’re happy with the service and it’s up to you what you give. At least we had a great view of the golf course while waiting for what seemed forever.

Even if you’re not into golfing the Windsor Country Club is worth the visit. They’ve got plenty of activities happening and it’s nice to get away from the madness of Nairobi without travelling too far.

Check out their website for more info – http://www.windsorgolfresort.com/

Daughter of a Missionary

Posted on June 4, 2014 by thewildcreanberries

To be honest, when mum asked me to write this blog post it was just after I had a huge blowout at her about how much I dislike (to say the least) the fact that they live on the other side of the world and had given up their lives to help those in need. People often look at missionaries and volunteer workers and say how wonderful it is that they have given up their lives to help those in need and that it’s such a heroic act. It seems that people don’t often think of the practical things like the sacrifice the rest of their family makes for this to happen. When mum and dad told me that they had decided to move to Kenya I thought that it was a “nice idea” for them to do something different. I had lived overseas before and knew that I would survive without them. But not long after they left for Kenya I felt like my right arm was chopped off. I think this was because I knew they weren’t coming back easily. After a few months of them being over in Kenya I was struggling a lot and decided to move back to New Zealand where all my extended family are.

Here are 5 things I have learned over the past year and a half:

You’re allowed to miss them

I miss the daddy daughter coffee dates, the ability to live at home (DON’T UNDERESTIMATE THE AWESOMENESS OF BEING ABLE TO LIVE AT HOME! Seriously though, I miss it quite a lot and wish I hadn’t taken it for granted), the painful but great back and neck massages mum gives, the long walks on the beach talking about life with my parents, family outings, special moments with my sister (which were few and far between since we were always arguing), and the list goes on. At first I felt guilty that I missed them because they were doing “such an amazing thing” but then came to realise that it’s my right as their daughter to say I miss them.

Most people don’t understand

No one tells you how empty life can be without family. No one tells you how hard it is to organise skype dates between different time zones. No one tells you how scary it is when you hear of bombings and disasters that are just around the corner from where you know your parents are. The matter of the fact is no one tells you because no one really knows until you’re in the same situation. I don’t actually know anyone else who is a missionary’s kid.

Your parents are irreplaceable

The other week I was thinking about the future. What is going to happen when I get married one day? Is my dad going to be able to afford to come to my wedding and walk me down the isle? (He has no option; he’s going to be there whether he likes it or not thank you very much!) When I have my first child is my mum going to be able to be there to hold my hand through the ordeal? How often will they be able to see their grandkids? I don’t want my kids to miss out on having their crazy Crean grandparents around. There is no one who can ever replace my parents in those moments.

Make “other family”

Throughout my life when travelling I have learnt to make other people my “other family” when mine aren’t around. Since living in New Zealand I have somehow managed to find Luke, my prince charming. (Awww!) His family, the Rutlands, have become my family, not because its kind of what happens when you get in a relationship, but because I chose for them to be. His dad, Andrew, takes me for driving lessons, makes me laugh, and gives me great advice. His mum, Sharon, (it’s a weird coincidence that our mums have the same name…) takes me for coffee, gives me hugs and talks with me about life. His sisters, Amy and Hannah, (another weird name coincidence which gets very, VERY confusing) have become my other sisters whom I can laugh with, argue with and cause mischief with. And his gran is one of the coolest gran’s around! I couldn’t do life here without them. I can’t say thank you enough to them for being so supportive and loving me like their own.

Accept the fact that there is no such thing as normal anymore

As a missionaries kid you have to learn to modify your thinking of the basic things. What do you do at Christmas time, Fathers Day, Mothers Day, your birthday? Who do you spend those days with? Everyone else has his or her families.

I’ll tell you a secret: every other day I feel like calling my parents and telling them that I hate the fact that they chose to live in Kenya and that they should come back and live close to me. But I know deep down that this is what my parents are called to do. I know they wouldn’t be happy just living a “normal” life in Australia or New Zealand. And even though most of the time it sucks not having a normal family, I am really proud and glad that they are doing what they love.

Daughter of a Missionary

Posted on June 4, 2014 by thewildcreanberries

This was taken one week before my parents and sister left for Africa in 2012.

Here are 5 things I have learned over the past year and a half:

You’re allowed to miss them

Most people don’t understand

Dad’s 3 girls. Not sure how he puts up with us!

Your parents are irreplaceable

Make “other family”

Mum and I Skype each week and we message each other all the time.

Accept the fact that there is no such thing as normal anymore

The 4 of us in the US. I left them to come back to Aussie. They went to Kenya.

This is us on top of Mauna Kea in Hawaii before I went to school there.

Lizo Crean

Posted on May 21, 2014 by thewildcreanberries

We have the best two kids in the world – every parent should think their kids are the best by the way. But truly, they are very cool.

Liz at 8 days old with her dad.

I’ve decided to write about Liz because so many people ask about her and her ‘story’. Most say they notice something a little different about her but can’t put their finger on it. So here goes.

It took her a long time to get used to Santa.

Liz was born at 2.10am on December 31^st, 1989. It was a normal pregnancy, a long birth, but you know the first labour, as soon as you get a bit of pain you think it’s all started. She was a bit of a floppy baby at first but fed REALLY well.

Things progressed normally for a few years but there were some differences. Things like she packed the biggest tantrums if she couldn’t go with her dad. She didn’t like going to sleep. Her speech was slow in developing. She didn’t interact with kids the same age. Liz crawled at 12 months and walked at 13.

Taken at around 19 months of age when we first lived in Australia.

Liz has always had the cutest smile and her personality has taken her a long way. She’s always been an outdoor girl. Forget playing with dolls and having pretend tea parties. Get her to ride with her dad on the farm bike and that was another thing.

When Liz was 3 we went to India for 3 weeks. Both the girls got the chickenpox and I remember my sister Angela nearly throwing them at me when we returned (she was a champ). After this, our pastor sat with us and suggested that we take Liz to the doctors as she wasn’t advancing as fast as her peers. I’d suspected for a while that something wasn’t right but for Pete there was no way that HIS daughter had anything wrong with her.

Eventually we took her to our GP who got her into some tests and then a speech therapist. Jeanette was the best thing since sliced bread. Until we left Tokoroa Liz would meet up with her each week. I still have all of Lizzies speech language books. I still remember all the specialists visits, the blood tests, the million and one questions about pregnancy, birth and milestones. Liz knew every test by heart because she had them year after year.

Sleeptime was never Lizzies favourite time of night – still isn’t.

It wasn’t until years later that we were told that Liz had a syndrome called ‘Global Delayed Development’ and that she was mildly intellectually disabled. Basically she was 6 – 8 years behind what she should’ve been. We were devastated and went back to Jeanette with THE piece of paper. Her reply – “I knew it but didn’t want you putting her or yourselves in a box. Liz will be able to do what Liz can do”. Sure, she had therapy to try and do buttons up, Riding for the Disabled, visits to a child psychologist for her anxiety issues. There were some really tough times – on all of us.

There were times of going one step forward and two steps back. There was the time in her teenage years when you could see her getting depressed and it looked like a little bit of her (inside) was dying each day. There was her younger sister who had everything she didn’t, and Liz became aware of it. There were the struggles of her trying to do mainstream subjects and finding it really difficult. There were the heartaches of her going to youth group and coming home upset because not one person who talked to her.

And then there were the victories. When she was 17 Liz learned to tie up her shoelaces. She finished high school (neither Pete nor I had). She got to be the youngest deacon ever in church. Liz got into photography and helped out with that. There are some phenomenal older people who’ve become Lizzies honorary grandparents and she loves them to bits. The times she has got employed were great and now she volunteers 5 days a week at a preschool in Nairobi.

Liz with her mate Pastor Don McDonell.

Who would’ve thought that this kid who hated to be touched, was scared of the ocean and couldn’t put 2 words together when she was 3 ½ could’ve turned out to such an incredible young adult. When Liz was little all I wanted her to do was to hold my hand, but her skin got negative impulses from touch and it had to be trained. When she was about 18 she started holding my hand in public, and it was a bit embarrassing until I thought to myself ‘I’ve waited all these years for it and I’m going to enjoy it’. I’m not sure how she overcame her fright of the ocean but now you can’t get her out of it.

I remember the first time Liz said ‘I love you’. I was hanging out the laundry in Tokoroa and Liz was playing outside. That’s a trillion dollar memory.

So what does the future hold for Liz? Who the heck knows – well actually God does and I’m pretty comfortable with that. She’s been receiving the disability pension for the last couple of years while we were in Australia. Because we moved from New Zealand to Aussie she had to wait 10 years for it. Then we moved to Kenya. For the past 18 months she has had to travel back to Aussie every 13 weeks to keep that pension. Most of it goes on travel and she’s had a blast doing it.

The new regulation is that she has to travel back every 6 weeks. It’s insane, but there are not exceptions to the rule, even if you are helping vulnerable kids in a developing country. We are now in the final stages of the next step. It involves her getting assessed by a GP to see if she is at a stage of never being employed (sweeping a broom could be a job). Next, she is interviewed by a Centrelink rep. Then, we wait 6 months for their decision. Either her pension will be stopped or they will allow her to keep getting it without her returning every 6 weeks.

Liz and her Uncle Dave. Taken in 2014.

We’re hoping for the latter but preparing for the former. Having Liz go back every 6 weeks is a real killer. Trying to find flights that she can pay for is tough. Finding places for Liz to stay is getting tougher. We’ve had some really generous people who’ve had Liz over but you can’t keep using them. Then, what is she to do each day? It’s like living in 2 worlds. While she is away it’s not the real world – people never get ticked off with you, you don’t have any responsibilities, people spoil you. Then it takes a good month to settle into life back here and then you do it all over again.

We are so grateful that Liz is an easy going person. She still has lots of challenges (low reading level, not good at handling money and not always the greatest at reading social cues) but they may be lifelong things. Liz needs a good amount of support for daily living, but she is doing okay for now.

And now is all that matters.

Neways, Maccas and Corruption

Posted on March 25, 2014 by thewildcreanberries

I’ve spent the last 6 weeks travelling through New Zealand and Australia talking with both younger and older people about Africa and the work we do there. It’s been quite a transition in getting used to the convenience of life here and trying not to speak in Swahili and then the biggest shock of how expensive food is.

There’s a few things that we don’t get in Kenya where we are based.

Neways. These are a great range of products that have ingredients that don’t harm us. You’d be surprised what chemicals are in our hair, skin and household products. When we lived in Australia we converted as much as possible to Neways products and really saw the difference. 18 months later we still have some shaving gel left, but everything else has been used up. It’s a real bummer that we can’t get Neways in Kenya but that’s not all we can’t get.

McDonalds. Yep, while there’s KFC there is no sight of Maccas. Kenyans love chicken and chips, but there are also some burger bars around the place. KFC is extremely expensive and because I’m a coeliac, can’t eat it anyway. KFC is so popular that sometimes you have to wait 30 minutes for your order.

There’s a big difference on why both Neways and Maccas aren’t in Kenya and it’s very simple – corruption. For any international company to get established in a country across East Africa, there would have to be a lot (and I mean a lot) of ‘incentive dollars’ or ‘lunch money’ handed over. I’m not saying KFC or any other business is corrupt, but I do know for a fact that both Neways and McDonalds could if they wanted to, buy their way into East Africa.

Corruption has strangled the advancement of developing countries. In 1963 Kenya and Singapore were both on the same economic level. I know that there are several reasons why Kenya is in it’s current economic state but everyone knows that corruption has eaten away at the quality of life there. It goes through every level in our communities and it is a horrible thing. It is common practise to be pulled up by police for lunch money, or be given a different price because we are white. While we will do pretty much anything to not be thrown into a Kenyan jail there is always the fight to do what is right.

The pastoral team at our church have made a stand not to give in to corruption even if they have to go to jail. Now, if we can get the other 43 million in our country to do the same maybe we might just be able to turn things around.

So, what do you do actually do for a job?

Posted on March 14, 2014 by thewildcreanberries

Here we (Shaz and Liz) are in the last week of a month speaking tour in New Zealand (NZ) before we head to Aussie to do the same. We’ve been in schools, unis, Rotary Clubs and had lots and lots of coffee catchups with people.

In this month alone we’ve slept in 12 different beds.

Besides the question of corruption the other question I mainly get asked is “So, what do you actually do for a job?” So here’s what we actually do, although every day is different.

Sharon

I try to be in the office by 8.45am but it depends on traffic. Sometimes it takes 5 minutes, other days 30. Basically in the mornings I volunteer with an organisation called Afri-Lift which works with children and youth for very poor backgrounds. On Mondays I’m in meetings until 2pm, Tuesdays I write grants for fundraising, Wednesday’s prepare for a 6 hour teaching day, Thursday teach, Friday do marketing.

The afternoons/evenings are taken up with work for BeyondWater (the Aussie charity we started in 2007), writing LOTS of emails, blogging, social network updates, looking at projects and every now and then taking Pete out for a coffee. I work till about 9pm most nights with my other spouse – the laptop.

Some of the great kids we get to work with.

Three out of four weekends we also have programs on. One Saturday we train youth leaders, another we have a tuition program in the Kibera Slum and the third Sunday of the month we assist with the Riziki Childrens Program. That leaves us one extra Sunday to meet up with some young couples we are mentoring.

In addition we host lots of international visitors, sometimes go to the Kibera Slum with food packages or randomly do things like have the odd day off.

Pete

My days are certainly never dull and boring. Like Sharon, on Mondays we have a staff meeting for a couple of hours but every day/week is different. Sometimes you’ll find me tiling a kitchen, fixing a tractor, buying a truckload full of seeds to transporting tomatoes. You will also see me working with teenage boys training them on the ‘how tos’ of farming. This might mean pulling apart something that doesn’t work and showing them how to fix it. A lot tends to break down and it’s giving the locals the skills so next time they can fix it themselves. When I say things are varied, it’s a slight understatement. One morning I might be trying to find a market for the produce that the trainees grow and then that afternoon helping to install a water tank.

Pete showing one of the boys how to use machinery.

I try and spend 2 – 3 days out at the farm which is about an hours drive. But I also need to be in town to work out all the other stuff. I’m not confined to an office or computer but every couple of days you can’t get away from paperwork. I work with a small team of people who have different roles but one thing I’ve learnt is that you can never over communicate.

Here in Kenya things are complicated and take much longer than say in Australia. You can’t go to one hardware store and get everything you want. Just because they say something is definitely in stock doesn’t mean it’s actually there.

This year I’m trying to take a couple of afternoons off a week. So far I’ve failed miserably.

Every couple of months we get personally involved with our water projects. That might mean driving a few hours to meet up with the community to make sure they’re on track.

That in a nutshell is our life, but it’s much more interesting in reality than in print. We meet amazing people, every day is a challenge and there is lots of work yet to be done.

Why not join us by:

Giving (ask me how)
Joining us (long or short tem)
Find out more (shoot me an email – thewildcreanberries@gmail.com)

The Trial of Getting a Visa

Posted on February 15, 2014 by thewildcreanberries

Pete puts it nicely – It’s not difficult to live in Kenya, it’s just complicated.

With 5 days out before we started out 52 journey home I remembered I didn’t have a visa for our 15 hour stay in Mumbai, India. Great for someone who has put together a 7 week itinerary through a few countries, schools, churches, clubs and business meetings – I totally forgot about this.

No worries, after a couple of phone calls and checking out the website which stated that a transit visa could be done in one day and only $27 each. It’s kind of weird, India just announced that you can finally get a visa at the airport, just not a transit one. Liz has travelled through Mumbai airport a few times, me I haven’t been there for over 20 years. Most people say to stay clear of this airport but we had no choice. BeyondWater generously paid for my ticket but Liz was a different story. She has to be back in Aussie anyway as part of her pension agreement and she had no spare money.

So the trip has ended up Nairobi to Dubai, to Mumbai, to Singapore to Sydney. Sure it is painfully long but cut the price down by $1,000, so it will be worth it.

I convinced Joy, one of my co-workers to take Liz and I into town on a matatu as he was taking the car out to the farm. His motorbike won’t be ready for a few more days. Joy says she will be at our place the next morning at 6.30am, as she says, it’s better to be there early than to wait forever, and you never know what the traffic will be like.

First though we had to get new passport photos as the India visa requires a different size. Pete’s out late working so we walk up to the mall (only 15 minutes) and get our new photos at a price of $10. They look good, but we also had some normal size ones sitting in our draw at home.

Joy arrives on time as promised. She had to convince her parents that she wasn’t chucking a sickie from work and walks a distance to our apartment. Pete drops us off at Lavington, a 10 minute drive away and we manage to get straight into a matatu, which is rare. It’s normal practise to wait until the matatu fills up before it leaves and we filled the last seats.

This is what a matatu may look like.

Now this is not a nice flash new 10 seater van. This is a beatup looking thing with Kenny Rogers and Lionel Richie blaring out over the speakers. The great thing about catching a matatu is that they go where no one else dares and at a speed that is crazy for around here. If I were to drive not only would the parking be a nightmare, it would take 2 hours in the morning. We were moving along nicely until all of a sudden the traffic came to a standstill. This didn’t deter our thrifty driver, he swerved to the right and headed on the wrong side of the road, side swiping a cyclist with a passenger (they were fine) and he headed to the front of the line. While there is an insane driver there is also the conductor who collects the money (50 cents for a one way ride). He may or may not have a seat and when someone wants to get off he whacks the side of the van to tell the driver to pull over. He is also happy to yell out the one window that work ‘’Town, town’ in case someone needs a lift.

All is well until we near the CBD where we don’t move for 20 minutes. We decide to walk, a much better option. As soon as we get out a drunk elderly man walks past Liz and says ‘Nice hat’ – she wasn’t wearing one.

Right on 8.30 we get to a building that a security officer says is the high commission office. No signs, just another guard who tells us to leave our bag at the entrance. As in every other public place the security wand is waved over us. We proceed to a room that looks like an ancient library. Still no signs, no staff, just a couple of people who tell us that the line is the seating. So we sit for an hour. Slowly the crowd builds up, but no staff.

A view of the Nairobi CBD

Dead on 9.30am a man walks in with his stamp, get’s it on the correct date and yells ‘next’. That my friend is but step one in the process. This nice gentleman says to go to the opposite room (no signs yet) where we take a seat. Our number (3) is called. The lady goes through the stamped papers and tells us we need to see her manager – the man seated next to her. We return to our seats to see the manager telling a woman that he ‘won’t process her visa and why did she leave it till now to get it’. No worries I thought, we’ve called, checked out the website. Liz and I approach the desk. He asks if these are the tickets (they say they are), we give all the forms. He knows what date we fly out, he knows we need a transit visa. He brings out another form which we duly fill in. He gets out his receipt book and starts with adding about another $15 to the fee.

At this point, I ask again for the umpteenth time ‘So, we will get a visa by the time we fly out on Friday’. He stops, puts his pen down and asks what time our flight is. His simple answer is ‘No, it won’t happen’. No, you can pay more and get it done faster, no reason why, just that he won’t do it. He’s the manager and it was his choice.

Stuff it I think to myself. How many times do you have to ask about time frames, will something get done, is it possible? I’m not asking to be in the country forever, just 15 hours.

‘I will have to withdraw my application’ I say. No reaction from him except ‘That’s your choice’.

What a dude.

So after a drink we catch an even more dodgy matatu back to work. Liz, she loses her phone.

No visa = changing tickets to be in India for only 6 hours + $100USD. I think it was worth it.

Today at 11.35pm we head for home.

Let’s Stop Bagging the Rich

Posted on January 29, 2014 by thewildcreanberries

It seems that so many people are up in arms about Oxfam’s news release that 85 people own 110 trillion dollars. While I agree with some of their findings there were a few unclear issues for example not naming anyone on their list.

When I talk with former street kids who are in a training program, they will often say that I’m rich because we drive a nice car and are white. I quickly remind them of some facts:

They have a roof over their head, education, clothing and training with the guarantee of a job at the end of it – all for free. So that makes them rich compared to someone living in a slum.
Everything we have has been donated by our faithful partners overseas. We own nothing nor have the ability to earn money. We are totally reliant on our faith in God.

So what do we consider rich to be? Is it that someone has more than me, better clothes, a nicer car or endless cash to burn?

One thing I can tell you that poverty does not glorify God.

And why do we have the need to pull down those who have more, or much more than us? It doesn’t change our situation or our attitude. Yet in our eyes we feel justified by doing it.

If you take a further step and look at some of the worlds richest billionaires not all of them or even a fair percentage have inherited wealth. Somewhere along the way they started a company of some sort. For anyone who has started a business, you know it is a lot of sacrifice, blood, sweat and tears. There are times when your business nearly goes bust and then times of great fruitfulness. Mostly though it’s just a lot of hard work. There are plenty of sleepless nights and way too much paperwork.

I admire people who have been able to make their business profitable.

If it weren’t for some business people we wouldn’t have been able to do what we’ve done. There are friends who have sacrificially given both from their profits and in hope that things will turn around for them.

What we need to do is stop judging. Who says you can’t own more than one house? Why not do such things as an investment for your children and their children.

We need to realise that we all have times of great need and great abundance. When we were youth workers in Christchurch, New Zealand there were weeks when we had hardly any money. As a mother it was horrible looking into the fridge and hoping that when I opened the door that food would magically appear. We’ve had other times when we have had enough so that we could but things such things as a television or furniture for people who were in need.

I tell you now I would much prefer to be on the side of having enough to give to others than always in need.

Right now we are on assignment in Kenya, working with young people. One of our biggest struggles is that as part of our visa permit we can’t go out and earn money. Having to rely on others is a huge burden.

Our times of need are much more often than our times of abundance. Even this month we are not sure if we can pay our rent but we’re believing that by Friday the money will be there. Some people rave on about how they ‘live by faith’ as if it’s an easy journey. Trust me, it isn’t.

In addition to not judging (because everyone has a story) we also can give thanks for what we DO have. An attitude of gratefulness helps us to enjoy what we have and stop looking at what we don’t.

Instead of criticising billionaires or those we consider richer than us, let’s start learning from them and see what we can put into practise for ourselves.

Size doesn’t Matter

Posted on January 14, 2014 by thewildcreanberries

We seem to be caught up in a world of numbers (how big your church, outreach, youth group), money (how much you are on) strength (how many pushups you can do) and belongings (how many properties you own). Sometimes I get a bit over it. When did numbers and money become the ultimate goal of life?

Sure, I love having money to do the things we want to do, who doesn’t? I love travelling (been to 18 countries, and not just airports), I love speaking to the thousands and I love doing crazy things like white water rafting on The Nile.

Bushwalking in Kenya

But one thing I’ve learned over the years is that there will always be someone smarter, richer, more fit and better at some things than myself – and that’s okay. I’ve completed an MBA but want to do another Masters Degree some time soon but does that make me more than someone who has just done their undergrad? Does it make me lesser of a person because I choose not to do a PhD?

I think it’s time we put quantity aside and look at quality of something.

We are on assignment in Kenya (that’s East Africa if you didn’t know) for who knows how long. There’s no shortage of NGO’s, community help groups, churches or ‘mega outreaches’. If you go into the slums you can see endless schools in tin shacks, lunchtime church meetings and welfare organisations operating. I dread to think how much aid and development money has gone into organisations and I ask myself ‘What impact is it making?’

Now while this might sound a tad negative, actually it’s a good thing. We constantly look at what we’re involved in and are more than happy to see lives changed forever.

Liz showing the trainees how to use the bean sorter

Kids are going to school where before they had no way in. Others are no longer living on the street and stealing, they are being educated and are now in jobs. Some who were sponsored are now volunteering, giving back to their community. We’re working with an organisation that doesn’t have the thousands on the books but their history is quite incredible – schools, sponsorship programs, agricultural training, leadership programs are just a bit of what they’ve done. That’s because they are into developing young people and not just giving a handout.

Teaching computers on a donated laptop

The key is not how many have come through the door of your work, but what lifetime change are you bringing?

For us personally, the person who gives us $5 a month to keep us here is as much as of a hero as someone who gives 10 times more. Every person who gives does so sacrificially. We have those in their seventies who give from their small pension. There are those who are students who have an after school job and give to us, while others give from their house rentals. It’s not about the amount but the impact it’s made.

Some generous person gave us $500 as a one off gift and from some of that we were able to give some teenage boys their first ever Christmas party. That meant small presents, a buffet lunch, party hats, streamers – the works. They got involved in making the meal and decorating the room and it was a special time for all of us – especially our family. Rather than being a day where we miss our youngest daughter (even more than normal), we were out with a bunch of kids who had no place to call home. But this was only possible because someone sacrificed A LOT.

Present opening

So please don’t look down on what you do or give – it does make a difference – if not to you to the person you are helping out.

It’s not the size it’s the heart motivation that the action is done in

Want to find out how you can help in our work – check it out HERE.

thewildcreanberries

Our Adventures In Kenya & Beyond

Tag Archives: kenya

Honour Thy Father

The Windsor

Daughter of a Missionary

Daughter of a Missionary

Lizo Crean

Neways, Maccas and Corruption

So, what do you do actually do for a job?

The Trial of Getting a Visa

Let’s Stop Bagging the Rich

Size doesn’t Matter