Over the past two weeks the families in Camp Tumaini have been busy in their shamba's (garden/field). The time has come for planting… the rains are coming!

It has been a great opportunity for us to get dirty and work along side of our friends. There is something that connects people who work together on the same level that goes deeper than a foreigner coming to give handouts, preach and then leave. I enjoy joining in on daily tasks, knowing that it is developing relationships with people and provides opportunities for sharing the Gospel with or sometimes even without words.

This past week, my teammates Matt Patch and Matt Ruple, organized a soccer game and mentoring for the older boys in the camp. It was so amazing to see the impact that having a godly man invest in them can have. Many of these boys are growing up without fathers. Some fathers have been killed during the election violence, some were separated at that point and have not reconnected, others are gone looking for work. It brought me joy to see our men stepping up as good role models for these boys who experience mostly absent or sometimes drunk fathers.

The soccer game was ended a bit early by a rain storm… the first rain in over a month. The giant raindrops sent us all running to tents for shelter. I huddled in close with about 12 kids as we waited-out the rain. Lucy set out every large bowl or bucket they had in order to catch the water to use later for cooking, cleaning and drinking. As the storm grew, rain came dripping in through the tarp material and seeped in from under the door and tarp walls, turning parts of the dirt floor to mud.

I can't wait to see these families in homes! I pray that the Lord will provide them with a safe and comfortable place to live and that if He chooses, that we can be a part of helping that happen. We are looking at land in hopes of finding a place where these families can each own a plot and build a home. Please be praying that we would find a wonderful place for a good price and for all the logistics involved. Also please pray over our finances. Our project fund is in great need. You can donate online toward the project fund by clicking HERE.

On Monday evening Zaporah, a beloved Shosho (grandmother) in Camp Tumaini, past away. The community, as well as our team, mourns her death.

She was a woman filled with the joy of the Lord and loved the children of the camp as her own grandchildren. She didn't speak a word of English, but her joy was a universal language understood by everyone. She worshiped the Lord, hands raised to the sky! Now, she can dance as she sings her praises. No more leaky tin roof or tarp walls; Shosho has got a home better than Habitat or we would ever be able to provide for her. No more diabetes or malaria, no more pain or suffering. Shosho is with Jesus.

Wednesday, March 21^st was my birthday. I had a diverse group of guests at my party. My teammates were there (well except for Matt Patch, who was at the hospital being tested for malaria). My amazing friend Jenny who takes photographs of disabled children for CURE hospital came (with cream cheese, bless her!!). My friend Gibbon, a Massi Warrior/ RVA security guard and another friend of his joined us, as well as, Two older men, visiting from America doing work with the African Christian radio. There was also a man named Mohammad with an amazing story. I'm going to keep it a bit vague and brief for his protection.

Mohammad was working at a hospital in Somalia, where many foreigners work. One average day at work, he was captured by Al Shabab. He was held hostage, beaten nearly to death, with knives to his neck and bullets shot near his feet as he was questioned about his alliances. He endured these horrifying conditions for 15 days before he and 3 others escaped by foot. They traveled more than 200 kilometers to the Kenya boarder without carrying any food. One of the men shot a water buffalo and they cooked it over a fire. At the border they sold the gun they were carrying to get money to take a matatu (public transport) as far as it would get them into Kenya. He met a hospital chaplain, who was able to help him find a place to stay for a while and a temporary job as a translator.

After hearing Mohammad's incredible story I told him he was very courageous. He said, “That is just life in Somalia”. Then he went on to explain that before heading to the market, men would put a slip of paper in their pocket with their name, a phone number and a request for someone to call that family member if they had been killed. He said that when you are out walking down the street, people just start shooting each other without warning and without concern for the innocent bystanders. He said every family in Somalia has to have a gun (and not just a little pistol, but a AK47). As Mohammad shared all these things I got the sense that his spirit, though it had endured horrendous circumstances, had not been broken. There was something about the way he spoke that resounded with bravery and resilience. I'm inspired!

It's likely nothing new to those of you reading this that Somalia is unsafe. I've heard it in the news and seen things on the Internet. Somehow it is different when you meet an individual and hear what they have personally been through. I wish every person could sit and have a conversation with someone like Mohammad or my friends in the camp still living as refugees in their own country for over 4 years. Their story is not only heartbreaking, but also inspiring! Once you've heard it, once you've shook their hand or held their child, it seems impossible to go back to life as normal and do nothing.

God has placed a piece of His heart for these people in me. My heart aches with love and compassion for them. My greatest (birthday) gift would be to see them thriving. My heart delights in seeing God's plans unfold and to be a tangible vessel of His love.

God may not ask you to move to Kenya. Perhaps He will ask you to intercede in prayer or financially support a cause such as this. Whatever He asks of you... don't ignore it. Don't be afraid to ruin your comfortable "normal" life; the benefits that come from opening your heart to share in God's compassion far out-way any sacrifice. Be Inspired!

I spent one rainy afternoon in the tent of one of my favorite families. Denise, Peter, Jimmy and Salome welcomed me in, along with our friend Tabitha. 12-year-old Denise made lunch for his younger siblings. After lunch, he asked me if I would help him with reading. I gladly jumped at the chance and was impressed as he read from a tattered English schoolbook. The story was about a robber who was scared-off by a talking parrot. In the dark shop, the talking parrot said, “I can see you and God can see you!”  This reading lesson transitioned into a discussion about God and the Gospel. Denise and his brother Peter seemed to have a basic understanding of the Gospel but struggled a bit to convey it in English. It was great to have such a natural opportunity to share.

This discussion was followed by an impromptu dance and song performance by Denise, which got Salome laughing like I've never seen before. It was a highlight of my week for sure! I hope for more rainy days to turn out like this. :)

For me, our first week back in Kenya was what I like to call the honeymoon phase. I was head-over-heals in love with everything here. The things that after a few months can seem irritating don't seem to bother me during the honeymoon phase; instead they are comfortable and homey. The joy and passion and excitement of being back overpower any adverse circumstance.

The down side about honeymoons is they don't last forever; eventually reality catches up to you. The reality that we stepped into here is that families are struggling. Struggling to keep their kids in school, struggling to have enough food to eat, struggling with illness, struggling with their living conditions. Seeing someone that you love suffering breaks through even the most wonderful honeymoon phase and can't be ignored.

Hunger had become a big problem in our absence. The dry season had come and crops have not been growing enough to feed the people we love. What can we do? We are not here to be “just another hand out”, yet self-sufficiency in the future seems pretty insignificant and irrelevant when people are hungry and sick today.

1John 3:17 and 18 hit me hard. It says, “If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with ACTIONS and in truth.”

On Friday, we took Salome and her mother Elizabeth to see the doctor. This little girl is very near and dear to my heart. Knowing that there was something wrong with her heath was killing me inside and I had to do something. I waited with Elizabeth and Salome for 6 hours before finally seeing the doctor. (We had arrived at 4:20 in the afternoon and sat waiting until after 10:30pm). I kept praying that it would all be worthwhile; that the doctor would be able to help Salome get better. After a total of over 8 hours at the hospital, we went home after midnight. We went back the next morning to get Salome some medicine.

That morning I was overjoyed and my heart was filled with delight. I witnessed Salome going from having been lethargic and sad (for months) to seeing her smile and even sing! She had iron deficiency anemia and was malnourished. I praise God it was nothing more serious, but then also realize that without enough income to provide sufficient iron-rich food for Salome, this is a serious problem.

Hunger is a serious problem; one that can't wait months for micro-business loans to create jobs and self-sustainability. Our friend Susan came to us and her words hurt: “I'm hungry. Why don't you love me?” Susan's plea (perhaps unknowingly) was a cry of 1John 3:17 and 18. Our team met and prayed and decided to give each family 2 kilos of Ugail flour, 1 kilo of beans and 1 kilo of cooking fat. The word the Lord spoke to me was “Jubilee”, an exceptional celebration.  So, the honeymoon may be over, but we will continue to rejoice and praise the Lord in all circumstances!

Saturday was our first day back at the IDP Camp. Our day started with team prayer and a stop for petrol (gas) before descending the bumpy road to Mahi Mahiu. We met some friends at the bottom of the hill and piled them into the back of our Pajaro. Our first stop was to visit Jeremiah's and Laurence's Barber/Tailoring shop. There was excitement all around as we reunited. Laurence, who was in a matatu (15 passenger public transportation) accident right before we left, showed us his latest x-rays and how his collarbone protruded painfully outward. It seemed to have gotten worse rather than better, but he was still busy on his machine. Our team, the Kenyan friends we brought, along with Jeremiah and his brother all prayed for Laurence's shoulder to be healed. (Please join us in praying healing for Laurence and if you leave a comment that you are praying for him, I'll let him know.)

Our next stop was Mama Esther's where we eat lunch about 4 or 5 times a week. She is an amazing woman who lives in the main IDP camp and she has started a restaurant. A filling portion of beans, rice and chapatti cost me about 75 cents. A single mother of three, Esther was proud to share with us that her kids were still in school and doing well.

As we drove to Camp Tumaini, I held back tears from all the excitement inside of me. We arrived and parked by a second water tank that some visitors had installed while we were in America. I got out of the car and the camp was seemingly empty. Matt Patch began to call out a few Swahili and Kikuyu phrases he knew… “Kuja hapa!” (come here). Three young kids rounded the corner of the farthest row of tents and upon seeing us began to run toward us, yelling our names. Before reaching us, little Peter came with Salome on his back, whom I gladly scooped up and held tight. (I've missed this baby so much!) Soon there after we were surrounded by young kids joyfully hugging us and holding our hands.

We came to find out that all the adults, except two shoshos (grandmothers), were at a funeral of a woman from another camp who had recently been in a matatu accident where 10 people died. As they walked home to their tents they saw us from a distance. It brought my heart such delight to see their huge smiles and excitement to see us. The hugs seemed to keep coming as I greeted each of my friends whom I'd missed. Elizabeth was especially glad to see me and told me Salome had been asking for me. Zipporah came with Abigail, who acted shy before becoming her adorable, bubbly self.

I went with Purity and Stephen to their tent where I spent an hour or two catching-up with them. Tabitha, a school-aged girl, found me and greeted me. Hugging me tightly with genuineness in her eyes she said, “Courtney, I've missed you very much… When you were in the US I cried…where is my cake?” My response: “I've missed you too, but I did not bring you any cake, only a hug.” Pouting and disappointed, Tabitha pleated, “But I cried.” (I later found out it is customary for a parent or relative to bring cake or a sweet after being away for a long time here.)

The rest of the school-aged children later greeted me with hugs at the main camp where I also got to see Rachel, an amazing young woman who has been leading and discipling a group of youth. The children all pouted as we said our goodbyes for the day and headed back to Kijabe. As we drove back up the hill, I thought to myself that I wish everyday of my life held this much excitement and joy. Perhaps that would be exhausting or loose its specialness and become normal. I guess we need the valleys to appreciate the mountaintops… but for me, the Rift Valley is a high place in my heart.