Morgans in Kenya

Thank you for your prayers and being a part of our journey

Monday, 17 June 2013

It’s All About Family

What is God doing with his church in Nairobi? Maureen and I have been seeing how God has been at work among the people of the ACC&S. They are warm, excited, and eager to work together with us toward the transformation of their communities.

Urban Ministry Training:

We held our first urban ministry training conference in Ruiru, where pastors and spouses from 15 ACC&S churches in Nairobi gathered to be trained on Integral Mission. This is CBM's Ruth Munyao talking about the project cycle.

Tea break at the training conference.

Kenyan pastors playing ball...

Dandora Slum:

One of the possible areas for our Urban Ministry Pilot project is the Dandora slum (above). Below, Pastor Peter of the ACC&S, Dandora Church is showing Wayne is renovation plans and dreams for expanded local ministry.

ACC&S Church Visits:

If you don't have cash to put in the offering plate, bring your chicken...

Auctioning off a live chicken as part of a post-worship service fundraising event called a harambe.

Shannon Baines

Shannon is a PHD student from McMaster Divinity College. She came to Kenya on a Short Term Mission to teach, both at EKIC in Mitiboni, as well as at the ACC&S Bible College in Thika. Here she is preaching at Kinyona Church as Rev. Jeremiah Ngumo translates.

Family:

We have had the privilege of having our niece, Cassandra and her friend, Rebecca come from Whitby, Ontario for a great visit. They are both in their 3rd year of University, training to be teachers, and came to volunteer at the Nest Orphanage.

Cassandra teaching Bible College students essay writing skills.

Thank you again for your continued support and prayers. God is good, and he is at work.

Sunday, 14 April 2013

Well Into The Second Year

Teaching

This New Testament Survey class was my first course to teach. I look forward to starting my second, Integral Mission, next term.

___________________________

Delivering Dresses

The Nest Orphanage

These dresses were made and donated

by some awesome women at

First Baptist Church in Prince George, BC.

____________________________

Guardians of Hope Training

Aaron Kenny leading

a morning devotion

Maureen leading the session on
vision and future planning

Water is a 'must'

when you are training
in Mombasa.

____________________________

ACC&S Church Planting

in Mombasa

ACC&S Church Planters -
Pastors Henry Kamau and Bernard Mukethe

Home visit with two-week-old baby Jubilant and her family

Newly formed, Mikindani congregation
in Mombasa, Kenya

____________________________

Happy 17th Michael!

Again, we want you all to know how much your support and prayers mean to us. Thank you.

Friday, 15 February 2013

Legacy

Prince George Citizen: Church Filled...

We want to thank you all for your prayers for our family during this time of mourning and celebration of my father’s life.

The memorial service was held at our home church, First Baptist Church, in Prince George, BC. It was a wonderful time of celebration, sharing of memories, laughing and crying together.

Lance Morgan, 1961

Lance Morgan, 2012

Legacy: A Huge Crowd...

After having been in Canada

for two weeks for my father’s

funeral, we were involved in

a 5-day training conference for

the CBM Africa team.

This is our team leader, Colin

Godwin giving some instruction.

CBM’s H.R. Director, Sharlene

Craig (center), together

with H.R. consultant,

Jane McPhee (left), came

from Canada to teach

Human Resource Management.

CBM’s M&E coordinator,

Pauline Kariuki (right),

looks on with interest.

Gato Munyamasoko – leading

a session on Peace & Reconciliation.

We have recently resumed our work with the Nairobi Pastors, preparing a training event for doing Urban ministry development work.

Looking at a school connected to an ACC&S church.

School Kids

Cecilia's baby

Cecilia is a lady in our neighborhood whom we help out with food. While we were away in Canada, she gave birth to a new baby girl named Jesus. Maureen has made her a hat and booties.

'Through the Gate'

We continue to appreciate your prayers, correspondence, and support. May God truly bless you in these winter months.

Wayne & Mo

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It’s All About Family

Throughout the month of May we had the privilege of hosting my niece Cassandra and her friend Rebecca. It was the first time that I have been able to spend time with Cassandra, with her growing up in Ontario and us living in BC and only being able to visit a few times in her life. Now she is 21 years old. Close to the same age when I moved away from Ontario with my new husband to start a family in BC. And now, 20 or so years later, here I am living on the other side of the world, spending time with my niece. Life is strange.

I found it fascinating observing Cassandra for similarities and differences between her and her mother (my sister), her and her father, her and her grandmother (my mother), and other family members. I could definitely see a family resemblance in many ways, both in physical traits and in mannerisms and expressions. Even so, I was struck by her uniqueness – she is truly her own person – yet with a whole bunch of other influences in the mix. I even saw myself in her, which was perhaps the strangest, being that I haven’t spent much time with her over the years. I found myself thinking about the “nature versus nurture” debate, and concluding that some things must be genetic and others a result of the influence of those around you.

There were times when I felt like I was looking straight at my sister – not because of physical features, but because of something more ethereal. It was like I was looking at my sister’s soul in the eyes of my niece. I think Cassandra would have been weirded out if I told her that, and is probably weirded out as she reads this! And likely so is my sister, Cora!

Another curious family resemblance over the years has been between our son, Sean, and Cora and Craig’s son, Cameron. We find this peculiar because the features which look similar are not features which can easily be identified as coming from mine and Cora’s side of the family. Even their temperaments and personalities are similar!

Fortunately, while Cassandra and Rebecca were here, there was an overlap of 5 days with Sean, and almost the whole visit with Michael. If I were to interpret what Sean and Michael experienced during their time with their “new cousin”, it was one of deep meaning. I could tell that there was an instant bond. This is partly due to the fact that both Cassandra and Rebecca are very open-hearted, sociable people who drew the boys out. However, even with that aside, they seemed to share a sense of family.

Much like Cassandra, when I was 21 years old, I travelled out from Ontario to BC and spent some time with my Auntie Winneth, Uncle Jim and family. I had spent relatively little time with them in my life being that I lived in Ontario and they lived in BC. However, I wanted to get to know them more, and they openly invited me into their home to stay with them for a couple of weeks. I remember looking at my aunt and seeing my mom, and feeling that instant family connection. Over the years, after Wayne and I moved to BC, we were able to visit with them many times during summer vacation. It was always great spending time with them and the family.

Recently, my Auntie Winneth passed away. She was diagnosed with cancer a couple of years ago, but refused to let it rob her of the life she had left to live. She spent every available moment enjoying her kids and her grandkids, and has left an indelible mark on their lives, and on the lives of everyone she touched, including mine. She was one of the most generous, giving and caring people I have ever met. She wouldn’t think twice about doing anything that needed to be done – especially for family. I remember her telling us something that her grandson Chris had said when he was fairly young. Chris, who was being raised by Auntie Winneth and Uncle Jim said, when he heard that our family was coming for a visit… “They’re family Ma…of course they can have my room” meaning, there’s just something special when family comes to visit … you let them do things like sleep in your room!

I wonder if this is something God-given - the ability to connect with someone who is a virtual stranger in a deep way simply because they are family? I was just reading this morning in the book of Hebrews about how we are Christ’s brothers and sisters, and that God is our Father. We share the same father as Jesus – we are family. And that is a special bond. Christ died for us because we are family. In the same way that we would do anything for our family – including dying for them – that is the way Christ feels about us. Even though I have never actually met Christ face to face, there is still a family bond – and one day, just like I was able to spend time with my Auntie Winneth and with my niece Cassandra, I will be able to spend time with my brother, Jesus, and my father, God. And when it happens I can imagine I will be saying things lie, “Ahh! I see the family resemblance! I see the soul of so-and-so in your eyes! And hey, I remember seeing your soul reflected in her eyes!” It will be the best family reunion ever!

Here in Kenya, family is everything. Without family you would be lost. Families are very close and support one another in every way. In fact, right now, as we speak, we have a “handyman” working in our yard with his three brothers. Because George has the resources to work, he gives his brothers the chance to work for him and earn a living too. I can hear them talking together - laughing and telling stories and out-doing one another with their ability to seize the conversation! It is very heart-warming to watch them. And it feels good to know that by hiring George we are helping to support his whole family. Not through hand-outs but through valuing their hard-work and skill.

And I hear Lucy, our housekeeper, in the other room, cleaning, and I think about how devoted she is to her family. I feel very fortunate to be able to support her with a job that she takes great pride in, and which helps to support not only her immediate family, but her extended family as well. Every day she thanks me for her job, and I thank her for her hard work – and we are both very happy!

The work that Wayne and I are doing is all about families. Families who scrape together everything they have to send their child to Seminary, so that their child will in turn be able to care for and support their family. It is about families who are living with HIV/AIDS yet who are managing through the love and support of others. It is about families living in slums in Nairobi who are waiting to be shown a little love and compassion from their neighbours, and from the local church, in order to provide for their families.

So even though we have lost family members to death, and lost children to maturity, we still have lots more family members with whom to share our love – even those we haven’t met – even here in Kenya.

“Keep on loving each other as brothers and sisters. ²Don’t forget to show hospitality to strangers, for some who have done this have entertained angels without realizing it! ³Remember those in prison, as if you were there yourself. Remember also those being mistreated, as if you felt their pain in your own bodies.”

Hebrews 13:1-3

Completely at Peace

Well it’s been 3 months since our last blog post. “How are you?”you ask? Well, let me tell you.

Because of our unplanned trip to Canada in January, Kyla and Sean decided not to go to school but to experience the culture in a more informal way, taking advantages of experiences as they presented themselves while living and visiting with their wonderful family. David had already decided not to go to school, and to have a sabbatical from his intense school/life schedule of Canada. So Jenny, instead of going to university with David, Sean, and Kyla, ended up going to school by herself while the rest (except Michael who continued to go to high school), enjoyed staying up late and sleeping in, painting, carving, reading, gardening, learning Icelandic, or whatever else tickled their fancy. In the words of my friend Laura-Lee, we ended up running a hippy commune.

But now, it is coming to an end. Kyla has returned to Canada, David returns next week, and Sean and Jenny will follow in May. I can’t believe it has been 4 months already. In May, our niece, Cassandra and her friend will be arriving, to spend a month with us and to work in an orphanage as volunteer teachers in training. So we will be back up to 5 young people, 2 parents, 2 dogs and 1 cat, until Sean leaves 5 days later, and Jenny 2 weeks after that. Are you keeping up with all of this? I know I’m not.

In the midst of all the family life going on, we have been working. Wayne has been teaching at the ACC&S Seminary, and I have been getting more involved in the workings of the Guardians of Hope program. In fact we just finished facilitating a conference in Mombasa, on the coast of Kenya. The conference went very well, and I learned a lot about the Kenyan way of doing things from our colleagues who helped to facilitate and/or participate in the conference. We also met with a couple of pastors in Mombasa who are starting up new churches. It was very interesting to hear how they operate, and how they interact with people. Because the culture is so people centred, they are able to go into a community, throw a ball in the air and within no time, a dozen or more kids start playing soccer with them….and in a short time they introduce the pastors to their families and the relationships develop.

While we were there we had the privilege of getting to know some of these families in their homes with the pastors, over tea. Even when it is 35 degrees Celsius with a humidity level of 100% and you are literally dripping with sweat more than you ever thought possible or polite – you must drink HOT tea – together. Despite the heat, the experiences were invaluable. I learned that Kenyan homes which we would consider in Canada, to be impoverished, are considered “middle class” here, and better than the conditions in which most Kenyans find themselves. Having been a public health nurse for years, and visited many homes of people who live below the poverty line – often in what we would consider deplorable conditions – I noticed many similarities in these Kenyan middle class homes - small apartments with just enough room in the living area for tightly arranged worn-out furniture, one or two bedrooms with just enough room for the bed or mattress on the floor, with a sheet as a door; a tiny kitchen with barely enough room to turn around; laundry hanging outside in the walkways connecting the apartments, so that everyone who walks past, rubs against the drying clothes; and the smell of garbage never far from the nose.

The difference is, in Kenya, these are the lucky people. The people who, as the pastor said, “have enough to manage”; who have a regular job; who have had the chance to get training and skills; who are able to see a doctor if necessary and buy the medication they need; who have enough money to put their kids inpublic school (to buy the uniform and other “necessary” items). These are the people whoother people depend on; who support other members of their family and community who aren’t so fortunate; who hire house-help in order to give them a job, because it is the right thing to do. And these are the people who feel good about themselves; who have pride in their lives, in their homes, and in their accomplishments. In fact, one family tried to insist that we all stay for dinner! And she had just had a baby two weeks before!

I am still not sure how to reconcile the difference in perspective and attitude of the people who, objectively speaking, have similar living conditions and yet have very different self-perceptions – and societal perceptions. And so it can’t be our living conditions alone that define poverty – it is our perception of ourselfthat does. So what does it mean to be poor? Is there an objective standard that we can use to define poor? I don’t think so. Kenyans who live with relatively little, can feel rich. And Canadians who live with relative wealth, can feel poor.

Do I feel poor? Not in the typical sense of the word, but I do feel sorry for myself sometimes. Is that feeling poor? Maybe it is. Poor me…I live far far away from my country…my friends, family and familiarity. Poor me…I have a houseful of kids and no place to sit! Poor me…I am going to have an empty nest. Poor me…my marriage is not perfect. Poor me…I don’t have enough money to vacation in Spain. And the list goes.

That is one amazing thing about Kenyans. I never hear people complain. I never hear the poor me attitude. In fact the answer to “how are you” is always, “mzuri sana” (very good!), or “salama kabisa” (completely at peace!)…and you know that these people have every reason to feel sorry for themselves. These are the people who are most likely living in far “poorer” conditions than the ones I mentioned. And yet we, who have soooo much, will answer “not too bad” or “hangin’ in there” or “over-worked and underpaid”. Why do we do that? Maybe it’s because we have a poverty of attitude – a lack of contentedness. We have forgotten how to appreciate what we do have, and not to dwell on what we don’t have. We could learn a lot from our Kenyan brothers and sisters.

Now that I think of it, I did a lot of complaining when I was in Mombasa, about the heat and humidity – in fact when people asked me “How are you?” I had the nerve to answer, “Kuna joto sana”…or “too hot!”, instead of answering “Salama kabisa….completely at peace, because I have had the chance to visit a beautiful place and meet amazing people”.

So how are you?

Legacy

It’s almost too amazing to describe all that has happened in the last month. We have travelled 30,000 kilometres – from one side of the planet to the other and back again. You see, on January 4th we found out that Wayne’s father had passed away at home in Prince George. The fact that we all knew his health was precarious did not fully prepare us for this. We were stunned – unable to process what had really just happened. For the next few days we were in a daze, thinking about Lance and all he meant to us and how much we would miss him – and about practical things like, would we be able to travel back for his memorial? It was clear that we did not have the money for the whole family and yet none of us could imagine not being there. It was Wayne’s mom who told us to go ahead and book the flights, and that somehow God would provide enough to cover the expense. And so, in faith, we booked 6 tickets.

Several days later we were on a plane heading to Canada… all together. Getting 6 seats together at such short notice on a route which involved 4 different planes on 2 different airlines was nothing short of a miracle. When we stepped off the plane in Prince George, 31 hours later, in our very non-wintery clothing, and crossed the open tarmac, we were greeted by the cool chill of a Prince George evening and a skiff of snow, happy that a cold snap of –25 C had broken that day, and that we only had to endure –5 C. We could see our friends and family through the glass, waving with excitement, and our exhaustion gave way to joy. But it was also at that moment that the loss of Wayne’s dad began to sink in. He was not there to greet us. Our first event without Lance.

We spent the next few days hanging out at “the parent’s place”, as one by one family members arrived, and by Friday everyone was present. It was wonderful being all together, although we were keenly aware of the one who was missing. It was interesting to me that we kept the television on playing Lance’s shows. You see, Lance’s favourite thing to do at home over the years, was to watch TV. We would often try to cajole him into turning it off to join in with the family antics, but he was quite happy to watch reruns of Hogan’s Heroes, Matlock, and Perry Mason with the buzz of life going on around him. Keeping his shows playing was a way, I think, of honouring him and letting him know we were missing him.

I think Lance’s affinity for watching television was due to the fact that their home over the years was like “Grand Central Station”. You see Lance and Pat had moved from Jamaica in their early years to come to Canada to attend university. They married in Ontario and later came out to Prince George, to pastor a tiny struggling church in northern BC. Pat told me how lonely and far away they felt in the beginning, but with God’s help they stayed and began to make a difference in their community, and to raise their family. Throughout the years they endlessly and selflessly poured into other peoples’ lives, both at church and at home. Lance and Pat had a way of making everyone feel like family….welcome to drop in, stay for a meal, chat or watch TV with Lance …anything they needed, any time. It was this kind of openness and love that caused so many people to get to know and love them over the years.

As a member of the Morgan family over the past 22 years, I have experienced their love and openness, and have also become accustomed to many large family and church gatherings with tonnes of people – and yet the funeral and the days surrounding it still astounded me. The number of people who attended the funeral both at the church, and at an extra satellite location, plus on-line streaming viewers, was amazing. And the cards, emails and messages are still coming – not only to Pat, but to all the members of the Morgan family. Pat’s phone literally didn’t stop ringing for a week straight, and there was always someone at the door.

The memorial service was on Saturday, January 19. We had not yet been back to our home church at this point, so walking into the sanctuary for the service was extremely emotional. Being surrounded by so many familiar and loving faces after being gone for a year was overwhelming. Standing up with the “kids” to honour Lance in front of this huge congregation was humbling – and seeing the next generation stand up and give their tribute was so moving. The way they have all grown into such wonderful young adults….made our hearts swell. And then, watching the men of the family, including the young men, carry Lance’s casket at the cemetery was deeply touching. They all said the casket was “a lot heavier” than they anticipated – which to me expressed the full life which Lance lived and the weightiness of his legacy.

At the reception which followed, we barely made it through the front door before we were showered with hugs, tears and greetings. The greetings continued later at the house, then after church the next day, throughout the week, and again the following Sunday. We received not just showers of love, but a downpour! We feel so loved, so overwhelmed, and so thankful for the support of so many wonderful people. Not only from Prince George, but from all over Canada, the States, and even from around the world, including our wonderful friends in Kenya.

The two weeks in Prince George was full and emotional – but we didn’t waste one opportunity to enjoy the snow, the cool brisk air, and, of course, the chance to sip a Tim Horton’s coffee while reconnecting with friends and family. We feel truly blessed by God to have had this chance to go back home and be together as a family and as a church – and I am sure that Lance is happy that he could be instrumental in orchestrating this wonderful and large gathering! He has been talking about his funeral for years now, musing about the large numbers of people who would be there to honour him, the “humble Jamaican pastor” (a term he often used to describe himself!)

We left Canada on January 28th warmed by the time we had been given to spend at home in PG, and arrived 27 hours later in Nairobi. As we stepped out of the airport, breathed in the warm moist air, smelled the scent of trees and flowers, we felt, once again, at home, excited about the year ahead and feeling privileged to be able to minister here in Kenya as we do our best to continue the legacy which has been handed to us by our forefathers.

“So let's not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don't give up.” Galatians 6:9

PS. As far as the expense of our trip went, donations flowed into the church to help cover our flights, and in less than two weeks every last cent was covered. Thank you to God, and to everyone who helped us – tumewashukuru – we are truly grateful.

"Just Breathe”

It’s hard to believe it’s now two days after Christmas, 2012. Our first Christmas in Kenya. The end of our first year. Truth be told, it has been a difficult last few months. Once the initial busyness of getting here, getting to know the place, settling in, and doing language school, subsided, the reality of all we have left behind became more difficult to supress. As we neared the Christmas season the longing for “that Christmas feeling” became stronger. For the first time I began to miss snow… and that cool bite in the air when you first walk outside… and the crunch of the snow beneath your feet. All of these usual signs of winter, and of the coming Christmas season were replaced by increasingly warmer weather, greener plants, and blossoming flowers. All of which were amazingly beautiful, but strangely incongruent with my emotional expectations of the season. I began to miss the layer of Christmas decorations …at home… at the mall…. making the world a warmer, magical place. Add to that, the fact that I began to realize just how much I was missing my family and friends. It is at Christmas that you gather with those you love to celebrate what you mean to one another. Not just on Christmas day, but during all of those little Christmas get togethers when you see friends and family and do little things like give gifts to tell one another how much you care. And I was missing my son - David, who turned 20 over the past year; who chose to stay in Canada, and who was thriving in his life back home. You would think that the knowledge that David and Kyla (our niece) were booked to come to Kenya in time for Christmas, would have been enough to buoy me up during this holiday season, but instead I found myself feeling as though I had been submersed in water over the past year, holding my breath, becoming increasingly aware that my breath was running out, feeling more and more desperate to break through the surface of the water which I could now see approaching, in order to gasp a breath of air. I began to wonder how I would last even one more second waiting for their arrival. And instead of reaching out to those around me, I withdrew to reserve what little air I had remaining – making the season that much more difficult.

And then the day arrived. David and Kyla were landing – at 7am. And so for the first time in my life, I got up enthusiastically at 4:30 in the morning in order to get to the airport by 6am before “rush hour” traffic began. This meant standing at the arrival gate for an hour and a half anxiously watching people come through the door one by one… not wanting to take my eye off the door, let alone go to the bathroom or get a coffee, just in case they were to be the next to emerge. And then, there they were…

Now, the airport has a system which allows passengers to exit from the arrival area comfortably, preventing family members from causing a traffic jam at the exit. It allows the passengers to walk from the door across a 10 square metre entrance way and out to the waiting crowds. I really did try to control myself – to honour this well-conceived system – but I just couldn’t. And neither could the rest of my family. In front of a hundred onlookers, and probably some armed guards – we ran and embraced David and Kyla. The hugs, the tears and the joy were flowing - and I was finally able to breathe. All was right with the world- our family was together.

Since they arrived, aside from a couple of trips to do some last minute shopping, for the most part we have all been very content just to be together. To talk, laugh, eat, play games, nap… and to just breathe. Life is good.

But what about when they leave? I have already started to grieve that day. In fact I started grieving even before they arrived! And they will be here for five whole months! And what about when Sean leaves to go to school in Iceland (his lifelong dream); or when Michael graduates from high school and returns to Canada to go to school? What then? Am I to be forever grieving the separation from my loved ones? To be holding my breath waiting for the next time we will all be together? Surely I am not the only one to have experienced this kind of separation, and I will not be the last. Surely the generations before me, including my parents, have gone through the same thing – and have somehow survived. It is the way of life, is it not?

And so there must be a way to do this and continue to breathe - to continue to inhale new breath; to engage with life in a new way; to draw in new experiences and new friends. A way to exhale the grief, the loss, the longing for what is not present, and to allow God and those who care about you to catch you when you do; to hug you when you cry; and to join you as you inhale life in a new way – as you learn to enjoy a green Christmas instead of dreaming of a white one – and to bask in the warmth of the sun and the love that surrounds you – instead of huddling in a cold corner protecting your air supply. And maybe - when you take a leap of faith and step out into the atmosphere you discover that you could have been breathing all along. You just didn’t know it.

Our first Christmas in Kenya - so different, and yet not so different. Being with family and friends – celebrating God’s love and loving one another. Of course, we still desperately miss the rest of our family and friends back in Canada – and we long for the day when we can ALL be together again. But for now, we are content just to enjoy what we do have – and to breathe.

“I’ve learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. I’m just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I’ve found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am.” Philippians 4: 11

Creatures of Habit

Well, here we are 9 months in, and the “furlow fat” plus the “cultural adaptation adipose” is finally letting go. What motivated this? Hmm…well I think I reached my limit of being comfortably chubby, when I was no longer comfortable. ..doing things like bending over…or reaching my feet to scrub off that Kenyan dirt that so quickly accumulates. I think what pushed me over the edge was Loralyn’s stay. As I have mentioned before…Loralyn is an amaaaaazing cook. Unfortunately the secret ingredient in Loralyn’s cooking is BUTTER. Yes, butter. Butter makes everything better. Forget that light mist of Pam in the pan before stir-frying, just plop a glob of good old butter in there and sauté those mushrooms and onions until they are mouth-wateringly wonderful. And so…after 4 weeks of that kind of cooking…I had had enough of my increasingly round self and decided to forego culinary euphoria, and convert to a low-calorie, boring diet. (The really baffling thing about Loralyn is that she is able to resist eating large amounts of her own cooking, and therefore able to maintain her slim physique…)

The other thing I started doing was swimming. Now this happened as a bit of a surprise to me, being that I had sworn off exercise a few years back. You see, every time I would start an exercise regime, I would think, “This is it! I am going to do this forever!” ..and so I would buy a gym membership. The result of which, was that I would stop going to the gym. Possibly because of all the aches and pains I would develop, but probably because I hate being told what to do-even if it is me doing the telling. I don’t want to have to do something. I want to want to do it. And so, I promised myself that I would never do that again. And yet, I find myself having recently bought a membership to a local pool.

How this came about was that I started going to a chiropractor/physiotherapist to get some of my hip/back/knee/joint problems sorted out. Well after a few sessions they concurred that I have a twisted pelvis, piriformis syndrome, IT band syndrome, rotator cuff syndrome and bad posture. They also agreed that the solution to all of my ills is to never cross my legs, stand up straight, roll out of bed, don’t stand up too fast, don’t sit on soft furniture, don’t sit on hard furniture, do all of my physio excercises every day for the rest of my life and TAKE UP SWIMMING!

Easy, right? NOT. Basically I have to change aaaaaall of my bad habits. And do they really think that I am going to take up swimming just because they tell me to? Don’t they realize how many monumental obstacles there are to doing this? First, I need to want to go swimming. (Not to mention they don’t even know if I am able to swim…which I am). Second, I need to be willing to expose a large portion of my body to the public.

Third, I need to be willing to make the time to go to the pool. And fourth, I need to find a pool!

Well for some reason I found myself checking out the pool situation in Nairobi. Turns out there are no public pools, and that swimming is for the rich. However, it turns out Michael’s school has a pool, and the whole family can get a membership for only $60 for 6 months. Ten bucks a month. Hard to argue with that. So the next thing I knew I was swim-suit clad, standing at the edge of the pool looking into the deep-end, trying to psyche myself up into jumping into an unheated outdoor pool in the middle of Kenyan winter. Getting out of public view as fast as humanly possible was motivation enough for me. And so…I took the plunge and have now worked my way up from 10 laps to 25 laps over the past 6 weeks..and am actually feeling pretty good. How long will this last?....Good question.

As far as changing all of my bad habits go…well of course as soon as I start feeling better I am going to stop doing my physio excercises …and how long can a woman really go without crossing her legs?? Habits are called habits because they are habitual. You know… “force of habit”. We can’t just change our habits on command. We are not computers that can be re-programmed…we are more like dogs who wag their tail when they are happy…growl when they are threatened…and lick their lips when they see a tasty morsel (like the family cat). We are creatures of habit.

Does that mean there is no hope for change? Are we stuck with our bad habits forever? Uh-oh. That can’t be right. People do change. People do develop good habits and get rid of bad ones. Otherwise civilization wouldn’t be civilized. We would still be doing barbaric things to one another. If there is no hope of change, why go to Africa as missionaries?...or do any other kind of humanitarian effort ? But of course people can change. Change just takes time and continued effort. Just like me and swimming, people need to want to make a change in their lives. They need to be willing to do what it takes to make those changes, even when it pushes them out of their comfort zone. And they need to have access to those things which make the change possible. We can’t just tell people they should do this or that – and we can’t make the change for them, because that will never last. So, yes, true change takes time and patience, with ourselves and with others. People like me, can take up swimming. And people in communities like the ones with which we are working can learn to farm differently; to earn money differently; to think of themselves differently; and to raise their kids with hope instead of despair.

So there is hope. Even for me. And even for you.

“…. if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come. “ 2 Corinthians 5:17

Your Kingdom Come

Even here in Kenya, September is the month when everything gets busy. I am sure many of you have just enjoyed a wonderful warm relaxing summer in Canada with record high temperatures, trips to the lake, and lots of time outside with family and friends. Maybe you even went camping. The rest of my household here misses camping – but I say, “we ARE camping!...I mean, think about it…we are surrounded by trees…we have a campfire in our backyard… plenty of bugs and wildlife… we rarely have electricity…we make coffee in a percolator.. and we have to do dishes by hand using boiled water! What more could you want? Alas, I digress. And now, you are in the September rush. Running around getting all of those things the kids need to head back to school…paper, pens, notebooks, clothes, backpacks, shoes, and new haircuts. And signing up for the extra-curricular activities which once again will require that you become a slave to your schedule, all in the name of having balanced lives. And even at work, all those things that were “put on hold” for the summer, have piled up and are ready to be dealt with. Ah, September.

Well, for us, September is turning out to be no less chaotic. I believe we have 6 conferences in September and October. It started this past week with a Peace and Reconciliation Training workshop put on by CBM. This was a 3 day event with over 30 church leaders from the three major denominations with which CBM works in eastern Africa – the African Christian Church and Schools, the Africa Brotherhood Church and the AEBR (translated into English as Associated Baptist Churches of Rwanda). It was very interesting listening to people discuss peace and reconciliation, as it applies to real life issues facing them now. Issues like racial, ethnic and religious differences which have led to violence, fear and mistrust. But these very same people, who have experienced these things first hand, are willing to stand in the gap to bridge the differences, to forgive and to embrace the other in the name of Christian love, acceptance and forgiveness. We were humbled to be in the midst of such an amazing group of people, and to learn alongside them.

Throughout the workshop I was thinking about the term building peace. Is it really possible to build peace? As though it were something concrete that you could wrap your hands around and with enough effort produce? To me, it seems more like peace is something organic that grows naturally if given the right conditions. Like plants, animals or people, who when provided with a conducive environment, will grow and flourish. If you are a plant, you need sun, water, food and nutrients. If you are a human or a puppy dog you need food, water, shelter, security and love. For peace to grow, I think a conducive environment includes respect – even when one’s ideas and beliefs are different - mutual trust, forgiveness of past hurts, balanced power, fairness and justice – enough food and money to go around, and equal opportunities for education and jobs. I think if a society were to work on these factors, that peace would be the result. And so with that in mind I started thinking about “community development”. Isn’t this what community development is all about? Gathering all the members of a community together to work towards the common goal of ensuring that everyone gets their needs met, regardless of ethnicity, religion, tribe or beliefs.

The problem is, you need to have a certain degree of peace before being able to start community development, even though community development in itself is a way to achieve and sustain peace. So in order to achieve peace, you need to have peace. Hmm…. And without peace there is disrespect, unforgiveness, mistrust and fear. This leads to conflict…conflict leads to war…war destroys communities…and decimated communities who have no desire to forgive their enemy, can’t move forward. The result is more of the same…fear, mistrust, tension and violence. Where does that leave a community?

The only way forward, it seems, is to break the cycle; for someone to begin to foster the conditions for peace; to forgive; to learn to respect the other; to be willing to trust and to start to heal, so that the seeds of peace can take root and grow. And I think, community development, literally and metaphorically, is the very means by which this can be achieved. The soil of respect for one another is tilled and fertilized; the springs of forgiveness of past hurts are discovered; and people begin to move out of the darkness of mistrust and fear into the light of hope and trust in the goodness of one’s neighbour. The result - more than just the physical well-being of a community grows - peace grows up with it… in it, around it and through it.

So peace is about not just the absence of war, but about “loving your neighbour….blessing those who curse you… considering others before yourself… doing unto others as you would have them do unto you….”

It’s exciting to think that the work that we are involved in is actually helping to bring about peace in this world. In fact, people used to ask me, “If you could have anything you want in the world, what would it be?” and I would say “World peace” (I know, I know, I sound like a Miss Universe contestant). But now I see that in a small way, I am involved in bringing about world peace….and likewise, so are you!

“Our Father, who is in Heaven…Your kingdom come, Your will be done here on Earth as it is in Heaven…” (from the Lord’s prayer, Matthew 6:9)

The Winter Months

We are now in the “winter” months of Kenya (July and August), and are forced to bear with severe temperatures like +16 degrees Celsius. (Do you feel sorry for us?) To be fair, the area that we were living in previously is significantly colder, around 10-12 degrees, which for people who have no indoor heating or shoes on their feet, is actually quite uncomfortable.

And the vegetation has gone from vibrant colours, to mostly just green – being that we still get rain from time to time. (Do you feel sad for us yet?). But just recently we have started to see signs of ..spring (?)…fall (?)…in that the flowers are starting to bloom, the days are warming up, and the sun is shining more. I actually hadn’t noticed the absence of colours until they started to return. And wow. They are spectacular.

We have been enjoying a visit by our friend Loralyn, Jenny’s mom. It is fun seeing “our” country through the eyes of a first time visitor. It is amazing how quickly (in the grand scheme of things) one adapts to one’s surroundings and how things start to become “normal”. So it is good, from time to time, to remember what is unique about the place in which one lives.

The same can be said for all of us, no matter where we live. For example, in Prince George, we may forget how unique it is to see moose, bear, and deer, so close to home. And that not everyone lives a stone’s throw away from a lake, or a forest. And that snow is weird and wonderful! Growing up in Toronto I became accustomed to the huge maples, and the rolling hills, and the stunning fall colours. And I am sure that no matter where you live in this great world, you are surrounded by beauty of some sort, which you are tempted to take for granted from time to time.

In fact, right now, as I am writing this, I am surrounded by an amazing amount of beauty. We have been blessed to live in a home with a beautiful yard surrounded by tall hedges, with half a dozen tall trees scattered throughout, home to an amazing variety of birds, and natural jungle gym for our cat! And our house is nicer than I could have ever imagined, even with its challenges. The fact that it is slated for demolition in a couple of years to make room for a nicer, bigger, more expensive home, meant that the landlord was willing to rent it to us at an affordable rate, with the understanding that we wouldn’t bother him to fix it up in any way. And so, we take care of our own maintenance, making it feel even more like our own place! And in the meantime, we are enjoying being able to live in such a beautiful place, (as long as we don’t look up and scrutinize the various mold/water stains on the ceiling or try to analyze what the white stuff is that is continuously growing out of the fire place and falling onto the mantel…or worry about the sagging ceiling which may or may not collapse at any time…).

Today Loralyn, Jenny, Wayne and Sean have gone on a day-long safari to Nairobi National Park to enjoy God’s amazing creatures, right on the outskirts of our fair city. Spurred on by the hope of seeing lions, cheetahs, zebras and other fine creatures, they woke themselves at the crack of crazy in order to arrive before sunrise. (Lions are nocturnal, you see.) Michael and I, on the other hand, were quite content to hear about their adventures and to look at the pictures after waking from a good night sleep. This is not to say that we don’t enjoy a good safari from time to time. In fact, just a week ago we participated in a day-trip to another national park called “Hell’s Gate”. We witnessed zebras, buffaloes, gazelles, elan, giraffe, and even a family of baboons. It was amazing, and well worth the nine hours we spent in the car. Today, however, I am very much enjoying my time spent on the couch, listening to the birds, catching up on work, and Michael is very much enjoying spending his time sleeping.

Since my last blog entry when I believed Sean had recovered completely from his illness, Sean has since had two recurrences. The last time was the day after Loralyn arrived, 3 days before his final exams. Much to Sean’s dismay he was admitted to hospital for further tests and treatment by a specialist who took one look at him and ordered an immediate CAT scan of his sinuses. I was skeptical at first, because he didn't seem to have any signs of sinus infection, but sure enough the CAT scan confirmed the doctor’s hunch and Sean was started on the correct treatment. 48 hours later he was discharged and feeling 100% better. It was such a relief to find out what the source of his illness was, and to know that it wasn’t a rare tropical disease we were dealing with. Thank God. And Sean was relieved that he was able to return to school to write his exams.

And I had an epiphany while Sean was in hospital. Are you ready for this? Sean is an adult. Yes, that’s right. He is 18 years old, and although I thought I knew that he was an adult, I was faced with the uncomfortable truth that when my “child” is sick, he is to me, just that – “MY CHILD”. I became aware of this when various health care professionals would enter the room and address Sean directly without going through me. They would say to him, “What seems to be the problem?”, and would proceed to talk to him about his condition, and the treatment plans, while I was forced to sit quietly and eavesdrop. I, of course, realize that they were treating him in a very professional and ethical manner, but what about the fact that Sean hates talking to health care professionals, and has no medical training and downplays all of his symptoms and really just wants to get out of there! What about the fact that I AM HIS MOTHER and that I AM A NURSE and that I HAVE BEEN SITTING HERE FOR HOURS GOING OVER EVERY DETAIL, EVERY SYMPTOM, EVERY TEST RESULT PREPARING TO TALK TO THE NEXT DOCTOR WHO WALKS THROUGH THE DOOR?? HOW CAN I JUST SIT IDLY BY AND HOPE THAT MY SON WILL SAY ALL THAT NEEDS TO BE SAID AND ASK ALL OF THE QUESTIONS THAT NEED TO BE ASKED AND REMEMBER ALL THAT NEEDS TO BE REMEMBERED??!!

Ok. I am being dramatic. Yes, most of the health care professionals did include me (usually only after I could no longer contain myself, and would interject). But the specialist came right out and said, “first I am going to talk to this bright young man, and then I will answer all of mom and dad’s questions”. And when I asked the nurse on the night shift if they had a cot I could sleep on, so that I could stay with Sean, she said, “how old is he?...18?...oh he is a big boy…he will be fine…you go home and sleep and he will call you tomorrow….visiting hours are 12- 1 and 4-8…” Of all the nerve! Telling ME when visiting hours are. You have got to be kidding. So I told them I would be back at 7am to be there when the doctor arrived. I wasn’t. I slept in. And he did see the doctor without me…and consented to a CAT scan without me, and he did get the proper diagnosis, and the correct treatment….all… without…me.

This whole parenting thing is tough. Just when you think you have become the kind of wise parent who lets their kids grow up and take responsibility for themselves, you are gobsmacked with the challenge of letting go of control WHEN THEY ARE SICK!. How unfair is that?! I guess it’s not just the kids who have to grow up, it’s the parents too. We have to learn to let go; to let the kids take responsibility for themselves – even for their own health; even when they doubt themselves; even when they don’t want to; even when their choices aren’t wise; even when they fail; even when they suffer as a result. Because it is their life to live – not ours. We each have one life to live – one life to learn – one life to make mistakes – one life to succeed - one life for which to take responsibility. And if we steal those opportunities from another, even when it is our own child, even when we mean well, even though it is because we love them - we rob them of their life. We rob them of becoming the amazing, capable and unique individuals that they are meant to be.

Sorry kids. Turns out I still have some growing up to do. 

So if you ask me how they are... and you will... here’s my answer...

My daughter Jenny says... “It’s school, mom, only in Africa.” ... sums it up pretty well really. Here are my friends, the Morgans, living life, going to school, writing reports, building friendships, navigating the culture and grocery stores, missing people, happy, frustrated, laughing, waiting in hospitals, looking forward to holidays ... life, only in Africa.

We’ve been following this Morgan blog, eager to hear any news of our daughter who is attending University and coming “home” on weekends. Maureen tells fascinating stories and Wayne takes great pictures but it really does take being here to get a feel for how ordinary and extraordinary this adventure is for them. God arranged this little trip for me to visit my daughter and spy out our CBM Partners in Mission, collecting information on how we can support them both in prayer and as their fan base in Canada. I’ve been here close to a week and happy to report that I find them well and adjusting courageously to the challenges of non-Canadian living. I’ve witnessed both Wayne and Maureen talking and understanding Kiswahili. I’ve sat in the passenger seat, totally entertained by Wayne’s enthusiastic driving and commentary.

Maureen and I baked bread together and we’ve sat around the fire in the back yard, an old favourite pastime. They seem themselves, leaning heavily on God for wisdom and patience, like they’ve learned to do in what is now evidently, a life of preparation for this assignment from God.

So, as you read this, pray with me for these ordinary and extraordinary Jesus followers. Among other things, I’m praying that they recognise God’s voice in the foreignness of this place, His hand in their details, His beauty in the exotic birdsong and His humour in how He chooses to grow them into the people ready and able to do the work He has for them each day.

While I’m here I’ll do my best to encourage them and remind them they have a whole a big bunch of friends and family standing behind them, cheering.

Home Sweet Home

Tomorrow is our 6 month anniversary of being in Kenya. Last time I journaled, we were still living at the language school. Since then, we have moved into Nairobi, although we are still attending language school up in Tigoni – a 30 min drive north up into “tea country”. But now, we are nearer to things like grocery stores and hospitals…and now, we have sidewalks that we could theoretically walk on…if we weren’t always driving. Oh – and now we have less bugs and critters to contend with – although we think we heard monkeys on the roof last night…either that or it was aliens!

Our moving experience was interesting. We started moving on June 15th, looking a little bit like the “Beverley Hillbillies” complete with all of our earthly belongings strapped to the roof of the Land Rover, and our kitten, Bilbo, curled up on the boxes in the back of the vehicle. Upon arrival at our new home, we introduced Bilbo to one of our newly acquired dogs, Lady. Lady had been living with the missionary family who had lived in the house previously, and who were now moving out of the country. They needed a home for Lady, and so we willingly agreed to keep her. Lady took the disappearance of her family, and the appearance of her new family, all in stride. In fact, she even took the arrival of the new and strange feline very well. Bilbo, on the other hand, was not so laid back.

Immediately Bilbo’s cat instincts kicked in - claws out, back arched, pupils dilated, hissing and growling, communicating something like, “Don’t mess with me you big ugly mutt…I may be small but I have centuries of instincts primed and ready to rip your drooling face off”. Bilbo won the showdown, as acknowledged by Lady who turned away in submission and now avoids Bilbo whenever possible.

Twenty-four hours later we picked up our second newly acquired dog, “Hubs”. Hubs is a very cute long-haired white dog who looks a lot like “Win Dixie”. Hubs’ belonged to another missionary family who were leaving the country and needed a home for their dog. Of course, it made perfect sense for us to take him in, as two dogs are better than one, and dogs are a great security system, right? Unfortunately for him, he had had an accident with some broken glass two weeks prior to his move into our home, and so was forced to wear a large red bucket on his head, to protect him from himself. In Kenya they don’t have the sleek and sporty “cone of shame” for dogs with injuries, and so they improvise using utility buckets. Crude…but effective.

Hubs, I think, is a dog-saint. He never once seemed to be bothered by this inconvenience even though every one of his senses was being challenged. When called, he had no way of identifying from where the sound was coming, and would routinely look the wrong way. His peripheral vision was non-existent, and so his self-protective ability to avoid cars was seriously reduced, as evidenced by the way he would clunk up against the car repeatedly, as we slowly made our way down the driveway. And to top it all off, his whole world had been turned upside down, as he too, experienced the unexplained exchange of his family and home. Nevertheless, he did not complain. In fact, a couple of times when we took the bucket off of his head, just to give him a good scratch, he made no complaint when it was replaced. He would just stand there patiently waiting for the bucket to be painstakingly returned to his head.

Hubs’ only flaw, it seems, is that he views Bilbo as a tasty morsel. When faced with Bilbo’s attempts to illicit fear and trembling, Hubs simply stands there, staring at Bilbo, eyes wide open, licking his lips and drooling. So far, there has been no direct contact between the two, and we are hoping they will reach an understanding - soon. We are getting tired of rescuing Bilbo off of the roof after being chased up there by Hubs.

A few days ago, after Hubs’ leg looked healed enough, we finally removed the bucket for good. Hubs appears to be enjoying the return of his senses, and the freedom to lick his privates. In terms of Lady and Hubs, they seem to be getting more comfortable with each other. There was never any tension between them…more of a shared tolerance of one another. But they now sleep beside one another…bark at the same things…and eat at the same time with no problem.

So the day after we “moved in”, and introduced the three animals, Sean woke up with a fever. I have been told that in Africa, if you get a fever, you take it seriously and see a doctor. And so, we heeded that advice, and took him in to the hospital pronto. By the time we got to the hospital his temperature had shot up to 40 C and he was dehydrated from vomiting. They responded immediately, with IV fluids, blood tests, and every other kind of test imaginable and determined within a few hours that no, it wasn’t malaria, but yes, it was a serious bacterial infection in the blood, and that he would need to be treated with IV antibiotics immediately. Instead of keeping him in hospital for the week, they advised us to take him home in between treatments.

No one can tell us how Sean contracted the bacteria…maybe something he ate…or drank…or even a small cut… and of course every doctor has their own opinion…and we had 5 different doctors….a different one every day. Fortunately, they were all good, and seemed to know their stuff. And we were fortunate enough to be able to go to a private hospital, unlike many Kenyans, who cannot afford it. And we were fortunate that Sean had health insurance through his school. We called his health card the “magic card” because instead of forking out cash every 10 minutes during the experience, we merely had to show the magic card. The weirdest thing about the experience was that prior to receiving any test or treatment, the accompanying family member is given a slip to take to the lab or the pharmacy to pick up and pay for the required test or medication.

The other weird thing was that the power goes out once or twice every couple of hours…for about 5 or 10 minutes until the generator kicks in – and no one seems to mind. It just made me wonder what would happen if a nurse or doctor were in the middle of some procedure, and were all of a sudden in the dark. Fortunately that did not happen to us..but I am sure it is not unheard of.

And so…we spent the first week in our new home going back and forth to the hospital, administering medication, intervening in the drama of our three pets, figuring out the water, sewer and electricity quirks of our new place, and somehow getting the house unpacked and settled. And in the midst of it all, Sean recovered. Thank you God.

The second week, fortunately, was dull in comparison.

The Birds and the Bees

“Let me tell you ‘bout the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees and the moon up above…..and a thing called love.”

Although I could be wrong, it feels like spring is here in Kenya. Even being halfway around the world and on the other side of the planet, where winter is summer and summer is winter and spring is rainy season and fall is rainy season too, there is a marked resemblance now, to spring in Canada. Everything is green, the birds are singing, and there are babies everywhere. Baby sheep, baby cows, baby cats, baby birds and baby humans.

I have been amazed by all of the ways that God’s creation takes care of its own. Take the birds for example. There has been a “bird couple” preparing their love-nest for their little ones, just outside our bedroom window. I started noticing lots of activity, with birds flying to and from our laundry line. Further investigation revealed that these birds were, in fact, flying down to the ground to collect a beak full of mud, returning to our laundry line to assess the security of the situation and to wipe their feet on my sheets, prior to taking their load to its’ intended destination, the construction site of their new home, in the corner of our balcony. This was repeated over and over, during the space of two weeks. The result was an amazing feet of engineering; a gravity defying mud condominium, complete with a tunnel entranceway to deter visitors. No blueprints, no engineering or construction consultants; just pure God-given instinct to direct this undertaking.

Another sign of new life arrived outside of the house a couple of weeks ago, in the form of an adorable, scrawny, grey kitten. She appeared to be aimlessly standing around hoping that food would suddenly appear. As we approached her, she showed no signs of wanting to escape. After she was passed around for cuddles it was clear she was very amenable to be loved and cared for. When we put out a dish of tuna (which we happened to have bought that day), and a bowl of milk (because that’s what people do in the movies), she ate and drank like she had never seen food before! We couldn’t very well send her back out to the wild to fend for her pathetic self, now could we? We named her Bilbo Baggins before actually knowing HER gender, but that is her name, for better or for worse. The nice thing is you can call her by many variations…Billy…Bo…BB…Billy Bo…Baggins…

We have had “Miss Bo” for 2 1/2 weeks now, and have literally watched her transform before our eyes. She now has soft silky fur and meat on her bones. And, the good news is, after she got some strength, turns out she has instincts to hunt, and has no qualms about hunting and killing lizards and MICE! We have observed her consuming these on a regular basis, with great amusement. She loves to catch a mouse and bring it in the house or school to eat safely in the corner. Fortunately, all of the teachers are equally amused by her, and love her dearly. And I now rest easier at night, in the knowledge that the rodent population is being reduced as we speak, and may even be relocating to a more feline free terrain. Thank you God!

As far as the human instinct to bear children, I am not sure that spring has brought more babies, because there never seems to be a shortage of babies being carried around on the backs of their mamas around here. But it has, at least, brought one more baby into the midst of the language school family. Our teacher Petero, and his wife Ruth, just had a baby. It seems to be the custom not to tell anyone that you are expecting a baby until it is impossible to deny. Being that we don’t see Petero’s wife at school, it was quite an honour that Petero told us that his wife was in fact due to give birth to their fourth child…any time! It was very exciting for us…every day we would ask him… “So..mtoto mpya?...new baby yet?” After several weeks of waiting, one evening we received a text from Petero asking us to pray, as they were on their way to the hospital. A couple of hours later we received another text with the announcement that their new baby boy had arrived safely into the world! Sounds easy right? Not necessarily.

Stella, another of our teachers, and good friend of Petero’s family, had accompanied them to the hospital, so I was able to grill her with questions about childbirth here in Kenya. I was reminded from her first-hand account about the monumental barriers to having a healthy baby. First of all, receiving healthy food and medical care during pregnancy is a challenge, due to costs, lack of transportation and lack of available resources. Then, when the time comes to deliver, many do not have a vehicle to drive to a hospital, and of course, there is no 9-1-1 ambulance to call. And even if a person were able to get to a hospital, they may not have funds to pay for hospital care. If some funds are available, a person may only be able to afford a hospital providing sub-standard care. And because you pay for each day of your hospital stay, people may hesitate to go to the hospital, not wanting to incur extra costs by getting there “too early”, and may leave too soon, for the same reason. Then, if extra care is required, like a C-section, costs can be prohibitive. If you can’t afford to get to the hospital, or to pay for the hospital, you give birth at home, and pray for the best. The result is that most women in the villages know what to do and are prepared. Like Stella, our teacher, who was ready on the way to the hospital, with all of the necessary supplies for an “uncomplicated” birth – something which she has had to help with many times before . She said that from a young age, girls are trained and prepared, in case they are the only ones around when a baby is born. Needless to say, we were very thankful that Petero and Ruth were able to get to a good hospital in time to deliver their healthy baby boy, Japheth. We were honoured to visit with Petero, Ruth and Japheth, when he was only two weeks old. He is a beautiful, healthy, strong, and very well-loved baby. Truly one of God’s most amazing miracles!

The children’s home which I have been visiting and making hats for, is called “Baba’s Nest”. A name which seems very a propos, as it is a place where children are cared for and protected, much like the nest I watched being built, by loving and caring bird parents. I have gotten to know some of the children and workers, and continue to be amazed at the resilience and stamina of people living under such difficult circumstances – children and adults alike. The love, commitment and tireless care for the children by the workers, is obvious. And the children, despite the circumstances of their lives, continue to have open and loving hearts. I am blessed and amazed every time I go.

What I find troubling, is the fact that the village in which Baba’s Nest is located, is a place full of people living in seemingly worse poverty than those in the orphanage, in the material sense. We drive past countless beautiful children on the way to the orphanage that smile, wave and shout “HOWAYOU!” over and over. It’s great fun to wave and shout back “GOOD! HOWAYOU!” However, these kids are often dressed in ragged clothes, with nothing on their feet, even in the rain and cold, and their play ground is the mud. The kids in the orphanage at least have clothes to wear, food to eat, and a playground in which to run around.

In fact, just yesterday, one of the younger workers at the orphanage shyly asked if I wouldn’t mind making her a hat. She said… “I think you have forgotten us…” I was humbled. I wonder how many of the workers and surrounding village members feel hurt or resentful of the attention given to the “orphans”, when they themselves have so little. It is no wonder that when local people ask me who the hats are for, and I tell them they are for an orphanage, their face reveals less positivity than I would have expected. It reminds me of Canada, when “underprivileged” groups seem to get “all the privileges”, and others feel forgotten and resentful. Yes, we want to see justice and fairness in our world, but when the pendulum seems to swing a little too far in one direction, the people at the other end feel left out. There is no easy solution though, is there? We do our best to seek fairness and justice in an imperfect world. Perhaps it is the seeking that is important. We won’t necessarily fix all of the problems, or make everyone happy, but we do our part to seek what is lost. To fix what is broken. To build what is destroyed. To seek life instead of death…mercy instead of judgement… justice instead of corruption.

I have now finished a hat for this worker, and will continue to make hats for other workers… now that, at least for the time being, every child at the Nest has a hat. Of course, there will always be a need for more, as new children arrive, and hats wear out. Five months ago I never would have thought it possible to make so many hats…93 and counting. The funny thing is, when you just focus on one stitch at a time, one hat at a time…. before you know it, you have accomplished more than you would have thought possible.

“He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.” Micah 6:8

Rainy Season

Praise God, the Rainy Season has arrived. The dusty, dry, brown landscape has become lush and green in the space of two weeks, as very large amounts of rain have poured down daily.

Rainy Season is considered here to be a great blessing. In fact, recently, while attending a rural funeral, we were ceremoniously given the names “Macharia” for Wayne (one who looks for good things everywhere), and “Nyambura” for me, which means “one who brings rain”. I, of course, take this in the manner that it was intended, as a great honour.

Fortunately, the rains held off during this “funeral day”, because the ground was loose, and the path to the burial site steep, as a very large number of community members, church officials, and coffin-bearers (all women I might add), made their way down the hill. Wayne and I were precariously perched on the edge of a drop-off as we tried to make room for the maneuvering of the coffin into the burial site. Everyone, it seemed, was very comfortable with these conditions, and fortunately all went well.

Although Rainy Season is a blessing, it is not without its’ challenges. For those with inadequate shelter, daily torrential downpours bring the challenges of staying warm, staying dry, coping with floods, washed out roads, and sickness. For those of us who are fortunate enough to have a roof overhead, and windows that close, the challenges are really only nuisances.

Like having the power go out at least twice a day for extended periods. Not a big deal, being that we have candles, and a gas stove on which to cook. It cuts down on the studying time, but at least we are getting to bed earlier. (It’s dark by 7pm every day, by the way).

And ants. Lots of tiny little ants getting into everything. Not necessarily part of the rainy season, but for some reason their number has increased over the last couple of weeks. Which just means we have to keep everything in the cupboards sealed tight. We learned this the hard way of course, when just after having feasted on some lovely homemade focaccia bread complete with olive oil and balsamic vinegar, we discovered the dead carcasses of hundreds of ants on our plates, disguised as bread crumbs. Apparently, they had decided to go for a swim in the bottle of dark vinegar which had been in the cupboard for some time. Ironically, Jenny had discovered an ant in her pasta only moments before, which she was unable to track down, amidst the spices. I said to her, “if it makes you feel any better, you have probably eaten ants before, without knowing it”….to which she replied “that doesn’t make me feel any better”. She was quite amused about the vinegar – because, as it turns out, she was the only one who had not had any.

And termites. Did you know that termites fly? And that they have a 2 ½ inch wing span? And that they come out in swarms? And that they lose their wings and crawl away? I am not sure which phase bothers me more…when they are erratically flying overhead, or when you see their disconnected wings all over the floor, knowing that they are crawling around somewhere underfoot.

A couple of weeks ago I bought some new candles. Nice candles. That very same night our power went out. It was kind of exciting at first, being able to light all of the candles and enjoy their warm glow. Well….a few minutes later unusual insects began flying around our living room. Termites, as we later discovered. And before we knew it they were everywhere. So we quickly retreated from the living room and hid in our bedrooms securing all of the possible cracks and crevices through which they might enter. About an hour later I ventured back out to the living room and discovered there were no more flying insects. However, my beautiful candles were now filled with dead termites floating in the hot wax. With mixed feelings towards my candles, I scooped out as many dead bugs as I could, but they have never been the same.

As we were battening down the hatches against termites and ants, we discovered signs of another type of creature. This one, a litter bigger. And a litter smarter. It was Sean who caught the first glimpse. He reported that “we have a little problem. There’s a mouse in the house”. The next day we bought a couple of traps. I think Wayne enjoyed trying to outsmart the rodent, carefully planning exactly where to put the traps and what to use as bait.

However, after several days of unsuccessful attempts to catch him, we had successfully fattened up our furry friend with lots of free bread, cheese and peanut butter, and provided him with the thrill of outsmarting the humans. Every morning we would hesitantly turn on the kitchen light hoping in part to find we had succeeded, but hoping just as much not to see our furry friend having met his demise.

Our friend is now gone, thanks to Petero, one of the teachers at the school who has experience in this area. I won’t tell you what he did, but suffice it to say, the mouse, who was actually a foot long rat, will not be bothering us anymore.

This, of course does not ensure we will not have more visitors. In fact, just yesterday, another furry friend looking for warmth and shelter interrupted our Swahili class by running under the door, into the class, and in my general direction. I now know why the stereotype exists of women who, when suddenly confronted with a wild rodent, leap onto furniture while simultaneously letting out an ear-piercing scream. It is actually an uncontrollable reflex one experiences in such situations, one which elicits great gales of laughter from onlookers.

And so, I am learning that although it is true that Rainy Season is a blessing, this does not mean it is free of challenges. It reminds me of a prayer I heard many years ago…

“Lord, grant me the patience to endure my blessings”.

P.S. April 26 – I believe I was visited by another furry friend last night…I can’t be sure because I didn’t actually see it, but I awoke at 5am this morning to the sensation of something walking in circles on my pillow just above my head. Wayne’s alarm was going off, (which never wakes me up), and I sensed the thing running off my pillow, and down to the floor, causing my waste basket to fall over in the process. By the time I sat up and focused, all I could see was the fallen waste basket. Wayne believed I was dreaming, but then found signs of rodent excrement downstairs in the kitchen once again. Furthermore, I had been woken earlier that night by the crashing down of a metal popcorn bowl which had been on Wayne’s bedside table. Coincidence? I don’t think so. Today, we are buying rat poison.

Cultural Adaption

It is now nearing the end of our third month in Kenya, as we make our way through the process of Cultural Adaptation. The three month point is supposed to be when the stage of Culture Shock really starts to set in. Up to now we have supposedly been in the Honeymoon stage, when everything just seems hunky-dory. Now we are supposed to start feeling confusion, anxiety, homesickness, anger, loneliness, and helplessness. In short - to get really sick of our new home and homesick to be back in our old home.

Having been warned about the 3 month mark, I have been vigilant in bracing for it. Now, it could be that to be forewarned is to be forearmed…or it could be that we have unwittingly gone through this over the past three months…or it could be that it is still to come…but regardless, we are feeling pretty good at the moment and not consciously experiencing these emotions. But I’ll keep you posted!

We just got back from a few days in Mombasa. Wayne and I went there with Aaron and Erica Kenny, and with the kids who were off on Spring Break. We went to help facilitate the ACC&S, GOH Leadership Conference and to be orientated to the people and the work with which we will likely be involved once we are finished language training. (Please check out the Kennys’ blog, as they have done a wonderful job on the highlights of the conference, and check out the CBM website for more info on the Guardians of Hope program).

Mombasa is right on the ocean, and so in and around the conference we were able to experience the beauty of palm trees, white sand, ocean waves, and warm, salty ocean air…not to mention a high degree of heat and humidity. I had forgotten what that kind of humidity feels like. Having grown up in Toronto, I should have remembered; that feeling of always being slightly damp and sticky, of being afraid to move because you might start to sweat even more, of being sapped of all energy. Needless to say, being able to jump in the ocean or the pool at the end of the day was such a relief that I failed to consider the consequences of exposure to the sun’s rays, so close to the equator – minus the protection of good ole sunscreen. As a result I came home sporting the worst sunburn I have had in 22 years. That was the year we got married and went to Florida for our honeymoon. We had terrible weather except for one day. The day we took a ship to the Bahamas. Well I was bound and determined to come back with a tan so I foolishly opted out of sunscreen and spent the day on the beach, frying my young skin. I was so burned and had such bad heat stroke that I was forced to lay in bed perfectly still for almost a week. I swore I would never be that foolish again…. but alas…. here I am having done it again 22 years later.

Michael spent lots of time in the water in order to keep cool while we were at the conference. This, unfortunately, gave him swimmer’s ear, which is a painful and nasty bacterial infection of the outer ear that you get from swimming in humid conditions. He had a similar infection when he was 5 years old, and is responding in much the same way as he did then. And Emma, one of the Kennys’ kids, actually got attacked by a jelly fish in the ocean which left nasty marks on her face. Poor kids.

Coming home to Nairobi and feeling the relative cool air, and the palpable lack of humidity was wonderful. Sometimes getting away for a while helps you to appreciate home even more. Here, at home, we don’t need air-conditioning. Here, at home, we aren’t going to get swimmer’s ear. Here, at home, we won’t get attacked by a jelly fish. Here, at home, we have learned to cope with the bugs (for the most part)…we are learning to cope with the traffic (sort of)…we are figuring out how to shop for and cook our food so it tastes somewhat normal. Yes this is truly becoming our home.

One thing about our home that we continue to struggle with is the pervasive poverty which exists all around us - something common to Nairobi and Mombasa, and so much of Kenya. We are learning how to live in spite of the confusion, anger, and the feelings of helplessness. We are learning how to best use the resources with which we have been entrusted, in order to make a difference in the best way we know how. Through your help, and God’s guidance, we have had the opportunity to help individuals and families with school fees, to provide funds for feeding programs, to provide warm hats for orphans, and to slowly but surely learn what we need to know in order to be a part of long-term sustainable solutions through our work with CBM and its partners here in Kenya. These things keep us motivated to continue moving forward and to adapt to this new and wonderful culture.

Swahili word for the day: cultural adaptation = kitamaduni kukabiliana na hali

55 Days of Sunshine

Today marks the end of 55 days of sunshine, the end of our 2nd month in Kenya, and the completion of our 2nd Swahili test. The first test that we wrote a few weeks back went well. The teachers told us it would be easy. Which it was. They did not, however, say that about the test we wrote today. And it wasn’t. It took us over 2 ½ hours to complete, resulting in some pretty tight neck muscles. I do think our Swahili has improved as a result of the intense studying we have had to do, and the 100 word essay we had to compose during the exam. Would you like to read it? I didn’t think so. Anyway, we can now carry on somewhat of a conversation in Swahili with our classmates and teachers at chai time with just a little help from charades. However, just to keep us challenged, the school holds a little devotional time every Monday morning, when the teachers lead us in Swahili songs, Swahili prayer, and a short Swahili sermon. For the first few weeks we understood absolutely nothing. Now we understand next to nothing, which is an improvement. You see, during regular class, the teachers talk very slowly using only words that we have learned, or are about to learn – and even then, we are challenged – but during the devotional time they speak a completely different Swahili. The fast version. With no translation. We do catch the odd word like “katika”, because they use that word a lot. However, I still don’t really know the exact meaning of the word. I’ve been told it can mean in, at, from, to, with, for, into or out of. This is not to be confused with the word “kwa” which can also mean in, at, from, to, with, for, into, and out of. And “kwa” is NOT always interchangeable with “katika”….???? So, my general method of figuring out which word to use is: to guess. A lot. I have discovered that if I say “katika”, the correct word is, in fact, “kwa”, and that if I use the word “kwa”, the correct word is in fact “katika”. One day I am going to outsmart the system and get it right.

Since the last journal entry, driving has gotten a little easier, to the point where I have actually gotten up the nerve to drive. From Nairobi to our home – about a 30 minute drive. I was honked at only once, and didn’t hit anything or anybody. I would call that a success. I have to admit…I drove primarily as a response to heavy peer pressure, but I can now say I am glad that I did it. It was almost better than being in the passenger seat – a statement which I believe Wayne would now agree with! I think he ended up more exhausted from that trip than he usually does, and with a bloody tongue to boot (and not from my bouncing into potholes). Despite it all, he did manage to tell me I “did good”.

Since arriving in Kenya we have had nothing but blue skies and sunshine – 55 days straight in fact. A nice treat considering the fact that it was the dead of winter when we left Prince George – and it still is, I here. However, thankfully, it has begun to rain. In Prince George that would not necessarily be something to celebrate (at least in the summer). But here, it is - especially when your existence depends on it. But, Mungu asifiwe, it is now raining, and things are starting to green up again.

As I mentioned previously, I have been crocheting as a way of distracting myself from terrifying driving conditions. This has resulted in the production of 28 baby caps to date. At the 22 mark we delivered them to an orphanage nearby. Jenny and I went together and spent some time helping to hold and feed babies. It was very heartbreaking seeing how many children are without homes. The baby I was holding appeared to be about 3 months old, but as I later found out, was actually over one year. She would not make eye contact with me, and did not smile the whole time. She did reach up and gently touch my face and earrings. She took a sizeable bowl of porridge over a long period of time, as she is not yet able to chew. She and her sister had been found severely malnourished two months previous, and brought to the orphanage. Jenny was holding a healthy happy looking 6 month old, full of smiles and energy. She had recently been brought to the orphanage but had been well cared for. After holding these babies for two hours it was hard for us to say goodbye, especially knowing how stretched the caregivers are to give each child attention. Even so, they do an amazing job, caring for multiple children at one time. On the weekends the staffing level is even lower so the orphanage actually fosters babies out, just for the weekend, to willing families. It is tempting to help out. I know Jenny would like us to have a baby for the weekend. We’ll see… Hopefully the work that we will be doing in community development will prevent this type of situation from happening to many other families.

We attended a great church just around the corner from the orphanage last Sunday. It is made up of primarily Kenyan people, and the music and teaching was phenomenal. The church is involved in quite a few community help projects, such as feeding programs, student mentoring, and medical camps. We are looking forward to continuing to attend the church and hopefully get involved.

Well, it is now time to go to bed ….which could be translated as:

Wakati wa kwenda katika kitanda…or…

Wakati wa kwenda kwa kitanda…or…

Wakati wa kitanda…or…

none of the above.

Lala salama. (Good night.)

Morgans in Kenya - 2013

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Monday, 17 June 2013

It’s All About Family

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Well Into The Second Year

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