This is a real Christmas story happening right now in Eldoret, Kenya.
This is no cheesey holiday story written to warm your heart. This is the real thing.
This is what Christmas is all about; this is what Christ is all about.
Marisa Banas, one of the current
World Racers, has embarked on a journey of faith this Christmas, that has led her to the crossroads of faith verses fear.
We all have the opportunity to be a part of this incredible story. Will
you help twelve year old Allen leave the streets behind and give him the opportunity to become a son?
PART ONE:
“Marisa, do you have a first aid kit? The street kid in the purple shirt cut his hand pretty bad.” I didn’t have one but I was on it like brown on rice. Frantically searching, I finally found one, along with Jessica my teammate who is an Army nurse.
A half hour later, we were ready to give him medical care that would have cost him thousands of dollars if he were in the states. Our patient’s name was Allen, our purple-shirted, glue-sniffing-street kid friend. Three years prior he fled his home due to his abusive mother. He wore all he owned and his prize possession was the empty whisky bottle filled with shoe glue that hung from his lip. As long as that gooey orange substance was in the bottom of his bottle, he didn’t have to think about how his mom abused him, or that he had to sleep on the cold ground next to burning tires that served as his blanket.
PART TWO:
As we walked back to the church, Allen half naked I kept thinking, “He needs a father.” Back at the church Allen tried to stay warm in the sun as his clothes were hung out to dry and I sat on a bench plucking the hundreds of sharp prickers from his sweatshirt. Meshack made his way over to me to help with the plucking and together we watched Allen fall off into a daze as he took a few strong sniffs of his remedy. Heartbroken, I said to Meshack, “He needs a father.” After a brief silence and to my great surprise he said, “Okay, I will take him home to my mother. She will take care of him.”
A few discussions later Meshack consulted Allen and asked him if he wanted to go home with him. His answer, “Praise God.”
PART THREE:
As we walked to her house I put my arm around him and reached my hand over to his heart. We asked him what he was feeling but again, another “Good.” His heartbeat told me different. It beat as if he were running a marathon. When we introduced him to Meshack’s mother I saw him breathe a sigh of relief. He was happy. We decided that Allen because there was no bed there for him yet, we would take him home with us for the first night.
PART FOUR:
We rounded the corner and walked to the fifth door on the left, the door that I planned on him walking through every day. Mama was sitting on the bed. The room has no light so I could only see the whites of her eyes and her white teeth. With ewwie gooey grandma style love she adored him with her smile.
I insisted that we take Allen around the small village to meet some friends. Perhaps I am too protective, but hey this Mama thing is new for me. On our way back to the house I realized that it was getting late and Mama wasn’t cooking dinner. “Meshack, has Mama already eaten,” I asked. His smile faded to a terrifying look of confusion. “There is no food.” Devastated at the thought I inquired into what I didn’t want to know the answer to. “How often does your mother eat?”
Head down he said, “Only when I can bring food.” Each word was like a ton of bricks falling on me. “Marisa, I have no job.” I looked at him in disbelief. As I tried to process what he was telling me I heard my teammate Sharon, who was video taping the happy homecoming whispered aloud, “If he doesn’t have food, he’ll go back to the streets and sniff glue.”
PART FIVE:
Allen’s life is in the balance because of a severe miscommunication. I assumed that a man who says he is going to take a child in would be able to provide for him. Meshack assumed that an American would sponsor him. Both of us have moved in faith and compassion for this child with no intentions of doing any harm and yet the consequences are screaming at us. Did we move in presumption or was it faith?
I walked through the open doors. I extended my hand as if it were Jesus’. Will I grow weary in doing good? Will I let the fear or real consequences change the faith that I had when I delighted in God about how He chose Allen?
Today I hold Allen’s actual life in my hands, a responsibility that I would NEVER choose to bring upon myself. I don’t have the money to support him myself. I don’t have the knowledge of the many cultural issues that are intertwined in this circumstance. I can’t even communicate with the child. All I have to steer this ship is the peace of God that drives me with a perseverance that is not my own. There is no way to tell what the last sentence of Allen’s story will read, but I do know this. 2 Thes 1:11 “With this in mind we constantly pray for you that our God may count you worthy of his calling and by his power he may fulfill every good purpose of yours and every act prompted by your faith. We pray this so that the Name of our Lord may be glorified in you, and you in him, according to the grace of our God and Lord Jesus Christ.”
I will do what is mine to do, and let the next do what is theirs to do…in faith.
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