There are moments when it is so clear- things aren’t as they were meant to be. I have had a few of those this week.
I was asked to visit the home of a 17 years old girl with uncontrolled Type 1 Diabetes. She had been seen in a nearby clinic, but the physician was concerned about her home situation and whether she was getting food and the insulin she needed. For the past year, Emily has been blind and completely dependent upon others for her care. Her grandmother was her primary caretaker as both of her parents are struggling with alcoholism, but she recently passed away. After a forty-five minute drive on our bumpy roads, our Tumaini na Afya team arrived to the home.
Immediately I began to hear crying, a cry of brokenness coming from the home. It was Emily. She was alone and was in great pain. She was broken-hearted. Although we had never met before, she began to share her burdens that she was hungry and felt helpless. She said, “if only I could see, I could go and look for food.” In my spirit I believe that God had us arrive at that very moment- allowing us to hear the cries of His child, the cries that He alone has heard and that have broken His heart.
Curious neighbors filled the home, and I saw a 20 year old girl who was mentally disabled crawling on the floor. She was child-like, unable to speak or control her body movements. But she was precious. Emily explained that this girl was her sister and that the little boy standing beside her, who was wearing only a ragged t-shirt, was her sister’s child. I felt my jaw drop as anger and disgust filled me. About this time, Emily’s mother came into the house. She looked tired, deeply burdened. She lifted the little boy and put him to his mother’s breast. She wasn’t able to hold the baby herself. When he was finished eating, someone else lifted him.
We began to pray. There was so much darkness. The family was entangled in poverty, disease, alcoholism, and hunger. Unsure of how to respond but convinced that we must intervene, we prayed and left. Deeply moved, the images I had just seen and the sound of Emily’s cries filled me.
After prayer and further consideration, we decided to bring Emily home. She needs to be fed, treated and loved. One goal is to get her stable enough to go for cataract surgery so that her sight can be restored. Although the situation feels beyond repair, I believe that God will break through this darkness. I desire to see the love of Christ transform this home.
All that is broken will one day be restored. I live in this hope and long for that day; but for now, there is a Kingdom with a King whose mission is to bind up broken hearts. And there is a broken heart named Emily. I ask for you to pray that we would have wisdom in this situation and that deep healing will come. Thank you.
I also wanted to update you that our two little malnourished babies, Flovia and Felix, are doing well.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Love costs.
Love will cause you to be uncomfortable but is always worth what it costs. This truth has become a reoccurring theme throughout my life. This past week, I encountered the uncomfortable part again as I walked away from a couple of heartbreaking home-visits where I met with two of our HIV+ children who were deteriorating quickly from severe malnutrition. I knew something needed to be done, and love would require action. Attempts to provide food and support to the families had been implemented, but the children were failing to grow. Both children were in need of intensive care. As Mother Teresa said, “It is very important for us to realize that love, to be true, has to hurt. I must be willing to give whatever it takes not to harm other people and, in fact, to do good to them. This requires that I be willing to give until it hurts. Otherwise there is no true love in me and I bring injustice, not peace, to those around me”.
The first little boy is named Felix; and although he is one year old, he is the size of a newborn. He weighs a mere 10 lbs. and is unable to lift up his head or sit up. He has big brown eyes that are constantly looking around the room. In November, Felix’s father passed away from complications related to HIV/AIDS leaving his mother as a widow at the age of 18. She is also living with HIV and trying to raise Felix and two orphans from her husband’s first marriage. Needless to say, the situation is full of challenges and Felix is failing to thrive.
The second visit was to that of a little 2 ½ years old girl named Flovia. In December of 2006, Flovia’s single mother died leaving her to be raised by her grandmother. She barely weighs 13 lbs. and is no longer strong enough to walk. She, like Felix, is very developmentally delayed and regressing as time continues. Weak and frustrated, she is irritable much of the time. As I sat outside her mud hut, I saw classic signs indicative of severe malnutrition. I knew that, without immediate action, this child would not survive.
In response to the needs before us, our Tumaini na Afya team, in collaboration with the children’s families, chose to create a temporary shelter for these little ones to get the attention they are desperately needing. We are feeding them every two hours with a special formula.
developed by the World Health Organization and loving them as they so deserve to be loved.
I have just come from playing with Flovia. In the past two years of visiting her home, I have never seen her smile; but tonight, she laughed. I cannot tell you the way it touched my heart. She played peek-a-boo and was blowing kisses. She is feeding well and the swelling in her legs has decreased. She has begun to wave her little hand and say “bye”. Although my mom always used to tell me that I should say “see you later” rather than “good-bye”; for the moment, “bye” has become my favorite word.
The journey ahead for both Felix and Flovia will be long and will call for hard work and love. It costs sleep. It needs patience and commitment. It involves getting dirty. It will undoubtedly require us, at times, to be uncomfortable. But the love, which we have in Christ, will bear all things, hope all things, believe all things, and endure all things. And no matter what may come, it will never fail.
Your prayers for Felix and Flovia, as well as our entire Tumaini na Afya team, are requested and greatly appreciated.
House-to-house HIV testing.
I also wanted to share with you about an exciting and challenging HIV awareness initiative that we are preparing to launch in June. We are partnering with AMPATH, the local HIV treatment center, to do house-to-house HIV testing within our division. Tumaini na Afya will be mobilizing people within villages to receive HIV testing within their homes. The population we are trying to reach nears 120,000. If this project succeeds, AMPATH’s goal is to test 2 million people living in Western Kenya in the next two years. Again, I request your prayers. There are many battles to be fought and won.
The first little boy is named Felix; and although he is one year old, he is the size of a newborn. He weighs a mere 10 lbs. and is unable to lift up his head or sit up. He has big brown eyes that are constantly looking around the room. In November, Felix’s father passed away from complications related to HIV/AIDS leaving his mother as a widow at the age of 18. She is also living with HIV and trying to raise Felix and two orphans from her husband’s first marriage. Needless to say, the situation is full of challenges and Felix is failing to thrive.
The second visit was to that of a little 2 ½ years old girl named Flovia. In December of 2006, Flovia’s single mother died leaving her to be raised by her grandmother. She barely weighs 13 lbs. and is no longer strong enough to walk. She, like Felix, is very developmentally delayed and regressing as time continues. Weak and frustrated, she is irritable much of the time. As I sat outside her mud hut, I saw classic signs indicative of severe malnutrition. I knew that, without immediate action, this child would not survive.
In response to the needs before us, our Tumaini na Afya team, in collaboration with the children’s families, chose to create a temporary shelter for these little ones to get the attention they are desperately needing. We are feeding them every two hours with a special formula.
developed by the World Health Organization and loving them as they so deserve to be loved.
I have just come from playing with Flovia. In the past two years of visiting her home, I have never seen her smile; but tonight, she laughed. I cannot tell you the way it touched my heart. She played peek-a-boo and was blowing kisses. She is feeding well and the swelling in her legs has decreased. She has begun to wave her little hand and say “bye”. Although my mom always used to tell me that I should say “see you later” rather than “good-bye”; for the moment, “bye” has become my favorite word.
The journey ahead for both Felix and Flovia will be long and will call for hard work and love. It costs sleep. It needs patience and commitment. It involves getting dirty. It will undoubtedly require us, at times, to be uncomfortable. But the love, which we have in Christ, will bear all things, hope all things, believe all things, and endure all things. And no matter what may come, it will never fail.
Your prayers for Felix and Flovia, as well as our entire Tumaini na Afya team, are requested and greatly appreciated.
House-to-house HIV testing.
I also wanted to share with you about an exciting and challenging HIV awareness initiative that we are preparing to launch in June. We are partnering with AMPATH, the local HIV treatment center, to do house-to-house HIV testing within our division. Tumaini na Afya will be mobilizing people within villages to receive HIV testing within their homes. The population we are trying to reach nears 120,000. If this project succeeds, AMPATH’s goal is to test 2 million people living in Western Kenya in the next two years. Again, I request your prayers. There are many battles to be fought and won.
Friday, April 04, 2008
The divide.
This morning I walked the simple paths of this village. I visited the homes of two single mothers – one, I had never met before while the other is a dear friend of mine. These women’s life experiences are not so different from one another, but I was struck by the huge divide in which they live. Their houses are both comprised of the same mud and sticks. Each would, by anyone’s standards, be considered financially poor. They both have their own story of disappointment and rejection by their families. With all of these similarities, the difference between them is like night and day. You see, one has hope.
To reach the first home, I walked through corn fields and crossed the river by balancing across a log bridge. I met a young 27 year old mother of five daughters who, simply put, is struggling to survive. ELI was introduced to this mama when she brought her four year old daughter to our clinic. The child was on the verge of starvation. Even several weeks after intense treatment, her protruding abdomen and stick thin extremities tell of her malnourishment. Even more than her physical condition, I was broken by her blank stare. God only knows all that this little one has faced, but she has completely withdrawn. Two of the other little girls, under the age of five, also had evidence of severe malnutrition. As I sat in this little mud hut, I looked at the sparse grass on the roof and wondered how this mama and her little ones stay dry when it rains and how they sleep with mosquitoes buzzing by their heads. I wondered what this mama’s motivation is to wake up each morning. The truth is, she explained, that when she brought her dying child to the clinic she had lost all hope. In this incredibly difficult situation, I am thankful to be a part of this ELI ministry team that seeks to put compassion into action and that does not sit back when confronted with the suffering of God’s children.
The second home, in contrast, was like a breath of fresh air. A lady, who once was a prostitute and is currently living with HIV/AIDS, glowed as she welcomed me to her home. Her physical struggles are present, but she has a friendship with God that is extravagant. She shared about the ways God is teaching her that He is great. She repeated it over and again: Our God is great. As I listened, it was not like she was trying to convince herself or impress me. She said she had been reading stories in the Bible about God showing up to fight for His people. She explained that countless times He has been her help. As she spoke, I was reminded of the scandalous story in the Bible when the prostitute came to Jesus. She was broken and weeping, but she came and worshipped at the feet of Jesus with her tears and a costly bottle of fragrant oil. After much criticism, Jesus replied to the accusers: “You gave me no kiss, but this woman has not ceased to kiss my feet since the time I came in . . . Therefore, I say to you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much. But to whom little is forgiven, the same loves little. Then he said to her, ‘Your sins are forgiven.’” (Luke 7:45-48). My friend, who walks in the freedom of forgiveness, has learned to love much.
To reach the first home, I walked through corn fields and crossed the river by balancing across a log bridge. I met a young 27 year old mother of five daughters who, simply put, is struggling to survive. ELI was introduced to this mama when she brought her four year old daughter to our clinic. The child was on the verge of starvation. Even several weeks after intense treatment, her protruding abdomen and stick thin extremities tell of her malnourishment. Even more than her physical condition, I was broken by her blank stare. God only knows all that this little one has faced, but she has completely withdrawn. Two of the other little girls, under the age of five, also had evidence of severe malnutrition. As I sat in this little mud hut, I looked at the sparse grass on the roof and wondered how this mama and her little ones stay dry when it rains and how they sleep with mosquitoes buzzing by their heads. I wondered what this mama’s motivation is to wake up each morning. The truth is, she explained, that when she brought her dying child to the clinic she had lost all hope. In this incredibly difficult situation, I am thankful to be a part of this ELI ministry team that seeks to put compassion into action and that does not sit back when confronted with the suffering of God’s children.
The second home, in contrast, was like a breath of fresh air. A lady, who once was a prostitute and is currently living with HIV/AIDS, glowed as she welcomed me to her home. Her physical struggles are present, but she has a friendship with God that is extravagant. She shared about the ways God is teaching her that He is great. She repeated it over and again: Our God is great. As I listened, it was not like she was trying to convince herself or impress me. She said she had been reading stories in the Bible about God showing up to fight for His people. She explained that countless times He has been her help. As she spoke, I was reminded of the scandalous story in the Bible when the prostitute came to Jesus. She was broken and weeping, but she came and worshipped at the feet of Jesus with her tears and a costly bottle of fragrant oil. After much criticism, Jesus replied to the accusers: “You gave me no kiss, but this woman has not ceased to kiss my feet since the time I came in . . . Therefore, I say to you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much. But to whom little is forgiven, the same loves little. Then he said to her, ‘Your sins are forgiven.’” (Luke 7:45-48). My friend, who walks in the freedom of forgiveness, has learned to love much.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Easter
“Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” These are the
words Jesus spoke to his friends as he prepared to go to the cross. The
most grueling and terrifying death imaginable awaited him, but he
sought to comfort his followers. He wanted to reassure them that he
was not leaving them as orphans. Although they did not understand, he
spoke of a Comforter who would be sent and of a peace, unlike the
world gives, that would be available to them. Oh, how he loved them.
This week, as we remember the sacrifice Jesus made for each of us, I
had the opportunity to break away from normal life in the village to rest
in the Kakamega rainforest. I took time to reflect upon these past few
months of life and to debrief and relax with dear friends. There has
been great loss and disappointment. But there has also been evidence
of God’s faithfulness. Calm has returned, and we continue to pray for
deep peace.
On Wednesday morning, I sat in the middle of the forest and watched
the monkeys play and listened to the birds sing. Thoughts raced
through my head, and my heart felt troubled. Surrounded by the giant
trees, I felt small. I needed to hear these gentle words: “Let not your
heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” As I did, I felt release. I was
quieted. I chose to let go of the many things I cannot control and to
trust the loving‐kindness of Jesus.
May the words of Jesus confront and quiet you with his love.
words Jesus spoke to his friends as he prepared to go to the cross. The
most grueling and terrifying death imaginable awaited him, but he
sought to comfort his followers. He wanted to reassure them that he
was not leaving them as orphans. Although they did not understand, he
spoke of a Comforter who would be sent and of a peace, unlike the
world gives, that would be available to them. Oh, how he loved them.
This week, as we remember the sacrifice Jesus made for each of us, I
had the opportunity to break away from normal life in the village to rest
in the Kakamega rainforest. I took time to reflect upon these past few
months of life and to debrief and relax with dear friends. There has
been great loss and disappointment. But there has also been evidence
of God’s faithfulness. Calm has returned, and we continue to pray for
deep peace.
On Wednesday morning, I sat in the middle of the forest and watched
the monkeys play and listened to the birds sing. Thoughts raced
through my head, and my heart felt troubled. Surrounded by the giant
trees, I felt small. I needed to hear these gentle words: “Let not your
heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” As I did, I felt release. I was
quieted. I chose to let go of the many things I cannot control and to
trust the loving‐kindness of Jesus.
May the words of Jesus confront and quiet you with his love.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Congo Update
Congo Update.
I returned to Kipkaren on Saturday from my journey to Bukavu, Congo DRC with my heart both broken and encouraged by the paths walked, the faces encountered, and the stories shared. Mudekereza, ELI Congo’s Director, met me at the airport in Kigali, Rwanda to accompany me on a six hour bus ride through winding roads. As we traveled, he shared about his life and family, the wars that have plagued his country for the past decade, and of the dream he has to see the people of his homeland live empowered lives. He apologized for his English (although it was excellent) explaining it was his fifth of five languages spoken. Never the less, from the time we met, it was evident that this man who barely stands five feet in height is a giant in faith, vision, and leadership.
Over the next week, he led me through the slums he calls home. I walked down steep paths to find ELI’s school. It truly was like a bright light in the midst of darkness as 545 children have received the opportunity to go to school to be fed
physically and spiritually. As I arrived at the school, I was welcomed with singing and dancing children. Flower petals of brilliant colors were thrown at my feet as a beautiful expression of their hospitality.
Immediately I was taken to the kitchen where a group of women were preparing porridge for the children. For most, this cup of porridge is their only source of food for the day. It was incredibly humbling to watch hungry kids wait in line
for food, but it was also an honor to be able to serve them. When the little girl, with big brown eyes, said “merci” (thank you) with a sincerity that is impossible to explain, it became a holy moment.
Sunday morning, I piled into a vehicle with seven of Mudekereza’s eight children and drove down the road which has so many pot holes that it basically is ONE LARGE pot hole. We arrived at the church, again at the top of a steep hillside and
trudged down muddy slopes to enter a small brick building sheltered with iron sheets. A humble room was filled with about forty people; and for the next three hours, God’s sweet presence ministered to my tired, broken spirit. Rhythmic
songs with beautiful melodies resonated as they were presented as offerings of praise. Without comprehension, tears filled my eyes. I sat still and was blessed by this group of worshippers. With nothing else to give, they offered their
lives. Again, it was a holy moment.
Over the next few days, I attended meetings, visited HIV clinics and discussed the possibilities of implementing HIV testing and general treatment for the children at ELI’s school as well as the surrounding community.
After waking up twice to strong earthquakes one night, I read the words of
Psalm 46. These words spoke to me, reminding me of God’s power and
compassion all at once. With all the political unrest in Kenya, the past couple
of months have felt like a series of disappointments, scary unknowns, and
constant danger. As the earth moved underneath me, I needed God to remind
me that He is my refuge, that He is present in the midst of all these troubles. I
needed to know that God was in my midst and that he would help me. I
needed to be still and know that He is God. So, I am grateful for His words that
gave me courage to trust Him once more.
I thank God for the opportunity to see the ministry that is taking place in
Bukavu and look forward to returning as God leads.
Loss.
In my last update, I shared about a six year old boy named Elvis who was
suffering from a brain tumor. On Wednesday night, while staying in Nairobi, I
received a call around 10:30 p.m. from Mama Elvis. She had traveled the eight
hour drive to Nairobi with Elvis the previous week for him to receive radiation
therapy at the national hospital in Kenya. She called because Elvis had just
passed away.
Separated from her family, she had no money to pay the hospital bill and no
idea of how to get her son's little body home. It was impossible for her to
grieve as she had to simply survive. When she called me, in a very small way, I
felt the hopelessness of this mother. I asked God to make a way for her.
Thursday morning I met Mama Elvis at the hospital and began the long,
arduous process of getting the hospital bill paid, buying a coffin, hiring a car to
drive them to Eldoret, waiting in five separate lines at the mortuary, and
finally picking this precious little one's body to send him home to be buried. I
do not understand these situations, but I do thank God for His provision and
favor in this difficult situation. I thank God for the privilege to grieve with this
mother (not because I particularly enjoy grieving), but God’s compassion and
mercy filled me when it was needed. Mama Elvis traveled safely to her home
and was able to bury her child properly, with her family beside her to support
her.
Thank you for praying for this mother and family as they mourn their loss. I
am grateful for God’s promise that He will comfort those who mourn.
Kenya Update.
I received the SWEET news on Thursday that an agreement was signed
between President Kibaki and Raila. Rather than having mass action and more
destruction, which had been called for, Kenya received breakthrough. It was
the first step in the right direction; and for it, I am so grateful. When only a
miracle would do, God gave us one. People, all over the country, are now
wishing each other a “Happy New Year.” I pray that God’s peace will fill this
land. Thank you for your continued prayers.
I returned to Kipkaren on Saturday from my journey to Bukavu, Congo DRC with my heart both broken and encouraged by the paths walked, the faces encountered, and the stories shared. Mudekereza, ELI Congo’s Director, met me at the airport in Kigali, Rwanda to accompany me on a six hour bus ride through winding roads. As we traveled, he shared about his life and family, the wars that have plagued his country for the past decade, and of the dream he has to see the people of his homeland live empowered lives. He apologized for his English (although it was excellent) explaining it was his fifth of five languages spoken. Never the less, from the time we met, it was evident that this man who barely stands five feet in height is a giant in faith, vision, and leadership.
Over the next week, he led me through the slums he calls home. I walked down steep paths to find ELI’s school. It truly was like a bright light in the midst of darkness as 545 children have received the opportunity to go to school to be fed
physically and spiritually. As I arrived at the school, I was welcomed with singing and dancing children. Flower petals of brilliant colors were thrown at my feet as a beautiful expression of their hospitality.
Immediately I was taken to the kitchen where a group of women were preparing porridge for the children. For most, this cup of porridge is their only source of food for the day. It was incredibly humbling to watch hungry kids wait in line
for food, but it was also an honor to be able to serve them. When the little girl, with big brown eyes, said “merci” (thank you) with a sincerity that is impossible to explain, it became a holy moment.
Sunday morning, I piled into a vehicle with seven of Mudekereza’s eight children and drove down the road which has so many pot holes that it basically is ONE LARGE pot hole. We arrived at the church, again at the top of a steep hillside and
trudged down muddy slopes to enter a small brick building sheltered with iron sheets. A humble room was filled with about forty people; and for the next three hours, God’s sweet presence ministered to my tired, broken spirit. Rhythmic
songs with beautiful melodies resonated as they were presented as offerings of praise. Without comprehension, tears filled my eyes. I sat still and was blessed by this group of worshippers. With nothing else to give, they offered their
lives. Again, it was a holy moment.
Over the next few days, I attended meetings, visited HIV clinics and discussed the possibilities of implementing HIV testing and general treatment for the children at ELI’s school as well as the surrounding community.
After waking up twice to strong earthquakes one night, I read the words of
Psalm 46. These words spoke to me, reminding me of God’s power and
compassion all at once. With all the political unrest in Kenya, the past couple
of months have felt like a series of disappointments, scary unknowns, and
constant danger. As the earth moved underneath me, I needed God to remind
me that He is my refuge, that He is present in the midst of all these troubles. I
needed to know that God was in my midst and that he would help me. I
needed to be still and know that He is God. So, I am grateful for His words that
gave me courage to trust Him once more.
I thank God for the opportunity to see the ministry that is taking place in
Bukavu and look forward to returning as God leads.
Loss.
In my last update, I shared about a six year old boy named Elvis who was
suffering from a brain tumor. On Wednesday night, while staying in Nairobi, I
received a call around 10:30 p.m. from Mama Elvis. She had traveled the eight
hour drive to Nairobi with Elvis the previous week for him to receive radiation
therapy at the national hospital in Kenya. She called because Elvis had just
passed away.
Separated from her family, she had no money to pay the hospital bill and no
idea of how to get her son's little body home. It was impossible for her to
grieve as she had to simply survive. When she called me, in a very small way, I
felt the hopelessness of this mother. I asked God to make a way for her.
Thursday morning I met Mama Elvis at the hospital and began the long,
arduous process of getting the hospital bill paid, buying a coffin, hiring a car to
drive them to Eldoret, waiting in five separate lines at the mortuary, and
finally picking this precious little one's body to send him home to be buried. I
do not understand these situations, but I do thank God for His provision and
favor in this difficult situation. I thank God for the privilege to grieve with this
mother (not because I particularly enjoy grieving), but God’s compassion and
mercy filled me when it was needed. Mama Elvis traveled safely to her home
and was able to bury her child properly, with her family beside her to support
her.
Thank you for praying for this mother and family as they mourn their loss. I
am grateful for God’s promise that He will comfort those who mourn.
Kenya Update.
I received the SWEET news on Thursday that an agreement was signed
between President Kibaki and Raila. Rather than having mass action and more
destruction, which had been called for, Kenya received breakthrough. It was
the first step in the right direction; and for it, I am so grateful. When only a
miracle would do, God gave us one. People, all over the country, are now
wishing each other a “Happy New Year.” I pray that God’s peace will fill this
land. Thank you for your continued prayers.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Beauty for Ashes
The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me,
because the LORD has anointed me
to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor.
Isaiah 61:1-3
Over the past month, the words beauty instead of ashes, have resonated within my head. Ashes are currently all that can be seen throughout the land of Kenya. The controversial presidential election sparked violent reactions leaving over 1000 people dead and nearly 300,000 internally displaced. There are many contributing factors, but the outcome is ashes. Lives destroyed. Homes burned. Communities destroyed. Neighbors divided. So much has been lost. All who love this land feel this loss deeply. Currently, mediation talks are taking place between President Kibaki and the Opposition leader, Raila. We, in Kipkaren, are praying for a resolution for the political crisis. We are praying for good to over come evil. In hope, we are awaiting the beauty that will be as peace and justice are restored to this land. We believe that, as God’s children, we have a necessary role to play in this Kingdom which shares good news to the poor, binds up broken hearts, proclaims freedom to those who have been in prisons of all kinds, provides for those who grieve… The ashes will be replaced. Please continue to pray for Kenya.
I went to visit my dear friend Betty today. I have been visiting her daily as she undergoes an intensive therapy for the treatment of recurrent TB. Today, I gave her the 36th of 60 shots she is to receive. The process she is undergoing takes perseverance; and yet, in spite of her physical sufferings, her faith continues to be a source of encouragement to me. When I reached her home, I felt overwhelmed by the needs that surround. This past weekend, our team buried one of our clients, and we have felt his loss. A young orphan girl, whose mother had been one of my patients, came this morning requesting fees so that she will be able to attend school. Then I received a phone call that another one of my patients had grown very sick and needed to be taken to the hospital. He is in the painful process of dying of AIDS. Then, I received another call explaining that the CT scan of a little boy named Elvis revealed his brain tumor is back. He is only five years old. His mother does not know how she will afford to go to the specialist in Nairobi. So, by the time I reached Betty’s home, I needed to hear her words: “Mungu anaweza” God is able. I needed to hear her sing, in Swahili, the old hymn that says “The great Physician now is near, the sympathizing Jesus.” She said, “Juli, Jesus is always near.” Her words were refreshing to my heart. I ask for your prayers for our health ministry as we, one life at a time, seek to love with the love of Jesus. May we never grow tired in doing good.
On Friday, I will be traveling to the Congo for one week to attend some meetings pertaining to ELI’s HIV program in the city of Bukavu. I am looking forward to meeting our national team in Congo and visiting ELI’s school in the slum that provides education and food for 600 children. Please pray for God’s peace and protection to cover me as I travel
because the LORD has anointed me
to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor.
Isaiah 61:1-3
Over the past month, the words beauty instead of ashes, have resonated within my head. Ashes are currently all that can be seen throughout the land of Kenya. The controversial presidential election sparked violent reactions leaving over 1000 people dead and nearly 300,000 internally displaced. There are many contributing factors, but the outcome is ashes. Lives destroyed. Homes burned. Communities destroyed. Neighbors divided. So much has been lost. All who love this land feel this loss deeply. Currently, mediation talks are taking place between President Kibaki and the Opposition leader, Raila. We, in Kipkaren, are praying for a resolution for the political crisis. We are praying for good to over come evil. In hope, we are awaiting the beauty that will be as peace and justice are restored to this land. We believe that, as God’s children, we have a necessary role to play in this Kingdom which shares good news to the poor, binds up broken hearts, proclaims freedom to those who have been in prisons of all kinds, provides for those who grieve… The ashes will be replaced. Please continue to pray for Kenya.
I went to visit my dear friend Betty today. I have been visiting her daily as she undergoes an intensive therapy for the treatment of recurrent TB. Today, I gave her the 36th of 60 shots she is to receive. The process she is undergoing takes perseverance; and yet, in spite of her physical sufferings, her faith continues to be a source of encouragement to me. When I reached her home, I felt overwhelmed by the needs that surround. This past weekend, our team buried one of our clients, and we have felt his loss. A young orphan girl, whose mother had been one of my patients, came this morning requesting fees so that she will be able to attend school. Then I received a phone call that another one of my patients had grown very sick and needed to be taken to the hospital. He is in the painful process of dying of AIDS. Then, I received another call explaining that the CT scan of a little boy named Elvis revealed his brain tumor is back. He is only five years old. His mother does not know how she will afford to go to the specialist in Nairobi. So, by the time I reached Betty’s home, I needed to hear her words: “Mungu anaweza” God is able. I needed to hear her sing, in Swahili, the old hymn that says “The great Physician now is near, the sympathizing Jesus.” She said, “Juli, Jesus is always near.” Her words were refreshing to my heart. I ask for your prayers for our health ministry as we, one life at a time, seek to love with the love of Jesus. May we never grow tired in doing good.
On Friday, I will be traveling to the Congo for one week to attend some meetings pertaining to ELI’s HIV program in the city of Bukavu. I am looking forward to meeting our national team in Congo and visiting ELI’s school in the slum that provides education and food for 600 children. Please pray for God’s peace and protection to cover me as I travel
Friday, January 25, 2008
Blessings
I cannot express what it means to know that people are standing with me in prayer as Kenya continues to walk this difficult journey of political unrest. For me, the issue I am really praying about is the idea of calm vs. peace. Like so much of the world, Kenya is used to living in calm but not peace. I do not want to simply return to the "calm" where we put up with one another (although it feels much nicer). There are deep issues of hatred between tribes that unless/until they are addressed will continue to resurface. In the midst of this evil, I believe that God is trying to reveal His heart for this place, for His people. There is a deep cleansing that needs to occur. So, we continue to pray. I wanted to share these reflections from an experience I had this past week...
Like so many other Friday’s, I went to the HIV/AIDS clinic this morning to treat patients. Like any other day, people walked to the clinic or were carried on the back of bicycles. They waited in the open air corridors of the clinic to be treated. One man arrived critically ill and desperately needed to be referred to a larger hospital just one hour away; but unlike other days, there was no vehicle to take him. The road towards town contains blockades as the post-election violence continues. So, the possibility of extending treatment or even relief to this dying man seemed impossible. Rachel, the Health Practitioner I was working with, unwilling to give up asked if I would go on a walk with her. I agreed, and we walked a few hundred meters up a large hill to the police station to request them to escort this man to the hospital. As we were walking, a group of women, displaced from their homes, greeted us. They explained that it had really been raining upon them over the past few days, and they asked her for her white lab coat. She responded that she still needed it for work.
I was not prepared for the sights I was about to see. A mere ten miles from my village I entered a refugee camp. As I reached the top of the hill, I was greeted by a lady who I used to eat in her little restaurant. With tears in her eyes, she said: “welcome to our refugee camp.” I looked into the faces of hungry and dirty children. They were playing in the middle of their refuge amongst 20,000 others who had been chased as their homes were burned to the ground. I recognized others I have treated as patients at the HIV clinic. A deep sadness entered my heart. Tears filled my eyes, and I feared if I allowed them to flow they might not ever stop. I talked with a little girl, and she asked me where I was from. I told her that I lived in Kipkaren; and she simply replied, “me too”. The only difference is that her home is no longer. She is struggling, along with 300,000 others who have been displaced within their own homeland, to survive. It is hard to imagine the kind of politics, the tribal hatred that could lead to this injustice.
After arrangements had been made with the police for transporting our patient, we started back down the hill. A little girl, maybe six years old, was carrying water on her head as she climbed the hill. Her name, Upendo (which means love in Kiswahili), struck me. She represents all that we have been called to do as followers of Christ. Overwhelmed by the devastation of this land, I remembered these instructions that say: “Open your mouth for the speechless, in the cause of all who are appointed to die. Open your mouth, judge righteously, and plead the cause of the poor and the needy” (Proverbs 31:8-9).
And then it began to rain. It was not a light, gentle drizzle but a big rain. For a moment, in a small way, I felt their struggles. This may seem obvious; but without a shelter to enter, it is cold and wet when it rains. Without food to eat, hunger is felt. Without peace, there is no rest. As we walked through the rain, Rachel said: “now I know why they needed my coat.” I am convinced, although uncomfortable, there are times we need to know. I recently came across this prayer that has challenged, once again, my view of what it means to be blessed.
May God bless you with discomfort
At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships
So that you may live deep within your heart.
May God bless you with tears
To shed for those who suffer pain, rejections, hunger and war,
So that you may reach out your hand to comfort them
And to turn their pain into joy.
And may God bless you with enough foolishness
To believe that you can make a difference in the world
So that you can do what others claim cannot be done.
To bring justice and kindness to all.
So, I am opening my mouth on behalf of those without a voice. God has shown us what is good and what is required. We are to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with Him. May God lead our hearts to love more fully and to follow Him wherever He leads.
Like so many other Friday’s, I went to the HIV/AIDS clinic this morning to treat patients. Like any other day, people walked to the clinic or were carried on the back of bicycles. They waited in the open air corridors of the clinic to be treated. One man arrived critically ill and desperately needed to be referred to a larger hospital just one hour away; but unlike other days, there was no vehicle to take him. The road towards town contains blockades as the post-election violence continues. So, the possibility of extending treatment or even relief to this dying man seemed impossible. Rachel, the Health Practitioner I was working with, unwilling to give up asked if I would go on a walk with her. I agreed, and we walked a few hundred meters up a large hill to the police station to request them to escort this man to the hospital. As we were walking, a group of women, displaced from their homes, greeted us. They explained that it had really been raining upon them over the past few days, and they asked her for her white lab coat. She responded that she still needed it for work.
I was not prepared for the sights I was about to see. A mere ten miles from my village I entered a refugee camp. As I reached the top of the hill, I was greeted by a lady who I used to eat in her little restaurant. With tears in her eyes, she said: “welcome to our refugee camp.” I looked into the faces of hungry and dirty children. They were playing in the middle of their refuge amongst 20,000 others who had been chased as their homes were burned to the ground. I recognized others I have treated as patients at the HIV clinic. A deep sadness entered my heart. Tears filled my eyes, and I feared if I allowed them to flow they might not ever stop. I talked with a little girl, and she asked me where I was from. I told her that I lived in Kipkaren; and she simply replied, “me too”. The only difference is that her home is no longer. She is struggling, along with 300,000 others who have been displaced within their own homeland, to survive. It is hard to imagine the kind of politics, the tribal hatred that could lead to this injustice.
After arrangements had been made with the police for transporting our patient, we started back down the hill. A little girl, maybe six years old, was carrying water on her head as she climbed the hill. Her name, Upendo (which means love in Kiswahili), struck me. She represents all that we have been called to do as followers of Christ. Overwhelmed by the devastation of this land, I remembered these instructions that say: “Open your mouth for the speechless, in the cause of all who are appointed to die. Open your mouth, judge righteously, and plead the cause of the poor and the needy” (Proverbs 31:8-9).
And then it began to rain. It was not a light, gentle drizzle but a big rain. For a moment, in a small way, I felt their struggles. This may seem obvious; but without a shelter to enter, it is cold and wet when it rains. Without food to eat, hunger is felt. Without peace, there is no rest. As we walked through the rain, Rachel said: “now I know why they needed my coat.” I am convinced, although uncomfortable, there are times we need to know. I recently came across this prayer that has challenged, once again, my view of what it means to be blessed.
May God bless you with discomfort
At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships
So that you may live deep within your heart.
May God bless you with tears
To shed for those who suffer pain, rejections, hunger and war,
So that you may reach out your hand to comfort them
And to turn their pain into joy.
And may God bless you with enough foolishness
To believe that you can make a difference in the world
So that you can do what others claim cannot be done.
To bring justice and kindness to all.
So, I am opening my mouth on behalf of those without a voice. God has shown us what is good and what is required. We are to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with Him. May God lead our hearts to love more fully and to follow Him wherever He leads.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Mountain Climbing
Jacob Kyungai, a mountain guide to Kilimanjaro said: "Kilimanjaro is a place where ordinary people come to do something extraordinary, to leave their lives and stand in a place between heaven and earth, a magical place in the Africa of their dreams." To begin the year, I journeyed to the mountain, to the highest point in Africa. Within a few days, I climbed through the lush rainforest to the moorland to the high desert and peaked to the summit which lies at 19,340 feet. So many times throughout the Bible, people went to the mountains to meet with God. This is what I desired and desperately needed.
On December 27th, Kenya held its presidential election. Inconsistencies in the counting and reporting of the ballots as well as delays in announcing the results left many people unnerved. After several days of waiting, it was announced that the incumbent president was reelected. Many people, especially the youth, had been promised change by the opposition candidate and began to respond violently by looting, burning homes and buildings and even churches. Neighbor began to fight neighbor based on tribal differences and political lines. To this point, nearly 600 people have lost their lives and over 300,000 men, women and children have been displaced from their homes. As I climbed Mt Kilimanjaro, I lifted my eyes to the mountain to where my help comes from. With each step, I prayed for this broken land of Kenya that I love so much. I let go of what I could not control and asked God to intervene.
At midnight, on the fourth day of trekking, I began the ascent to the summit. Already breathless and exhausted at camp, which lies just over fifteen thousand feet, I wondered whether I would make it to the top of this majestic mountain. Along with thirteen others in our group, I journeyed step by step through the darkness and cold. I could only see as far as the step in front of me; and as I prayed, I felt like God was saying: “This is what life is like. You can only see the step in which you are taking, but I can see it all. The path is steep and you feel as if you will fall, but I am walking with you. Even though you are tired, if you will keep taking the next step, you will make it to the mountain top.”
As I consider life and the troubles that are faced within this world, I am grateful for God’s word that settles my heart saying: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by your name; you are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, nor shall the flame scorch you” (Isaiah 43:1-2). After nearly eight hours of simply taking the next step, the sun rose beautifully and I stood on the roof of Africa.
As I climbed the mountain of Kilimanjaro, God was with me. As I sit in my village threatened by hatred and injustice, it feels as if we are climbing another mountain. It is difficult to see one step in front of us, but God is with us. As I stood last night with a friend, she shared about her family’s home being burned to the ground because of the tribe she was born into. Not one material thing remained spared from the ashes, but she said that God had been gracious to her and protected each member of her family from injury. She expressed that God has walked each step with her during this difficult journey. Please continue to pray for this nation that justice and peace will be restored and a deep healing might begin.
ELI has created an emergency fund to address all of the current needs that have surfaced because of the crisis. If you or anyone you know would like to give towards this fund, they can mail a check to our office (PO Box 67 Upland, CA 91785) and earmark it for the “Kenya emergency fund.”
Going Home
On December 23rd, my Kenyan family and I filled our ambulance with 18 people full and headed out to visit several of our neighbors in need. We took boxes of food and small gifts to celebrate the birth of Christ together. One of our visits was to the home of my dear friend Hannah. Like so many times before, she was laying outside her house on a blanket. She welcomed us and we sat together and sang the words “What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and grief to bear. What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer.” It is a moment impressed within my heart. Although Hannah’s body had been destroyed by a tumor, her spirit was beautifully alive. Four days later, I returned to her home and learned that she had passed away. She had gone to be with her God that she loved so faithfully. I wrote these lyrics, in honor of my friend. I believe this was Hannah’s song:
In this darkness, I have seen your face.
In my brokenness, I’ve felt your embrace.
Though all fades away, I have found a place.
In the shadowlands, I’m covered by grace.
Thank you Jesus for following me.
All of my life, your tender-mercies.
Have been my hope. They have set me free.
This, my miracle, I’m loved completely.
In this valley, the path is unclear.
I shall not want. I shall not fear.
My cup overflows. Your Presence is near.
What are the whisperings that I do hear?
O Love, is it you? Raise me from the ashes.
O Love, is it you? Healing my disease.
O Love, is it you? Whose covered my shame.
O Love, it is you- Calling me by name.
I’m going home.
CONTACT
On December 27th, Kenya held its presidential election. Inconsistencies in the counting and reporting of the ballots as well as delays in announcing the results left many people unnerved. After several days of waiting, it was announced that the incumbent president was reelected. Many people, especially the youth, had been promised change by the opposition candidate and began to respond violently by looting, burning homes and buildings and even churches. Neighbor began to fight neighbor based on tribal differences and political lines. To this point, nearly 600 people have lost their lives and over 300,000 men, women and children have been displaced from their homes. As I climbed Mt Kilimanjaro, I lifted my eyes to the mountain to where my help comes from. With each step, I prayed for this broken land of Kenya that I love so much. I let go of what I could not control and asked God to intervene.
At midnight, on the fourth day of trekking, I began the ascent to the summit. Already breathless and exhausted at camp, which lies just over fifteen thousand feet, I wondered whether I would make it to the top of this majestic mountain. Along with thirteen others in our group, I journeyed step by step through the darkness and cold. I could only see as far as the step in front of me; and as I prayed, I felt like God was saying: “This is what life is like. You can only see the step in which you are taking, but I can see it all. The path is steep and you feel as if you will fall, but I am walking with you. Even though you are tired, if you will keep taking the next step, you will make it to the mountain top.”
As I consider life and the troubles that are faced within this world, I am grateful for God’s word that settles my heart saying: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by your name; you are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, nor shall the flame scorch you” (Isaiah 43:1-2). After nearly eight hours of simply taking the next step, the sun rose beautifully and I stood on the roof of Africa.
As I climbed the mountain of Kilimanjaro, God was with me. As I sit in my village threatened by hatred and injustice, it feels as if we are climbing another mountain. It is difficult to see one step in front of us, but God is with us. As I stood last night with a friend, she shared about her family’s home being burned to the ground because of the tribe she was born into. Not one material thing remained spared from the ashes, but she said that God had been gracious to her and protected each member of her family from injury. She expressed that God has walked each step with her during this difficult journey. Please continue to pray for this nation that justice and peace will be restored and a deep healing might begin.
ELI has created an emergency fund to address all of the current needs that have surfaced because of the crisis. If you or anyone you know would like to give towards this fund, they can mail a check to our office (PO Box 67 Upland, CA 91785) and earmark it for the “Kenya emergency fund.”
Going Home
On December 23rd, my Kenyan family and I filled our ambulance with 18 people full and headed out to visit several of our neighbors in need. We took boxes of food and small gifts to celebrate the birth of Christ together. One of our visits was to the home of my dear friend Hannah. Like so many times before, she was laying outside her house on a blanket. She welcomed us and we sat together and sang the words “What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and grief to bear. What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer.” It is a moment impressed within my heart. Although Hannah’s body had been destroyed by a tumor, her spirit was beautifully alive. Four days later, I returned to her home and learned that she had passed away. She had gone to be with her God that she loved so faithfully. I wrote these lyrics, in honor of my friend. I believe this was Hannah’s song:
In this darkness, I have seen your face.
In my brokenness, I’ve felt your embrace.
Though all fades away, I have found a place.
In the shadowlands, I’m covered by grace.
Thank you Jesus for following me.
All of my life, your tender-mercies.
Have been my hope. They have set me free.
This, my miracle, I’m loved completely.
In this valley, the path is unclear.
I shall not want. I shall not fear.
My cup overflows. Your Presence is near.
What are the whisperings that I do hear?
O Love, is it you? Raise me from the ashes.
O Love, is it you? Healing my disease.
O Love, is it you? Whose covered my shame.
O Love, it is you- Calling me by name.
I’m going home.
CONTACT
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Kenya Unrest
I am not sure how many of you received the following email update I sent a few days back... I have received many emails expressing concern over all that is taking place in Kenya right now. I want to say thank you for your much needed prayers and for your willingness to assist in this humanitarian crisis.
I returned to Kipkaren yesterday in the afternoon. It is good to be back home with my Kenyan family. We are trusting God for peace to return to this land. I ask that you continue to pray in the following ways:
- The President of Ghana is currently leading mediations between President Kibaki and the Opposition leader Raila Odinga. Pray for resolution that will be just and the best solution for the people of Kenya.
- The Church of Kenya will stand united- fighting for justice, loving mercy, walking humbly with God.
- Parliament, which is largely divided, is set to open on this coming Tuesday. Please pray for peace.
- There is much healing and reconciliation that needs to occur within communities. Only God can break down the divides between tribes.
- Thousands of families have been displaced. Please pray for safety as they seek refuge until the government decides what to do next. Major relief is needed in the forms of food, medications, blankets, etc.
- Schools are scheduled to re-open on January 15th. Please pray for the safety of these children as they return to school. In addition, please pray for the thousands of displaced children who will not be able to return to school.
- Please pray for continued safety of our 182 children in the children's homes in Kipkaren and Ilula as well as the staff who will be returning to the training centers.
-For those who are HIV+ and displaced, please pray that they will be able to continue with their antiretrovirals, that drug resistance will not develop and that they will be able to get proper nutrition.
Again, I thank you for standing with Kenya in this difficult season. ELI has created an emergency fund to address all of the current needs that have surfaced because of the crisis. If you or anyone you know would like to give towards this fund, they can mail a check to our office (PO Box 67 Upland, CA 91785) and earmark it for the “Kenya emergency fund.”
If you are interested in reading more, I have attached an article from the New York Times that was written by a Kenyan. I think it explains some of the complexities of the situation well.
With much love, Juli
No Country for Old Hatreds
By BINYAVANGA WAINAINA
Published: January 6, 2008
Nairobi, Kenya
THIS thing called Kenya is a strange animal. In the 1960s, the bright young nationalists who took over the country when we got independence from the British believed that their first job was to eradicate “tribalism.” What they really meant, in a way, was that they wanted to eradicate the nations that made up Kenya. It was assumed that the process would end with the birth of a brand-new being: the Kenyan.
Compared with other African nations, Kenya has had significant success with this experiment. But it has not been without its contradictions, though they had never really turned lethal until now.
Our Kenyan identity, so deliberately formed in the test tube of nationalist effort, has over the years been undermined, subtly and not so subtly, by our leaders — men who appealed to our histories and loyalties to win our votes.
You see, the burning houses and the bloody attacks here do not reflect primordial hatreds. They reflect the manipulation of identity for political gain.
So what was different about this election? What brought Kenya’s equilibrium to an end?
Five years ago, we voted for a broad and nationally representative government. Inside this vehicle were the country’s major tribes: the Luo, the Luhya, the Kikuyu, many Kalenjin — all the people now killing one another.
We wanted this arrangement to quickly introduce a new and more inclusive Constitution, deal firmly with corruption and start a process of defining the nation in terms that include everybody.
Tragically, President Mwai Kibaki instead steered a course away from the coalition and cultivated the support of his Kikuyu community. He did a good job rebuilding the civil service and managing the economy, but he did it within a framework that was not sustainable.
When it came time to conduct our most recent election, Raila Odinga had built a movement on the back of President Kibaki’s betrayal of the spirit of 2002. His political party, the Orange Democratic Movement, was the big ethnic tent similar to the one that had first brought President Kibaki to office.
On the day we cast our vote, we thought that our optimism and desire for an inclusive and broad government would prevail. Instead, three days later — after reports that votes were being “cooked” in Kikuyu strongholds, after skirmishes in the room where the results were being announced, after the news media were ejected — Mr. Kibaki was announced the winner and a haphazard swearing-in took place. And Kenya exploded.
Mr. Odinga and President Kibaki are not really ethnic leaders, but in the days since the disputed election they have stoked tribal paranoia and used it to cement electoral loyalty.
Mr. Odinga and his fellow party leaders are now determined to avenge the wrong they believe they have suffered. Sadly, this leadership now appears to believe that the violence spreading across the country might be a valuable bargaining chip.
My further suspicion is that Mr. Odinga wants to sell to Kenyans and the world a sort of Ukrainian “people’s revolution” — where protesters take to the streets and change the order of things, and are seen to be throwing happy pink petals on television, so America can say, ah, the people have spoken.
But rather than matters leading to a popular but peaceful uprising against a flawed election, we are likelier to suffer an escalation of retaliations and a descent to that special machete place that nations rarely recover from.
Yet all is not lost. Nations are built on crises like this. If there is such a thing as Kenya, it should be gathering energy right now. Two leaders can sit down, form a power-sharing agreement and put together a system to handle elections and transition. A Constitution that names and recognizes the tribal nations within our nation, that decentralizes some power and that includes us all in the process is possible.
For 40 years we have been dancing around each other, a gaseous nation circling and tightening. The moment is now to make a solid thing called Kenya.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/06/opinion/06wainaina.html?ex=1200286800&en=d44006ed2ffc41e5&ei=5070&emc=eta1
I returned to Kipkaren yesterday in the afternoon. It is good to be back home with my Kenyan family. We are trusting God for peace to return to this land. I ask that you continue to pray in the following ways:
- The President of Ghana is currently leading mediations between President Kibaki and the Opposition leader Raila Odinga. Pray for resolution that will be just and the best solution for the people of Kenya.
- The Church of Kenya will stand united- fighting for justice, loving mercy, walking humbly with God.
- Parliament, which is largely divided, is set to open on this coming Tuesday. Please pray for peace.
- There is much healing and reconciliation that needs to occur within communities. Only God can break down the divides between tribes.
- Thousands of families have been displaced. Please pray for safety as they seek refuge until the government decides what to do next. Major relief is needed in the forms of food, medications, blankets, etc.
- Schools are scheduled to re-open on January 15th. Please pray for the safety of these children as they return to school. In addition, please pray for the thousands of displaced children who will not be able to return to school.
- Please pray for continued safety of our 182 children in the children's homes in Kipkaren and Ilula as well as the staff who will be returning to the training centers.
-For those who are HIV+ and displaced, please pray that they will be able to continue with their antiretrovirals, that drug resistance will not develop and that they will be able to get proper nutrition.
Again, I thank you for standing with Kenya in this difficult season. ELI has created an emergency fund to address all of the current needs that have surfaced because of the crisis. If you or anyone you know would like to give towards this fund, they can mail a check to our office (PO Box 67 Upland, CA 91785) and earmark it for the “Kenya emergency fund.”
If you are interested in reading more, I have attached an article from the New York Times that was written by a Kenyan. I think it explains some of the complexities of the situation well.
With much love, Juli
No Country for Old Hatreds
By BINYAVANGA WAINAINA
Published: January 6, 2008
Nairobi, Kenya
THIS thing called Kenya is a strange animal. In the 1960s, the bright young nationalists who took over the country when we got independence from the British believed that their first job was to eradicate “tribalism.” What they really meant, in a way, was that they wanted to eradicate the nations that made up Kenya. It was assumed that the process would end with the birth of a brand-new being: the Kenyan.
Compared with other African nations, Kenya has had significant success with this experiment. But it has not been without its contradictions, though they had never really turned lethal until now.
Our Kenyan identity, so deliberately formed in the test tube of nationalist effort, has over the years been undermined, subtly and not so subtly, by our leaders — men who appealed to our histories and loyalties to win our votes.
You see, the burning houses and the bloody attacks here do not reflect primordial hatreds. They reflect the manipulation of identity for political gain.
So what was different about this election? What brought Kenya’s equilibrium to an end?
Five years ago, we voted for a broad and nationally representative government. Inside this vehicle were the country’s major tribes: the Luo, the Luhya, the Kikuyu, many Kalenjin — all the people now killing one another.
We wanted this arrangement to quickly introduce a new and more inclusive Constitution, deal firmly with corruption and start a process of defining the nation in terms that include everybody.
Tragically, President Mwai Kibaki instead steered a course away from the coalition and cultivated the support of his Kikuyu community. He did a good job rebuilding the civil service and managing the economy, but he did it within a framework that was not sustainable.
When it came time to conduct our most recent election, Raila Odinga had built a movement on the back of President Kibaki’s betrayal of the spirit of 2002. His political party, the Orange Democratic Movement, was the big ethnic tent similar to the one that had first brought President Kibaki to office.
On the day we cast our vote, we thought that our optimism and desire for an inclusive and broad government would prevail. Instead, three days later — after reports that votes were being “cooked” in Kikuyu strongholds, after skirmishes in the room where the results were being announced, after the news media were ejected — Mr. Kibaki was announced the winner and a haphazard swearing-in took place. And Kenya exploded.
Mr. Odinga and President Kibaki are not really ethnic leaders, but in the days since the disputed election they have stoked tribal paranoia and used it to cement electoral loyalty.
Mr. Odinga and his fellow party leaders are now determined to avenge the wrong they believe they have suffered. Sadly, this leadership now appears to believe that the violence spreading across the country might be a valuable bargaining chip.
My further suspicion is that Mr. Odinga wants to sell to Kenyans and the world a sort of Ukrainian “people’s revolution” — where protesters take to the streets and change the order of things, and are seen to be throwing happy pink petals on television, so America can say, ah, the people have spoken.
But rather than matters leading to a popular but peaceful uprising against a flawed election, we are likelier to suffer an escalation of retaliations and a descent to that special machete place that nations rarely recover from.
Yet all is not lost. Nations are built on crises like this. If there is such a thing as Kenya, it should be gathering energy right now. Two leaders can sit down, form a power-sharing agreement and put together a system to handle elections and transition. A Constitution that names and recognizes the tribal nations within our nation, that decentralizes some power and that includes us all in the process is possible.
For 40 years we have been dancing around each other, a gaseous nation circling and tightening. The moment is now to make a solid thing called Kenya.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/06/opinion/06wainaina.html?ex=1200286800&en=d44006ed2ffc41e5&ei=5070&emc=eta1
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Hannah
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.
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.
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
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