This Wild Journey

Day by day

Habari! (Greetings, how are you?) We’re hanging in there over here. Every day is a new day, a new opportunity to see God at work. Someone here asked me the other day, “So do you guys have any big plans coming up?” I thought, hmmm…I haven’t thought that way in a very long time. The last “big plans” we had have already taken place! We’re here in Kenya, serving at Tenwek, so what next?! We literally have been living day to day these past 2 months, not knowing what might come next, walking by faith, trusting Him to guide us (though we have to remind ourselves of that frequently!). There are many hard days, and hard things in each day, but there is also a peace and simplicity to this season for us. I don’t want to overlook that. I am thankful for it. We know there will be decisions up ahead, and plans to be made, but for now we walk forward, one foot in front of the other, in what God has for us here and now.

Here’s a little picture update from the past few weeks…

Our first trip to an orphanage. The kids were in class this time, but we were welcomed by them so warmly and we hope to go back more to play with & minister to them. As you can see, Josh warmed up to them quickly too, as he went around hugging each one! It was eye-opening to see how they live. We’re praying for them to have the food and supplies they need, and to know how deeply they are Loved.

This is Edwin–a recent patient of Tom’s. He came in and almost herniated; they didn’t at first know why. But after surgery to remove a huge abcess on his brain, he was treated with antibiotics and went home! With the many patients who do not recieve the physical healing we pray for, we are often reminded that the Lord is the One who numbers our days. He is the healer. We praise Him for His miracles. Tom is thankful to be a part of God’s work in the lives of the children here.

We had the privilege of passing out cookies and thank you cards to the staff at the hospital last week (our family passed out to the peds units, ICU’s, OB and nursery). The doctors and nurses and staff have been working especially hard the past couple months because of the doctor’s strike in Kenya. Things are really hard because patients who cannot get care elsewhere have been flocking to Tenwek. And there have even been some doctors here at Tenwek who are choosing to be on strike. Please pray the strike would end soon and peacefully, and that the patients would get the care they need when they need it.

Last weekend we went to a local “resort” in the town of Bomet. It was a nice day of just hanging out, playing, and fellowshipping with some of the other missionaries. Who knew our kids would play in a bouncy house in Africa?! They loved every minute!

Some glimpses of our daily life…digging in the shamba (garden), straining our daily (very fresh) milk delivery, making bread, playing outside, chai time, power outages, building relationships, shopping (6 weeks’ worth!), and weekly PE class (which the boys very much enjoy).

Thank you for continuing to pray for us, and for the people here. Please continue to lift up our children, as there are still many struggles with behavior choices, etc. Parenting is not for the faint of heart! But the Lord is faithful. We know He has us right where we are with purpose, and for our good and His glory. Praying for you all too. So grateful and thankful for the many encouraging words and prayers for our family.

Posted: March 2, 2017
Under: Adventure God has us on
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