Deliverance

Mark 16:16-18
16Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned. 17And these signs will accompany those who believe: In my name they will drive out demons; they will speak in new tongues; 18they will pick up snakes with their hands; and when they drink deadly poison, it will not hurt them at all; they will place their hands on sick people, and they will get well."

For those of you who have read the previous blog titled “Sarah” we would like to update you further and request an abundance of prayer over this next weekend.
After talking to and praying for Sarah, we shared with Rick and Steve, and as a team we prayed over and discussed the situation that night. While praying against the demons we believed to be in Sarah, Rick and I both received a picture of her looking extremely angry, specifically in her eyes. The next day confirmed that what we had seen was inside of her.
We asked Sarah’s permission to pray for her, and the 5 of us gathered in the pastor’s office. Rick asked her questions concerning her salvation as we attempted to discern what she meant when she said she believed in Christ. She confessed Christ as her savior (though we are currently thinking she may not understand that Islam and Christianity are mutually exclusive.) Rick asked Steve, Bethany, and I to quietly pray as he began to pray aloud and claim Sarah for the kingdom God and began to rebuke any demons. The 45 minutes or so that followed are difficult to explain. As Rick began to address the demons, Sarah no longer seemed present, she closed her eyes, her shoulders sagged, she often yawned and when asked questions she had a difficult time answering, at times of consciousness she complained of not being able to hear us well. When Rick demanded in the name of Christ her eyes be opened, what stared back was not the girl we had gotten to know but the eyes Rick and I had seen the night before. Rick repeatedly tried to get the demon to tell us what it wanted and how it got there, but it refused.
At one point while praying it was impressed upon me that we should try to weaken/fight the demon by reading scripture aloud and I suggested such to Rick. What followed should not be surprising. I read aloud Mark 16 hoping to remind the enemy of our victory through the Resurrection, Steve followed by reading Job 38… “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundations? … Have you ever given orders to the morning or shown the dawn its place?...” (read it, even now I have goosebumps, our God is awesome.)We continued on and on reading verse after verse, speaking truth after truth. She covered her ears, closed her eyes again, and started stretching her arms over head in a manner that didn’t appear very comfortable. When bringing our attention back to Sarah, Rick would ask her what she was seeing or hearing, she would say in a strained voice that she felt darkness, at one point that she saw angry eyes, and complained of pain in her back, and felt very cold. For the majority of the time though her consciousness appeared to have shut down. Towards the end of our time Rick again tried to call Sarah to attention asking her to say Jesus is Lord, and then led her through the Lord’s prayer. This was a very long and drawn out process, at times she would barely whisper as she repeated after Rick, other times she would remain silent, eyes shut, seemingly shut off from us before finally repeating a verse. As the Holy Spirit led the time to a close, Rick ordered that that the demons be bound, that the voices would cease, that her headache would cease, and prayed a blessing of protection over her. As she came to, it became apparent to us that she didn’t seem to have any memory of the past hour. She said that she was exhausted and felt very weak, but as she regained her focus she spoke of peace and her headache being gone.
This was a new experience for all of us, it was a lot to process, a lot to try and make sense of. I do however feel that the Lord blessed us with an opportunity to learn, and opened the doors to minister to her again. She missed an entire week of school due to sickness and so we didn’t get to talk with her much but we continued to pray fervently. She returned to school this week and the Lord has brought about the opportunity for her to come spend the weekend with us. She is coming home with us tomorrow (Friday the 31st) and we want to put on the full armor of God and shower the following days in prayer.
Please pray…
· Through conversations we’ve had it has become evident that Sarah has had some damaging experiences in life such as instances of abuse, that may need to be dealt with before confronting any demons again. Please pray that Sarah would be able to forgive those who have brought hurt to her life, that she would be willing to share with us and that in return we would be able to speak truth and love her.
· Pray for protection over Sarah, Bethany, and myself as well as our friends and family that are praying for us.
· Please pray that we would be sensitive to the Holy Spirit; that we would seek to listen first and then act.
· Pray that if Sarah is not truly saved she would come to know Christ in full this weekend and renounce Allah and Islam.
· Pray that time and interruptions would not be a hindrance or constraint on our conversations or times of ministry/possible deliverance.
· Pray that we would have a spirit of boldness not of fear, an attitude of love and humility not control.
· Pray that this weekend would be a blessing to Sarah, a growing experience for us, and that all involved would experience the love and power of Christ.
· We will be taking Sarah to what is probably her first Sunday morning service at a Christian church. Pray that it would be a positive experience and that the message would speak to her.
· Pray that she would be delivered from the demons.

"Sarah"

We will call her Sarah for the caution’s sake and the delicate nature of her story. Sarah is almost 18 years old and only a freshman in high school. We met her within our first few days at the school; her vibrant and outgoing personality ensured we wouldn’t be there for long before knowing her name and face. Sarah wears the same white head covering to school every day, she is a Muslim. She is always seen socializing, making others laugh and forget the worries of their day. Everyone knows who Sarah is, “I am I” and “Me is Me” as she likes to joke. But at the risk of sounding cliché, something was not right, and there was a deep stirring in my heart that warned me and grew with each additional day spent with her.
I wish I could remember the details of that morning, that I could remember what exactly prompted and guided my conversation with Sarah in such a way that she began to reveal the dark afflictions of her life. She told me of the nights she walks around at night alone through the streets hearing phantom feet following closely behind, only to turn around and find a pair of faceless eyes filled with hate. She told me of the voices that plant evil desires in her heart, sometimes so strongly that she had to walk away so she wouldn’t bring harm to loved ones. She talked of nights she wakes up to something strangling her, something that enters her body and then exits again leaving her empty of all strength, she told me of the restlessness that plagues her and the desperate craving for peace. For one period of time school mates would confront her dangerous actions the previous night to which she would have no memory, and at one point she “woke up” far from home and could not remember her identity, she was put in a children’s home for months. In addition to tormenting nightmares and dark voices, Sarah is plagued by burning headaches and pains throughout her body. In fact sometimes her head burns so intensely that heat pours down to the tips of her head covering. Her parents naturally wanting to relieve their daughters illness sought out any help possible, whether it be the prayers of Muslim priests, “Christian” pastors who required payment, town doctors (witch doctors) and of course hospitals. The Muslim priest only offered false hope, with the pain always returning within a few days, the witch doctors I’m quite certain only gave the enemy a stronger hold on her body, and any visits to true doctors resulted in dead ends, each time doctors and medical tests would tell her the same thing, “There is nothing wrong with you.” This “illness” resulted in years of missing out on school, at times because of her dark behavior, at times because the pain made it nearly impossible to read or take examinations, consequently as mentioned earlier she is only in the 9th grade. She remains physically present but is rarely mentally engaged in the academia, as Sarah put it, “It’s useless, all I am is here, I am present, but I cannot learn, I cannot move forward, I can go nowhere,” hopelessness overwhelmed her attempt to smile. I am not one to jump to supernatural explanations for every hardship faced in life, however I believe those of us on the trip were all in agreement that the presence of the demonic affliction was the reality and to ignore it would only be give the enemy more power.
We continued to sit and talk with her in the hallway of the First Love office, she began to cry, and ashamed of her tears attempted to change the subject. Bethany and I both responded asking if we could step inside one of the private offices and offer her prayer. She accepted and we stepped into the small room and closed the door. I knew there was demonic attack occurring in her life, we had just happened to be reading a book on spiritual warfare, and I knew the Lord had been preparing us to meet Sarah. Attempting to quiet our hearts before the Lord, Bethany and I both seemed to be on the same page. We would wait to discuss with Steve and Pastor Rick about what we had heard in regards to the demons, for now we would pray for healing over her head. We would pray in faith, pray that God would reveal His power and love, and that the burning would stop. Bethany laid hands on her head, and I began to pray, next Bethany prayed. I don’t know how long we prayed for exactly, but as we finished, she looked up at us, peace beginning to show, “Thank you,” she said smiling, “I feel better.” She explained that her head was no longer burning, we felt her head, not only was the heat gone, but it was almost cold, Bethany later told me that she felt a cooling sensation moving from her fingers onto Sara’s head.
God is good, He is merciful, loving, and powerful. He is the healer of all wounds. He cares and He hears our prayers. This happened only our second week and we just now finished writing about it. Much has happened since, and I am confident that there is more to come. The war is not over, but what joy we have to know that we serve a victorious God. We want to continue to love her and to live in the reality of God’s truth that perfect love casts out fear, and that we have authority in Christ. Please pray for boldness, discernment, wisdom, strength, love, time spent with the Lord, and protection. We will update you soon.

Do I Look Fat in This?

Do I Look Fat in This?
Before leaving for Kenya I had assumed there was a universal answer to the titled question. Normally I would also assume that I needn’t tell you that the answer should be a resounding and unquestionable, “NO.” However, after a conversation with a secondary student at school earlier today I realized that not only would this question perhaps not have such a well known reputation, but that neither is the “fat” topic, quite the touchy subject we consider it to be between men and women. What exactly did a high school boy say to me today to prompt me to right such a post? It went a little something like this…
After eating my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and a FEW pringles, I headed out to the school yard to join the students during their lunch break. Benjamin, a 19 year old sophomore Bethany and I have become good friends with approached me smiling as always, with his lunch bowl scraped clean. “Did you have lunch yet?” he asked me. Upon answering him that I had indeed and that I had enjoyed it he turned his eyes to my stomach an announced that I looked “quite full,” his apparently objective comment was accompanied by a chuckle. Taken a bit aback by his laughter I sarcastically responded in a similar fashion as to when a friend back at home told me to stop wearing horizontal stripes, and that my future husband would appreciate me doing a few sit ups. He didn’t seem to understand why I covered my stomach with my hands while telling him not to make fun of me, and consequently insisted that I remove whatever was under my shirt. “Nothing is under my shirt; it’s my stomach Benjamin…” He didn’t believe me and decided to ask our friend prudence what she thought. This whole scenario played out for at least another 5 minutes, and I am quite certain that he remained unaware and unclear as to why I thought he was calling me fat, and why that did not delight me. Needless to say, I don’t think I will ask him his thoughts on my skinny jeans, instead I will leave him to his regular comments on my hair and make-up looking “smart.”
Before leaving for Kenya I had assumed I could gorge myself on In N Out burgers and Ben n Jerry pints, since I had been well assured that missions trips inevitably lead to weight loss. I had affectionately referred to this as my Kenya diet. Clearly I had never been to Kenya and apparently neither had they…

In Case You Were Wondering...

I realized that it may be important or at least beneficial to give you all a rough outline/description of what Bethany and I do most days. So for starters we are working with an organization called First Love Kenya. They have two main places of ministries, a home in Karen for orphaned girls from the slums, and an outreach at a pre-k through 12th grade school in the slums of Kibera.
There are 22 girls at the Karen property at this time. On the property there is also a guest house for visitors/missionaries, a wood shop which will be used to teach a trade to boys who don’t move onto high school, a large dining hall is almost fully constructed, and a three story dormitory is in the making to make more room for the many orphaned boys and girls at the school. The difference between where these children were living before and their home now, is really unfathomable. There are mango trees, a swing set, and peace and quiet, they live in safety, in love, the word that consistently comes to mind each time I visit is “sanctuary.” We spent about 4 consecutive days with the girls last week, working on their homework, singing songs, watching movies, baking cookies, simply loving on girls who for much of their life didn’t know what love meant. You can read some of their stories at www.firstlovekenya.org We continue to visit on the weekends or periodicially throughout the week.
We spend most of our time at the school (Raila Educational Center.) Here First Love has a feeding program that provides porridge in the morning and lunch to the 900 students and staff, for many of the students this is their only source of food. In addition to meeting their physical needs they provide counseling and weekly bible studies. They have also started a ministry called Compassion with which they help students with school fees, school supplies, food and in special cases, rent. The student’s are interviewed, their homes are visited and their stories are recorded, then First Love seeks out sponsors to cover the needs for each individual student. During our days at the school we spend much of our morning serving porridge and washing dishes, for the rest of the day when the students are on break we spend time getting to know them, building relationships and sharing the love of Christ. When the students are in class we may help with office work, aid the teachers in grading exams, or make home visits.
Apart from the literal description of what we do each day I also want to point out that a large part of the trip has been characterized by learning. Learning how to adapt to another culture, learning flexibility and submission, learning what life stripped of American society feels and looks like. Bethany and I both felt called to this trip for numerous reasons. Acting out on our heart for missions in a more tangible way and thus seeking clarity on whether or not we may want to pursue that direction after college was one of the main goals we had for the trip. Though we both agree there have been no “ah ha!”moments of great epiphany, for the first time we are at least getting a taste for something we have only dreamed about until now. And so we are trying to live in a spirit of service, and also learn in the spirit of a student.

Dear Reader,

We want you to know God is moving, we want you to know that your prayers are heard, felt, and powerful. We want you to know that your support whether financial, emotional, prayerful, etc is bearing fruit. And we want you to know that we desperately want to glorify God by making known each time we see His mighty power and love, but that we sometimes struggle to find the words to affectively do so. We want to communicate that though there may not yet be posts speaking of healing hands, of hungry children being fed, of souls being nourished, of our pride being broken, and conviction striking deep into our hearts, it doesn’t mean it’s not happening, it doesn’t mean the Lord is not alive and actively working, it simply means our finite minds are still attempting to make sense of the handiwork of an infinite God. We have recently gained more consistent access to the internet and our prayer is that during this second half of the trip, we will have more chances to give voice to our experiences. We want to invite you to engage and connect with us through the blog, we encourage you to share any questions that may come up, comment on what you would like to hear more about, any words the Holy Spirit lays on your heart, offer and of course blessed to hear how the Lord is working in your own life as you follow how God works in ours. We love you, and more importantly Jesus Christ loves you, and your support has been evidence of how much He loves us as well.
Your sisters in Christ,
Bethany and Charlotte

Questions of the Heart

The people I see are not hopeless. Many work hard, hoping that if nothing else, they might provide a way for their children to escape from this place. Other just refuse to be downcast, relying on God for their joy, hoping against hope that he will deliver them in some way. I have seen others with much more than these people have wallowing in self pity, hopeless. One does not truly understand what it is to be stuck in an endless cycle of defeat until one has witnessed a slum in a third world country. Our homeless at least have clean streets and access to public restrooms that are not merely holes in the ground, more often than not, overflowing with the contents of human excrement. There are government sponsored programs that give them enough money to keep themselves fed, and there are other organizations, like local churches, which provide relief from their hardships. These people have none of that. Every day is a struggle to survive, and life or death mean little to most of the inhabitants.

There are never going be reasons enough why suffering exists. Why a mother should live to see her children killed when their home collapses on them, and rescuers are unable to reach them. Or why children should live in abusive homes, suffering physical, verbal, and sexual abuse from their own parents. Or why an innocent victim of rape dies slowly of AIDS. But neither is there ever going to be a good enough reason for why Jesus died on the cross. God took upon himself the suffering of a willfully broken world. He experienced the fullness of the weight of our own foolish rebellion, resulting in death, the death of Jesus Christ, God’s son. God’s son! I do not have any children, but I know myself well enough to say without a doubt that I would never intentionally allow harm to befall my child, and I would have extraordinary difficulty in forgiving anyone who did cause him harm, never mind welcoming such a person as my own child.
-Bethany

The Meaning of Ring Position

In Kenya, wearing a ring on a specific finger has a unique meaning. If you wear a ring on your thumb, that means that you are lonely. A ring on your index finger will tell people that you have recently been dumped, although why you would want to advertise this is beyond me. A ring around your middle finger alerts those who might be interested that you are in a relationship, probably a sexual one. Your fourth finger when adorned by a ring still symbolizes being married. A pinky ring means that you are engaged. I wear my purity ring around my left-hand thumb, and this caught attention from some of the girls. They then informed me that according to the ring tradition, I was advertising loneliness! That was quite a joke to them.
-Bethany

A Car Ride's Worth of Thoughts

We are driving home at dusk, the smell is not exactly pleasant, a smoggy crossbreed of city and rural life, the blues and oranges of the sunset create a stark contrast to the browns and greys of the streets. The exotic acacia trees look like little paper cut outs, silhouetted against the darkening sky. Smiling to myself I take in a long breath, it feels like I’ve lived here for years, and yet lived but a few days because it seems just yesterday that we arrived. My experiences and emotions muddle together with as much contrast as the nature and city here, I can’t imagine living here but I can’t fathom leaving. I miss home at times but it lives only as the feigned scent of cheeseburgers passing by or the distant sound of a familiar friend’s laugh. I crave time to myself but find such rest in the community surrounding me.
I continue to stare out the window, the number of returning stares at the “mzungu” in the back seat (me) exists as the constant reminder of how far removed I am from the reality here. No matter how many times I walk through these streets I will never remained trapped like them, my big brass bed ever waits for me back in America. And yet I wonder, almost worry, that my queen sized bed back at home, framed by my walk in closet and entertainment unit, will trap me in a different way. That it will quietly and comfortably wrap me up in a blanket of apathy and forgotten lessons learned. We make our left turn onto the bumpy dirt road home, I honestly can’t remember the feel of smooth black pavement , no matter, this road is now my road home, and I smile as we empty from the car, kick of our shoes and make our way to our simple but welcoming rooms.
-Charlotte

Prayer Update 07-13-09

Hey everyone, sorry I haven't written as much as I hoped this past week. We've got a somewhat relaxed day ahead of us so hopefully between Bethany and myself we will be able to get a few stories written out for you. For now here is how you can be praying for us these next few days...

• Continued health, Bethany hasn't been feeling well.
• Tomorrow (tuesday) we will be helping a few high schoolers at the school study for an English test. Please pray the study session would be fruitful in both knowledge gained and relationship building.
• Please pray that we would continue to make personal time for the Lord so that we may remained refreshed in His spirit.
• Rick and Steve flew home Saturday morning, pray for a smooth transition back to life at home.

Creepy Crawlers

Charlotte and I have had some fun critters visit us in our room. When we get home, we can post a video of us early on our first Sunday morning freaking out about this spider that had made its home on my shoe. I had pulled my shoe out from under my bed and was about to put it onto my foot when I saw this massive spider (massive is a relative term...it was probably about the size of a typical sink drain) crawling right for my fingers!!! So naturally, I did what any self-respecting, caught-off-her-guard-totally-unaware, female would do...I screamed and flung the shoe onto the floor all within about a millisecond of first spying the spider. Having scared Charlotte in my initial reaction, I told her that there was a spider on my shoe and so we decided to record the event before disposing of it. I emptied a mug and folded a piece of paper, fully intending to trap it and release it into the great outdoors. That didn't go so well. The spider was a very, very fast runner and was slightly too large for the mug to be an effective tool of capture. Ergo, the spider succeeded in earning a hiding space between the wall and the dresser. Corinne, the oldest daughter of our hosts, Chris and Irene, came in and used our Venus razor package to entrap the spider and then released it. We learned a couple valuable lessons from this: 1) the spider which was assaulting my shoe is a harmless but scary looking variety of spider. In the future, it is safe to even pick it up with your hands to return it to its natural habitat. 2) Always check your shoe before inserting your foot.
-Bethany

Picture Update

Inside Kibera.

Charlotte helping out in the kitchen, learning to make chapati.

Bethany with some girls from the school in Kibera.

The team, with our hosts Chris and Irene, and our friend Anne.

Prayer Update 6-7-09

• Please pray Rick and Charlotte would be healed, they have both been feeling sick for a couple of days. Also pray that Steve and Bethany would remain healthy.
• Yesterday Rick gave a gospel message at the school in Kibera, 3 highschool boys came to Christ. Praise the Lord! Please pray that they will be given a firm foundation to grow upon, and seek our discipleship from the school pastor.
• Continue to pray for relationships to build at the school and orphanage.

Conversations I Had or Heard this Week...

“How do you feel about Muslims? Do you still like us?” asks a freshman girl with a white head covering. “Of course, we love you, Jesus loves you, why wouldn’t we?” I answer back. The four girls sitting next to us in the grass field smile back brilliantly and the conversation continues. “Since First love came to our school, we see Christians differently,” says 15 year old Ayesha…

· She pulls my arm a little closer to her chest and looks up at me, “My fatha die.” The little girl speaks very little English, what am I supposed to say, “I’m sorry, do you live with your mother?” I hug her tighter. “My motha die,” she stares at the ground and plays with my fingers. “I’m so sorry,” and I hug her again, “Who do you live with?” No answer, she doesn’t understand, she gives me a sad smile, and motions for me to come with her to get some water from the spickit…

· I am crying, its 11 o’ clock at night and the reality of the suffering I saw this week has hit me. I am taking quick short breaths attempting to control my breaking heart from overflowing into tears. “I just don’t understand, they are so strong, I am not strong, they have seen so much, how can I understand?” I say through the choking sobs. “Yes but do you see the hope in their eyes?” asks Rick. I nod my head, tears streaming, I just keep nodding my head.

· “I know God hasn’t forsaken them, I know God hasn’t forgotten them…but sometimes it feels like it. I know why suffering exits but right now I can’t find the answers good enough.”

“There’s never a good enough answer for why there is so much suffering…but then again there is never a good enough answer for why Christ died for us. “

· “We are friends, some people you can’t trust, some people you can’t tell your problems to, they will just laugh. But you, we can trust you guys, right? I know if I need to talk to someone I can tell you, I can come to you when I need someone. We are glad you are staying, we will remember you when you leave.” – freshmen girl talking to Bethany and I

· “What time do you have to be at school in the morning?” I curiously ask 17 year old Benjamin. “We get here about 6:45.” I gasp, “in the morning?” He laughs, “Yes, it’s not that early, but it is earlier for some of us, some of the kid’s moms are too old or weak, some of the kids have to wake everyone else up and get them ready, some of them have to wake up very early to make breakfast for their families or to sell.” …the next morning I bought mandazi (something like a small fried donut) from Benjamin who tried to sell it to the other students for 5 shillings, that’s about the equivalent of 7 cents…

Our Day in the Slums

How does one describe the slums of Kibera?

It is very difficult.

The area is about 2 square miles. It ‘houses’ anywhere from 800,000 to 1.2 million people. The dirt is a dark red, and you can’t escape getting somewhere on your clothes, caked on your shoes.
It clings to you as if to say, “You won’t be able to just brush this off.”
There is only one or two roads going through the nicer parts, everything else is a winding footpath between huts. An average house in Kibera is maybe, mmm…ten by ten. One of these rooms will sleep 5-8 people.

I’m not sure how to describe the reaction I had the other day when we went to visit a boy who was home sick from school. Rick and I went with the school chaplain and a boy named Moses, who lived with the sick boy. Our journey took us about a half mile from the school, and down a narrow path off of the main road. The path weaved its way among metal shanties and mud houses, and we were forced to step around women and children doing the washing outside their doors. Now, you must understand, a ‘path’ means the dry places and high spots where you step to avoid muddy piles of plastic bags and the trickling stream of water and sewage. It pulls the bottom right out of your stomach. If this was your life, this would be your daily walk to school, to work, to go anywhere.

The two boys who lived in this small room together were lucky, we were told. To be out on their own and to have so much space to themselves was unusual. Their room consisted of one bed small bed (which they shared,) a small table, a couple of stools, and some water jugs. A light bulb hung from the ceiling, and their towels hung above the edge of their bed to dry. We prayed for Eric, who had chicken pox, and left.

For some reason I imagined slum dwellers to be something very different from myself. It is easy when you see a documentary about such places to distance yourself from the human-ness of it. The visuals are all chopped up so you can digest small portions. You can’t smell the smells, you don’t hear the sounds, and you listen to some person far away through the voice of a translator. But when you are there, you can’t get away from it. You can’t pause the experience or change the channel. But Moses and Eric live there. I know their names. I have shaken both of their hands, looked them in the eyes. They are very good boys, and they are both good students. Eric is first in his class. He wants to be a journalist. Moses wants to be an accountant. Are these the people who live in the world’s slums?

On the way back, I listened to Moses tell me everything I could wish to know about the Kenyan system of government. I can now tell you how many readings a bill goes through in the Kenyan Parliament before the president signs it. And as we were walking and talking, I realized, this guy is just as intelligent as I am, maybe more so. He knows more about his government than I know about mine! Forgive me for saying it, but I always imagined people in slums to be very…simple. Maybe like…they could only be educated so far, but their circumstances really have handicapped them. But no, they are no different than me. And I don’t know why, but that’s scary. I need a bigger God for that, a bigger God to sort this one out. How can so many, over 1 million just in Kibera, be so shortchanged? It’s easier to deal with it when we can assume that there is some sort of justification for why they are there, and that there really isn’t much hope for helping them.

But thankfully, Chris and Irene are here, helping one child at a time. First Love makes a world of difference to the kids who come to school because there is food, and also hear the Good News there. The orphanage is coming along SO WELL! Rick was amazed at how much they had gotten done in just a few months since he was last here. I’m impressed as well.

Kwaheri! (goodbye in Kiswahili)
-Steve the Intern

Day Two

I didn|t know we would have internet access again so I hadnt quite collected my thoughts but I will do my best to give you a bit more of an update.

I can hardly believe how much we saw and did just yesterday. By the time we got into bed last night it felt like the plane flight here was weeks ago! Upon arriving, Chris (The man we are staying with who runs First Love Kenya) brought us back to his house where his wife was waiting for us with a full breakfast, it was nice to eat a table instead of a fold out tray. We are so blessed to be staying in the home. We got a look around the house and backyard, said hello to the chickens and saw where we would be washing our clothes...by hand :)

Later we drove through the city on our way to visit the school the organization serves with. As we made our way through the bumpy streets I still couldnt grasp the fact I was in another country, and not only another country but finally on the continent my heart has been waiting to set foot on. Its still so sureal. When we arrived at the school the kids seemed shy...at first. I asked for a tour of the grounds and Bethany I were introduced to various classes, they asked a lot of questions two of which included whether we knew Michael Jackson or our govenator. Upon hearing I am studying to be a teacher, many of the kids asked if I was going to teach them, Chris later said that he would appreciate us helping the girls with their english, I am excited to see how it will all work. One girl asked me to help her with a math question, for those of you that know me at all, you can only assume that it ended up a rather embarrassing situation since I was really of quite little help. I have also realized yet aagin that my name is not an easy one and that "Charlie" will have to work for the next two months.

We later visited the Orphanage property in Karen that Firs Love has built. It is astounding! They have 22 girls living their right now and our working on building room for more. They have a woodshop to teach boys a trade who do not continue onto highschool. They are building more dormitories, a large dining hall, the have a small house for those working on the property as well an extensive garden for food and some swings for the girls. It is a beautiful project that I truly see God in. We are all looking foward to spending more time there.

I have not quite collected my thoughts and impressions on all that I have seen but I must point out one of the most obvious things I have noticed. The Kenyan people are incredibly welcoming and kind, I could not count the number of times I was told to feel at home in Kenya, and I do. I can't wait to share more with you all.
Blessings,
Charlotte