Because There's Hope in Jesus

A young man was brought into the hospital by his family.  They had found him after an attempted suicide by drinking pesticides, a common form of suicide here due to its accessibility and affordability.  The man was apparently involved in a dysfunctional relationship, which the family disapproved of, and seeing no way out of his predicament he therefore decided the best solution was to end his life.  That was the story of this despondent young man's story when Eli first met him in the ER at the hospital.  Thankfully, his attempted suicide did not succeed.  And thankfully, his story was about to take an incredible turn.

After resuming consciousness, it was obvious this man held little hope for whatever lay ahead.  His face was drawn, his posture limp, his eyes weary.  He had hoped to escape his life, not return to it.  Being rescued from death, it seemed, was not good news.  Eli was concerned for this patient, wondering if he'd be discharged only to make another attempt to destroy his own life.

But later that day the young man was visited by a hospital chaplain, a kind Kenyan man committed to nurturing the spiritual needs of patients.  That chaplain boldly but lovingly shared the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Good News, and it was a turning point for this young man.  What he heard was a story of love and grace and hope that could be infused into his own story and alter it for the better forevermore.  The man decided to believe in the saving grace of Jesus, and the change was instantaneous.  Eli showed up the next day and could scarcely believe it was the same man he'd seen the day before.  It was obvious this man held great hope for whatever lay ahead.  His face was glowing, his posture confident, his eyes joyful.  He had hoped to escape his life, but was now thankful he'd failed the venture.  Being rescued from death, it seemed, was suddenly good news.  Being rescued from Death was even greater news!  The young man's life was outwardly transformed because of the inward transformation done through the grace of Jesus Christ.

The man was eventually discharged and went home to a life with circumstances that looked much like they had before, but he went home with the ability to perceive those circumstances differently if not change those circumstances altogether.  Because when Jesus enters a life there is hope.

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace 

as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope 

by the power of the Holy Spirit."

Romans 15:13

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A girl, maybe 13 or 14 years old, was brought into the Maternal and Child Health clinic.  She wasn't performing well in school, her mother said, and despite moving her around from school to school her academics weren't improving.  They came to Tenwek to see if anything could be done to help her.

The staff at MCH called Eli to assess the girl.  Probable causes for her poor performance ran through his head as he walked toward the building.  Did she need IQ testing?  Was her vision okay?  As Eli met with the girl and her mother, however, it quickly became apparent that her issues were not clinical/physical, but social and emotional.  She was a social outcast at school and was being bullied and was struggling with low self-esteem.  No wonder her grades were suffering.  But what was to be done?  A prescription or procedure wouldn't solve her problems.

A Clinical Officer (the equivalent of a Nurse Practitioner) volunteered to do a more thorough counseling session the next day, and during that time she shared the Gospel with the girl, who chose to accept it.  The girl went home, not with a promise that her school situation would automatically improve but with a promise that Jesus would walk with her every step of the way.  She now has Someone to turn to when other kids at school shun her.  She now has Someone to believe in who holds her future in the palm of His hand.  She now has Someone to cling to for hope.  Because when Jesus enters a life there is hope.

"This is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance 

(and for this we labor and strive), 

that we have put our hope in the living God, 

who is the Savior of all men, 

and especially of those who believe."

1 Timothy 4:9-10


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It is a blessing and honor to be part of something that helps turn stories of despair into stories of hope. It's a true joy to know that the ministry of Tenwek Hospital, the ministry we are presently fully invested in, is sharing the hope of Jesus Christ with the people who come here seeking help.  May His name be made known among the nations, including the nation of Kenya, and may He be continually glorified through the small role we play in making Him known.

Counting the Cost

In the story of the Rich Young Man (Matthew 19:16-30) we are challenged to count the cost of following Jesus.  For the eponymous character in the story, the cost was to sell all his possessions and give them to the poor.  "Then come, follow me," Jesus instructed him.  But the man went away sad because he had great wealth.  The cost of following Jesus was too much for him.

At least, we assume it was too much for him.  The story doesn't indicate that he ever did sell his possessions and give them to the poor and then follow Jesus.  The rich young man went away from that encounter with sadness, which indicates that he went away from that encounter with no intention of coming back.  But I'd like to believe that some people, maybe even the rich young man included, initially went away sad at the thought of the sacrifice required to follow Jesus, but upon counting the cost decided to follow Jesus anyway.  It's certainly not everyone's first reaction to jump for joy after counting the cost.  In fact, I'm inclined to think that most of us (myself included) are weighed down with a degree of sadness when we truly realize how much sacrifice is required of us.  I'd also like to think that despite our tears and hanging heads and outright sorrow, Jesus is still pleased when we choose to follow Him anyway because a willing heart is a heart that's able to be transformed to all He wants it to become, which is the ultimate reason for following Jesus anyway.

Here is my honest confession: I had a Rich Young Man moment right before we came to Kenya.  It was Easter weekend, two days before our departure.  We had traveled across the state of Michigan to spend the day with my dad's family and I knew it would be a day of mixed emotions.  My family was excited for us to be on our way, but also sad to let us go, and I knew it'd be particularly hard because of one final goodbye: my grandpa.  My Grandpa Clark was 90 years old and his health had been rapidly declining for awhile and I simply knew that once I said goodbye I would never see him again.  I kissed his cheek and said "I love you" and subsequently threw myself into my cousin's arms and wept.  Let me tell you, in that moment my heart understood what the rich young man felt like.  My wealth was not in material possessions like his, but I am incredibly rich in the blessing of my family and I counted the cost that day and felt an immense sadness at what is being required of us.  Jesus has asked us to give up the proximity of family and the opportunities for family gatherings and the joy of making memories with them.  And after all this He said, "Then come, follow me."

And we did.  We followed Jesus all the way to Kenya, where He's been busy molding us and teaching us and stretching us and transforming us.  I do not regret following Him, and I never will.  But yes, I got on the plane and followed Him with a degree of sadness in my heart.

Then, last Friday morning after being here nearly three months, I got the news: Grandpa Clark had died.  I knew it would happen, and I knew it would be sooner than later, but it still came as a blow.  I sobbed.  I ached for the loss itself, and also for the separation of an ocean as I attempted to grieve in isolation from the rest of my family.  I'm still aching because of this.  My grandpa is gone, I won't be at the funeral, and trying to grieve from afar has proven to be an odd experience at best.  I long to go home, to just be there and participate in the communal grieving with my family and also the celebration of a long life well lived.

But alas, I am here in Kenya and going home is not an option for several reasons.  And so I am grieving from here and trying to stay connected with my family as best as I can.  Friday was a rough day, and by the end I decided to take a bath to soothe my aching muscles.  As I sat in the hot water and thought about my grandpa, I penned a poem in my head.  It allowed me to put into words what I'd been feeling all day:

Knowing that the end was near

reflecting on the past

Watching, waiting, wondering

and then he breathed his last

Hearing from across the world

of his ascent to glory

Now we know the final chapter

of my grandpa's story

Grieving nearly all alone

far from those gathered near

Weeping for the painful loss

of a man held dear

Longing to go home again

and grieve collectively

To cry within a realm

of familiarity

Aching from the struggle

of what we've sacrificed

Clinging to the promise

of the hope we have in Christ

Knowing that the end was near

reflecting on our call

Submitting to the One who knows

the cost of giving all

What we have sacrificed is real, but it's a fraction of what Christ Himself gave up for us.  He has led by example and asks that we follow Him.  May any degree of sadness accompanied with counting the cost never be enough to keep us from faithfully following Him anyway!

Shortly after the rich young man went away sad, Jesus said this: "And everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother [or grandfather or grandmother] or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life" (Matthew 19:29).  That is our promise, and that is what I'm clinging to in these days of grieving and reflecting half a world away.

Grandma and Grandpa Clark with Asa last Christmas

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We invite your prayers for us and our family during this time.  My grandparents' 70th anniversary is today, June 21, and Grandpa desperately wanted to make it to this day of celebration but was five days short.  The visitation will be held today instead, with the funeral tomorrow morning.

Adjustments

We knew that moving to a new country would require many adjustments, and we knew those adjustments would be hard, and we knew it would be exhausting to constantly manage those adjustments.  We knew it would happen, we knew it would be hard, and we knew it would be exhausting.  Yet, somehow, we are finding ourselves amazed that it's actually taking a toll on us, as if all the foreknowledge in the world should have been enough to cancel out the hard and exhausting parts of adjusting to life in a new country and culture.  But all the foreknowledge in the world has not canceled out the hard and exhausting parts.  We have been in Kenya for nearly two months and sometimes it feels like we know even less than when we first arrived because everyday exposes how much we don't yet know or understand about living here.

Knowing beforehand that living here would require numerous adjustments did indeed help to prepare us, particularly for the adjustments we expected to face (like being stared at all the time, or having difficulty communicating because our American accent is so different from their Kenyan accent, or not being able to pop a frozen pizza in the oven when that's all I can handle by dinner time).  But little could have prepared us for the adjustments we didn't expect to face (like brown water, or bug bites despite mosquito nets, or people knocking on our door multiple times a day).  And therein lies the irony: a huge part of adjusting to life in Kenya is learning to cope with the unlooked for, but necessary, adjustments.

Most of it is hard, but certainly not all of it.  Some things make us rise to the challenge (like cooking from scratch) while others leave us downright frustrated and annoyed (like our kids getting bug bites from an unknown source).  Some things we've adjusted to quickly (like washing all our produce in bleach water) while other things are taking a much longer time to adjust to (like having househelp in our home).  Ups and downs.  Pluses and minuses.  All of it summed up in one word: adjustments!

Let me highlight some particular areas that will further my point and also offer a peek into our daily life in Kenya.


Water

We didn't know until we arrived at Tenwek that the water coming through the pipes is usually a shade of brown.  It comes from the river and is filled with alum that taints the color.  It's not safe to drink, which we knew beforehand and is also why we drink filtered rainwater, but we still brush our teeth with it and wash our dishes with it and do our laundry with it and bathe in it.  This is what the water looks like before our dirty boys get into the tub:

Quite frankly, we don't mind bathing in brown water, or washing our dishes in it, or brushing our teeth with it.  What we weren't prepared for is what it does to our clothes in the wash.  It stains clothes and somehow makes them gritty.  We quickly had to come to terms with the fact that some of our clothes might not last the two years we are here.  After a couple weeks of frustration and staring at our kids' clothes while wondering how their shirts are supposed to last two years when they're barely lasting two weeks, we heard from another missionary that we can wash clothes by hand with rainwater to prevent staining.  So we quickly adopted that method for our light-colored clothes in an attempt to preserve them, which has done wonders.  Our househelp does laundry twice a week for us and washes half of it by hand with water from the giant rain barrel outside.  We've decided to keep washing the dark clothes in the washing machine because stains are hard to see on them anyway.  So we've found a middle ground and are adjusting to the water situation.  (On another note, whenever I wash my hair with water from the pipes, my hair becomes funky.  There's no other way to describe it.  It does something weird to our hair, and mine is long enough to be frustrated by it, so I wash my hair with rainwater instead, filling a big Coke bottle from the rain barrel before taking a shower.  Almost every other white woman does the same thing here.)

Cooking

Almost everything needs to be made from scratch.  Many modern food items can be found in Nairobi, but they come at a price and a 4-hour drive.  Some things can even be found here in Bomet (sliced bread, and most recently - butter), but most things need to be made from scratch.  Tortillas?  From scratch.  Muffins?  From scratch.  Guacamole?  From scratch.  There are no pre-made mixes or a frozen food aisle at the local market.  So we've been learning a lot about cooking!  It can take a lot of time, especially since we're trying many things for the first time, but it's also very rewarding to know we can still eat familiar foods if we're willing to put the time into making them.

One of my first attempts was to make pizza.  It was a bold choice since the one thing I have failed at every single time is homemade bread, which is the same category as pizza crust.  And I failed yet again when I made my first pizza here, but Eli was gracious with my attempt and helped me salvage the wreckage, and by golly we ate it and it wasn't awful!  I made a Hawaiian pizza with ham I bought in Nairobi and pineapple I bought here at the hospital, and I've made several Hawaiian pizzas since (with varying degrees of successful crusts, but all edible).  We've also had pizzas with sausage from Nairobi, pepperoni from America, and peppers, onions, and tomatoes from the local market.  It's been an adventure that we're committed to continuing.  Friday Night Pizza Night is a Tenwek tradition and we are happy to adjust to that!

Another cooking success has been homemade chicken nuggets.  Caleb and Kai love chicken nuggets and we weren't sure how our transition into Kenya would go without access to them.  But I quickly found an amazing and easy recipe on the Pioneer Woman's website, and they were such a hit that we've made our own tradition of making chicken nuggets every Sunday for lunch after church.

Another adjustment in the realm of cooking has been to wash all our produce in bleach water before eating it.  It's not a big deal, but does require a bit of forethought.  When dinnertime comes, I can't just pull the apples out of the fridge and cut them up.  I have to fill the basin with water and a cap full of bleach, let them soak for a bit, then rinse them again before cutting them up.  We've gotten better at washing our fruit and veggies ahead of time, but sometimes it still escapes us until we're pulling a meal together and realize we didn't wash the carrots we're planning to use in the curry.  Maybe someday it will become second nature to buy tomatoes and wash them right away so they're ready to use!

Bugs

There are a lot of bugs in Kenya.  This was something we knew ahead of time, but it has been more of an adjustment than we anticipated.  Mosquitoes are annoying, but we sleep under mosquito nets and basically cope with them like we do in the summertime in the States.  Ants will occasionally creep into the house, but they can be squished or swept out of the house and soon forgotten.  The real adjustment has been dealing with the unknown bugs that bite us overnight.  We all have mosquito nets which mostly work (although the occasional mosquito does find its way into the net and buzzes in our ears in the middle of the night), but there have been a handful of times when one or more of us wake up with random bites that we cannot place where they came from.

One night I woke up to the feeling of something crawling across my face.  I flailed and freaked out and subsequently left Eli to fend for himself when Kai woke up crying a few minutes later and needed someone to snuggle with him.  Sure enough, in the morning I discovered two bites on my neck from whatever the creepy crawly was that found its way into our bed.

On two different occasions, Kai has suffered bug bites on his ear which have led to swelling and blistering and weeping.  We had to combat the symptoms with ibuprofen and Benadryl, and despite asking around we still have no idea what kind of bug did this to our poor boy.

Perhaps worst of all is when our completely innocent and defenseless infant gets bit.  A few times he's woken up with bites on his hands or face.  The most recent episode included bites on his forehead and throughout his hair.  They weren't mosquito bites but we have no idea what else they came from.  Spider?  Bed bug?  It's anyone's guess, and it's been hard to adjust to this enigma.

Househelp

Twice a week we have two househelpers working in our home.  One woman cleans the house and does our laundry while another woman cooks.  Once a week we have a third househelper who works in our garden and does other odd jobs as needed.  While there are many benefits to househelp, such as the obvious help with time-consuming tasks like meal prep and cleaning and laundry, it has been the most difficult adjustment for me.  I never imagined how awkward it would be to have someone in my home, cleaning the floors of the living room while I'm sitting on the couch reading books to my kids, or how invasive I feel in our own kitchen because I need to access the snack cupboard for the boys.  I also never imagined how stressful it would be to have my "safe zone" taken from me twice a week.  Our home is the only place where it's possible to retreat from the outside world.  If we walk out the door, there's nowhere we can go without being instantly on display because of our white skin.  There's no walk we can take where eyes aren't watching our every move.  There's no coffee shop or library or mall where we can blend into the crowd.  There is nowhere for us to go to avoid being the center of attention except our very own home.  Twice a week, when I am home with our kids like I am every day, the freedom of being in such a "safe zone" is taken away when our househelp enter our home for the day, and it's surprisingly stressful.

Despite the stress, we've decided it's worth it because of the benefits.  I don't like having my space and privacy invaded, but I do like having fresh bread that I don't know how to bake myself.  I also like having the laundry that needs to be done by hand done by someone else's hands who knows how to work out water stains.  And I like having someone monitor our garden since I know nothing about gardening but would love to eat lettuce, for example, which can only be found by planting lettuce seeds in the soil.  So the benefits are real.  Furthermore, hiring househelp also offers employment to the people working for us, which is an important contribution the missionaries offer to the community here.

There are other benefits too.  For instance, because we have a Kenyan cook twice a week, we get to eat traditional Kenyan meals like this beef stew and chapati that leave us begging for more.

On the other hand, because we have a Kenyan cook twice a week, we occasionally discover the limitations of someone who doesn't have an oven in her own home trying to bake with our oven.  Yesterday H made this apple pie because we had extra apples and I asked her to, and when I saw it sitting on the counter after a long and stressful day of multiple confusing cross-cultural encounters, I could only think that is Not My Mother's Apple Pie and I wanted to cry.  Why does it matter that the apples were diced instead of sliced, or that it was more like apple soup instead of pie?  I don't know.  But somehow it did matter on a day like yesterday and I nearly lost it.  Caleb liked the crust, which is ironic since the top was burned, but at least there was a silver lining.

Other adjustments regarding househelp have involved sorting out their insurance and Social Security benefits which we're required to pay for.  We naively assumed that hiring househelp would simply require paying them cash at the end of the month, but there's more to it than that, and adding requests for advances on top of that (and wondering how to handle those requests mixed with wondering if we even have enough cash on hand to give an advance without prior notice) all makes for a stressful situation sometimes.  So it's been a huge adjustment on many fronts, one that was unlooked for.

Open Door Policy

Last but not least has been the adjustment to so many people coming to our door at all hours of the day.  We live in close proximity to many people, and some people pop over just to say hi or drop something off, which is nice.  But many people also knock on our door because they're selling something, or straight-up asking for money, and there's simply no way to avoid the oft revolving door unless I literally shut the door and close the curtains.  There's an Open Door Policy here, which can be a beautiful thing, but can also be an annoying thing.  I like having the door and curtains open because it lets in fresh air and sunshine.  But the cost is that the rest of the world knows I'm home and available, and there's no putting a Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob.  If someone comes to our door hoping to sell me bananas, or a basket, or whatever, I need to answer the door.  Because if I don't, that person will wait patiently until I do, and Kenyans are very patient people.  Because my door is open, it means I'm somewhere inside and they are willing to wait if it means they can sell me something for a hundred shillings (the equivalent of a dollar).  And everyone who comes to the door is friendly and kind and greets me with a smile and a handshake, and often I'm actually interested in what they're selling, but sometimes I just want to remain in the house undisturbed because I'm busy enough with the kids and pausing whatever we're doing to answer the door and make an instant decision about pineapples isn't a convenient thing to do.

So it's been an adjustment of learning the balance between leaving the front door open but not the back door (because people come to both doors), versus leaving both doors open because the fresh air and sunshine is simply worth it in this place of idyllic weather.


And so we are adjusting to life in Kenya, which has required some coping skills and a willingness to learn new things and much appreciation for the way some things are done differently here that are better than the way we do things in America.  But we are adjusting.  Slowly but surely!  God has been good to sustain us through all of it, and He will be faithful to sustain us still.  All praise and glory go to Him for creating people and culture in the first place which require adjusting to and which stretch us to become more like Him as we see people and culture through His eyes.

Cow Dedication

[This event took place four weeks ago, and I'm just now getting the chance to write about it.  Life has been busy.  There are many things I want to write about already, and I hope to write in a more timely manner in the future.  Thanks for your patience as we continue transitioning into life here in Kenya and seem a bit "off the grid."]


You would think the most memorable part of a cow dedication would be the cow dedication itself.  Perhaps that would have been true if I hadn't also experienced an onslaught of onlookers as I nursed my baby in the car.  If white skin attracts a lot of attention here (and it does), white baby skin draws even more.  That was apparent as soon as we drove up to the lovely church and exited the car.  Three white ladies plus a young white girl plus a white baby seemed to be the highlight of the year for many Kenyan parishioners, particularly the children.  And when one of those wazungu [white people] stood up in the middle of the service to carry her mzungu baby from the front row, down the aisle, and out the back door, many intrigued Kenyan children eagerly followed to see what was going on.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.  Let me back up to why we were there.  A friend of mine (who's been serving at Tenwek Hospital since last fall) was invited to speak during the service and asked if I wanted to tag along, which was how I found myself at a cow dedication at a village church.  This friend of mine was asked to speak because she's involved with Tabitha Ministry, an outreach to Kenyan women who live in the surrounding area of Tenwek Hospital who are active in a Women's Bible Study.  The ministry gives women the opportunity to earn a Bible in their own language through memorizing Scripture.  It also helps women in need through a variety of ways, including giving cows to help with their income.  This particular Sunday service was a celebration of one such woman who had applied and been approved to receive a cow, and my friend was the guest speaker and the rest of us were honored guests simply because we were there.  It was a joyous occasion and I was delighted to experience it.

We were greeted by many people when we arrived, and we could hear singing inside.  The congregation was sparse at first, but soon enough every chair was taken and people were standing in the back and out the door.  It was a special Sunday for this village church, and it seemed everyone had come to witness the cow dedication, as well as the white people on display!

We had the privilege of sitting in the front row.  There was a lot of singing.  Most of the songs were sung in Kipsigis, the local language, and we followed along with the Kipsigis hymnal.  There was something powerful about singing in the company of fellow believers with words I didn't understand and yet knowing that those unfamiliar words were offering praise to God.

All the while we sang, the cow was directly outside, mooing along.  It must have sensed that something special was happening because that cow mooed a lot!

While the cow waited and mooed in the yard, the congregation kept singing.  Interspersed with the worship were many greetings.  Various leaders of the church offered greetings, all of the leaders of the women's Bible study offered greetings, as well as some others in between that I couldn't tell you who they were.  In this culture, it doesn't matter how long the service goes as long as everyone is given the proper chance to be welcomed and give greetings and offer public thanks to God.

During some of the greetings, Asa got passed around.  He was remarkably content being held by complete strangers who obviously adored him.  Many women wanted to hold him and many children couldn't help but stare at him in wonder.  He was the object of much affection and curiosity.

Eventually, the choir performed.  Their bright orange outfits were particularly appropriate on such a festive occasion.  I also appreciated that so many children and youth were part of the choir.  I wish more children in American churches would be given the chance to sing in front of the congregation like this!

The offering was taken while the choir sang.  A basket was passed around, as you might expect, but I also noticed people walking to the front with bags of items.  My friend explained that those who can't afford to put money into the offering will bring something from their farm/garden and offer it to the church.  The food is auctioned off to someone in the congregation right then and there, and the money is added to the offering.  Someone brought a bag of corn and a woman seated near us bought it.  Another person brought a large stalk of sugarcane, which was auctioned and then cut into pieces for the children to enjoy as a treat after the cow dedication.  It was such a beautiful image of the Body of Christ bringing whatever they have, and all they have, before the Lord.

There were more greetings after the choir sang, and someone spoke before the official sermon.  We had already been there a couple hours by that point, however, and Asa was getting both tired and hungry.  It was soon apparent that he needed to be nursed, so I grabbed the diaper bag and the car keys and I quietly stood up in the middle of someone's speech to walk as discreetly as a mzungu and her baby can down the aisle and out the back door of the church.

The fresh air was welcome and I greeted a few people as I walked across the lawn toward the car.  Before I got there, however, I was surrounded by children, laughing and jabbering in Kipsigis as they touched my hair and pointed at Asa.  We were clearly more entertaining than the church service at that point.  No doubt they were wondering why the white lady and white baby were leaving.  Even though nursing a baby is more than common here, and certainly common to do in plain sight, it probably didn't occur to them that the reason for my departure was to have some privacy as I nursed my baby.  Privacy isn't valued highly here, but I still needed it and the only place to acquire some was in the back seat of the hot car.  So I maneuvered my way into the car and closed the door on dozens of children as Asa started crying in earnest out of hunger and exhaustion.  It was hot in there, but I wouldn't have opened the windows even if I could have because those dozens of children were now pressing their faces against the glass to see what on earth that white lady was doing in there with the baby!  I did my best to cover up even though the blanket only made it hotter for Asa.  Soon, not only were children staring at me with faces pressed to windows on both sides of the car, but the car started rocking as some kids pulled others off in order to get their own chance to stare at whatever was going on inside.  They were standing on the running board of the car so they'd be high enough to look in, and kids on both sides were being pulled off and then replaced by eager kids jumping onto the running board again, thereby rocking the entire car back and forth while I attempted in vain to nurse Asa to sleep.  He cried and fussed but somehow drank enough milk to tide him over.  I eventually gave up and sat him up since he certainly wasn't falling asleep.  I pulled out my camera to take pictures of our onlookers, which temporarily scared them away.  Since it was obvious we wouldn't be left in peace, and since Asa wouldn't fall asleep in those conditions, I gave up completely and got out of the car.  Soon enough the children dispersed and I was left to walk and shush Asa around the yard.  He eventually fell asleep in the carrier, but by the time I got back into the church the sermon was over and it was time to move outside for the cow dedication!

Everyone massed around the cow in the yard, which seemed unaffected by the crowd.  The church leaders and Bible study leaders gathered in the front and someone started singing.  Some words were spoken and then more singing.  The woman who received the cow was invited to come forward and take a part of the rope as even more singing commenced.  Her joy and gratitude for this enormous gift were evident as she wiped away tears, which are rarely seen in this culture.  In addition to the cow itself, the animal was de-wormed on the spot and the woman was given an insecticide kit to spray the cow as needed.  This particular cow was still young - not yet old enough to bear a calf - but when it does have a calf, it will have milk also and be a vital resource for this woman and her family.

So we rejoiced with this woman and the entire church community that gathered around her to support and bless her with this gift!  Once the dedication was done, we wazungu gathered in a small building behind the church to await a delicious meal of beans and rice.  The Bible study leaders joined us and we feasted on this traditional meal to conclude the celebration.  Asa had woken up by then and was passed around again.  Many smiles and laughs were seen and heard as that precious boy was held by the women!

It was a memorable day.  There are so many images in my mind from that experience, but I must admit that what stands out the most was the time in the car with all the faces pressed against the glass staring in.  I've never felt more on display in my life!  It was the epitome of all the attention we've received here, and even someone like me (who typically doesn't mind attention) was completely self-aware.  Self-awareness is something we are being forced to reckon with because we are always being watched.  But here's the good thing: even as we're paying close attention to our outward actions that are being carefully observed by those around us, we are taking the time to monitor our inward thoughts and feelings as well.  And self-reflection is always a good thing.

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I'll end this post with a few pictures of Kenyan children at the cow dedication.  They're such beautiful people and I'm eager to capture more of them on camera in the days ahead.

The Prayers of the Multitudes

So this is what it feels like to have hundreds upon hundreds of people praying for you at the same time.  I was laying in bed, still awake because of lingering jetlag, and basking in the peace that continued to surround our family.  We'd been in Kenya less than a week and the smooth transition was continuing to amaze us.  Eli and I joked about how surprised we were that things were going so smoothly.  It could only be explained by God's goodness, favor, and grace in response to the outpouring of prayer.

People were praying over our travels and transition to Kenya for weeks before we boarded the plane.  The day before we left, Easter Sunday, entire churches were lifting us up.  Literally hundreds of people were praying for us throughout the week that we ventured to Kenya, and it was palpable.  I can't explain it any other way.  We could simply feel the prayers of the saints being lifted up on our behalf, and the Lord was gracious to hear and to answer.

Our first flight, from Detroit to Amsterdam, was flawless.  We have flown a lot with our kids, and suffice it to say that anything goes when you board a plane with little kids.  We have been the parents who've had a screaming baby for 30 minutes straight, and we have been the parents whose child was wailing while trying to climb over the seat in front of him in an attempt to get a window view, and we have been the parents who've had to forcibly keep our crying child in his seat because he's required to wear a seat belt during landing.  For the record, we've had more good flights than bad, but flying with children is simply a gamble.  We took the gamble and boarded the plane in Detroit, armed with new books and toys and lots and lots of treats to pacify potentially cranky kids, but we barely needed them.  The flight was at bedtime, and after the initial excitement of being on a plane, our boys slept.  All three of our boys slept for the majority of the flight!  We could scarcely believe it.  And when they woke up not having slept enough, they were happy.  The flight to Amsterdam was flawless and we felt the prayers of the multitudes, praying specifically for our boys to do well.

The flight to Nairobi was not flawless, but it was not terrible.  Caleb did amazing and truly couldn't have done better, but poor Kai was dealing with some constipation issues that required a lot of attention and patience, and Asa was completely off schedule by that point and couldn't stay asleep very long whenever he did fall asleep.  Despite these minor setbacks, the flight went okay overall and, even more importantly, Eli and I maintained patience and peace in the midst of sleep deprivation.  We felt the prayers of the multitudes, praying specifically that we'd maintain our sanity regardless of what happened.

Getting off the plane in Nairobi was a bit of a challenge, but because we took so long and had so much to carry we were blessed to discover that we were candidates for a free ride in a special bus that went directly from the airplane right to customs.  (The bus was there to help a woman in a wheelchair, but they let us catch a ride also and we know it was God's mercy to us after such a long trip!)  Even though we were literally the last people to make it through customs, the pictures of animals on the walls kept Caleb entertained, and fruit snacks kept Kai mostly content.  And getting through customs was as smooth as could be.  All of our luggage arrived in one piece, then we arrived at our guesthouse for the night to discover that Caleb and Kai's room was the exact same layout as the room they just left in Michigan (with a bunk bed on the left and a twin bed on the right), and so it was familiar and easy for them to settle in.  We breathed a sigh of thankfulness and felt the prayers of the multitudes, praying specifically for our initial transition into the country.

The next day we spent shopping for supplies in Nairobi, which went smoothly.  The day after that we made the drive from Nairobi to the hospital, which was nearly 4 hours in the car with our kids, and the trip was flawless.  We even saw baboons on the way, and our animal-obsessed 3-year old was over the moon with excitement!  We continued to bask in the provision of peace as we felt the prayers of the multitudes, praying specifically for smooth and safe travels all the way to the hospital.

And then we were here, at Tenwek Hospital.  We arrived safely and sanely with all of our kids and all of our luggage, which can only be accredited to the grace and mercy of God and the prayers of the multitudes, praying specifically for our family the entire way here.  The peace was palpable for days, which is why I laid in bed a couple nights after getting here and thought, So this is what it feels like to have hundreds upon hundreds of people praying for you at the same time.  The peace and presence of God were close at hand, not just for a moment or an afternoon or a day, but for days on end.  And we never cease to be humbled by His grace and provision.

We've been in Kenya for a week now, and we are doing well.  There've been some bumps and bruises since we arrived (quite literally, including Kai escaping right after we got here and falling down a gully into some brambles before we found him, plus a slip on wet cement for Caleb that left a small gash in his chin that required superglue to avoid stitches), but we are somehow getting settled and beginning to feel at home.  The rainy season has begun since we've been here, and the temperatures are absolutely perfect - warm enough for short sleeves and shorts during the day but cool enough for a light jacket in he evening.  The boys can't be outside enough.  They're getting mud and dirt on every inch of their bodies while making new friends and playing with chameleons.  It is truly a little boy's paradise here!

And Eli and I are doing well despite the constant sorting of details for life here.  (How do we buy eggs?  Where do we pick up mail?  Can you find butter in town?  How do we hire a househelper?  etc etc etc)  We are busy and sleep-deprived, but the Lord is sustaining us and we are getting things figured out.  And we cannot say THANK YOU enough for the prayers of the multitudes on our behalf during this time of transition.  Thank you for praying, for caring enough to pray, for telling us you were praying, and for continuing to pray.  We have felt God's response to your prayers, and we are blessed beyond measure.  May He be glorified!

Sustaining Us

We will be moving to Kenya in two weeks, which makes us excited and nervous...and busy.  There is a lot to do, and three little boys who need a lot of attention are not conducive to getting things done.  But somehow the packing, the visas, the international drivers licenses, the will, the prescriptions, the mailings, the phone calls, the taxes, and countless other things still need to get done.  We've successfully gotten the vaccines, the physicals, the bills, the shopping, the newsletter, and countless other things in order.  It's incredible how much needs to get done.  We don't just need to pull things together for Kenya; we need to pull things together for life.  For instance, we need to make decisions about our computers: fix them or replace them?  We also need our files organized in case we need someone to access them while we're gone.  And then there's the paperwork for Eli's loans and my scholarship from grad school (which is directly related to our service on the mission field).  Everything takes time, time, and more time.  And usually emails and phone calls.  None of which is easy to do with three little boys running and rolling around.

But God is gracious and He is sustaining us.  This past fall, when we had a newborn and were training for missions and constantly on the move, we clung to Psalm 55:22, which says, "Cast your cares on the Lord and He will sustain you; He will never let the righteous fall."  We are clinging to that verse now too, grateful for the promise of a Father who cares for us and sustains us.

In the midst of the busyness right now we are also trying to keep with up relationships and say goodbyes along the way.  It's not easy, emotionally or logistically.  We had to say goodbye to Eli's parents last week, which pained us more than we can express.  Even while they were here for a final visit we were fielding emails and phone calls from people wanting to connect with us before we go.  It means the world to us that so many people care about us so deeply and care about what we're doing, and we love connecting with people, but man oh man it's really hard right now.  Emailing and calling and getting together takes time and we simply don't have much of that in these final days before departure.  We have to be very selective in how to connect with people (or not) as we try to pull everything together before we leave.  So let us simply say this: thank you for reaching out to us, and please be patient with us if it takes us too long to get back with you during this time.  We're trusting the Lord to sustain us as we continually cultivate relationships in this season of busyness and final preparations.

I thank my God every time I remember you.  

In all my prayers for all of you, 

I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel 

from the first day until now, being confident of this, 

that he who began a good work in you will carry it to completion 

until the day of Christ Jesus.

Philippians 1:3-6

Thank you for partnering in the gospel with us, for encouraging us, and for cheering us on.  We truly pray with joy when we remember the immense support we have.  May the Lord continue His good work in you, as well as in us, and hopefully we'll have the chance to connect soon and encourage one another with the work He is doing.

Headed to Kenya!

It's official!  We're headed to Kenya!  We bought our tickets this past week and will be flying on Monday, March 28 - just over three weeks away!  Our boys are excited and have been talking about Kenya all week.

Now that we have tickets, the reality is sinking in.  We're excited to go, we're nervous to go, and we're wondering how we'll get everything done that still needs to get done before departure!  Now that we have tickets, we're also being reminded of why we're doing what we're doing: there is hope and healing in Jesus, and we have the honor of sharing that Good News with the sick and vulnerable in Kenya.  The kingdom of Jesus looks like this: "The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor" (Luke 7:22).  On March 28 we'll have the privilege of officially joining the work God is doing to further build the kingdom in Kenya, and we are delighted!

Dodgy's Last Ride

Today we said goodbye to Dodgy, the 2003 Dodge Status we've been driving for the past twelve years.  I first started driving her in January of 2004, after I returned from studying abroad and needed a car to get to my off-campus job.  My parents blessed me with this car and she faithfully got me through college, through Eli's med school years, through residency and beyond.  For many years Dodgy was our only car, and my 6'5" husband willingly squeezed into that small car time and time again because it was our only way to get from Point A to Point B.  Despite all the bumps and bruises she acquired along the way, Dodgy served us well...all the way to Africa.

During the grad school years, we started praying that Dodgy would last us until we returned to Africa.  Our eyes were set on Africa even then, and we wanted to live in such a way that was financially responsible (to minimize debt in the years before eventually heading back overseas) as well as being content with what God had already provided (instead of expecting and asking for something else).  In light of that, we thanked God repeatedly for our car - which was the only car we drove during those four years - and prayed repeatedly that Dodgy would last until we could return to Africa.

God did not disappoint!

Time and time again, He provided the means for us to repair Dodgy when she needed it.  We were living on loans during grad school and couldn't afford a new car without taking out more loans, so in His goodness the Lord was repeatedly faithful to provide the money to repair Dodgy instead of replace her.  And break down she did!  But we offered our willingness to keep driving her as long as He allowed us to, and He kept offering to help her get fixed.

Even though she wasn't a perfect car, we were content.  Despite the many times people asked, "You're still driving that thing?" we laughed and said yes, we're satisfied.  We don't mind getting around in a car that's too small for Eli, or whose driver door lock hasn't worked for approximately six years, or whose exterior has been rusting and falling off from years of driving in Midwestern winters.  In other words, the condition of a car is not what matters to us, and we hope that value will serve us well no matter where in the world we are.

Dodgy took us many places, and on many road trips, and built up many miles, and she never left us stranded on the side of the road, thanks be to God.  We've been praying for at least eight years that Dodgy would last us until we returned to Africa, and ultimately the Lord let us drive her until last month, when she had her last ride just two months shy of our departure for Kenya.  Eli was driving Dodgy home from work at the urgent care when the driver-side wheel started acting up enough that he put the hazards on and made it slowly back to the house.  We knew it wasn't safe to drive her again in that condition, and it was finally not worth putting money into repairing her anymore.  For the first time since I began driving her twelve years ago, God officially put the brakes on.  In essence, He said, "I've heard your prayers and I've seen your content hearts.  I've provided for you with this car.  Dodgy has seen you to Minnesota to Chicago back to Minnesota and then to Michigan.  And now her job is done because I'm sending you to Africa."  We cannot thank God enough for His faithfulness to us, for literally providing for us with this car as well as further preparing our hearts for what lies ahead.

We donated Dodgy to an organization called Mother Waddles, which will use the car in whatever fashion they see fit to help the poor in Detroit and Southeast Michigan.  Our final prayer as the tow truck hauled Dodgy away this morning was that He would still use her to bless someone else, however He sees fit.  To God be the glory.