The word's of my friend Samuel, headmaster at Runo school in west Pokot, still ring in my ear. "Mr. Paul" he said "I know of 108 orphaned children who attend this school, I am committed to providing shelter for them before I leave. God will provide a way." I thought he was dreaming, perhaps naïve, but at the very least unrealistic about the scale of his vision. The cost, the obstacles, the challenges, I could think of a dozen reasons why it couldn't be done. Not least of these was the fact that we were working in a community of people who are barely surviving most of the year facing hunger, malaria and all manor of problems on a daily basis, taking it's toll, sapping the life from them. But that was the problem, I was looking at the giants, and my vision had been blurred, I was close to giving up and moving on and I had relayed that message to Samuel. A voice I was listening to was telling me to find a place were I wouldn't have to struggle so much and where I would be appreciated more perhaps. That four letter word 'self' again. But Samuel's vision and passion gripped me that day. I wanted what he had. I wanted faith like that. Here was a guy who had been raised in abject poverty, faced oppression from corrupt leaders, had few opportunities and no resources let alone conveniences or comforts in life. I had had all of that, yet facing immeasurable odds he was the one telling me he was going to care for 108 orphaned children. With my perspective realigned I sat down and whispered a quick prayer, 'tell me how many Lord', then drew up plans for a building that could house 200 kids.

Children at school below tree

Fourteen months later I am in awe at what has happened as I reflect back to that day. Where thorny bush grew on the hostile landscape a freshly plastered building has emerged with it's bright blue corrugated sheet metal roof and red steel doors. It looms large, 180 feet long and 32 feet wide, nestled in the green acacia bush where goats graze beneath the foothills of mount Koe. The number of orphaned kids in the school had swelled to 156 by July this year. Now with a new school year about to begin, 44 more have been identified. That adds up to exactly 200, why am I not surprised, these 'coincidences' happen all the time.

Erecting the steel

Forming concrete slab

The fact that there isn't a single bed, mattress, blanket or mosquito net for these kids to use, let alone food to prepare for them, is almost giving me a sick sense of excitement. God has miraculously provided so far and I have to believe that he didn't bring us this far to leave an empty building in the desert. So in January I shall return to see what comes next. There are no resources but plenty of expectation and a figure in my head of what it will take. One thing I have learned in these situations though is that we must always make the first move if we expect God to act so I booked my ticket back to Kenya in anticipation.

Foundation work

Preparing site for childen's home

First though I want to savor this final week of another year. I try hard now not to take these seasons for granted. I sit upon a bluff overlooking the ocean, the surf pounds the beach below, wave after endless wave, its almost hypnotic, like staring into the flames of a log fire. A flock of pelicans skim over the water in formation, a humming bird darts back and forth on blurred wings sipping nectar from an orange flower. It's a great place to reflect, it's a great place to project. And as I do, the words of another person come to mind. An old white lady who has lived in Africa since she was a child, one of the few remaining who can tell stories first hand of the day's of colonialism and the struggle for independence.  "There're a lot of things wrong in Kenya" she said "but there are a lot of things right if you learn how to look for them". She was picking orchids from a tree in her garden. A Nandi flame tree shed bright orange petals on the green lawn beneath her feet and a crimson bougainvillea climbed a purple jacaranda tree nearby. Silhouetted against the backdrop of mount Elgon stood a lone acacia. She taught me something that day. She wasn't aware of it, but in my mind I had been wrestling again with all the struggles, all the things wrong, the giants, just like I had been when Samuel's words pierced my conscience earlier.

Samuel's dream comes true

Sanuel and I plan a future clinic building

The giants seem bigger when I'm tired, fatigued and isolated. They do for you to. So as another Christmas has passed and another year quickly approaches, I try to remember the lessons my Kenyan friends taught me. And suddenly the future seems exciting, the challenges become adventures, the vision becomes clearer. A yet empty building will soon be full of laughing kids, new school buildings and clinics will be built, water from wells to be drilled will flow, and I know, I shall remain in His grasp.