Since I've Landed...by Iva Robinett

I am mentally and spiritually many more miles (kilometers) ahead of a “tourist.”  The Tree of Lives graciously provides the opportunity to link lives that are geographically and culturally diverse.  It is a vision trip about being and learning.  It is not a trip about, “fixing,” what could be considered an uncomfortable existence by most American standards.

There are many more lives here touched by the stigma and ravages of HIV/AIDS (more recently cancer) and material poverty.  The statistics are staggering—over 15 x’s that of North and South America.  I had to ask myself, “What is the glue that holds this vibrant culture together?  What gives an African a, seemingly, greater capacity to deal with this plague of death and dying of their young, yet have the capacity to be joyful, gentle and patiently accepting?”

When Lillian, the pastoral counselor, was asked this question, she answered, “the sense of community and faith.”  The young mother Ann she counseled this morning, who tragically lost both her newborn twins over the last four days, was immediately grieving over the community’s loss, not her loss.  The death of the young man Lawrence was the Nazareth and Holy Family Center’s loss. 

Death is the one indisputable fact of life that binds all of humanity.  Africans embrace the belief not only in community to ease this burden but in their faith in the resurrection and the assurance of God’s love.  A bible verse hanging in Lillian’s office is Matthew 5:3-11, with Be Happy Always, next to it.  It may not be a Westerner’s interpretation.  Another verse was, “ God gives people what they need—poverty that I might be wise.” 

Africans embrace the agony and ecstasy of life.  Or, as Pastor Jim is helping us Americans to see,  despite the agony, they are really LIVING life. 

The Africans are praying for you.

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I Pray a Blessing on You by Valena Hoy

“…I pray a blessing on you and your family.”

The riches and abundance of God’s Kingdom are found in surprising places.  I was made rich today through the poorest woman I have ever had the pleasure of visiting.  Her name is Lois.

When Lois saw Alice (a staff member at Holy Family Center) and me she immediately stood up from her dinner preparations and invited us into her home, a humble shack with outside walls and roof made of corrugated tin. 

We walked through the entrance of her home and took our seats in one of the cleanest dirt floor rooms I have ever seen. We barely fit into the space and the smell of smoke from the cooking fire through the feedbag walls fragranced the air.

Lois proceeded to share that her 14-year-old son has been helping her remember to take her HIV and TB medications.  She expressed how blessed she was to have such wonderful support from her family.  Even though I only understood what Alice translated, the gentle tone of Lois’ voice and humble presence captured my heart. 

We encouraged Lois to continue her faithful regime of medication along with a well balanced diet so that she would stay strong and less vulnerable to infections and disease.  As I sat in her simple and modest home, I was overwhelmed with gratitude to experience the richness in Lois’ life.  

As our time with her came to a close, I prayed for Lois and her family.  When I finished, Lois began talking again and Alice translated.  Lois said, “I thank you so very much for coming, I pray a blessing on you and your family.” 

As she spoke I felt an unexpected shower of blessing as I received riches beyond measure from a sister in Christ, who owns so little but lives abundantly in humility and love.

My cup overflows.

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Taking Off My Shoes by Jeanne Perin

“ How can you walk a mile in someone else’s shoes unless 

you take your own shoes off?”

This question posed and inspired by Pastor Jim from the book, Walk a Mile in My Shoes by Trevor Hudson, has been going through my head since arriving in Kenya Monday morning. In that night’s devotion, Jim suggested that to get the most from our pilgrimage, we should take daily time to reflect and journal, describing the new experiences and asking questions of ourselves that bubble up. The one that came to me almost immediately after our evening was, “How do I take off my own shoes?” Literally, of course, it’s simple, but what does it mean spiritually, in the context in which I am now? How do I take off my own shoes and walk in the shoes of these beautiful people that God loves the same as he loves me? What can I do to enable relationship that is both healthy and helpfully compassionate?

The answer began to take shape in light of the contrasts between my own and the Kenyan culture when frustration and humility arose as I was confronted with my own brokenness at the same time as seeing the varied brokenness in this country.

Since, to put it mildly, I don’t have very pretty feet, taking off my  own shoes  spiritually and in this place means exposing something or things of myself that I don’t like. There are several that have become apparent in the travel and early days here.

First, the 36 hours on planes and in airports coming here showed me how wedded I am to the comfort and self-control of my culture. Hours spent sitting cramped in the economy section of four different airplanes, cold water showers after arriving, lost luggage, muddy red clay on my shoes, all jolted me into recognition of this dependence.

Being quick to judge is another failing of mine that reared its ugly head in these first days. Betty, my travel companion, and I were able to see the preemies at Nazareth Hospital in the complex where we’re staying. Two moms were there holding their newborns. Purity was joyfully welcoming her new baby, while Lois, sitting with one baby in her arms and its twin in the nearby incubator, looked a bit strained and tired.

Not thinking anything of it, I spoke to both and encouraged them about the new development in their lives, remembering the joy I felt when Dave’s and my own daughters were born. Later, during that evening’s devotion when I was describing our visit to the team, it came as a shock to me when Jim told us that twins born in Kenya, especially in rural areas where we are, are considered a curse and in years past, were not allowed to live. Although these babies won’t be killed, they face a future stigma because of superstition.

There’s plenty more evidence of my own brokenness, but these dominate in the current circumstances and are sufficient to pull me out of any feelings of superiority or tendencies to patronize.  In the remaining week and a half, I will strive, with God’s faithful help, to just be here as the broken person I am, walking in God’s love and grace, praying for him to show me how best to relate and asking Him how best to continue after the trip is over, to walk gracefully with these people and the many others Tree of Lives seeks to serve.


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Go Fly a Kite by Don Johnston

It is so nice being back in Kenya.  Last year I spent a lot of time with the school here called the Alamono School.  I’ve never seen such motivation to learn.  Last year my wife Cheryll and I were teaching 3rd grade when lunchtime was announced.  Lunch is usually the only meal that these kids get in a day.  The whole class refused to go to lunch because they wanted to learn more.  We had to walk out of the class to get them to go to lunch after several extensions of the lesson.  You can imagine how endearing these students are to us.  

We stopped over during their lunch on Monday.  We were mobbed.  I felt like a rock star with everyone calling our names and wanting to shake our hand.  One student wanted to show me a kit that he made.  (Insert photo of a student with a kite).  Before long we had 7 students flying home made kites.  

Steve Corbett and Brian Fikkert talk in their book When Helping Hurts that the Western notions of poverty is that it’s about lack of money or possessions.  I know I frequently describe the people here to others back home by what they don’t have (lack of toilets, running water, and electricity).   Corbett and Fikkert say that poverty is really about not having choices to affect one’s life.  I worry about the future of these kids.  Will they have choices to realize their potential or will they be stuck in a poverty cycle like their parents with having to work in the tea fields for $1.25 a day.   

These kids have two things that can equip them to break this poverty cycle here in Kenya… education and their faith.  I think I'll go back tomorrow and do my own kite design with them.  I saw some bubble wrap laying around that could make a great kite.

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Brian by Sally I'Anson

I learned about Brian soon after my arrival. A family member had brought him to the hospital a few days earlier and the doctors did not think he would survive more than 3-5 days. He looked to be roughly 10 or 11 years old and suffering from AIDS tuberculosis. Before our dinner I went over to the pediatric unit to introduce myself and make a pipe cleaner and bead bracelet with him. He was lying in bed with a black knit cap on and pajamas with grey bib ski overalls on top. Even with all of his clothing he was painfully emaciated. He had been having trouble keeping his AIDS medication down. However, her had been able to eat a hardboiled egg for dinner so we were both happy about that! I cried myself to sleep that night praying Brian would be alive the next morning. He was! I made a silly red heart out of construction paper and wrote “God Loves You” on the inside along with a picture of a cross and some stickers. We taped it over his bed where he could see it. The next morning I went over to see Brian and we did a Noah’s Ark puzzle and made a leather bracelet with plastic beads made from drinking straws and he showed me a picture he had made for me of a lake and dock located near his home. Later that morning when we went on rounds with the pastoral counselors in the pediatric unit Brian’s bed was empty. I felt bereft and worried that he had required more medical attention and had been moved or worse yet, “gone on to glory”. The student nurses quickly assured me that he was discharged to go home with his father and they were headed over to the Holy Family Center. He was there sitting quietly on a bench while the staff was doing paperwork with the father.  We sat there for a minute together then he followed me around the circle to say “good bye”. We hugged and had our picture taken together.

As I write this I continue to weep for Brian and know that it is not only the jet lag that has kept me from sleeping since I arrived. Despite his infections and frailty, I am overwhelmed with a desire to cuddle and hold Brian in my arms and whisper words of encouragement and hope and share my love and God’s love with him. I am afraid he will be cold or hungry at home without me. Having only known him for three days, I miss him terribly and pray for his healing and peace.

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My Heroes by Rudy Miller

It’s October….World Series time in the States. In Kenya sport fans are focused on Soccer or the Rugby World Cup. Yet all sport fans seem to have their heroes.  Although some for only a season.

As yesterday evolved at Nazareth Hospital, God continued to bring heroes into my path. I have known Sister Alphena for several years. She is the administrative nurse at Nazareth Hospital. Yesterday she organized a medical camp for 300 patients at the Riuru Clinic. With a gentle spirit yet a firm grasp on a medical crew of 15 Alphena made each patient comfortable. From diagnoses of Typhoid Fever to Diabetes, I saw the respect each patient received.

Michael stopped by our home to speak with Pastor Jim and myself. Michael is the director of HFC and has the ultimate responsibility for 4200 HIV/AIDS patients and a medical staff of over 50. Michael explains that medical oversight is important, “but each patient needs to realize your compassionate caring for their health and that of their family.”

Teacher Matrina was on her way home from the Allamano School. Her day was finished yet she wanted to be certain her female students received the reusable feminine hygiene product and soap brought by the visitors. Yet, her greatest concern was for the spiritual well being of her students. She prayed that each student might have a better understanding of their relationship with other and with God. Right on….Matrina.

We ended our day with Alice. At the age of 14 Alice has never had a complete book to read….not one. Yesterday we gave her a 105 page book .…Tales of Africa. She finished it in one day and described, accurately, what she had read. Tonight she borrowed her second book, Black Beauty, and offered to be responsible for distributing and collecting three other books to several children. A librarian in a town without a library?

I realize the world may never cheer for the Teacher Matrinas or the Alices of Kenya, yet God reminds me daily that these folks will still be striving to complete their calling long after the cameras and visitors depart. They are my Heroes.  



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Where Are You by Iva Robinett

Pastor Jim wanted his newly arrived pilgrims to ponder the first question of the bible--
Where are you? Today I am in Kenya at Nazareth Hospital because there is a time and season for all things.  After today, I know it is time for me to be here.  What a spectacular setting for God’s work!  Kenya is astounding beauty of a bountiful nature against the back drop of the astounding poverty of physical and social needs.  But, after spending just one day at the hospital, no poverty of spirit or lack of joy was shown by the patients and staff.

Many thanks to Lolleen, a beautiful 25-year-old dietitian, who was this initiate’s first-day guide.  She graciously gave me every opportunity to speak to patients.  She interpreted in Swahili for those who did not understand my English—often the 3^rd language for most. 

Many thanks to Michael.  who stood up in front of the diabetes clinic and confidently translated information provided on diet, medication and foot care.  He was complimented for presenting like a teacher.  He then said he was a teacher.

Many thanks to Samuel, a newly diagnosed young man with type 1 diabetes. He is an orphan, works and studies, and now he is learning how to give himself two injections of insulin.  He credited his courage and “fortunate circumstances,” towards his faith in God.

Many thanks to the HIV(+) mothers, who showed the fortitude to get tested for a healthy baby, despite facing the stigma of being positive and possibly losing an HIV(-) husband.  They say they are living “positively,” controlling a chronic disease.  Say prayers for Elizabeth and baby, who is feeling guilty for not getting tested soon enough to prevent probable transmission to her 4-day old infant.

Where am I?  Tomorrow will be another answer.


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