Valleys of Sorrow

We received some devastating news yesterday.

I was teaching the Bible class for the older grades in Mitumba yesterday when I noticed that I had received a text message. When i was finished teaching, I opened the message to read it. It was from Elly. He works on our compound, and we have gotten to know him and his wife, Violet, and their two boys, Wesley and Timothy over the past months. His message just said, "HI MY WIFE IS DEAD".

Violet has died. We can hardly believe it. She has been so sick for many months, but the last time we saw her she was regaining her strength and seemed to be on the road to a full recovery. Then a few weeks ago Elly sent a message saying that she was sick again and to please pray for her.
And now she has died.

We are so sad for this family. Our hearts are breaking for Elly, and for his two young boys. We cannot even begin to imagine the pain they are going through and the struggles they are facing. We want to do everything we can, but it seems like nothing will be enough. We cannot bring Violet back. But what we can do is pray. And we can ask you to pray. So please, please, overwhelm Heaven with prayers for this young family. They need it.


There was a song playing in my head all day yesterday as I spent time alone in the clinic, processing the news. God used it to speak to me, and to give me hope and assurance of His love:

You have led me to the sadness
I have carried this pain
All my back bruised and nearly broken
I'm crying out to You

I will sing of Your mercy
That leads me through valleys of sorrow
To rivers of joy

When death like a gypsy
Comes to steal what I love
I will still look to the heavens
I will still seek your face

But I fear you aren't listening
Because there are no words
Just the stillness and the hunger
For a faith that is yours

I will sing of Your mercy
That leads me through valleys of sorrow
To rivers of joy

Alleluia, alleluia
Alleluia, alleluia

While we wait for rescue
With our eyes tightly shut
Face to the ground using our hands
To cover the fatal cut

Though the pain is an ocean
Tossing us around, around, around
You have calmed greater waters
Higher mountains have come down
(Jars of Clay)

May Elly experience rivers of joy after being led through this valley of sorrow by our mighty God. May he know that our God is in control, and that He has NOT forgotten about him and his sons. May he have full assurance that God is able to calm these waters and tear down these mountains. May he feel God's comfort, His presence, and His never-ending love. May he find peace in the midst of this valley of sorrow.

"The LORD is faithful to all His promises

and loving toward all He has made.
The LORD upholds all those who fall
and lifts up all who are bowed down.
The eyes of all look to You,
and You give them their food at the proper time.
You open Your hand
and satisfy the desires of every living thing.
The LORD is righteous in all His ways
and loving toward all He has made.
The LORD is near to all who call on Him,
to all who call on Him in truth.
He fulfills the desires of those who fear Him;
He hears their cry and saves them.
The LORD watches over all who love Him,
but all the wicked He will destroy.
My mouth will speak in praise of the LORD.
Let every creature praise His holy name
for ever and ever."

Psalm 145:13-21

Happiness Is...

...the irresistibly cute face of Isack Njoroge!!


...playing in the sand.


...an intense Kenyan football game!!


...getting your football game interrupted by a herd of Masai cows! :)


...dancing with Beth Pauline!!


...two of the giggliest girls named Kaleche and Sarah!!


...beautiful feet.


...playing "old maid"!


...taking kids for rides in the car!


...leaving the slum as the sun is setting...


...faces covered in flour :)


...a full plate of food to satisfy hungry little bellies!


...making a sad little boy smile.

This is what happiness is. This, and much, much more.

A Lost Boy

I am writing this today to ask you to pray.

There is a boy named Michael. He is in the nursery class in the REM school in Mitumba, about three or four years old. He has a brother, Duke, who is also in the nursery class, who is about five years old. We know Duke well.

Their mother went crazy a few weeks ago. She seemed to lose her mind, and took her two sons away from Mitumba. Duke was afraid that he was going to get beat, and so he ran away, back to their home in the slum. But Michael stayed with his mother.

Somewhere along the way, she lost Michael.

She was found alone by police officers, and taken to a mental hospital. After some time, when she had responded to the medication and taken control of her mind and senses again, she remembered that Michael had been with her.

They went looking for him immediately, but were not able to find him. The problem is that she can't remember where she left him. She can't even remember where she was or what she was doing. She has no recollection of that time.

She is distraught. Her small son is out there somewhere. He has still not been found.

All of us are praying that God will do a miracle. It has been a couple of weeks, and so humanly speaking, we know what the probable outcome is. It doesn't seem possible that he will be found. But we also know that if God cares for the sparrow, how much more does he care for a precious little boy???

Please pray for Michael. And for Duke. And for their mother.

"What is the price of two sparrows-one copper coin? But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it. And the very hairs on your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows."

Matthew 10:29-31

A Conversation and a Broken Heart

She prayed a prayer this morning.

It went something like this…”God, break my heart with the things that break Yours.” She meant it, but she doesn’t always believe that the things she prays for really matter. She knows that God hears, but sometimes He seems far away. It’s been one of those months for her. A dry spell.
She also prayed for new eyes to see. For intentional meetings. For just one conversation with just one child. For her day to have meaning and purpose.

She works in the slum. A slum that she has grown to love. Not the slum itself, but the life it contains. The children who call it home.
She also works in the clinic, in the slum. She’s not a nurse or a doctor, you know. She just has two hands and is willing to use them. She wants to be used. She needs to be used.

There is a certain boy. He is fourteen years old. He always comes to the clinic. This day was no exception. Most times, he is not actually sick. He does not actually have a broken arm, even though he says he does. He does not have a broken leg, even though he says he does. He has no gaping wounds, even though he is convinced that he is in a life and death situation. He is just craving attention. He is craving love. He is craving someone to make sure he is okay, and to care if he is not.

He showed her his arm. Said it was paining. She could not see any evidence of wounds or anything like it. But she sensed that there was something more to his pain. Not pain in his arm, but pain in his heart. So she took time. There were no other kids needing attention. Just this boy.

She asked him a question. “How was your day yesterday?” A simple question. His answer? “Not good.”
“Do you want to tell me about it? Why was it not good?”
“I didn’t eat.” Said matter-of-factly.

She was quiet. Gave him time to gather his thoughts.

"The days that I don’t eat…I don’t like those days.”

She looked in his eyes, encouraging him to continue.

“When I come to school, at least I get lunch those days. I am okay those days. But on holidays, then there are many days when I don’t eat. Even today, when I go home, I will go to bed without eating any supper. But at least I had lunch today.”

This boy lives on his own. He is HIV+. He was kicked out of his home by his father. When he is given some food, he cooks it on his own. He knows that he likes to cook rice because rice will stay for a few days before going bad. He likes rice. He also knows that food is expensive, and that if you don’t have money, you don’t have food. He knows what it is like to not have food.

“I live by myself” he told her, even though she already knew this. “My father kicked me out of the house. My father is a drunkard. He drinks alcohol. Every day.”

“Alcohol changes people, doesn’t it?” she asked him quietly.

“Yes.” he says. He looks down at her hand, still rubbing his wrist.

Their conversation is interrupted by two giggly girls in standard three. She looks at these two girls and smiles. They are so silly.

But her conversation with the boy is over. He says ‘thank you’ to her for fixing his arm. Even though she didn’t really do anything. She’s pretty sure it’s the talk that helped more than anything to do with his arm. But she touches his arm and says ‘you are very welcome’ and tells him to come back if his arms starts to hurt again. Even though they both know that his arm was okay to begin with.

He gets the weigh scale from on top of the storage cupboard. He weighs himself. So do the two giggly girls. They are about nine years old. They each weigh more than him. He is a fourteen year old boy. But you would never know it to look at him.

He says ‘thank you’ again, and goes back to class.

She can’t stop thinking. About her own selfish heart. Her own petty problems. The things that frustrate her or make her have a bad day. But she has never been hungry. She has never gone through anything like what this boy goes through every day. She has no idea what it’s like to truly suffer. She has never suffered.

She wants to make a difference. She wants to help. She wants to be that somebody who will turn it around for him. She wants to. And yet she is wondering if any of it even matters. She feels helpless. Hopeless. Numb. Tired.

But she knows one thing: God answered her prayer today. He broke her heart. He gave her new eyes. He gave her that one conversation with that one kid. She knows that He did it for a reason. And she is ready to do whatever it takes.

This person is me. This broken heart is mine. I am ready to do whatever it takes.

Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world. ~James 1:27

To Market, To Market...

Oh the markets! We love them! It always proves to be interesting and sometimes challenging experience!!

Let me paint you a picture…

You’re walking down the road. Well, on the sidewalk, really. Cars and brightly painted matatus fly by. You trip on some potholes. Many people are walking in the same direction as you, but many people are also walking in the opposite direction, making for people everywhere.

From all around, you can hear a cacophony of sounds. Horns blaring. The sounds of buses, cars, matatus driving at break-neck speeds. People speaking in Swahili. The shop vendors calling you over. “Hello sister!! Hello brother!!” “Fiiiiifty bob, fifty bob, fifty bob…” “Looking is free!!” “jeans?? Skinny jeans??” (for some reason, that one is quite popular!! And NO, I don’t want skinny jeans!! Ha!) “I give you GOOD price!!” The sounds of roosters and chickens also greet your ears. You may get lucky and hear a street preacher, yelling at an unnatural decibel. The sound of the call to prayer from the mosque in the background.

And the smells! Let’s not forget the smells. Where do I begin??? Some are pleasant…like the smell of food cooking…but other smells are not so pleasant…like exhaust fumes and sewer and chickens…

So you continue walking, looking down at the sidewalk to view the selection of clothes, sunglasses, bananas, shoes, sugarcane, and anything else you can think of to buy! The destination is a market called Toi Market…basically just a used clothes market. You walk through a small opening in between tarps and makeshift stalls. Again, people, people everywhere! In one stall you might find jeans. Jeans, upon jeans, upon jeans!! Another stall might advertise shirts. Another one dress pants. Another shoes. Another underwear! =) And in another one you can buy all your fruit and vegetables! How handy is that!?! =)

If it’s jeans you want, you duck into one of the number of stalls that sells them. The shop keeper will either ask your size, or just guess your size, oftentimes being dead on! You duck behind a makeshift fitting room…which is just a sheet draped across a corner…fun, fun! =)

You decide on a price…and of course, the price that is started with is not the set price, so skilful bartering is involved, made more interesting by the number of shop vendors that have had a bit too much to drink that afternoon…again, good times!

As you leave the stall, happy with your purchase, make sure you are careful where you step…in between the mud, sharp rocks, sticks, and any other number of random pieces of garbage, it is quite easy to trip and fall…

Many street children also frequent markets like this one…hoping for a few shillings or some food. If between all this other stuff you were able to forget where you were, seeing the street kids will never let you forget. It is sobering and disheartening, making you think about your role and purpose, and always trying to decide the right thing to do.

One experience I had with buying a pair of shoes was funny…I saw a pair that I liked and so tried one of the shoes on. (the other wasn’t there…oftentimes they are not set out together to prevent theft…) Anyway, I liked the shoe and it fit. I had begun bartering on the price, when I asked if I could try on the other shoe. The man didn’t want to let me. I insisted that I needed to try on both, or I would not be buying. He insisted that I did not need to try on both. I just stood there and looked at him….so he THREW the shoe down at my feet…where I realized that first of all, it was BROKEN! I called him on this, and he said that no, it would still be just fine. Just to show him that it wasn‘t fine, I put it on my foot…where I then realized that it wasn’t even the same size!! He was mad that I realized this, and I laughed at him, telling him I didn’t know how he could try to sell a broken shoe to me, and not just that, but a pair of shoes that were different sizes! He walked away, mad…I walked away, laughing! Good times at Toi Market…!!

So….that wraps up a typical trip to the market…we’ll never be able to buy a pair of jeans or any other piece of clothing at a set price anymore!! Look out Canadian clothing stores…Andrea and Trevor are back in December… =)

Getting Hit by a Lorry...and Other Forms of Nairobi Fun...

So….the next big news is….

We are not coming home August 31 after all! We have been given an extension of 3 months…so our return date has been changed to December 10!
We are very excited about this, and are so glad for the way this will allow us to continue in our life and ministries here for a little while longer. (and glad that we will still be home for Christmas!)

Thank you all so much for all your prayers on our behalf these last few weeks. God has answered them tremendously, and we are doing much better. We are very thankful to all of you for your faithful prayer support, and feel so blessed that you stood with us during this difficult time.

Another big thing that happened was that we got into a traffic accident last Saturday. Now we feel properly initiated into Nairobi…=) Ha, no, but it could have been so much worse than it was, and nobody got hurt. A lorry (big truck, for those of you confused by the word “lorry”!!) hit the vehicle that we were driving as we were coming out of a round-about (traffic circle =) ), on our way home from Mitumba. The lorry hit the passenger side door where I was sitting, and the window shattered all over me. Other than that, nobody got hurt at all. The events following were quite frustrating…think about corrupted police officers, bribes, being wrongfully accused…I don’t really want to write the details on here, we’ll save that story for when we talk to you in person! =) But it was cause for some stress (especially for Trevor) and a long day. We made it through, though, and are back to a normal life!

One of “our” boys, Amo, had heard about this accident, but hadn’t been told any details. He assumed then that it meant that we had died, and nobody told him otherwise! He said to me, later, “Andrea, I thought you had been killed, and I wanted to just kill myself!” He spent that night not sleeping, just praying for a miracle. The following Monday he waited to see me, but I didn’t come. (with all the chaos with our accident, it ended up being a busy day on Monday, so I had told Pastor that I would not be able to make it to Mitumba, but he had not informed the students why I was not there…) So Amo figured that all was lost, and that it was really true that we were gone. This poor boy had worried for four days. When I came to the slum on Wednesday, Amo came up to the clinic and said “Andrea! You’re here!!” And then proceeded to tell me the story of what he thought had happened. Oh I felt so bad for him. He stayed up in the clinic with me for a big part of the day, just spending time with me, looking at me, touching my arm every once in awhile…

It reminded me of the great responsibility we have to these youth. The way they depend on us and look up to us makes me realize that we need to do right by them. We need to make sure we are there for them. To love them the way they don’t get loved by anyone else. We love, love, love these precious kids, and it has become very evident these last few weeks that the feeling is mutual. After hearing about our accident, we got calls and texts from different youth, and one of the boys showed up at our Church the next day to make sure we were okay. What amazing kids. Amazing, amazing kids. We have been so blessed.

Other than all that…life has settled into a bit more of a regular routine again. Trevor being as busy as ever at work again, but able to enjoy it again these days! Benedicto has been gone all week…he went up-country to visit his wife and children in Kakamega, and to work in his shamba (garden/fields) before the rains stop. Mark is still working on being re-settled in the US, which seems to be going really well. He has had quite a few successful interviews and has high hopes to be able to go to America soon. Steven has invited us to his daughter’s 2-year birthday party in August! We are really looking forward to this! And Rueben continues to show up faithfully every morning, even when he has a really bad toothache! Trevor has been really blessed to be able to work with these four men. They are all really excited and thankful that we are able to extend our stay and that we are planning to come back to Kenya.

I have been still enjoying going to Mitumba…and I’ve had some good times playing football with the boys, singing silly songs with the girls, visiting with them whenever I have the chance, sitting in on the debates that the older classes have been having, cleaning many bloody wounds and wrapping sprained hands, teaching the Bible class, and loving on little Marcy! =) Life is good.

I told them the other day that we are able to stay until December…you should have heard the cheers, and whooping and hollering! It was so cute! They were so happy, and so are we! Like I said…life is good!

We are so thankful to God for all He has done!