Four of us woke early to watch the sunrise over Africa.

Roosters crowed and birds chirped in harmony. Kenyans chanted and drummed from a distance in the wake of a funeral. Randy proclaimed quietly and assuredly, “The sun rises every day, but today we watched it.”

It was a crazy busy day by American standards. From morning till night, we worked, prayed, worshiped and fellowshipped with Kenyans. It was so, so good.

After a breakfast of homemade African pancakes at Kehfa’s house, our team made our way back to Pride Rock for worship. We sang, did devotions, and prayed over three team members who were sensing specific need for support.

Then it was time for our first round of listening prayer. What’s listening prayer, you ask? We sat quietly, reflecting, praying, waiting and listening for God to reveal something to each one of us in His still small voice. Then we collectively gathered the words and images that came to our mind during prayer. The goal? To determine HOW we were going to spend our morning.

Randy jotted our collective words and images on notebook paper…white, boy in a blue shirt, rolling ball, children, dorm done, Juma new shoes, boy down a hill playing ball, wind coming in, washing feet, down, into the village.

Ultimately, eight from the group felt led to play and engage with children at the orphanage. Children arrived in three waves. They played soccer, both casually and competitively. They played frisbee, red rover, held babies, took walks together, and braided hair. It was a fabulous opportunity to release tension and really get to know the children at the orphanage.

Nate and I prayed further and felt called to leave the orphanage and go DOWN INTO THE VILLAGE. John, a pastor and staff member at Shangilia Orphanage, joined us to translate. On our walk down into the village, we found Francis (a man wearing WHITE) and Shadrach, cousins who are providing each other company in hard times. Francis has been orphaned for nearly 25 years. He is building a house, but has no job and no finances to finish, and doing all the work by himself makes the task even more daunting. Shadrach’s left eye and left ear don’t function at all, so he makes do with his right ear and right eye. He went to the doctor in Nairobi and was referred to an eye hospital, but doesn’t have finances to follow-up with care. We prayed for Francis and Shadrach and made our way further DOWN the valley. We came upon a group of three homes nestled in the deep. I engaged with and had fun photographing the large group of children outside the homes. Inside, we found Beatrice, a 78-year-old woman whose Bible was worn and torn from years of use. Her husband died years ago; two of seven of her children passed away far too young. “God loves me,” she said, as she showed us her Bible. After praying for Beatrice, we went next door to visit her son, Salamba, who has been ill, out of work for a month and unable to walk due to a significant wound on his foot. He showed us his foot, wide open, right there on the table. It was deep, large, an obviously infected wound in need of care. We prayed for Salamba, for healing, for wisdom, for clarity amidst his significant confusion about what to do. We left reluctantly, feeling clear that this man needs medical attention as soon as possible. We knew the rest of the group must know about Salamba’s situation.

Nate, John and I returned, meeting the group for a lunch of noodles, beef, and cabbage and Kehfa’s house.

After lunch, we made our way back to the new boys’ dorm to begin planning an afternoon of Vacation Bible School with the children. It rained. There were some delays. Kenyan staff delivered mattresses, blankets, sheets, pillows and furniture that had purchased for the new boys’ dorm scheduled to open tomorrow. Quite a bit of VERY EXCITING work had to be done to get the dorm supplies in place before we could begin engaging with the children. But it was all good. Oh so good. We made a dorm full of beds. The girls from the orphanage came in to sweep and wash floors. After all that, we divided into small groups and did Vacation Bible School. It was a hit, a huge success. The children loved it and were fully engaged in each station we set up. The rain subsided for the most part. It was good. Oh so good.

New furniture displaced supplies of clothing, shoes, socks, underwear, toys and school supplies we’d laid out in the new boys’ dorm living area. So our team decided it was a perfect time to distribute the underwear and socks to the children.

First, we brought out the girls socks and underwear. All the girls from the orphanage gathered and got in two lines – big girls and little girls. Three from our team and two Kenyan staff divided supplies accordingly, then we distributed socks and underwear to the children, one by one. The children came humbly, waited patiently, and were so grateful – for socks and underwear. I thought of all of you, those of you who so generously donated socks and underwear for the children. If only you could be here now. You would know how much your gifts were and are appreciated. After girls’ distribution, we moved to boys. Dark was closing in, so team members had to break out flashlights so we could see. Yes, it was amazing, absolutely incredible. One of my favorite parts of the day. God is working here.

Our evening ended with dinner of potatoes, cabbage and ground beef at Kehfa’s house followed by a team debriefing and planning for tomorrow. Half of us stayed up extra late working a few more hours in the boys’ dorm, making last-minute preparations for tomorrow’s dedication and opening of the dorm.

For the second time this day, I felt like a mama preparing rooms for her children. These orphans are not our biological children, but they are our children. We have the great privilege and responsibility of caring for them and loving on them while we’re here. May our work be pleasing to God and pleasing to the children. May they feel our love and care with each hug and tuck of a blanket.

Tomorrow is a big day. The new boys’ dorm will open. We will dedicate the building and the children will move in. It will be glorious. Wonderful. God breathed. God ordained. God given. Thank you for this day. And tomorrow, too.

Amy & Team

This blog post is part of a series I’m writing about my journey to Kenya, Africa, with the nonprofit organization, Love for Kenya, in the fall of 2015. Click here and you’ll be directed to the landing page where you can read ALL the posts from the series. If you haven’t already, read the post I wrote when I announced the trip. Otherwise, scroll to the bottom and you’ll find ALL the Kenya posts listed and linked for your reading enjoyment. Thanks for joining the journey, friends.

It took us four flights and nearly two days to get to our final destination in Kenya, Africa.

Minneapolis to Chicago.

Chicago to Frankfurt, Germany.

Frankfurt to Nairobi, Kenya.

Then a brief overnight stay in Nairobi followed by another flight and an hour-long drive to our final destination, Love for Kenya’s Shangilia Orphanage.

As our final flight landed, the attendant announced, ”We wish you a very good morning and have a blessed Sunday.” Anna and I looked at each other and simultaneously noted the wish for a “BLESSED Sunday.”

No doubt, we’ve already experienced ups and downs on this trip. A lost piece of luggage. Another piece of luggage left at the airport. A team member who became notably lightheaded at the airport in Nairobi and required attention to stabilize.

But all in all, the day and journey has been blessed, indeed.

Five Kenyans greeted us at the airport. Our team of 10, along with the five Kenyans, loaded our bags into three vehicles.

On the way to Shangilia Orphanage, we took in the sights and sounds of Kenya, asking the driver, Richard, a hundred questions about this and that.

Street kids picked through garbage on the side of the road.

The occasional grand estate for those who don’t care to live in the heart of the city.

Men sitting by trees and perched on half-built buildings.

Abandoned gas stations.

Discarded sugar cane littering the streets.

Cars stopped waiting for cows to cross the road.

A quick stop at the equator, even though the sign marking the landmark was removed long ago.

I put my hand out the open window and let it catch the wind as we drove down the bumpy, rocky, red dirt roads. There’s a unique freedom felt here in Kenya. It looks different from our American freedom, but nonetheless, it’s freedom.

Finally we arrived at our final destination, Shangilia Orphanage.

We heard the kids before we saw them.

There they were. The most adorable group of kids and staff huddled together, greeting us in song. We got out of our vehicles and listened to the sweet, sweet song accompanied by clapping, clapping and more clapping.

We were moved. Me, nearly to tears a few times. I looked across the way and saw the team wearing big smiles and others in near tears, too.

THIS is why we came all the way to Kenya, Africa. THIS is why we traveled down long, bumpy, red, rocky dirt roads to Shangilia Orphanage. To visit the sweet orphans, the sweet children of God, and let them know they are loved to the ends of the earth.

The sense of unity was most definitely felt. We are one. We are human. We are God’s children. We are here – together, in this place, on this earth – for a reason.

The sweet, sweet song ended. We made introductions, unloaded luggage from the three vehicles and brought it to the huts we’ll call home for the week. We got settled a bit, then acclimated to our new surroundings.

Our team toured the old boys’ dorm and new boys’ dorm that will open this week if all goes well. We toured the property, including the bathrooms, old homestead, soccer court, girls’ dorm, cooking building, and living area. Near the girls’ dorm, children were actively engaged in making chipottee for tonight’s dinner. Randy even tried his hand at making a few. No doubt, rolling the dough was harder than it looked. But these kids clearly had plenty of practice. Staff made it clear. They’re working hard to teach the children skills they’ll need for life. They’re certainly doing their job. The kids were hard at work patting, rolling, and frying the dough one after the other, after the other.

Our day ended with dinner at the former orphanage director’s house, followed by a team meeting, planning for tomorrow, and an early bedtime for most.

Goodnight, friends. Goodnight from Kenya. Tomorrow will be our first full day here at the orphanage. Tomorrow, we pray God’s will be done.

Amy & Team

This blog post is part of a series I’m writing about my journey to Kenya, Africa, with the nonprofit organization, Love for Kenya, in the fall of 2015. Click here and you’ll be directed to the landing page where you can read ALL the posts from the series. If you haven’t already, read the post I wrote when I announced the trip. Otherwise, scroll to the bottom and you’ll find ALL the Kenya posts listed and linked for your reading enjoyment. Thanks for joining the journey, friends.

Hello, friends! Happy Thanksgiving!

It’s hard to believe, but only one more day and we’ll be on our way to Kenya, Africa, for our mission trip.

Our team consists of 10. Randy. Another Randy. Nate. Anna. Matt. Maggie. Paul. Jamie. Lacey. And me, Amy.

It’s fascinating, really. God called each one of us, uniquely, to go on this trip to Kenya. He brought us together – at this exact point in history, His Story – to form a team.

Our mission? To share the love of our Heavenly Father. To share the love and sweet promises of Jesus. To LOVE Kenyans.

Friday morning, we’ll meet at the airport and make our way to Kenya, Africa, on a series of flights. We’d appreciate prayers for smooth and safe flights, for quick clearance through customs, and for ALL 10 of us and our 20, 50-pound duffle bags to arrive safely in Nairobi, Kenya.

Kenya is NINE hours AHEAD of our home state of Minnesota, so by the time we arrive at our final destination, it’ll be early Sunday morning in Kenya!

Our trip is 10 days long.

While we’re in Africa, we’ll be partnering with a nonprofit organization called Love For Kenya. Our team will be engaging extensively with orphans, widows, staff and local villagers. We’ll spend a lot of time at the orphanage with the children, but will also be spending a fair amount of time in the community building relationships, meeting peoples’ needs, sharing our faith, praying for people, and doing work projects and large-scale outreach projects as we feel led. Personally, I’m really looking forward to a whole day we’ll spend with a group of widows who are considered outcasts, scums of the earth, in Africa. Before we leave, our team will be taking a safari and will also be spending a short time at the Kibera Slums in Nairobi, the largest urban slum in Africa.

Our team leader, Randy, told us that this mission trip will be incredibly RELATIONAL.

We’re as prepared as we can be, friends.

We’re fully funded. (Thank you, thank you, kind and generous supporters!)

We’ve met several times for training and preparations.

We’ve gotten all the recommended vaccinations.

We’ve gathered supplies.

We’ve packed our bags.

We’ve prayed.

And we’ve prepared our hearts.

We’re nearly on our way. One more day.

Kenya here we come.

May God bless us and go before us.

Thank you, friends, for joining our journey. It’s an honor to have you follow along. Thank you in advance for your prayers and support from a distance.

Amy & Team

This blog post is part of a series I’m writing about my journey to Kenya, Africa, with the nonprofit organization, Love for Kenya, in the fall of 2015. Click here and you’ll be directed to the landing page where you can read ALL the posts from the series. If you haven’t already, read the post I wrote when I announced the trip. Otherwise, scroll to the bottom and you’ll find ALL the Kenya posts listed and linked for your reading enjoyment. Thanks for joining the journey, friends.

I never, ever planned to go to Africa in the fall of 2015.

In 2023 for our 25th wedding anniversary? Yes.

In 2041 for an awesome opportunity to write and photograph on behalf of a nonprofit doing outstanding work with the least of these? Yes. Awesome. I’ll be more than ready for that.

But 2015?

Never. Ever.

Not yet.

Give me at least a couple years, okay God? Umm…I didn’t plan on this now. At all. Can I just have some time to save? Can I just have some time to plan? Can I just have some time to let my kids get older and my husband get used to the idea of me flying off to Africa? Can I just have some time to get ready for whatever it is I think I need to be “prepared” for a trip to Africa?

I was invited to travel to Africa on June 1st.

I gave a firm NO to the trip on July 7th.

Then I gave a firm YES on August 29th.

One week from today, I’ll be on the plane to Africa.

Unbelievable.

This mission trip to Africa was a weird mix of God’s call vs. the enemy’s attack from day one. I spent most of the summer of 2015 feeling God’s strong and unexpected call to GO to Africa. But I also spent much of the summer of 2015 feeling the enemy’s attack, the enemy’s every scheme and plan to make this thing fail.

It was brutal at times.

Spirit crushing.

Humbling.

Life changing.

Inspiring and heartwarming, too.

As I stated in my intro post two months ago, I fully intend to guard and keep those three months close to my heart.

Sure, I didn’t plan to go to Africa this fall. Not at all.

But this trip is no mistake.

My saying NO, then YES is no mistake.

Make no mistake, I’ve been on the battlegrounds, the battlegrounds of good vs. evil, of God’s calling vs. the enemy’s plans to kill and destroy.

After I said YES to the Africa mission trip on August 29th and then made the news public on my blog a few weeks later, the attack subsided. Notably. The response from family, friends, blog readers and fellow writers was amazing. My in-laws agreed to help with child care. The remaining balance of my Africa trip was miraculously paid in full by generous and kind friends, family, blog readers, and two photography clients who gave me “extra” to go towards my Africa trip. I put out a call for supply donations on Facebook, and special friends responded with crazy generous and abundant donations of socks, underwear, clothing, shoes and kid movies. Last Sunday, our team gathered and had more than enough supplies to fill 10, 50-pound duffle bags for Africa. And yes, there will be 10 MORE 50-pound duffle bags filled by the time we leave next week.

God has provided.

God has flung open doors.

God has confirmed – abundantly, excessively, faithfully, clearly – that He wants me to go on this mission trip to Africa.

I thought the attacks were done.

Everything was going smoothly.

All the doors were wide open.

God’s provision for this trip has been ridiculously good. Up until today, the title of this post was going to be simply that – Ridiculous Provision.

But today, one week from our team’s departure for Africa, I’m feeling attacks come on again. The enemy of my soul would rather I quit, drop out, say “sorry, I’m not going anymore, this isn’t going to work.”

Last night, I had a dream (or should I say, nightmare) that five armed gunmen entered our home and were going to kill us. In the end, all I could do was beg them to spare our lives with “Please don’t kill me, I’m a mom.” And “Please don’t kill her, she’s my little girl.” I cowered and begged these things while guns were pointing at me. Then I woke up and let a few silent tears fall before moving on with the rest of my day as usual.

Two hours later, I found myself at Kohl’s department store after my morning workout. I wanted to look through final clearance racks to see if I could find ONE MORE long skirt or long dress, and ONE MORE lightweight wrap or short-sleeve cardigan for Africa. I’ve known I’ve needed at least ONE MORE outfit to bring, and the items had been on my to-do list for more than a month. So I got my three-year-old daughter a cart, and headed straight for the junior 80% clearance racks in search of $5-$10 bargains on Africa wear.

I found a white wrap with orange details on super clearance. Seriously perfect and lightweight for wearing over any dress or long skirt. Hung it over our cart. Found another loose 3/4 length shirt also perfect for wearing over any dress or long skirt. Was just beginning to look through the racks for a long skirt or long dress.

My daughter was behaving incredibly well, but wanted to get out of the cart. That was fine, but I knew she needed to stay close. I was talking to her often, and monitoring where she was and what she was doing. She was looking at some flannel shirts to one side of me, and I was looking at the clearance rack on the other side. I’d JUST seen her. She was JUST touching that flannel shirt. I JUST told her to “Stay right by me, okay?” And she even responded, “Okay.”

As I lifted a long black and white dress off the rack, something told me I needed to look back at my daughter again, even though she had LITERALLY just said “okay” to my direction to “stay right by me.”

My intuition was right. She was GONE. GONE!

I couldn’t find her!

My instinct told me to get down on the floor and search for her feet, for her little pink crocs, as I know she has historically attempted to hide in department store racks and thinks it’s so funny.

I expected to see her crocs in the clearance rack I’d been searching.

But I didn’t see her crocs anywhere. I stayed down on the floor and crawled, searching everywhere in the immediate area for her crocs, for my Maisie. I started calling her name, “Maisie.” “Maisie. “Maisie.” “Maisie.”

No answer.

No crocs.

No sign of little feet anywhere.

No response to her name. At all.

No Maisie anywhere!

I ran over to the cashier. Thankfully, I was close. I told the first cashier I found…”My daughter is missing. I can’t find her anywhere. Please put a code up for a lost child immediately.”

The elderly woman in line heard me. In my peripheral vision, I saw her panic and stare as I ran back to where Maisie was supposed to be.

I returned and resumed calling and searching, louder and louder.

“Maisie.”

“Maisie.”

“Maisie!”

“Maisie!!”

“Maisie!!!”

I heard “Code Adam” called on Kohl’s intercom. More than once. Everybody was staring my way. I was frantic, running around, calling her name louder and louder “Maisie, Maisie, Maisie!” I was ducking up and down, looking for those crocs, looking for her puffy little leopard coat. I didn’t care what anyone thought. I didn’t care AT ALL. My baby was missing and nobody had found her. I was crying. I had lost it and I was out of control. An employee asked me what she was wearing, how old she was. I could barely find the words, I could barely utter the words. I answered as quick as I could and kept searching. “Maisie!” “Maisie!” “Maisie!”

I was crazy loud. Loud. Louder. Even louder.

All worries about anyone else or what they thought or how crazy I was were GONE. Out the door. I needed to find my baby. And all I could think of were those evil gunmen I’d dreamed of last night, those evil gunmen ready to come and snag my baby from me in the ONE SECOND I wasn’t looking, the ONE SECOND I wasn’t fully on guard.

I was freaking out.

Crying.

Yelling.

“Maisie!!!!”

“Maisie!!!!!!!!!”

“Maisie!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Going in circles. Up and down. All around. Everywhere. Everyone was staring. Employees were running all around. Cautiously panicked on my behalf.

Then I heard her in the flurry and scurry, the woman who said “Wait, I think we found her! What kind of coat does she have? What color hair?”

The woman who alerted me was around the corner, so I left my panicked post. Another woman was tending my baby, walking her towards me, down Kohl’s way. There she was. My Maisie in her leopard coat.

I ran. I picked her up. I hugged her. I cried hard. Uncontrollably. Unabashedly.

And we left the store immediately. Without any clearance clothes for Africa.

I was shaking. Crying.

I asked my baby where she went, why she left.

“I wanted to see other people, I wanted to say hi.”

All of this because she wanted to say “hi?” And I’d JUST seen her and JUST told her to stay really close to me. And she’d JUST said “okay.”

I headed straight to the car. Opened the door. And put my baby in her carseat. I was still crying notably and an African American woman wearing a pure white winter coat happened to be getting out of her car next to us. She asked if I was okay. “Actually, I just lost her in Kohl’s. They had to call Code Adam, so I’m still recovering,” I said.

She gave me a hug.

“I’m glad she’s safe, sweetheart. Jesus is good. Jesus is good.”

I felt attacked. Big time. Twice in one day.

Yet, oddly enough, I also felt incredibly protected.

Through the crazy and ridiculously scary momentary loss of my daughter in Kohl’s, I learned what it REALLY means to be CALLED.

God’s call is NOT something to be ignored.

He will go out of His way.

He will yell and search and gently “scream” until we listen, until we hear, until we FIND Him, land safely in His arms and follow His way, His plan for our lives.

This is not a joke.

This is not mystical.

This is not crazy talk.

It’s real.

God’s call is real and live and active.

He is CALLING each one of us. Now. Today. Somewhere. Somehow. Uniquely.

I’m telling you, friends. Today, I learned – in the most horrible of circumstances – that God is serious about His call. He is serious about His children STAYING with Him, FOLLOWING Him, and LISTENING to Him. That includes you and me, friends. We’re children of God. Don’t stray. Don’t go your own way. Don’t look left and right, worrying about “saying hi” to this person and that, doing this thing and that thing. Stick with your father, your Heavenly Father. He knows best. He IS the Way.

All of this to say, I’m going to Africa.

I’ve been called.

There’s been a battle. Oh, most definitely.

But I’m not about to turn left or right or divert any which way.

This is a matter of obedience.

Pure obedience.

I don’t know what God’s got up His sleeve for me and Africa, but I’m going to trust. I’m going to follow. I’m going to believe. I’m just going. Because He says GO. NOW. “Stay right by me.”

 

 

 

This blog post is part of a series I’m writing about my journey to Kenya, Africa, with the nonprofit organization, Love for Kenya, in the fall of 2015. Click here and you’ll be directed to the landing page where you can read ALL the posts from the series. If you haven’t already, read the post I wrote when I announced the trip. Otherwise, scroll to the bottom and you’ll find ALL the Kenya posts listed and linked for your reading enjoyment. Thanks for joining the journey, friends.

This is a guest post written by my younger sister, Tiffany, who has a diagnosis of schizoaffective disorder, bipolar type. Once a month, Tiffany documents a single day in her life. The purpose of these posts is to raise awareness of what it’s like to live with mental illness. I’m also hoping the posts will help readers recognize that we all have hopes, dreams, challenges and mountains to climb regardless of our mental health status. If you’d like to read the posts I’ve written about Tiffany’s journey and all the guest posts she’s shared on this blog, check out the mental health page. Without further ado, here’s Tiffany.

I woke up feeling like I didn’t want to get out of bed. My five-year-old daughter, Raegan, asked me why we cry sometimes, but tears don’t come out. I told her those were silent tears. I was feeling the silent tears that day.

I told myself, happiness is your choice. Just choose to be happy.

My kids were still sleeping. My mom stopped over with my ADHD medication; she is in charge of giving me my ADHD medication at this time because I had issues taking that medication in the past. That morning, I didn’t feel very beautiful, inside or out. She told me that I certainly was beautiful, and I began to feel a bit better. I felt sad because I don’t get to see my mom very much when she substitute teaches, which she is doing now. We said I love you a few times before my mom left for school. I always tell her to have safe travels.

I continued to tell myself to make a choice to be happy!

My kids woke up a few minutes after my mom left. Raegan had unity day at school. She was supposed to wear orange, but I didn’t look through her backpack the night before to know that. I happened to throw on an orange and blue flannel. Raegan and I argued about what she was going to wear for a while. Nothing I selected for her was what she wanted to wear. Finally, she told me she needed to wear orange for unity day. We found an outfit that had orange in it. The day was definitely getting better.

Off to school we went. We took a picture for unity day in our orange outfits before Raegan went into school.

I kept telling myself, I am happy! The kids are happy, I hope?!

Next, I stopped over at a friend’s place and life started to feel a bit more unified. My friend had just gotten engaged and she asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding. I am honored and excited. More happiness to add to the wonderful day!

I can’t remember much about the rest of that day except the lesson I learned:

I must keep telling myself to be happy when I’m feeling not-so happy. Telling myself to be happy every day has helped me ever since.

I remember being happy as a child, but at some point, mental illness attacked my mind. I am living and loving as much as I can, even with my mental illness. My support system is amazing and needed for the mental health issues I deal with on a daily basis.

My psychologist always asks me how life is going on a scale from 1-10. I used to say a consistent 7, sometimes 8. That’s pretty good, right? Along with making the decision to be happy, I also made the decision to reach some kind of 10 each day. That is pure happiness in life. I try to live one day at a time, and realize that positive self-talk is essential for living life to the fullest.

So is the glass half full or half empty? My psychologist and I talk about that sometimes. I told him last time that I already know the answer, so I don’t want to answer. If the glass is half full, then I’m an optimist. If the glass is half empty, then I’m a pessimist. I don’t really know what I am. I just try to turn those pessimistic moments into optimistic ones.

Happiness is your choice. Just choose to be happy.

Thanks for reading, everyone!

Tiffany