At the age of 31, I note that I have gone to five primary schools, two secondary schools and one college. I have lived in 3 major cities and two countries (Canada and Kenya).
With all of that moving around from school to school, from city to city and now from one country to another country, I have a lot of friends…and a lot of memories.
My primary school years are mostly filled with memories of my friend Kelly. We met in a small little town when I was four years old. We went to school together, played dolls together, and listened to endless hours of Air Supply tapes together. I then moved away, but the friendship remained. Even to this day, we can go months without seeing each other or even talking but when we do, we pick up right where we left off. We can laugh and cry together and reminisce about so many memories.
My secondary school years mostly consist of my best friend at that time, Kim. Especially in our last few years of high school (as the first two years I was at a different school and didn’t know her), we were always together. We were best friends and we even dated two guys who were best friends. We went through heart breaks and laughter together. There was the year that Italy was playing Brazil for the World Cup and Brazil won. So Kim and I drove down Erie Street (aka Little Italy) and started cheering, “Go Brazil! Woohoo Brazil!” Italians were coming out of the cafés, throwing things (cups, bottles, anything!) at Kim’s car as we drove down the main road. What we were thinking by doing that, I really don’t know…even to this day. We laughed uncontrollably as we drove away in her little blue car, that when it reached 80 km/h, the steering wheel would shake like crazy (and you had to roll up the windows in order to get the car to go 80 km/h and over – the wind blowing in the car was torture on the poor engine). My parents adored her; I adored her. We then moved in together for our first year of university and unfortunately, that was a rough year for us. It changed our friendship forever.
My college years were with my friend Shirley. Second year, we moved in together. It was so much fun; she was so much fun. She was a country girl; I was a city girl. For the first time in my life, on the way to visit her hometown, I saw a cow run. Who’d a thought I would be so excited about seeing a cow run?!?!? That’s the city girl for you. I feared getting flat tires when I drove as I was always driving on the highway from the city I lived in to the city my family lived in. Then out in the country, I was driving along with Shirley and her sister Debbie and I started to hear this noise. They immediately said, “Hey Mere, you have a flat tire.” I was freaking out and then realized that they were laughing hysterically. I was only driving over the grooves in the road for the truck drivers to let them know there is a stop sign ahead (for you country folk, you know what I’m talking about). Shirley and I lost our friendship due to something silly on my part….but thanks to the world wide web, we got in contact again and all was forgiven.
After college, I started working full-time. This is where I met Deb & Lisa. Deb and I worked at the same place and we really got to know each other when I would use the phone by her front desk to call this guy during my breaks or lunch hours. Then over time, we became friends and she introduced me to Lisa. The three of us did a lot of things together; they especially helped me through a crappy, low period in my life. Deb had gotten married and moved away with her husband and yet, we always kept in contact…going camping a couple times a year, spending New Year’s Eves and birthdays together. Deb was always good that way. Lisa and I still lived in the same city and we would go for drives on the weekend. We’d turn up the music really loud, roll down the windows and just drive. Deb & Lisa were there for me when I realized I needed a change of life and I quit my job, packed up my things and moved to the big, big city. They are true gems.
After moving to the big, big city, I became good friends with Catherine (who was like mom to me) and Rhonda, my sweet best friend. Catherine helped me find my way back to the path that I needed to be on and Rhonda, her and I shared the love and passion of checking out Africa together. We spent almost 4 months together in 2005, living in a mud and grass hut outside of Eldoret. We too, went through laughter and heartaches together. We can talk about ANYTHING and EVERYTHING. She is the one person in this whole world that I can be as silly and as serious as I want to be with…and she’d join right along with me. Rhonda and I shared common struggles and frustrations and as she embarks on the next phase in her life…she’s getting married on August 2nd….I am saddened that I can’t be there for her on her very special day, like I know she’ll be there for mine. But I am so incredibly thankful that she has found the most amazing man just for her, a man that treats her the way she so deserves. I am so excited for her as she embarks on this new and exciting phase in less than a week – called marriage!
Overall, I’m not perfect; I’ve done stupid things to cause friends to be mad at me; to lose friendships and needing to do what I could to restore them. I’ve also been one to get my heart broken over friends who’ve chosen their boyfriends at that time over our friendship; friends who’ve gotten married and had children and maybe slowly realized that me being single and them being married and having baby talk times; we just weren’t on the same page and so we started to drift apart. I’ve had a male friend that turned in to something more; him moving away to go to school. But it still left things changed, hearts sadden and tears shed.
I look at friendships and think they shouldn’t be too difficult. Yes, there are disagreements; yes, there are hurt feelings but its all part of the growing. Friendships aren’t meant to be one-sided, where one makes so much effort and the other sits back and waits to be called.
Friendships shouldn’t be put in clubs. My favorite is the unspoken “Married (and possibly with children) Club”. The unspoken thoughts of: “Well you’re single and I’m married (with or without children); therefore we don’t have anything in common. I’m going to hang out with married couples (who also may/may not have children) from now on.” What was the basis of the friendship before? Was it superficial?
I love friendships; I love building relationships. My heart aches at the losses of them, whether the loss is my fault or not. Every one of my close friends from primary school to Daniel here in Africa, impacted my life in some way or another. The memories with these people will last a lifetime. No matter what “stage” I’m at in my life, I choose to continue to love my friends, to value them, to respect them and be there for them.
We need friends - women we need to have girlfriend time; and men need to have their male bonding time -whether we’re single or married (and yes, single woman and married woman can be friends with each other!). It doesn’t matter. Don’t we need to value our friends more? Don’t we need to know that our friends will be there when we need them? Don’t we want to be the type of friend that others can count on?
I messed up on some friendships in the past; but these past few weeks, as I’ve sat back and thought of certain friendships, I’ve realized that I miss a few of them. With some of them, I only have the memories, whether it be in a song, a rainfall or a picture. There are people who mean/meant so much to me, who taught me so much and whom I’ll cherish in my heart forever. And to those of you, I thank you. Thank you for the memories.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
Mud Houses & Mud Fights....
In our sponsorship program, we have six beautiful grandchildren: Lucia, Maureen, Abel, Joseph, Benjamin and Benard. They are being raised by their equally beautiful grandmother, Sophia.
Their plot consists of one little round mud and grass hut that is the kitchen and another little round mud and grass hut where the seven of them sleep. The grass thatched roof has holes in it that allow the rain, especially during this heavy rainy season to come in to their home and dampen everything.
Through the sponsorship program, that so many of you are a part of, we have been able to begin construction on a big mud house with iron sheets as a roof (this will keep out the rain!). The wood frame of the home has been built already and the iron sheet roof, in tact. The house has 3 rooms: one sitting room (aka living/family room) and two bedrooms, one for the boys and one for the girls.
Yesterday, the TI team: Tim (intern), Daniel, Holly (volunteer from the US), Anne (our social worker), Hoglah (Kenyan university student doing her attachment/internship/co-op with TI) and myself, got dirty and built the mud structure.
When we arrived at Sophia’s house, there was excitement. I think for the fact that white people were going to be doing the work. To many Kenyans, they don’t see white people “working” very much. There’s a perception of perhaps, laziness or that we have tons of machines to do the work for us (which in reality, in mostly true). So to see us walking up to their plot, ready to work…well, they were just excited.
In the corner of the plot were four Kenyan men, digging up the ground and dumping water on it, to make the mud. After a few minutes, Anne and I looked at each other and said, “Let’s get to work!” So her and I ran for the mud pile and jumped in. It was about mid-calf deep and of course squishy. Holly, Hoglah & Tim followed us in. As the four men, dug up the earth and added water, we walked around mixing the mud and water with our feet. The purpose was to get it in to a smooth mixture. There was the odd painful crunch of a rock when you were stomping but other than that, Holly and I were quite thankful for the cheap exfoliation that was being done on our feet and legs.
.JPG)
(The house before we started working on it)
(Stomping the mud)
(Good times...Tim, Hoglah, Holly, Me & Anne)
After the mixing was complete, Daniel and Ben (our Kenyan friend), got inside the mud house and we made big mud balls and passed it to them through the wooden frame. They then put them in piles in the middle of the rooms in the house. After we had run out of the first layer of mud, we all went inside the rooms and started making the mud walls as the four men dug, added water and stomped the mixture for more. After the mud piles were finished, we started the process all over again.
(Tim working hard)
(Holly hard at work)
(Me...hard at work...seriously!)
(Hoglah, Holly & I taking a photo op)
(Holly & I...calling a truce after all the mud fighting)
Along the way, of course….we had mud fights. Holly got me good in the face, well the eye actually. I got Tim good….in the mouth. Yes, he ate a small ball of mud…stuck to his teeth quite well. Even Hoglah and Anne joined in the fun. I was a little hesitant throwing mud at Hoglah, so neat and clean, but thought, “She’s gotta join the group.” So after a big mud ball to her back and arm and she joined in.
The children and community members that gathered around (and some even helped) to watch the wazungu (white people) build this mud house, enjoyed our silliness of mud fights. People from around came just to thank us for doing what we were doing.
(Our sweet little Benard)
(Old man from the community - thinking the wazungu were crazy!)
It was an amazing day, so much fun.
.JPG)
(The first phase almost done.)
And yes, our muscles ache. From the calves to the shoulder blades, we groan with every bend and reach. But it was all worth it. To see the grandmother and grandchildren happy that they will be getting a new home with no leaks of rain, rooms for the girls and the boys and a sitting room where they can eat their meals….it was definitely all worth it. I’d do it all again tomorrow.
We'll do the next phase of the house soon. Keep you posted.
(The grandmother and her grandchildren - plus a few extra people.)
Their plot consists of one little round mud and grass hut that is the kitchen and another little round mud and grass hut where the seven of them sleep. The grass thatched roof has holes in it that allow the rain, especially during this heavy rainy season to come in to their home and dampen everything.
Through the sponsorship program, that so many of you are a part of, we have been able to begin construction on a big mud house with iron sheets as a roof (this will keep out the rain!). The wood frame of the home has been built already and the iron sheet roof, in tact. The house has 3 rooms: one sitting room (aka living/family room) and two bedrooms, one for the boys and one for the girls.
Yesterday, the TI team: Tim (intern), Daniel, Holly (volunteer from the US), Anne (our social worker), Hoglah (Kenyan university student doing her attachment/internship/co-op with TI) and myself, got dirty and built the mud structure.
When we arrived at Sophia’s house, there was excitement. I think for the fact that white people were going to be doing the work. To many Kenyans, they don’t see white people “working” very much. There’s a perception of perhaps, laziness or that we have tons of machines to do the work for us (which in reality, in mostly true). So to see us walking up to their plot, ready to work…well, they were just excited.
In the corner of the plot were four Kenyan men, digging up the ground and dumping water on it, to make the mud. After a few minutes, Anne and I looked at each other and said, “Let’s get to work!” So her and I ran for the mud pile and jumped in. It was about mid-calf deep and of course squishy. Holly, Hoglah & Tim followed us in. As the four men, dug up the earth and added water, we walked around mixing the mud and water with our feet. The purpose was to get it in to a smooth mixture. There was the odd painful crunch of a rock when you were stomping but other than that, Holly and I were quite thankful for the cheap exfoliation that was being done on our feet and legs.
.JPG)
(The house before we started working on it)
(Stomping the mud)
(Good times...Tim, Hoglah, Holly, Me & Anne)After the mixing was complete, Daniel and Ben (our Kenyan friend), got inside the mud house and we made big mud balls and passed it to them through the wooden frame. They then put them in piles in the middle of the rooms in the house. After we had run out of the first layer of mud, we all went inside the rooms and started making the mud walls as the four men dug, added water and stomped the mixture for more. After the mud piles were finished, we started the process all over again.
(Tim working hard)
(Holly hard at work)
(Me...hard at work...seriously!)
(Hoglah, Holly & I taking a photo op)
(Holly & I...calling a truce after all the mud fighting)Along the way, of course….we had mud fights. Holly got me good in the face, well the eye actually. I got Tim good….in the mouth. Yes, he ate a small ball of mud…stuck to his teeth quite well. Even Hoglah and Anne joined in the fun. I was a little hesitant throwing mud at Hoglah, so neat and clean, but thought, “She’s gotta join the group.” So after a big mud ball to her back and arm and she joined in.
The children and community members that gathered around (and some even helped) to watch the wazungu (white people) build this mud house, enjoyed our silliness of mud fights. People from around came just to thank us for doing what we were doing.
(Our sweet little Benard)
(Old man from the community - thinking the wazungu were crazy!)It was an amazing day, so much fun.
.JPG)
(The first phase almost done.)And yes, our muscles ache. From the calves to the shoulder blades, we groan with every bend and reach. But it was all worth it. To see the grandmother and grandchildren happy that they will be getting a new home with no leaks of rain, rooms for the girls and the boys and a sitting room where they can eat their meals….it was definitely all worth it. I’d do it all again tomorrow.
We'll do the next phase of the house soon. Keep you posted.
(The grandmother and her grandchildren - plus a few extra people.)
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Thoughts at 3:30 in the morning...
It’s after 3:30 am (at the time of writing this) and I’m wide awake. I’ve been up for almost an hour, thoughts going through my head like crazy. All my body wants to do right now is sleep, but my mind is in overdrive.
I woke up with an ache in my heart. My mind started replaying stories of children I have heard recently, the suffering in their lives, the conditions they live in. It’s so overwhelming at times. When I look around and see so many children, so desperate for the basic needs to be met in their lives, it saddens me…to know these needs aren’t being met, can’t be met.
Kenya, as a whole, is not an affectionate country. Not to be stereo-typical by any means but very rarely, do you see a father hold his children in a loving manner, let alone hold his child at all. And even as the child grows, away from the breast-feeding year, the motherly bonding seems to deteriorate. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a mother here in Kenya pick up their child when they are hurt and console them and kiss their “boo-boo” away.
Except in Nairobi, where you see the odd hand holding of couples and it being a city of more modernized people, you would never know a married couple walking down the street together or a boyfriend and girlfriend on a lunch date (except for the dates under the random tree where they sit eight feet apart and barely look at each other).
I’ve asked people over my few years in Kenya, “Why aren’t you affectionate to one another whether it be children or partners?” And a lot of them have said that life in Africa is tough and therefore they themselves need to be tough. They want to raise their children to be tough, to be strong against the elements that the poverty-stricken African life throws at them. I can understand that, to a degree.
But whether an African child or a North American child, physical contact, physical affection is something we all crave. I see that in the African children I meet with daily. It ranges from a little baby to a teenage street kid (boy or girl). They’ve lacked that physical affection and when they get it from me (or from any of us here), they soak it in. I love kissing a baby’s cheek, a toddler’s cheek and feel them push their cheek up against me, for more. I love when a child comes and curls up on my lap and nuzzles up against me and wants me to wrap my arms around him or her. I love when the street kids come over and know that I will give them a hug and they don’t run away from it but “embrace” it.
I see the lack of physical affection in this culture. I feel it at times and it’s such a loss. A hand held, a hug, a kiss on the cheek…they can change a person’s mood in a moment. I know for me, there are moments where I’ve had a bad day, an emotional day…and its amazing how a hug, a simple hug can change that mood.
I long to see more Kenyan men hold their children in their laps and wrap their protective arms around their children. I long to see them spend time with them, reading them stories, playing football in the yard with them. I long to see the Kenyan women cover their children’s cheeks in kisses and comfort their children when they fall and hurt themselves.
No matter where we come from, as children (and even sometimes leading in to adulthood), we desire that physical affection from our parents. Sometimes actions speak louder than words and a moment of hugging someone is far better than hearing, “Its okay.” or “You’ll be okay.”
I don’t know the purpose of this blog, if it at all makes sense…as it’s now 4:30 in the morning. Maybe I’m just tired….or maybe I just really need a hug.
I woke up with an ache in my heart. My mind started replaying stories of children I have heard recently, the suffering in their lives, the conditions they live in. It’s so overwhelming at times. When I look around and see so many children, so desperate for the basic needs to be met in their lives, it saddens me…to know these needs aren’t being met, can’t be met.
Kenya, as a whole, is not an affectionate country. Not to be stereo-typical by any means but very rarely, do you see a father hold his children in a loving manner, let alone hold his child at all. And even as the child grows, away from the breast-feeding year, the motherly bonding seems to deteriorate. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a mother here in Kenya pick up their child when they are hurt and console them and kiss their “boo-boo” away.
Except in Nairobi, where you see the odd hand holding of couples and it being a city of more modernized people, you would never know a married couple walking down the street together or a boyfriend and girlfriend on a lunch date (except for the dates under the random tree where they sit eight feet apart and barely look at each other).
I’ve asked people over my few years in Kenya, “Why aren’t you affectionate to one another whether it be children or partners?” And a lot of them have said that life in Africa is tough and therefore they themselves need to be tough. They want to raise their children to be tough, to be strong against the elements that the poverty-stricken African life throws at them. I can understand that, to a degree.
But whether an African child or a North American child, physical contact, physical affection is something we all crave. I see that in the African children I meet with daily. It ranges from a little baby to a teenage street kid (boy or girl). They’ve lacked that physical affection and when they get it from me (or from any of us here), they soak it in. I love kissing a baby’s cheek, a toddler’s cheek and feel them push their cheek up against me, for more. I love when a child comes and curls up on my lap and nuzzles up against me and wants me to wrap my arms around him or her. I love when the street kids come over and know that I will give them a hug and they don’t run away from it but “embrace” it.
I see the lack of physical affection in this culture. I feel it at times and it’s such a loss. A hand held, a hug, a kiss on the cheek…they can change a person’s mood in a moment. I know for me, there are moments where I’ve had a bad day, an emotional day…and its amazing how a hug, a simple hug can change that mood.
I long to see more Kenyan men hold their children in their laps and wrap their protective arms around their children. I long to see them spend time with them, reading them stories, playing football in the yard with them. I long to see the Kenyan women cover their children’s cheeks in kisses and comfort their children when they fall and hurt themselves.
No matter where we come from, as children (and even sometimes leading in to adulthood), we desire that physical affection from our parents. Sometimes actions speak louder than words and a moment of hugging someone is far better than hearing, “Its okay.” or “You’ll be okay.”
I don’t know the purpose of this blog, if it at all makes sense…as it’s now 4:30 in the morning. Maybe I’m just tired….or maybe I just really need a hug.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Faith, patience & hope...
Last week, Anne and I did a home assessment on two little twin girls: Faith & Patience. Faith and Patience are two years old; they are orphans, losing their mother at childbirth and their father unknown.
Patience is a completely healthy little girl, who is able to run around and play; she can ask for what she wants or needs and can be understood by the family she lives with. Faith, on the other hand, has some medical conditions. There were some issues during the birth that we aren’t fully aware of. She then caught meningitis while in the hospital. Faith can’t walk or run; she can’t speak of what she wants or needs and she can’t look you in the eye.
But she has the most incredible and beautiful laugh.
And I fell in love with her.
I knelt down to get eye level with Faith in her walker. She tried to make eye contact but it just wouldn’t work. Instead she moved her head to the sound of my voice. I took my finger and stroked the side of her cheek. I told her in Swahili how beautiful she was, what a good girl she was. And that’s when I heard her laugh…and saw the sweetest smile.
I picked her up from her walker and held her up against me. I kissed her cheek over and over again. If I stopped kissing her cheek, she would grab my face and try to pull it down to hers. Once I began kissing her again, she would laugh, the beautiful laugh…and press her cheek further in to my lips – for maximum kisses.
I didn’t want to leave her; if my purse was big enough, I would’ve snuck her in it. If her aunt and uncle (her guardians and the only parents she has even known) had given me permission to take her, I would’ve run full speed off their compound and down the dirt road before they could’ve changed their mind.
I saw perfection in this little girl; I saw God’s beauty in her.
Yesterday, the TI team went to a village and did assessment on over 25 children who are either living with their grandmothers or their widowed mothers. These children lived in sad conditions, horrible conditions – no food, no education and no healthcare. Their basic needs were not being met.
One child had a horrible infection spewing from his belly button (we’re taking him to the hospital this week for treatment). There were other children with the malnourished bellies or ringworm infecting their heads.
It took so much in me not to cry….seeing the children and hearing their stories from their mothers or grandmothers. I stared at the children; each of them so beautiful, so innocent. Later, I looked over all them again, singing and clapping and giving thanks to God for what they did have. They had mothers and grandmothers who did love them, who did try their best to provide for these children.
And the children have hope and faith….for their prayers to be answered.
Check out our website for updates on these assessments and some of these children to be sponsored in the next few weeks: www.transformedinternational.org
With Love,
Meredith
Patience is a completely healthy little girl, who is able to run around and play; she can ask for what she wants or needs and can be understood by the family she lives with. Faith, on the other hand, has some medical conditions. There were some issues during the birth that we aren’t fully aware of. She then caught meningitis while in the hospital. Faith can’t walk or run; she can’t speak of what she wants or needs and she can’t look you in the eye.
But she has the most incredible and beautiful laugh.
And I fell in love with her.
I knelt down to get eye level with Faith in her walker. She tried to make eye contact but it just wouldn’t work. Instead she moved her head to the sound of my voice. I took my finger and stroked the side of her cheek. I told her in Swahili how beautiful she was, what a good girl she was. And that’s when I heard her laugh…and saw the sweetest smile.
I picked her up from her walker and held her up against me. I kissed her cheek over and over again. If I stopped kissing her cheek, she would grab my face and try to pull it down to hers. Once I began kissing her again, she would laugh, the beautiful laugh…and press her cheek further in to my lips – for maximum kisses.
I didn’t want to leave her; if my purse was big enough, I would’ve snuck her in it. If her aunt and uncle (her guardians and the only parents she has even known) had given me permission to take her, I would’ve run full speed off their compound and down the dirt road before they could’ve changed their mind.
I saw perfection in this little girl; I saw God’s beauty in her.
Yesterday, the TI team went to a village and did assessment on over 25 children who are either living with their grandmothers or their widowed mothers. These children lived in sad conditions, horrible conditions – no food, no education and no healthcare. Their basic needs were not being met.
One child had a horrible infection spewing from his belly button (we’re taking him to the hospital this week for treatment). There were other children with the malnourished bellies or ringworm infecting their heads.
It took so much in me not to cry….seeing the children and hearing their stories from their mothers or grandmothers. I stared at the children; each of them so beautiful, so innocent. Later, I looked over all them again, singing and clapping and giving thanks to God for what they did have. They had mothers and grandmothers who did love them, who did try their best to provide for these children.
And the children have hope and faith….for their prayers to be answered.
Check out our website for updates on these assessments and some of these children to be sponsored in the next few weeks: www.transformedinternational.org
With Love,
Meredith
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Piece of the Puzzle...
I’m sure many of you have already heard about the attacks on John & Eloise Bergen, the missionary couple living in our town of Kitale, Kenya.
This is a horrific act that was done on two wonderful people who chose to give up so much to serve in this country. And yet, I am filled with amazement that despite the fact that they went through this ordeal, they still want to stay in Kenya, continue with the work that they were brought here to do. Such amazing faith!
Yesterday evening, I was reading through the book of Habakkuk. The book is a dialogue between God and Habakkuk. Habakkuk was asking God why He was allowing the oppression of the poor, the rising of the wicked, to happen.
Habakkuk 1:2,3
“How long, O Lord, must I call for help, but you do not listen? Or cry out to you, “Violence!” but you do not save?...Destruction and violence are before me; there is strife, and conflict abounds.”
God’s reply:
Habakkuk 1:5, 2:3
“Look at the nations and watch – and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told.”
“For the revelation awaits an appointed time; it speaks of the end and will not prove false. Though it linger, wait for it; it will certainly come and will not delay.”
Habakkuk 3:2,18,19
“Lord, I have heard of your fame; I stand in awe of your deeds, O Lord. Renew them in our day, in our time make them known; in wrath remember mercy.
“Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to go on the heights.”
I remember back in our Young Adults group quite a few years back, our friend Glen brought a 200-piece puzzle to our group. He had each of us pull just one piece of the puzzle and look at it. Then we went around the room and described what each of our puzzles looked like and what we thought the completed picture was, based on our pieces.
After a few minutes and going around the room, Glen unveiled the picture of the puzzle. Not one of us had gotten the completed picture correct.
We are just a single piece of God’s puzzle. We can not see the whole picture; we view things based on us and the few around us. We question God and why He did or allowed this or that to happen. But we don’t know His reasons behind it. We don’t see the whole picture.
And that is where our faith comes in. That is where we say, like Habakkuk, “I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior.” Even in moments and times we don’t understand. That is where we are like Job, who lost everything and say, “As long as I have life within me, the breath of God in my nostrils, my lips will not speak wickedness, and my tongue will utter no deceit…I will maintain my righteousness and never let go of it; my conscience will not reproach me as long as I live.” Job 27:3,4,6
So although we can’t understand the recent events of our friends, Eloise knew that Jesus Christ was right beside her (as said in her interview to CTV on Friday). . I am amazed by John and Eloise’s faith, perseverance and strength. That in itself speaks so much to me. There is a reason for it all and I choose to believe in Him.
Please continue to lift John & Eloise up in your prayers.
Much love,
Meredith
This is a horrific act that was done on two wonderful people who chose to give up so much to serve in this country. And yet, I am filled with amazement that despite the fact that they went through this ordeal, they still want to stay in Kenya, continue with the work that they were brought here to do. Such amazing faith!
Yesterday evening, I was reading through the book of Habakkuk. The book is a dialogue between God and Habakkuk. Habakkuk was asking God why He was allowing the oppression of the poor, the rising of the wicked, to happen.
Habakkuk 1:2,3
“How long, O Lord, must I call for help, but you do not listen? Or cry out to you, “Violence!” but you do not save?...Destruction and violence are before me; there is strife, and conflict abounds.”
God’s reply:
Habakkuk 1:5, 2:3
“Look at the nations and watch – and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told.”
“For the revelation awaits an appointed time; it speaks of the end and will not prove false. Though it linger, wait for it; it will certainly come and will not delay.”
Habakkuk 3:2,18,19
“Lord, I have heard of your fame; I stand in awe of your deeds, O Lord. Renew them in our day, in our time make them known; in wrath remember mercy.
“Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to go on the heights.”
I remember back in our Young Adults group quite a few years back, our friend Glen brought a 200-piece puzzle to our group. He had each of us pull just one piece of the puzzle and look at it. Then we went around the room and described what each of our puzzles looked like and what we thought the completed picture was, based on our pieces.
After a few minutes and going around the room, Glen unveiled the picture of the puzzle. Not one of us had gotten the completed picture correct.
We are just a single piece of God’s puzzle. We can not see the whole picture; we view things based on us and the few around us. We question God and why He did or allowed this or that to happen. But we don’t know His reasons behind it. We don’t see the whole picture.
And that is where our faith comes in. That is where we say, like Habakkuk, “I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior.” Even in moments and times we don’t understand. That is where we are like Job, who lost everything and say, “As long as I have life within me, the breath of God in my nostrils, my lips will not speak wickedness, and my tongue will utter no deceit…I will maintain my righteousness and never let go of it; my conscience will not reproach me as long as I live.” Job 27:3,4,6
So although we can’t understand the recent events of our friends, Eloise knew that Jesus Christ was right beside her (as said in her interview to CTV on Friday). . I am amazed by John and Eloise’s faith, perseverance and strength. That in itself speaks so much to me. There is a reason for it all and I choose to believe in Him.
Please continue to lift John & Eloise up in your prayers.
Much love,
Meredith
Friday, July 4, 2008
Stop and smell the roses...and rain!
Rainy season is officially upon us. Well, it’s been here for a few months now but it was a come and go thing.
Yesterday, it poured, heavy downfalls. It rained even in to the early morning. I loved it. I love the sound of the rain on the roof; I love the smell of the rain. It’s not like the wormy spring smell that we get back in Canada; here it’s a fresh scent.
There’s a comfort in the sound of the rain; especially in the evenings. The chill that’s in the air and the security of being under the heaviness of my blankets pulled up to my chin, my head drowning in one pillow, while I wrap my arms around another one.
Every morning at 6:00 am, the birds begin to chirp. Without looking at my phone to see the time, I know that it’s 6:00 because I can hear the beautiful different sounds of the birds.
There are mornings where I hear the dogs whining and I know Timo, our little monkey, is in the yard and the dogs are desperately trying to play with him. They don’t dare take their eyes off of Timo, fearing they may lose the opportunity to get him.
The other morning, Timo was in the tree next to the guy’s house (that overhangs our walkway to the door). I went in to our pantry and grabbed a banana and went and stood under the tree. I shooed the dogs away, peeled back the banana and called Timo’s name. He came “tarzaning” over to the edge, only a foot or so above my eye level and looked at me, his head tilted. I lifted up the banana to him; he grabbed the top of the banana with his cute little hands and put the banana in his mouth. I sat in amazement that I was about a foot away from him, watching him eat and not an ounce bit afraid of those massive fangs that were chomping down on the banana.
When Timo finished that piece, he tilted his head at me again, telling me that he was ready for more. I peeled back the skin of the banana a bit more and reached up to him. He took the rest of the banana and repeated his chewing. He looked down at my hand, realizing that he had finished the banana. Then he “tarzaned” away.
I watched him jump from one branch to one tree to another tree. He traveled from the front of our compound to the back of it, never once touching the ground but flying through the air in to the branches of the trees.
We have this huge beautiful tree on our compound with the most beautiful purple flowers on it. Right now, it’s in bloom and the flowers are bright and plenty. We have the same tree above our compound gate. If you tell someone we live at the house with the purple trees, they know exactly where it is. The one in the yard is so big, it can be seen over the fences and hedges and the one in front of our gate is so bright as well, it’s the only one in our community.
There’s a species of bird that is in our yard every day. It’s a gorgeous smooth black bird with a bright yellow face and a dark red feathered head. When it flies, the underarms of the wings are the same dark red that is so vibrant across the sky when the wings are spread out. We have these sweet little, bright yellow birds that love to bathe in our bird bath.
It’s beautiful; absolutely beautiful.
Then there’s the children. There’s a beauty that can’t even be described.
We recently added a grandmother with five grandchildren in to our program. When we went and visited her and the situation was so sad. The six of them live in a falling apart one-room mud home with tin roof. There is one bed with an old, stained, thin mattress. There are two wood couches with thin cushions for seating. This bed and two couches are the beds for the six in the household. The bedroom, sitting room and kitchen are all the same room.
The two youngest boys, Kevin and Joshua were home when we visited them for the first time, the others were at school. They were extremely nervous and scared when we arrived; probably their first time experience with white people. After a few minutes, Kevin warmed up to me, sat on my lap and even allowed me to cover him in kisses, while he laughed like crazy, showing his front-toothless grin. Joshua was a little hesitant until I pulled out the handy dandy digital camera, took a picture of him and then showed him the picture of himself.
We put the five children on our website and within a week, they were all sponsored. This month (this week), was our first food delivery to their home. The grandmother was beside herself; full of thanks for that she could now feed her grandchildren, that she could now have soap to wash the grandchildren and their clothes. We are also looking in to relocating them to another home, a better, more secure home.
It reminds me of all we take for granted. The beauty of what God created around us; the sound of the rain, the smell of the rain, the sound of the birds, food in our stomachs, soap to wash our bodies and homes that don’t have gapping holes in the sides or in the roof where the rain pours in like there isn’t a roof at all.
In moments when I cry because my heart has broken from something said, seen or done; in moments, when I wonder where God is, I look at the things surrounding me, I look in the eyes of a child and I see His beauty, I see His love.
So take a moment and do as the saying says: “Stop and smell the roses.” Take time to enjoy the things around you, the people around you. Thank God for what He has created, for what He has given you. Tell the ones you love that you love them. Don’t take them for granted. Show them that you love them. Be thankful because we have been given so much and sometimes don’t realize it.
So with that said, I am thankful for you. And to my family and friends, I love you so much. Thank you for being a part of my life and my journey.
Yesterday, it poured, heavy downfalls. It rained even in to the early morning. I loved it. I love the sound of the rain on the roof; I love the smell of the rain. It’s not like the wormy spring smell that we get back in Canada; here it’s a fresh scent.
There’s a comfort in the sound of the rain; especially in the evenings. The chill that’s in the air and the security of being under the heaviness of my blankets pulled up to my chin, my head drowning in one pillow, while I wrap my arms around another one.
Every morning at 6:00 am, the birds begin to chirp. Without looking at my phone to see the time, I know that it’s 6:00 because I can hear the beautiful different sounds of the birds.
There are mornings where I hear the dogs whining and I know Timo, our little monkey, is in the yard and the dogs are desperately trying to play with him. They don’t dare take their eyes off of Timo, fearing they may lose the opportunity to get him.
The other morning, Timo was in the tree next to the guy’s house (that overhangs our walkway to the door). I went in to our pantry and grabbed a banana and went and stood under the tree. I shooed the dogs away, peeled back the banana and called Timo’s name. He came “tarzaning” over to the edge, only a foot or so above my eye level and looked at me, his head tilted. I lifted up the banana to him; he grabbed the top of the banana with his cute little hands and put the banana in his mouth. I sat in amazement that I was about a foot away from him, watching him eat and not an ounce bit afraid of those massive fangs that were chomping down on the banana.
When Timo finished that piece, he tilted his head at me again, telling me that he was ready for more. I peeled back the skin of the banana a bit more and reached up to him. He took the rest of the banana and repeated his chewing. He looked down at my hand, realizing that he had finished the banana. Then he “tarzaned” away.
I watched him jump from one branch to one tree to another tree. He traveled from the front of our compound to the back of it, never once touching the ground but flying through the air in to the branches of the trees.
We have this huge beautiful tree on our compound with the most beautiful purple flowers on it. Right now, it’s in bloom and the flowers are bright and plenty. We have the same tree above our compound gate. If you tell someone we live at the house with the purple trees, they know exactly where it is. The one in the yard is so big, it can be seen over the fences and hedges and the one in front of our gate is so bright as well, it’s the only one in our community.
There’s a species of bird that is in our yard every day. It’s a gorgeous smooth black bird with a bright yellow face and a dark red feathered head. When it flies, the underarms of the wings are the same dark red that is so vibrant across the sky when the wings are spread out. We have these sweet little, bright yellow birds that love to bathe in our bird bath.
It’s beautiful; absolutely beautiful.
Then there’s the children. There’s a beauty that can’t even be described.
We recently added a grandmother with five grandchildren in to our program. When we went and visited her and the situation was so sad. The six of them live in a falling apart one-room mud home with tin roof. There is one bed with an old, stained, thin mattress. There are two wood couches with thin cushions for seating. This bed and two couches are the beds for the six in the household. The bedroom, sitting room and kitchen are all the same room.
The two youngest boys, Kevin and Joshua were home when we visited them for the first time, the others were at school. They were extremely nervous and scared when we arrived; probably their first time experience with white people. After a few minutes, Kevin warmed up to me, sat on my lap and even allowed me to cover him in kisses, while he laughed like crazy, showing his front-toothless grin. Joshua was a little hesitant until I pulled out the handy dandy digital camera, took a picture of him and then showed him the picture of himself.
We put the five children on our website and within a week, they were all sponsored. This month (this week), was our first food delivery to their home. The grandmother was beside herself; full of thanks for that she could now feed her grandchildren, that she could now have soap to wash the grandchildren and their clothes. We are also looking in to relocating them to another home, a better, more secure home.
It reminds me of all we take for granted. The beauty of what God created around us; the sound of the rain, the smell of the rain, the sound of the birds, food in our stomachs, soap to wash our bodies and homes that don’t have gapping holes in the sides or in the roof where the rain pours in like there isn’t a roof at all.
In moments when I cry because my heart has broken from something said, seen or done; in moments, when I wonder where God is, I look at the things surrounding me, I look in the eyes of a child and I see His beauty, I see His love.
So take a moment and do as the saying says: “Stop and smell the roses.” Take time to enjoy the things around you, the people around you. Thank God for what He has created, for what He has given you. Tell the ones you love that you love them. Don’t take them for granted. Show them that you love them. Be thankful because we have been given so much and sometimes don’t realize it.
So with that said, I am thankful for you. And to my family and friends, I love you so much. Thank you for being a part of my life and my journey.
This is Kevin. I love the front toothless grin. :-)
This is Joshua, posing for the handy dandy digital camera.
This is the grandmother with her grandchildren:
(Phylis, Edwin, Joshua, Kevin and Adelide)
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