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.
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