There is a time for everything ...

A verse of the Christian Bible says: “There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven” (Ecclesiastes 3:1).  In this book of wisdom literature, the writer - a teacher and son of King David - laments over the purpose of life, crying out “meaningless!”  He asks questions like: “what does man gain from all his labour? Is there anything of which one can say: ‘Look! This is something new’? It was here already, long ago, before our time.”  In his quest for purpose, he questions whether wisdom, pleasure, friendship, riches, or our toil is worth anything in the end.  Like millions more, this author probes the point of our existence. If you read the entire book though, the bemoaning teacher intermittently releases an air of breakthrough and wonder - even when we do not understand all that happens.  From the outset, the poet refers to the creator, God, and amid his dirge, he declares God “has made all things beautiful in its time” (Ecclesiastes 3:11). I wonder what happened to lead him to such a conclusion? Was it a crisis or simply a gradual revelation? This blog isn’t a Bible study so I will let that question hover.  Perhaps, in the end, the how isn’t what matters.


What I think is this. “A time for everything” doesn’t necessarily reveal the meaning for everything but it can set in place a sense of life’s pattern or formation. It is our role to discover life’s meaning within it - beginning with “a time to be born and a time to die.” A start and an ending.  Our beginnings often bring us promise, the hope of what can be – a building project, a new job, travel, a baby born. The dawning conjures happy possibilities and we find meaning in what it will look like. It’s the takeoff. Our ‘endings’ bring other emotions. When a project is finished, a trip concluded or a retirement celebrated, there may be great satisfaction AND there might also be the lament of “I should have …”  


The most difficult ending for most of us is death, that moment when we cannot escape the truth that there is “a time to die.” Death is a piece of the pattern in life we sometimes try to resist, ignore, or even resent, understandably so. It is often cloaked in sadness, stress, questions and torment – particularly when death, in our minds, comes prematurely. We don’t like death. We struggle with what to do with our sadness. We describe it as a “hole in the heart”.  Through hugs, tears, and conversations everyone is trying to ‘say the right thing’ to find comfort from each other, AND through the endless moments of internal silence, we admittedly or subconsciously ask - where is the meaning?


I was recently given a book called “The Prophet” by Kahlil Gibran, a famous work of spiritual fiction in the 20^th century, first published in 1923.  A poet, philosopher, and artist from Lebanon, Kahlil’s writing is based on his experience as an immigrant to America, inspiring many who feel “adrift in a world in flux”. I read that as “many looking for meaning in life”. The fictional story is about a man named Almustafa who spent 12 years living on an island and had always longed to return to his birthplace. On the day he is finally able to set sail for his homeland, his emotions surprise him. He is thrilled with his dream come true of ‘going home’, elated to travel the seas to the place he had longed for. Yet as he climbed the hill to board the vessel, he is acutely aware of the pain of departure, a stinging ache from leaving the people who had so intimately filled his heart and made his life a burning flame. He was met by a large crowd of islanders, equally torn that he was leaving them.  Their final cry was a request for Almustafa to give them one more gift - share his wisdom about the big questions of life – love, family, work, and death – which he did - his last offering to the people he loved.


Intrigued by his artistic prose, I found several pearls in Kahlil’s writing, including his reflection on sorrow. He says this: “When you are sorrowful, look again into your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.” Think about it. Joy and sorrow are intermingled in our lives. They rise and fall like tides of the same ocean and are combined like inseparable grains of sand. If we did not have so much joy, we might not have so much sorrow. If we did not cherish those we love so much we would not weep so desperately when they are gone. While we would not choose the sorrow of departure, we would not want to have lived without the joy. “The selfsame well from which your laughter rises is often time filled with tears.  Love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation” (Kahlil).  


In the story of Almustafa, he left the people cherishing what the one they loved had spoken to them when he left and also what he had not spoken but simply showed them.  This would be the gift they would pass on to their children and their children’s children so that “it shall not perish” (Kahlil). In the broken heartedness of farewell is the gratitude of having loved one whose imprint will remain.


“He makes everything beautiful in its time.” The Creator


Written in honuor and memory of my brother-in-law, Dennis

What do you see?

The age of information technology has many advantages for us – increased knowledge, global neighbours, instant communication, virtual connectivity, enlarged social justice awareness, and video imaging (wonderful when families are continents apart) are all very beneficial. It’s amazing (even mind boggling) how IT has advanced and evolved to where we literally can no longer do without it for so much.  We now live with the Gen-Z people group (ages 4-24) who will never know a world without technology.  In the midst of all that is so great about IT, adversely, there is at least one potentially unfavourable effect - what it does to our posture. Our heads are down and our shoulders slumped (something I don’t need as mine tend to be rounded anyway) as we spend so many hours a day with a downward bodily stance.  This physical position probably translates into more than just poor posture too. It can decrease good social skills and even increase the risk of injury or worse if, for example, we are texting or video calling while driving.  

This past weekend while we were travelling I was thinking about this. I don’t drive in Kenya (a little too nervous of the traffic here). So when we go long distances, I tend to be on my mobile devices – cell phone, iPad, or computer – especially when we are going to places we have often been and I’ve seen lots of the scenery already.  I consider it a good use of time to use my modern-day tools for research, messaging family and friends, or writing.  Occasionally (like yesterday) it dawns on me that while I am consumed with my devices, I’m at risk of missing beauty, inspiration, and learning from what is happening naturally all around me AND I shouldn’t assume that I have seen it all.

On Sunday morning we had a bit of a long drive to our place of worship. It was a very interior church in Busia county, close to the Uganda border. Instead of putting my head down and slumping my shoulders with my cell phone or iPad, I chose to leave my technology tools (aka modern-day ‘toys’) and let myself be captivated by the rich sights and sounds that fill the rural roadways and villages in this country. Here’s what I saw lots of:   smiles / resilience / improvising / community networking / resourcefulness / families working together / people walking, laughing, chatting, connecting / women washing laundry on the rocks and drying it on the grass / families cooking outside / cows, goats, chickens and more cows, goats, chickens / children skipping / mud hut homes / fruitful trees / groups gathering for worship in half constructed buildings / farming – hard labor – digging, tilling, weeding, seeding, harvesting / empty school grounds waiting for the return of weekday activity / shops buzzing / children and women fetching water / tree shade / women carrying bunches of bananas on their head / tons of vegetable stands with fresh bright red tomatoes, green cabbages, yellow corn, and red onions / so many people outside – hundreds / bicycles and motorbikes transporting goods / men chopping firewood / and friendly little ones waving their hands at the sight of the muzungu!

What did I see? I saw signs of a world that isn’t perfect but laced with many hints of what God intended. I saw glimpses of God’s Kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. It isn’t faultless or impeccable – someday it will be – but it is beautiful.  And I am convinced that I would serve myself best if I keep more alert to the everyday glimpses of love, hope, joy and peace that could potentially pass me by if I stop looking. I don’t want to miss what God so lovingly and painstakingly created or ignore the signs of his love and grace in the people, places, and provisions immediately before me.

I know there is much more going on ‘right in front of me’ than what I see on a drive by on a Sunday morning. I need to not only see but stop and understand the ever revolving and emerging world which maintains tremendous beauty AND amplifies incredible diversity and change. The vision of what God wants me (us) to see will likely happen best if we keep focused on what is around us - the big and the small - as well as on the Creator who made it all possible. 

I was reminded this morning when reading Ted Loder’s book “Guerillas of Grace – Prayers for the Battle” how Jesus saw signs of his Father’s Kingdom in the tiniest things and most unlikely people – in salt and yeast, pearls and seeds, travelers and tax collectors, sowers and harlots, foreigners and fishermen. Jesus had the vision I long for.  I need to keep my head up and my shoulders un-slumped (is that even a word?) more often so that I don’t miss the beauty, wonder, goodness and incredible possibilities in normal everyday life no matter where I live.  For perhaps it is in seeing this I might experience another part of Ted Loder’s prayer: “the grace of what is possible for me to be, to do, to give, to receive, that I may miss neither my neighbour’s gift nor my enemy’s need.”

I am very thankful for modern-day technology AND I hope it never replaces my God-given sight.

What do you see?

Out with the old ... in with the new?

On May 31, the Central Bank of Kenya (CBK) issued new currency notes - the first change of denominations since 1979. The change was made to help fight money laundering and reduce incidents of counterfeit, part of the President’s commitment to “stamp out corruption.”  The notes have been introduced gradually over the past three months and as of October 01, some of the old Kenyan shillings notes will be retired.

Not surprisingly, the change elicited public criticism. CBK was responsible to ensure a sufficient distribution to local financial institutions and there is now a shortage of the notes already.  Some Kenyans were upset over the design which includes a photo of Kenya’s first President, Jomo Kenyatta, stating that “money should not feature a portrait of an individual.” Others backed the choice as a sign of respect for the country’s founding father. Human Rights activists argued that there was a lack of public participation in designing the notes.  

As the new notes trickle into the everyday market, people are recognizing what differentiates the new from the old.  One appealing feature is how life in Kenya is identified on the bills – agriculture, green energy, social services, tourism, and government.  Enhanced security features are ensuring authenticity. Hold up a new note to the light and from both sides, you will see a watermark of a perfect lion’s head, the CBK text, and the value of the banknote.  Touch the edge of the notes for barcodes (50 = 1 bar; 100 = 2 bars, etc.). They are both seen and felt, intentionally included this way for visually impaired consumers.  Distinguishing what is fake from what is genuine is the goal. 

The response to this currency conversion confirms that change is a process.  Change comes in varying ways. Sometimes it has minimal consequences, a temporary irritant. Other times, it is life-altering. Sometimes it’s inevitable, other times unexpected.  Exchanging what has ‘always been’ for something different can naturally trigger resistance, worry, and chaos.  Change happens in the places closest to us like our family, work, social connections, and community as well as in broader spheres like world economics, technology, and global infrastructures.  We have all seen changes in education, government, healthcare, and spiritual formation networks.  Here’s a thought - change is consistent.  Sounds like an oxymoron, yet it’s true.  

I had a short conversation with a local educator recently. It was an impromptu chat. While I was visiting some officers in their home, this gentleman, one of their church members, came into the house.  I can’t quite remember how the conversation began but very quickly he was talking about change. To my surprise, he spoke of how ‘his country’ has moved away from ‘what was’ to ‘what is’ at a rapid rate and he was a little apprehensive.  He spoke of how Kenyans are becoming much more individualistic and a lot less community-minded - a value which has long been part of their heritage.  He shared his deep concern with seeing so many parents giving their children mobile devices to use as ‘baby sitters’ instead of being fully present with the little ones.  It struck me in that moment how universal many changes are – even when pace and context differs.  I responded to the gentleman with how I still see much more community based living here than in my Western homeland. But for this man, the change is real and creating anxiety for him. Interestingly, this conversation happened in an officer’s house where the door is always open.

Sometimes we approach or evaluate change by putting it into two categories – success or failure, good or bad – but I’m not convinced it is that easy. Life is too complex to label something so commonplace by compartmentalizing it. I think it may be much more “grey” than black & white. In my opinion, change is seldom an “either/or” of winning or losing. It is more likely to land inside a “BOTH/AND.”  I guess the question is how do we maneuver through our changes, embrace what is in front of us, and keep well through the process.  

Here in Kenya, we watch people every day persevere in less than ideal situations and sometimes with limited resources AND we see resilience - in the face of change.  While the country moves forward with changes that can be ‘for the good of the whole’, the adjustments have had consequences. One example is road construction.  It is improving traffic safety and transportation accessibility increasing economic productivity and development, which is great.  AND in the midst of that, some people have been displaced from their homes, left stranded with no compensation – that’s tough.   Then there are large supermarkets coming to the bigger rural towns.  Consumers benefit from increased conveniences and more choices AND local small businesses (markets) suffer from up-scale competitors. 

These practical examples remind me of other significant paradigm shifts. What about the change we see in the emerging younger generation?  Young adults are stepping forward in various sectors of life (family, social networks, work, church, etc.) and offering a different perspective (something new) in light of ever-changing moral and intellectual world views?  This change could, for many, include some real adjusting to fresh ideas resulting in BOTH losses and gains.  (I encourage you to follow General Brian Peddle’s most recent devotional series called Millennials).  Or what about when there are changes to the culture which have been deeply embedded for generations.  How do we maintain positive regard for what has been AND move forward to creatively discern what is needed for the days ahead? I believe we need much compassion, wisdom, integrity, and mutual support from one another.

How we navigate change, how well we manage to move through the chaos, depends much on the situation and personal cost.  Sometimes lack of communication complicates a turbulent time or maybe there is a lack of resources or skills needed (personal or professional). Maybe there are barriers which are higher to overcome then we realized and we need to be patient with ourselves in the change process. Maybe there is a deep need for greater loyalty and the ‘helping hand’ of people we can trust AND the freedom for open dialogue.  This reminds me of something critical in all of this.  We are formed best in relationships and moving toward one another in times of change can be a healthy way of being, making us even stronger than we thought we could be. 

For me, what matters most through change is that we search deep within to find what grounds us. What are the unchanging values that will sustain us? AND what supports will we purposefully create and hold to more tightly as we find our way?

I realize in closing this blog the example of introducing new Kenyan notes may not be as drastic as other life changes. It did, however, bring to my mind the universal truth that few things in life remain the same. AND that “out with the old… in with the new” is not simple. It can be tangled, many-sided and puzzling like a spider’s three-dimensional cobweb. AND in its midst, a discovery of beauty, strength, and light just might arise.

As I often do, I let someone else’s Word be the best and final say on this topic:  “But whatever is good and perfect comes to us from God, the Creator of all light, and He shines forever without change.” (James 1:17, TLB) Thank goodness!!  

Their names are ...

Their names are Rukia (24 years old) and Nurr (20 years old).  They went to school and had hopes and dreams, just like many other girls.  Among their ambitions was earning a living to help support their families – especially their moms. One day someone offered them an opportunity in another country – "a steady job with reasonable wages working as house girls" was the promise.  The offer was exciting. It wouldn’t be forever.  They would work hard, then come back and help their Mamas. I met these two beautiful young ladies a couple weeks ago. They did go away and they did return, both disillusioned and damaged.

Let me share Rukia’s story in her own words: 

I dropped out of school in Form three (grade 11) due to lack of school fees.  A couple years later, one of the community members (known to us) connected me to a job in Jordan.  I worked for two years with no communication back home and no salary.  My boss used to tell me that he is sending my salary home to my mother. I came to realize that it was a lie when I demanded to see the transactions to confirm if my parents really received the money.  They had not.  When I finally requested my boss allow me to visit my people back home when the contract had terminated, he took my passport and kept it and started mistreating me by beating me.  I used to sleep on the floor without a blanket, no food and isolated from other family members.  One day I woke up and refused to work.  In order to be allowed to go back home, they locked me in a room and beat me up which ended up damaging my brain.  He then sent me away and showed me the direction to the embassy.  While at the embassy, I found another lady who was going back to Kenya (Nairobi). She was asked to help me trace the agent from Nairobi to help me get back home to Bungoma but while in Nairobi, I was taken to Qatar where things got even worse. There was no food and no salary.  I worked for two months hoping to get some pay but all was in vain until one of the workers sympathized with me and deported me back to Kenya.  I was picked up by my aunt in Nairobi and taken back to Bungoma.  Due to the frustration and harassment I experienced, my brain was damaged and I am still on medication.  If given a chance to go outside the country again, I cannot accept and I always discourage youths from going to work outside Kenya.

When I met Rukia, she had been back in Bungoma for over a year. She just had a baby who was born premature.  She is really trying to get her life back together but it is not an easy road.  Her story is similar to Nurr’s who worked in Qatar for 9 months.  Nurr also suffered deep mental anguish and is now struggling to go outside her mother’s house.

In November, 2018, with the help of another Salvation Army territory, the Kenya West Women’s Ministry and Projects departments engaged in an Anti-Human Trafficking (AHT) project, now known as “Oyana” (Swahilli for ‘inspire and uplift’). The goal of the project is to help decrease human trafficking incidences and reduce the vulnerabilities of at-risk people in communities through raising awareness, promoting greater access to preventative and restorative services and strengthening the AHT networks and referral systems. The project is now active in 3 divisions under the direction of Major Margaret Njeri.  Several other employees, including on the ground field coordinators, are part of the team.  It was during a recent visit to the Bungoma division that I met Rukia and Nurr.

Purity, our field coordinator in that area, has built a supportive relationship with Rukia over the past few months. She told Rukia I was in the area and just wanted to say hello. We found Rukia visiting her mom whose one room flat is small but clean. Mom is sitting outside operating her tiny market.   As we chat with Rukia, I can tell that a growing trust has emerged with Purity.  Rukia sits on the floor in front of us and tells us about the baby who’s doing well now. She assures Purity she is taking her medication.  The scars from her out-of-the-country work life (what she describes as brain damage) has resulted in some mental health problems that need treatment.  Purity reminds Rukia of the Community Youth Group which meets every Friday and how they are starting some training on catering skills. Rukia is eager to attend.  My visit is short but I’m so thankful for the few brief moments to interact with this beautiful girl.  She is shy but friendly. Her eyes are sad.  I sense her dignity feels broken as she takes my hand when I offer to pray with her. Purity is hopeful that Rukia will eventually heal from her trauma and she’s committed to working with her for the long haul.

When we get to Nurr’s house, the story is a little different. We meet her Mom just outside the small rental compound. Her name is Yasmin. Purity has been here several times and tells me how Yasmin cries so often over her daughter.  Nurr had been the main bread winner for the family before she was lured away.  Now, the family feels hopeless because Nurr is not the same person she was a year ago.   We go inside to a small dark room. When Purity enquires about Nurr, her Mom goes into the next room and returns to say Nurr is in bed (though it’s mid-afternoon) but she will get up. Purity knows that unlike Rukia, Nurr is very withdrawn and has yet to speak to her. Purity has told me not to expect any conversation.  Nurr comes out of the room dressed in her Muslim head gear and long dress. She smiles and whispers a slight “hi”. Purity is quite happy since this is a big improvement since her last visit. Nurr takes a laundry tub and begins to wash a few articles of clothes just outside where we are sitting, with her back to us. We spend a few moments talking to Yasmin until her other daughter, Leila, comes by. I learn that Leila is 19 and hasn’t been to school since leaving Form 2 (grade 10) because there isn’t money for school fees and now her Mom also wants her to stay home with Nurr.  While the family is Muslim, the Mom doesn’t hesitate to let me pray with them and comments “the Christians pray for us too.”

These young women have been wounded by circumstances.  Like millions of others around the world, real stories are rising from the ashes of deception, control and abuse of power.  Rukia and Nurr know firsthand what it is to be mistreated in ways that now leave them struggling to re-find their value. They were traded for someone else’s benefit. Their rights were violated and now they are at risk for repetitive incidents. The efforts being made here are part of a worldwide attempt to fight this social evil, to help decrease such instances, and take action in providing restorative measures  to help restore broken self-worth.  The Oyana project includes partnerships with schools, health providers, social services, churches, and government officials. It’s only just begun AND poly, poly (Swahili for ‘slowly, slowly’) we believe a difference can be made.

I called this blog “Their names are …” because I believe people should not have labels.  When writing reports for the project, the term ‘survivors’ was used as a way to refer to any person (like Rukia and Nurr) who were victims of trafficking in some form. Even children were identified with this tag. During our visit to Bungoma, we talked about making a change to “people who have survived being trafficked”.  I am a strong proponent of identifying a person as a person – they have a name. They are not their circumstance.  Their names are …

Human trafficking is evil and it is a crime. Around the world, it is thought to be one of the fastest growing criminal activities. It can show up as forced labour, sexual slavery, commercial sexual exploitation or coercion, and even as human organ extractions.  It is a condemnation of any person’s human rights and it can happen anytime and anywhere.  We may not be able to fix this problem globally but we must not remain silent or complacent when any opportunity for intervention comes our way.

As Christians, let’s join the fight. Let’s find any way we can to help support, take action, and pray for “freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners.” (Isaiah 61). 

Purity gives Rukia a small gift for the baby

Major Margaret and Purity offer some oil and flour to Nurr's mom to encourage her. 

Just a visitor ...

Just a visitor …

I’m currently reading Alicia Elliott’s book, “A mind spread out on the Ground”.  An interesting perspective on the treatment of Native people in North America.   A paragraph in the book caught my attention today.  “In Leslie Jamison’s essay “Fog Count”, she goes to visit a friend in prison, and while there, realizes her experience of the prison as a visitor will never be the same as his as an inmate: “The truth is we never occupied the same space. A space isn’t the same for a person who has chosen to be there and a person who hasn’t.” Jamison can ask as many probing questions as she wants, can write down all the details, but she will always, in effect, be a tourist in that space because she can always choose to leave.”

Morris and I know we are visitors in Kenya.  We work and live side by side with indigenous Kenyans every day, yet we never occupy their space in the same way. Nowhere is this more evident than in Turkana.  Bordering South Sudan, Uganda, and Ethiopia, it is the hottest and most barren, thirsty area in our region. We had the privilege of being there again recently for our third visit.  Our Secretary for Program, Lieut. Colonel John Olewa, accompanied us and, despite his fear of flying, he was so excited because it is his first trip to Turkana, though he retires at the end of this year. 

Flying into Lodwar, the central township, we see how the long periods of drought dehydrate the land and the rivers, leaving miles and miles of scorched terrain. (Ironically, the long-awaited rains also come in extremes, often causes flooding.)  Either way, people struggle to sustain their livelihoods. Recently the territory dispersed food and water supplies from IHQ’s emergency response efforts due to the drought. Our trip was an opportunity to visit and encourage the Salvationists in their ministries and conduct a District Review.

For three days we drive in nearly 40 degrees heat for miles, across desolate rugged roads and bleak river beds. I remember how the Bible describes creation “groaning” to be restored to a place of wellness again.  Driving over the rugged, rocky terrain, the flatlands are peppered with gnarly sparse trees and low-lying bushes.  The parched earth seems to long for refreshing water. I began to imagine a day when the light brown soil would turn to lush green healthy vegetation and crops would flourish. I kept reminding myself that while this craving may be very real, people survive here. They build a life. They are resilient. They have families. They work hard.  We see herds of camels, sheep, and goats roaming from place to place as the nomadic pastoralists seek for better conditions for their animals.  The camels survive well in this hot land because they can go for long periods of time storing water in their humps.  For the locals, they are a good source of milk and meat, and their skin is also used for making shoes.

The first stop of our tour is Kaeris corps where a new Lieutenant is leading the congregation. The locals are doing well and have constructed a church hall on their own.  Naturally, I ask “where is the quarters?”  I am told, “the Lieutenant lives in the office.” At the back of the church, the office has been converted into a one-room living space, using a curtain for sleeping privacy.  His shower is outside and his bathroom is an outdoor latrine. In December the Lieutenant is getting married so they are hoping to have a quarters constructed by then. 

Our visit also included two Salvation Army schools.  One of the secondary boarding schools was so was clean and organized.  About 320 male students were placed here by the government from all across the country. Fortunately, many of the 16 teachers stay on site which we hope means mature mentoring and helpful security.   The principal of the school has been on sick leave for six months with a very serious medical condition.  The teaching staff are working extra hard to help improve the boy’s academic achievements.  The trophies on the filing cabinet indicate the boys are physically active, winning several awards in their sports programs. We stop to greet the boys, encouraging them to keep investing in their education and reach high to fulfill their capacity. 

As we leave the school and venture up the hill to the adjacent corps, we quickly hear the strains of African songs. Ladies dressed in their colourful kangas and beaded neck jewelry are vibrantly dancing outside. What I didn’t know ‘til half way through our visit was they were singing “Welcome Madam Vincent to Lokitang!”  I had been with these women in January at a District women’s seminar and they were so excited that I was now visiting their corps. (I think they were happy to see Morris too!) Lokitang is the hub for the northern area of the District. The corps is small and the attendance sporadic. We can tell there’s lots of work that needs to be done. The people are very kind and generous with their traditional gift giving to visitors. Morris and the Program Secretary are presented with handmade walking sticks and sitting stools as well as a Masai blanket. I too get a colourful blanket and a lovely beaded headpiece. These gifts all represent respect for their ‘elder’ leaders.

Then it’s on to Nachukui and Nashechubeni. (Don’t you just love these Kenyan names! I can barely get my tongue around some of them).To reach these corps, we literally drove ‘through the hills’ and across more parched river beds, with Lake Turkana peeking through some foliage in the distance.  It felt like off-roading through desert sand dunes and not really being sure where we were headed.  Finally, the DO says “there it is!” and for the first time ever, Morris and I arrive at a corps and it’s a tree! Under the canopy of branches shooting out from a tree trunk, about 30 people (adults and children) were shaded from the hot sun. This small group of worshippers come every week to sing and dance and hear a Bible message from a retired Envoy. There had been several attempts to build a church and a house but each time an infestation of termites destroys the structure. The people seem happy with our visit but I really felt that deep down they were not unlike the parched dry ground, groaning for a better day. We look into the faces of the children and we know the needs are huge. Several young women are carrying babies on their back and we wonder what their future will be. One of the gentlemen asked if he could speak. He shared his longing for a way to have resources to help them, including support for the children’s school fees. We knew there is a much bigger conversation needed. All we could do today is shake their hands, encourage them and pray with them. More dialogue would have to happen in the coming days.

Because Turkana District covers such a large geographic area, and the roads are so rough, we become keenly mindful of the financial burden and time issue it takes for people to travel. Only two of our Salvation Army corps have motorbikes for their officers. The others depend on public transportation which in this area is often a business lorry that could take 2-3 days to get an officer to Divisional Headquarters. 

On Saturday afternoon, following the District Review, we visit a corps that is just outside Lodwar, located on the outskirts of an IDP - Internal Displacement Camp.  When violence broke out in 2007 during a rough election year, many residents were displaced around the country. Hundreds of families landed in Turkana. The young Lieutenant couple is so loving and innovative. They were appointed here two years ago to no church building and 6 people to call church members. Initially, their living space was a rented one-room apartment – they had one little boy and she was pregnant with their second.  They must have seen the work which was before them but they were not discouraged. They were there to serve.  Apparently, the people who previously attended the corps had been chased away from their building through a land dispute and were left without any place to worship, thus many abandoned the church.  The new officers immediately began doing outreach, visitation and making connections in the area.  They now have a lovely two-room house and a church structure built from iron sheets – currently working on replacing their dirt floor with concrete.  To date, they have about 25 adults attending each week as well as an active youth and children’s ministry.  They declare their commitment to seeing the corps grow.  We were so inspired by their leadership, and while they too are in some ways ‘visitors’ in this northern land, they have requested to stay.

Our excursion concluded on Sunday following the morning worship service at Lodwar corps. We were quite inspired by the quality of music they have. The band and songsters were exceptional. Many young adults have moved into Lodwar for employment due to the decentralization of many government services.  The Corps has benefited from the commitment of many young Salvationists. 

A visitor comes and a visitor goes. The people remain. It is their home - their space. They are resilient. They are proud. They deserve our respect and support.  We leave this northern land of intense heat and waterless clouds with our notes.  We will never occupy their space as they do.
We will come again.

The District Leaders, our Secretary for Program, and ourselves

Our security detail. :) 

The children are a little shy shaking hands with the muzungu 

Some of the locals greet us when we stop for a "short call" :)

Kaleng Corps - the Officer sharing their reality with us.

These high school boys are preparing for their exams.

The corps under the tree!

Dancing with the Lokitang ladies!

Morris and Lt. Colonel John receiving their gifts.  

The walking stick and the stool as well as the Masai blanket are part of the local tradition for men. 

Beautifully handcrafted too. 

Major Lucy and I chatting with Lieutenant Pauline outside her corps. 

Inside Kannon Corps 

This little girl, Jolene, loves having her picture taken. 

She's only four but she wanted to wear her mother's soldier's epaulets! 

Lots of parched dry land

A few areas were pretty rough.

If I could read this camel's mind - "Who are these visitors anyway"?

Final Day - Taking the salute at Lodwar corps before the service. 

It doesn't matter how hot it is, they still love to march! 

Quest for Joy

Blog #53   

Easter 2019. For some different reasons, Morris and I did a ‘low key’ weekend with extra time for reading and rest. In our usual fast pace lives, times of silence, privacy, and solitude is a gift. For Morris, a person with a naturally introverted personality, this is pretty sweet, like his favourite dessert - coconut cream pie – which he only gets occasionally. For me, and my biological extroverted character type, it’s my needed balance time.

Some of our reading effort this weekend was intentionally focused on the centre of our faith – the cross. For a long time now in our life and leadership, staying grounded in the disposition of Jesus (his life, death, and resurrection) is a trajectory we keep positioning ourselves toward.  Clearly, we have not mastered it but it is what we seek and share with others.  

One of the articles Morris read on Saturday came from the Christianity Today magazine called “Easter Joy Belongs to the Melancholy”.  The writer, Elisabeth Rain Kincaid, admits her tussle with a celebration like Easter in the midst of so much tragedy, ugliness, and heartbreak that is ‘in our face’ every day. Her anticipated Easter joy was tempered and she finds herself unsettled about it.  Then she discovers a collection of sermons from a 19th-century priest, John Henry Newman.   Newman proposes that there are different kinds of excitement or joy (aka: satisfaction, pleasure, fulfillment) in our lives.  He contrasts the celebration of Easter with the festivity of Christmas, suggesting the joy (fun, revelry, excitement) of Christmas is like the natural impulsive delight of a child. (Just ask most kids about Christmas morning).  In contrast, our response to Easter is more of a “lasting feeling and not a first.”   It is more mature, seasoned, well-aged and is experienced gradually. It’s like a slow and steady recovery, a healing that happens step by step, gently through pain and struggle (the emotions of Lent).  Sometimes it is hard to find the actual joy because it is bedded in discomfort or anguish, even grief.  It grows out of hardship – like the Bible says in Romans 5:3-5. Or it’s like an emerging harvest of crops after a long season of uncertain breeding conditions.  It is tested and tried. In the end, though, the fullness of its satisfaction is not only in spite of the trying process but because of it.

Using one of CS Lewis’s story’s, The Magician’s Nephew, Kincaid proposes that most times in life, actual joy (the best pleasure, fulfillment, or healing) never precludes struggle. The young hero, Diggory, in this tale gives his sick mother a magic apple, a fruit of the Narnian soil expecting immediate recovery for her suffering.  (Apparently, Narnian apples have powers of healing and strengthening). To the young boy’s dismay, the instant cure does not come. It takes much longer than he expected, requiring patience and time - a slow but thorough process.  Only after much waiting and hope do the healing gradually happen. Not only in Lewis’s tales, but in real life, the quest for joy can include setback and struggle.  Practically speaking, it is life.

In Kenya right now there is widespread drought. A recent news story declares it the worst drought in over 35 years in some areas.  Our Projects’ Department is working with IHQ to acquire rapid response resources to support many who are struggling to survive the food shortage. Sufficient rains are just not coming. The celebration (or quest for joy) may be a very slow course. But hope endures. Kenyans do not give up. They, literally, keep looking up as everyone hopes and prays for rain.

I recently posted a picture on Facebook of a beautiful, vibrant woman I met a couple of weeks ago. Her name is Veronicah. She is a bright, confident, intelligent leader - a servant of God who has been a respected Salvation Army officer for nearly 25 years. This year her body is raging a battle with the dreaded C word – cancer. She has been through chemotherapy and radiation but the tumour keeps growing. She is not sure if the joy she wants will come but she is an amazing witness of deep solid faith and complete trust in the perfect plan of God. She is inspiring so many others on her journey, creating a legacy of active faith, perseverance and an unshaken commitment to what she believes in.

On Easter Sunday morning, Morris and I joined an ecumenical chapel service where our denominations were irrelevant. We were simply believers - disciples of Jesus gathered to sing from our hearts: “Christ the Lord is risen today! Hallelujah!”  We prayed together for our country and our families.  Immediately after, I couldn’t wait to do a tweet and a Facebook post that expressed my personal joy in the resurrection of Christ. It’s the foundation of my faith. “It’s true! The Lord is risen!” (Luke 24:34).  Just as I clicked ‘share’, I scrolled down to the startling, tragic news of yet another horrific attack - this time on three churches and a hotel in Sri Lanka.  The joy of Easter morning now embedded in global (and personal) pain and sorrow for so many. Hope, faith, prayer, and love now showered on another community.

So what does all this mean? Where do we find real, actual joy? Will our celebrations ever be free of some drizzle or full-on storm of disappointment or brokenness? The truth is happiness, joy or personal satisfaction for most of us seldom comes void of some amount of stress or distress.  So, does the quest for joy materialize in the sudden or impulsive childlike moments of ecstasy, or is it more about that which comes slowly, surely, and deeply in the midst of the throbbing stings of real life? Perhaps the latter. Then again, maybe it’s not an either/or. Maybe it’s a both/and.  One thing I know. With the love and support of people around us and with a spiritual pilgrimage that says God is always with us, a positive response to life, love, and faith (actual joy) can be found.  

Let me conclude with the last paragraph of Elisabeth Kincaid’s article (with a slight paraphrase):

“Easter joy does not require us to leave our current realities behind or to be unbruised by the events of this world. Instead, it comes when, like Diggory, we return to the brokenness around us (including our own brokenness) with the comfort of Christ’s presence and the instruments of grace that he provides for us. In this act of return (to the world and to our everyday lives), joy comes wearing a different, darker guise, but it appears deeper, better, and more miraculous than anything we could ever expect.”

Happy Easter!

Visiting Veronicah 

The wonder of the forest

The wonder of the forest

In a world where “the wrong seems oft so strong”, it is sometimes very beneficial to stop and see the beauty and wonder which surrounds us.

As a Newfoundlander is drawn to the ocean, a Kenyan is pulled to the forest. As visitors here, we too find the forest quite fascinating. It never disappoints us. Our excursions never satisfy our knowledge or understanding. There is so much. It’s incessant. In the Kakamega forest alone, there’s 160 different species of trees so varied in color, height, and foliage.  Shading our walk as we trek through its road ways like strangers or possibly intruders, this serene piece of God’s creation mystifies us.  We marvel at our surroundings each time we get to trod this part of the earth.  170 variations of flowering plants – yet we’ve noticed so few.   

On Saturday, our guide, Jona, (now our favorite) is so obliging as he escorts and educates us about his home land. He’s lived in the forest village since birth. His mind and vision enable us to see what we naturally would not and he prods us to vaguely understand how the Creator has formed and sustained life in such a broader expanse than just human beings.  There is a holistic grandeur of our created world spanning oceans, forests, sky and space that often escapes our identification. The sites, sounds, smells, touch and taste are truly wonderful.   If once in a while we would stop and consider it more fully, we would be blessed. Perhaps even in our own backyard there is wonder just waiting to capture our hearts.

On our recent walk with our friend Jessica from Washington DC, Jona, stops at some fig trees that grow ceaselessly as twisted and entwined vegetation until the original host tree is lost and new trees generate. (Death and life so co-dependent).  Birthed from seeds that must first pass through a digestive system before hatching with a root system that is hard enough to crack concrete, the fig tree is more complex than meets the eye.  Besides the complexity of how trees grow and interconnect, there is also the wonder of what they produce.  Numerous forest trees harvest leaves or plants which have traditionally been used for medicinal purposes to treat malaria or other illnesses. One very large tree creates a bark used in the past as therapy for prostate cancer. Even now, researchers come to the forest and take samples of the bark to study the contents which make it so medically suitable. 

We stop again. “Look up” Jona says, pointing to a dark image in the trees about 30 feet above us. What is it? A hive? Yes, but not from bees. It’s an ant hive. Not on the ground as we expect but overhead hanging marginally off the tree trunk, almost camouflaged yet visible.  Ants (so characteristically coordinated and methodical) carry mud high up the trunks to fashion a beehive type nest and then scour the trees and ground for food to take to their home.  Among their food search are eggs which have been hatched from moths or butterflies. To the ant’s eye, these small eggs appear eatable and tasty so they carry the eggs back to the nest eager to have their meal. The eggs disappoint them - the shells are too hard to crack or digest so they are discarded. But nature’s work doesn’t cease. The natural temperature inside this ant nest just so happens to be perfect for these hard shelled eggs and before long they hatch into caterpillars evolving later into one of the forest’s indigenous, exotic butterflies. Oh the wonder of it all!  Nature always needing nature. So much inter-connectedness!

Before long, Jona’s keen eye sites a rare bird perched lightly on a branch by the side of the road. The three of us peer intently struggling to see the uncommon creature. The bird’s name (which Jona knew) escapes me now but it is so rare birdwatchers spend hours or days looking for it but for us - there it is. Carefree on its perch for a few moments until it takes flight again with its dark blue and black body swooping back into its natural habitat.  No camera to snap pictures, we just revel in the scenic pleasure.

The forest could be a welcome shopping spot for craftsmen and wood workers. A unique feature of one tree is the sandpaper leaves. Sustaining their grit for several uses, these leaves are pretty practical for manipulating rough surfaces into smooth ones - amazing to touch.  And walk a little further to a tree that releases sticky sap quite suitable for making glue. I ponder about how much in our world has been considered human discoveries only to realize there is so much around us provided directly by the Creator.

Our walk brings us to the summit of a hill. The panoramic view of the rain forest always stirs our admiration.  An endless carpet of multi-colored green trees seemingly yielding only to the far distant mountains.  We sit under the shade of a small tree to catch our breath and let our eyes gaze with curious marvel.  How beneficial it is to physically or symbolically rise above the chaos of our everyday lives and take the long view. See (or at least imagine) the grandeur of life as God created it - the perfection of systems and seasons, the harmony of a variant nature as it was meant to be (diversity at its best), and the beautiful rhythms of the Creator’s handiwork.  What’s a little startling is that we not only get to enjoy and gape at all of this, but we also have responsibility for it. I’m not an environmental expert or any kind of ecological advocate, but I cannot forget the directive from the One who lovingly gave us this incredible world in all its glory. “Everything I have created has My breath in it and I give it to you. Take care of it.” (Genesis 1:30, my paraphrase). Oh let me (us) ne’er forget.

Descending the hill, as we carefully maneuver the loose gravel and rocky terrain, Morris and Jona suddenly spot a large light-colored bird soaring like an eagle across the wide expanse of the sky above the forest. Its swoop and lunge buoyed by the wind beneath its wings captivate us as we try to surmise the mystery and splendor of this creature and its creator. Transcending what is happening beneath and around him, the bird glides smoothly and carefree ‘til it disappears into the world that perhaps it is either exploring or admiring. I recall the prophet’s words: “The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth … his understanding no one can fathom … but those who hope in Him will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles.” (Isaiah 40)

My prayer today is that our Creator’s wonder will forever be our rock and our guide.

The Children's Home

Morris and I visited our first Children’s Home today. It is not run by TSA. It is run by Government and ‘well-wishers’, people who donate funds to keep the home operating. This Home is located next to one of our corps where we were holding a gathering. The director, a caring young man named Christopher, and some of the children came to our gathering and participated. At the end of the service, we were invited to visit the Home. Our schedule was tight because we had a four hour drive to Kakamega before dark, but we could not forfeit this opportunity.

Our first stop was the nursery – who can resist babies? J  It was a small room with two cribs – one baby in one crib and two babies in another. The babies were between 2-3 months old. We were told their stories included being rescued by the Child Welfare office and another abandoned by a young parent. These three precious infants could steal your heart in a flash.

Morris and I got to hold one baby each. I held a little Joel, and Morris held Joyce. (Morris has a special place in his heart for little girls!). They snuggled into our necks with no hesitation. I remembered how important ‘flesh on flesh’ is to babies. We didn’t want to let them go. When I placed Joel back in his crib, he started to cry, as if he had been really enjoying the snuggle. Oh my heart!

Our attention was then directed to the room adjacent to the nursery.  It was like our hearts expanded as we saw about 8 cribs in a room that was probably 8 X 12 feet. These were the toddlers, two or three in a crib. Two of the children had some disabilities, they had their own crib.  We had to fight back tears as we walked among the cribs to say hi and touch the little ones hands. Some of them were asleep. After a few minutes, one little one woke up and when he saw the ‘white man’, he started to cry loudly and others followed.  So we did a quick exit from the room, not wanting to disturb the children. Back in the nursery we met a lady, Jennifer, who Christopher called the ‘Mom’ of the babies. She was cuddling Joel and we were told she is one of the employees for the baby section. We took time to pray over the little ones and thank the staff for their good work.

Christopher then took us outside to meet the older children. There are 144 children living there right now, ranging from infancy to high school age. Outside the children were playing in the open area. There were some swings in the playground and a small indoor multi-purpose room where we gathered to hear the children sing. What a pleasure to hear these kids raise their voices with great gusto: “Who made the stars that twinkle in the sky, who made the rain that falls so hard, who made the pretty butterfly, and who made me and you – our Father God” and then another tune: “We have chosen a better way, we will serve God for the rest of our life.” Music to our ears!! Morris shared a few words with them and said a prayer. They kept saying “Ah sante sana” (thank you for coming).

The visit to this Children’s Home was short so we didn’t get to ask all the questions we wanted to. From what we could gather, the opportunities for adoption are quite few and many of them stay at the home until they finish school.  Most of the children come there when the Child Welfare Ministry becomes aware of situations where parents are deemed unfit to raise children. Christopher said: “some of the children have witnessed or experienced abuse, some have even witnessed the suicide of their parents. Every once in a while, an infant baby is left at the gate and they take the child in.”

We could see some of the older kids helping the younger ones. I began to think that perhaps it is like a big family or a small community. They support each other.  They probably bicker and tease each other too. They have rules to follow and adults to take care of them.  When the kids are young, they are given some basic pre-school education. When they are of age, they go to the schools nearby – one of the main Primary schools being a Salvation Army school near the corps next door. Some of the high school age youth are doing exams each year and hoping to continue with their education.

It’s easy to ‘feel sorry’ for these children. And yes, it definitely was one of the most heart wrenching visits Morris and I have made, especially to the nursery and toddler room. (If we were a few years younger, we would probably be having another conversation.)  We can certainly appreciate the reward and the challenge the 28 staff have as they continue to run this facility of love.

Perhaps most child psychologists and many of us would say that children flourish best in individual homes, if they are healthy ones, and not as much in institutions. Yet sometimes institutions are necessary. Where would many of these children be without such a place?

I am very grateful that Youth and Child Protection is one of the key pillars of The Salvation Army’s Accountability movement. The Army has always worked hard to protect children – in our churches, camps, and other Salvation Army facilities. Now there is even more emphasis and accountability measures to ensure every child is safe and treated with dignity. Physical punishment is not tolerated and every child must be provided with a high standard of health and nurturing in each area of their development.

I often wondered which part of living and serving in Kenya would affect me the most.  This visit today comes close to the top of that ‘wondering’.  I’ve heard many people who have served in developing countries speak of how they left a piece of their heart there. I think a piece of mine got dropped in a nursery and toddler room today.

God bless every child who lives on this planet.  May we all find some way to contribute to some child’s wellness and growth.

Me and baby Joel

Outside in the yard of the Children's Home.

Christopher is standing to the far left and 

the DDWM (Divisional Director of Women's Ministries) to the far right. 

The kids were a little shy getting their photo taken. 

The Dignity of Love

It’s the week of February 14 - Valentine’s Day.  It’s a good week to write about love. :)

I don’t know about you, but I sure have a lot of love in my life. My faith reminds me I am loved (by God) simply because I was born (not because of what I can or cannot do).  I am loved unconditionally even when I mess up over and over. How good is that! Then of course my husband, my children, my grandchildren, my siblings and a ton of in-laws plus a great group of friends (old and new) give me a pretty terrific life of loving and being loved. Besides that, I love walking, reading, writing, laughing, and connecting with people. Plus I love chocolate, cheese, and a good cup of tea!! And that is not the end of my 'list' of LOVE's. 

I know there are probably lots of people this week who feel unloved and unlovable.  God created the world to be a place of mutual relationships and the human spirit to be caring and helpful, affectionate and kind. Yet, many people are targets of being dishonored, disgraced, and forgotten.  I just finished reading a book called “Leading with Dignity – how to create a culture that brings out the best in people” by Dr. Donna Hicks. It’s an excellent read that defines dignity as ‘our inherent value and worth’ - what we were born with. To simply be human is to have dignity. In a nutshell – love and honor yourself, don’t allow anyone to rob it, and then honor dignity in others.   When we honor dignity, we all thrive so much better in our relationships and in our world as a whole.  

A great illustration in this book is what the author calls the “Mandella conscious”. When Nelson Mandella entered Robben Island prison in South Africa (where he would spend 27 years), he realized from the outset what the guards were trying to do to him and the other prisons – strip them of their dignity. Mandella’s response?  “Prison and the authorities conspire to rob each man of his dignity. In and of itself, that assured me that I would survive, for any man or institution that tries to rob me of my dignity will lose because I will not part with it at any price or under any pressure.” (A Walk to Remember).  

Dr. Hicks worked in the field of international conflict for 25 years. She finishes her book with this comment: “It has taken me a long while to figure out that at its core, conflict is created in the absence of love, and if we want to bring an end to violence and suffering in the world, we need to get better at loving – practicing the art of loving through the honoring of dignity.”

Morris and I were sharing with a group of officers over the past weekend. We used a current phrase being used by the General of The Salvation Army: “Battle Ready”.  As Christians, we believe in the principle of spiritual warfare against evil.  The Bible teaches us to combat evil with love in order for hope to be present in our broken world.  At our Officers Councils, I chose to speak about ‘the weapon of love’ as the foundation for winning this battle over evil. (Morris did a study on the ‘full armor God’ for the battle – talking about truth, faith, holy living, the Scriptures, and prayer.)

As I talked about love to the officers, I declared that love seems so basic. Dr. Hicks in her book says the same thing. At the core, loving others by honoring their dignity "is as simple and straightforward as that”. Yet we don’t always get it. And we don’t always action it. Why else is there so much conflict – in families, in workplaces, and in the world at large.

Evelyn Lindner, a German-Norweigian medical doctor and psychologist, defines love as “the principle around which we live and organize our lives and the world. Love - forceful, fierce, and big - is the only true antidote to humiliation. Love is what heals. Love is a force that can be used or wasted.”

On Sunday at a Divisional worship gathering, with probably 800+ people gathered 'under the trees' for worship, I saw love in action when a couple gentleman who appeared to have some emotional or mental health problems were quite welcomed to participate in what was happening and were not shunned. They danced to their own delight and their dignity was honored.  There may have been some smiles because these folks are not bashful in how they present themselves, but they were embraced and no one was robbing their dignity.

No matter how many times I read about the life of Jesus, I honestly cannot find any better example to follow. There is so much to learn about love from his life. Seriously, even if you are not a believer, you surely can’t refute what Jesus taught.  Jesus embodied love in action and showed us how to do it too - help the person who cannot pay you back, choose forgiveness instead of retaliation, increase someone’s self-esteem in place of shaming, be kind instead of rude, and understand without judging. 

I hope this week we not only celebrate love, but we find new ways to put it into action – how about honoring the dignity of someone who just might not feel dignified.  Whatever you are doing on Thursday, do a little extra LOVING! I’m pretty sure it will be well worth it.

Much LOVE,

Wanda & Morris