Last night, I was asked to give a program at a local men’s group. It wasn’t the typical crowd I am used to. I speak mostly for women’s groups or crowds of mixed gender. This was a pleasant variation to my normal speaking experience. I was certainly blessed by a great group of guys who have a heart for their community, their church, and for those in need. It was a good evening. These guys “Get It” in terms of understanding the importance caring and loving those in need. It was a joy to take part in their evening.
After they filled me up with an unexpected dinner of catfish, potatoes, coleslaw, etc, I spoke to them about missions and how we are all called to take part in caring for the least of these. I spoke on how we are told to love our neighbors.
Neighbors. As I child, when I heard the words “Love thy Neighbor,” I thought it meant to be nice to the people living next door. Sometimes growing up, it was hard to love our neighbors because we didn’t see things eye to on the treatment of their pets, children, etc. I was taught that we were told to love them anyway. I thought I understood that command. Although, as I matured, I gained a new understanding of what it actually means. Love Thy Neighbor.
In Luke 25:25-39, we are told of Jesus reminding a man of this command. After Jesus spoke to him, the man looked at Jesus and asked him a question. “And who is my neighbor?” He asked. Have you asked that question lately? Seems like a funny question to ask. “Who is my neighbor?” Is it just the person next door? The person across the street? Yes, it is. However, loving thy neighbor goes beyond than that. Our neighbors are those next door, across the street, and overseas that are in need. Our neighbors are the starving children living in the dump. It’s the mother of 4 lying in bed dying of AIDS, or the man pounding rocks with a hammer for 12 hours a day and making $1 for the day’s work in Africa. Our neighbor is the single mom that lives down the street and struggling to get by. It’s the child at your son’s school that doesn’t have the money to pay for milk as he watches the other children in class, during the milk break, so innocently take their milk for granted. It’s the homeless man sitting at the street light of the busy intersection. It’s the small hungry child desperately trying to nurse off of a mother who has laid dead on the floor of their mud hut for days in Kitale, Kenya. Love thy Neighbor. Our neighbors are everywhere.
The man speaking to Jesus asked him that simple question for a reason. I think he asked that question because he wanted to make sure he got it right and knew the answer wasn’t as simple as most would assume. So, I challenge you to ask. “Who is my neighbor?” May the Lord open our eyes to see those in need around our homes and our world today.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Insanity
Benjamin Franklin once said, "The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results."
I have heard this quote several times in the last week. I like it. I could apply this to several areas of my life right now. Not to say, I am going insane. However, I think we are all guilty of it. Maybe it is finding ourselves doing the one thing we said we wouldn’t do again. Maybe it is avoiding a problem and expecting it to go away.
Today I helped serve lunch at a homeless shelter. 30+ men live in this shelter. Just yesterday 60 people (men, women, and children) were standing in a long line, waiting to receive a meal. The director said that at Thanksgiving, they serve 500. I am sure you have heard many statistics about the homeless. As I scooped one Iowa corn cob after another onto the plates of the needy, that definition of insanity replayed in my head.
Poverty. We all know it is a problem. We have all see the pictures on T.V. We see them on the street, at the stop light, or maybe even have one in our family. We don’t wish this on them, but really don’t know how to fix the problem as a whole, right? We feel bad, but don’t really DO anything about it. Time after time, we hear about it. Maybe we even say a prayer or two. Most of the time we really don’t get involved and don’t reach out to them though. Time after time we avoid it, and expect the problem to just go away. So, here is my question.... Are we insane?
If there is a poor man among your brothers in any of the towns of the land that the LORD your God is giving you, do not be hard-hearted or tight-fisted towards your poor brother. Rather be open-handed and freely lend him whatever he needs. De. 15:7-8
I have heard this quote several times in the last week. I like it. I could apply this to several areas of my life right now. Not to say, I am going insane. However, I think we are all guilty of it. Maybe it is finding ourselves doing the one thing we said we wouldn’t do again. Maybe it is avoiding a problem and expecting it to go away.
Today I helped serve lunch at a homeless shelter. 30+ men live in this shelter. Just yesterday 60 people (men, women, and children) were standing in a long line, waiting to receive a meal. The director said that at Thanksgiving, they serve 500. I am sure you have heard many statistics about the homeless. As I scooped one Iowa corn cob after another onto the plates of the needy, that definition of insanity replayed in my head.
Poverty. We all know it is a problem. We have all see the pictures on T.V. We see them on the street, at the stop light, or maybe even have one in our family. We don’t wish this on them, but really don’t know how to fix the problem as a whole, right? We feel bad, but don’t really DO anything about it. Time after time, we hear about it. Maybe we even say a prayer or two. Most of the time we really don’t get involved and don’t reach out to them though. Time after time we avoid it, and expect the problem to just go away. So, here is my question.... Are we insane?
If there is a poor man among your brothers in any of the towns of the land that the LORD your God is giving you, do not be hard-hearted or tight-fisted towards your poor brother. Rather be open-handed and freely lend him whatever he needs. De. 15:7-8
Monday, August 18, 2008
Shoe Story
Here is a shoe story I wrote that is on Buckner's site. Click the link and check it out if you are interested.
http://www.shoesfororphansouls.org/yp-feetmaker.shtml
http://www.shoesfororphansouls.org/yp-feetmaker.shtml
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Seeing Africa
Iwas told the average income for a family in Ethiopia is $180 a year. In Kenya it is more like, $365 a year. With statistics like this, no wonder there are so many living in the midst of poverty. No wonder children are living on the streets, starving, prostituting for food, and addicted to drugs that take away hunger pains.
I cannot imagine living on an income like this. How do they do it? I realize this is why there are the sky rocketing numbers of orphans. The Bible doesn’t tell us there is a way to end poverty or end the problem of so many children orphaned in the world. It does tell us we are to do something about it. We are to care for those suffering in these circumstances.
In our travels we met people who would ask us to take their picture. This store owner woman was outside and I met her on the street. She came to me and asked me to take her picture. She quickly ran around this shack and popped her head through the window. She was so proud of her shop and wanted people to see it. Why? Did she think it would bring her business? No. She just wanted someone out there to see her. She exists, she is real, and she wants people to see her. I want people to see her too. I want people to see her, to see the homeless man on the street, the crippled street child scooting on the sidewalk, the mother of four bathing her children in the mud puddle and begging passer bys for food. I hope you see them, and you hear the message they are trying to tell you. The message is that they matter. They are just like us, human, and they have needs just like us. They have needs for food, for shelter, for water, for purpose, for love. They are you, they are me, and they are our brothers and sisters.
They are the people of Africa. They are desperately hoping that you notice them. We interviewed a couple groups of women. After we turned off the camera for each group, they both had almost each member raise their hand and say, “Wait, I have something I want to say!” They just so want to be heard.
I always learn so much when I travel over seas. I think the Lord takes me there and rips me from my comfort zone. He speaks to me when I am weak, tired, and for some reason I hear Him more clearly when I am in that place away from my normal everyday life. Maybe this time it was the contrast of smells, sights, and environment in general. Maybe it was the weariness of taking 10 flights in 12 days. Maybe it is what C.S. Lewis says about the how the Lord shouts to us in our pain. He spoke to me in Africa. He told me He needs more of us to be involved. Start by seeing these people. Start by hearing their cries. Pray for them. Serve them. Donate to them. Do something.
I cannot imagine living on an income like this. How do they do it? I realize this is why there are the sky rocketing numbers of orphans. The Bible doesn’t tell us there is a way to end poverty or end the problem of so many children orphaned in the world. It does tell us we are to do something about it. We are to care for those suffering in these circumstances.
In our travels we met people who would ask us to take their picture. This store owner woman was outside and I met her on the street. She came to me and asked me to take her picture. She quickly ran around this shack and popped her head through the window. She was so proud of her shop and wanted people to see it. Why? Did she think it would bring her business? No. She just wanted someone out there to see her. She exists, she is real, and she wants people to see her. I want people to see her too. I want people to see her, to see the homeless man on the street, the crippled street child scooting on the sidewalk, the mother of four bathing her children in the mud puddle and begging passer bys for food. I hope you see them, and you hear the message they are trying to tell you. The message is that they matter. They are just like us, human, and they have needs just like us. They have needs for food, for shelter, for water, for purpose, for love. They are you, they are me, and they are our brothers and sisters.
They are the people of Africa. They are desperately hoping that you notice them. We interviewed a couple groups of women. After we turned off the camera for each group, they both had almost each member raise their hand and say, “Wait, I have something I want to say!” They just so want to be heard.
I always learn so much when I travel over seas. I think the Lord takes me there and rips me from my comfort zone. He speaks to me when I am weak, tired, and for some reason I hear Him more clearly when I am in that place away from my normal everyday life. Maybe this time it was the contrast of smells, sights, and environment in general. Maybe it was the weariness of taking 10 flights in 12 days. Maybe it is what C.S. Lewis says about the how the Lord shouts to us in our pain. He spoke to me in Africa. He told me He needs more of us to be involved. Start by seeing these people. Start by hearing their cries. Pray for them. Serve them. Donate to them. Do something.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Cup of Cold Water
While in Kenya, we visited several sites where generous donors have sponsored waters wells to be built by Buckner international. I have often thought about how important filling this need is. I gained a new understanding after this trip though.
In the book of John, chapter 4, we learn about how Jesus met a Samaritan woman at the well. He met her there at the well, not on her way to or from the well. He met her at the well. He met her there because he wanted to talk to her about thirst. He explained to her there, that anyone who comes to Him will thirst no more. He was speaking of that spiritual thirst we all have. However, we know that He understands we have a physical thirst as well.
On Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, we see that the first section of the pyramid is Physiological Needs (food, water, shelter, and clothing). The day we were driving to a recently built well, we saw children walking to a nearby river to collect water in their plastic jugs. Then we passed two children with plastic jugs along the road. Actually they were in the middle of the road doing something. The moved so we could drive by, and then proceeded to move back to the middle of the road. I looked at them out the back of the truck window. I watched them carefully take their plastic water jugs used for drinking and dip them into a dirty mud puddle. I saw homes that collected rain water in dirty tubs. This water would be the same water they would drink with later. They are all surviving on whatever they can find for water and trying to meet their need to quench thirst.
Buckner has plans to build a community center in one village we visited. The first thing they have done (before the foundation of the building is built) is to dig a well. This well provides water to the entire village. Children stood in line for their turn to fill their plastic jugs with fresh, clean drinking water. These children know that if they go to the where the Christians have built the well, they will receive water that won’t make them sick. They will receive water that won’t cause illness or death in those they love. They will receive water they know will quench their thirst and will be safe. Soon to follow will be a community center that will quench that spiritual thirst they have as well.
Seeing the children getting water from the mud puddle was devastating to me. I was embarrassed to think about the water I waste each day. I waste like most people, I suppose, but it struck my heart with an image that pierced. I started to think not only about how incredibly blessed I am, but how we live our lives while millions out there are drinking water saturated with dirt. I hated the fact they were scooping this water that could make them sick. I hate it with a righteous anger that brings tears to my eyes to even think about.
It is interesting that we hear about things like digging wells in Africa. It sounds like a noble cause. It sounds like a good thing. Until you see children drinking from the water that animals are walking in, cars are driving over, and where flies and mosquitoes are breading, I am not sure the magnitude or importance is so clear. So, I bring back a message to you. The children are thirsty. They thirst for clean water and they thirst for a God some have not yet been introduced to. The message isn’t about a plea to “Go Green” for the environment. It is about reaching out to people. People like you and people like me. They are thirsty and we have an obligation to give them a cup of cold water.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
A Family in Need
I met a family in Kenya that touched my heart deeply. It was a family headed by a young man. He was is an orphan himself, and caring for his four brothers and one sister. Their parents- both deceased. Their father died of cancer and mother died of AIDS. The story is sad enough, but compares in no way to the sadness I saw in their eyes.
They live in a small two room home. The metal roof provides shelter from the rain. It protects them from the elements outside, but not from the pain of the past. As we walked into the home, one from our group flipped the light switch on and off trying to bring some light to the dark room. The young man told us he had no electricity. Not sure a light switch would have brought light to the room. Didn’t matter, the light bulb would have been hidden from the dark cloud in the room anyway.
The kids were dirty and in clothing that was torn and tattered. It was chilly outside and most had on summer clothing. There were a couple pieces of furniture in the first room, but not much. It had the kind of furniture the thrift shops wouldn’t dream of trying to sell. Even they would turn away these pieces. The other room had a garmet bag hanging from the window. This held the clothing for the family. There was a small plate of Ugali sitting in the room. It was the only food I saw in the house. It was rock hard. A small plastic cup sat near by. No water source was in the house. On the floor was a dirty piece of foam. The foam was cut into the shape of a full sized bed, I suppose. (Above Picture) It was on the ground and was so very saturated with dirt and past moisture. This is where they sleep. A T-shirt was placed at the top. I am assuming it served as some sort of pillow.
The children sat so quietly and closely together. These brothers are close and no doubt look out for each other. I smiled at the youngest one. Tried to get him to laugh. Teased him a bit and made a few goofy faces. He sat and stared back with an empty look in his eyes. I suddenly remembered I had some balloons in my pocket. I blew one up for each of the children. They took the balloons and held them close. Not sure if they knew what to do with them. I asked for one back and took it and hit towards one of the boys. It hit him smack in the face. It startled him. I waited for the response….waited…waited..and there it was. A smile and giggle. The boys then started hitting the balloons back and forth. It was as if that had been the signal that it was ok to have fun. It felt like Christmas for a few minutes. The excitement of a new toy, playing and forgetting about the troubles of your world. Who knew the simplicity of balloons could bring such joy?
We were having fun with the balloons, and I had a thought. I should blow up one more balloon for each of the boys. Then, we could have a room full of balloons in the air. That would be fun! I started blowing the balloons up and handed them each a new balloon. They each took the balloon and suddenly ran to the garment bag and stuffed the balloons in it. They patted it as if to make sure the balloons would be safe. They were saving those balloons as if they were prized toys that they wouldn’t want to use up too quickly. I of course let them do it, but it made me sad.
One of the boys had a torn shirt with an American flag pattern on it. I couldn't help but think how his life would be different if he was here in the US. I think about the family everyday. Are they warm? Did they eat today? What will they play with after those cheap balloons pop? Is their house dry? Do they still have that sad look on their faces? I pray for them and ask you to do the same. The pain they have endured is no doubt hard to carry on those tiny shoulders. The oldest child and caregiver to the family said he dreams and wishes for his brothers to be able to go to school in their future. I join him in that prayer and hope they all will grow to be close to Him and to know and serve Him well. I pray they will have the joy in their heart that they so deserve. I ask you to join me in that prayer for them as well.
They live in a small two room home. The metal roof provides shelter from the rain. It protects them from the elements outside, but not from the pain of the past. As we walked into the home, one from our group flipped the light switch on and off trying to bring some light to the dark room. The young man told us he had no electricity. Not sure a light switch would have brought light to the room. Didn’t matter, the light bulb would have been hidden from the dark cloud in the room anyway.
The kids were dirty and in clothing that was torn and tattered. It was chilly outside and most had on summer clothing. There were a couple pieces of furniture in the first room, but not much. It had the kind of furniture the thrift shops wouldn’t dream of trying to sell. Even they would turn away these pieces. The other room had a garmet bag hanging from the window. This held the clothing for the family. There was a small plate of Ugali sitting in the room. It was the only food I saw in the house. It was rock hard. A small plastic cup sat near by. No water source was in the house. On the floor was a dirty piece of foam. The foam was cut into the shape of a full sized bed, I suppose. (Above Picture) It was on the ground and was so very saturated with dirt and past moisture. This is where they sleep. A T-shirt was placed at the top. I am assuming it served as some sort of pillow.
The children sat so quietly and closely together. These brothers are close and no doubt look out for each other. I smiled at the youngest one. Tried to get him to laugh. Teased him a bit and made a few goofy faces. He sat and stared back with an empty look in his eyes. I suddenly remembered I had some balloons in my pocket. I blew one up for each of the children. They took the balloons and held them close. Not sure if they knew what to do with them. I asked for one back and took it and hit towards one of the boys. It hit him smack in the face. It startled him. I waited for the response….waited…waited..and there it was. A smile and giggle. The boys then started hitting the balloons back and forth. It was as if that had been the signal that it was ok to have fun. It felt like Christmas for a few minutes. The excitement of a new toy, playing and forgetting about the troubles of your world. Who knew the simplicity of balloons could bring such joy?
We were having fun with the balloons, and I had a thought. I should blow up one more balloon for each of the boys. Then, we could have a room full of balloons in the air. That would be fun! I started blowing the balloons up and handed them each a new balloon. They each took the balloon and suddenly ran to the garment bag and stuffed the balloons in it. They patted it as if to make sure the balloons would be safe. They were saving those balloons as if they were prized toys that they wouldn’t want to use up too quickly. I of course let them do it, but it made me sad.
One of the boys had a torn shirt with an American flag pattern on it. I couldn't help but think how his life would be different if he was here in the US. I think about the family everyday. Are they warm? Did they eat today? What will they play with after those cheap balloons pop? Is their house dry? Do they still have that sad look on their faces? I pray for them and ask you to do the same. The pain they have endured is no doubt hard to carry on those tiny shoulders. The oldest child and caregiver to the family said he dreams and wishes for his brothers to be able to go to school in their future. I join him in that prayer and hope they all will grow to be close to Him and to know and serve Him well. I pray they will have the joy in their heart that they so deserve. I ask you to join me in that prayer for them as well.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
The BCC
For the third time in three years, I was blessed with the opportunity to see the children at the Baptist Children’s Center near Nairobi, Kenya. These are kids that I spent a week with at a camp in 2006. I was able to get to know several of them quite well. I love them so much.
The center has expanded and grown so much in the last several years. God is at work there and is working mightily through the staff there as well as the children. One of their goals is to have a dentist on staff. They have a doctor that serves the children at the center and children in the community. They even have a room with the dental patient chair and everything. They just need a dentist. Seeing the children, the dental needs are so very apparent. I pray they find a God serving dentist soon.
Many of you remember the post election violence in Kenya in December. The children from the BCC were moved to alternate homes and locations during the unrest. I remember praying for the children and staff so diligently, only just a few months ago. I remember shedding tears of concern for their lives. People were being slaughtered in the streets due to tribal wars. I prayed these people, that I have such a love for, wouldn’t be killed.
The Lord was so gracious to answer my prayers. None of the children or staff were harmed during this time of trial in their country. I was so thankful to eventually hear this news. However, seeing them on July 24, and being able to hug them and feel them in my arms, was a joy that is hard to explain. To hear your prayers have been answered is one thing. To see and physically feel your answered prayers is incredible. They are safe, alive, and well. I am so thankful.
At the end of the school day the women in the sewing class end the day with a song of prayer. We caught the tail end of it. To this day, I have no idea what they were saying. I don’t know what the words mean. I decided that hearing them sing must be what it is like to hear angels singing. The song cut through me and spoke to my spirit. Again, not sure what they were saying, but my heart was singing right along with them.
During the camp in 2006, I was a leader for the “Blue Tigers” group. That was the group of the youngest kids at camp. Those little ones are no longer little. The boys are turning into young men. The girls are becoming beautiful ladies. I am so proud of them. They have been through so much, seen the unspeakable, and lived to shine through it all. I asked one of my girls what she would want people to know about her. She said, “ I want people to know I am an orphan and I need them to pray for me.” Well, now you know. Her name is Lavendar. Pray for her.
The center has expanded and grown so much in the last several years. God is at work there and is working mightily through the staff there as well as the children. One of their goals is to have a dentist on staff. They have a doctor that serves the children at the center and children in the community. They even have a room with the dental patient chair and everything. They just need a dentist. Seeing the children, the dental needs are so very apparent. I pray they find a God serving dentist soon.
Many of you remember the post election violence in Kenya in December. The children from the BCC were moved to alternate homes and locations during the unrest. I remember praying for the children and staff so diligently, only just a few months ago. I remember shedding tears of concern for their lives. People were being slaughtered in the streets due to tribal wars. I prayed these people, that I have such a love for, wouldn’t be killed.
The Lord was so gracious to answer my prayers. None of the children or staff were harmed during this time of trial in their country. I was so thankful to eventually hear this news. However, seeing them on July 24, and being able to hug them and feel them in my arms, was a joy that is hard to explain. To hear your prayers have been answered is one thing. To see and physically feel your answered prayers is incredible. They are safe, alive, and well. I am so thankful.
At the end of the school day the women in the sewing class end the day with a song of prayer. We caught the tail end of it. To this day, I have no idea what they were saying. I don’t know what the words mean. I decided that hearing them sing must be what it is like to hear angels singing. The song cut through me and spoke to my spirit. Again, not sure what they were saying, but my heart was singing right along with them.
During the camp in 2006, I was a leader for the “Blue Tigers” group. That was the group of the youngest kids at camp. Those little ones are no longer little. The boys are turning into young men. The girls are becoming beautiful ladies. I am so proud of them. They have been through so much, seen the unspeakable, and lived to shine through it all. I asked one of my girls what she would want people to know about her. She said, “ I want people to know I am an orphan and I need them to pray for me.” Well, now you know. Her name is Lavendar. Pray for her.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Kitale
About one year ago, I made my first visit to Kitale, Kenya. I was privileged to be a part of a modern day Fishes and Loaves story in that small town with the shoes we passed out with Shoes for Orphan Souls. This year, I was back to capture stories of need and how God is working there with the children of the community.
The children screamed as we pulled up in the truck. We saw elbow nudges from classmate to classmate in the school. We heard whispers of “Munzungu” (White Man) between the children. They were excited to see us and we were excited to see them. The younger ones were afraid of us Munzungu. That was our first strike. Strike two was that we had cameras. The video camera was specifically scary until they warmed up to it.
The children soon welcomed us with hugs, tugs on our arms, and were eventually playing outside with us on the playground. I started blowing up balloons and letting them blow away in the wind. There was a group of about 50 kids eagerly waiting for me to blow the balloons up and release it. They would wait and then scream and run after the balloons. It was such a cool moment watching them scream with joy.
We interviewed a couple of children and staff members. I asked one staff member to tell me of a story that was particularly touching and that would illustrate what kind of past these children have. She told me of a story of one child there at the school. The little girl was young. She lived with her mother alone in Kitale. When her mother died, the child was too young to understand what happened. The child, had been nursing from her mother at the time. When someone eventually found the mother and child, the woman had been dead for three whole days. The child was still trying to nurse from her dead mother’s body.
So many of these children in Africa have been through experiences that you and I can’t imagine. Yet, they still have love and joy in their soul. We can learn so much from them. They have a resiliency and level of faith that most of us don’t. A Kenyan friend who works with orphans there told me something on this trip. “Americans just don’t have the same kind of faith we do here in Africa. We have to pray and have faith about everything. Those in the US put their faith in money, doctors, medicine, and material things to take care of them. We don’t have those things. All we have is faith. We know it works because we live it each day.” He was giving me advice on something I was worried about. He asked me, “Why don’t you just pray about it and have faith that the Lord will take care of it?”
I feel hurt for the children because of what they have had to endure. However, in so many ways, I see that they “get it” so much better than we do. They forgive easier than we do. They love more openly than we do. They cherish each day they are given to live. It's funny how we go with the plan to teach them, and come back having been taught. We have so much to learn.
The children screamed as we pulled up in the truck. We saw elbow nudges from classmate to classmate in the school. We heard whispers of “Munzungu” (White Man) between the children. They were excited to see us and we were excited to see them. The younger ones were afraid of us Munzungu. That was our first strike. Strike two was that we had cameras. The video camera was specifically scary until they warmed up to it.
The children soon welcomed us with hugs, tugs on our arms, and were eventually playing outside with us on the playground. I started blowing up balloons and letting them blow away in the wind. There was a group of about 50 kids eagerly waiting for me to blow the balloons up and release it. They would wait and then scream and run after the balloons. It was such a cool moment watching them scream with joy.
We interviewed a couple of children and staff members. I asked one staff member to tell me of a story that was particularly touching and that would illustrate what kind of past these children have. She told me of a story of one child there at the school. The little girl was young. She lived with her mother alone in Kitale. When her mother died, the child was too young to understand what happened. The child, had been nursing from her mother at the time. When someone eventually found the mother and child, the woman had been dead for three whole days. The child was still trying to nurse from her dead mother’s body.
So many of these children in Africa have been through experiences that you and I can’t imagine. Yet, they still have love and joy in their soul. We can learn so much from them. They have a resiliency and level of faith that most of us don’t. A Kenyan friend who works with orphans there told me something on this trip. “Americans just don’t have the same kind of faith we do here in Africa. We have to pray and have faith about everything. Those in the US put their faith in money, doctors, medicine, and material things to take care of them. We don’t have those things. All we have is faith. We know it works because we live it each day.” He was giving me advice on something I was worried about. He asked me, “Why don’t you just pray about it and have faith that the Lord will take care of it?”
I feel hurt for the children because of what they have had to endure. However, in so many ways, I see that they “get it” so much better than we do. They forgive easier than we do. They love more openly than we do. They cherish each day they are given to live. It's funny how we go with the plan to teach them, and come back having been taught. We have so much to learn.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Made For Another World
"If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world." -C.S. Lewis
My heart started to pound, hands began to sweat, and heat from deep within crawled out of and up my face. The footsteps got closer and closer. And then of course, the feet were at the side of the bed. It didn’t seem to matter that I prayed for the feet to move another direction. They always made their way to my bed anyway. The smell of alcohol was next, and then came the snake bite feeling on my arm. Right about at this time fear was at its worst. Nothing but panic sets in at this point. This scene was all too familiar to me in my childhood.
I am a former “sick kid.” You know the kind. There is one in every class. One child that is always sick, and always in the hospital for something. That was me. In the hospital way too many times as a child. I think it totaled 9 or 10 times by the time I was in fourth grade. And the worst was the scene described above, leading up to the nurse coming in to give you the IV.
Maybe that is why my heart broke for the child I saw in Kenya that warm sunny day. Maybe that is why I couldn’t help but shove my camera to the side when I saw her. I recognized the fear in her eyes. I felt it in the air. I knew exactly what she was feeling. She sat in the clinic with her father at her side. Been there. Done that. Many a time, my father and mother sat on the bed and held my hand during the IV procedure. Her father held hand and gave her a few quick smiles as the Dr. came closer.
What was her story? Why was she here? The details of her story are a mystery to me. I do however know she had Malaria, and was VERY sick because of it. Approximately 3 million people die each year due to malaria. The fog in my mind lifted briefly as I had a thought. I suddenly feared she might be grouped in that statistic. Her fever was high and the Dr. said it was very serious. The righteous anger in me boiled. This child is not just a number or a statistic. She is a precious little girl with limitless potential. I couldn’t help but think about how inexpensive mosquito nets are. Would the $10 we have each no doubt spent on a fast food recently, have saved her life if it was spent on a net instead? Probably.
The Dr. at the clinic had the bitter sweet task of piercing the little girl’s skin with that needle and causing pain to shoot up her arm. The medicine might help her. It might save her life. We hope. We Pray so. Although, the pain and sin of the world still hurts, and she is too young to understand it. She started to cry. Her father bent down to say something to her. I was relieved he was there to comfort her. He abruptly and in a firm voice, barked something in Swahili towards her. I suddenly realized he was scolding her for starting to cry. He wasn’t smiling anymore. She took a deep breath. Her chest bounced up and down as she tried to shove the cry down deep within her chest. I wanted to cry for her.
If I were her, I would have been crushed. Life is different in Kenya though. These children are raised to withstand and be strong against pain. Pain, it’s a part of everyday life here. Isn’t her father just doing what he has to do to prepare her for the life of a woman in Kenya? Watching her on the hospital bed was like looking into a mirror of my childhood. I guess it was the motherly side of me that just wanted to jump in and hold her, letting her cry as long as she needed.
Life on earth is sometimes unfair. God never said it would be fair. I long for children to be allowed to be just be kids. Instead, these children are in conditions where they have to be strong, grow up quickly, and learn that pain, suffering, and death are just an everyday part of life. In a land where so many watch their parents die of AIDs, their brothers and sisters die of Malaria, and the hope of living beyond 50 years old is considered miraculous, fairness seems like something out of a fairy tale.
My heart started to pound, hands began to sweat, and heat from deep within crawled out of and up my face. The footsteps got closer and closer. And then of course, the feet were at the side of the bed. It didn’t seem to matter that I prayed for the feet to move another direction. They always made their way to my bed anyway. The smell of alcohol was next, and then came the snake bite feeling on my arm. Right about at this time fear was at its worst. Nothing but panic sets in at this point. This scene was all too familiar to me in my childhood.
I am a former “sick kid.” You know the kind. There is one in every class. One child that is always sick, and always in the hospital for something. That was me. In the hospital way too many times as a child. I think it totaled 9 or 10 times by the time I was in fourth grade. And the worst was the scene described above, leading up to the nurse coming in to give you the IV.
Maybe that is why my heart broke for the child I saw in Kenya that warm sunny day. Maybe that is why I couldn’t help but shove my camera to the side when I saw her. I recognized the fear in her eyes. I felt it in the air. I knew exactly what she was feeling. She sat in the clinic with her father at her side. Been there. Done that. Many a time, my father and mother sat on the bed and held my hand during the IV procedure. Her father held hand and gave her a few quick smiles as the Dr. came closer.
What was her story? Why was she here? The details of her story are a mystery to me. I do however know she had Malaria, and was VERY sick because of it. Approximately 3 million people die each year due to malaria. The fog in my mind lifted briefly as I had a thought. I suddenly feared she might be grouped in that statistic. Her fever was high and the Dr. said it was very serious. The righteous anger in me boiled. This child is not just a number or a statistic. She is a precious little girl with limitless potential. I couldn’t help but think about how inexpensive mosquito nets are. Would the $10 we have each no doubt spent on a fast food recently, have saved her life if it was spent on a net instead? Probably.
The Dr. at the clinic had the bitter sweet task of piercing the little girl’s skin with that needle and causing pain to shoot up her arm. The medicine might help her. It might save her life. We hope. We Pray so. Although, the pain and sin of the world still hurts, and she is too young to understand it. She started to cry. Her father bent down to say something to her. I was relieved he was there to comfort her. He abruptly and in a firm voice, barked something in Swahili towards her. I suddenly realized he was scolding her for starting to cry. He wasn’t smiling anymore. She took a deep breath. Her chest bounced up and down as she tried to shove the cry down deep within her chest. I wanted to cry for her.
If I were her, I would have been crushed. Life is different in Kenya though. These children are raised to withstand and be strong against pain. Pain, it’s a part of everyday life here. Isn’t her father just doing what he has to do to prepare her for the life of a woman in Kenya? Watching her on the hospital bed was like looking into a mirror of my childhood. I guess it was the motherly side of me that just wanted to jump in and hold her, letting her cry as long as she needed.
Life on earth is sometimes unfair. God never said it would be fair. I long for children to be allowed to be just be kids. Instead, these children are in conditions where they have to be strong, grow up quickly, and learn that pain, suffering, and death are just an everyday part of life. In a land where so many watch their parents die of AIDs, their brothers and sisters die of Malaria, and the hope of living beyond 50 years old is considered miraculous, fairness seems like something out of a fairy tale.
I find myself a desire for innocent children to never be in pain and to not experience suffering. I pray that one day I will meet that little girl again in a world that has no pain…the world and heaven we were made for. I understand the quote above from C.S. Lewis so well after serving on the mission field with orphans.
The singer Bono once said, “Where you live should not determine whether you live or whether you die.” I agree. The children in Africa are dying. It’s not because they did something wrong or made a poor choice. It is simply because they live in Africa. Their screams from the grave and from the hospital beds around the land cry out. They cry for change…they cry for help…they cry for us to take action.
Korogocho Slum
I stepped out of the van to a familiar place, the Korogocho slum. It is a place I have visited a few times before. The kids were, as usual, running up to the vehicle chanting, “How are you? How are you?” That chant is music to my ears. It sounds like a sweet angelic melody. Hard to explain.
I stepped out of the van and took a quick glance at the people and vultures (almost human like in size) living in the garbage dump nearby. This site is always shocking to me, but is as normal to the children as us seeing the neighbor mow the lawn with his John Deere Tractor. They don’t even notice the scavenging going on just a few feet away.
I soon realized I had about ten children tugging on my arms. “How are you?! How are you?!” One little girl was standing directly in front of me. She was pulling on my arm the hardest. Ironically enough, she was probably the smallest child in that group. I bent down to eye level with her and said told her, “I am well, how are you?” in Swahili. She immediately wrapped her arms around me and gave me the biggest hug ever. It was amazing how she fit just right in my arms. It was like that last jigsaw piece being placed in the puzzle. Wow. She was lovely. She pulled away just as I was admiring how perfect this little girl was. She smiled from ear to ear. Her front teeth were black and rotten through and through. Yes, she was perfect even though her teeth were rotting out of her face. She was beautiful. I don’t have a picture of her, but trust me, she looks like a beautiful masterpiece of art.
The school in Korogocho is like a light in a dark room. It is a place of sanctuary and heaven in the pit of darkness. The children play jacks with rocks on the sidewalk, play on a rusted swing for entertainment, eat bowls of beans for lunch, and are so thankful for these luxuries. They live in the slums and would normally not have such blessings at home. Most would not eat at all if they did not go to school.
The school is growing but cannot nearly serve all the children in need in the slum that is built on the old city dump. They certainly have their work cut out for them. They have a school for the younger children and a beauty salon and wood working training center for older students. Hope comes in different forms. In this case, it comes in the form of a school, with an amazing staff, in the midst of the slums of Kenya. Korogocho. Once you visit, you will never be the same.
I stepped out of the van and took a quick glance at the people and vultures (almost human like in size) living in the garbage dump nearby. This site is always shocking to me, but is as normal to the children as us seeing the neighbor mow the lawn with his John Deere Tractor. They don’t even notice the scavenging going on just a few feet away.
I soon realized I had about ten children tugging on my arms. “How are you?! How are you?!” One little girl was standing directly in front of me. She was pulling on my arm the hardest. Ironically enough, she was probably the smallest child in that group. I bent down to eye level with her and said told her, “I am well, how are you?” in Swahili. She immediately wrapped her arms around me and gave me the biggest hug ever. It was amazing how she fit just right in my arms. It was like that last jigsaw piece being placed in the puzzle. Wow. She was lovely. She pulled away just as I was admiring how perfect this little girl was. She smiled from ear to ear. Her front teeth were black and rotten through and through. Yes, she was perfect even though her teeth were rotting out of her face. She was beautiful. I don’t have a picture of her, but trust me, she looks like a beautiful masterpiece of art.
The school in Korogocho is like a light in a dark room. It is a place of sanctuary and heaven in the pit of darkness. The children play jacks with rocks on the sidewalk, play on a rusted swing for entertainment, eat bowls of beans for lunch, and are so thankful for these luxuries. They live in the slums and would normally not have such blessings at home. Most would not eat at all if they did not go to school.
The school is growing but cannot nearly serve all the children in need in the slum that is built on the old city dump. They certainly have their work cut out for them. They have a school for the younger children and a beauty salon and wood working training center for older students. Hope comes in different forms. In this case, it comes in the form of a school, with an amazing staff, in the midst of the slums of Kenya. Korogocho. Once you visit, you will never be the same.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
The Widow and the Orphan
In James 1:27 we are told to care for the orphan and widow. This is a story that calls for prayer and support for a woman of great strength and endurance. This woman (top picture), a widow, cares for an orphan as well. The child happens to be her grandchild. Her story is not like any normal story of our typical family in the US. Her daughter, the mother of the child this woman cares for, died of AIDS. The child, is HIV positive.
This woman told of a story that was similar to others we spoke with. We were told of the poor housing conditions of so many homes these women lived in. This woman told of how her heart ached when her daughter died. She couldn’t keep her daughter’s body dry from the rain that came in from the holes in the roof of her home. She just wanted to keep her dead daughter’s body dry. She couldn’t.
Now she is the foster mother to her grandchild. She does her best to provide for her grandchild that is infected with a disease that has become epidemic in size for Africa, HIV. She has a story that is not uncommon for so many in Africa. Grandmothers caring for their children’s children and even they are sick with HIV. Can you imagine the courage it takes for her each day?
We went to a building and were told that a “few” foster care families were invited to come and meet us and to be interviewed. When we arrived, we walked into a room of over 1,000 people! I tried my best to shake as many hands as possible. I wanted to meet and thank each one of them for what they do. It was impossible to meet everyone. I pray they all realize how they are respected for what they do each day for those children. The pictures above are from this crowd of foster parents and orphan children.
This woman told of a story that was similar to others we spoke with. We were told of the poor housing conditions of so many homes these women lived in. This woman told of how her heart ached when her daughter died. She couldn’t keep her daughter’s body dry from the rain that came in from the holes in the roof of her home. She just wanted to keep her dead daughter’s body dry. She couldn’t.
Now she is the foster mother to her grandchild. She does her best to provide for her grandchild that is infected with a disease that has become epidemic in size for Africa, HIV. She has a story that is not uncommon for so many in Africa. Grandmothers caring for their children’s children and even they are sick with HIV. Can you imagine the courage it takes for her each day?
We went to a building and were told that a “few” foster care families were invited to come and meet us and to be interviewed. When we arrived, we walked into a room of over 1,000 people! I tried my best to shake as many hands as possible. I wanted to meet and thank each one of them for what they do. It was impossible to meet everyone. I pray they all realize how they are respected for what they do each day for those children. The pictures above are from this crowd of foster parents and orphan children.
Monday, August 4, 2008
The Shoe School
Bright Hope Ministry offers many programs to the people of Ethiopia. Education, training on trades, etc are being implemented and flourishing in the lives of the needy. We were blessed to go to one of these places. Here young women learn how to sew and to make shoes.
The shoes are quite nice, and are made with such care and perfection. The students had a sense of pride when showing us how they made the shoes. I wondered where the women would be if they weren’t here. Would they be prostitutes like so many of their peers? Would the one young man there be on the streets shining shoes or sniffing glue to stop his hunger pains?
I was so impressed with the quality of the shoes and with the shoe makers that I bought a pair myself. I wasn’t going to at first because when I inquired about it, it sounded as if customers had to order a pair to be made. However, it just happened they had a pair of sandals in my size. I really didn’t care how much they would cost. I would have paid just as much as a pair would cost in the US, if not more. Can you guess how much they charge for the shoes? Three dollars.
I pray for these girls. What is it about them that causes them to captivate my mind? Is it their innocence? Is it their courage? Their joy? Is it the fact that I look at them and realize that could be me? I could have been born in that country and I could be fearing predators on the street as I walk to and from school. I could be working for less than a dollar a day. Maybe it is the fact that I wasn't, that I feel like I should tell their story so others will pray for them too. I thought a lot about them while flying home. I prayed they would avoid the dangers of the street while walking to and from the shoe store. These girls were so sweet. They had an innocence about them that was so endearing. They were so excited to help me find a pair of shoes that fit. They took pride in finding a pair that would fit my feet just right. They did a great job. I haven’t worn the shoes yet. I don’t want to mark them up. They seem too special to wear for some reason. My three dollars shoes. Worth more than you could put a dollar value on really. Made in a work space no larger than a picnic table. It was humbling to see God at work through these young women. May He bless them abundantly.
The shoes are quite nice, and are made with such care and perfection. The students had a sense of pride when showing us how they made the shoes. I wondered where the women would be if they weren’t here. Would they be prostitutes like so many of their peers? Would the one young man there be on the streets shining shoes or sniffing glue to stop his hunger pains?
I was so impressed with the quality of the shoes and with the shoe makers that I bought a pair myself. I wasn’t going to at first because when I inquired about it, it sounded as if customers had to order a pair to be made. However, it just happened they had a pair of sandals in my size. I really didn’t care how much they would cost. I would have paid just as much as a pair would cost in the US, if not more. Can you guess how much they charge for the shoes? Three dollars.
I pray for these girls. What is it about them that causes them to captivate my mind? Is it their innocence? Is it their courage? Their joy? Is it the fact that I look at them and realize that could be me? I could have been born in that country and I could be fearing predators on the street as I walk to and from school. I could be working for less than a dollar a day. Maybe it is the fact that I wasn't, that I feel like I should tell their story so others will pray for them too. I thought a lot about them while flying home. I prayed they would avoid the dangers of the street while walking to and from the shoe store. These girls were so sweet. They had an innocence about them that was so endearing. They were so excited to help me find a pair of shoes that fit. They took pride in finding a pair that would fit my feet just right. They did a great job. I haven’t worn the shoes yet. I don’t want to mark them up. They seem too special to wear for some reason. My three dollars shoes. Worth more than you could put a dollar value on really. Made in a work space no larger than a picnic table. It was humbling to see God at work through these young women. May He bless them abundantly.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Traditional Food
Over the next week or so, I will be adding a post each day with thoughts and stories about the trip. I know my last post was a little on the heavy side. I thought I would lighten the mood up a little bit with today's post. Here are some fun little tid bits from the trip.
In Ethiopia, the traditional and most popular food is Injera. It is a sponge bread that you tear pieces off with your fingers. You then put sauces of meat, cheese, and/or beans in the middle of it. When you tear a piece off, you grab a portion of your choice sauce, roll it in a ball, and stick the whole piece in your mouth. A good injera eater gets it in their mouth in one bite and doesn’t have any sauce running down their chin afterwards. We had this traditional food a couple of times. My favorite injera stuffing is chicken, beef, or beans. Although, I will admit, the mutton wasn’t all that bad.
It is a tradition that when you care about the person you are eating with, you feed them the injera you roll in your hand. People at one location were feeding us the injera from their plate. They put the handful of bread in your mouth for you and hand feed you. The pictures above are the injera on plates. The injera filling was poured in the middle of the plate.
In Kenya, Sugar Cane is very popular. Kitale, Kenya is a farming community of sugarcane. Everywhere you go, people are eating sugarcane. Bicycle riders are chewing on it as they ride, children are sitting along the street with it, the store owners are selling it. Of course we had to get some! Here is a picture of me trying Sugarcane for the first time. It’s really good! It is pretty rich. There is no way I would want an entire stock of it. I had a few bites and was done. You bite off a piece, suck out the juice and then spit out the fiber like cane pieces.
The Massi tribe men in Kenya have some of their own traditions as well. For example, the men drink cow’s blood and cow’s milk every morning. I did NOT take part in trying out this tradition, but did find it interesting!!
In Kenya, Sugar Cane is very popular. Kitale, Kenya is a farming community of sugarcane. Everywhere you go, people are eating sugarcane. Bicycle riders are chewing on it as they ride, children are sitting along the street with it, the store owners are selling it. Of course we had to get some! Here is a picture of me trying Sugarcane for the first time. It’s really good! It is pretty rich. There is no way I would want an entire stock of it. I had a few bites and was done. You bite off a piece, suck out the juice and then spit out the fiber like cane pieces.
The Massi tribe men in Kenya have some of their own traditions as well. For example, the men drink cow’s blood and cow’s milk every morning. I did NOT take part in trying out this tradition, but did find it interesting!!
Friday, August 1, 2008
Get Out of Jail Free Card
Some of you may have heard of our little “Adventure” with the Ethiopian police. On Monday, July 21st, we were on our way to the village of Bantu. It was going to be a two hour drive, so we took off in the morning to have plenty of time at the site and to get back by dark. Little did we know, our day would be far from what we had planned.
Ever been at the wrong place at the wrong time? I think we all have. This seemingly ordinary Monday, was far from that for our group. It was about to be one of those wrong place- wrong time moments for us. We were filming from the truck in the city of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. The streets were crowded and providing the perfect scene of a day in the life of Ethiopia. Our camera man happened to spot a policeman, with the camera, in the crowd directing traffic. He instantly told us to pull over.
To make a long story short, that day there was a high profile court case going on near where we were. The case was very controversial and the defendant had some Islamic ties. Little did we know the crowd was infiltrated with undercover policeman, FBI, and intelligence officers. They had seen us filming and decided we were a part of the media covering the case. It was assumed and decided that we were filming for Al Jezeera. Of course we weren’t, and we denied any part in this. They were not happy. After we were questioned on the street and a large crowd began to form, we were taken “down town.” In more clear terms, we were taken to the police station to be questioned further.
We like to call this experience “Technically Detained But Not Arrested.” After several hours of being held and questioned, we were released. One of the undercover FBI policemen who was a witness in the crowd to situation, talked to me a bit. He told me “You are lucky you are American.” I asked him why. He then said, “If you were Middle Eastern, you would be here a long time for what happened.” I responded and said, “A long time as in days?” He threw his head back and laughed. He then looked at me very seriously and said, “No, months.”
We are all indeed thankful to be American and are thankful for that “Get Out of Jail Free Card” the Lord so graciously gave us. He also gave us a calmness, peace, and a sense of humor throughout the whole ordeal. After about four hours of being at the police station, we were allowed to leave. We laugh about the whole experience, but it could have been very serious had they not eventually believed our intentions for filming.
Ever been at the wrong place at the wrong time? I think we all have. This seemingly ordinary Monday, was far from that for our group. It was about to be one of those wrong place- wrong time moments for us. We were filming from the truck in the city of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. The streets were crowded and providing the perfect scene of a day in the life of Ethiopia. Our camera man happened to spot a policeman, with the camera, in the crowd directing traffic. He instantly told us to pull over.
To make a long story short, that day there was a high profile court case going on near where we were. The case was very controversial and the defendant had some Islamic ties. Little did we know the crowd was infiltrated with undercover policeman, FBI, and intelligence officers. They had seen us filming and decided we were a part of the media covering the case. It was assumed and decided that we were filming for Al Jezeera. Of course we weren’t, and we denied any part in this. They were not happy. After we were questioned on the street and a large crowd began to form, we were taken “down town.” In more clear terms, we were taken to the police station to be questioned further.
We like to call this experience “Technically Detained But Not Arrested.” After several hours of being held and questioned, we were released. One of the undercover FBI policemen who was a witness in the crowd to situation, talked to me a bit. He told me “You are lucky you are American.” I asked him why. He then said, “If you were Middle Eastern, you would be here a long time for what happened.” I responded and said, “A long time as in days?” He threw his head back and laughed. He then looked at me very seriously and said, “No, months.”
We are all indeed thankful to be American and are thankful for that “Get Out of Jail Free Card” the Lord so graciously gave us. He also gave us a calmness, peace, and a sense of humor throughout the whole ordeal. After about four hours of being at the police station, we were allowed to leave. We laugh about the whole experience, but it could have been very serious had they not eventually believed our intentions for filming.
After a stop for a bite to eat, we were on our way to Bantu. We agreed that we had all just been through one strange experience. We felt frustration more than anything because most of our day had been wasted at the station. However, we then realized that maybe God had worked in a way to keep us from something dangerous on the way to Bantu. He works in mysterious ways. I do know that now I can joke and say, “I’ve never done any time in jail…oh, except that time I spent in the Ethiopian jail in July of ‘08!” The group picture is our pic of us enjoying our freedom after the release!
Eventually, we made it to Bantu. The beauty of the land was great, but the children were even more breathtaking. Here is a picture of one little girl I met. She is so beautiful, isn’t she? Some of the children here walked around half naked. All were very dirty, and most seemed as if they had NEVER owned or worn a pair of shoes. Bright Hope and Buckner are building a community center and school there. In Jeremiah 29:11, we are told that the Lord has a plan for each of us, one for hope and a future. Hope is in the future of the children in Bantu. If you look closely, you can even see it in this little girl’s eyes. Oh how I love to see hope in the eyes of children!
Meeting this little girl and holding her in my arms was the most exciting part of the day. My arms were left damp from her wet and dirty pants. My eyes left moist due to the mist that formed when I walked away and said goodbye. Handing out balloons and “Mastika” (Chewing Gum) to the group of children there proved to be more heartwarming than I could imagine and made the entire day’s troubles worth it for some reason. Right before we left the sun started to go down. Not before the Lord painted an amazing scene in the sky. The sun's rays were shining down as if to pour out blessings over the village of Bantu. He is at work there. We certainly serve an awesome God.
Meeting this little girl and holding her in my arms was the most exciting part of the day. My arms were left damp from her wet and dirty pants. My eyes left moist due to the mist that formed when I walked away and said goodbye. Handing out balloons and “Mastika” (Chewing Gum) to the group of children there proved to be more heartwarming than I could imagine and made the entire day’s troubles worth it for some reason. Right before we left the sun started to go down. Not before the Lord painted an amazing scene in the sky. The sun's rays were shining down as if to pour out blessings over the village of Bantu. He is at work there. We certainly serve an awesome God.
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