God's Gracious Gift

You don't choose your family. They are God's gift to you, as you are to them.

Desmond Tutu

The Chief of the Staff and the World President of Women's Ministries, Commissioners Andre and Silvia Cox, arrived last Friday morning at the little airport in Kisumu.  Their arrival had been delayed because the air traffic controller became ill, but once the plane did touch down, Ken and I welcomed the Commissioners warmly on the tarmac.  After a few minutes with the Territorial cabinet in the VIP lounge, our leaders exited the terminal to the cheers of hundreds of uniformed Salvationists.  Following a short greeting and two excellent musical presentations, we were then whisked away in a caravan of cars escorted by police.  Thirty minutes into our journey to Kakamega, we had to pull over as another large delegation of Salvationists had assembled to greet us.

On Saturday, 750 Salvation Army officers crowded into Kakamega Central Corps to hear our guests speak.  Despite the sweltering heat, they were not disappointed.  It was a simply wonderful meeting, which ended with a large number at the altar.  Commissioners Cox, Ken and I then danced out of the hall to the delight of the assembly.  Who knew that four old "mazungu" could dance?

But the highlight of the weekend was the Installation and Welcome of Cadets at Bukhungu Stadium on Sunday.  Despite the anticipated tension of Monday's election, almost 15,000 Salvationists came to Kakamega and marched into the stadium as Commissioners Cox and Lt. Colonels Wolayo (our Chief Secretary and Territorial Secretary of Women's Ministries) joined Ken and me to take the salute. 

It was a day of real celebration and great spiritual significance.  I will never forget the moment that the Chief of the Staff presented Ken and me to the congregation after the installation ceremony.  Instantly, a group of women placed a shawl on my shoulders, and the men placed an African cane in Ken's hand.  With shouts of jubilation, our African family then surrounded us and led us as their spiritual parents in a celebratory walk around the stadium, singing and dancing in order to thank God for bringing us together.

Immediately following that special moment, Ken and I performed our first official duty by welcoming the new cadets into our Army family.   Ken formally accepted them and charged the Training Principal with the responsibility of preparing them for ministry.  I had the honor of pinning their session banner to the Training College flag, and once again, the crowd roared. 

The Apostle Paul had it right when he wrote:

God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family

 by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure.  So we praise God for the glorious grace

 he has poured out on us who belong to his dear Son.

^{Ephesians 1:5-6, NLT}

 

 My heart is full of gratitude today for the family God chose for me.  It is a gift I will cherish.

 

Preparing for Battle

 

Last week, Ken and I attended the Welcome Banquet for our new cadets.  Despite the fact that they have not yet received their tunics, the group looked very smart.  And even though the banquet itself (like most classes) was held in the main hall of Territorial Headquarters, they warmly welcomed us to their "Training School."  We all enjoyed a delicious feast prepared personally by the Training Principal's wife, and then the cadets sang, danced, and spoke as if they had reached the Promised Land.  I could not have been more proud. 

 

I simply love our cadets.  Every morning Ken and I arrive at Headquarters around 6:45am, and every morning we find them hard at work.  There are two beautiful young women who are responsible for sweeping the parking lot, and I can often hear them singing as they do so.  It always brings a smile to my face, and that's when I'm once again overwhelmed by God's goodness.

Cadets joyfully cleaning the old quarters that serves as
 staff offices.  One office is in a dark, tiny kitchen!
 

 

 

I must admit, though, that there are five cadets who are particularly precious to me.  After we had accepted twenty-six young people into the Training College (out of more than 100 applications), we received letters from five young officers who are engaged to be married to ladies who, although already accepted for a future session, could not be accommodated this year in the old bakery that serves as our cadet dormitory.  This is a common situation since officers can only marry other officers.  But it also means that engagements can sometimes last as long as five years!  The urgent pleas from these young men touched our hearts, and with the support of our colleagues, Ken and I decided to do something about it.

Ken went to the old bakery and found a small room that, until now, had been used for the storage of garden equipment.  Ken gave instructions for the equipment to be moved out and a plywood wall constructed, thereby converting that little area into living quarters.  The work cost $600, which was generously funded by friends, and three days later, the five additional cadets moved in.  It was far from an ideal situation, but as you can imagine, they (not to mention their future husbands) were overjoyed.

So Joel 3:10 has taken on new meaning for us in the Kenya West Territory.  The prophet wrote,

 

Beat your plows into swords, and your vine hooks into spears.

Let the weak say, “I am a powerful soldier.”

Joel 3:10 (NLV)

 

 

Turning a garden shed into a place to prepare a warrior for the Lord.  What a great idea.




Grow Old with Me, the Best Is Yet to Be!

Three things will last forever - faith, hope and love-
and the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13:12-13

 

  

What's a man to do for his wife on Valentine's Day in Kakamega?  When I mentioned to Ken last week that February 14th was just around the corner, his only response was a look of suppressed panic.  After all, there's no "fine dining" available in town.  In fact, the best restaurant food I've enjoyed thus far was a small pizza-like creation that featured the local version of ketchup.   And as for atmosphere, candlelight dinners are part of our regular routine.  There are no jewellery stores, no candy stores, and no gift shops.  But ever since my darling husband forgot one Valentine's Day about 25 years ago (Yes, I have a long memory!), he's always done something special.  So, I ask again, what's a man to do?


Ken waiting for me outside our home corps, Kakamega Central.

Actually, I've resolved to be particularly understanding this year.  After all,  he's been so attentive recently.  Last Friday, for example, he called from the office to say that he was coming home a little early to help with chores.  Our home is only about ten minutes away, but he didn't arrive for three-quarters of an hour.  Even before he stepped through the door, the explanation began.  After leaving the office compound, he was pulled over by a man who wanted a brief chat with the TC.  Then, after bidding the man farewell, Ken found himself in a small traffic jam, caused by a crowd that was watching a pig wallow in the mud by the side of the road.  Then, to top it all off, when he pulled up to our compound gate, he had to wait for the guard to move two very stubborn cows out of the way.  Now how could I be upset after hearing that?
 

My husband shows his love for me every day in a million little ways.  He prepares the bed every night, turns on the fan, and pulls the mosquito net into place to make sure that I am comfortable and tucked in.  When he sees me struggling with the water pump, he just chuckles and takes over.  He has eaten countless bean concoctions without complaint, and even though I know he doesn't like them, he has smiled broadly whenever I've served him peanut butter sandwiches because it's too hot to cook or I failed to find meat to purchase.   I also know that he prays for us.  When we arrived home last night, expecting another night without electricity, he ceremoniously turned off the engine and began to pray for electricity, singing, "Bless us now, Bless us now, Heavenly Father, Bless us now!"  It made me smile.  And guess what?  We went in the house, and we had electricity . . . for a while, anyway.

Whatever Ken does or doesn't do today, I would still follow him to the ends of the earth.  In fact, I really can't think of anything I would rather do than serve God with my partner in ministry, wherever that might take us.  It's one of the greatest blessings that God has ever given me, and I just pray that there will be many more days of service together.

 

A Miracle Lives in Every Prayer

Give Thanks to Him who alone does mighty miracles. 

His faithful love endures forever. 

Psalm 136:4



Training College officers with the two cooks
 and groundsman in the Cadets' lounge.
 

Yesterday I heard that the Territory's second session of cadets will arrive at the Training College tomorrow.  Hearing this, I could not help but remember the excitement I felt when I first reported for training.  I distinctly recall the butterflies in my stomach, the awe I felt as I walked the grounds of the College, and the anticipation of beginning my studies to become a minister of the Word.

But now, I must confess that my heart is also heavy.  Each year in our Territory, I've been told, we have approximately 100 applicants for the 25 available spaces in our College.   In fact, we have so many candidates for training that we're already full through 2016, and this sometimes means that candidates, eager to begin their ministry, simply go to other churches.  That's hard to hear when, as one of the fastest growing Territories in the world, Kenya West needs all the officers it can get.  So when Ken asked if we could expand our session, we were invited to see the current facilities. 

The tour didn't take long.  There is no chapel, no separate dining hall, and no administration building.  There are no classrooms.  The cadets simply take their lessons and meals in the main hall at Territorial Headquarters, and they live in an old abandoned bakery on our compound.  The rooms in that building have been created with plywood.  Some are lucky enough to have a window, but all the windows are barred, which would prevent escape in the event of a fire.  The cadets share four pit latrines, and there is no running water.  Much of the furniture comes from the Army's original facilities in Nairobi and Thika and is decades old.  In fact, the bedding is so old, the Training Principal confessed that they were the same blankets and bed coverings that were used when he was a cadet.

And yet, every inch of that old bakery was spotless, every bed was made, and all the preparations had been made for the big day.

 

 

As we toured the building, I prayed for a miracle.  But then I also had to do something.  So I told the staff to purchase new bedding for each of the cadets, and that we would find the funds.  They were delighted.

The situation at our College seems overwhelming, but in the end, I'm not worried.  Because I serve a God who loves His children.  He is a God who performs miracles . . . and it's a miracle we need.




    
 

This Little Light of Mine

It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness.

  Eleanor Roosevelt

 

 

Cadets recently commissioned and now speading the light of God throughout the Kenya West Territory.

 

It's another day here in Kakamega.  Having lost electricity yesterday, I am now sitting at my desk in a blouse that hasn't been ironed, with uncurled hair and make-up that was clumsily applied to the light of a lantern.  I do feel pretty good about myself, though, because I successfully prepared chicken and dumplings for my husband last night.  Despite being able to secure only two ingredients in the standard recipe, and notwithstanding having to cook in the dark, Ken actually asked for seconds.  Who knew that mayonnaise could be so useful?

 

After the electricity went out, our Territorial Youth Secretary (who was an electrician before he entered training) came to check on us.  During his visit, we were reminded of the problems presented by irregular power on our compound.  Personal grooming aside, our people regularly lose food in their refrigerators. The electric security fence that surrounds the compound becomes useless, and the water pump stops working.  While the ten officer families and twenty-five cadets who live here never openly complain, their frustration is often evident on their faces.  So Ken and I have promised ourselves that we will somehow find the funds to purchase a generator.

 

All around me, I see the results of darkness in this world.  The pictures of hundreds of children who are desperate for sponsorship haunt me.  The men, women, and children dying from HIV/AIDS look to us for hope.  The disabled children living in Army facilities seek love and acceptance.  I have only been here a month, but sometimes, the depth of the darkness threatens to overwhelm me.  Then I remember:    

 

 "Who among you fears the Lord and obeys the voice of His Servant,

yet walks in darkness and has no light?

Let him trust in the name of the Lord and have faith in his God."

 Isaiah 50:10

 

As I serve in Kenya, it is my constant hope and prayer that I will be His light in the darkness.

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dying to Live!

I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat is planted in the soil and dies, it remains alone.  But its death will produce many new kernels—a plentiful harvest of new lives.  John 12:24 (NLT)

Ken treated our new neighbours at the shop outside our compound to soda and sweets.

 Agnes, the shop owner standing with me, sells mangoes, various roots, and tasty termites.

The portion of Kakamega in which we live is called “Shimalavandu,” which literally translates as “place of death.”  We understand it was given that name in part because of the many accidents that occur in the area.  Yet it seems like a strange name for a place that is bursting with life.  Energetic roosters wake us each morning, and even before the sun is up, the roads are filled with activity.  Children walk to school.  Beautiful kites (large bird of preys) fly overhead.  Men steer their cattle around women who carry bundles of goods on their heads as they walk to the market for another day of business.  In short, there’s a lot going on in Shimalavandu.

There’s also a lot going on in the Army here.  During our first Board meeting, for example, we approved the opening of two new corps, one of which is located at the Kakuma Refugee Camp near the Sudanese border.  It's growing rapidly, with more than 270 in attendance on a normal Sunday.  In the same meeting, however, we also declined corps status to three outposts, even though they all have more than 150 soldiers each, own their land, and have built their own buildings.  They simply aren’t big enough yet! 

We also see a great deal of life in the view from our kitchen window.   In addition to the rolling green hills, you can see the top of the banana tree that grows in our little shamba (farm plot).  While Ken and I haven’t really attempted to grow anything yet, Ken is very proud of his recent crop of sweet bananas.

I suppose that, in the last analysis, Shimalavandu is a good name for our compound.   The ten officer families and twenty-five cadets who live here have given up their lives to Christ.  In scriptural terms, they have put themselves to death, and in so doing, have found abundant life in Him – a life that Ken and I are privileged to witness every day.

 

Homecoming

Homecoming means coming home

 to what is in your heart.  

 

"Do not call to mind the former things, or ponder things of the past.
Behold, I will do something new."

Isaiah. 43:18-19

 

On 4 January 2013, we arrived back home in Kenya. The THQ officers and staff, a band, and two Songster brigades met us at the airport. After a brief programme in the African heat, we were whisked away for a lovely luncheon with the welcome party. Then we began the road journey to Kakamega. Upon reaching our new quarters, we were told to go and rest as a group of ladies prepared yet another feast in our kitchen. Several hours later, the Cabinet arrived at our home for the welcome dinner.

It didn't take long for us to realize that living in Kakamega will be different from living in Nairobi. Instead of a guard dog, a 'guard cow' meets us at the compound gate. Instead of waking up to our alarm clock, the roosters awaken us, and much more effectively. Also, while I was somewhat anonymous in Nairobi, I am already recognized around town as the "Army mama." Even Lydia, the guard hired to scan shoppers before they enter the market, just smiles, kisses me, and welcomes me inside.

Since we live on the outskirts of the rain forest, I doubt that we will ever be without water. In fact, the other night it rained so hard I was convinced we were going to be swept down the hillside. The thunderous noise on the tin roof didn't help the situation. Electricity is another issue, though. As of now, we have been without power for about two days. Just before we lost it, I had purchased a week’s worth of groceries, and Ken had splurged on a large container of ice cream. That's been lost, of course, and I've learned a lesson. My shopping list now consists of fewer fresh meats and more dried beans!

I keep thinking of the lessons my daughter, Jessy, took from the circus trapeze she tried in London. She had to let go of the bar she was comfortably swinging on just at the right moment, hover for a second in the void, and then catch hold on the next swing. That is how I feel right now. I was comfortable in London, enjoying my life and ministry. God called me to grab hold of something new and exciting. I am still in that void, not quite grasping my new life, but believing I will be just fine. My faith lies in Christ, my safety net.