"68 dead. At least 175 injured. 30 hostages still inside and probably a dozen gunmen." -CNN, Sept 21 9pm
Westgate mall in Nairobi, Kenya was a happy bustling place on Saturday morning. Friends gathered and sipped $5 lattes, enjoyed the movies or frozen yogurt when all turned black. "All Muslims" were quietly escorted out and gunfire echoed through the beautiful and palacios building full of over 1,000 employees, natives and tourists from all over the world. Children screamed, people ran, some hid, some escaped, some were captured.

This attack wasn't just on Kenya, this was a terrorist attack pointed at the world. This was an attack from Islam.

As you go about your busy lives this week, lift up this nation and it's beautiful people. Open your eyes to the world.

It's crazy to think I walked those marble hallways of Westgate not a year ago. I sat in those coffee shops comfortably chatting with my mom, I browsed the Nike store and enjoyed a little slice of comfortable western living for an afternoon.

I was there. That could have been me, it could have been someone I knew. My heart aches for this nation. I don't know why God has given me such a longing to be in that place and with those people. I wish I could run away from college and return to the place I like to call home.

There are times when words simply aren't enough to express how one is feeling. Sometimes hugs and tears are better. There are times when you are half-way across the world from the place you love but still are so burdened with it that you can't sleep at night. And there are times when you simply can do NOTHING except cry out to God to rescue HIS PEOPLE. And to come soon.

This is why I'm here at Moody. Studying and earnestly seeking you, Lord, so that I can GO to the lost and hurting people. Come soon.

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a women huddles in a corner, protecting her child.
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bodies lay around the mall that I remember walking through so clearly.

The Kenyan Red Cross tweeted that nine bodies were recovered Sunday night, bringing the death toll to 68." -CNN Sept 22nd 5pm
"Then I saw I new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, preparing as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying 'behold the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them and they will be his people and he will be their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, not pain anymore, for the former things have passed away." -Revelation 21:1-4
 
 
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i'm writing tonight for my sake, not yours. 
it's selfish, really. 
i'm burdened for Kenya. so burdened. 

a year ago the land was my home and the people my people. 

now it's thousands of miles away.
i don't know how to explain the feeling. 

brian onyango was probably 15-years-old. 
no one really knows.
street kids have a way of never knowing things we take for granted like who their parents are or where they live.
today brian gone from this earth.
and somehow it hurts because i knew him.


brian had spleen problems for years. while i was in kenya he was in and out of sickness & health. rarely the latter. he died from chronic malaria after running away from Agape and taken to jail.
i hugged this kid. 
i ate with this kid. 
i taught with this kid. 
i yelled at this kid.
i loved this kid. 


my heart breaks today and it struggles to remain constant through this. 
i want to hide in a shell and cry.
to you brian was nobody. most of you never met brian omondi. 
but now you do. 
we must remember guys.
not rules, or education, or medicine, or food, or a house are necessary. Jesus is.
remember tonight that lives are at stake & every second counts.
don't waste this life we've been given. 

 
 
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today someone asked me about street kids. 
my mind went crazy. how to explain. 

it's hard for me to remember Kenya and the lessons it taught me, how much harder for you, who has never been there to relate.

this is an average street child and this is what they sniff. in countries around the world, not just Kenya, street children exist and live. 

children of all ages. they run away from home for any reason and once on the street they find themselves alone and vulnerable. 

every child is different. i will not gonna give you statistics because street children are kids, not numbers. 

these boys sniff shoe glue. they buy it from "mamas" on the side of the road. shoe glue. it's cheap. it kills their mind. it numbs their cold. it curbs their hunger. and in the process it kills their brain cells.

there's a hell of a lot of street kids in this world. they need our prayers, not our sympathy. 

these kids need to be rescued by nationals in their countries and they need to be reunited with their families. they need hope and healing that only Jesus can bring. 

 
 
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Richard is a 12-year-old boy who’s been running from something his whole life. He’s traveled from his village home, to the streets of Kisumu, to Agape and back again in an endless cycle for over two years. 

When I came to Agape seven months ago as a 16-year-old teenager, I befriended the comical boy and we were attached at the hip. I grew to love Richard, and the cycle of running stopped. But all good things come to an end…“Your boy ran away,” our social worker told me one morning. And the sequence started again. Back and forth he ran, from the street to Agape and back again, it continued for four painful months. 
Every time he was sorry, every time he promised not to leave again, and every time he repeated his actions despite trying so hard. 

This child of God, this confused, silly and rebellious boy just couldn’t be settled, and it broke my heart more than anything had ever broken me before.

In late June, Richard showed up at the Agape gate for what was likely the 10th time since the spring.  He wanted to come in, but because of the influence he had on so many boys, it wasn’t wise, so a hard decision was made.  “My boy” was so ashamed he wouldn’t even look at me, but I didn’t care.  I grabbed his grubby little hand and walked him to the car that would take him to the Juvenile Detention Center.  I gave him a kiss on the cheek and told him ,”Jesus would never leave him”, in all the Swahili I could muster through my shaky voice.  I watched as the car drove away, and then I just sat down in the dirt and cried.  I cried for Richard, I cried for Kenya, I cried for all poverty in this world and I felt like I would never be able to love someone again. But life hurts, and even though it does, we come to a point where God’s victory always overcomes our hopelessness. 

Richard lived in that children’s jail for over a month and I visited him every week. Kenyans say, "once a street kid always a street kid", and I saw this to be true with my boy. 

From what I hear though, today Richard is a changed boy who, Lord willing, will stay home in his village attending school and faithfully going to church. Pray with me that he will continue to be settled and that he would have a strengthened relationship with Christ that would never die. Love never fails!    


"to change someone you must love them, and they must know it."  -jedd medefind 
 
 
I can't seem to wrap my mind around the fact that goodbye is coming so soon.

I so distinctly remember hugging my closest friends goodbye, boarding the plane from SFO to Nairobi and making my first friends at the Agape Kisumu campus. 
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Many thanks to Hannah Mollath and Nicholas Kjeldgaard for the great photos!

Yet, here we are, with only 18 days left in this beautiful land.

In the last 11 months there have been hundreds of lessons learned, hundreds of relationships built, hundreds of Kiswahili words mastered, hundreds of humiliating moments hundreds of joyful moments and hundreds of miracles. 

  • Over 35 boys have been successfully reintegrated and reunited with their family. 
  • Nearly a hundred boys have memorized countless Bible verses and been taught deep and life-changing lessons in an effort to disciple them. 
  • Tens of children have come to know Christ as their own.
  • The first Kisumu street girls home has been opened and by God's grace Agape has had the privilege to Rescue, Redeem, Rehabilitate and begin to Reintegrate 12 girls who otherwise would have had no where to turn.
  • Children who were previously illiterate have not only began reading but speaking English.
  • A new counseling department with three caring and God-fearing Kenyans has been formed and boys and girls are now counseled and ministered to on a weekly basis.

God did all this and so much more in the past 11 months, and I have had the honor and privilege to witness it alongside incredible interns, dear family and fellow missionaries.

I'm not ready to say goodbye to Kenya and hello to California, but I am ready to continue my mission. Because no matter where in the world I am, I have a mission. 

A simple mission to love, serve, build relationships and show Jesus.
A mission to preach the gospel always, In Kenya or not, and when necessary, to use words.

Before I leave this place, I want to give you a little glimpse into 10 Kenyan Experiences that have changed me.

I pray these simple stories can help you experience and understand why I do what I do, and why I serve such a great God in the midst of the poverty that surrounds me

Here's to 11 months of miraculous stories in 18 days!
 
 
I find happiness to be over-rated. Don't get me wrong, I love to be happy. From my 16 years of experience I've concluded that we as humans are happy because of the good things that happen to us. I'm happy when I drink a Starbucks chai latte or a green tea frap. (like how I snuck my order in there?) I'm happy when it's Christmas. I'm happy when I'm living in Kenya. I'm happy when I'm playing volleyball. I'm happy when I'm with people I love and I'm happy when I accomplish things I think are changing the world. 

hap·py/ˈhapē/
Adjective:
  1. Feeling or showing pleasure or contentment.
  2. Having a sense of confidence in or satisfaction with (a person, arrangement, or situation).

But I want something more. I want our generation to posses a positive feeling that doesn't depend on what's happening around us. The way our world's headed, who knows where we'll be in 10 years. Is there something that make could make all of humanity smile even when life was at it's worst? Because It has to exist, guys. Real joy is out there somewhere. 

"Joy is different from happiness in that the word "happy" comes from the same root word as "happen": "hap." "Hap" means chance or fate. the feeling of happiness comes from what happens to a person by chance, but joy is a source of delight. it is what lies underneath all emotions, no matter what happens to a person."

Joy. The never-ending, always giving word that is rooted in something more than a current obsession. Joy--is what intrigues me. Because I want joy. Joy doesn't depend on my circumstances, it depends on my attitude. Joy says I rejoice because I have another day not because today was a good day.  Joy says I will give thanks in all things not just when I remember. Joy says hope is ever-present. Joy says that good triumphs evil. Joy says no matter what happens, I have a reason to praise you, God. Joy says It doesn't depend on me, it depends on him. Joy says I will smile always. Joy says I will be different. Joy says CHRIST because in him and through him we have all the happiness all the positivity and all the joy we could ever want out of this breath we call a life. 

 When we realized that the girls we were going planning to rescue from the juvenile detention centre today, are still sleeping in fear and abuse because our home wasn't ready ... It's not time to question God. It's a time to have joy. Because it wasn't up to you. It's time to rejoice, because God's plan was bigger than yours. Every time his plan wins, He wins. 

The more I'm in Kenya the more I realize that I NEED joy in my life. Deeply rooting my joy in Christ is the best thing I've ever done. You say I'm a happy person? I say I have CHRIST and he is enough. I don't automatically spurt joy. I have to work at it, and so do you. I write to you not because I'm a perfectly "joyful" person who has it all together... but because I've realized how crucial joy is to life. Joy is a daily decision we have to make. It's a decision to smile inside and out because, "It is finished."

Want to read about someone whop to choose joy? Read about Ashley and her amazing story here. After 6 surgeries, 22 rounds of chemotherapy and 2 courses of radiation, Daisy Love Merrick is facing cancer for the third time. Buy gorgeous not-for-profit CHOOSE JOY bracelets to remind yourself everyday that you have a reason to smile. Spread the love. Choose JOY.
 
 
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I hate working with glue boys and I love working with glue boys. Boys who were so completely and utterly addicted to not only a life-style but a drug. Shoe glue. They sniff it and the fumes not only make them go sky high, but it numbs the cold, the hunger and the pain. It's horrible to watch little children so deliberately and purposefully CHOOSE glue over having a happy healthy life. Today I drove past one of these Glue Boys. One of MY Glue Boys. Kennedy. My little smiling, 12-year-old, no English speaking, Kennedy. High as a telephone pole. He ran away from Agape and for almost two weeks now has successfully lived as a street-boy in Kisumu. And I ask myself, "He was doing so good, what did we do wrong?" Some days I ask God, why THESE boys? Why not just orphans. Why not just poor village kids. That sounds so simple right now, because the addiction on top of the loss and abandonment is almost too much. Yet somehow; God has a purpose for us and these Glue Boys. Us who have no experience in dealing with children recovering from addiction. Us who still sin and struggle with our own problems. Why choose us, God to come and to serve? Why the Glue Boys? Why the pain? 

 
 
It’s been too long since I wrote. We’ve been in Kenya for seven months now. Can you actually believe it? I can't. Some times I feel like we’ve been here forever, other days I want to get out of here asap. A lot of new exciting changes are happening in our family and at Agape, and at the same time we feel Satan is hard pressing the ministry and our family on every side. If Satan feels he needs to stop us so bad, I guess that means we must be doing something right. Pray for us in these four remaining months and beyond. There is so much to do and I'm going to make sure you're going to know about it.

California bound!? Yes. We are coming back to California. All 10 of us, Lord willing. Half of us come into San Francisco on November 4th, the rest the 5th. I have mixed feelings ... I think we all do. I'm ready for Starbucks, hugging my best friends, church that lasts only an hour and people that can actually understand what I'm saying. But I'm not ready to leave the people and the place that I am so obviously called too. It's clearer by the day that we're supposed to be here. That being said, in case you didn't know ...

We're Returning to Kenya?! Our family is coming back to Kenya for ANOTHER YEAR starting in July 2013. My best friend and older brother Nick will stay in the states to start his college adventure at some unknown place and the rest of us will return to doing what we know how to do. Love God's Kenyan family in Kisumu. Ministry is painful but oh, so rewarding. I am privileged to work with these people alongside my insane family and our missionary team here in Kisumu. I wouldn't trade this High School experience for anything else in the world.

I really want to make sure you're up on the latest KJ news. We're exciting people, so subscribe to our newsletter here if you want to stay updated!! We’ll take all the prayer we can get. Oh! And keep listening to the new and improved Africa Aholic because she's here to stay. 
 
 
Hey, world over there!! I’m still alive…I promise, alive and chugging along.

Since I believe honesty is the key to so many things in life, I want you to learn something that is honestly hard about my life right now. Something that I honestly don’t really want to tell you, except for the fact that I’d be lying to give you a life update saying everything is picture perfect.

On December 9th my family set forth on a crazy endeavor to Kenya. This morning, I sat in the car thinking how abnormal it is to be “going to church” on ‘Palm Sunday’ surrounded by a bunch of crazy colored boys singing at the top of their lungs. To me, life is incredibly normal. It’s normal to sweat 24/7, literally even when you sleep. It’s normal to have regular power shortages and Internet hiccups. It’s normal to have a cold shower. It’s normal for me to do next to no textbook schoolwork but instead teach 1st-4th grade. It’s normal to take a motorbike or Tuk-Tuk wherever I go accompanied by one of my brothers. It’s normal to go to bible study on Thursday afternoons. It’s normal to wake up at 6:30am and be at school teaching by 8am. It’s normal to be absolutely exhausted every day. It’s normal to break down in tears at least once a week because some little boy has lied to me and broken my heart. This is my normal. And it’s going on record to say… I’m momentarily sick of Africa.

At least, I was.

Everyone seems to want to know “how I’m doing”, so there you have it. I haven’t been going too hot, and I apologize for the lack of communication. This past Saturday & Sunday I took a break from everything. I’m just: Done. The reason I’m being such a horrible friend is because I don’t want to tell you that I’m weak and that the Kenya that I’m supposedly “addicted to” has worn me out. I’m ignoring you because when you ask me “what’s wrong?”…It’s hard to not break down in tears. Culture shock was “supposed” to hit me my 3rd WEEK in country, not 3 months. Some might think this is totally inappropriate or too personal to be putting on my public blog, but it’s life. It’s my life and I want you to realize I struggle just like you. Just because I’m a missionary doesn’t mean all my sin got left on the plane from SF to Turkey. Your life is just as hard as I feel mine is right now, you’re just probably not on a continent 13,000 miles from your best friends, knowing that they’re worried about their next social outing and I’m worried I just lost the chance to share the gospel with that boy. I am in NO way saying what you are doing is small. No. I am reminding myself that what I am doing is just as important as being a missionary in Oakdale, CA. Because wherever I am, I am somehow discontent with serving the Lord in that place and that needs to change. It’s not about my failure or your failure. It’s about our Anguish without Christ and our Joy with Him. We all need our joy back. Here’s how I all happened…

In December; everyone here had a jolly good time. Everything was just like my super fabulous 3-week mission trip was in 2010. There were only approximately 40 boys at Agape. We had a carnival, we had popcorn and bonfires and got to know the boys and we loved them really well. Because that’s all Christ tells to do. Our missionary team consisted of 6 adult Agape missionaries and 12 kids.
 
In January, school started and we were still fresh meat and totally innocent and oblivious (still are, by the way.) My mom was hard at work writing Kitanda project reports and doing her magic on the computer, my dad was busy building relationships and trying to understand the school…and both parents were trying to educate 5 kids at the same time. I signed up to tutor a boy, Daniel, one on one because I knew no one else in the world wanted to. Five days a week I poured everything I had into this boy who spoke close to NO English and prayed that something would happen.

In Febuary…most everything was happy go lucky. Life was fine. Daniel was making progress and our family was plugging along perfectly. That’s when it hit. March 2012. I’m putting it on record as the worst month of my short life except for the fact that our missionary team grew by two. Blake and Esther Gibbs are a miracle to my life and to so many others. Needless to say, one thing on top of another turned me into an emotional wreck. The boys that I thought I loved, who told me lies to give them things or to sympathize with them, those boys hurt deep because all I was doing was loving like Christ. Daniel was sent home for a number of reasons, so my two-month project flew out the window. My backpack was stolen with my Kindle and Bible inside. I became a crappy sister to my adoring brothers and a horrible kid to my hard-working parents. I was incredibly struggling with being a “child” who submits and a sister who loves, yet being a missionary who teaches and preaches. I stopped being in the word daily and I let myself slip out of routine time in the word, big mistake. Don’t try and do ministry without God. One of my best friends got engaged, I lost touch with many friends back home, soccer practice was physically painful and emotionally draining because of all the taunting and over dramatic = skin color questions. Boys became a problem and it made me question ministering in an all-boy ministry…(some times I forget I’m a 16-year-old white, overly friendly female).

These are my weaknesses, these are my failures and I’m done with letting them drag me down. Things went from a hard that I could control to a hard that I had not an OUNCE of power over.  God did some fabulous things this past month. But I’ve just masked the good in the bad so you couldn’t find the good even if you looked. I’ve made it so much about me and what “I’m feeling” that I’ve honestly forgotten that It’s not about me. None of it is. Even teaching ABC & 123 is about Christ.

I’m posting this here because I’m letting it all out and this week, I’m moving on and I’m not talking about it again. I’m done letting the devil win every day. A new month is a new beginning. Some very wise person recently told me, 

“Satan wants nothing more than to make you anything other than a missionary. He wants to rip you away from ministry and sharing the gospel and Christ…forever. He’s making these 11 months as hard as he can because he knows if these are hard enough you will never come back and make the difference that you’re making now.”

I’m praying for some of you specifically right now. Because I know you’re struggling in similar yet different ways as I am. As Christians we’re all under attack all the time and our flesh is just helping Satan even when our Spirit screams NO. This week I’m going to be a student and attend an incredibly intensive counseling class so I can learn how to help our at-risk-boys. First step on my way to becoming a social worker!! Real world experience! I know I need something different to get out of my rut. What do you need? We’re all growing up guys, now, and we can fight the devil or we can fight God. Narrow is the path that leads to righteousness and few are those who find it. Be honest… WHO are you fighting? Because in March, I think my flesh fought with God, and I will NEVER let that happen again.

Love, Kate

Ps. Thank you for all the encouragement that came my way throughout this. If I wrote up all the facebook messages, text messages and letters I received I would be overwhelmed. God is so good.

Pps. I got a new Bible!! The same one I lost. Thank youuuu Mom & Dad. [I’m gonna get my joy back.]

 
 
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some favs.
At 6:30 I fall out of bed to shut off my alarm before it wakes up my little sister. My feet hit the cold floor. I welcome the twinge of pain up my legs because it means my nerves work. I pry my eyes open with peppermint soap, yank out my retainers, grab my bible and force myself to go read some scripture on our beautiful back porch as the sun rises. I want to be in the Word, but I'm hardly self-motivated. I'm distracted by the bats flying around me and the lizards crawling above me and the mosquitoes biting parts of my flesh. I open to Isaiah somewhere. When you pass through the waters I will be with. God whispers a promise. He doesn't say he'll tell me how to get out. He doesn't say he'll help from drowning. He doesn't say he'll throw me a life-ring. He promises that I’m not alone, and that’s enough for me. I'm motivated by that promise and now I have strength to get through the day. I need grace and mercy because I already can tell I'm going to need it. Patience comes in short supply over here. I'm off to Agape by 7:30 with at least one of my brothers, Jimmy, an older teenager friend who goes to school at Agape and our ever doting "Uncle Steve & Aunt Diane". Once on campus, boys surround me. (Good thing I'm used to it, six brothers and all.) As soon as I see their faces my mind fills with their stories. Their abuse. Their neglect. Their abandonment. Their hopelessness. Their families or lack there of. All the bad things I've read in their files and heard from their mouths come rushing to my mind. I forget they're safe. They have a small hope now. Some hope is better than none. I fight out the images than in 10 years this boy might be back on the streets, drunk on glue and helpless. Who can save them now, but Christ? This is when I remember the power of prayer and exercise that power again and again.
I head to my classroom to organize the lessons for the day. I have just one student. Daniel. He is “my project.” Today I want to strangle him because he thinks its fun to play hide and seek when I want him to clean the classroom. Funny, I'm not in charge. Reality check. I fight with myself. Am I helping, or hurting this child? Am I preparing him for his real future or for a fake parallel universe? Will he actually retain any of this knowledge? What will happen when I'm gone? I fight these questions back for the moment…and focus on the present. Reminded again that I know nothing. Humility is the only way. I whisper a prayer to be patient with the boy who understands and speaks no English. Who shows few facial expressions. Who communicates only via grunts. Who stinks and needs to learn how to wash his clothes. Then I remember...I only need to do one thing, one thing at a time. Serve one person. Help one person. Give to one person to make a difference. I cannot become discontent with what I'm doing or I'll never find any pleasure in serving. I remember that I need to act as if what I do matters. It does. Daniel and I sing songs, we grunt sounds, we add numbers and crawl on the floor playing hide and seek. I can’t wait to become a Special Ed teacher so I can actually help boys like this one. “My project” is changing me into someone who sees the beauty of rehabilitation. I see the boys: Daniel, Bramuel, Jacktone, George, Richard and so many more. I remember how they used to fight me: physically and emotionally. They used to run to the streets weekly. They used to punch me, grab me, insult me and criticize me until I wanted to cry like a baby. I'm not exaggerating. Today these boys don’t stand before me as perfect children, but as boys who are different. They are changing and that’s all we can ask for.
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"My Project"
I skip around to the other classes to visit my friends, and on break I lock up my schoolroom and go to take tea with the staff in our dining hall. I take tea here. Everyone does. If you don’t…you’re just not Kenyan. I can only stand sitting for 15 minutes before I’m itching to go outside with my boys. They’re stuck in school so long and their meager breaks are a breath of fresh air for both of us. My arms are never empty and my heart is always full. I continually have to be patient. They’re always asking. They’re always needy. They always want something more that I can’t give. I’m done with Daniel. I pray I did something right, Lord. I check in with my favorite social worker: Winnie, drop by the laundry area where the new boys from the streets are always found, and wave goodbye to my big sister, my Juvenile Remand companion. But I will not be going to Remand today. 

I walk out the gates of Agape by lunch most days; I feel so confident and safe next to my big brothers. Both brothers are bigger, now. I am safe in Christ, so nothing worries me. Well, almost nothing. We hop onto a motorbike as a few street boys yell our names. We’re back home for a bit, resting, eating, laughing, fighting, talking to you back home. We’re a normal family. We’re so not perfect. In the afternoon I either am cooking some delectable food, trying to do a bit of school because surprise surprise, I’m still in 10th grade, or just talking to our favorite guard and house friend: Emmy & Issac. I learn so much from them. They’ve taught me that I’m still a child. They’ve taught me I’ve so much to learn. They’ve taught me most of the Kiswahili I am privileged to speak, which, by the way, is improving by leaps and bounds.

By 4:30 I’m back on the motorbike with one of our pastors who drives a motorbike as his primary source of income and we're off to soccer practice. Most days I love soccer. On some days, like this one, I loathe playing soccer. Most often the girls are sweet, protective and helpful. But often they’re hurtful, rude and tiresome. But I remind myself it’s another mission field. These girls are my peers. This is who I would be if I were a Kenyan right now. Maybe that’s where I’d be…or I’d be like the girls on the street who sell their bodies just to eat. I’m reminded that their rude comments about my inability to play well really have no eternal weight. I’m just hurt, nothing more. I get over myself and make sure to hug the girls with a smile on my face as I leave. Maybe I’m vulnerable. Maybe I’m naive. Maybe I’m innocent and blonde and ditsy. But I have a heart to serve Christ…and that’s the one thing I’m proud of. Because I know what I’m supposed to do and what I’d love to do isn’t what He would do. I make my way home and collapse, spending time with my priceless family. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without them and the other incredibly supportive missionaries here, Chris & Tammy, Blake & Esther, Steve & Diane. They bless me so much.

By 10 I collapse into bed, retainers back in, bed net tucked in, praying for the street boys, sleeping in my room we’re re-modeling and painting. I might as well be in America at this moment, but then again…in America: I act like I don’t need God so much. I’m thankful for another day to be a Kenyan, for another day to be in God’s presence. 
What are you thankful for?
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Love and stuff, K.