refining

Can’t always see

There is so much to do here. Yet some days I feel like I’m not doing much. This week I was faced with the conviction and harsh reality (again) that it just is not about me. I think I was having a little pity party of sorts. I was feeling like I just didn’t know how God was using me, or the kids. We don’t go to an orphanage every day. We don’t go up and do crafts with the kids at the hospital very often…or, that’s right, we haven’t done that yet at all. We don’t walk down the streets looking for people to share the Gospel with on a daily basis. I was plagued with these “don’ts.” But my problem was, I was not seeing the “dos.” One very big thing in our home since we’ve gotten here is the journey and adjustment of our oldest son. He has been tested and tried, he has had many days being sent to his bed for the majority of the time. He has rebelled against our instruction and discipline so much more than he ever really had back in the States. He has even had moments of outright rebellion against God. But people have been praying. And God has been working. The past 10 days or so we began to see a really encouraging change in him. He was seeking the Lord. On his own initiative. It is not like his behavior has completely changed, but we have definitely been encouraged that God is working in him. Caring for, schooling, and discipling these children takes so much of my energy and time, sometimes I forget that it is a huge part of this mission. A vitally important part. We pray desperately that these six will be warriors for the Lord in their own right…kids, teenagers, and eventually adults who love and serve Him, sharing the saving news of the Gospel with many in their lives and time on this earth. We are investing in that now. Even though it seems some days that I am “just a mom,” spending my whole day correcting & disciplining the same child for the thousandth time, that is the Lord’s call on my life. I pray I can find contentment and joy in that, no matter how tiring it may be.

Another thing I forgot is that God is working, doing a million things I cannot see, all the time. It is not about me. I went up to the nursery this week to see if there were any babies who needed to be held (Tom was home for a rare afternoon, so I headed up there). While I was there holding some healthy twins, who happened to be waiting to go home, there were 2 babies who were nearing the end of their short little lives. The nurses and doctors were working on them tirelessly. I could tell they would be with Jesus soon. But as I observed all this from the sidelines, just comforting 2 babies who were waiting for their mama to come feed them, I prayed. I prayed for those souls, and I prayed for their families. I knew there was nothing I could do to help in any other way. And I found myself realizing that it is easy to slip into a mentality of wanting to be productive on this mission field, to be used “effectively,” to do lots of amazing stuff… It was then and there that I was humbled before the Lord. I prayed for this mission to never be about me or what I could do to “save” someone or do something awesome here at Tenwek. But may it always be about the Lord. All for His glory. He is sovereign over every life, every breath. May it always be about Him, even on days that I feel are filled with the ordinary, behind the scenes kind of days.

I don’t know exactly how God is using and will use us here. I may never know how my prayers have been answered. Tom may never see the impact he has on some of his patients. But we do know that God is at work, and He is faithful to work in and through us as we submit our lives to Him. May pride never get in the way. It’s not about the awesome stuff we can show while we’re here. It is about Jesus, refining us, and working to draw people to himself all the time.
Here are a few pictures from the past couple weeks:
Giraffe center in Nairobi.

Giraffes are amazing! We were so thankful for this opportunity to see them up close. This one, named “Betty,” only bumped into 2 of our children and almost knocked them down. She was feisty!

A BIG thank you to our church family back home who sent a package full of cards for each of our kids. That was so special and they all have their cards tucked away in their rooms to look at often 🙂
Another big thank you to Aunt Laura, Uncle Scott and cousins who sent a package with a Nerf gun for each of our boys (and stuffed animals for the girls). They were thrilled! Now they can be in on the Nerf wars that happen all over the place among the mk’s here, and they can even sneak a game in with their Daddy now and then!

These 3 youngest are enjoying each day to the fullest…

The girls and I went to a tea party this week with the other little girls here. It was a sweet time.

David wanted to show the smallest chameleon we’ve found yet! (It’s on his thumb, look real hard.)

We had the amazing opportunity to go out to dinner this weekend…by ourselves! It was unexpected and so wonderful. Tom has had a very busy and rough week at the hospital and some (brave) friends/neighbors of ours offered to watch our kids. A date here is certainly different experience (there are really only 2 places to choose from and the food is…interesting), but it was much appreciated just the same!

Posted: March 19, 2017
Under: Family, mission, refining
By: Emily

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Dorcas

I am often broken inside. The struggles here, some are not much different than there. Trying to love my husband and kids well, trying to keep a clean, hospitable home, trying to listen to God’s promptings throughout my day, to serve Him well. I often feel like I’m failing. Yelling at my kids, impatient with their requests, insensitive to my husband’s needs, uncertain that I’m doing the right things in schooling, uncertain whether I’m reaching these hearts for Jesus. I often feel broken. And I am. We all are.

And then a girl comes to our door. Holding a chameleon. Or three chameleons. With a radiant smile on her face. And shoes with holes on her feet. She knows Jesus. She is full of His joy. She wants us to come to her home. I say, “Maybe one day we could.” Then about a week later she shows up and says that her mom has made lunch for us and could we come…now? Taken by surprise, and conflicted because we already had plans to have lunch with another missionary family, we pray and decide to go. Some of our kids complain, not too excited by the change of plans. She says the walk will take 5 minutes…almost an hour later, after a true “hike” (by American standards) we arrive.

They live in a hut. We duck our heads to go inside. They usher us in with huge smiles and “Karibu’s” (welcome in Swahili). They have us sit on their benches and makeshift tables. There are thin cloths draped on the benches. Do some of them sleep here at night? It is very possible. The youngest child serves us each with a large tin plate of beans and rice. They don’t eat. Have they already eaten? Or are they giving us most of their food for lunch that day? They don’t speak much English, but they are very engaged and want to talk with us. We listen and learn more about their culture. We encourage our kids to eat, wondering and hoping we will not offend them by our all too common lack of respect for God’s provision in the food set before us.
As we finish up, the kids run and play with the other kids. Many have gathered now, friends, cousins, neighbors. They all seem to come when they see a “mzungu” (white person) in view. I follow Abby out of the hut to see where the mama went. She has been working hard, I know. I enter another small hut nearby to see her sitting by a small fire in the corner, positioned right next to a bed. I ask, “Is this where your children sleep?” Yes. She has 3. She motions for me to sit. I sit, and we both smile. I tell her she’s a good mama. I don’t know if she understands. There weren’t many words, but as she sat there and stirred the chai over the fire, and we both watched the babies play, we somehow bonded. I saw her Kipsigis Bible. They have almost nothing in the way of possessions. No running water, only stagnant rainwater with bugs in it to drink & wash dishes. Only this small fire to cook over. The kids don’t have any toys. But yet, they have joy in their eyes. They love Jesus. They are so hospitable. His light shines.

This experience was so humbling and amazing for us that day. It was a miracle really. Just that morning we had had total chaos in our home. Our kids wild and unruly, ourselves discontent and searching, questioning, “Are we any use here?” And then we experienced this generosity, this love, from a family that doesn’t even really know us. A girl who radiates His love, despite her hard circumstances.

As we said good-bye, they all waved and I grabbed the mama’s hand. They sent us with a huge pumpkin, bananas, and another chameleon. The kids all came with us to “escort us home” (their words). Dorcas carried Joshua as he complained of the blisters on his feet. Still with a smile. And a little way down the road, a missionary friend of ours appeared with his van to pick us up. We felt a bit guilty to jump in and drive off, but the Kenyan kids didn’t seem to mind. They helped us in and waved us off.

God, you are big. God, you are working. Are we of any use here? Is that even the right question? I think maybe it’s not. Who am I to question? My struggles are small compared to Your grace, your glory. Thank you for teaching us that day. Through one girl and a journey to her family’s home. Your love is beautiful. Open our eyes, Lord, to receive and to give. We have so much more to learn.

Posted: February 19, 2017
Under: refining
By: Emily

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The beautiful and the terrible

We’ve been in Kenya for 3 weeks. That has been more than enough time to learn that this mission is infinitely bigger than my small mind could have possibly imagined.

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts (Isaiah 55:8-9).

I also didn’t realize how big my idols were. We had asked the Lord to strip away everything that we rely on other than Him… and He is faithful. There have been the small, silly idols like a good cup of coffee, a consistent warm shower with plenty of water pressure, my comfortable familiar pillows, reliable Internet. Then there are the challenges that are a little harder to swallow like mud pouring from the water faucet and shower, aggressive mosquitoes that may or may not be carrying malaria, my children who refuse to wear shoes (demanding to be dewormed very soon), the anxiety of wearing a pager that could go off at any moment, my inability to communicate basic information to my patients, an unreliable internet.

Finally we come to the ones that would be truly unbearable without the sustaining hand of God. There are quite a few children at the hospital that I simply don’t have a clue what is wrong with them. Whether it is lack of knowledge on my part, lack of availability of needed tests, or lack of necessary medications, our team is only left with what should always have been our first option… prayer to a loving God. Even more difficult is when we have the necessary tests or treatment but the family cannot afford it. I find myself avoiding a “very expensive” 1400 shilling ($14 usd) test because the family might have to sell a cow or their property if I am not careful about the cost, and that could potentially cripple the entire family. As I type this, there is an otherwise healthy 17 year old boy in the High Dependency Unit (HDU) on a ventilator because of Guillan Barre Syndrome (GBS). GBS is a progressive muscle weakness that starts in the hands and feet and slowly works its way up the body until it paralyzes the muscles that allow you to breath. He was carried in, unable to walk or move his arms. Within 12 hours of arrival, we had to put a tube in his throat in order to breathe for him or he would have died. The terrible part of this story is that we actually had to consider NOT intubating him. (Which would have meant certain death). Fortunately, we were told that the family is from another region and has camels that they can sell to pay for the “expensive” life saving treatment. Additionally, the hospital (which I’ve been told is better equipped than most in Kenya) only has 5 working ventilators and can only commit to one long-term ventilated patient at a time. I am glad I did not have to make that terrible decision. We hope and pray that within 2-3 weeks his lungs will be strong enough to support him and allow for a full recovery.

Then there are the ones that don’t survive. In the three weeks I’ve been at Tenwek, I’ve seen nearly one patient die every day. From newborn babies with overwhelming infections to older kids with swollen, damaged hearts from Rheumatic Heart Disease (an easily preventable disease that we never see in the US anymore), we do our best with what we have and give them back to the weeping parents and the God who gave them life. My idols of self-reliance, nearly limitless medical resources, reasonably good communication skills, and the illusion that life isn’t really that fragile are slowly and painfully dying. It is terrible.

It is just like our God to reveal His beauty in the midst of the terrible. Kenya is beautiful. The Kenyan people are wonderful. My team of young Kenyan clinical and medical officers is absolutely amazing. They are bright, hard working, and deeply care about our patients… and they desire to love and serve our God. Just today (Saturday), our family had the privilege of sharing a meal with a more than generous but impoverished Kenyan family with a small farm. (We think they sacrificed their own food for tomorrow just to give us some today…more on that story later.) My wife and kids love me and forgive me even when I sin against them. I know we have amazing family and friends at home praying for us constantly. I have seen children survive when I was convinced they couldn’t. I have sat with a father, after the death of his beloved daughter, as He expressed his unwavering hope that he knew he would see her again. And this is our Hope, that our loving God holds life and death in His hands. All of our days are numbered, and no one breathes their first or last breath without our sovereign Lord’s consent. We may try to convince ourselves it doesn’t, but because of the curse of sin, each day on this earth holds terror. Do not despair, there is coming a day when “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more” (Rev 21:4a). Our Lord is returning to replace the terrible with the beautiful. Let’s lay our idols aside and live every day without fear of the terror it may hold, for the beauty that God is revealing is eternal.

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. James 1:17