The riches and abundance of God’s Kingdom are found in surprising places.  I was made rich today through the poorest woman I have ever had the pleasure of visiting.  Her name is Lois.

When Lois saw Alice (a staff member at Holy Family Center) and me she immediately stood up from her dinner preparations and invited us into her home, a humble shack with outside walls and roof made of corrugated tin.

We walked through the entrance of her home and took our seats in one of the cleanest dirt floor rooms I have ever seen. We barely fit into the space and the smell of smoke from the cooking fire through the feedbag walls fragranced the air.

Lois proceeded to share that her 14-year-old son has been helping her remember to take her HIV and TB medications.  She expressed how blessed she was to have such wonderful support from her family.  Even though I only understood what Alice translated, the gentle tone of Lois’ voice and humble presence captured my heart.

 We encouraged Lois to continue her faithful regime of medication along with a well balanced diet so that she would stay strong and less vulnerable to infections and disease.  As I sat in her simple and modest home, I was overwhelmed with gratitude to experience the richness in Lois’ life.

As our time with her came to a close, I prayed for Lois and her family.  When I finished, Lois began talking again and Alice translated.  Lois said,

“I thank you so very much for coming, I pray a blessing on you and your family.” 

 As she spoke I felt an unexpected shower of blessing as I received riches beyond measure from a sister in Christ, who owns so little but lives abundantly in humility and love.

My cup overflows.

 

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This question posed and inspired by Pastor Jim from the book, Walk a Mile in My Shoes by Trevor Hudson, has been going through my head since arriving in Kenya Monday morning. In that ight’s devotion, Jim suggested that to get the most from our pilgrimage, we should take daily time to reflect and journal, describing the new experiences and asking questions of ourselves that bubble up. The one that came to me almost immediately after our evening was, “How do I take off my own shoes?” Literally, of course, it’s simple, but what does it mean spiritually, in the context in which I am now? How do I take off my own shoes and walk in the shoes of these beautiful people that God loves the same as he loves me? What can I do to enable relationship that is both healthy and helpfully compassionate?

The answer began to take shape in light of the contrasts between my own and the Kenyan culture when frustration and humility arose as I was confronted with my own brokenness at the same time as seeing the varied brokenness in this country.

Since, to put it mildly, I don’t have very pretty feet, taking off my  own shoes  spiritually and in this place means exposing something or things of myself that I don’t like. There are several that have become apparent in the travel and early days here.

First, the 36 hours on planes and in airports coming here showed me how wedded I am to the comfort and self-control of my culture. Hours spent sitting cramped in the economy section of four different airplanes, cold water showers after arriving, lost luggage, muddy red clay on my shoes, all jolted me into recognition of this dependence.

Being quick to judge is another failing of mine that reared its ugly head in these first days. Betty, my travel companion, and I were able to see the preemies at Nazareth Hospital in the complex where we’re staying. Two moms were there holding their newborns. Purity was joyfully welcoming her new baby, while Lois, sitting with one baby in her arms and its twin in the nearby incubator, looked a bit strained and tired.

Not thinking anything of it, I spoke to both and encouraged them about the new development in their lives, remembering the joy I felt when Dave’s and my own daughters were born. Later, during that evening’s devotion when I was describing our visit to the team, it came as a shock to me when Jim told us that twins born in Kenya, especially in rural areas where we are, are considered a curse and in years past, were not allowed to live. Although these babies won’t be killed, they face a future stigma because of superstition.

There’s plenty more evidence of my own brokenness, but these dominate in the current circumstances and are sufficient to pull me out of any feelings of superiority or tendencies to patronize.  In the remaining week and a half, I will strive, with God’s faithful help, to just be here as the broken person I am, walking in God’s love and grace, praying for him to show me how best to relate and asking Him how best to continue after the trip is over, to walk gracefully with these people and the many others Tree of Lives seeks to serve.

by Jeanne Perin, a member of First Presbyterian Church in Norfolk, Virginia.

 For those who populate my front porch this morning, it is a bit different. Granted, their parents, mostly tea pickers who work for less than  $2 a day, will not be plucking tea but neither will they be paid.  So rather than the smell of charred meat, their families will have a few fewer beans in their pots tonight. In a way, it seems that true independence is yet to arrive, at least in this part of my world.

 So my porch kids arrive almost as early as the morning rains; schools are closed and they have nowhere else to go, nothing much to celebrate, other than a “free” day. And this is my commitment to them, in some small way, to help them feel the fresh breeze of freedom. James can sit in a grown-up chair, cross his legs like he sees the old men do, and read the morning newspaper. Alice can sit on my wood box, bundle herself with a tattered wrap and watch the younger kids run. Zecharias can leisurely twist the wire he pulled from the heap this morning, as the artist within creates a beautiful metallic bird.  Then every hour or so they will collect themselves, boys and girls, the young and the younger, as a community of freedom and submit their solitary wills to the communal project of a 100 piece puzzle.  As I watch, I’m reminded of how Psalm 133 opens, “ How good and pleasant it is when God’s children live together in unity!”

 So this Kenyatta Day. Though I don’t smell flame-broiled goat, I breath in something so much sweeter, the aroma of hope – hope in and for a new generation, one which perhaps just might be able to work together more cooperatively than mine, even if only once in an hour or so, so that, in unity, they may solve some of the puzzles we have left to them.

This rainy glorious holiday, I thank Jesus for the joy of witnessing a little hope unfurl amidst a dozen young puzzle solvers.  Happy Independence Day.

by Jim Wood, Senior Pastor at First Presbyterian Church in Norfolk, Virginia.

You see, Anastasia has a special story, one in which her first steps are an immense leap forward.

The fourth born girl to a single mom dying with AIDS, Anastasia was orphaned just weeks after her birth. Her grandmother tried her level best to take care of four grandchildren, all under the age of six. Each day she would find a neighbor to tend the older ones and then strap little Anastasia on her back, as she headed to a local rock quarry, where for ten hours a day she would chip larger rocks into smaller and smaller ones, when, at the end of the day, she would pocket about $1.50.  Then she would make the long trek back home, where Anastasia was untied from her back bundle and placed in a cardboard box while grand mom cooked and tended the older children.

Strapped on her grandmother’s back, or laid in a box nearly all of her hours for well more than a year, Anastasia’s body never thrived and her little legs never matured.  Then the $1.50 quarried a day went away when grand mom, herself with AIDS, became ill. Things got worse and worse…until it appeared that death perhaps would visit this home once again.

But today, Anastasia, 20 months old, her once tiny body enriched by good food, unformed legs strengthened by physical therapy, spirit built by the love of an adoptive new mom and aunties and sisters and brothers at the Joy Home, took her first step…and then another…and another…and…

…and when she did, this crying white man saw the heavens opened and witnessed, first-hand, the smile of Christ.

Only He knows where her next steps will lead her but, based on the heavenly smile witnessed today, I have the feeling they are leading her into an awesome future.

In Him,

Jim

PS: In case you couldn’t tell, it was a great first day in Kenya.

by Jim Wood, Senior Pastor at First Presbyterian Church in Norfolk, Virginia.

This past Friday afternoon, Kate and I visited the Joy Home as the children returned from school. I suspect they were surprised to see visitors but they were quick to greet us with many handshakes. The boys were boys, showing us their newest Karate moves, followed by their ladder climbing skills. We recognized several familiar faces…..Moses from Holy Family Center and Michael from the Allamano School. Over one half of the children at the Joy Home are  HIV+ and most are full orphans.

The boys wanted to show off their bedrooms and specifically they wanted us to see their personal shelf of clothing…..several   shirts and socks.  They were all smiles! It later occurred to us that this might be the first t time these children have had their own space and clothing. Sometimes what we take for granted is a treasure at the Joy Home.

The girls were giggly and especially proud of their bunk beds. The beds were neatly made and their names where written prominently   on their storage cabinets. Many children in Kenya, especially orphans, sleep on the floor or several to a bed… these bunk beds are truly a treasure.

Three Moms were busy in the kitchen preparing mokimoke (mashed potatoes, beans and corn) and mandazi (a donut like treat) for Friday night dinner. Each of the Moms have completed 12 weeks of training including nutritional instruction.  In order to combat the side effects of a weakened immune system in many of the children proper nutrition is essential.

We wanted to stay for dinner but needed to leave. We promised to return this week and spend the night with them…our first sleepover. 

by Rudy Miller, a member of First Presbyterian Church in Norfolk, Virginia.

Kate and I were visiting the pediatric ward to see a child from the Joy Home. Michael B. was admitted to the hospital on Monday. He is struggling with TB, pneumonia, shingles and a low CD4 (white blood cell) count. Michael is HIV+. Although he is only 11 years old he and his younger brother are full orphans who were living alone before being admitted to the Joy Home. We also learned Michael has a friend at Nazareth, Brian.  Brian is 8 years old and is struggling with AIDS. Michael has become Brian’s encourager! When we visited Brian it was clear his disease had progressed….he is extremely weak, malnourished and dehydrated. But, there was Michael at Brian’s side.  I’m not certain what Michael said…..but he was there.

As we looked around this ward of beautiful children, all HIV+ thru no fault of their own, there was a pretty little girl hiding under the covers of her bed. As she peeked out, we thought we recognized her, yes, it was Habiba. We last saw Habiba in 2010. At that time we learned she was being abused and in the midst of a terrible living environment. Last week her uncle brought her to Nazareth Hospital. Because she no longer takes her Anti Retro Viral medications her health is failing. Will her mother or uncle return for her? It is unclear. Yet, the Tree of Lives Love Account will at least make certain Habiba’s medical needs are provided.

Our visit ended with a reminder of the tremendous needs of Kenyan children yet a promise of hope. Perhaps our experience was best described by Paul when he described our God as the God of all comfort who comforts us in all our afflictions so that we may be able to comfort others.

by Rudy Miller, a member of First Presbyterian Church in Norfolk, Virginia.

Kate and I were first invited to visit Mutomo in 2008. We knew very little of that area in East Africa. We do remember our host’s warnings….

“please bring water and cabbages…..dress lightly and be prepared to eat dust”!

Quickly we discovered Mutomo was a five hour drive, by a four wheel drive vehicle, from Nairobi. Did I say…..a bumpy and dusty road?

In the midst of crippling poverty and a four year famine stands Mutomo Mission Hospital. The hospital serves a population of 50,000 people within a 15 mile radius. Because of the lack of transportation and poverty most folks are extremely ill on arrival to the hospital. Mortality rates are high.

Yet, Mary is a “Poster Patient” for the hospital. We have visited Mary for several years and find that her and her children’s health have improved. She loves to greet us with a dance and many hugs. Something about that human touch draws us together and validates our relationship as God’s family. Tree of Lives has been able to supply her children with nutritious supplemental food and we were able to help with tuition to allow her daughter to remain in school.

When we think about seeing Mary in a few weeks, we are reminded we cannot cure her of her disease. We cannot guarantee it will rain this season. But, we can offer her the one thing we have the power to offer, the gift of our very self.

by Rudy Miller, a member of First Presbyterian Church in Norfolk, Virginia.

We really do look forward to reuniting with family; our Kenyan family. Let me introduce you.

Four years ago we met Joseph one of Holy Family Center’s 4200 HIV+ patients. When we visited his home, all 100 square feet, we realized he was a widower raising three teenagers in addition to struggling with health issues from living with HIV/AIDS.

Yet Joseph was smiling. What was I not seeing?

Outside of Joseph’s home was his own Kiosk. A small booth where he sold essentials as eggs, salt and sugar to other villagers. In describing his business Joseph was very familiar with revenue, profit and loss yet on a micro scale. But there was something else.

We spotted Joseph’s Bible, well worn, on the top of his shop counter. He caught my glance and was quick to give God the credit for being his refuge and provider.

As happens so often in Kenya I probably was of little encouragement to Joseph yet God spoke to me through this dear man. A giant of faith who has learned to live every day knowing that his suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. God’s word came alive that day!

by Rudy Miller, a member of First Presbyterian Church in Norfolk, Virginia.