What do you see?

And now, brothers, as I close this letter, let me say this one more thing: 

Fix your thoughts on what is true and good and right. Think about things that are pure and lovely, and dwell on the fine, good things in others. 

Think about all you can praise God for and be glad about. 

Philippians 4:8 (TLB)

When the alarm went off, Ken jumped out of bed.  I, on the other hand, groaned, turned over, and pulled the blanket over my head.  I was going over my options. On the one hand,  I could muster up enough energy to get up and prepare for the day, or alternatively, I could just tell Ken that I was unwell, send him on his way, and go back to sleep.  Boy, I thought, that would be so easy.

Now before you judge me too harshly, keep in mind that you've had similar thoughts on occasion.  And just like you, I eventually crawled out of bed, got dressed, and was ready to go by the time our driver arrived.

The new corps we were scheduled to visit does not yet have an officer.  So as we often do, we have placed an accepted candidate in charge, which keeps the Army running and gives that individual some experience before he or she goes to training.  When Ken and I arrived, we were warmly greeted by the young leader and her local officers and quickly ushered into the quarters for breakfast.

The quarters, I should mention, consists of a two-room mud hut.  It has no power, no running water, no ceiling, and no floor.  It is simply mud and sticks.  That's it.  But when Ken asked the candidate if she was comfortable in her home, she smiled broadly, threw out her arms and exclaimed, "Oh, yes Commissioner!  I have never lived in such a big home.  And it's all mine!"  She was not kidding. 

There was more to come.  When the time came for the offering during worship, the people of the corps made their way forward to give their tithes and offering.  But after most had resumed their seats, an elderly woman walked to the front cradling three small eggs.  It was all she had, but she too wanted to give her tithe.  She turned to the congregation and began to speak quickly in Swahili, asking if anyone would buy an egg for five shillings so that she could give it to the church.  There was no response.

I looked at Ken with that, "Do something!" look.  He leapt up and said that they looked like wonderful eggs, and said that we'd take two -- at 100 shillings each.  Then he pulled the district officer to his feet, who took the hint and offered to buy the third for another 100 shillings.  The woman smiled from ear to ear, and the congregation burst into applause.  Those few moments only raised about $3 for the corps, but the blessing was priceless.  And by the way, the district officer got all three eggs. 

Driving home, I thought about how these two women had touched me that day, and I was reminded of a quote by Eckhart Tolle:

The primary cause of unhappiness is never the situation, but your thoughts about it.

I silently asked the Lord for forgiveness.  That morning, I had focused on all of the reasons I shouldn't get out of bed.  What I didn't see was the gift of a brand new day, an opportunity to worship, and a chance to be blessed beyond measure.  The truth is that, when you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.  It's all a matter of perspective.

My prayer, dear Lord, is that my perspective will be yours, and that no matter what I encounter, I'll always see you in it.    

Is It Time for Tea?

Jesus replied, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. The second most important is similar:
 ‘Love your neighbor as much as you love yourself'...... Keep only these and you will find that you are obeying all the others.”  

Matthew 22:36-40.

I make lists.  I can't help it.  Lists are my attempt to control the chaos around me, to make sure that I'm covering all of my responsibilities, and to achieve some sense of accomplishment at the end of each day.  

And there has been plenty of chaos in my life recently.  For one thing, the government is widening the main road through Kakamega, a process which destroys literally everything in its path.  The gracious old trees that used to line the road through town are now just firewood.  More important, the construction has leveled some of the small businesses established by the women we're trying to bring out of prostitution.  It's even brought down the walls of the local prison.  Oddly enough, though, there have been no escapes.  

As part of the municipal make-over, the Army was asked two weeks ago to round up the street boys with whom we work and deliver them to the local juvenile detention facility. One official said, "If you feed one mouse, more will come."  We refused.

Thanks to our Social Services Secretary and a generous donor,
our street boys (to whom we refer as "Martha's Boys") will look smart in their new uniforms
when they sit for their National Exams.  This mama couldn't be more proud!

At the same time, all the work needed to put on a fundraiser for the Chapel at our new Officers Training College has kept us very busy.  I was glad, of course, to see that the whole community, including a number of official dignitaries, gave active support to the event.  One of the politicians even arrived at the event by helicopter.  As usual, though, a number of the checks were postdated.  It's at moments like that when I feel as if all my work is for nothing, and I come to the depressing realization that no list will ever be able to fix it all.

But as I lay in bed the other night, wallowing in self-pity, the Lord reminded me of a quote from Ken Blanchard: 

Jesus came to Earth not to build a religion, but to create relationships. 

So often we focus on organisational problems - the buildings, the finances, the systems, the results. That's not right.  We shouldn't put the programmes before the people.  If anything, Christianity is about putting aside the lists, the ledgers, and the plans, and simply loving others through the chaos of life. 

You know, I think I'll put down my day planner now.  Let's see who wants tea.

Useful Trash

One man's trash is another man's treasure. 
English Proverb

As I passed the guards this week on my early morning walk, I noticed the huge smiles on their faces.  "Oh, thank you Mum!  Thank you for the plastics!"  I had no idea what they were talking about until one of them said, "Our children now have lunchboxes."   Then it occurred to me.  Sometimes I will place bags of washed recyclables on our back porch for the workers on our compound.  So as I walked away, I thanked the Lord for plastic ice cream containers, which are now prized by others as lunchboxes.

Paul and Joseph, Two of Our Guards at Shimalavandu

The truth is that I hate to waste anything.  For example, knowing that I love yogurt, Ken frequently scours the markets for my favorite treat.  Some months I have to go without, but when he does find some, I make the most of it.  After getting as much as I can with a spoon, I'll use my fingers to scoop out the last drop from every container.  But not just to eat.  I've found that a small amount works wonders as a cleanser or as a face mask (with honey -- Yum!).  And when I can only get an expired container, I just comb the yogurt into my hair as a conditioner.  The only danger there, of course, is that I have to make sure I don't go to the office with hair that smells like sour milk!

I always thought I was pretty good at recycling, but our Martha's Boys (street boys) really put me to shame.  Kakamega has no trash service, which means that all rubbish is simply thrown into a pile and burned.  So we were skeptical when the boys planted seeds a few months ago on the THQ trash heap in order to grow food.  But now their plants are thriving.  One boy recently said to our Social Services Secretary, "See Mama Major, it 's just like us.  From garbage, good things can grow."

In my devotions, the Lord brought James 1:2-4 to my attention:

Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles of any kind come your way,
consider it an opportunity for great joy.  For you know that when your faith is tested,
your endurance has a chance to grow.
So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed,
you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing.  

Perhaps that's something I've been wasting.  When God allows a trial to enter my life, He surely has a purpose for it.  So instead of wasting the opportunity, I should squeeze out of that situation every ounce of spiritual growth that I can.

There's a blessing in every trial, and I am determined not to waste a single one.

Have I Been Wrong All Along?

Be strong enough to stand alone, smart enough to know when you need help,

 and brave enough to ask for it. 

Ziad K. Abdelnour

President Obama has arrived!  The local news is reporting that two-thirds of Kenya's security forces have been taken to Nairobi to protect "the most powerful man alive." People are flocking to the big city to get a glimpse of their hero as he returns to his ancestral homeland.  And those who can't go are doing their best to stay fully informed. On a walk around our compound yesterday, I was tickled to find our three security guards huddled around a radio listening to the Star Spangled Banner as the announcer reported every detail of the President's arrival.

Maasai men watching Obama's arrival on TV

I've also noticed that rumors are everywhere.  "Why are the market shelves empty?"   "Obama's security personnel have stopped shipments."  "Why haven't we had internet this week?"  "Obama's security detail has blocked it." "The crops are dry, where is the rain?" " The nation has been praying for dry weather for Obama's visit."

But while everyone's attention seems to be on the American President, I do have to admit that mine has not.  My attention has been on the women with whom I have the privilege of serving at Territorial Headquarters.  Three of the ladies in my department are ill -- one with typhoid, another with malaria, and a third with pneumonia. In fact, a fourth is on bed rest with a blood clot in her leg.  I have been praying hard that they will all get appropriate medical care.

At the same time, one of my expatriate friends recently woke up to find that her husband had died during the night, leaving her with young children to raise.  She is a successful, independent business woman, but now she finds herself desperate for the support of a faith community.

During my prayer time for these women, the Lord brought 1 Corinthians 12:21 to mind:

The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” 

And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you."  

Suddenly I realized that for years I have been striving to empower the women in my ministry to be independent agents, relying solely upon God.  Have I been wrong?

Dedicating the community well in Sabatia

Perhaps I should have been encouraging them simply to do their part, and then to let others do theirs.  After all, even the most powerful man in the world needs help. Interdependence is what we really need.  We need a healthy, reciprocal relationship in which parties are mutually influenced by, supported by, and helped by one another.  We need to trust and rely on each other's unique contributions.  That is why God has given each one a gift that can benefit the entire Body of Christ.

So maybe independence is overrated.  After all, being interdependent takes a lot more guts.  It takes trust, faith, and courage to lean on someone else.  And it takes the strength to hold them up as well.  

Off Road Adventure

Dear brothers, is your life full of difficulties and temptations? Then be happy,  for when the way is is rough, your patience has a chance to grow.  So let it grow, and don’t try to squirm out of your problems. For when your patience is finally in full bloom, then you will be ready for anything, strong in character, full and complete. 
 James 1:2-4   TLB

Our recent staff conference was a big success, but I confess that I was looking forward to getting home to Kakamega.  I missed my own bed, and was craving an American-style tuna fish sandwich!

A Typical Meal at the Staff Conference

We arrived at the compound gate, were saluted by the security guard, and drove in. When we reached our quarters, we climbed out of the mud-covered vehicle and fiddled with the key ring to find the correct skeleton key to open the steel gate.  Then Ken searched his keys once again to find the right key to open the front door.  As I waited, I thought about the recent discussion our staff has been having about beefing up security in light of terrorists threats.  "Great," I thought, "Then it will take forever to get in the house."

The Security Gate on Our Compound

As we entered, I did my usual loud tap dance so as to scare away unsuspecting critters. Then I reached over to turn on the light.  No power.  Ken put down the suitcases and went back out, only to learn that our area had been without power for several days, and that the generator had run out of fuel.  So he sat down to call the Property Secretary while I said a little prayer.  Please, Lord, don't let me lose everything in my freezer.

My next job was to check the house for any floods that may have occurred during our absence. Fortunately, there were none, but for some strange reason, the hallway floor was covered in termite wings.  I went into the washroom, and as I turned, a large spider descended from the ceiling right in front of my face.  Really? I whined.  In the past, that alone would have sent me yelling for Ken to "do something."  But since a deadly black mamba was found in our back garden recently, spiders just don't get the same reaction from me that they used to.  Of course, it doesn't help that, while cleaning Ken's study last week, I found a snake skin.

Yes, life here is just one little adventure after another.

Our family has been in Kenya for more than five and one-half years now, and this place has become home in many ways.  The cows, pigs, and occasional baboons blocking the road just make me giggle. I've learned to let my body flop around inside our vehicle to avoid another whiplash on the rough roads.  Police officers with AK-47's don't even get a rise out of me.  I've made good friends with the guards who search me whenever I enter the market, and I've even learned to stand on my toes when planting a tree so as to prevent my heels from sinking into the mud.  Try doing that while hundreds of people are watching!

But once in a while, as you would anywhere, I hit a rough patch.  That's when I have to remind myself of what van Gogh said:

"Normality is a paved road.  It's comfortable to walk on, but no flowers grow on it."

God puts us in uncomfortable situations now and then in order to stretch us and force us to exercise our faith.  He does that because He loves us too much to leave us where we are.

So while I'm never sure where he is taking me, I choose to be patient as the Lord guides me over the rough terrain. With His help, I'll continue to grow into a woman strong in character, full and complete.  Bring on the adventure!

What Do You See?

Faith is being sure of what we hope for. It is being sure of what we do not see.

Hebrews 11:1 (NIV)

Ken found me rummaging through the cupboards before the sun came up, an empty Easter basket in my hand.  "Sweetheart," he gently asked, "What are you doing?"  Turning to him with tears in my eyes, I whimpered, "I haven't been able to find anything to put in your Easter basket."  With an understanding smile, he pulled me into his arms and whispered, "It's OK, darling."

Standing there together, I thought about the ways in which we would celebrate different holidays before Ken and I entered international service.   A loyal disciple of Martha Stewart, I always made sure our home was decorated.  It didn't matter how important the holiday was for me.  I was determined that it would be special for my family.  So that morning, as I sobbed and apologized, I came to the conclusion that I had not only failed my husband, but I had probably let Martha down as well.

I was still in a bit of a funk as we left the quarters to conduct the Easter meeting.  But as I stepped out the door, I spied a lovely lily in our garden. "Look!" I shouted.  "Have you ever seen an Easter lily around here?"  Ken and our driver just shrugged their shoulders. "It's an Easter miracle just for me!" I yelled.

Believe it or not, it was only a few minutes later that I saw a baby lamb on the side of the road.  No, really.  Then, as we were driving into the compound in which we would worship, I saw not one, but two rabbits.  I could hardly contain myself.  As we got out of our vehicle, I exclaimed to the District Officer,  "There are two bunnies over there!" Oddly, he didn't see my announcement as big news, but I nevertheless turned to our driver, gave him my phone, and said, "Take some pictures of my miracle!"

Sitting in the corps quarters a few minutes later, I found myself listening to a conversation about the Army's primary school in that community.  And for no reason in particular, it suddenly occurred to me that I had never seen a Kenyan child with glasses. I asked about this, and I was told that most families simply can't afford glasses.  Parents rely instead on herbal remedies, and when that doesn't work, the children simply drop out of school.  They can't read a book, they can't see the blackboard, and they can't take the tests.  My heart broke.  The solution was so simple.

A Typical Class in Our Schools

On the way home, the two strands of thought came together. I thought about my Easter miracles and about the children who couldn't see the blackboard.  I remembered something that Thoreau wrote:

"It's not what you look at that matters.  It is what you see."

It's easy to be blinded by the glare of the physical world, and without the spectacles of faith, our vision of what is and what should be can be way off the mark.  The lily, the lamb, and the bunnies of my Easter Sunday could have been overlooked, dismissed as a mere coincidence.  Or maybe, just maybe, they were a gift from a loving God to his homesick child, telling her that no matter where she is, she's home.

So tell me.  What do you see?

Heaven's Gain

For to me, living means opportunities for Christ, and dying—well, that’s better yet!

Philippians 1:21 

The long rains have finally arrived.  Bushes that I thought had died are turning green. The dust that seemed to cover everything has been washed away, and even the dirt itself has come to life with worms and other insects. Farmers are breathing a sigh of relief, and families are celebrating God's provision in newly-filled water tanks, wells, and ponds.  Our THQ family is even celebrating the safe arrival of two perfect little babies.  This Territorial Mama could not be more pleased and more proud.

Madzuu Salvationists Carrying Water

But although we are rejoicing in new life, death is always nearby.  Last week, one of our corps treasurers was murdered.  The young son of an officer couple went to bed and never woke up.  On Sunday, a home league secretary was killed in an accident outside the corps compound after worship.  Five members of one Army family was hospitalized after eating poisoned rice, and while most recovered, one young boy did not.

A Typical Coffin Made in Kenya

I never did like that well-known quote:

Our Loss is Heaven's Gain. 

But for me, that phrase has taken on new meaning.  While we spend a great deal of our time using health charts, teaching disease prevention, and partnering with medical professionals, we are not here to be doctors. We are not here as police or security. We're here for heavenly purposes.

So I suppose it's true.  If we take every opportunity to point others to Christ and to the salvation He offers, our loss will always be Heaven's gain.  And when we all get to Heaven, what a day of rejoicing that will be.

Armed with Weakness

He answered me, “I am all you need. I give you My loving favor.  My power works best in weak people.”  I am happy to be weak and have troubles
so I can have Christ’s power in me.
^{2 Corinthians 12:9b (NLV)} 

Last week I was escorted to Amalemba market to visit a few of the women in our Survivors program. These are women who have made their living as prostitutes, but with the encouragement of the Army, are now running small businesses instead.

I couldn't have been more proud.  One young girl showed me her business license as I stepped into the tiny wooden shack where she sells homemade chips (french fries). "Someday," she said, "I am going to have a dress shop."  Another woman sells fruits and vegetables, and yet another coal.  I was amazed, however, to discover that one has opened a hair salon, complete with electricity.  After she played with my mzungu hair for a few moments, she took us on a tour of the market, proudly announcing that she has been appointed as the manager.

A Truly Perfect Salon

Recently Ken and I visited a corps in the bush that is led by a lovely young couple.  They serve the people of a poor mountain community, which means that their corps hall, quarters, and kitchen are all made of cow dung and mud.  They are also unable to find school fees for their children.  In fact, they struggle to feed them.

Yet when we asked the young officer about his calling, he simply replied, "The Lord called me to sacrifice.  That is why I am here."  I guess it's not surprising that this couple is greatly loved, not only by the corps, but by the entire community.  It's also no surprise that souls are being won for Christ, and that the corps is growing by leaps and bounds. The hall won't be made of mud and dung for long!

The Corps Hall

We conduct an Officers Councils somewhere in the Territory approximately twice a month.  Recently we visited a district where, as usual, everyone came dressed in their best uniform.  But I'll never forget one young officer who sat proudly in the front row.  I couldn't take my eyes off her, and it wasn't because the insignia on her uniform had been stapled on, or that her shoes were so worn I wasn't sure how they stayed on her feet.  It was because she took notes with a fury.  It was as if she was determined not to miss a single element of the messages we shared that day.  I was captivated by her passion for the things of God.

I am reminded every day that I serve alongside some amazing people. Despite a range of difficult circumstances, they continue to live their lives with enthusiasm, passion, joy and commitment. Nothing gets in their way.

I now understand Fredrick Phillips when he said:

It is often hard to distinguish between the hard knocks in life and those of opportunity.
                   

Life is not easy here, and I could give you a long list of the reasons why it's just too hard. Armed with excuses, it would then be easy for me simply to go through the motions of daily life and ministry on autopilot.  But my experiences lately have served as a reminder that God didn't call me to serve in Kenya because of my strengths.  He called me here because of my weaknesses, because it's the weaknesses that amplify the power of Christ. My brokenness is the opening through which He can work.

So bring it on!

Project Beauty

For this reason, I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is within you.

 2 Timothy 1:6a (NRSV)

The alarm sounded.  I quickly sat up, crawled out from underneath the mosquito net, stretched my arms to the ceiling, and boldly declared, "Today I start Project Beauty!" Ken chuckled as he turned over, but I leapt from my bed and marched out of the room with purpose.

We are in the dry season, which is perhaps the least attractive time of year in Kenya. Everything, and I mean everything, is covered in brown dust.  Plants are either dormant or dying, and every insect known to science has come out of the woodwork (yes, and I mean that literally) to search for moisture.  In fact, during Candidates Council this week, I found it difficult to concentrate on the agenda because of an ugly bug sitting in the middle of our boardroom table.  Incredibly, no one else seemed to notice until it started to move toward me.  At that point, another officer deftly swept the creature to the floor with his own papers.  Great, I thought.  Now it can crawl up my leg.

Home League ladies from Bungoma cleaning up the community market.

You could say that there's been a lot of ugliness in our lives over the past few weeks.  Ken came home and proudly announced he had found a "user friendly" rat trap at the market for our home.  He tried to show me how it worked, but I had absolutely no interest in the thing.

One of our accepted candidates recently failed to report to the Training College, and she's still missing.  Her parents, her fiance, and her corps family have no idea what happened to her. She has simply vanished.

In order to promote road safety, the authorities in Kakamega County have placed a wrecked vehicle on a high platform in the middle of town.  While I understand their good intentions, this has been a problem for me in two ways.  First, that particular car was the one in which one of our corps leaders was riding when it was struck by an out-of-control lorry.  He did not survive.  Second, since the car was placed on its pedestal, people have been stripping it for parts.  That doesn't help the message.

On top of all that, we have to deal with the usual amount of difficult news that reaches our offices every day.

The Lord has reminded me in my prayers this morning of a quote from Elsie de Wolfe, the woman credited with turning interior design into a profession:

I am going to make everything around me beautiful.  That will be my life.  

To that I say, "Amen!"  After all, when the Lord created the world, He started with chaos and had to bring order to it.  He took a shapeless mass and created a beautiful backdrop for our lives.  And then, He performed the same beautiful miracle in our hearts!

God painting the sky in Kenya

So it's clear to me that our God believes in beauty and in its power.  Beauty draws you in, and says all is well.  It comforts and it inspires.  And as children made in His image, shouldn't we create lovely things too?  We all do it differently, of course, because we have all been given different gifts.  But every single one of us can be a creator of beauty in one way or another.

So as I cleaned my home, gave myself a facial, and painted my nails yesterday as part of Project Beauty, I also took a moment to make a surprise tea for the guards on our compound.  I prepared a gift for a young mother in need, and I wrote a letter of encouragement.

Beautiful.  And powerful.

Praying or Pleading?

For you are great, and do wondrous things; You alone are God.

 Teach me YOUR way, O Lord; I will walk in YOUR truth.  Psalm 86:10-11 (NKJV)

I love watching my African sisters carry everything from fruit and vegetables to firewood on their heads. They do it with such beauty and grace.  Their example reminds me of the burdens I take up every morning when I leave my quarters.  Poverty, death, illiteracy, corruption, starvation, and witchcraft are just a few of the burdens that I must carry here. The load is heavy and uncomfortable, and while I certainly do my best, I'm not sure that I demonstrate half as much dignity and grace in the process.

A few weeks ago, the street boys of Kakamega asked to take the Hodder family on a tour of the town as they know it.  They wanted to show us how and where they live.  As we began our walk, two of the youngest took me by the hand, eager to protect me.  Another boy, who unfortunately is addicted to sniffing glue, kept his eye on the traffic.  Whenever we stopped at a busy intersection, he would grab my arm to make sure that Mama made it safely to the other side.  The boys took us to the trash dump where they scavenge for food, and then to the dilapidated mud huts where some of them sleep.

At one point, an older boy stopped me and bent down to tie my shoe.  As he did so, my heart broke when I noticed that not only was he shoeless himself, but his feet were covered in horrible sores.  Another reached out to steady me as I crossed a rickety wooden plank that had been laid over an open sewer, and then asked if we could go to the hut in which he lives.  We agreed, and once we arrived, Ken was asked to enter and bless the "home" with a prayer.   Dozens of other residents, who had all come out to greet the visitors, asked for a similar blessing.

In another hut, I saw through the darkness that the walls had been decorated with charts of the English alphabet, addition and subtraction, and the spelling of simple words.  That hut was fortunate to have parents in residence, and I was learned through our translator that their eldest boy had recently started attending our makeshift school at Territorial Headquarters.  Although uneducated themselves, the parents stood tall and proudly announced that their son would some day be a teacher.  After praying a blessing on their humble home, I quietly slipped out, hoping they did not see me wipe away a tear.  

The tour lasted for several hours, and I never stopped praying for miracles the entire time. Lord, I prayed, how can this happen?  I felt hopeless, discouraged, and even a bit angry. Why, Lord?  Why did you send me here?  Why have you given me these boys to love?   How can I sleep at night knowing they are hungry? 

Martha's Boys with the Hodders and Major Eleanor Haddick, our Social Services Secretary

Throughout the following week, I found myself begging God for resources to meet the demands of our ministry.  I  found myself pleading for Him to lighten my load.  

It was during one of my quiet times about two weeks later that the Lord finally spoke to me through a quote from Henry Blackaby's book, Experiencing God:

God invites you to become involved with Him in His work.

It occurred to me that, instead of constantly praying for God to do this or that based on my own vision and plans, I should try to put myself in tune with what He is already doing.  I should simply make myself available to do His work, according to His perfect plan.  When I stop to consider how these boys are slowly being transformed,  I can see that God is up to something big.  Really big.  And I want to be part of it.

First Things First

 "Feeling must follow, but faith, apart from all feeling, must be there first."
Martin Luther

I slipped out of the bed slowly, careful to avoid becoming tangled in the mosquito net. I gently wrapped myself in a wool blanket, tiptoed to the sitting room, and plugged in the tea pot.  As the water boiled I peaked out the window, eager to see the monkeys around our cottage.  Finally, with a steaming cup of tea in my hand, I slipped out on to the veranda, quietly pulled up a chair, curled up inside it, and waited patiently for the rest of the family to wake up on Christmas morning.

There is nothing like Christmas in the rain forest.  So as I sat there and listened to the birds sing and watched dew drops fall from the branches, I was overcome with emotion. "Thank you, Lord," I whispered, "for all your blessings on our family in this past year."

   

2014 has been a year of extreme highs and lows.  Our Territory has celebrated the opening of 45 new corps and several new districts and divisions.  We have seen thousands find Christ.  But we have also mourned the unnecessary loss of officers and soldiers to preventable diseases.  Family illnesses back home have caused us great concern, and corruption and terrorism have threatened to destroy peace in Kenya.  

There have also been some moments that I'll never forget.  I cringed when I recalled the day I discovered a slaughtered cow in an officer's bedroom.  She had wanted to surprise us with a special feast, and while I don't recall the meal, I certainly remember the surprise!  Then my heart began to melt with the memory of the day that the street boys of Kakamega, who literally have nothing to celebrate in life, defeated our Territorial Headquarters team in football and then ran around the pitch in triumph, holding aloft the simply trophy they had won.  It was memories like these that signaled the start of a great Christmas Day.

When it was all over and we started to pack away our little tree, I looked one more time at every ornament, each of which elicited an emotional reaction, some of them pleasant, and others more difficult.  As I sealed the box, I concluded that emotions are a precious gift from God, for without them our lives would be dull, empty and joyless.   But I was also reminded of the truth found in Proverbs 3:4-5: 

       Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.

Emotions, I thought, really can't be trusted, because they are based solely upon my perception and my understanding.  God is a lot bigger than that.  I then realized that it's the tree that matters.  Put a sparkling ornament on a dead, lifeless tree and it will lose its sparkle.  But place a less than attractive ornament on a beautiful tree, and it will take on new life and brilliance.  In the same way, I decided, it's my faith in God's promises that makes my life beautiful, rich, and satisfying.  Emotions are just the ornaments.

As I praise the Lord for all the lessons and blessings showered on me in 2014, I commit once again to place my faith in Him.  I will dance with joy when I feel like it, of course, and I will cry when circumstances dictate.  But even when I'm crying, I'll know that there are other dancing days yet to come.

May the Lord bless you and yours in 2015.

Deep Feelings

I don't want to get to the end of my life and find that I lived just the length of it.

  I want to have lived the width of it as well.  ~ Diane Ackerman

What an emotional week!  It started with news that a friend of mine was called home to Heaven.  You would think that I could get used to all of the funerals here, but with every passing comes deep sadness, even though we also rejoice at Heaven's gain.  I'll miss my friend very much.

The Army meets the community at the home of the bereaved for the burial service.

A few days later, we opened a school for "Martha's Boys" (which is our name for the boys from the streets of Kakamega) on our headquarters compound.  Some of the boys are runaways, but my heart really goes out to the orphans whose extended families will sometimes simply bring them to Kakamega and then abandon them.  We have made a hall available to the new school, of course, but the boys seem to prefer taking their classes under the big tree that is sandwiched between our garbage dump and the pit latrines.   I couldn't be more proud of these young men.

Distributing school supplies to Martha's Boys

On Friday, we held a press conference with the Governor of Kakamega County.  After Ken and I gave a short report on Martha's Boys and our work with a group of local prostitutes that we're calling the "Survivors," the Governor graciously pledged his support.  Taking him at his word, I brought two of the ladies into the room.  They spoke with him in Swahili for a few nervous minutes, and only later was I told that it was culturally unknown for a prostitute to converse with such a powerful man.  Still, it seemed to work, as the ladies then told me that they had something to tell the community.  I took them across the room to one of the cameramen, and they spoke excitedly for ten minutes about all the love and support they had found at The Salvation Army.  It was quite a moment.

After the conference, the Governor asked Ken to pray this Monday at the dedication of the new market in Kakamega, which is quite an honor.  Ken said yes, of course, but he was then told that he'd be praying at the opening of both the market and the new slaughterhouse.  Now that's one situation that we never covered in Training School!

By now, you'll have guessed that my emotions have run the gamut this week.  But in my devotions yesterday, I was reminded of the fact that I am not alone in this.  Various passages in the New Testament demonstrate that Jesus had the same experience.  He also felt affection, anguish, anger, compassion, distress, grief, gladness, indignation, joy, love, peace, and sadness.  In a way, that helps me to understand what He meant in John 10:10:

I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.

Jesus didn't mean by this that we would only experience love, joy and peace.  He knew that that our feelings would range far beyond that.  What He meant, I think, was that we would live in every sense of the word - that we would truly feel all the emotions that life has to offer.  He was saying that when we know God loves us and we then encounter the ups and downs of life, we don't just experience them, but we learn from them.  We grow spiritually.  We live the "abundant lives" that He promised.

So, yes, I am a bit emotional at times.  But praise the Lord for it!

Kingdom Planting

Let us thank the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. 

It was through His loving-kindness that we were born again to a new life

and have a hope that never dies. 

1 Peter 1:3a 

Because they bring disgrace upon a family and their community, it is still legal in Kenya to kill a baby born of incest.  One community is now debating whether a four-day old baby should be allowed to live, and in Kakamega, newborns that are the product of incest are either abandoned on the doorstep of a local children's home or just disappear.  They never have a chance.  It's all very sad.

Recently, I was called down from my office to meet two young boys who were being treated for chiggers by one of our officers.  Before I got there, I was warned that their toes had been eaten away, and so I tried to prepare myself for what I would see.  It wasn't enough.  All that was left of their feet was masses of damaged flesh.  But that wasn't the worst part.  The worst part was looking into their eyes.  The boys didn't speak.  They just stared back at me, expressionless.  They'd lost all hope.

After doing what we could to treat their wounds, we got the boys some shoes and trousers, and then we invited them to join "Martha's Boys," our new program for the street kids of Kakamega.  It's not much, and we run it on a shoestring.  But the boys keep coming.  Later, as I walked backed to our building, I prayed, "Lord, how can we treat all these young boys, and then just turn them back over to the streets?"  Blinking back the tears, I prayed for a miracle.  I prayed for a facility where we could care for them properly.

Ken and I recently visited Turkana, which is by far the most isolated command in our Territory.  We arrived at District Headquarters to the sight of over 100 students from the Army's school in Lokitaung, all of whom were smartly dressed in their school uniforms, waiting for a ride to the school.  I was told that, because the Army doesn't have its own vehicle, the school will hire buses to take them on the eight-hour journey.  You can image my surprise when a cattle truck pulled up a few minutes later and the students started climbing on.  They were going to stand shoulder to shoulder in the back of that truck for the entire journey, which would traverse some of the most brutal desert conditions in Kenya.  And they were looking forward to it.  One of the officers said to me, "The students are happy because they're the lucky ones.  They get to study."

Arriving for Worship at the Lokichoggio Corps 

Ken and his bodyguards (note the guns!) visiting the new Kasarani Outpost

Before we left Turkana, Ken and I were asked to plant trees to commemorate our visit.  "We have planted several trees here before," I thought, "and they always die."  But I went ahead anyway and did what I was asked, and it was then that the Lord reminded me of a quote:

  “Love is hope when reason despairs.” – Jack Hyles

We weren't planting trees, really.  We were planting hope.  When everything around us seems bleak, it is hope that keeps us going.  It's what convinces us that things will change and that miracles still happen.  So yes, I'll plant a seed of hope.  Because if I can do that much, God will take care of the rest.   

What a Thrill!

I came that they may have and enjoy life,
and have it in abundance (to the full, till it overflows). John 10:10 (AMP)

This month has had its ups and downs.  After weeks of eye pain and consulting two local doctors, my loving husband contacted the American Embassy for a medical referral. Based upon that information, Ken flew me to Nairobi to meet with a surgeon, and within two minutes, he determined that I had a small piece of hard plastic embedded in my eye.  I'd been suffering for more than two months, but he removed it in ten seconds. I don't mind saying that it took every ounce of self-discipline at my disposal to keep myself from dropping to my knees at the doctor's feet in gratitude.  

Power has been sporadic at best, at one point forcing me to shop at the market in the dark.  Not a good way to select meat, let me tell you.  And at home, our lights have been flickering on and off almost constantly. Add the loud music from a three-day wedding celebration in another compound across the valley, and it's been like living in a disco (not that I would know!)

Last weekend, I was the guest at a Home League Congress in the Tongaren Division at which more than 1,000 women were present.  Many ladies arrived at the school compound in which the event would take place carrying suitcases on their heads.  At the same time, a line of buses raised huge billows of dust as they lurched from side to side along the dirt road that led to the school.  As each one arrived, the ladies would pile out, carrying everything they needed for the weekend -- firewood, mattresses, cooking supplies, and chickens.  Wow.  As you might expect, it turned out to be an amazing three-day camping jamboree with, you guessed it, not-stop dancing. 

One corps leaving the Congress in their tractor.

It is circumcision season in Kenya.  So on my way home from the Congress, I saw several parades, which are understood here as celebrations of the fact that local boys are becoming men.  These ceremonies play an important role in the culture of western Kenya, but I confess that I do worry about boys who are essentially kidnapped, stripped, and then cut without their consent.  And my heart breaks for those families that will lose their child at the hand of an inexperienced cutter.

A circumcision celebration in Mbale

Put it all together, and you'll understand that this month has been a wild ride.  A Pinterest quote says it all:

Life is like a roller-coaster.  It has its up and downs. 

It's your choice to scream or throw up your hands and enjoy the ride!

Yes, there are days I want to scream.  But God has made a way for me to live a life of joy and victory.  So today, I'm going to sit back, throw up my hands, and enjoy the ride.

Change Me

Do not conform yourselves to the standards of this world, 

but let God transform you inwardly by a complete change of your mind. 

Romans 12:2a  (GNT)

Throwing her arms around me, a woman that I haven't seen in years exclaimed, "Mama, you look wonderful.  You haven't changed a bit!"  I was skeptical, of course, but since I turned 53 this week, that compliment was a lovely gift.  Maybe my extensive maintenance routine and all the lotions and potions I use every day really does make a difference.

Kakamega has recently experienced some violent storms.  Last week, the sound of hail pounding the metal roof on our quarters was so loud that Ken and I couldn't hear each other at the dinner table.  So we ate in silence until we looked up and saw water beginning to pour into the room. Unable to communicate in any other way, Ken and I waved our hands wildly and then scrambled to put out a collection of bowls, buckets, and towels.  Once they had been placed strategically around the room, we sat back down at the table, smiled at one another, and finished our dinner to the romantic sound of a waterfall.  

That's not how I would have reacted a few years ago.

The biggest news around town these days is that our local airstrip is now operational, with (almost) daily flights to Nairobi.  So since Ken and I had to visit the Nigeria High Commission, we booked a flight.  We arrived at the airstrip and sat down in the small departure lounge, patiently waiting for our flight to be called.  Ken and I watched as a small, single engine plane touched down on the tarmac (a bit too hard for my liking), and I suggested that it was just delivering the mail.  But then the attendant told us that our briefcases were too big to keep with us.  That's when I realized that this was OUR plane.  I swallowed hard, surrendered my bag, and received in return a small brown paper sack containing a dry sandwich and small bottle of water.  At that point, I determined that any questions about the entertainment system would be superfluous, and I slowly climbed up the few stairs into the back of the plane (Note to self:  next time, wear trousers).

It was at this juncture that I noticed the distinction between our airstrip and the plane.  The airstrip was new, and it looked great.  The plane, on the other hand, was relatively old, and most things seemed to be broken.  In fact, I thought I saw the words "Wright Brothers" on one of the wing struts.  The pilot turned around, welcomed us on board, and then we were off . . . on what was undoubtedly the bumpiest flight I have ever experienced.  In the course of the next hour, we flew through two rainstorms.  During the second, I squeezed my husband's hand so hard that it turned white, and I yelled into his ear, "Next time, we drive!"  Ken just smiled and patted my hand.

On the way back the following day, Ken did his best to distract me by pointing out the herds of zebra and giraffe that we flew over.  In fact, I actually started to enjoy the flight until our pilot made a turn that was a bit too steep, which caused the plane's early warning system, in a voice eerily reminiscent of our Garmin, to say, "Caution. Insufficient  power."  Gulp.  A few minutes later, as we crawled out of the plane in Kakamega, it took all of my self-discipline to refrain from kneeling down (in papal fashion) and kissing the ground.

Ken tells me that it will not be so bad when we fly to Nairobi again next week.  Right.

As we drove home from the airstrip, bumping along the dirt roads, maneuvering through herds of cows, and slowly passing through crowded markets, I thought again about how much my life has changed.  I'm in a different place, and I've learned a different way of thinking, of working, and of serving.  Yet I'm neither surprised nor concerned, because when you choose to follow Christ, doesn't it also mean you choose to be changed?  

The world focuses on the exterior, giving a great deal of attention to beauty, looks, and image.  But Christ works from the inside out.  He transforms our thoughts, allowing us to experience life as one grand adventure in faith.  And it is by living life for Him that we are changed.   Martin Buxbaum once wrote:

Some people, no matter how old they get, never lose their beauty.

They merely move it from their faces into their hearts. 

So as I grow older,  I pray that God will continue to change me, to transform me into His likeness. Perhaps on the day He calls me heavenward, He will throw his arms around me and whisper lovingly, "My, how you've changed."  

Treasure Seeker

^{The greatest treasures are those invisible to the eye, but found by the heart.}

I just love living in Kakamega.  I delight in waking up to the sound of roosters and watching piglets roll around in the mud.  I marvel at how much women can carry on their heads, and how fast children can run after a sugarcane truck.  And then, of course, there are the "unusual" sights and sounds of daily life.  Last week, for example, I saw a drunken cow, a tinsel-decorated coffin on the back of a bicycle, and a family of five riding on a motorbike.  It all prompts me to say to myself, "No, Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore."

Women carrying coal.

I have recently come to understand that, even before I get out of bed in the morning, God has planned a day of adventures just for me.  Sunshine after a storm, a beautiful flower in the middle of a trash heap, majestic birds flying overhead, and the joy of the people with whom I work are all treasures sprinkled throughout my day.  And the more I look for such treasures, the more I find, hidden in the ordinary activities of my day.

Of course, there have been difficult moments in the past few weeks.  In light of Al-Qaeda activity in the eastern part of Kenya, Kakamega has been beefing up security, and everyone is a bit nervous about possible violence in response to upcoming political rallies in Nairobi.  Personally, I've also been struggling with pain in my right eye.  Fortunately, Ken finally convinced me to visit the local clinic (which was a wild adventure in itself), and the eye seems to be healing now.  Thank you, God.

The entrance to the eye clinic in Kakamega.

But despite all of the challenges, I'm still finding treasures.

The Lord has given me the following passage:

And I will give you treasures hidden in the darkness, secret riches; 
and you will know that I am doing this—I, the Lord, the God of Israel,
 the one who calls you by your name.
Isaiah 45:3 (TLB)

Some treasures of God may be difficult to see at the outset, but once you find them, you recognize that they are gifts only He could provide -- like peace and hope and joy.  These are the things He makes available to me every single day.  I am rich indeed.

Love your Story

Let the redeemed of the Lord tell their story.

Psalm 107:2

I blinked back tears as I checked my bags at the counter.  Turning away with a sigh, I was unprepared for the huge sob that suddenly came from deep within me.  Two employees asked if I was alright.  "I have to leave my family," was the response.  One woman smiled warmly and whispered, "It's going to be OK." 

I sat down to wait for our flight and did what I always do.  Watching the people pass by, I made up a wide variety of stories about the lives they were leading.  Some were CIA agents, others circus performers or fugitives.  Their sagas kept me entertained until it was time to board the plane.

Three flights and more than 26 hours later, we arrived at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport in Nairobi.  After the customs agent searched our luggage, Ken negotiated with a taxi driver to take us to our hotel for a few hours of rest before we continued our journey home.  As usual, the taxi was searched before we entered the hotel compound, and our luggage had to be inspected once again by the hotel security officer before we were allowed into the lobby.

It was just after midnight when we finally stepped up to the front desk, where we learned that our "reserved" room wasn't ready yet.  And the internet was down. Welcome back!

This Starbucks only serves instant coffee!

When we arrived in Kisumu the following day, our driver greeted us warmly and loaded our luggage into the back of the vehicle.  As we began the two-hour drive to Kakamega, he updated us on all the latest news, including the long rains that now threaten to destroy the maize crops of our people, and the rioting sparked by a recent episode of child ritual killings.  Fortunately, though, our THQ family is happy and healthy, and there is continued progress on a number of fronts.

As he chatted with my husband, I thought about the vast differences between my life in Kenya and the one which I had just left.  Then the Lord reminded me of the words penned by Franny Crosby:

This is my story, this is my song. 

Praising my Saviour, all the day long.

Home League Singers

Yes, I thought, this transition from one world to another is MY story, an exciting tale that the Lord is writing one chapter at a time.  It would make no sense for me to focus on chapters that have already been written.  Instead I must give myself without reservation to the one I'm living today, with all it's drama, laughter, tears, challenges, and victories.

Thank you, Lord, for being the author of my life.  You're a much better writer than I am, and you've made my life a real page turner. 

  

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.