Rain.

The other day I found myself walking along a dirt path and looking across plowed fields that are ready for another planting season. Each year, at this time, there is a sense of expectation all over this land as arrangements are made for seed and fertilizer to be bought and hard manual labor to be exercised within the fields. It is all done with the hope that, in due season, a harvest will be reaped. But when the preparations are complete and the seeds have been planted, we must wait for what we cannot control. Although the sun is hot and the earth remains dry, we ask God for rain. Sometimes it comes.
In the same way, fighting against poverty, disease, and injustice is a journey that requires dedication and compassion. Grace is needed to speak on behalf of those whose cries would otherwise not be heard; and patience must be practiced as we wait in hope and long for what is not yet seen- a Kingdom where there is no hunger or thirst, where there is no selfishness and pride, where there are no orphans or forgotten ones, where there is no more pain or death. Oh, how I thank God for the holy moments and for the glimpses of breakthrough when His goodness compels and empowers us to loosen bonds of wickedness and heavy burdens are undone; when His love moves our hearts to share our bread with those who hunger; when His grace allows us to welcome the broken-hearted into our lives as if they were our own.
In 2003, a 12 year old boy named Shadrack stood beside his brothers and sisters as their mom’s body was lowered into the ground. His mom was a young, single mother of six named Selina whose life was cut short by HIV/AIDS. She owned no land and had nothing materially to leave her children. At the burial, the 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, Shadrack 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, cofounder 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. Six years later, there are nearly 200 orphans in ELI Children’s Homes and many other orphans and vulnerable children within the community that are under our care. Each has a story of loss and hope interwoven together.
Thanks to friends at ELI, together with his sisters, Shadrack was sponsored to go to school since the 7th grade. He worked very hard and successfully finished high school in 2008. Earlier this month, we received the results from the national exam taken by all high school seniors, and Shadrack excelled with a grade of A- which will allow him to be accepted and go to a national university. Recently, I sat down with this now 18 year old young man and listened to him tell his story. He shared that he hopes to, one day, become a pilot. He also expressed his thanks to David Tarus and to ELI for assisting his family. He explained, “Without the help of ELI, I would have had to dream small. Tarus took the burden to see that I got an education. Now I can help others in the future who are in the same state as me.”
It is amazing what happens when true religion is lived out. The hope and future of orphans are reclaimed. And as we walk with God, we learn to love. There is much work to be done; but like the farmer, we must wait for what we cannot control. We ask God for rain; and when it comes, it is like a breath of fresh air received with great joy.