The Lord has laid on my heart that it is time to journey back to
Kenya, Africa. If I can raise enough funds to go, I will serve with
Christian Relief Fund, where I am an intern, and I will share the
Gospel, love orphans, and serve the needy.
If you would like to help support me in my journey, you can donate HERE,
through the Christian Relief Fund website. BE SURE to specify that
your donation is to go to "Emily's Kenya Trip." If you are unable to
donate anything, I would greatly appreciate your prayers.
Every
Friday until I reach my fundraising goal, I will be sharing memories
and stories from my last trip to Kenya in 2009, as well as pictures.
This will give you an idea of some of the things I will be doing
(although I will be doing even more this summer, since I am an intern
now), what I learned, and how powerfully the Lord is moving in Kenya and through
Christian Relief Fund.
Friday Kenya Memory #1:
Journal Entry from July 3, 2009
The Kenyan landscape is mind-boggling. Now I understand why
we could see very few lights in the blackness as we descended into
Nairobi last night. Most of the city consists of little shacks, either
jumbled together in a chaotic mess, or scattered apart from each other,
looking vaguely like spilled Legos. The shacks are all very colorful.
The African landscape is much different than ours, consisting of random
mountains, craters, lakes, grassy plains, and villages. It is
beautiful.
We got off the plane and met with Francis (the director of our
program in Eldoret) and his sweet wife, Consolata. We gathered our
luggage and boarded the matatus (buses) to
go to the Jumbo Valley Hotel. When we finally
arrived, everyone was waiting outside with shouts of, "Karibu! Welcome!" All of the leaders and elders from the CRF Eldoret Projects had come to welcome us to Kenya.
The men all introduced themselves to us, often stopping with emotion as
they thanked us for our service in coming to Kenya. They were so
excited to have us here. They would stand up and sing worship songs,
thanking God for our arrival. It was a sight foreign to my American
eyes to see all of the tall African men,
dressed in nice suits, dancing and clapping and singing joyfully. It
was beautiful.
We all introduced ourselves to the men and to Consolata, and they
introduced themselves in return, speaking in deep voices with thick
accents. They told us stories of the children, the churches, and their
lives. They had a little ceremony to show their appreciation, where
they would rub their hands together and then clap in unison: one, two,
three... one, two, three... one, two, three...
One mzee (old man) named Paul said, "If you forget
everything you learn in Kenya, you must remember this: be yourself. God
has a special mission for you. Your mission is not mine, Milton
Jones's, or anyone else's. Your mission is your own."
These people are so joyful, so happy, and they smile all the
time. They sing proudly, "He has done so much for me that I cannot tell
it all..."
The men talked about how there is hakuna matata, or "no problems"
in Kenya. It brings me back to hardly hours before when Consolata was
explaining to me how Kenya is going through a terrible drought, which
means that even harder times are to come for the many farmers in this
region. "We are crying," Consolata said in her soft, accented voice.
"Africa is crying out for rain. We are crying out to God, and He will
provide for us." Such faith they have here.
The meeting
was longer than American meetings; Africa travels on its own time. We
talked and listened from ten in the morning until nearly three in the
afternoon. However, it was a phenomenal and uplifting experience. God
is moving in this place.
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