A must read...

You must read this. It's our friend the Helsby's who are missionaries in Tanzania. This is her most recent blog. I cried, then laughed... real hard. I've been here 2 years and had no idea about funerals here.

I confirmed this with Zippy. She and I had a long talk about weddings and funerals at our "Livingstone staff meeting"... okay so it was just an excuse to take my friend and treat her to coffee, but it made her feel professional!

Trivial...I know.

Okay people- I know this is silly, but that's the point. I needed something light hearted. The sappy stuff is coming, don't you worry.

So as most of you know our little Thomas has been growing his hair out pretty much for 1 year now... it started b/c CT was growing his hair out for Locks of Love.

Naturally, I had some fun with it this week. You know I have to practice for our kids sake.

So just for fun, I'd like to know which "Thomas hair-do" do you like most?

1. "Slick Rick"

2. "Da Fro"

3. "Rasta La Vista"

A Day at the Farm (gk)

On Saturday afternoon, Lindy, Thomas and I had the opportunity to visit a local farm! The owner is a man named Haron... also known as the professional chicken slaughterer. The guy can kill like 400 chickens in 2 hours.. I seriously envy his skills.

But that's beside the point.

We went and visited Haron in Ngong Town because Lindy and CT are going to start getting fresh milk delivered to the house from him! Milk from the store is super expensive, so Lindy is especially excited about getting it fresh and cheap from Haron!

So, off to Haron's farm we went! We had to park at the top of something that resembled Mt. Kilimanjaro, and walk down to his gate. Lindy almost fell down the hill to her death. Good news though- she lived.So, of course Haron's little farm had cows. Three of which were pregnant! They were massive.. And very friendly.

There was one cow named Faith, and she and I developed a really tight bond. She even sneezed on me. That's love...

There was a little calf there, too. Haron said the poor little thing didn't even have a name yet! Lindy told him about my awesome animal naming skills, and so he told me I could name her!

The calf is now named Grace.

They had other animals, too. Some sheep, and a rabbit, and puppies.. and also these little baby goats who quickly became favorites of Lindy and Thomas...

Thomas knows more than me about.. well, practically everything. But that's why I like to spend time with him- he always teaches me something new. And he lets me ask a million bazillion questions. At the farm, he took a moment to teach me about digging wells. This one was 150 feet deep. Luckily, no one fell in today.

Like I said earlier, Haron also keeps chickens and helps us slaughter ours. BUT.. he also had chickens like THESE...

In case you didn't know, that's massive. That chicken is about a year old, and Haron said he's going to slaughter it for Christmas... That chicken put ALL of our adult chickens to shame.

We had a good time with Haron. His family is pretty cute, too...

And just as a side note... We went up to the Ngong Hills after we left the farm.

THIS... is how I will always remember Kenya.

No pain, No gain- No problem!

Let me introduce you to my other brother. This is Rusty and his gorgeous wife, Sarah. Being my brother's best friend, we grew up together. He did all the things a brother would do for his sister. He picked on me yet protected me. He was the other child my mom always wanted. He spent A LOT of time at our house. We all loved it! Then he moved away and we were sad... but he met his precious bride and we are all so thankful for that.

In the spring while CT and I were home and staying with my brother, Rusty came from NY to visit. He asked about ministry and we joked but seriously told him "you should just come!" His response: "Okay!"

This couple took their vacation this year to come to Kenya. Not just come, but to participate, serve, work hard, play, cook, love on boys and be exhausted. They lugged a bunch of stuff over here that wasn't even for them. In fact they packed all their stuff in less than one suitcase!

They were naturals with the boys.

They even brought real soccer uniforms for them.

But wait a second... What happened to that guy's foot? The Sunday before the they were to leave for Kenya (on Thursday), Rusty broke his ankle playing soccer. Most would have probably chosen to hang close to home due to the timing and pain of it all. Not Rusty. Instead, he told the doc that he didn't have time for an MRI and didn't want to deal with a cast. So, they put a boot on him and told him to come back for his MRI after his return. He was determined to come. He started taking Motrin around the clock and the rest of the pain he just tolerated.

So with a very swollen and very purple leg and foot they came and boy did they serve!

THE BOYS LOVED THEIR NEW UNIFORMS!!!!

...not to mention all the hugs from Sarah

(Sarah reading and doing crafts with the kids at Berith school)

2 good ankles... AH- who needs em when you have serious skills on crutches

James all but crawled into Rusty's lap!

Rusty shared his testimony with the boys. I have never heard them ask so many questions and be so attentive. They asked questions about how he overcame difficult circumstances and how he dealt with seemingly unmanageable trials. They all felt a real connection with him through hearing his story and how the Lord brought him through those things, gaining strength along the way and allowing the Him to lead his every step.

As difficult as it was to break his ankle just a few days before leaving to share his gift of soccer with street boys, Rusty trusted that the Lord had something different in store for him. He trusted that there was much more to this trip than what he could have taught boys in soccer skills. He was looking so forward to using what he was good at to minister to the boys. But the Lord didn't necessarily want to use his obvious soccer abilities, but instead his obedience and his ability to relate and love on the least of these.

Kibera and Berith Bible College (gk)

Every week we travel that same path. You take a left onto some no name road- paved nicely by Kenyan standards. If you look to the right, there’s a neatly groomed field. It’s even bordered with a white picket fence. Sometimes when we drive by, there are men out there on horseback, practicing for their next polo match. It’s sunny, and smooth, and welcoming. That road soon dead ends into another. We turn left- Kibera Road. This road isn’t as nice. Every ten or fifteen feet, we swerve to dodge the potholes, usually getting stuck behind some crazy matatu driver or a motorcyclist swerving between both lanes. Down the curvy road we go, until we come to that hill- that hill that immediately tells me… we’re in Kibera.

As you descend that hill, you’re eyes are confronted with rusted tin upon rusted tin upon rusted tin- the housing of some one million people, smashed together, as far as you can see. It seems like one good push would send everything tumbling down. Trash heaps line the edges of the road, garbage spilling over into the streets. Stray dogs scavenge for scraps of food next to the small children with little bags collecting bits of plastic or metal they’ll sell for just a few shillings later in the day. Men and women crowd into the busy road. They don’t seem to notice our passing car until we nearly hit them. Everything smells like smoke, and dirt, and waste. The people don’t smile much. It seems to me like the slum has consumed them. Hope is the last thing they’re expecting to find today.

We keep driving. Every time we get to our destination, I nearly miss it. We turn right, and park in front of that sign- Berith Bible College. I can’t help but smile as I get out of the car, and enter through that gate. I know that inside that humble building are some amazing people. People like Pastor Indiazi; Meshack; Vitalis; Beatrice. People who are willing to work incredibly hard because it means they will educate men and women and send them back out into Kibera, equipped to change what they see and offer Hope to those one million blank faces.

The Bible College is one of my favorite places to visit. Usually, it means I get to sit in on a class and learn right alongside the Kenyan students. It always means a warm welcome- from students and staff alike. We’ve covered topics from Nehemiah, Isaiah, and Colossians. Verse by verse, and chapter by chapter, they dig into Scripture, study it, discuss its implications, and apply it to their lives and the lives of Kenyans as a whole.

If I’ve learned anything during the past six weeks in Kenya, it’s this: Kenya doesn’t need any more church buildings. It doesn’t need any more white people to come play savior, checking off their good deed for the year. It doesn’t need our money, and it doesn’t need our pity. So what does Kenya need? It needs to change from the very inside, spreading outward- not the other way around. It needs Kenyans, to rise up and enable Kenyans to make a positive change in Christ’s name. I get excited about the Bible College because that is exactly what they are doing! Many of the students are already leaders in their churches. If not the pastor, they are second in command, stepping up to teach Scripture as it is meant to be taught.

Many people in Kenya claim to be pastors. Many of those same people are corrupt, have hidden agendas, and don’t have any knowledge or training to head a congregation. But I know that very soon, the students of Berith Bible College will begin to change that. They will be the leaders that Kenya needs- teaching the Truth, offering Hope, and rising up a nation of empowered disciples. It will take time, but I know it will happen!

The first time we drove back up that hill and out of Kibera, I remember looking back and being completely consumed by the sin and despair that engulf the place. It seemed pointless to me- how could anything possibly penetrate such darkness?

But today, when we drove back up that hill and out of Kibera, I looked back, and a smile spread across my face. There is light penetrating the darkness of Kibera- and that light is Berith Bible College.

gk

One Day...

One day there won’t be any more suffering. There won’t be any pain, disease, corruption, abuse, addictions, sin, or sadness.

One day there won’t be any more boys who live in the streets. There won’t be any families where pride and selfishness force young boys to choose an abandon car to spend the night under over a warm bed. I can’t wait for it! Because I’m struggling to rationalize the picture on our mantles with the stories I hear over and over again about hatred, abandonment, and fear of tomorrow from a 12 year old.

One day you’ll take your son to Boy Scouts, camping, baseball games, or to test drive a car. You’ll probably tell them at 16 that they have a curfew and they’d better not make the mistake of missing it. Moms will get anxious at 18 when they have to pack them up and take them to college. They’ll probably walk into their old rooms and bathe in nostalgia for a few hours.

But I doubt very seriously that Dennis will have that experience from his family. I’m pretty sure that Johnny won’t have a dad who flips open his wallet with puffed out chest telling his co-workers about his son. And little James may never ever raise his hand and tell you what bedtime story was his favorite read by his mom.

Why? Because their families have already chosen something else over them.

Sin is an awful sickness. It’s rooted in pride, born at birth, and extensive in life. And millions have no idea how horrible its effects truly are. Dennis, Johnny, and James’ families sure don’t.

But what if one day something different happens. What if, instead of an abandoned car, there was a bed with plenty of covers and the sweet smell of Downy sheets filling their nostrils? What if there was a mom to read bedtime stories to 2 little boys who previously had no concept of such a thing? What if instead of colleting plastic bags all day for just enough coins to by a mango, there was a table with more food than they could stuff in their mouths? What if there was a real family where they didn’t have to look out for themselves because someone else was willing to?

One day that will happen…

Actually,… that one day was July 3, 2010. For one day, 10 young boys were allowed to be boys. They didn’t have to buy food. They didn’t have to sleep outside under newspapers. They didn’t have to worry if someone was going to attack them while they tried to manage a few hours sleep. I was on watch!

Lindy and I were honored to have our boys spend an entire day AND NIGHT with us! They played, ate, laughed, and were free to be boys for this one day. At the end of that day, I gathered them together and told them that we’d love to have them spend the night and travel together to church the next morning. They cheered loudly! They high-fived, and beamed with excitement! I took them upstairs after every one of them got warm baths to show them their beds. We walked in the big “bunk room” and I said, “You will sleep here.” They asked, “How many to a bed?” … My heart jumped into my throat because I knew what was to follow my response. “You each get your own bed tonight.” Their screams of delight melted my heart. Most kids in the world not only know a bed, but they usually have their own. Neither of these were true for my little buddies.

But tonight it was.

As my boys slept, for one day at least, I didn’t have to worry where they were, if they were safe, and if anyone was going to mess with them. And I too, slept very well for one night.

I can’t wait to make that one day a constant reality for 10 boys who are becoming saints. My family works for them so that can be a reality. We are closer than before.

One day an even better reality may happen for them too. And that’s the day that I most long for. It’s the day that they become adopted sons of my Father. And I will wear my tears like an honor badge for them.

Pray for my boys today. Their Father loves them and wants them to come home.