Day 3: Why I’m in Kenya . . . . March 6, 2010

 By kristen 

Today we traveled far outside the city limits to visit the Maasai people, a nomadic tribe indigenous to Kenya. More than three hundred women and children met us at the road and walked us into the Compassion project.

The Maasai tribe is known worldwide for maintaining their strict cultural and ritual traditions and resisting modern ways. For centuries, women, especially have suffered in their male dominated world. Polygamy is very common, with men having 3 or 4 wives and dozens of children.

“Female genital mutilation (FGM) and forced marriages of 13-year-old girls to men decades older than them characterize the lives of 99 percent of Maasai girls. A gender-oppressive culture, few and understaffed education facilities, and long treks from home to school and back across the vast savanna plains full of wild animals are some of the challenges girls in my community endure to access education” a quote from one of the Maasai women who grew up as a sponsored Compassion child. (You can continue to read her amazing story and how Compassion saved her from this traditional life here).

The Maasai Compassion project we visited exuded joy. Sheer happiness. It is unbelievable how much Compassion has helped this tribe as a whole.

Today, I saw hope.

http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=9961844&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1

I saw a classroom full of children, excited to learn about Jesus! They were knowledgeable, engaged, interested. Happy!

We
were honored to serve 300 children lunch. It’s tradition to work for
your food, so we served some of the children before we ate:

We traveled to the home of one of the Maasai women, ironically named Kristen
.

She is the third wife of a very old man. She has seven children, one of whom is registered in the program, but waiting to be sponsored.

Her only income to support her very large family is selling her beadwork. She sells a single beaded necklace for 100 shillings. That’s the price of a Coke.

I am wearing a bracelet she spent hours making while I’m typing this post.

The tiny, dark kitchen where she prepares food for her family is the size of a closet:

We brought several weeks worth of food as a thank you for letting us visit her home. (LV demonstrating how the natives carry food on their head).

I fell in love with the colorful Maasai people today. They shine Jesus.

I wasn’t invited to Kenya to blog Compassion’s relief efforts because I’m special or because my blog is a certain size.

I wasn’t asked to come along on this life-altering journey because I am a good writer or gifted in any way.

This isn’t about me.

I am in Africa because of you.

You are the reason I traveled 33 hours across the globe.

I am in Africa because of them.

I left my home and family to tell their story.

I’m just the person in the middle. I’m the narrator of a God story. A conduit.

You have the hard job. You have to weigh my words, take courage and let them seep into your heart. You have to make a choice.

This is about this child needing a sponsor today, right now:

This is about you.

Click here to sponsor a child.

Day 2:True Religion . . . . March 5, 2010

By kristen 

I met an orphan today.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget her face:

These beautiful children welcomed us today into the Compassion Child Sponsor Program about an hour outside of Nairobi. Their faces glowed as they sang and danced for us.

There are 3o3 children at this project who are helped by Compassion. They are fed a balanced meal weekly at the local Anglican church, educated, visited in their homes and watched over. Compassion steps in immediately if they see a child or their family become highly vulnerable.

I sat down on a bench and she scooted towards me. “What is your name?”

In perfect English, “My name is Susan. I am 12.”

She looked at me. I mean, really, looked into my eyes with a question in hers and then she blurted out, “Can I touch your hair?”

Automatically, my hand found my gnarled curls. I haven’t been blow drying my hair straight, so it’s a bit wild and I thought she might be intrigued by The Crazy.

“Yes, you may touch my hair.” She stood behind me and I felt her hands tangle in my hair. She smoothed it out, scrunched it up, all while lightly caressing it. (I wanted to say ‘a little to the left’ because it felt really good!)

She tried braiding my hair and after a few minutes she gave up saying, “I think something is wrong with your hair. I can’t braid it.” Oh Susan, you are a wise one.

She sat down again and I returned the favor, lightly touching her neat rows of perfectly braided her.

Again, her eyes found mine and she questioned, “Can I touch your skin? It is so white.”

This time I could only nod as she gently touched my arms and

then my legs peeking out from my cropped pants.

“You are the first white woman I have touched,” she said in an almost hushed voice.

[Dramatic pause because I almost cried]

“Would you like to see a picture of my children?” I asked.

“Oh, yes!” she said as I dug a photo from my backpack and the other children gathered around. “They are so beautiful. So white.”

I told her that our next family picture would have another child,,, perhaps with skin like hers.

She placed her hand over mine.

Little did I know that Susan was one of the eight children deemed highly vulnerable by Compassion. She is an orphan.

But she is loved by her grandmother, a widow, raising her and three other orphans. Her grandmother is 66 years old, outliving the life expectancy of the average Kenyan woman by nearly two decades. When Compassion found her, the grandmother couldn’t walk, was in extremely poor health due to the stress of raising four orphans on a widow’s mite.

Compassion has made all the difference for this little family.

They have returned their dignity by aiding them in the most practical ways: improving their pathetic home into livable space, helping to grow a garden, providing job skills and money to start a business and so much more.

(the wall of her home)

I’d say there is more joy and contentment in their tiny home than in most of ours.

We packed up to leave and Susan caught my eye. We had already said our goodbyes, but she gave me the same questioning look. I nodded. She ran from the playground (funded by Compassion), and climbed into our van. She threw her arms around my neck.

We held one another. It was like she knew I would mother an orphan one day and understood that I needed one more hug. Or maybe she needed a hug from a mother.

Hot tears mixed with hot water as I washed away the dirt from the streets of Kenya back at our hotel. I couldn’t erase away the feelings and the emotions of poverty and human suffering of such great magnitude. But I don’t think I’m supposed to.

I want to feel it all. I want my heart to break with what breaks the heart of God.

I want to do hard things. I’m asking you to get uncomfortable. I’m asking you to stretch further than you’d like. I’m asking you to do something hard, bigger than you imagined, greater than you planned.

I’m asking you to give up a few fast food meals a month, to take a second look at your family budget, to sponsor a second child or a third. I’m asking you to give until it hurts.

Because it’s in that place of being stretched that God will meet you and bless you. I believe He throws open the windows of Heaven and pours out more than we can handle when we care for the widows and the orphans.

James 1:27 “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.”

I’m asking you to rescue a child from the grips of poverty.

Jesus says that is true religion.

Please, click here to see children waiting for a sponsor. Children just like Susan. There are twelve children from today’s project needing a sponsor. They need you. I’d love for my friends and family and blog readers to sponsor all 12 of them.

Jesus: The Great Social Worker . . . March 5, 2010

By kristen 

Today I walked the muddy streets of Nairobi, Kenya. I stumbled over the rocky path littered with filth and entered the home of a young mother, named Caroline.

She kept her small one-room-home tidy and greeted her guests with a warm smile, holding her one year old on her hip. She wiped the corner of her baby’s mouth with the edge of her dress as she explained how the Compassion Child Survival Program had made an enormous difference in her life.

She’s not so different from me, really. Sure, our worlds are like night and day, one American living in opulence, the other African, living in squalor. But there is a chord that binds our hearts together: we are both mothers.

(her daughter, Eunice)

Please visit (in)Courage to read the rest of her story….

Day 1: Moved With Compassion March 4, 2010

By kristen 
She wore a yellow dress, cinched at the waist, with shoes too big for her feet and a smile too big for my heart.

Her three year old hand found mine and it didn’t take long for her to climb into my lap.

She was a perfect fit.

Her name is Paris and she is a child at Compassion’s Child Survival Program (more info on CSP) in one of Kenya’s 42 projects, that focuses on aiding and educating pregnant women and their unborn. We spent the day learning of this amazing project that invites expecting women into the program for the first three years of their child’s life. This program is crucial since so many children die in the first five years of life.

We were welcomed by song and native dance that left me a weeping mess. Joy and beauty mixed. (here’s a 17 second clip)

Women shared their testimonies of how Compassion teaches them prenatal care and the importance of a balanced diet, vaccinations and breastfeeding. They also learn useful skills (jewelry, soap-making) so they can make money for their families.

We then traveled (on the wrong side of the road!!) to the homes of several of these mothers, dirt roads…through a winding slum…the smells of fish, smoke and sewage filled the air. Emaciated dogs and goats peppered the roads, along with piles of trash and people.

People everywhere, some milling, some begging (and even trying to reach into the windows of our van), many as street vendors trying to sell fruit, meat covered with flies, or their handmade items.

Parking on the side of a dirt road in a congested area, we walked down a winding path to the home of one of the mother’s in the Compassion Child Survival program. Her name is Jackline.

She was so proud to welcome us into her home. It was the size of my master bathroom, with one family bed. She spoke with hope in her voice and with thankfulness to God for the work of Compassion.

She proudly showed us her skill of turning dirt and charcoal into briquettes she used to roast corn, making a profit of around .7 cents each. She usually sells 7-8 ears of corn, making less than around $.50 cents a day, but enough to make a difference for her precious family.

>

Today, I saw hope in a slum. I listened to her dreams of a future in the middle of unspeakable squalor. I saw Jesus.

Paris, the adorable three year old in the yellow dress was waiting when I returned to the project, with her arms outstretched. I was told that her time in CSP is nearly up, and she will be available for individual child sponsorship very soon.

She needs a sponsor. She needs you. I think of my own three year old thousands of miles away living with every luxury of an American child. The only difference in Paris and my little girl is they were born in different places. As her mother, I want the best for her. I pray for God to bless her.

Paris’ mother prays the same thing. She has the same hope for her child. She prays that someone will be moved with compassion. She prays for you.

You can make a difference today, right now. For only $38 a month, you can change a life! Please, I’m asking for the mothers I met today, will you to be the answer to their prayers?

There are twelve children who need sponsors at the CSP project we were at today. Twelve kids waiting on a mother’s prayer to be answered.

“Christ has not body on earth but yours,

no hands, but yours, no feet but yours.

Yours are the eyes through which Christ’s compassion for the world is to look out;

yours are the feet with which He is to go about doing good;

and yours are the hands with which He is to bless us now.” Saint Teresa

Click here to see the children waiting for a child sponsor.

I’m Not Sure If It’s Night or Day . . . March 3, 2010

By kristen
But we made it! The travel was smooth and uneventful and we’re just getting to our rooms to catch a few hours of sleep before a packed day tomorrow. I can’t wait to tell you all about it.
So, yes, Mom. I’m okay. Thanks everyone for your prayers! I felt them traveling across the globe during the last 30+ hours.
The amazing adventure has begun!

Goodbye. United States of America. Hello. Third World Country. . . . March 2, 2010

By kristen

The other day when I mentioned our plans to adopt, my friend Missy, emailed me and said, “Get ready, because Satan HATES adoption. He preys on orphans and he’s going to fight you.”

To which I replied:

“Um, we’ve been talking about overcoming lust and pornography in marriage for weeks on my public blog and I’m going to Africa on Tuesday…I think Satan knows my name,” I emailed her back thinking of the week we’d been having.

Her reply: “I bet Satan has wanted pictures of your face all over Hell.”

And that thought, (especially for this good girl) pleased me immensely. And scared me a bit.

I understand that spiritual warfare is real, but for some reason, I’m always slow to see it as that. This past week, all my carefully laid plans fell apart-from childcare for my kiddos to unexpected expenses, to plain old discouragement. I got nasty comments, a few mean emails, and physically, I felt horrible.

I’m not gonna lie, it’s been a tough journey to get to today.

And if you must know, I stopped for sweet tea waaayyy more than I should have and thus, I’m traveling in stretchy pants today).

(Even on the way to the airport I ran by Chick Fil A. I figured I needed to start this trip in the right frame of mind).

But, I’m on my way to Minneapolis right now, where I’ll meet up with the Compassion Team: Shaun Groves, Patricia Jones (Team leader and my roommate), Keely Scott (photographer), Chris Giovagnoni (Compassion staff), MckMama, Brad Ruggles, Kent Shaffer, LV Hanson, and Ryan Detzel. We’ll arrive in Amsterdam Wednesday morning for a layover and then on to Nairobi, Kenya, arriving after about 36 hours of travel.

And I’m just giving Satan and Hell fair warning, there are many people praying for this journey and I’ve got an amazing partner (GOD) leading the way.

Would you pray for our team?

Would you pray for me? Because the whole Wanted Poster is sort of new for me.

To My Family . . . . March 1, 2010

By kristen
To my precious children and best friend:

Well. Here we are. We have anxiously and excitedly counted down the days until I travel to Kenya, Africa.

There has been an palpable energy in our home for weeks, an expectant feeling and more love, touching, hugging and being than I’ve ever experienced. My heart is so full. As I’ve readied for this journey, each of you has come beside me and enabled me to go. You’ve given me the greatest gifts-encouragement, courage, love and abiding joy.

To my children: You’ve given me wings to fly across the globe and tell another child’s story. You’ve selflessly released me to shed the light on the forgotten, to give the poor a face, so that children might be rescued from poverty.

Thank you, sweet babies. I am honored to be your Momma and I am so proud of each of you. You have taught me so much.

(the note my oldest made for me, tucked away in my unstamped passport)

I love you.

To my husband: You are the perfect match to my soul. I’m taking you with me because I am not whole without you. You will walk the dirty streets and see the dust covered children with me. I carry you in my heart. Thank you for being my greatest friend and champion. You have encouraged this in me, you have been my hero and shown me Jesus.

I love you.

The day I said yes to this trip with Compassion International, I knew I would return a different person, never seeing life the same thru my naive eyes.

But I didn’t know I would be a different person before I even left. My sweet family, you have prepared your hearts and we will never be the same.

I am ready.