So here's a hypothetical question for you. If you were on a sinking ship carrying 472 people, of whom 160 were children, and the lifeboat could only carry 40, how would you chose which 40 souls would be saved? I know I would fight for a place for my kids if they were on board and you would to.

Here's a similar question, and although maybe not quite so dramatic, or even life threatening, this one, unfortunately, demanded an answer. If there were 472 children in your local primary school and 160 or so were orphans below the age of 10, how would you chose 40 of those to enter into a safe haven which had recently become available in the form of a children's home, knowing those not chosen would suffer untold hardships and potential abuse?

The school committee wouldn't want any part of it. Think of the backlash from the caretakers of those who were not chosen. The caretakers themselves, usually grandmothers or aunts, couldn't be asked to choose, think of the sharp fallouts between extended families of the successful ones versus those who were rejected. The community would be split asunder. The school principle and his staff couldn't be asked to decide, for they would surely put themselves in danger from an ensuing riot perhaps.

Choose 40

Nor would it be fair to vote by drawing straws, or casting lots. What if there were two chosen from one family and none from another family with multiple candidates. If you really had to come up with a solution you would probably want the most vulnerable of the vulnerable to be given a chance. But how would you identify them not being totally familiar with each ones individual plight?

The answer to such a tough question came in a most amazing way. Who better knows of the harsh circumstances a child has to endure than the children themselves? So it was, those brave little kids took it upon themselves to chose 40 of their own. Adults couldn't do it and elected officials wanted no part, so they themselves identified the most needy amongst them and elected them for sage refuge, many of them doing so by sacrificing their own legitimate claim.

Ann and the kids at Brittany's House

And so, after two years and months of trails and turmoil, bickering and disputes, the children's home at Runo primary school received its initial intake. That is, if you don't count the false start we had in February when we accepted 200 children right out of the starting blocks and in so doing unleashed all manner of unforeseen problems. You may remember from previous tales I've told on these pages that the home was closed due to threats from an unsavory bunch who discovered the children, newly housed in their humble abode, were no longer available for their exploit or pleasure. This first affront had appeared within days of the 'grand opening' and others followed. But perseverance shall prevail, and I believe this time it has. Blessings come in the most surprising ways. I wonder how many we miss in our busyness. I'm glad I didn't miss the one I'm about to share. I watched three year old Brittany walking around the courtyard in large circles at Brittany's House a couple of days ago. She was holding a pair of old reading glasses with lenses as big as beer bottle bottoms to her eyes as she kicked out first one foot then the other as if doing a sort of goosestep march. Of course her tiny purple flowery flip-flops were on the wrong feet. Apparently the magnifying effect on her outstretched foot was quite fascinating since she continued her little game for several minutes having no idea I was there watching. Then I noticed her chanting something which sounded like 'bit no, how got, bit no, how got, bit no, how got'. "What in the world is she saying", I asked Ann as she came around the corner of the hallway. Ann laughed out loud. "She's saying her name, Brittney Holgate". But of course, I knew that.

Brittany Holgate

Brittany is about to get a lot of visitors come to her house next week. Actually there will be 28 and they will not exactly be visitors but residents because Brittany's House will become an orphanage as of October 25th. The transition took place when I recently agreed to sub-lease the property to Seeds Ministries. It's going to be a great day for a lot of kids, many of whom have beaten massive odds and experienced events and losses no child should be subject to. I just couldn't say no when I was approached. Ann and her two children along with her two nieces and of course Brittany, will continue to live there and so there will be 33 kids in all. That's going to be a lot of noise.

Sadly though, on the same day I made the deal, Amos, the young boy from Pokot who had survived cancer didn't come home from school that evening. An alert was put out and a police report made but two days later I received a call informing me Amos had shown up back in his native village of Runo in west Pokot. He had spent two days on his own traveling in dangerous countryside to reach there. I haven't had chance to see him yet but I guess the burden of missing family ties had finally become too much and he had to return home to the harsh environment from where he was brought four years ago. Maybe there's a name for some psychological syndrome Amos has endured which brought him to that place where he felt compelled to make that perilous choice, I don't know, but if so there was not a hint of dissatisfaction in his demeanor which might have tipped us off. Indeed, he was the happy go lucky, smiling, number one in my class at school, Amos. I know we are all relieved to find out he is well and I pray he remains so, but we all miss him. Amos, you warmed the hearts of a lot of visitors at Brittany's House, we have fond memories and you will be in our prayers.

Amos

Many of you have fond memories of times past when you have stayed with us at Brittany's House, the guesthouse. Don't be too disappointed though if you have had thoughts of returning. I now have a new home, which is equally inviting with beautiful gardens and lots of room for visitors. It's definitely not a step backwards. So another week has come and gone. As I write the sun is setting behind Mount Elgon to the west. No bright colors tonight but a thousand shades of gray. Clouds and mist mingle with mountain silhouette and reflect my mood. Change is good, but not easy. It sounds trite but life really is like a road we travel. But as the shades of gray turn darker and day fades to dusk, so the orange glows of a new morning glow ever brighter somewhere else. A new day, full of promise and adventure awaits. What an awesome privilege, to remain in His grasp.