Another Dose of Reality...

What you are about to read is a tough story.  Some of it may be too much for some of you, but it is what happened.  It covers some of the realities that the people of Kenya face on a regular basis.  It covers something that I (Sean) needed to be a part of; something that I needed to experience.  Not because of morbid curiosity, but it could be something I will need to face in the future here.  I have not included names in this story because I do not feel it is appropriate at this time.

This week, one of our staff members lost her son to an illness.  What that illness was, I am not sure.  It was something that he had been battling for a while. But, this seemed to take his life without warning.  The son was twenty-three years old.  The mother was so distraught over her son’s death that she didn’t know what her next steps should be.  A few of us from In Step went to her house to help her get her son to the mortuary.  Not something that we really do in the West.  The transport of our loved ones is usually left to a coroner, or a funeral home.

When we got to the home, there were a few community members there to offer their support and condolences.  As we entered the house, sitting in a chair in the corner, was our Auntie.  At her feet was her son. He was placed on a tattered foam mattress, and covered over with a bed sheet.  I am not sure how long she had been sitting there.

The story we were told about how this came about was that her son had vomited blood earlier in the day.  He told her not to worry, that he believed that God performed the operation he needed to be well again.  Later that evening, a friend paid him a visit and the two of them talked about everyday things.  The friend got up to leave, and shortly after leaving the door, heard the young man vomiting again.  He entered the house to see that he was throwing up blood again.  Our Auntie was in the room trying to comfort her son, who kept telling her that he was weak, and that she shouldn’t worry, but just hold him.  I believe that he fell asleep and died in her arms.

After we greeted the woman, she pulled back the sheet to show us her son.  He was positioned in a manner that made it look like he was sleeping.  His hands placed up beside his head.  We asked her what she needed us to do.  She had no idea.  We asked her if her family was here to help her.  She said that two of her other sons were away, and were trying to arrange transport to come.  Her brother was going to be arriving on Sunday (this was on Friday).  Her brother-in-law was at the home, but he hadn’t been a part of her life since her husband died in 1999.

This woman had been living with her now dead son and a granddaughter who may have been about thirteen years old.  No one else in her family had even visited her in years.  We found out that she didn’t expect much help from her family, as they “went wild” (as she put it) when she asked for assistance when her husband died.  She was adrift and had no one who could guide her through this loss.

A couple of people went into the house to collect the body.  They wrapped him in a wool blanket and carried him into the back of the vehicle.  For reasons I can’t explain, because I don’t know the reason, about five people went with us for the ride to the mortuary.  I can only guess that it was to support the mother in her time of grief.  This is something that I have heard about, and seen from a distance.

Once we got to our destination, and were finally allowed in, a metal gurney was wheeled up to the back of the truck, and a couple of attendants removed the body.  The son was then taken into the main room of the mortuary.  We looked on from the outside, as they removed the blanket with as little grace and dignity as possible. The blanket was thrown to the entrance of the building.  When asked if she wanted it back, the mother shook her head no and flung her hand at it as if to say “Just get rid of it.”

I found out later, that standing on the threshold of the door, was the limit of where I wanted to be in the mortuary.  Once you entered into the main room, behind a curtain was a stack of bodies that were either waiting to be collected, or were not going to be collected.  Because they were not afforded the special treatment of the coolers, they were in various “states” and numbered over one hundred.  It has been a busy time at the Kitale District Hospital’s mortuary.

Once everything was settled, and we were back in the vehicle to take everyone home, the woman fell asleep.  Emotionally and I am sure physically exhausted from everything her day and previous night entailed.  We dropped everyone off, and wished the woman well and went home ourselves.

I cannot imagine the pain that this woman is experiencing.  I cannot fathom the loneliness of having to handle something of this magnitude alone.  The only good thing that is coming from this is that the community around this woman is gathering to be at her side.  Her church is helping her with some expenses, as are her neighbours and co-workers.  What is her family’s contribution?  They will cover the cost of the suit that her son will be buried in.

This is Kenya.  This is life.  This is death. This is another dose of reality.

Teardrops Today

Awhile ago a friend here in Kitale, had told me about this new song from Laura Story called Blessings. I thought it would be a good song to listen to but then I forgot all about it.

Until today.

One of my dear friends posted a bit of the song as her Facebook status this morning and then I remembered the song.  So I found it on itunes and downloaded it and listened to it for the first time today.

Lots of teardrops fell.

I’m having a difficult time right now; there are different reasons for it this season.  There have been so many things and changes going on in such a short period of time that sometimes I feel like I’m suffocating. I feel like I haven’t been able to catch my breath in a long while.

There’s a deep passion/longing in me that is so strong that sometimes I think that it too is suffocating me.  It’s like I can’t get past it to see the bigger picture of who I am and what I am to do.

So why the song?

Maybe my eyes, ears and heart aren’t focused on the right things.  Maybe I need to hear what my Father is saying to me when I cry or all those nights when I can’t sleep.  Maybe I need to just sit, rest and breathe.

I need to be more able and willing to hear when He speaks because it’s like the song says,

What if Your blessings come through raindrops

What if Your healing comes through tears

What if a thousand sleepless nights

Are what it takes to know You’re near

And what if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise

So I’ll try to soak up the raindrops, the tears, the sleepless nights and the trials if it means being closer to You.

Meredith

Count 'Em: 106 & 107

So I haven’t updated. We’re busy; very busy. When you have 107 children (yes we gained two since I last updated), sleep, time and life seems to slip away.

Our number 106 child is Esther. She’s beautiful. She’s spunky. She’s malnourished. She’s HIV+. She’s suffered from untreated TB. She’s been raised by her eight year old brother, Philip.

Do I have your attention now?

On October 25^th, Carla received a phone call from the children’s department asking them to take Esther.  When Carla brought her home, we were shocked that she was 2.5 years old. A 2.5 year old girl in a nine month old body. A nine month old body with a mouth full of beautiful straight white teeth.

In November of 2010, Esther’s mother died of AIDS. It became the responsibility of her then eight year old brother to take care of his then 1.5 year old sister. Philip stayed at the hospital alongside with his mother until she passed away. He then walked miles and miles to his grandmother’s house, with Esther on his back, to tell her that her daughter had died and to hope that Esther and he could live with her. The grandmother let them stay there, for a little while, but didn’t take care of them. Philip began going to the streets, with Esther on his back, begging for food.

Both of them were starving. Philip wasn’t in school and Esther wasn’t growing; the symptoms of HIV and not getting a balanced diet were winning over her.

A concerned person who saw these children in their village contacted the children’s department asking them to rescue these two children.

And they were rescued.

Philip is with a ministry called Mattaw Children’s Village (www.mattawchildren.com), which was started by very dear friends of Sean and mine. Their names are Bud & Kimberly Huffman. 

Esther is with us at In Step (www.rehemainstep.com).  Our goal is to eventually reunite the siblings, as in living together, after we can build up Esther’s health, strength and immune system.

Here are some pictures of them:

Esther - shortly after we got her.

Esther & Philip together for the first time since separated. 

Esther & Philip together a few weeks ago.

Our number 107 child, Michelle 3 (we nicknamed her 3 because she is the third Michelle we have).  She is three years old.

I had stopped off at the children’s department on November 21^st to discuss a few things with them and there was this little girl in the office crying. I noticed she had on a pair of silver, little girl high heel shoes. She had her ears pierced by only one earring in an ear.

The children’s officer tried to get her to great “the white woman” but the little girl was scared of me.

A little while later (and my third trip to the children’s office the same day), this little girl had warmed up to me. She greeted me; she smiled at me and she even let me give her a hug.

Then the children’s officer asked me if In Step would take her for some time.  Apparently she got lost from her parents in an area of Kitale called Showground.  Whether she was separated from her parents by accident and they couldn’t find each other or whether they separated from her on purpose, is unknown.

Michelle, at the age of three, walked the streets of Kitale and ended up walking to an area called Tuwaini, which would be about 3-4 kilometers from where she was lost.  Finally someone there, a matatu (public service vehicle here) driver noticed this little girl walking around the streets by herself and he took her in to his home. For several days, he would take her into town with him, putting the word out that there was a little girl who had been separated from her parents, hoping her parents were looking for her too. No one ever came.

So the driver took her to the police station, who then took her to the children’s department, who then asked In Step to take her in.

Sean and Terry were waiting in the truck for me as I’m doing my last run for the day in the children’s office. I came running out of their office, opened up the door and said, “So, we have number 107 coming home with us today!”

What’s one more?!?!

I got in the truck and the children’s officer brought over Michelle and as soon as she realized that she was being put into a vehicle with three strangers and let that be three WHITE strangers, she began to scream.

I suddenly remembered that Terry had bought us popcorn from the grocery store and, with her in my lap, I grabbed a small bag of it and asked her in Swahili if she wanted it. She went from screaming to stopping (in less than half a second) and did a small grunt to answer that she indeed wanted the popcorn. I ripped it open for her, she leaned back against me and got comfortable and gobbled up the popcorn. And then 10 minutes later, she crawled over to Sean, who was sitting in the middle, curled up on his lap and fell asleep for the remainder of the ride back out to In Step.

Michelle, like Esther, is spunky. She will tell you what she likes and doesn’t like. If you do something wrong, she will give you a dirty look. She has no problem tattling on the other kids when they’ve teased her or someone else around. She even tried to get an Auntie in trouble because she didn’t want to do what the Auntie wanted her to.

The first few days were difficult for her; she said she wanted to go home and be with her mom.  We’ve got a picture out and hopefully the children’s department will be able to have the parents located. I really hope they are parents who want to be found and who didn’t really lose this beautiful little girl on purpose.

Here’s a picture of Michelle 3.

A week after being at In Step

If you are in the US and would like to sponsor one of these two girls or any of our other children, please go to www.rehemainstep.com.

We now have the sponsorship program available in Canada too!  We’re so excited about this. If you are in Canada and would like to sponsor an In Step child, please email us at: instepcanada@gmail.com for further details.  

Much Love,

Meredith

Sorrow AND Rejoicing

I realized today that it has been over a month since I last updated.

October has been quite a month; a month filled with mostly sorrow AND rejoicing.

I celebrated my 35^th birthday on October 5^th. Anyone who knows me well knows that I LOVE birthdays...especially mine. J

To me, age is just a number. It doesn’t dictate what we can or can’t do in life. It doesn’t define who we are. Birthdays are for me to rejoice in the previous year:  the things I learned, the things I lost, the things I gained, the things I cherish and that I was given another year on this earth. I love birthdays; it’s a celebration.

This year’s birthday was a bit more of a difficult one than the past 34 years (no, I don’t remember my first few birthdays but that’s neither here nor there). 

The day before my birthday (October 4^th), I suffered a miscarriage.  Sean and I had lost our first baby. We weren’t very far along but that doesn’t change the fact that we still lost a part of us.

It was a busy day that day too. We were out at In Step and we were having visitors out that day as well.  Sean was AMAZING; he took care of everything.  

The day after was my birthday. We tried to proceed in a “semi-normal” manner. Sean took me for lunch; he made me a wonderful dinner and a heart-shaped birthday cake.  He bought me a few presents.  By the end of the day, we were exhausted and all we could do was cry.

The comfort we do have is knowing that our little one is in heaven and someday we’ll get to meet him/her.  There is sorrow with the fact that we lost our baby but we rejoice in the fact that we will someday be reunited.

To our family and dear friends who were there for us during that time, thank you for your words of encouragement; your shoulders for our tears and your ears for our voices. We are so incredibly thankful for you all.

Much Love,

Meredith

And Then There Was 105...

Jeff got a call today that there was a two-month old baby that needed to be placed with In Step. So Carla and I got in the car and headed to town to pick up this sweet little baby.

We arrived at the courts and spoke with the magistrate regarding this little one’s story.

Heartbreaking.

The mother is 14 years old. Her step-father is the father to the child. The mother is believed to be mentally unstable.

Sickening. Saddening.

The step-father is now in prison and the mother to the baby has been in a safe place for the past few weeks.

When we met the mother, she eyed Carla and me up and down.  Not a single smile cracked from her lips.

The baby from what we could see was very malnourished and not taken care of very well. The young mother was barely producing enough milk to feed her child on a regular basis. I can only hope and think that the mother was doing the best she could with the resources she had.

When it was explained to her by the children’s officer that we would be taking the baby to the children’s home, she did not want to release her baby to us. She said she wanted to consult her mother first.  She didn’t want to make a decision until she had her mother with her. We understood.

So the children’s officer took the girl to her family’s home to retrieve her mother. When they returned, the mother to the girl (the grandmother to the baby), was explaining to her daughter that this was the best thing for her baby. This way, she could still go to school and then be able to provide for her child someday. We explained that she could be able to come and see her child at any time.

And then she handed her baby over.

I grabbed a hold of this little baby, eyes wide open, light as a feather and kissed the forehead. I looked up to the mother and gave her a nod.

And then Carla and I saw it. A smile broke across this 14-year olds face. A big smile. She began laughing and joking with her mother. It was like she was 14 again. And the weight of the world, and this baby, had been lifted off her shoulders.

Carla and I said our good-byes and headed to the car.  We knew the name of the baby was Willingtone but we didn’t know if the baby was a he or she. They kept calling the baby a ‘she’ but based on the last name, we thought the ‘she’ was really a ‘he’. We went to the backseat of the car so that Carla could put a new diaper on him/her.

When I handed the baby to Carla, I saw a greenish brown spot on my hand and wrist area.

“Umm, I think I have poop on my hand.” I say.  And then a not so brilliant move, I smell my hand. “Yep, I have poop on my hand.”

Just at that moment, Carla opens up the blanket the baby is wrapped in and there in the bum area of the pajamas is a big greenish brown spot. Carla confirms what I have already smelt on my hand.

This baby didn’t have a diaper on, nothing. The poop had run down the legs and into the footie of the pajamas.

Carla got the baby all cleaned up and a new little diaper put on, a blanket around him/her and we were good to go.

When we got home, all the kids were excited to meet their new little brother/sister.

So is Willingtone a boy or a girl? During the diaper change, it was confirmed that Willingtone is a boy!!!! 

Thank you Lord for Willy. Thank you for keeping him safe and for trusting him to In Step. We’ll all take good care of him. This is a place of love and acceptance and he’s already got it from us all: love and acceptance.

Much Love,
Meredith

Melissa Small

Last night, Sean and I spent the night out at In Step. It’s becoming a better routine for us now. When we arrive at the home, the children are usually outside at this point. When they see the vehicle turn into the driveway, they start to chant our names: “Mama Mary, Baba Sean!”  We LOVE it.

I want to write a bit about a girl named Melissa. She’s nicknamed Melissa Mdogo, which means small in Swahili. There is another Melissa at In Step and when this Melissa came, they decided to call her Melissa Mdogo because she was younger (and smaller) than the other one.

Anyway, Melissa and I actually have a history together. A history that started way before In Step and when she was very small.

Melissa’s mother used to be on the streets. She would be drunk and high as she carried Melissa on her back, going around trying to sell beads. She said they were for her daughter, but in reality it was for her addictions.

I would see Melissa and her mother almost every day on the street. Her mother had a raspy voice, with the drunken slur and I could hear her calling me from a block away, “Maaary, Maaary!”

Melissa’s hair, most of the time, would be the colour of copper, which usually signifies malnutrition. Her mother would always tell me that Melissa was hungry and needing food. On most occasions, I would run into the grocery store and buy a loaf of bread and a small carton of milk. I would sit on the steps of the grocery store with Melissa and her mother and watch Melissa scarf down the bread and milk.  I would hold this little girl (she was one when I first met her) and just love on her and pray over her. I would try to communicate with her mother, with my limited Swahili and her limited English, to help her get help. But she just didn’t.

I’m not going to lie; there were times where I would just hope that Melissa’s mother would just hand me Melissa and ask me to take care of her and raise her. I hated seeing this beautiful little girl going through such a rough life; I wanted her to have a better life than that on the street.

In early 2009, Melissa and her mother became seriously ill and ended up in the hospital. It was then that her mother realized that she had hit a rock bottom, thinking that she may die and knowing at this point in her life if she were to survive, she wouldn’t be able to take care of Melissa and her newborn son (whom no one really knew about at that time). She wanted to give them to a person/place that she knew would take care of them until she, herself, could get the help.

Our good friends at the Coffee Shop helped Melissa’s mom with the medical bills and assisted her in getting rehabilitation and helped her with a job.  It was in April of 2009 that Melissa’s mother, along with the Coffee Shop, asked In Step if they would take Melissa and Benson. And they did.

Shortly after arriving at In Step

The changes in Melissa these past two years has been incredible. She knows that she is safe and taken care of. She has a bed to sleep in and not a veranda at a shop or a hard, cold floor. She doesn’t have to wonder, at the age of one (and up) what she may or may not be eating today; she now has a full belly of food every day. She doesn’t have to worry about dying of malaria or typhoid or tuberculosis or pneumonia (due to cold weather conditions at night) because she knows that when she is sick, she will be taken to the doctors and given medicine to feel better. She doesn’t feel alone because she has 103 other children that she calls brothers and sisters.

Melissa has a relationship with her mother, who comes out every few weeks to visit her and Benson. Melissa enjoys spending that time with her mother as much as her mother enjoys seeing them. Every time we see her mother, she ALWAYS asks how her children are doing and asks us to greet them (a common comment here in Kenya) for her.

She loves her children and did what she thought was best for them.  I am so happy with her progress; she still has a way to go but she knows that she is making her life better for not only herself but for her children. That’s all that can be asked of her right now. She got a second chance at life.

And for Melissa; she too, got a second chance. God has BIG plans for this girl; He has always watched over her.  I’m so excited and thankful that we get to be a part of her story and her life, in a different way as in years ago.

Melissa today at In Step

Much Love,

Meredith

A Wonderful Destiny

Sean and I are at In Step right now. We have a sweet little four-month old in our room with us tonight. Yes, that would be the infamous Cindy (aka Cindy-Lou!).

Anyway, I want to share a story with you; a story about destiny.

She has the sweetest brown eyes I’ve ever seen and the eye lashes that a lot of women would pay money for.  She has one of the cutest smiles and when you make her funny smile face, she imitates it and we all laugh. It’s a smile where she closes her eyes really tight, scrunches her nose, and shows all of her teeth.

She didn’t always smile.

When she came to In Step on February 16, 2011, she was a broken 11-month old with the saddest eyes in the whole wide world. Her mother was mentally unstable and therefore unable to take care of her. Her father: he had broken her. He had just gone to prison for raping his daughter; this sweet little baby girl.

She didn’t know how to laugh. When her diaper was being changed, she would scream.  Perhaps in fear of what she thought was coming next, we don’t know. But she was a broken, sad little girl.

Fast forward to today.

Since being here at In Step, almost seven months now, she is one of the happiest little girls.  She LOVES to cuddle; she does not fear Sean or Jeff. She is always smiling.

When I sit down, this little girl comes over to me and wants to be held. I pick her up and she immediately buries her head into my neck, arms wrapped around me.  I get kisses on my cheek from her.  She loves to be loved.

A broken, sad baby girl is now a healing, happy little girl. She found a safe place with safe people who have so much love to give her.

So why the title “A Wonderful Destiny”? Well, her Swahili name in English means Destiny. She IS a wonderful Destiny and I pray and believe that she is destined for amazing things. She lights up a room and lights up my heart.

I adore this little girl. She is a true blessing to all who get to meet and love her.

Much Love,

Meredith