For the last 60 hours, my life has revolved around one person.
Joseph Mwangi.
I met Joseph in the park on Tuesday morning. Each weekday we go there to pass out food to some of the street kids that live in Nakuru. Most of the kids are between 10 and 16, and sometimes older boys come too. Most of the older boys are high on glue, and the younger ones are starting the same habit. We go anyway. They don’t have anyone to tell them right from wrong, or to believe in them. We just love them the best we can.
We saw Joseph in the park almost immediately after arriving Tuesday. He wore jeans, a red shirt, an old leopard print fleece pullover, and a denim hat. His arm was in a makeshift sling. I asked him what happened to his arm, and he pulled his sleeve up to reveal his swollen, wounded forearm. It was badly infected, with scarring on either sides from past treatments that had never healed properly. Joseph told me about the car accident- that his boss gave him a ride home from work, and they were driving down the highway. The car rolled, and they were both hurt. That was April 22nd, 2012.
Joseph went to a hospital in Nairobi, but they dismissed him after his bills got too high for the state to pay for him any longer. Seven thousand, five hundred shillings ($89.29) is what he told me he needed. That’s the amount they asked for that he couldn’t pay, so he had to leave.
The manual labor that 25-year-old Joseph had been doing in order to eek out a meager existence was now impossible. Furthermore, the infection in his arm, if left untreated, could eventually cause need for amputation in order to save his life. A bone infection can spread to the blood, and after that there is little hope.
I asked Joseph a string of questions to get this information. He never offered it, and he never used his story to try to get anything from me. He never asked me to help him with the doctor or give him money; he only wanted to get a cup of porridge.
As we were leaving the park on Tuesday, the street kids followed us to the gate, as usual. Joseph was with them, right behind me. I felt a probing in my spirit, and a turned around to face him
“Joseph,” I said, “I want to help you. I want to help you go to the doctor. I’m going to write a message to my family and friends to try to gather the money you need. Is it ok if I take your picture to show them?”
He told me, “Yes, it is ok.”
He smiled for the photo, and help up his arm so I could get a photo of that too. Those are the photos from the last blog that many of you read.
After ministry we went to see the homes of some of the other street boys that we know, and then went to a café with wifi. I was exhausted from walking all over town and not eating lunch, and I was accomplishing much on the Internet. I put my memory card into my computer and remembered the photos I took of Joseph and the promise I made to message my family. I almost forgot.
A new sense of urgency came over me. I had already wasted about an hour at the café without even starting the blog. I wrote it quickly- the words flew relatively naturally. Somehow it didn’t seem too hard to ask for money for Joseph, because I felt so strongly that it was needed and that it was important.
By the time we left the café, over $40 had come in.
I was getting psyched.
When we got back to our house, I borrowed a teammates internet stick to check my email again. Two more emails about Joseph. As I was checking my email, two MORE emails came in.
I had to tell three people that the money had already been supplied and they were too late to help!
I was shocked. Seriously shocked. Six hours after I posted that blog, money had come in for Joseph. More than enough. Most of the people that offered to help were people I had never met.
I couldn’t stop smiling! I told everyone on my team that God had provided- the money came in! Joseph’s arm was going to be saved! This humble street boy that earlier today had no hope for his arm was now fully funded to be healed! YES!!! GOD IS SO GOOD!!
I couldn’t even sleep that night. It was ridiculous. I just kept thinking about Joseph, about how fast the money had come in, about how his arm was going to get fixed, about how there is no way that he could doubt God’s existence when God so specifically crossed our paths so that he could be healed… I imagined recording our process of hospital visits and such so that they could be shared with all of you at home, I imagined him in his own house… and I thanked God. I thanked God for giving me a job and providing everything for me to do it. I thanked him for allowing me to be the one to help his son in need.
I couldn’t wait until morning.
