I went this morning to visit my dear friend Hannah. Over the past few months, I have shared several times about Hannah’s resilient spirit. In the midst of great suffering and pain, she encouraged me time and again with her love and faith. This morning, as I approached her home, I received the news that she had just passed away. I heard the cries of mourners and watched as a community gathered to support a family in their loss. Hannah was a wife, mother, grandmother, friend, and teacher to all of what it means to know and love God. Her body had been destroyed by disease but her spirit, even until her death, was full of trust in her God.
In a recent visit, Hannah and I discussed that Jesus was preparing a place for us in Heaven where there would be no more tears, pain or death. I told her that if she reached Heaven first to go and greet our Father for me, and she assured me that she would. Again, as she had done before, she looked at me with compassion and told me not to worry. She said that God was taking care of us.
On behalf of Hannah’s family, I say thank you for the prayers you have prayed. They were heard and answered. I have no doubt she is resting sweetly with our Lord. But for those of us who are left behind, especially for Hannah’s family, there is a great void. Please continue to pray for God’s peace and comfort to overflow.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
I wanted to share with you a story from my weekend....
I must confess that sitting still for long periods of time is not one of my strengths. This is unfortunate because Kenyans (at least in my village) are extremely good at doing just this. In church services, weddings, burials, or gatherings of any kind, it is not unusual for them to last between four and six hours. Coming together, without being in a hurry, is an integral part of this community. We gather to experience life with our neighbors, family, and friends. We laugh, cry, share stories, eat, etc. It is as if to say, we do not have many material resources to give; but for the day, we are able to give of our time and of ourselves to be fully present to one another. Yesterday, I went to one of these gatherings; and unlike many of my previous experiences, I sat and was engaged in the moment--for several hours.
In 2003, a single mother of six passed away from HIV/AIDS in this community. Her name was Selina. She owned no land and had nothing materially to leave her children. At her burial, her three grown children, along with other family members, did not feel they were able to take on the burden of raising the three younger children--Jane, Shadrach and Caroline. After the ceremony ended, one by one, everyone left; leaving three children to not only grieve the loss of their mother but to have no clue what would be the future of their own lives. David Tarus, director of ELI Kenya, was at the burial. He saw this desperate situation and was moved with compassion. He told these wondering children, “let’s go home.” This reality was the beginning of his vision for a children’s home for orphans. Four years later, there are nearly 200 orphans in ELI Children’s Homes and many others within the community that are under our care. Each have a story of loss and hope interwoven together.
Yesterday, the community gathered to officially open the house of Jane, Shadrach and Caroline. Jane completed high school this past year and is employed within the kitchen at the ELI Children’s Home. Shadrach will be entering his senior year of high school. He has a dream to one day be a pilot. Caroline is entering sixth grade at ELI’s Brook of Faith Academy. We gathered to bless these children who are growing up. It was a day to remember God’s faithfulness. He did not forget to hear their cries. His love has enabled us not to forget either. Their simple home represents so much more than mud and sticks. It is evidence of a future and a hope for three children. We practiced true religion, and I believe it moved the heart of God. We cried many tears, but there was also much thanksgiving and joy within our hearts. It was the first time, since the burial of their mother, that Selina’s six children were reunited. What HIV stole from them was so great. It killed their mother, but it also caused them to scatter from one another in fear. When they needed each other the most, they had failed one another. But on this day, I witnessed a deep forgiveness begin.
Throughout the day, the words of Psalm 40 resounded in my heart: “I waited patiently for the Lord; and he inclined to me and heard my cry. He also brought me up out of a horrible pit, out of the miry clay. He set my feet upon a rock and established my steps. He put a new song in my mouth- Praise for our God.”
Evidences that this world is broken are everywhere. I thank God for the five hours I sat and was reminded that there is nothing that the compassion of Christ cannot restore.
I must confess that sitting still for long periods of time is not one of my strengths. This is unfortunate because Kenyans (at least in my village) are extremely good at doing just this. In church services, weddings, burials, or gatherings of any kind, it is not unusual for them to last between four and six hours. Coming together, without being in a hurry, is an integral part of this community. We gather to experience life with our neighbors, family, and friends. We laugh, cry, share stories, eat, etc. It is as if to say, we do not have many material resources to give; but for the day, we are able to give of our time and of ourselves to be fully present to one another. Yesterday, I went to one of these gatherings; and unlike many of my previous experiences, I sat and was engaged in the moment--for several hours.
In 2003, a single mother of six passed away from HIV/AIDS in this community. Her name was Selina. She owned no land and had nothing materially to leave her children. At her burial, her three grown children, along with other family members, did not feel they were able to take on the burden of raising the three younger children--Jane, Shadrach and Caroline. After the ceremony ended, one by one, everyone left; leaving three children to not only grieve the loss of their mother but to have no clue what would be the future of their own lives. David Tarus, director of ELI Kenya, was at the burial. He saw this desperate situation and was moved with compassion. He told these wondering children, “let’s go home.” This reality was the beginning of his vision for a children’s home for orphans. Four years later, there are nearly 200 orphans in ELI Children’s Homes and many others within the community that are under our care. Each have a story of loss and hope interwoven together.
Yesterday, the community gathered to officially open the house of Jane, Shadrach and Caroline. Jane completed high school this past year and is employed within the kitchen at the ELI Children’s Home. Shadrach will be entering his senior year of high school. He has a dream to one day be a pilot. Caroline is entering sixth grade at ELI’s Brook of Faith Academy. We gathered to bless these children who are growing up. It was a day to remember God’s faithfulness. He did not forget to hear their cries. His love has enabled us not to forget either. Their simple home represents so much more than mud and sticks. It is evidence of a future and a hope for three children. We practiced true religion, and I believe it moved the heart of God. We cried many tears, but there was also much thanksgiving and joy within our hearts. It was the first time, since the burial of their mother, that Selina’s six children were reunited. What HIV stole from them was so great. It killed their mother, but it also caused them to scatter from one another in fear. When they needed each other the most, they had failed one another. But on this day, I witnessed a deep forgiveness begin.
Throughout the day, the words of Psalm 40 resounded in my heart: “I waited patiently for the Lord; and he inclined to me and heard my cry. He also brought me up out of a horrible pit, out of the miry clay. He set my feet upon a rock and established my steps. He put a new song in my mouth- Praise for our God.”
Evidences that this world is broken are everywhere. I thank God for the five hours I sat and was reminded that there is nothing that the compassion of Christ cannot restore.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
The Gap
It wasn't even 7 am yet, but the line of people outside of my house reminded me of the gap between what is and what should be. One man introduced himself and explained he had walked several miles to meet with me. He shared of struggles in his family and his challenge to pay his children's school fees. Another told of a sick person needing treatment who was unable to afford it. The third explained that he needed advice in how to deal with some challenges. As I walked away, I began to pray. Rather than allow the burdens to overwhelm me, I asked God for His perspective. I didn't have the answers or solutions to these problems, but I knew that God was present. So, I asked Him to show me how to live this day, to love with a love that is greater than myself.
Later this morning, I arrived to the training center and began to tabulate the results from our Tumaini na Afya (Hope & Health) AIDS Awareness Campaign that was held on Saturday. It was an amazing day. A couple thousand people attended and just over 800 people learned their HIV status. Although a majority of the people who tested were men, 95% of those who tested positive were young women. This revealing, once again, not that women are more promiscuous than men but simply more vulnerable. Yesterday I visited a young 20 year old widow of two weeks named Emily whose story represents this so clearly. She married her husband only a year ago. He had worked as a truck driver along the trans-African highway. His first wife had died in 2002 leaving behind two children. Emily learned that she was HIV+ several months ago while she was pregnant. Unfortunately, she did not receive treatment and breastfed her baby. As I sat and listened to her share her story, I was deeply saddened. HIV has stolen and destroyed the lives of too many in this young family. Once more, I didn't know how to comfort this grieving lady; but I prayed to the only One who is able to restore hope to the hopeless.
Things are not as they were meant to be. I know this quite well. But I also know that God is with us. These lyrics, written by Tommy Walker, that say "Sweet Jesus come. Sweet Jesus come. Sweet Jesus come to me. Come set my spirit free so I can worship thee. I want to sense your power and love at work in me. Sweet Jesus come" have so often been my prayer. Today Jesus did come and present himself in the form of a hungry man. He came as a father who doesn't know how to provide school fees for his children. He was in the widow who feels alone and in her baby who is struggling to live. He was in the crippled man sitting outside my window repairing our children's shoes. Jesus has come right to where He said He would be. With an open invitation for us to draw near to Him, we enter the gap between what is and what should be.
Later this morning, I arrived to the training center and began to tabulate the results from our Tumaini na Afya (Hope & Health) AIDS Awareness Campaign that was held on Saturday. It was an amazing day. A couple thousand people attended and just over 800 people learned their HIV status. Although a majority of the people who tested were men, 95% of those who tested positive were young women. This revealing, once again, not that women are more promiscuous than men but simply more vulnerable. Yesterday I visited a young 20 year old widow of two weeks named Emily whose story represents this so clearly. She married her husband only a year ago. He had worked as a truck driver along the trans-African highway. His first wife had died in 2002 leaving behind two children. Emily learned that she was HIV+ several months ago while she was pregnant. Unfortunately, she did not receive treatment and breastfed her baby. As I sat and listened to her share her story, I was deeply saddened. HIV has stolen and destroyed the lives of too many in this young family. Once more, I didn't know how to comfort this grieving lady; but I prayed to the only One who is able to restore hope to the hopeless.
Things are not as they were meant to be. I know this quite well. But I also know that God is with us. These lyrics, written by Tommy Walker, that say "Sweet Jesus come. Sweet Jesus come. Sweet Jesus come to me. Come set my spirit free so I can worship thee. I want to sense your power and love at work in me. Sweet Jesus come" have so often been my prayer. Today Jesus did come and present himself in the form of a hungry man. He came as a father who doesn't know how to provide school fees for his children. He was in the widow who feels alone and in her baby who is struggling to live. He was in the crippled man sitting outside my window repairing our children's shoes. Jesus has come right to where He said He would be. With an open invitation for us to draw near to Him, we enter the gap between what is and what should be.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
My Friend
I went this afternoon to sit with my friend named Hannah. She is 51 years old. She is married and has nine children. By the standards of the world, Hannah is poor. Over the past four years, a tumor has overtaken her face and parts of her brain leaving her body wasted and her face greatly disfigured. Her situation is full of loss and intense suffering. But this is not the whole story.
As I walked into her mud hut, I heard her voice saying: “Mtoto wangu, karibu sana.” meaning “My child, welcome so much”. I sat at Hannah’s bedside and saw how, even in the past five days, the tumor had grown noticeably larger around her eye and further into her mouth. Her speech was slurred but her spirit was full of life. She talked about how God continues to take care of her and then she waved her arms as she sang “Mungu yu mwema”- God is so good. She praised her daughters for the ongoing care they are providing to her as she is bedridden and dependent upon them 24 hours a day, seven days a week. It is hard for me to imagine talking about God’s goodness when faced with such pain; and yet her words are not a cliché, they are her hope.
I went to encourage Hannah; but I also went because she has something I long for. Hannah is beautiful. If you saw a picture of her, it would be impossible to see it; but there is a beauty that transcends and overshadows her appearance. Hannah knows the love of God, and it has cast out her fears. She is living in freedom and nothing in this world can take it away- not even death.
More than once, I have been humbled by the sweetness of God’s presence that rests upon this home. It causes me to be still and reminds me that God has not changed. Although questions remain unanswered, His faithfulness and love are not lessened by these struggles. In multiple languages, Hannah’s family and I have recited Psalm 23 together bringing life to these often quoted verses:
The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul.
He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.
This afternoon, God used Hannah to speak His word to me. As I shared within my last update, I have recently been discouraged and overwhelmed by the challenges that surround. The weight feels so heavy; but this dear mama, on her deathbed, looked into my eyes and saw the burdens that I have been carrying. She said, “Juli, uko na wasi wasi. Usiwe na wasi wasi. Mungu anakulinda;” which means “Juli, you have worries- don’t worry. God is taking care of you”. As she spoke truth into my life, I grabbed her feeble hand, leaned forward and listened.
I pray that Hannah’s testimony will be an encouragement to you this day. I ask that as Hannah and her family come to your mind, please pray on their behalf.
As I walked into her mud hut, I heard her voice saying: “Mtoto wangu, karibu sana.” meaning “My child, welcome so much”. I sat at Hannah’s bedside and saw how, even in the past five days, the tumor had grown noticeably larger around her eye and further into her mouth. Her speech was slurred but her spirit was full of life. She talked about how God continues to take care of her and then she waved her arms as she sang “Mungu yu mwema”- God is so good. She praised her daughters for the ongoing care they are providing to her as she is bedridden and dependent upon them 24 hours a day, seven days a week. It is hard for me to imagine talking about God’s goodness when faced with such pain; and yet her words are not a cliché, they are her hope.
I went to encourage Hannah; but I also went because she has something I long for. Hannah is beautiful. If you saw a picture of her, it would be impossible to see it; but there is a beauty that transcends and overshadows her appearance. Hannah knows the love of God, and it has cast out her fears. She is living in freedom and nothing in this world can take it away- not even death.
More than once, I have been humbled by the sweetness of God’s presence that rests upon this home. It causes me to be still and reminds me that God has not changed. Although questions remain unanswered, His faithfulness and love are not lessened by these struggles. In multiple languages, Hannah’s family and I have recited Psalm 23 together bringing life to these often quoted verses:
The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul.
He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.
This afternoon, God used Hannah to speak His word to me. As I shared within my last update, I have recently been discouraged and overwhelmed by the challenges that surround. The weight feels so heavy; but this dear mama, on her deathbed, looked into my eyes and saw the burdens that I have been carrying. She said, “Juli, uko na wasi wasi. Usiwe na wasi wasi. Mungu anakulinda;” which means “Juli, you have worries- don’t worry. God is taking care of you”. As she spoke truth into my life, I grabbed her feeble hand, leaned forward and listened.
I pray that Hannah’s testimony will be an encouragement to you this day. I ask that as Hannah and her family come to your mind, please pray on their behalf.
Friday, October 05, 2007
A Few Stories
In Kipkaren, we so often say that we wake up with a plan for the day, but we must leave space for God to interrupt our plans. Today was no exception. Let me share my story...
This afternoon, a nurse called from our local clinic saying that there was a sick lady who needed to be rushed to a hospital about an hour's drive away. Allison, my dearest friend, and I jumped into the car and picked up a 23 year old lady named Karen who was 7 months pregnant and having serious complications. Just having finished rainy season, our dirt road is, to say the least, not ideal for a lady in labour. After driving a few kilometers, Karen said that she felt to push. Allison looked at me and asked me what we should do. I replied that we should go to the nearest home of one of our traditional birth attendants named Mama Presca (TBAs are midwives from our community who ELI partners with to train them in safe delivery practices). I hoped to at least get a birthing kit with supplies to assist in delivering this baby; unfortunately, Mama Presca was not at home. I looked behind me to see Karen squatting behind a bush, on the side of the road, delivering a little girl. When I reached her, the baby was on the ground. I was shouting to Allison, "I need gloves. Allison, I need gloves". She ran to the car to get my bag, and then I put on my gloves and picked up this tiny baby as she began to cry. Then we needed something to cut the umbilical cord. So once again, Allison ran with all of her might (you should know that Allison hates to run) down the road to a local shop to try and find a sterile razor blade. Though she did not have any money with her, the local shop owner had sympathy on her as he realized she was in an emergency and out of breath. Upon reaching me, she saw that I had been innovative and used a glove to try and tie the cord. After a lot of effort, especially on Allison's part, we finished the delivery process. I will spare you many other details. We did manage to gather a small crowd in the meantime. Surely, and I mean this sincerely, God was with us. After about 10 minutes, we climbed back in the car and went the rest of the way to the hospital. The mom and baby have been admitted to the hospital but are stable. Our beautiful little girl weighs 1lb 8oz. Please be praying for her health and growth and peace for her mother.
Before all of this drama, I had intended to send this update on Hannah. I visited with Hannah’s family earlier this week and once again was blessed by her grace and invited by her warmth to sit beside her. As I did, I experienced the truth that God dwells in the praises of His people. In spite of the tumor that continues to grow in her face, Hannah’s hope remains in God. She expressed her gratitude to all who are praying for her and for her family. She declared that God continues to take care of her. I listened to her confidence as she sang the words Mungu anaweza, God is able. And I felt God’s peace, which surpasses all understanding, ruling Hannah’s heart and mind. Hannah’s husband, in the midst of the challenges, has also put his trust in God. He visited with us outside and sang this hymn about the love of God:
Hark, my soul! It is the Lord;
‘Tis thy Savior, hear his word.
Jesus speaks, and speaks to thee.
Says, poor sinner, lovest thou Me?
I delivered thee when bound,
And when bleeding, healed thy wound;
Sought thee wandering, set thee right,
Turned thy darkness into light.
Mine is an unchanging love,
Higher than the heights above;
Deeper than the depths beneath.
Free and faithful, strong as death.
Thou shalt see My glory soon,
When the work of grace is done.
Partner of my throne shalt be.
Say, poor sinner, lovest thou Me?
Lord! It is my chief complaint,
That my love is weak and faint.
Yet I love thee, and adore;
Oh, for grace to love Thee more.
I do desire to grow in this love that knows no limits. For now, I only know in part; but I praise God for the privilege to learn from this journey I am walking with Hannah. Her life demonstrates the promise that nothing can separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus.
This afternoon, a nurse called from our local clinic saying that there was a sick lady who needed to be rushed to a hospital about an hour's drive away. Allison, my dearest friend, and I jumped into the car and picked up a 23 year old lady named Karen who was 7 months pregnant and having serious complications. Just having finished rainy season, our dirt road is, to say the least, not ideal for a lady in labour. After driving a few kilometers, Karen said that she felt to push. Allison looked at me and asked me what we should do. I replied that we should go to the nearest home of one of our traditional birth attendants named Mama Presca (TBAs are midwives from our community who ELI partners with to train them in safe delivery practices). I hoped to at least get a birthing kit with supplies to assist in delivering this baby; unfortunately, Mama Presca was not at home. I looked behind me to see Karen squatting behind a bush, on the side of the road, delivering a little girl. When I reached her, the baby was on the ground. I was shouting to Allison, "I need gloves. Allison, I need gloves". She ran to the car to get my bag, and then I put on my gloves and picked up this tiny baby as she began to cry. Then we needed something to cut the umbilical cord. So once again, Allison ran with all of her might (you should know that Allison hates to run) down the road to a local shop to try and find a sterile razor blade. Though she did not have any money with her, the local shop owner had sympathy on her as he realized she was in an emergency and out of breath. Upon reaching me, she saw that I had been innovative and used a glove to try and tie the cord. After a lot of effort, especially on Allison's part, we finished the delivery process. I will spare you many other details. We did manage to gather a small crowd in the meantime. Surely, and I mean this sincerely, God was with us. After about 10 minutes, we climbed back in the car and went the rest of the way to the hospital. The mom and baby have been admitted to the hospital but are stable. Our beautiful little girl weighs 1lb 8oz. Please be praying for her health and growth and peace for her mother.
Before all of this drama, I had intended to send this update on Hannah. I visited with Hannah’s family earlier this week and once again was blessed by her grace and invited by her warmth to sit beside her. As I did, I experienced the truth that God dwells in the praises of His people. In spite of the tumor that continues to grow in her face, Hannah’s hope remains in God. She expressed her gratitude to all who are praying for her and for her family. She declared that God continues to take care of her. I listened to her confidence as she sang the words Mungu anaweza, God is able. And I felt God’s peace, which surpasses all understanding, ruling Hannah’s heart and mind. Hannah’s husband, in the midst of the challenges, has also put his trust in God. He visited with us outside and sang this hymn about the love of God:
Hark, my soul! It is the Lord;
‘Tis thy Savior, hear his word.
Jesus speaks, and speaks to thee.
Says, poor sinner, lovest thou Me?
I delivered thee when bound,
And when bleeding, healed thy wound;
Sought thee wandering, set thee right,
Turned thy darkness into light.
Mine is an unchanging love,
Higher than the heights above;
Deeper than the depths beneath.
Free and faithful, strong as death.
Thou shalt see My glory soon,
When the work of grace is done.
Partner of my throne shalt be.
Say, poor sinner, lovest thou Me?
Lord! It is my chief complaint,
That my love is weak and faint.
Yet I love thee, and adore;
Oh, for grace to love Thee more.
I do desire to grow in this love that knows no limits. For now, I only know in part; but I praise God for the privilege to learn from this journey I am walking with Hannah. Her life demonstrates the promise that nothing can separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Daudi
Like it was yesterday, I remember the night Daudi was born. It was raining, and I had been called to assist a young mama named Eunice to deliver her baby. I was a young nursing student being initiated into the realities that so many women
and children face throughout the world. As I stooped down to enter into the mud hut, I was struck by the vision of Eunice laboring on the floor with her other three children sleeping in a row beside her.There was nothing sterile about the environment. A single candle lit the room. Chickens were resting in the corner. Several hours went by as Eunice silently endured the labor. There was no medication to ease her pain. There was no nearby clinic to rush to in case of any complications. In so many respects, Eunice was on her own.
With much anticipation, we waited for Daudi’s arrival, but when I caught his little body, he was limp and lifeless. As I suctioned his mouth, I heard someone behind me ask if he was dead and another praying, “Jesus, breathe life.” After what felt like eternity, Daudi gasped for air and began to cry. I do not understand or know how to
explain all that happened thatnight in that little hut, but I believe that Jesus did breathe life.
Seven years have flown by since that night. Kipkaren has become my home, and Daudi is my neighbor. I have watched this little boy grow. He is now in the first grade and is a bit mischievous. He has a bright smile and is full of life. He has a sweet little sister named Jepmutai that I delivered two years ago. The other day I was walking and saw Daudi tending his family’s cows, and I wondered about his life, the challenges he faces, the ways he views his world. My experience in and with Africa has been the span of his life. And I considered what has developed and what has remained constant within this village over the past seven years. Unlike the night he was born, there is now a clinic that provides quality preventative and curative healthcare to this community. The rates of malaria infection have decreased. Several hundred traditional birth attendants have been trained in safe delivery methods for the mother and child. People have a greater awareness of HIV, and testing and treatment is accessible. Free public education has been made available throughout Kenya; and although overcrowding is a serious issue,
children like Daudi now have the opportunity to attend school. Trainings have been offered to Daudi’s family in the areas of sustainable agriculture. Eunice, Daudi’s mom, is a member of our adult education class and is learning to read and write. And his father, Franco, was part of the construction team that built the children’s home and Brook of Faith Academy. Sunday school has created an environment for Daudi, and so many other children, to learn about the love of Christ. Unfortunately, challenges still remain as poverty and disease continue in this land. For most of Daudi’s neighbors, living hand-to mouth eliminates the choices we as Westerners value. Basics such as drinking clean and safe water or eating more than one meal a day are a luxury. Lack of employment opportunities continues to leave many idle and feeling hopeless, which, in turn, leads to engaging in risky and destructive behavior. And the cycle continues….
Amidst victories and ongoing obstacles, I thank God for the opportunity to be here. In a sense, watching Daudi grow has allowed me to see the faithfulness of God. His life is a reminder to me that God is able even in hopeless situations, and that I exist for something greater than myself. The ways I choose to love or not to love matter in the Kingdom. And because of this, I want to grow in compassion. Thank you for your role in
God’s work in this community. I pray that mercy, peace, and love be multiplied to you.
and children face throughout the world. As I stooped down to enter into the mud hut, I was struck by the vision of Eunice laboring on the floor with her other three children sleeping in a row beside her.There was nothing sterile about the environment. A single candle lit the room. Chickens were resting in the corner. Several hours went by as Eunice silently endured the labor. There was no medication to ease her pain. There was no nearby clinic to rush to in case of any complications. In so many respects, Eunice was on her own.
With much anticipation, we waited for Daudi’s arrival, but when I caught his little body, he was limp and lifeless. As I suctioned his mouth, I heard someone behind me ask if he was dead and another praying, “Jesus, breathe life.” After what felt like eternity, Daudi gasped for air and began to cry. I do not understand or know how to
explain all that happened thatnight in that little hut, but I believe that Jesus did breathe life.
Seven years have flown by since that night. Kipkaren has become my home, and Daudi is my neighbor. I have watched this little boy grow. He is now in the first grade and is a bit mischievous. He has a bright smile and is full of life. He has a sweet little sister named Jepmutai that I delivered two years ago. The other day I was walking and saw Daudi tending his family’s cows, and I wondered about his life, the challenges he faces, the ways he views his world. My experience in and with Africa has been the span of his life. And I considered what has developed and what has remained constant within this village over the past seven years. Unlike the night he was born, there is now a clinic that provides quality preventative and curative healthcare to this community. The rates of malaria infection have decreased. Several hundred traditional birth attendants have been trained in safe delivery methods for the mother and child. People have a greater awareness of HIV, and testing and treatment is accessible. Free public education has been made available throughout Kenya; and although overcrowding is a serious issue,
children like Daudi now have the opportunity to attend school. Trainings have been offered to Daudi’s family in the areas of sustainable agriculture. Eunice, Daudi’s mom, is a member of our adult education class and is learning to read and write. And his father, Franco, was part of the construction team that built the children’s home and Brook of Faith Academy. Sunday school has created an environment for Daudi, and so many other children, to learn about the love of Christ. Unfortunately, challenges still remain as poverty and disease continue in this land. For most of Daudi’s neighbors, living hand-to mouth eliminates the choices we as Westerners value. Basics such as drinking clean and safe water or eating more than one meal a day are a luxury. Lack of employment opportunities continues to leave many idle and feeling hopeless, which, in turn, leads to engaging in risky and destructive behavior. And the cycle continues….
Amidst victories and ongoing obstacles, I thank God for the opportunity to be here. In a sense, watching Daudi grow has allowed me to see the faithfulness of God. His life is a reminder to me that God is able even in hopeless situations, and that I exist for something greater than myself. The ways I choose to love or not to love matter in the Kingdom. And because of this, I want to grow in compassion. Thank you for your role in
God’s work in this community. I pray that mercy, peace, and love be multiplied to you.
A story of a friend.
I went this afternoon to sit with my friend named Hannah. She is 51 years old. She is married and has nine children. By the standards of the world, Hannah is poor. Over the past four years, a tumor has overtaken her face and parts of her brain leaving her body wasted and her face greatly disfigured. Her situation is full of loss and intense suffering. But this is not the whole story.
As I walked into her mud hut, I heard her voice saying: “Mtoto wangu, karibu sana.” meaning “My child, welcome so much”. I sat at Hannah’s bedside and saw how, even in the past five days, the tumor had grown noticeably larger around her eye and further into her mouth. Her speech was slurred but her spirit was full of life. She talked about how God continues to take care of her and then she waved her arms as she sang “Mungu yu mwema”- God is so good. She praised her daughters for the ongoing care they are providing to her as she is bedridden and dependent upon them 24 hours a day, seven days a week. It is hard for me to imagine talking about God’s goodness when faced with such pain; and yet her words are not a cliché, they are her hope.
I went to encourage Hannah; but I also went because she has something I long for. Hannah is beautiful. If you saw a picture of her, it would be impossible to see it; but there is a beauty that transcends and overshadows her appearance. Hannah knows the love of God, and it has cast out her fears. She is living in freedom and nothing in this world can take it away- not even death.
More than once, I have been humbled by the sweetness of God’s presence that rests upon this home. It causes me to be still and reminds me that God has not changed. Although questions remain unanswered, His faithfulness and love are not lessened by these struggles. In multiple languages, Hannah’s family and I have recited Psalm 23 together bringing life to these often quoted verses:
The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.
This afternoon, God used Hannah to speak His word to me. As I shared within my last update, I have recently been discouraged and overwhelmed by the challenges that surround. The weight feels so heavy; but this dear mama, on her deathbed, looked into my eyes and saw the burdens that I have been carrying. She said, “Juli, uko na wasi wasi. Usiwe na wasi wasi. Mungu anakulinda;” which means “Juli, you have worries- don’t worry. God is taking care of you”. As she spoke truth into my life, I grabbed her feeble hand, leaned forward and listened.
I pray that Hannah’s testimony will be an encouragement to you this day. I ask that as Hannah and her family come to your mind, please pray on their behalf. With much love, Juli
As I walked into her mud hut, I heard her voice saying: “Mtoto wangu, karibu sana.” meaning “My child, welcome so much”. I sat at Hannah’s bedside and saw how, even in the past five days, the tumor had grown noticeably larger around her eye and further into her mouth. Her speech was slurred but her spirit was full of life. She talked about how God continues to take care of her and then she waved her arms as she sang “Mungu yu mwema”- God is so good. She praised her daughters for the ongoing care they are providing to her as she is bedridden and dependent upon them 24 hours a day, seven days a week. It is hard for me to imagine talking about God’s goodness when faced with such pain; and yet her words are not a cliché, they are her hope.
I went to encourage Hannah; but I also went because she has something I long for. Hannah is beautiful. If you saw a picture of her, it would be impossible to see it; but there is a beauty that transcends and overshadows her appearance. Hannah knows the love of God, and it has cast out her fears. She is living in freedom and nothing in this world can take it away- not even death.
More than once, I have been humbled by the sweetness of God’s presence that rests upon this home. It causes me to be still and reminds me that God has not changed. Although questions remain unanswered, His faithfulness and love are not lessened by these struggles. In multiple languages, Hannah’s family and I have recited Psalm 23 together bringing life to these often quoted verses:
The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.
This afternoon, God used Hannah to speak His word to me. As I shared within my last update, I have recently been discouraged and overwhelmed by the challenges that surround. The weight feels so heavy; but this dear mama, on her deathbed, looked into my eyes and saw the burdens that I have been carrying. She said, “Juli, uko na wasi wasi. Usiwe na wasi wasi. Mungu anakulinda;” which means “Juli, you have worries- don’t worry. God is taking care of you”. As she spoke truth into my life, I grabbed her feeble hand, leaned forward and listened.
I pray that Hannah’s testimony will be an encouragement to you this day. I ask that as Hannah and her family come to your mind, please pray on their behalf. With much love, Juli
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Hope.
This past week, within ELI’s sphere of influence, three young families have been affected by death and 13 more orphans are on our minds and hearts. Questions about what is the best response for these families and children have no clear answers. I am challenged—what is true religion and what does it mean to love in action? With this in mind, I traveled 25 miles to a small village Saturday morning, July 7th, with ELI’s Tumaini na Afya team for an HIV/AIDS Awareness Campaign. It was a cold, rainy day, but God was with us.
The day included a soccer tournament, volleyball tournament, 10 km running race, 40 km bicycle race through the mud, and tug of war amongst other activities. The Salvation Army Band marched and captured the attention of 1,500 plus people who attended the campaign. The purpose of the day was to get the eminent message about HIV to the people—there is hope for people living with HIV/AIDS. In a land where everyone is all too familiar with the effects of HIV/AIDS, fear continues to plague the situation enabling the virus to steal, kill and destroy life. One tool we have to fight this virus is HIV counseling and testing. The test requires a small prick of a person’s finger and five minutes of his/her time. I might add that they are the longest five minutes imaginable as one waits to see whether one line appears on the test, which means he/she is HIV negative or two lines, HIV positive. However, motivating people to be tested is critical in this fight. It does not change whether or not a person has the virus, but it does change what he/she can do in response to it. On Saturday, the village of Kipsangui was challenged to face their fears, and 617 individuals responded and learned their HIV status. For those who tested negative, they do not have to live in fear and were counseled to make choices that will protect themselves and their families. For those who tested positive, they were referred to a free clinic where life-prolonging, quality treatment is available. There is social support to restore and maintain their dignity; and these people, by the grace of God, can live to see their children grow up. For there is no children’s home or community based orphan care program that can replace what is lost when parents die. I was reminded of that 13 times this past week.
In the midst of fighting what feels like an uphill battle, there is hope. As a ministry team, we find courage in knowing that our God is bigger than HIV/AIDS. I thank you, on behalf of the 617 people who now know their HIV status, for your ongoing financial support and prayers. As I follow God’s lead, I know that each individual is worth fighting for.
The day included a soccer tournament, volleyball tournament, 10 km running race, 40 km bicycle race through the mud, and tug of war amongst other activities. The Salvation Army Band marched and captured the attention of 1,500 plus people who attended the campaign. The purpose of the day was to get the eminent message about HIV to the people—there is hope for people living with HIV/AIDS. In a land where everyone is all too familiar with the effects of HIV/AIDS, fear continues to plague the situation enabling the virus to steal, kill and destroy life. One tool we have to fight this virus is HIV counseling and testing. The test requires a small prick of a person’s finger and five minutes of his/her time. I might add that they are the longest five minutes imaginable as one waits to see whether one line appears on the test, which means he/she is HIV negative or two lines, HIV positive. However, motivating people to be tested is critical in this fight. It does not change whether or not a person has the virus, but it does change what he/she can do in response to it. On Saturday, the village of Kipsangui was challenged to face their fears, and 617 individuals responded and learned their HIV status. For those who tested negative, they do not have to live in fear and were counseled to make choices that will protect themselves and their families. For those who tested positive, they were referred to a free clinic where life-prolonging, quality treatment is available. There is social support to restore and maintain their dignity; and these people, by the grace of God, can live to see their children grow up. For there is no children’s home or community based orphan care program that can replace what is lost when parents die. I was reminded of that 13 times this past week.
In the midst of fighting what feels like an uphill battle, there is hope. As a ministry team, we find courage in knowing that our God is bigger than HIV/AIDS. I thank you, on behalf of the 617 people who now know their HIV status, for your ongoing financial support and prayers. As I follow God’s lead, I know that each individual is worth fighting for.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
A Child's Appeal
There are countless vulnerable children that fill this community. They understand what it is to be hungry. They are, all too often, sick from preventable diseases. They know death and loss as so many have watched their own parents die. It is easy to see and say that their life is not fair; and yet, this does not answer their questions. They were made for more than mere existence and somehow they know it. They are little dreamers who desire to learn, to laugh and play, to love and be loved.
Ezekiel Moiben, a parent of 24 children at the ELI Children’s Home in Kipkaren, wrote a poignant piece as the voice of a child and entitled it “A Child’s Appeal”.
I am a child. All the world awaits my coming.
All the world watches with interest-
to see what I shall become.
The future of the world hangs in the balance.
What I become, the future of tomorrow will be.
I am a child. I have come into the world,
about which I know nothing.
Why I came, I do not know.
How I came, I do not know.
I want to know. I am curious. I am interested.
I am a child. You hold my destiny in your hands.
You determine largely whether I shall succeed or fail.
Give me, I pray, these things that make for happiness.
Train me, I beg you, that I may be a blessing to the world.
When I read this, I can hear the voices of individual children who must be heard. I want to share the stories of two whose appeal has led to action in the form compassion.
The story continues. This evening, I sat with an eight-year-old girl named Iveen and her new “mom” as she took her first dose of anti-retrovirals, the medications given to fight the HIV virus. Much has happened in this child’s life in the last three weeks. She has lost her mother. She has moved to a new home and is living with a new family. And she has been diagnosed with HIV and has now begun treatment for AIDS.
In my last update, I told the story of Iveen’s mother Monica. She had passed away upon reaching the HIV/AIDS clinic, and our Home-Based Care team had transported her lifeless body to her home for burial. Iveen, her grandmother and her brother Kelvin (11), are experiencing what this virus has done to too many families. It has taken the strong and left the vulnerable. The children and the elderly are what remain. There is also the harsh reality that Iveen’s family lost its only source of income for food and survival.
On that first day, we crowded in their mud hut. It was hot, and we were all overwhelmed by the situation. I was asked to pray and found myself at loss for words. As we left the family and drove back down the dirt path, silence remained until Maru, a member of Tumaini na Afya (Hope & Health) said: “They have nothing. This is not OK.” Moved with compassion, he explained that he wanted to assist Monica’s children. At the moment, I do not think any of us knew what that meant; but after talking to Maru’s wife and meeting with Monica’s family at her burial, the Maru family decided to bring Iveen and Kelvin to Kipkaren to live with them.
Iveen and Kelvin—in the midst of tremendous loss—have been welcomed with love by Maru and his wife, Mama Jesang. The children have begun to attend Brook of Faith Academy, and Iveen is getting quality treatment at the nearby HIV/AIDS clinic. The children’s grandmother came to visit yesterday and expressed her sincere gratefulness. There are many things I will never understand upon this earth; but one thing is clear: God does not forget the humble. Her appeal was heard.
Appearances. Appearance can be misleading. For example, my friend Mama Daniel lives in a body that is only three feet tall. She has lived her life ridiculed and abused. She defines herself by her stature—and so does her community—even though any physical limitations she might have, are compensated for by her determination, creativity and incredible work ethics. She takes great care of her two sons, Daniel and Darius.
I met Mama Daniel and her five-year-old son—who also shares his mother’s short stature—at ELI’s clinic in Kipkaren. Daniel had just learned to walk and was experiencing severe pain in his back because his vertebrae did not have adequate space to grow in proper alignment. After consulting with several physicians, Daniel was referred to an orthopedic surgeon in Nairobi and taken for surgery. Because Mama Daniel was unable to afford this important but expensive surgery, we helped to support this family with the operation. Daniel recently returned home with a cast remaining over much of his torso; and like any little boy, he is ready for it to be removed. But his pain has reduced and his smile has returned.
On Sunday morning, Mama Daniel walked miles to come to our church. She stood and testified that she had come to church because she needed to thank God for what He has done for her child. She said that this was the first time she has been to church. She thought church was only for tall people.
She continued to explain that she used to take her son to various clinics to try and get help, but she left in tears every time . . . until she came to Kipkaren. She thanked God for standing with her. Then she led a song to praise Him. It was incredible. I was so moved. By us choosing to love her son, she felt accepted, perhaps for the first time.
There have been moments when I have sat with this mother and child and have been moved with compassion. It seems I have been given a glimpse of how God sees them, and they are deeply loved and accepted. Mama Daniel is truly a remarkable woman, and I pray that she will begin to see this truth. There is nothing about her nor about Daniel that is an accident. I thank God for the clarity to see beyond mere appearances into the greater reality of His Kingdom.
Thank you for your prayers and for your support. May God grant us the ears to hear, as there are many more appeals to be heard, and may He grant us hearts to respond with wisdom and compassion.
Ezekiel Moiben, a parent of 24 children at the ELI Children’s Home in Kipkaren, wrote a poignant piece as the voice of a child and entitled it “A Child’s Appeal”.
I am a child. All the world awaits my coming.
All the world watches with interest-
to see what I shall become.
The future of the world hangs in the balance.
What I become, the future of tomorrow will be.
I am a child. I have come into the world,
about which I know nothing.
Why I came, I do not know.
How I came, I do not know.
I want to know. I am curious. I am interested.
I am a child. You hold my destiny in your hands.
You determine largely whether I shall succeed or fail.
Give me, I pray, these things that make for happiness.
Train me, I beg you, that I may be a blessing to the world.
When I read this, I can hear the voices of individual children who must be heard. I want to share the stories of two whose appeal has led to action in the form compassion.
The story continues. This evening, I sat with an eight-year-old girl named Iveen and her new “mom” as she took her first dose of anti-retrovirals, the medications given to fight the HIV virus. Much has happened in this child’s life in the last three weeks. She has lost her mother. She has moved to a new home and is living with a new family. And she has been diagnosed with HIV and has now begun treatment for AIDS.
In my last update, I told the story of Iveen’s mother Monica. She had passed away upon reaching the HIV/AIDS clinic, and our Home-Based Care team had transported her lifeless body to her home for burial. Iveen, her grandmother and her brother Kelvin (11), are experiencing what this virus has done to too many families. It has taken the strong and left the vulnerable. The children and the elderly are what remain. There is also the harsh reality that Iveen’s family lost its only source of income for food and survival.
On that first day, we crowded in their mud hut. It was hot, and we were all overwhelmed by the situation. I was asked to pray and found myself at loss for words. As we left the family and drove back down the dirt path, silence remained until Maru, a member of Tumaini na Afya (Hope & Health) said: “They have nothing. This is not OK.” Moved with compassion, he explained that he wanted to assist Monica’s children. At the moment, I do not think any of us knew what that meant; but after talking to Maru’s wife and meeting with Monica’s family at her burial, the Maru family decided to bring Iveen and Kelvin to Kipkaren to live with them.
Iveen and Kelvin—in the midst of tremendous loss—have been welcomed with love by Maru and his wife, Mama Jesang. The children have begun to attend Brook of Faith Academy, and Iveen is getting quality treatment at the nearby HIV/AIDS clinic. The children’s grandmother came to visit yesterday and expressed her sincere gratefulness. There are many things I will never understand upon this earth; but one thing is clear: God does not forget the humble. Her appeal was heard.
Appearances. Appearance can be misleading. For example, my friend Mama Daniel lives in a body that is only three feet tall. She has lived her life ridiculed and abused. She defines herself by her stature—and so does her community—even though any physical limitations she might have, are compensated for by her determination, creativity and incredible work ethics. She takes great care of her two sons, Daniel and Darius.
I met Mama Daniel and her five-year-old son—who also shares his mother’s short stature—at ELI’s clinic in Kipkaren. Daniel had just learned to walk and was experiencing severe pain in his back because his vertebrae did not have adequate space to grow in proper alignment. After consulting with several physicians, Daniel was referred to an orthopedic surgeon in Nairobi and taken for surgery. Because Mama Daniel was unable to afford this important but expensive surgery, we helped to support this family with the operation. Daniel recently returned home with a cast remaining over much of his torso; and like any little boy, he is ready for it to be removed. But his pain has reduced and his smile has returned.
On Sunday morning, Mama Daniel walked miles to come to our church. She stood and testified that she had come to church because she needed to thank God for what He has done for her child. She said that this was the first time she has been to church. She thought church was only for tall people.
She continued to explain that she used to take her son to various clinics to try and get help, but she left in tears every time . . . until she came to Kipkaren. She thanked God for standing with her. Then she led a song to praise Him. It was incredible. I was so moved. By us choosing to love her son, she felt accepted, perhaps for the first time.
There have been moments when I have sat with this mother and child and have been moved with compassion. It seems I have been given a glimpse of how God sees them, and they are deeply loved and accepted. Mama Daniel is truly a remarkable woman, and I pray that she will begin to see this truth. There is nothing about her nor about Daniel that is an accident. I thank God for the clarity to see beyond mere appearances into the greater reality of His Kingdom.
Thank you for your prayers and for your support. May God grant us the ears to hear, as there are many more appeals to be heard, and may He grant us hearts to respond with wisdom and compassion.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
What are your fears related to HIV?
What are your fears related to HIV? This is the question asked to open a three-day training on what it means to be a caregiver. After an hour of people sharing their responses, the room grows quiet. The realities of HIV, the fears surrounding it are realized.
Then a second question is posed: Is there hope? Once again, silence fills the room. It is a sobering moment; but I have seen it again and again, with fears identified, they lose their power. Space for hope to rise is given. Now, we can begin the training.
This week, 23 trainees have traveled from their homes, from various churches in surrounding villages. These individuals may not know the horrifying statistic that says 25 million people, in Sub-Saharan Africa, are infected with the virus that causes AIDS. But they know their neighbor who keeps being diagnosed with malaria but never recovers. They have attended the burial of their brother and then their sister -in –law. They now have four more children to feed. To these, HIV is not a statistic. It is a nightmare.
Over the past two and a half years, ELI’s Tumaini na Afya (Hope & Health), have trained nearly 300 people the art of caregiving by increasing their knowledge surrounding HIV, proper nutrition, the importance of HIV testing, how to connect the sick with testing and then treatment. For all who are willing, the opportunity for them to learn their HIV status is provided. The last day of the course has been termed “Loving Day” provides the trainees practical experience. They go with members of our team to visit clients within our community. They go to encourage, to assist. They practice what they have learned with the goal that they will take this to their communities.
As I was teaching this morning, I was convinced again: there is hope. There is hope, because there is a God who has not, who cannot, forget his children. As members of the Church of Jesus Christ, we are called to be His hands, His feet. The need is great. The opportunities are limitless.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Home.
Yesterday, I returned to the village I call home. The brilliant colors of green that filled the land were more than a beautiful sight. It indicated that rain has come, that prayers have been answered. Corn, the staple food of this community, was growing in the fields. As I turned the corner leading to my house, I saw the line of a couple hundred people waiting to receive me. Both children and adults waved with both hands and greeted me with the biggest smiles as I pulled up on the unpaved road. For a few moments, all work ceased. School classes were even interrupted so the children could welcome me home. I must confess, as often as I have participated in “welcome ceremonies,” they continue to amaze me.
Through the generous hospitality extended to me, I was yet again reminded of the beauty of living in community. Kipchumba was at the front of the line with flowers for me. His bright eyes reminded me of Timon, his father whom I miss so dearly, but they also told me that God surely is a Father to the fatherless. The 96 children I welcomed this past year to the ELI Children’s Home as orphans were now welcoming me. Betty, one of my beloved patients and friends, wiped tears from her eyes. It tenderly reminded me of the love of Christ. My heart was full, and I was grateful.
In the evening, a party was hosted with forty of my neighbors and friends. We shared stories and ate together. The night was simple. It was filled with joy. They welcomed me back home as one of their own.
Love in action. In Kipkaren, we often say that we wake up with a plan for the day, but we must leave space for God to interrupt our plans. This morning I traveled to a neighboring town to attend the opening ceremony of an income-generating project for people living with HIV/AIDS. On my way, I stopped by the nearby AIDS clinic and learned of a young woman named Monica who was HIV+.
Monica’s story quickly threw me back into the harsh reality of what it looks like to be poor and to live with AIDS. The 31-year-old mother of two was under treatment for tuberculosis and had woken up critically ill. Without access to a car, or means to take a cab, she was forced to travel on the back of an open truck and then walk to reach the clinic. Her mother supported her weak body, but by the time they arrived at the clinic, Monica was gasping for air. She passed away before she could be treated.
If this were not traumatic enough, Monica’s mother had no way to transport her daughter’s body home to be buried.
As I stood in the examination room with this grieving mother, these words ran through my head: “If any of you has possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in you? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but in action and in truth” (1 John 3:16-18). I chose to listen to the Voice that was calling me to love.
With the help of several of my Kenyan friends, we bought a blanket and a mattress and carried Monica’s lifeless body to our car. We drove her home to be buried. We grieved with a family over the loss of their daughter, their sister, and—for two precious children—the loss of their mother. Once again, I was struck today by the cruelty of HIV/AIDS. It seeks only to steal, kill, and destroy life—and not from the infected alone. But I was also reminded of an even greater truth: God is love. He has entrusted us, His children, to extend Him, through compassion, to the oppressed and broken-hearted. This alone is the hope for this broken world.
Kipchumba. As I mentioned above and have written before, Kipchumba is a young boy whose father passed away earlier this year. He is in the fourth grade and attends ELI’s Brook of Faith Academy in Kipkaren. I wanted to give you a brief update on this beloved little boy…
Each month, the students take an exam covering all of their subjects. They are then ranked according to their performance. Upon my arrival, the principal proudly reported that Kipchumba was number one out of the thirty students in his class. He also said that he has
begun to talk more with students and teachers as well as participate in other activities. One of his exams included writing an essay about his parents. I was, to say the least, very humbled when I read his paper in which he talked about me. I had no idea how this young boy viewed me as a parent. This is a portion of what he wrote:
My parent is Juli. When there was no school fees, she paid for me. She loves me so much! She can’t forget me. When my father was sick, she was coming to see him. When my father got lost, she took me as her boy. When we did exams, she came to school to see my performance. She always comes in the evening to see if I am continuing well. I thank God for giving me a good parent.
Like Kipchumba, I thank God for the ways He is working in this child’s life and for the role He is allowing me to play. Thank you for your continued prayers for Kipchumba.
Kipchumba. As I mentioned above and have written before, Kipchumba is a young boy whose father passed away earlier this year. He is in the fourth grade and attends ELI’s Brook of Faith Academy in Kipkaren. I wanted to give you a brief update on this beloved little boy…
Each month, the students take an exam covering all of their subjects. They are then ranked according to their performance. Upon my arrival, the principal proudly reported that Kipchumba was number one out of the thirty students in his class. He also said that he has
begun to talk more with students and teachers as well as participate in other activities. One of his exams included writing an essay about his parents. I was, to say the least, very humbled when I read his paper in which he talked about me. I had no idea how this young boy viewed me as a parent. This is a portion of what he wrote:
My parent is Juli. When there was no school fees, she paid for me. She loves me so much! She can’t forget me. When my father was sick, she was coming to see him. When my father got lost, she took me as her boy. When we did exams, she came to school to see my performance. She always comes in the evening to see if I am continuing well. I thank God for giving me a good parent.
Like Kipchumba, I thank God for the ways He is working in this child’s life and for the role He is allowing me to play. Thank you for your continued prayers for Kipchumba.
Tax-exempt donations may be sent to Empowering Lives International
PO Box 67 Upland, CA 91785 Phone 909.476.6822
email: julimcgowan@empoweringlives.org web: www.empoweringlives.org
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Seasons of Life.
King Solomon, in his wisdom, once wrote: “to everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven” (Ecclesiastes 3:1). For our Home-Based Care team in Kipkaren, this is a season for us to walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Over the past weeks, we have lost several of our dear friends to death. It feels as if we finish the burial of one only to lose another. Our hearts are heavy. Our questions remain unanswered. But in this broken place, we are not without hope. We are being reminded that this world is not our home. We are experiencing the grace that is sufficient to carry us through. We are learning, even more, to depend upon God and one another to continue in the work to which we have been called.
On Valentine’s Day, I received the call that Edwin, the young boy with heart disease, had become acutely sick. He had recently been discharged from the hospital after several unsuccessful attempts to treat his condition. He had wanted to go home. So, he spent his last days with his family in the familiarity of his home and village.
By the time I reached his home, he had already passed away. His family’s small grass-thatched hut was full of neighbors and family members grieving the loss of their child. There was a single candle to light the blackness of the night. At times, the only sound was of a mother crying over the loss of her son. Edwin’s brother laid beside him unaware of all that was taking place. And my heart felt the loss of one that I loved.
Over the past month, these lyrics have been my cry:
When I don’t know what to do,
I’ll lift my hands.
When I don’t know what to say,
I’ll speak your praise.
When I don’t know where to go,
I’ll run to your throne.
When I don’t know what to think,
I’ll stand on your truth.
-Tommy Walker
I thank you for your continued prayers for us as we experience life and death in this place. Your prayers are a source of strength in the midst of our weakness. One thing that has become so evident to me as we journey through this valley is that death is only a shadow. There is life beyond this broken world and the separation we are experiencing is temporary
Thursday, February 01, 2007
In memory of a friend.
Timon Kutto
1/28/63-1/25/07
Last Thursday morning, I received a phone call saying that Timon, a beloved patient and friend, had passed away in the night. Over the past two and a half years, I have had the amazing privilege of knowing and loving this man and his family. HIV/AIDS had stolen his physical body but was never able to infect the beauty of his spirit. It is impossible to explain, but God used Timon’s life to reveal Himself to me in a profound and personal way. As Jesus had promised in Matthew
25, I encountered Him as I visited my sick friend.
For the past few years, Timon spent most of his days under the shade of a tree; and by the time I met him, his speech was very limited. It was his gentle yet piercing eyes that told his unspoken stories and led me to write these lyrics: “The words you long to say, the stories you’ve hidden away– they’re in your eyes, your tear-stained eyes. Dreams lost, brokenness found. Loneliness is all that’s around. It’s in your eyes, your tear-stained eyes. Lost dreamer, dream again– you are going home.” I can only imagine the way Jesus welcomed His child with outstretched arms. He wiped away Timon’s tears. And Timon was freed from the struggles of this world to dance and praise the One who never left his side. Up until the end, without fail, Timon would lift his hand towards heaven and say “Mungu tu”. “It’s only God”.
Timon’s joy was found in his nine year old son named Kipchumba. Just one week prior to Timon’s death, I felt so strongly that if we wanted to love Timon we needed to care for his son. In Timon’s last days, Kipchumba began attending ELI’s Brook of Faith Academy in Kipkaren and is receiving quality education and loving care allowing his father to rest. I thank God that He is the Father of the fatherless. Please pray for Kipchumba.
I will miss the moments with Timon but will forever be grateful for the gift God gave to me through his life. He proved to me that, although it be costly, love never fails.
“LET THE HAND OF THE LORD TAKE CARE OF ME UNTIL I GO HOME.” -
TRANSLATED FROM KALENJIIN, THE LYRICS TO TIMON’S FAVORITE SONG
Monday, January 22, 2007
God with us.
Each month in Kipkaren we pick a theme to represent the activities and focus of our ministry. In December, the theme was God with us; and so many times throughout the month, I saw this to be true. Christmas in Kenya was simple. In this little village, there were no holiday parties to attend, no hopes for a white Christmas, and no stores to rush to for the latest sales. More or less, Christmas felt the same as every other day; and yet, within this place, there is a clear understanding that there is reason to celebrate.
Just prior to Christmas, I went with several members of my Kenyan family to bless the poorest of the poor in our community. We bought food, gathered clothing, and set out to visit our neighbors. We started at the home of a 30 year old widow named Rael who lives with her three young children. It is difficult to explain, but we received the greater blessing that day as Rael graciously welcomed us into her simple grass-thatched hut. The struggle and disappointments of her life are great; but in that moment, we shared together in the faithfulness of our God. In that humble place, I was reminded of God with us and struck by the notion that there is no place Jesus will not go for the sake of love. He met me that day in the disguise of a broken-hearted widow.
On Christmas morning, the 96 children from the ELI Kipkaren Children’s Home as well as others from our church and community gathered to celebrate. I was moved as the children sang a beautiful song in Swahili. The words say, “God, without you, I do not know where I would be.” As I looked into the faces of these precious children, I remembered how they arrived to Kipkaren, just a few months prior, with fear and so many questions in their eyes. They had lost so much in their short lives but on Christmas morning, tears filled my eyes as I saw joy across their faces. They were singing of God with us.
Children Singing on Christmas Morning
I have entered 2007 with great expectations for what God will do in this ministry and within my heart this year. I look forward to sharing with you the struggles and joys of this journey. I have attached a collage of pictures taken throughout 2006. Thank you so much for your generous support through prayer and financial gifts. Mercy, peace, and love be yours in abundance.
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