These past couple weeks have been difficult.
My heart is heavy with memories and thoughts of home and with the overwhelming need that I am surrounded by daily here in Kenya.
But throughout these struggles God has been with me, constantly reminding me why I am here, and blessing me with moments of complete joy.
It’s the moment when we are walking through pouring rain down a dirt road and find shelter in a empty home. Where I sit in the corner next to eleven year old Ruth, who braids my hair into three chunky braids while she sings and worships, “Our God is greater, our God is stronger, God you are higher than any other - our God is healer, awesome in power, our God...” It’s when we have to enter the rain again; Ruth and I walking hand in hand down the muddy path and she looks up to me and says, “I will never, ever forget you, Jamie.”
It’s the moment when I am walking through the hospital corridors and see Alex, who greets me with the world’s most sincere and genuine smile, despite not having half of his face. And it’s the moment when I get to sit with this incredibly strong eight-year-old boy and trace our handprints and draw lions (simbas) and cats (pakas) and giraffes (twigas).
It’s the moment when we are passing out bags of corn flour, beans, and lard to the hungry. And four-year-old Lucia, who speaks no english, begs to be spun in the air, chased around the trees, and held in my arms.
It’s the moment of singing songs to the mothers and their babies in the pediatrics ward of the hospital and watching them clap and smile and ask us again to sing another song.
It’s moments like these when I am reminded that I am here for a reason, that God is using me in amazing ways, and that I should not lose heart.
“Therefore do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.” (2 Corinthians 4:16-17)