I maneuvered my arm from beneath the covers and silenced the musical tones of my cell phone alarm. It was 6:30 a.m. on Wednesday. I listened to the soothing sound of the water running in the shower and knew Paula had risen before the alarm—I wonder if I woke her with my dreaming? Sitting up on the bed, I felt off balance. The dream had shaken me and the lack of sleep had left me groggy. Yet, I knew I had to muster up the energy. So, I pulled my Bible from my pack, twisted the switch on the table lamp and thumbed through Proverbs to locate wisdom for the day.
As my fingers caressed each page and my eyes scanned verses seeking a tidbit to carry with me, I whispered, “I’m tired today, Lord. I know you sent me here to connect. But, I’m a bit frustrated because there just doesn’t seem to be enough time to get any real stories. Help me figure out what you want me to do.”
I ran across Proverbs 16:3, “Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and your plans will succeed.”
“Yes, Lord, I know this already. I’ve committed myself to you and I’ve let go of my own expectations for this trip. I’m having a hard time digesting and processing all this and putting things into words for others to see. Just help me focus and help me let go of worrying about the homework responsibility as well. I feel overwhelmed right now.”
The door to the
bathroom opened indicating it was my turn. I set the Bible and my thoughts aside and headed for the welcomed warmth of a hot shower. This was Ladies’ Day and we women were going to spend time getting to know the various pastors’ wives. This was something I could do…and do it well.
Ruth and I sat together on the 45-minute bus ride from OCC to Magdalene’s house. I knew Ruth had crossed my path earlier in the week, but, I didn’t remember exactly where. As the bus rolled through the streets of Nairobi, Ruth’s story unfolded and I drank in the information. This was the kind of connection I had been seeking on this trip.
Ruth’s story is sadly common. She grew up in a home that was not Christian. Her father was married to four women—at the same time. She is one of 18 siblings and her family disowned her ones she got saved at the age of 13. Ruth experienced feelings of rejection and even considered suicide at one point. But, eventually Ruth was able to reach one of her brothers with the Gospel and he was saved. And eventually her sister came to know Christ as well. She was no longer alone in her faith.
Henry and Ruth are married and together they run the Kariobangi Orphanage. This is not an easy task as they try to raise two children of their own—ages 2 and 5—with another one on the way. When I asked about the children, Ruth explained that this was actually their fourth child. The first one had died. As I thought about the pain of burying a child, I asked her how she had dealt with it. She said she found herself angry at God at that point and questioning Him a lot. Even if we didn’t share the common bond of losing a child, we did share the common bond of having been angry with God and questioning him over the course of our lives.
Ruth asked about my life and family. So, I briefly explained how I had been baptized at the age of 12 but never knew how to have a relationship with Christ. Once God did get a hold of me around the age of 30, I was already married to a man who did not share my faith and the marriage was failing. We had two children together. Eventually we divorced and then I ran from God. This led to a second divorce and now I’m single with a tenacious faith vowing never to run from God again. We shared a moment of laughter and acknowledgment of how grateful we are that God does not let go of us.
As we exchanged the names of our children, Ruth and I found another common ground. We both had sons named George. When Ruth heard this, she pulled a picture of her George from her purse and handed it to me. She said, “I want you to have this picture of my George.” I took the picture from her fingers and safely placed it inside my pack and smiled knowing this was an important part of
the African culture…sharing.
We arrived at a gated community somewhere in the depths of Nairobi which Ruth indicated was Bishop Daniel and Magdalene’s house. I gathered my pack and waited for the bus to stop. Each woman promptly exited the bus and headed toward the stairs which would take us to the modest flat that Daniel and Magdalene called home.
The fellowship continued after each woman removed her shoes and stepped into the living room to find a place next to a woman we hadn’t gotten a chance to know yet. Tea was served and then a formal time of sharing began as Ruth Mayforth gave her testimony of how God was calling her to move to Kenya and work in the children’s hospital.
I pulled my notebook and pen from my pack and began to jot notes as we started around the room. My desire was to get tidbits about each woman and their joys and struggles so that I could share with the people back home. But, what should have been a time of connecting for me became an overwhelming burden.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I love to learn about each of these women and how they came to faith. But, by the time the eighth woman had shared her testimony, I was completely drowning. I had internalized each one’s story and there was no way to release them. My head was spinning and I felt like I was going to pass out. I resisted the urge to run from the room. This had nothing to do with the women...I knew Satan was trying hard to distract me. The more I fought it, the more frustrated I became.
Sending a small prayer upward, I heard God say, “Be still and know I am God.” And I leaned back in my chair to shut out the world around me. My axis settled and I was able to remain seated until every woman had a chance to share. The Holy Spirit was moving through the women and creating a bond that was much needed for them. I did not want to have any part in squelching it.
I came on this trip to learn about the African friends…but, I was learning so much about myself in the process.
As my fingers caressed each page and my eyes scanned verses seeking a tidbit to carry with me, I whispered, “I’m tired today, Lord. I know you sent me here to connect. But, I’m a bit frustrated because there just doesn’t seem to be enough time to get any real stories. Help me figure out what you want me to do.”
I ran across Proverbs 16:3, “Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and your plans will succeed.”
“Yes, Lord, I know this already. I’ve committed myself to you and I’ve let go of my own expectations for this trip. I’m having a hard time digesting and processing all this and putting things into words for others to see. Just help me focus and help me let go of worrying about the homework responsibility as well. I feel overwhelmed right now.”
The door to the
bathroom opened indicating it was my turn. I set the Bible and my thoughts aside and headed for the welcomed warmth of a hot shower. This was Ladies’ Day and we women were going to spend time getting to know the various pastors’ wives. This was something I could do…and do it well.Ruth and I sat together on the 45-minute bus ride from OCC to Magdalene’s house. I knew Ruth had crossed my path earlier in the week, but, I didn’t remember exactly where. As the bus rolled through the streets of Nairobi, Ruth’s story unfolded and I drank in the information. This was the kind of connection I had been seeking on this trip.
Ruth’s story is sadly common. She grew up in a home that was not Christian. Her father was married to four women—at the same time. She is one of 18 siblings and her family disowned her ones she got saved at the age of 13. Ruth experienced feelings of rejection and even considered suicide at one point. But, eventually Ruth was able to reach one of her brothers with the Gospel and he was saved. And eventually her sister came to know Christ as well. She was no longer alone in her faith.
Henry and Ruth are married and together they run the Kariobangi Orphanage. This is not an easy task as they try to raise two children of their own—ages 2 and 5—with another one on the way. When I asked about the children, Ruth explained that this was actually their fourth child. The first one had died. As I thought about the pain of burying a child, I asked her how she had dealt with it. She said she found herself angry at God at that point and questioning Him a lot. Even if we didn’t share the common bond of losing a child, we did share the common bond of having been angry with God and questioning him over the course of our lives.
Ruth asked about my life and family. So, I briefly explained how I had been baptized at the age of 12 but never knew how to have a relationship with Christ. Once God did get a hold of me around the age of 30, I was already married to a man who did not share my faith and the marriage was failing. We had two children together. Eventually we divorced and then I ran from God. This led to a second divorce and now I’m single with a tenacious faith vowing never to run from God again. We shared a moment of laughter and acknowledgment of how grateful we are that God does not let go of us.
As we exchanged the names of our children, Ruth and I found another common ground. We both had sons named George. When Ruth heard this, she pulled a picture of her George from her purse and handed it to me. She said, “I want you to have this picture of my George.” I took the picture from her fingers and safely placed it inside my pack and smiled knowing this was an important part of
the African culture…sharing.We arrived at a gated community somewhere in the depths of Nairobi which Ruth indicated was Bishop Daniel and Magdalene’s house. I gathered my pack and waited for the bus to stop. Each woman promptly exited the bus and headed toward the stairs which would take us to the modest flat that Daniel and Magdalene called home.
The fellowship continued after each woman removed her shoes and stepped into the living room to find a place next to a woman we hadn’t gotten a chance to know yet. Tea was served and then a formal time of sharing began as Ruth Mayforth gave her testimony of how God was calling her to move to Kenya and work in the children’s hospital.
I pulled my notebook and pen from my pack and began to jot notes as we started around the room. My desire was to get tidbits about each woman and their joys and struggles so that I could share with the people back home. But, what should have been a time of connecting for me became an overwhelming burden.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I love to learn about each of these women and how they came to faith. But, by the time the eighth woman had shared her testimony, I was completely drowning. I had internalized each one’s story and there was no way to release them. My head was spinning and I felt like I was going to pass out. I resisted the urge to run from the room. This had nothing to do with the women...I knew Satan was trying hard to distract me. The more I fought it, the more frustrated I became.
Sending a small prayer upward, I heard God say, “Be still and know I am God.” And I leaned back in my chair to shut out the world around me. My axis settled and I was able to remain seated until every woman had a chance to share. The Holy Spirit was moving through the women and creating a bond that was much needed for them. I did not want to have any part in squelching it.
I came on this trip to learn about the African friends…but, I was learning so much about myself in the process.
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