Hope to the Hopeless

Last week, we went and did another assessment to a slum area that we had never been to before. In fact, we didn’t even know it existed.

We met an amazing woman named Caroline.  She’s a widow - twice over. Both husbands died of HIV.  She, herself, is HIV positive, fighting to stay alive for her children.  

Caroline’s home is no bigger than eight feet by eight feet. It is your typical home of mud and sticks with a leaking tin roof.  She has one bed and two chairs for her and her children to sleep on.

Caroline & her home

Caroline is the type of widow we love to and desire to work with.  She saved up money from casual work and invested it into a business to help support her family.  She goes to town each week and purchases clothes inexpensively.  She then walks back to her home area and sells them for a higher price.  With this business, she makes about $50 US per month.

Sean encouraged and affirmed the great work she was doing.  The more he encouraged her, the more his eyes welled up with tears.  And so did Caroline’s.  When was the last time, if ever, that she was told she was doing a great job to take care of her children? When was the last time someone showed love through their words to her?

Sweet Caroline

During our meeting with her, she told us that her 15-year old daughter was not in school because she did not have the funds at the time to register her into grade eight.  Grade eight costs a bit more because of preparation for the final exams to head the class into high school.  Unfortunately, her daughter will not be able to attend school for the 2014 year as you need to register at the beginning of the school year which is in January.  Hopefully, we’ll be able to get her registered into school in the 2015 year.  In the meantime, we are praying about what she can do for the remainder of this year so that she doesn’t stay idle at home.  We are looking into a few different options.

We also found out that her two of her daughters, ages 10 and 12, walk round-trip 40 KILOMETERS (almost 25 miles) for school each day. They head out at 6:00 in the morning, when it is still dark, walking through the slum area to get to school. The reason they walk so far is because they were going to move to that particular area, enrolled in school and then Caroline decided not to move there but couldn’t afford the fees for the schools in her new home area.

This caused us great concern as walking in the dark in both the morning and evenings is dangerous, especially for girls. The chances of them being raped, taken for child trafficking, or kidnapped to be house girls’ increases in areas of where they walk through.

We also found out that the two younger ones, ages 5 and 6, walk round-trip 12 kilometers (over 7 miles) to their preschool. This too, is dangerous for them.

When we heard this, we knew that this was an immediate need for the family; to get her four children out of the schools they were currently in and into schools that were closer so that they would be safer in walking to and from home.

This is where we are calling upon you for assistance.

In order to move the four children to a school in their home area, we need to raise $300.  This will cover the cost of: desks, uniforms, school fees, feeding program, and school supplies. 

Anything we get above and beyond that amount, we would like to put toward two different things.  The first is to increase Caroline’s current business. If we can have her invest double, she will be able to make more each month and be able to provide for her children the basic necessities of food and shelter.  Our prayer is that we can come alongside and assist with school fees for the children through the sponsorship program but she can take care of their other needs.

The second thing, should there be excess, is to purchase a bunk bed (or two), mattresses and blankets for them.   We would like to work with her to possibly find a bigger place for the family, especially if she is able to increase her monthly income. Then we can purchase the beds once she’s in the new home.

Our first and foremost desire is to protect her children and get them to closer schools.  

If you would like to assist with this, please see below of where to send the money.

You can send cheques to:

ReACT

199 Jean Street

Barrie ON

L4N 7S9

CANADA

Please make the cheques payable to: ASSISTS PROJECTS and on the memo line of the cheque or an attached note, write: O5M – Caroline.

Note:  Our apologies to our US supporters as you will not receive a tax receipt if you send funds to this address. We are working on getting a US contact so that you will be able to receive tax receipts in the near future.

We look forward to updating you on this family.

Thank you in advance for your support.

In His service,

Sean & Meredith

Least of These

I, Meredith, have been in Kenya for over eight years now. I have seen a lot.

Poverty. Death. Sickness. Witchcraft. Demons. Hopelessness.  Brokenness.  Widows. Orphans. Girls who lost their innocence too young. And not by their decision.

And I have seen the hand of my Abba, my Father in all of these situations. His love, His presence is the healing of it all.

I have seen Him remove demons from a young woman.  I have seen Him heal a little boy who’s little body was covered in HIV, chicken pox, meningitis, malaria, typhoid and pneumonia and was given less than 24 hours to live.  Less than a week later, that little boy was in our backyard, running around with a soccer ball.

I have seen Him restore beauty and love into young girls who had their innocent lives ripped out of their hands. I have seen Him in the smiles of the forgotten, the widows and orphans, by providing for them in ways that only He can provide.

I have seen Him love on Sean and me these past few months through opening doors, words of encouragement from people and providing needs without us even having to ask Him.

He knows and He loves.

With God’s leading and vision, Sean and I have started a new ministry here in Kenya (more on that in another blog) and are networking with other ministries to see how we can come alongside them and assist families in their area of which they serve.

Last Tuesday, we went with another ministry, Africa Connect, to visit the Tuwani slums.  Africa Connect has a great relationship with the people of Tuwani. They have been there many years and have transformed lives by bringing God’s love and light to a place that was once dark.

The need in Tuwani is great and we want to be able to assist Africa Connect in the desire to see the widows and their children and the orphans living with their grandparents to have a chance of getting out of poverty, free of malnutrition, healed of illnesses, education for the children, and to find hope and love in Jesus.

The first family we met, the guardian of the home was a woman whose name is Susan.

Susan

She cares for three children: two grandchildren and one nephew.  Susan is HIV positive.

Their home which is only one room and no larger than 9x20, is made of mud and sticks. Their roof is made of tin with holes where a ray of sunshine shines through a bit.  Fine for the dry season, not so nice in rainy season.  The one room home is also the kitchen to cook food in. There always seems to be a bit of smoke in the air as the only ventilation I see is the door.

I notice that there is one old bed, two couches and two chairs, all of them worn and very dirty.  There was a sheet hanging from the ceiling to separate the “bedroom” from the sitting area.

Susan looked overwhelmed, tired, and beat up emotionally. I constantly smiled at her just so I could see how beautiful she would look with a smile across her sweet face.  I got one smile. And yes, she is beautiful.

I began to get the stories of the children she cares for. Her nephew, Peter, just four years old, lives with her now. His mother lived in Northern Kenya and in December of 2013, was killed. Her life was taken by robbers; her life worth far more than what they probably stole from her.  You can still see the ache on Peter’s face of knowing his mother isn’t coming to visit him.

Susan’s grandson, Derick, is six years old with a gorgeous and contagious smile. His father was killed during the post election violence. Derick didn’t get to meet his father; he died a few months before Derick was born. Derick’s mother is away in Bible school.  She was taken by a church and comes to visit him when she can.

And last but not least, Susan’s granddaughter, Sylvia. Too young to be in school but that doesn’t stop her from following her brother Derick to school every day and sneaking into the baby class so she can be near him.

Sylvia doesn’t know her father and likely never will. Sylvia was conceived out of rape; all too common in places like Tuwani.  But the blessing is, she has a grandmother that, in her exhausted state, will still try to find food for her. She has a brother who clearly adores her as much as she does him. Beauty from ashes.

Another home we went to visit was a single mother named, Emily. She has four children under the age of six years old.  Her husband ran off on her when she was four and a half months pregnant. 

Emily

Her home is similar to Susan’s except it was about 9x12 in size and the only piece of furniture was a couch that only had one old cushion and a small stool. 

Emily looked broken and hopeless.  We found out that her two month old son doesn’t even have a name. She is waiting for her husband to someday return and give him a name.  For now she calls him the same name as her second born son: Alfred. 

The baby looked drawn and emotionless; he made no attempt at eye contact and didn’t respond to touch. Thankfully, he was a solid baby, being fed by his mother’s breast milk but still my heart ached to take him in my arms and love on him.  I wondered if he felt her sorrow, her pain.

There was a heaviness in these two specific families.  I spoke softly to God, “Shine Your light in these homes.  Let us help them, please. ” Sean prayed over each family before we left. 

Afterwards, Sean and I sat and talked about these two families.  I have been here eight years now and Sean has been here five and half years and our hearts still ache for families like these. You don’t become numb; you don’t just shrug your shoulders and say this is the way of life here.  You take care of the least of these.

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne.  All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.

Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’" – Matthew 25:31-40

Trusting In Him

Sean and I have been on an incredible journey with God these past few months.

He has broken us in places where we needed to be broken. He has mended us where we needed to be mended.

He has done things that have increased our faith even more in Him.  He has shown us that He is the almighty Father and that we can trust Him with all things: big or small.

In Joshua 1, Moses has already died and God has chosen Joshua to lead the Israelites.  I would personally be a bit hesitant on leading the Israelites because, well, they weren’t exactly great followers and in fact, were very difficult to deal with most of the time.

God promises Joshua that He will be with him (“As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you.”  Joshua 1:5). 

The Creator of all things promises to be with Joshua and to never leave him.  What a comfort!

In Psalm 9:10, David sings:  “Those who know Your name will trust in You, for You, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek You.”

We have been trusting in Him, seeking Him, and obeying Him.  And how awesome has this journey been with Him.

In August, God brought two little boys into our lives: Brison & Kevin. He asked us to take care of them for a little while; He asked us to be His hands and hug them.  He asked us to love on them.

“Here we are.” We said.  He trusted us to care for these boys and we trusted Him to provide what was needed in every way.

And He did. He began to provide what would be needed for the boys to stay with us.

Brison and Kevin came into our home just over eight weeks ago.  They were both severely malnourished; they smelled terrible (who knows when they each had their last bath) and were incredibly small for their age.

Five-year old twins, Brison could wear 9-12 month old clothes.  Brison could walk and slightly potty-trained. Kevin could wear 0-3 month old pants while needing to wear 12-18 month old t-shirts because of his distended belly. Kevin could not walk; his legs were extremely weak.  He was not at all potty-trained either.

Just over eight weeks ago, we welcomed them into our home. 

Brison (August 21st, 2013)

Brison has grown taller; he’s definitely having a bit of a growth spurt.  He has learned to dress himself, brush his teeth and go to the bathroom (without accidents most days). With the “home schooling” that I have recently started, he has learned to count to 10. He has learned the sounds of different animals. He is beginning to learn his A, B, C’s and shapes.

Brison came to us with a nasty fungal infection on his head; it’s now gone and his head is healed and clean.

Kevin (August 9th, 2013)

Kevin has grown taller also. He even noticed it a week or so back when his feet could finally touch the foot rest on the high chair. Kevin has learned to dress himself (the odd time he puts two legs in one leg hole – but who hasn’t done that) and brush his teeth as well.  And he walks now. He walks.  It brings such great joy to my heart that he walks now.  And he goes to the bathroom by himself.  He undresses himself, climbs up on the toilet and climbs down when he’s finished. 

Kevin’s distended belly has decreased. His once skinny and weak legs now have chunk and muscle on them.  Kevin has learned to count to 10 and the sounds of different animals. He too, is starting to learn his A, B, C’s and shapes.

We pray for and over these boys every day.  We give thanks to God for these boys every day.  We give our God the glory for these boys and the strides they have made, every day.

Bob the Builders at a Fall Party (October 31st, 2013)

Car Ride (November 4th, 2013)

Kevin walking like a pro (November 16th, 2013)

We have taught the boys how to pray; how to give thanks to God for what He provides for them.  They both even try to be the first one to pray at every meal.  We want them to know God and know that when God promises to never leave or forsake them, they believe Him and trust Him.

For them, you and me to say, “But I trust in You, O Lord; I say, ‘You are my God.’” Psalm 31:14

It's a Wonderful Life

I just turned forty.  Where did the time go?  It seems like a lot of people take some time at this age to reflect on their life.   I don’t know why, but forty seems to be a good age to do that.

Growing up, I was the smallest kid in class.  Even when my mom registered me for school, the lady behind the counter thought that we were registering my older brother.  I don’t have an older brother.  I was never the really popular one either.  I was extremely shy.  It would take me a good hour to even warm up to my grandparents, and I saw them at least weekly.  I am sure that my shyness is what held me back from making friends, but what could I do.  I was bullied.  Usually it was the older and much bigger kids who would come up to me and say, “We saw what you did!  We are taking you to the principal’s office!”  Even though I had done nothing wrong, they would pick up by my wrists and ankles and carry me kicking and screaming to the doors of the school, then put me down and walk away laughing.

In eighth grade my family moved and I went to a new school.  I was able to make a few friends there.  It was pretty easy, because there was only one class for grade eight.  However, once I hit high school, and everybody dispersed into his or her own stream of classes, I once again became a loner.  I would sit with people through lunch, but outside of school I sat at home.

When I reached grade twelve, I got invited to my first party.  At that party, something clicked.  I started to come out of my shell a little.  The more I hung out with my friends (some from grade eight and a few new ones), the more I came into my own.  My sense of humour grew by leaps and bounds.

I didn’t always hear from my friends when I graduated high school.  Once again, we were developing our own paths.  Due to some choices in my twenties, I lost touch with my friends and basically became a loner again.  I had other friends in church, but I really just hung out away from most people.

In my late twenties and early thirties, I reconnected with my high school friends.  The amazing thing I discovered was that they received me back into the group, with no judgment.  I fell back into friendship with them as though no time had passed.  I connected with their children, and in some ways became like an uncle to them.

I had good friends in my church as well.  People, who were able to walk with me through difficult times, encourage me and help me again break out of my shell a little more.  I was a member of the worship team, drama team, and youth group leadership.  I even spoke a few sermons on a Sunday morning.

In my mid thirties, I moved to Kenya.  I was able to make new friends.  These are people who work in the same area, locals, and visitors to the different ministries that we have been involved with.  Some people I hear from.  Others, I don’t.  Some of us try to communicate, but it doesn’t always happen.  Some people I hear from on a regular basis.

Sometimes I wonder about if I have made any kind of impact in the lives of people.  I know how much these people have impacted me.  They have all played a part in who I am today.  All of these people have taken the time to show me who I can be, and who I am.  But, did (or do) I make a difference for them?

This year, for my birthday, my beautiful and amazing wife, put together a scrapbook for me.  This is a big deal on so many levels.  She doesn’t do crafts.  She doesn’t like to do them.  She also doesn’t think that she is talented enough for such things.  I think she is mistaken.  She did a great job.  She hand stitched the binding.  She chose fabric and patterns to make the cover.  She cut card stock for the pages.  Then she did something amazing.

She contacted my family and friends and asked them to send her pictures, and stories and words for me.  I received little blurbs from all kinds of people.  She received pictures of times in my life, I had forgotten.  There were times that had significance for both the people who sent them and me.  From my family, I received messages about how they have noticed the changes in my life from being extremely shy, to becoming less shy (I am still very introverted).  From my friends, they all spoke to how much I mean to them, and the impact that I have made on their lives.  From people I consider to be my mentors, they told me how they have seen me develop and grow.

In all of these messages, people took the time to say how much I mean to them.  I was not expecting that at all.  When I opened the book and realized what it was I broke down and cried (heck, I am crying even as I type this).  I knew just how much people around the world loved me.  That is the best birthday present anyone could receive.  It is the gift that keeps on giving.

In those times when I feel like I am losing touch, and am unable to connect with people far away, I can turn to this book and realize how people see me.  Ultimately, I will be able to see how God sees me.

Let me take this opportunity to say “Thank you” to everyone who was able to contribute to my birthday present.  Your words, pictures and love mean the world to me.  You have all touched me deeply and shown me, again, who I am.  I am truly blessed to have all of you in my life.

To Meredith, you are truly amazing to put this together for me.  This gift blows my socks off.  The hours you put into it, and the amount of love you poured over it cannot be equaled.  Thank you for being in my life.

I can truly say that this is a wonderful life that I have been given.  I have a wonderful wife, and I have wonderful friends all over the world.  I am glad for the reminders.

“But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called Today, so that none of you may be hardened by sin’s deceitfulness.”

Hebrews 3:13

The Reality of it All

I have been trying to write this blog for awhile and I start typing but then delete it all. How do I express myself in a way that will help people to understand, to get behind us and other ministries in Kenya and support this life here and know that it IS our call, our passion to be here?

I, Meredith, have been in Kenya for almost eight years.  I have seen and experienced more in those eight years than I did in the twenty-eight years of living in Canada.

Why?

North America has bad things happen. Children are abandoned, starving, beaten, raped and dying.  I know that.  Kenya has bad things happen. Children are abandoned, starving, beaten, raped and dying.  I know that too.

I think the difference is, and knowing that the economy and government services are struggling, is that North American government still helps their own people, in some way or another.  When bad things happen to children in North America, someone is held accountable for it. The justice system isn’t always the greatest there but when bad things happen to children, the public HATES it and fights for them.

I know in many States that if a mother can’t care for her child any longer, she can drop that baby off at a hospital or police station or a fire department, with no questions asked, no charges laid.  It’s a safe place; it’s a place where a mother knows that her child will get taken care of. 

In Kenya, there really no safe place and so many mothers are left with the choices of abandoning the baby in a maize (corn) field, the hospital, the side of the road or a dump.  They do this with the hope that their baby will be found and taken care of by a passerby or taken to a children’s home where the baby will likely be fed three meals a day, have nice clothes on his/her back and get an education. Things the mothers believe they would never be able to provide. 

There is no real assistance from the Kenyan government and if there was, it’s not going into the mothers’ pockets.

The mothers also cringe at the thought, and quickly brush it from their minds, that their child will die where she abandoned him/her.  Hypothermia, wild dogs, sepsis or starvation.  To think about it aches too much.

And then there are the mothers who don’t want to be found out that they desire to abandon their babies and so they drop them down thirty foot outhouses where the baby likely drowns in the filth that lies below.  Never to be heard from or seen again.  Only a small percentage of those children are found alive.

There are mothers who are forced to give up their children because their first husband ran away with another woman and the new husband loathes the fact that the children aren’t biologically his and so he beats them, enslaves them or tells the mother to send them away.  This also happens vice versa too.

There is a lack of education here for new mothers. They give birth at home, in the hospital, in the field and that is it.  Especially a first time or young mother needs wisdom and direction.  New or young mothers don’t know what to look for; what is right or what is wrong.

For anyone who has been following my status updates on Facebook this past week, you’ll know that I have been visiting the local district (government) hospital.  It’s a sad place. It’s dirty, cockroach filled, understaffed and overcrowded.  In the children’s ward, there are almost always two children to a bed plus their caregivers.

The caregivers usually consist of either a mother or grandmother who looks exhausted and overwhelmed. And almost all of them having that burning question in their minds, “How on earth am I going to find the money to pay for this hospital bill?” A bill that could be no more than $50 to $100 at the government hospital.

On Friday of last week, my friend Kim and I went to the hospital to visit twin boys who were brought there by a social worker who met the boys in a nearby slum area.

When we arrived, we found out that only one of the twin boys, named Kevin, was admitted into the 

hospital. Apparently he is in worse condition than his brother. 

Kevin

Kevin is five years old. He is still in size one/two diapers; he is the size of a one and half year old. He cannot walk and can only stand on his very skinny, weak legs when he is holding on to something or someone.  After a minute or two, his legs become shaky because he doesn’t have the strength or muscle in them yet.

His face has sores on them; his teeth are rotting; his belly is very distended. 

He laughs and talks and tells stories. 

He sees people walk into their ward area and demands to know who they are and who they are the mother of.  Everyone that has a bed around him laughs, being entertained by this little boy.

Kevin’s mother died awhile ago; their father and step-mother took them in. They weren’t wanted there and so the two boys paid the price. They weren’t being fed properly and were being beaten.

At one point during our visit with Kevin that day, the social work, asked Kevin if he wanted to nap. He said that he didn’t want to in fear that his dad would come and beat him. Broke our hearts.

Katherine & Valerie

On the same bed as Kevin is a sixteen/seventeen year old mother, named Katherine. She is holding on to a very sickly looking baby. We find out that the baby, named Valerie, has just turned one. She is long in length but super skinny.  She can barely muster up a cry.  She has no teeth, not one single tooth.

Katherine didn’t know that it wasn’t normal for a baby not to cry and because the baby didn’t cry, she didn’t feed her very much.  Valerie, we learned, although does suffer from malnutrition, is also suffering some sort of heart condition. Katherine and Valerie can’t be released from the hospital unless she is immediately transferred to a referral hospital in another town less than two hours from Kitale. She doesn’t have the $50 plus whatever the costs of the tests will be to check on Valerie’s heart.

So she sits in the hospital.

Yesterday when Sean and I went to bring food for Kevin and the others in their section, I saw a new baby on the bed next to Kevin’s.  She was gorgeous.

Her name is Cynthia. We were told by her grandmother that she is seven months old but the size of a three or four month old.  She sucks her middle and ring finger (just like another Cindy Lou I once knew!).  She’s fussy so I go and sit with her and stroke her cheek; she immediately quiets and just looks at me.

My heart melts.

The mother to Cynthia is in school. She is in grade eight. The grandmother feeds Cynthia milk when she can get it. She knows that she is small for her age.

Cynthia has a chest problem. She is on antibiotics and will be in the hospital for a few more days.  I just want to scoop her up and bring her home.  I want to love on her and feed her until she gets those cute little baby rolls.

These stories are only about two beds in that big ward. Two beds.

I was talking with a friend today and I said, “Sometimes we wonder if we are even making a dent of a change/difference in this place.”  She said, “I know what you mean! There is no end to it.”

And no, there is no end to it, at least not on earth.

But this is when we know that we can push through, get down again on our knees, and ask God for the wisdom, the strength, the resources, the ability, the peace, and the direction so that we can keep being His hands and feet in this place.

I want to be a voice for these children. I want to be a shoulder and an ear for these mothers and grandmothers.  I want to help lead them to a Father who supplies all their needs in a way that only He can supply.

It is overwhelming but in those moments of being overwhelmed, Kevin laughs and tells a story.  Cynthia stops crying and falls asleep.  Valerie looks more alert and healthy.  And I feel Jesus making my arms long enough and big enough to hug them and growing my heart big enough to love them the way He loves them.

Sean & Kevin

The Joy of Bubbles

Each month we celebrate the birthday of each child that was born during that particular month in one big party.  Today was such a day.  For those of you unfamiliar with the way we celebrate birthdays at In Step, we call each child up and announce the age that they are turning.  When everyone has been called, we sing “Happy Birthday” to them.  The “birthday” boys and girls, who are old enough then serve cake and ice cream to the rest of the children, then get their own.  Then, we go outside into the yard and the adults (Mama Mary, Mama Carla, Madam Beth Ann and me, usually) blow bubbles for the kids to chase and see who can pop them.  Usually a little one gets knocked down in the excitement, but no one gets seriously hurt.  The next wave of bubbles usually makes a kid forget any offense committed against them.

There is one little guy named Fred, who just loves bubble time.  He runs around chasing the bubbles laughing the whole time.  Fred has a great laugh.  It is a laugh that comes from deep within his soul.  It doesn’t take much for Fred to get that laugh going either.  Any fun play activity can set him off.  It has gotten to the point where the other kids don’t notice, or pay attention anymore.  That is a sad thing.

It is a sad thing, not because the other kids have lost interest in the bubbles.  They have lost interest in Fred’s laugh.  There is innocence to it, and for them it is just another occurrence.  It is just Fred being Fred.  But, what if it was something more?

I just finished reading Rob Bell’s new book “What We Talk About When We Talk About God.”  Love him or hate him, Bell generates thought and discussion about Christianity and faith.  In the book, he talks about looking past the mundane and seeing God in everything.  In the West, a lot of us live in the mundane.  We forget to look beyond the moment and see that we are part of something bigger than ourselves.  In most circumstances, we get up, do our work, go home, go to sleep, and repeat and repeat and repeat.

If we blow bubbles for kids, it is just blowing bubbles.  We don’t participate in the enjoyment of them.  We don’t often marvel at how they float, sometimes out of our grasp and hover over our heads, and at the last minute change direction and come back to earth so that we can pop them. Almost like they are playing a game with us.

Children have a sense of wonder at so many things, and we adults take them for granted.  Eventually kids start to take them for granted, the way the rest of the kids at the home have taken Fred’s laugh for granted.  They are no longer entertained by it.  They don’t laugh with him anymore.  They don’t roll on the ground with him.  What if Fred’s laugh contains the presence of God?  What if God is laughing through Fred to teach us that we need to be enjoying the small things?

I hope that Fred never loses the joy of bubbles.  I hope that his laughter will always come out in the simple things of life.  I hope that we can teach the kids to once again see the sacred in the mundane.  I want to learn to find God in everything.  I want to see him behind every corner.  I pray that you will see the wonder in simple things.

Next month I want to post a video of Fred’s laugh from the next “Happy Birthday”.

Happy Birthday Happiness

This is Gilbert.  He just came to In Step on Wednesday (the 10^th). 

This morning, he came to me with big tears in his eyes and said in Swahili, “Mama Mary, I want to go home.” 

I knelt down and gave him a big hug and told him to just wait some time and that for now, In Step could be his home.

Today was Happy Birthday Day at In Step.  It is always loads of fun for the kids. Cake. Ice cream. Juice. Bubbles.

Philip, one of our other boys and Gilbert’s classmate, was with us when I was hugging Gilbert. I asked Philip to explain to Gilbert what happens on Happy Birthday Day.  Philip was so happy to fill Gilbert in; his face was animated, his arms flailing, his eyes wide with excitement.  The more excited Philip got, the more excited Gilbert got.

All the kids gathered in the veranda. I called all the April birthday kids up to the front.  We sang Happy Birthday and then we handed out the cake and ice cream.  I caught a glimpse of Gilbert at the table and he had the biggest smile on his face. Cake and ice cream.  I think today was his first time ever having ice cream. I could see as he took a bite/slurp of the ice cream, his face scrunch up from the cold of it.

After cake and ice cream and the juice, we went outside for bubbles. Baba Sean, Mama Carla, Madam 

Beth Ann and I went out and blew bubbles as the kids chased them around to pop. 

Gilbert was having a hay-day. He had the biggest smile on his face as he chased around with the other kids, trying to be the first to pop a bubble.  After bubbles were done, some of his classmates were showing me their somersaults, cartwheels and jumps. I would clap and cheer and say, “Good job so-and-so.”

Gilbert shouted in Swahili, “Mama Mary; look at me!”  So I looked and he did a cartwheel. I cheered and clapped for him.  Again, “Mama Mary, look at me!” More cheering and clapping.

I asked him, “Gilbert, are you happy now?” 

His answer, “Yes, Mama Mary; I am VERY happy.”

And off he ran to play. 

Nothing a little cake, ice cream and bubbles can’t help.