Angel Wing

If you see some brother or sister in need and have the means to do something about it but turn a cold shoulder and do nothing, what happens to God’s love? It disappears.

And you made it disappear. 

1 John 3:17 MSG

As soon as we left campus, I began to sob.  I mentally went through the checklist of items I knew my daughter would need during her first year at college, and then I sobbed some more.  How would she manage so far away from home?  More to the point, how would I manage without her?

That was four years ago.  Four years of missed birthdays, missed performances, holiday greetings via Skype, and more.  It wasn't easy.  In fact, as I sat in the audience before the commencement exercises began, I couldn't help but complain to the Lord.  I had been cheated.  How could He allow me to miss so many key events in the life of my child?  I should have been there for her.  It wasn't fair.

When her name was called, I sat straight up in my seat, straining to see my daughter as she received her diploma.  For just an instant, I couldn't believe it.  Was that lovely young woman I saw walking confidently across the stage really my little girl?  I jumped up, cheered wildly, and uttered my best Kenyan sigalagala.

When I sat back down, I heard others cheering for my child, and it was then that I realized an important truth.  My daughter has never been alone.  Throughout the past four years, the Lord has used others to stand in the gap, to support her, and to love her. They have all played a part in keeping Jessica connected to the Lord and the Army.  She has been mentored and loved by family, by friends, and even by people I have never met.  All of them have cared for her when I couldn't. And I said to myself, "Thank you, Lord."  

Smith College Graduation

A few days later, while walking through a trendy little bookshop that had been one of my daughter's college hangouts, I read a quote by Luciano De Crescenzo:

We are each of us angels with only one wing,

and we can only fly by embracing one another.

Reading this, I thought back to when we had invited the street boys of Kakamega to visit our THQ compound.  They told us stories of their life on the street. Their clothes were filthy and ragged, and many had untreated sores and wounds.  One young man was in obvious pain, favoring a broken leg that, due to a lack of medical treatment, had started to set improperly.  When we asked how the Army could help, most mentioned simple things -- a shower, clean clothes, a haircut, some food. The more ambitious ones said that they yearned for safety or a chance to go to school.

Cleaning Nails and Washing Feet

Of course, we said that we'd do everything we could to help. Then, while we were waiting for breakfast to be served, I asked if I could teach them my favorite Swahili chorus, which roughly translates as, "With Jesus on the throne, things are getting better." I started to sing, and to my amazement, they all enthusiastically joined in. When I asked how they knew that song, one young man told me that a local church sometimes picks them up and takes them to Sunday School.

Another lesson learned. God does not expect me to meet all the needs of the street boys. He just needs me to stand in the gap. 

Lord, I thank you for all those who helped my daughter take flight.  And I thank you for the opportunity to be someone else's angel today.

Shifting Sand

Come, let us sing with joy to the Lord.

 Let us sing loud with joy to the rock who saves us. 

 Psalm 95:1 

Last Sunday morning, Ken and I climbed into our vehicle and took a long safari into the bush to visit the Mulimani Corps, which is actually built on huge boulders at the top of a large hill.  As we were touring the rocky compound, I couldn't help but imagine myself as a mountain goat -- with heels, of course.  I also started humming one of my old favorites, "On Christ the Solid Rock I Stand."

A few days later, I was given the incredible honor of dedicating a building at the Army's Kolanya Health Centre.  Some of Ken's ancestors (Captains Pell) served at Kolanya in the late 1920's, which made the event even more meaningful to me.

Mrs. Captain Pell 

Construction is not one of my areas of expertise, but as I was shown around the building, I asked the contractor, village chief, and local elders what I hoped were appropriate questions about its foundations and structure.  I think they were a bit surprised by the fact that a woman had been chosen to lead the dedication, but they were all very kind, and they proudly showed off their work.  We then visited the Army's clinic, where I prayed with each patient, and we ended the day with a quick visit to the maternity ward that is now under construction.  Again, I was assured that it had been built on a firm foundation.  What a wonderful ministry!

The Maternity Ward -- Almost Complete!

Visits like that never fail to thrill me, as I'm able to see first-hand how the Lord is using the Army to meet the needs of His people.  I've also found, however, that the next day in the office can often be very difficult, because it's then that I find myself at my desk, trying desperately to find solutions to the difficult problems that confront us.  This week, for example, Kenya's President signed into law a bill allowing men to take as many wives as they wish without consulting their current partner.  Despite the fact that it is now illegal, we are still receiving reports about Junior Home League members being taken by village elders for female circumcision.  The most recent economic survey reported that Kakamega County has the highest number of poor in Kenya, with 56% of the population below the poverty line.  And to top it all off, because desperate people can do desperate things, we always have to be on our guard.

It's at such moments that I thank the Lord for being my rock and my foundation.  When everything around me seems to be shifting, I know that I am safe in His care.

But it doesn't end there.  In my devotions, the Lord reminded me of the song penned by William Doame:

Rescue the perishing, care for the dying,
 Snatch them in pity from sin and the grave;
Weep o’er the erring one, lift up the fallen, 
Tell them of Jesus, the mighty to save. 

It is not enough for me to stand on the rock and declare sanctuary.  I have to get on my knees and reach down into the shifting sands.  I have to grasp the hands of as many as I can, that they too may find safety.