s we rounded the corner, walking into the Nazareth Hospital pediatric ward, we saw something that didn’t make sense. Here was a small baby, sitting silently in the middle of his bed, yet this baby had the intent, knowing eyes of an older child. We learned the child’s name is John. He is 5 years old and weighs 16 pounds.

John’s chart gave us some hint of his medical problems – severe malnutrition, HIV+, pneumonia, anemia,  TB, and failure of first line ARVs, the combination of drugs used to suppress the HIV virus and stop the progression of the disease.

If only John could speak for himself, we might understand the emotion behind his eyes.  There was something going on, something deep and painful and heartbreaking.  John’s 13-year-old caregiver confirmed that John is an orphan. His mother died when he was only three-months old. His only sister is dead also. He obviously suffers from neglect imposed upon his young life by the reality of institutionalized living.

John was receiving excellent medical care at Nazareth Hospital, but his eyes exposed a hunger that would not be satisfied within the confines of a hospital.

Fast forward a week.  Today John was released from Nazareth Hospital into the care of the Joy Home, where his arrival was greatly anticipated by his new mother, Elizabeth, and his new brothers and sisters.  We have only known this beautiful child of God for seven days, and today, as he entered his new home, we saw him smile for the first time.  We saw sweet John’s smiling eyes!

And tonight, he sleeps well…in the loving arms of Elizabeth, within the safety and security of the Joy Home.  God is so very good.  Thank you for your prayers.

If you would like to contribute to the work being done through the Tree of Lives’ ministry at the Joy Home, please visit our donation page. 

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

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Most folks have memories of family outings from their youth, perhaps a trip to see grandparents or just a day at the beach.  Those memories are an important part of being a family.

Presently, the Joy Home has three families. The head of each family is a Mom. This past weekend Momma Joyce took her family on a Kenyan family outing and Kate and I were their guests.

We arrived at the Joy Home at 9:00am. All seven of Joyce’s children were already patiently waiting including baby Emmanuel. We loaded into a rented vintage Peugeot station wagon and headed off to Rock Park.  It was an hours drive and the children were wired with excitement except baby Emmanuel who was fast asleep within two minutes of our departure. Sound familiar?

Rock Park is an African children’s amusement park complete with a merry go round, face painting and small paddle boats. Momma Joyce gathered her family to determine what rides they would choose and headed off to their first choice….a spinning car ride.  Yes, one child got sick from the spinning and the rest were dizzy.  Mom decided they all needed a break to settle down….the wisdom of a mother.

Lunch was a treat of chips (French fries) a small sausage and even sodas. Mom asked for Moses to give the blessing, an indication that she is also their spiritual mentor.

By three o’clock the children were ready to call it a day. You guessed it, everyone slept on the way home….except baby Emmanuel who had already had his nap.

Imagine a life without the relationship of a family or family memories. That is the reality of an orphan’s life in Kenya.  The Joy Home is dedicated to bringing not only the family relationship back to these precious children but also encouraging them into a relationship with their Creator.

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

Over the past several years we have come to personally know many of these children….behind those smiling faces.

One young man will probably shed his snappy school uniform within the hour and return to picking tea to help his family….stuck in the cycle of poverty. A beautiful young girl will cry herself to sleep as she remembers her father’s words, “you’re a dog,” because she is a female. Two brothers will return to a small apartment, void of parents, occupied by an unmarried sister and her three children, and try to find a place to sleep.  A 12-year-old boy will return very quietly to his home, avoiding the eyes of an abusive father.

We have learned the hard way that we have very few solutions to the problems of Kenyan children. Certainly education will help to equip them, but perhaps the answer lies in the words of one of our scholars,

“ I was poor in my heart but have now discovered God.”

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

“Mommy, help me!”

grabs the attention of every mother within hearing distance, each turning immediately to see if the child in need is one of her own.

For the children at the Joy Home, their lives, up to this point, weren’t ordered as such.  There was no mother to pick them up, brush them off, give them a hug, and send them back into the game.  But thanks be to God, those days of unanswered cries for a mother’s help are no more for our Joy Home children.

Moses is 8, a child of the streets for several years before joining his new family at the orphanage.  Since the Joy Home’s first Guardian Day celebration earlier this year, Moses has been depressed. Guardian Day was the day that the children’s extended families came to the Joy Home to visit them and celebrate their new home.  Moses had no visitors that day; Moses has no family.  No grandmother.  No cousins.  No aunts or uncles.  Last week, Moses asked Joyce, his Joy Home mom, if he could go with her to her village, where she was returning for a 4-day visit with her own family.  They returned to the Joy Home today and Moses is a new boy!  He spent time with Joyce’s grown children, Kevin and Marcie.  They called him their brother; he was made to feel a part of their family. He was made to feel that he had a place at last where he belongs.

Yvonne is two-years old.  She was found abandoned at a bus stop earlier this year and moved into the Joy Home last month.  Recently Yvonne became very ill; she is a patient at Nazareth Hospital right now, as tests are being run to determine what is causing her seizures and high fever.  Grace, her Joy Home mom, is at Nazareth with her, sharing her bed, responding to her cries of “Mommy, help me.”

Naomi is another “child” of Grace at the Joy Home.  Naomi is navigating that period of life through which all young girls must journey – she is no longer a child, not yet a woman.  It turns out Grace has raised three daughters of her own. God surely heard Naomi’s unspoken cries for the love and support that only a mother can provide.  And God gave her Grace!

The kids at the Joy Home have a lot of unresolved issues.  They have suffered much and their battle will continue to be fought moving uphill.  But one thing is for sure – each time they fall, they will be picked up, brushed off, given a big hug, and sent back into the game.  That’s just what a mother does.

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

In Kenya this Easter a young boy named Isaac experienced, first hand, that new beginning. You may recall we asked for prayers for 12 year old Isaac as he has been hospitalized since last December. He was recovering from TB and related cardiac and pulmonary failures. Isaac was a very sick young man.

Well, Isaac was discharged today….Easter Sunday. In addition he celebrated his first communion, in his home church, this Sunday. We are certain he will remember this Easter. Isaac commented, “My heart is quiet.”

Tomorrow Isaac will be transported to the Joy Children’s Home to begin his slow recovery process. He hopes to return to Good Shepherd Academy by next fall.  Isaac is one of the first Tree of Lives scholarship recipients and has maintained a top class ranking for several years.

Happy Easter!

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

We arrived in Kenya at 8PM after a hopscotch flight from Norfolk to Boston to Amsterdam to Nairobi. The airport was somewhat unwelcoming in the night. One expects lots of lights and hustle and bustle, but we walked into a terminal seemingly lit by 40 watt light bulbs…..welcome to Africa.

Quickly we moved though baggage claim and customs, exiting the airport praying we would find a familiar face. There he was, Stephen, our driver. We have known Stephen for five years. He is very reliable and quite proud of his daughter Sarah, a recent Nazareth Nursing School graduate and one of the Tree of Lives nursing scholarship recipients.

Stephen found his way through downtown Nairobi traffic…..very light at night. Quickly we transitioned into the suburbs of Nairobi, passing through numerous small villages whose names one has trouble pronouncing….Muthaiga, Untei, Muchatha and Rhaini. The night air had the smell of burning charcoal and a recent rain.  Sometimes even the air makes one feel they are in the midst of friends.

Nazareth Hospital was now only a few miles away….. we felt like children returning home. Entering a seemingly empty compound, the lights reminded us there were 200 patients a few feet away…. in the midst of births to coping with the medical challenges of life. At our guest house awaited Sr Clara and her team of helpers. We were tired yet their welcoming hugs made it worth the long journey.

We look forward to the weeks ahead and are thankful to our Kenyan family’s heart of compassion.

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

Two months ago, a beautiful two-year-old child of God was abandoned at a bus stop in Thika, Kenya.  Today she is part of a family of love at the Joy Children’s Home with a mother named Grace.

When Yvonne was rescued from the bus stop, she was at first referred to another local children’s home called NEST, an orphanage that cares primarily for children of prisoners.     The model at the NEST orphanage is to release the children when their parents return from prison.  It was believed that Yvonne would suffer living in an environment where the children come and go so frequently.  In addition, Yvonne tested positive for HIV/Aids.  NEST felt they were not able to properly care for Yvonne and requested a referral to a more suitable orphanage.

Yvonne has been welcomed unconditionally into the family at the Joy Home .  But even more importantly, she has been ushered into the family of God, where there are no boundaries to love and no child is ever abandoned.  Welcome, sweet Grace.  Flourish, precious one.

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

“Sometimes the most important part of life is just showing up.”

More and more I buy into the theory of just showing up. Sometimes the present really is just your presence.

This beautiful present of presence was evidenced on Saturday at the Joy Home when our inaugural Guardian Day was celebrated – our first shot at welcoming family members of our children – often grandparents or aunts and uncles, not able to offer full time care for our children but eternally capable of loving them. They were invited, all as we were aware, for a party and tour of the new home for their little loved ones. What a celebration it was – joy and laughter abounding for the 18 little children greeted by loving family members. What could be sweeter? Eighteen adorably delighted little treasures.

Full disclosure though to an otherwise sweet story – there are actually 20 children at the Joy Home. Do your math – two had no one there for them.

Baby Emmanuel was left, hours old, in a cabbage patch here at Nazareth Hospital. No one to contact to invite. No one to show up. At 10 months old, though, I don’t think he noticed.

Then there is Moses. Eight years old, a life so fractured that three of that was lived on the street. One thing I’ve learned about street kids is that they are amazingly resourceful, entrepreneurally outgoing, fiercely independent, all with a touch of occasional orneriness. There you have Moses – a smile that flirts without even knowing it, a kid that could sell ice to the Eskimos, independent, feisty, yet, at the same time, superbly sweet.

Oh – and one more thing – alone. All the contacts with family to no avail, Moses the sole child on the playground for whom no one shows up. Rather than the see-saw, it was the swing.

I have no idea how Moses felt those three years alone on the street. For me, someone has always been there – someone to reach down and pull me up, hold me, love me. I have no idea how Moses felt this past Saturday. For some reason though, I think I know, in some small way, how Jesus cried as he saw a lonely eight-year old boy on the swing, pumping by himself, at the Joy Home in Ngarariga, Kenya this past Saturday. I believe I’m sharing some of those tears right now.
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I hope I am here for the next Guardian Day. It would be an honor to come through the gate and shout,  “I’m here for Moses.”   If I can’t make it, maybe you could clear your calendar for a little eight-year old buried treasure. Don’t worry about preparing. All you have to do is just show up.

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

Sunday afternoon, I take eight of my non-African friends to visit our Joy Home and hang out with 20 African children, most whose lives are complicated by HIV, all orphaned, each simply beautiful. After huge hugs, hand holding, bubble blowing, ball kicking, laughter, smiles and more than a few tears, Naomi, the oldest at 13, organizes a traditional group dance for 18 little natural-born performers. The only two non-participants, Emmanuel, our cabbage patch baby, less than a year old, and little Anastasia, nearly three but developmentally delayed because of a troubled history longer than her years.

So the experiment begins, 18 tightly choreographed young African dancers keeping perfect rhythm – a marvel of bodily harmony. Evidence of a DNA rhythm gene? Perhaps but not compelling.

Scientific observation not completed…

As the dance progresses, I look over and there it is – conclusive proof – DNA evidence – no longer 18 but now 19. Little Anastasia, who five months ago couldn’t even pull herself up, now not only walking, but dancing – intently taking in what her new older brothers and sisters are doing  – watching, observing, mimicking – doing her level best to keep up – posture, foot movement, clapping, the whole routine. Nothing short of a miracle to behold. One I will never forget. My tiny dancer of grace.

Proof – incontrovertible evidence – that when you are blessed by the rhythm of a loving African family, a home filled with an enduring choreographed witness of sisters and brothers, it can’t help but get into your DNA, rewire you to dance, dance, dance.

As I watch the miracle of Anastasia this bright Sunday afternoon, I realize that no more testing is needed – racist or not I stick with my theory, satisfied with a proof that spins and twirls and smiles and laughs before my very wet eyes – a treasured possession, chosen, royal, holy.

And so tonight, as I lay my head to sleep, already visions of perfect synchronicity in my head, I pray:

“Dear Jesus, if it be your will, make me an African, and let it be little Anastasia who welcomes me into the family.“

I’m going to try clapping in rhythm first thing in the morning.

PS: Make me a racist? Maybe, but if so, then so were Moses and Peter (Deut. 7:6; 1 Peter 2:9).

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