My life will forever be changed from my experience in Kenya. I learned first hand that God is so good, sovereign and has a great sense of humor. I had my first Dr. Pepper in 4 months and enjoyed a spa day with the girls on my team.
I was blessed beyond words to have my dad fly to Kenya to visit me and do ministry with me. God did an amazing work in both of us that week including our relationship with God and one another. The relationships are now much deeper and more intimate. I’m forever grateful for that. I hadn’t seen my dad in over seven months when he stepped off the plane in Nairobi. He had just flown half way around the world to see me, and it meant more to me than words can express. My entire life I’ve struggled with feeling like a burden, and when I found out we could invite parents to come to Kenya I hesitated about even asking my parents. I knew Go were busy and couldn’t really afford to take off work let alone pay $1300 for a plane ticket. But I felt led to ask anyway. They responded as I’d imagined they would. Too busy, too expensive, but they’ll pray about it. I figured that was a cop out and that would be the end of it.
A few weeks later I opened my email to find a Priceline itinerary for a flight to Kenya for my dad. God told him to come, and he obeyed. My mom already had plans for the week after the trip, a cruise with my sister and her kids, so she couldn’t come. I couldn’t believe it. My dad was coming to Africa.
So when the day finally arrived, I was ecstatic! We spent the first day touring the largest slums in the world accompanied by two personal bodyguards. I was blessed to have made several friends in Kenya, one of whom is very dear to me, and will forever be a part of my life and story. They were gracious enough to be our tour guides for the day.
That evening we headed to Kijabe, Kenya where we would be doing ministry for the week. We were involved in a variety of ministry activities including praying for people at the hospital, praying for and talking to the displaced families living in tents, building mud huts, playing games and doing crafts with kids and orphans, and just sharing the love of Jesus with everyone we met.
One day while the men were working on a woman’s house the women were outside playing with the 30+ children who had gathered around to check out the mizungos. We sang songs, played games and went for a walk around the village. I even got to carry a baby on my back for a few hours like the locals do. We had a great time, and I was so thankful we got to share the story of Jesus with these kids and just have a fun day with them.
That evening it rained. And it rained some more. It rained more than it had in a decade, since El Nino the locals said. It rained all night and the next morning we woke up to a horrific reality. Mudslides ripped through Kijabe and took out fifteen houses and made several roads impassable. From our bedroom window my dad and I could see trees blocking mud covered roads and a line of cars waiting for people to clear the road so they could pass. We tried walking up the road to the store, but the mud on the ground was slicker than ice. For fear of face planting I stopped and waited as Dad continued up the road. By the time he returned his white shoes were black with mud and I’d acquired a new friend, John. John was 15 and one of the kids we played with the day before. He waited with me and then walked back with Dad and me to the hospital to check on a teammate who had a horrible infection in his hand from making a mud hut house.
On the way we talked to the man who we had worked with the day before and he told us one of the houses that the mudslide took out had three kids inside and they all died. I asked John if he knew the kids who died, he unemotionally responded yes. I pulled out my phone and showed him photos from the day before and asked if the kids who died were in any of my photos. He said yes they were, and he continued to point out all three of the boys, brothers, in one of my photos. My heart broke into a thousand pieces as a million questions and thoughts circled in my mind. Why did God allow this to happen? Were they believers? How would their parents ever recover? Did I do all I could to love them well and tell them about Jesus on their last day on earth? I was angry with God for allowing this to happen. It wasn’t their fault they couldn’t afford a more stable home. It wasn’t their fault they grew up in an area where mudslides were common. I couldn’t hide my sorrow or stop my tears as the brevity of life shattered my sense of invincibility and fairness.
We are not promised tomorrow. We better make sure everyday counts. We need to ensure our hearts are right with God and with one another. We may never get another chance to laugh, tell someone we’re sorry or tell him or her that we love them. I’m so thankful I got to spend time with those children before their life ended. I also came face to face with the level of poverty and desperation most people live with on a daily basis. My young friend John was walking around the muddy, bacteria infested roads with nothing but a pair of flip-flops. He couldn’t even afford a $7 pair of rain boots. Of the 15 families who lost their homes that day, it would only cost $50 a month to put them up at a local boy’s home. Sadly the man running the home only had enough funds to take in a few of the families and only for a few weeks. The rest would be left homeless. There is no welfare, no shelters, no food stamps, no FEMA, no government assistance to help these people. For a little more than the price of a dinner out you could help these families have shelter and food for an entire month.
On Sunday Dad preached at the church I had been working with all month, Deliverance Church Southlands. Pastor Joseph had asked him to preach the previous week. His message was simple, “Live simply so that others may simply live.” It was the best message I’ve ever heard my father preach, and I’ve probably heard him preach over 500 times in my life. God touched his heart in a deep way that week, and I’m so thankful I got to witness it. I’m so excited to go home and spend more time with my dad. He is the best dad a girl could ask for. He has shown me what it means to be a man of God, and what type of guy I should marry. He has set the bar very high for me, and for that I am forever grateful. He loves Jesus, his wife, his kids and grandkids with a fierce godly love. I’m so glad he is my dad!
It’s a little late, but Happy Father’s Day Dad. I love you so much! Thank you for all you have sacrificed for me over the years. Thank you for being an example of a godly man and pointing me to Jesus. I may not be so little anymore, but I will always be your little girl. I can’t wait to see you in 30 days!
