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.

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