It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon here in Kitale, the cotton wool clouds which decorated the vivid blue sky early this morning have been displaced with the menacing appearance of dark gray thunder clouds looming on the horizon. A breeze suddenly stirs the branches in the tall blue gum and blossoming Nandi flame trees, sending bright orange petals spinning to the ground like giant, orange snow flakes. The crack of thunder announces a downpour is imminent. It’s the ideal setting to sit down with my laptop and a hot cup of tea to replay the events of the last couple of weeks and attempt to document them.

Mother and daughter at the spring

I have come to realize that even here I can become too busy with work and the goals I wish to accomplish often blind me to my surroundings. Perhaps more regularly though, I see and experience things which jolt my perspective back into focus. Like the young mother I caught in the corner of my eye, sitting under a shade bush at the side of the dirt road I was driving on, the baby in her arms riddled with the parasites of malaria. When I saw her I braked and reversed back into the cloud of dust I had just created behind me and was selfishly grateful to discover she had medicine for the infant, although it looked so sick perhaps it won’t survive. Then there’s the construction projects and the task of overcoming the seemingly countless obstacles preventing them from coming into being, but they’re importance fades when I discover there is only enough food in store to feed the kids in the school for 5 more days. The lunch of boiled maize is the only meal most of the kids at Runo school will eat each day, next week they will be denied even that.

Last week, during a conversation regarding malaria, I casually asked pastor John, founder of Runo, if he knew of anyone who had lost a child from the disease. I was shocked to learn that the first three children born to he and Monica his wife had died from malaria.

But to focus solely on such things would become overwhelming and thus render one ineffective, so it’s the small differences being made that I must keep in view.

Celebrating the spring opening

This past week marked the official opened of the spring we’ve been developing amidst joyous celebration of the local community where it’s located. Mothers told of their struggle over the years finding clean water, which, now is in abundant supply. Typhoid and other water born diseases have been eradicated for a few.

Spring before

Spring after

At Saint Vincent’s home for handicapped children Gladys is back from her surgery and told me I’ll see her walk in a few weeks and Carolyn now has her sowing machine and a big smile she cannot hide. Eunice somehow has learned to knit although she has no fingers, all because we gave $15 worth of wool to her friend Naomi who subsequently shared her treasure with Eunice.

Carolyn with sowing machine

Visitors from California, South Carolina and Kenya made Brittany’s House their home away from home for a few days. One night last week we had 23 people staying with us and although many of us were meeting for the first time it was like having a big family gathering, just as I had envisioned it when I started the guesthouse almost a year ago. New ideas were shared and friendships formed and I know that for every positive result I see, a thousand more are taking shape which I’ll never know about. I know this is true because this is God’s plan not mine, I just have the privilege to see him at work and even more, to remain in His grasp.