Scars

Before we moved our family to Kenya five years ago, many of you asked how we thought our children would handle this change. Both being optimistic in nature, Rick and I chose (blindly at the time) to focus on the positive impact it would have on them.  And it has.  Our children have learned to decipher want versus need, to find gratitude in simplicity, to embrace dirt.  But they've also seen and experienced things we never anticipated and would have protected them from if we'd seen them coming.  Our children are blessed by their experiences in Kenya and they are also scarred.  We all are.

At our home on The Hill - a place of beauty and pain.

Most of you know Katie, our oldest.  She turned 18 a few weeks ago and is planning on attending Notre Dame University in the fall.  While we are so proud of her academic achievements, we are more proud of her character and her heart.  She is a joyful and passionate wonder, and we're humbled by her willingness to bring each experience before God and learn.  We are thankful for where God has brought her in her journey and excited about her future. This month, we want to share an excerpt from Katie's journal that walks through some of the raw issues we've dealt with living in Kenya and the way she has processed them. 

Katie and friends visiting Notre Dame in 2013

Please use discretion if reading this to young children. 

Katie:

I've always known that with growing older comes knowledge and experience. But man, I was wrong in thinking that these things would lead to walking an easier path towards Eternity.

Over the last five years, I have come face to face with so much loss. I watched a girl pass away due to a curable disease simply because she 'wasn't allowed' to go to a hospital. She left a child who spent her first two years of life in a home filled with deceit, selfishness, abuse and witchcraft. The memory of Dennis continues to haunt me. Dennis was a full-of-life, enthusiastic boy who was taken home after a grand mal seizure due to epilepsy. Not two months later, another child I loved went to heaven. She only lived a month on earth, and spent most of that time on life support, desiring preciously what we all take for granted - being able to breathe.  I've battled with the memory of two infant lives which were thrown away, literally, into pit latrines.

Amid all of this, a prominent man in our community has ruined countless days for our family, hundreds of opportunities for those we serve, and stolen money, hope, motivation, and dreams from God's beloved. It hurts watching people who claim to be Christians do harmful things.

I check the news each morning and I struggle with seeing people lined up in orange jumpsuits being beheaded for their belief in Christ Jesus. Sometimes, what hurts more than the images or stories of these Christians being tortured and murdered for their belief is that it's become normal. People are no longer shocked at the continual oppression of Christians in the Middle East. A friend pointed out to me that there was more media coverage on the "Top 10 Celebrity April Fool's Pranks" than the 147 shot dead in Garissa and wrote to me, "I was seething."  It's true that the world keeps spinning, and I find relief in knowing I am distanced from the situation, but is it right to watch this on the news and do nothing? Shouldn't we be drowning in prayer for our beloved brothers and sisters suffering and enduring trials literally right before them? 

My own heart has suffered through the trials of grieving loss and enduring burdens. My head spins because of all this and steals space in my mind. Processing is exhausting. I'm tired, really tired, and not the kind of tired a lot of sleep will cure. Counseling and prayer have helped me regain my balance, but I am still torn over the evil in this world.

On Good Friday, we sat down as a family to watch the Passion, a movie I've seen several times, but one that always gets to me. What struck me this year was different than in the past. After Jesus had been beaten multiple times, is covered in blood, exhausted from lack of sleep, and is wearing the greatest earthly shame, He next must walk through the streets carrying His cross. The cross falls a few minutes into the scene, and despite His condition, he stoops down to pick it up.

A few minutes later, He is knocked over. His eyes are blurred red from blood and His back shoulders splinters on raw skin, yet He stands up and again picks up His cross.

This doesn't only happen twice, but several times. Wrecked, gory, and exhausted He stoops low, grinds through the pain, and keeps carrying His cross. While I know this was an artistic interpretation, it puts a vivid picture in my mind of the verse "If anyone would come after Me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. "(Luke 9: 23)

In the exhaustion, pain, and grief, we better crouch down low and pick up our cross. It doesn't matter if we're broken, bloodstained, or near the edge of death, we pick up that cross. We bear that burden. We take the shame and humble ourselves in each situation so that we carry the burden like Christ Jesus.

So, as I look around, I am reminded that we all suffer as and because Christ has suffered. The challenge now is giving up enough of myself to pick up that cross and endure the evil and pain together with Christ. The love-strong relationship found in suffering with another is unmatched, and imagine the tie we have with Christ Jesus when we choose to endure with Him in a time such as this - this time of ISIS, health issues, divorce, spiritual manifestations, deceit, Ebola, terrorism, and death.

I have the phrase, "endurance, not indulgence" written in my planner at school, on the wall next to my bed, and sometimes on my wrist as a reminder that life with Christ requires the endurance of hardship so that bright Love can be spotted amid this darkness. Indulgence is taking the easier path so that I may forget pain, succumbing to myself and throwing out the opportunity to carry my cross- but then, I forget that He is using it to refine me. 

I am realizing that the best way I can walk this path towards becoming more like Him is by picking up my cross daily and following Him, because that's what He did - that's what He does together with us. I love and serve those around me, even those who will never love me in return, because that's what Christ does.

 "Love does not necessarily mean bless or agree with - 

 it means sacrifice or suffer with. 

 (This is how we) practice resurrection. 

 This is unspeakably hard. 

 This is unspeakably holy." 

 - Ann Voskamp

As you prayed for rain, we ask you to pray for spiritual protection of our family and the orphaned children we serve.  There are many struggles we are currently facing which are not against flesh and blood and we would appreciate your joining the battle alongside us in this way.

Drought and Growth - March Update

We are experiencing significant drought in Kenya during this typically rainy season.  The grass has withered, and plants and bushes are dying.  Dust devils rise to the sky and fill the air with eye-irritating and face-stinging particles. Crops remain unplanted, and the few entrepreneurs, who sought early harvest by prematurely sowing seeds in anticipation of the rains, succeeded in growing crops that reached mere inches before they ultimately withered.   Food prices are skyrocketing. A five-shilling cabbage is selling for eighty-five shillings. We expect this price elevation to continue throughout the year as time advances through the growing season and the allotted time for the long rains approaches an end. The already unyielding burden on the poor has become weightier - as if that were possible.  Kenya literally can’t afford to miss a growing season.

Paradoxically, during this time of drought and death we’ve watched new life take root in a young girl named Mary.  By Kenyan standards it was consensual, but then again not many countries have legal defense for date rape, particularly in a male dominated culture. Her word against his wouldn’t hold weight even in a loving family discussion.  As she was taught from birth not to question her father’s authority, she transferred this now firm belief to all of her male relationships.  Would that he’d been an honorable man…

Consensual or not, the result was the same, and walking through her nightmare alongside her has not been easy.  Pregnancy forced her to leave college and with it her dreams for the immediate future.  Upon returning to her childhood mud home in the bush and to her mentally challenged mother, she quickly found herself fleeing for her life from the wrath of her brother, who threatened to kill her for becoming pregnant - as if this was what she wanted. Seeking refuge in the home of a distant cousin, she dragged herself to a bush clinic monthly with the money we’d given her.  While gazing at her swollen belly from across the room, the inexperienced nurse nodded that things appeared as if they were going well and dismissed her with nary a touch. When she became sick, the selfsame nurse determined it was malaria and overdosed her with quinine, nearly terminating the pregnancy.

Can we really afford this responsibility, we ask?  Can we afford not to? If we leave her in the bush, she will probably die, or the babies will.  Babies?  Yep, babies. The appointment we made for her at Kijabe Hospital before she traveled “home” confirmed twins.  Our minds drifted back to that first appointment where Dr. Pete spent time listening to her story, gently broke the news to her about her special pregnancy, verbally encouraged her and prayed over her and her unborn children. OK – Kijabe Hospital it is. We’ll figure it out later.

The 37-week ultrasound showed they were sharing a placenta and the smaller twin would not survive unless a C-section was performed.  Early Wednesday morning, I scrubbed in to the operating theatre and held Mary’s hand as the doctor first prayed over her and then inserted the epidural needle.  She was terrified.  Within minutes little Anna Grace emerged, umbilical cord around her neck but screaming, followed by her bigger but younger sister Catherine, in identical twin fashion, also screaming with the cord around her neck. I left the theater with the two of them, and we waited together for their mama to get stitched back together. “There is no way they would have survived in the bush,” I thought marveling at their smallness and sameness as I cuddled them under the warming lights.

Not long after, I bundled them up and walked with joy in both arms down to the recovery room to introduce them to their mother.  Anticipating her delight at seeing such darling girls, I smiled as I scooted back the curtain with my elbow ready for the big presentation.  Mary wasn’t alone.  There were several doctors and nurses surrounding her as she lay in a pool of blood, hemorrhaging. The weight of the girls in my arms increased in significance and sat like a rock on my sinking heart. I deliberately walked back to the nursery, as if the weight were slowing my steps. I rocked babies, prayed and waited.

Several hours, hemorrhagic episodes, pints of blood and pleadings with God later, I tentatively approached Mary, girls in tow, in the maternal intensive care ward.  Weak and exhausted, she turned towards me with effort only a mother can muster to finally fully see her precious daughters.  “These are little angels sent from God,” she exhaled, and then breathed in their intoxicating newborn scent. She pulled them close, and they slept, content to be together again. 

A week later, under the expert watch of the Kijabe Hospital staff, Mary and company were discharged, alive, healthy and grateful. 

There are times when the impossible seems rational, and the decision to bring Mary to Kijabe was one of those.  Our faith has grown as we’ve watched God rescue her and her children by providing in miraculous ways. Isaiah 58:11a says “The Lord will continually guide you.  He will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame.  You will be like a well-watered garden, a spring that will not run dry.”  As I think of the sun-scorched earth outside my door, I am humbled at God’s provision not only for us but for Mary, Anna Grace and Catherine. Just as Kenya can’t afford to miss this growth season, we definitely couldn’t have afforded to miss this growth season either.

Sheep Poop and Christmas Blessings

A picture of the Valley home

I’m thinking about Christmas.  This will be our third Christmas in Kenya. Big bummer, because we will miss seeing our amazing families.  Big bummer also because we won’t get to reconnect with precious US friends face-to-face. Bummer, no Auntie Bevvie tenderloin and mashed potatoes with killer gravy. Bummer, no peppermint lattes or candy canes for that matter. And bummer, we won’t see snow for another year. (Actually, some, myself included, may argue that’s a blessing.)

I’m also hung up on Christmas gifts and am torn between whether consumerism is a bummer or blessing. On one hand, the idea of consumerism seems appealing.  What a “blessing” it would be to do some bargain shopping at Target, Costco, or even Kohls (small screech of excitement as I think of scratching off an “Additional 30% Off” coupon at the check out). It’s amazing how a great deal feels like money well spent to me, whether it’s something I need or not.  And wouldn’t it seem Christmassier and make my kids feel so significantly loved to be “blessed” by some really awesome, well-intentioned, bargained (of course) stuff? It’s fun to think about being “blessed” by more stuff (sigh, moment of joy, anticipating purchased gratification). 

On the other hand, it’s not very fun to think about (sigh, did I just roll my eyes?) because the line between blessing and greed can be challenging to define. During our Swahili lesson this week, Edward, our teacher asked, “Do Americans really use all of the gifts they receive at Christmas? Or after January, do they end up just sitting around?”  “Why do you ask?” I replied.  “I asked because do you know that the amount of money Americans spend at Christmas could supply enough boreholes to bring water to the entire continent of Africa?” Gulp…..

When I look around me and feel the financial strain of every, single household to make it day to day, contrasted by my selfish idea of purchased “blessing”, it’s not actually very fun to think about consumerism. We all have ample opportunity to give of ourselves to bless those around us. But honestly, depending on the moment, for me, being surrounded by financial poverty can sometimes be exhausting (“Does he seriously have to come to my door and try to sell me flowers three times this week?”), guilt-inducing (that’s probably it today because his family may not eat unless I buy something), annoying (“Ummm…nope, I don’t need sheep poop this week.”), pride inducing ("What a saint I am for buying flowers once this week."), and even exasperating (“Stop asking me for a handout and GET A JOB!”).

A picture of a sheep and a bed

And, though I’m totally full of myself, because I could shop (meaning I actually have coins to spare) online and then ask a visiting friend to bring some ‘American (Made in China) stuff’, being surrounded by financial poverty and being poverty-stricken of soul myself is the self-induced plight of humans going back to the garden.

So what is true Christmas blessing? I’m in a great Bible study with some wiser-than-me missionary ladies, and we’ve been studying Hebrews.  We’ve read a lot about Jesus, God’s Son and spokesman, our eternal intercessor, God in the flesh.  My favorite two liner so far is this, “…consider Jesus…” (Heb. 3:1 NASB). Consider Jesus.  This thought has penetrated my mind so often over the past few weeks.  I can hear God whispering it into my ear every time I have a selfish thought (which is a lot), a challenging situation, and especially in moments of joy.  “Consider Jesus” has been speaking to me related to poverty and blessing.  Consider Jesus in the midst of not only financial poverty but poverty of the soul, mind, body, emotions, circumstances, (fill in your own need). Consider Jesus as the One who can totally relate to our condition because He experienced it firsthand. 

Defining blessing as Jesus being God with us and giving us of Himself in the midst of any circumstance, makes blessing continually accessible and only dependent on my ever-present choice to be aware of it.  For me, this is astounding, humbling, and freeing and puts consumerism and true blessing in perspective.

And so as I ponder consumerism and poverty and blessing, I ask myself, “What will I consume today? And what is truly a blessing to me or to my children? How can I, like Jesus, be a blessing to those around me? Will I be consumed by my own selfishness or choose to consider Jesus and consume the audacious fact that Jesus is all I need and that in itself is a blessing in the midst of my own poverty stricken circumstances?

And, by the way…thank you on behalf of our whole family, from the bottom of our hearts for your generous blessings to our family which allow us to live so lavishly.  We have never once wondered whether we would have enough to eat.  And I personally am grateful that I’m in a position to think these thoughts and that Rick is not spending his days selling sheep poop to feed our family. 

A picture of her friend

Pictures represented in this post were made by the Valley kids when we asked them what they were thankful for this Christmas.  It puts things in perspective for me...

A picture of his bed

Merry Christmas

Warm Christmas Greetings from the Smiths!

Thank you for your outpouring of encouragement, prayers and support to our family over the last year.  We are so thankful for the many ways you have walked alongside us.  We could not have accomplished the tasks God placed before us without you!  We know that God is calling our family to grow and expand the Oasis for Orphans programs in Kenya, and we remain excited about continuing in this work.  

2014 Family Updates

Rick – Was grateful to see Oasis officially grow from one to three sites as legal partnership documents were signed with The Valley and The Shelter.  Enjoyed teaching at Moffat and seeing the first group of Maasai and Kisii pastors graduate from their three-year training program through Commission 2:2.  Upped his manliness when he killed a snake in our house. Added a few grey hairs as Rachel is now learning to drive.

Ann – Was overjoyed at seeing the Oasis sponsorship program grow by 30 children at The Valley!  Is excited that four Oasis kids graduated from High School and are headed to college. Is thankful for the more than 70 visitors who visited this year from the US and Canada.  Embraced working with the dental team by pulling out someone’s tooth! Found out the hard way that she doesn’t like paint balls in her face or baboon spiders near our house.

Katie – Is teaching the Model United Nations class at RVA this year. Enjoys leading the Jr. High kids in worship each week. Traveled to Zanzibar with her class and swam with dolphins and ate octopus. With typical Katie priorities, took last place in the One World Run to hang with her little sib because, “Walking is SO FUN Katie!”  Looks forward to finding out where she will be going to college. Is approachable, humble, and embraces joy even when it means laughing at herself.

Rachel – Had a surprise Sweet 16^th and went paintballing. Nearly tossed Rick and Caleb out of the sunroof of the car when she rolled over a small cliff in the road while learning to drive.  Joined the art class this year and renewed a passion.  Has boldly shared about Jesus with several people who have chosen to become Christians!

Julia – Became a teenager! Built her first “snowman” in Africa (in the sand).  Confirmed the loss of the missing Malaysian flight when she pulled some plastic bottles from the Indian Ocean with “Made in Malaysia” stamped on the bottom. Fell in love with a janitor-turned-superhero in the school play.  Bravely, rock climbed up Hell’s Gate.  Has a precious heart of generosity and compassion for others.

Caleb – Wants to visit the US so we can put his clothes in that awesome thing that makes them warm. Couldn’t move his arms for three days after his birthday party because he and his friends did push-ups through two decks of cards.  Scored with a header and both feet in soccer this year. Is our faithful prayer warrior – send in your requests.

Enjoy your families this Christmas as you focus on the birth of our amazing Savior!

All this took place

to fulfill what the Lord has said through the prophet;

“The virgin will conceive and give birth to a Son,

and they will call Him Immanuel,

which means God with us.”

Much Love – Rick, Ann, Katie, Rachel, Julia and Caleb

Kibera Fire and the Women of St. Martha's Ministry

This has been a challenging two weeks for our partners at St. Martha’s Ministry. Oasis for Orphans is partnering with St. Martha’s to build our newest home, The Shelter.  They also have a ministry to HIV widows in the Kibera slums in Nairobi.  They teach them skills in jewelry making, sewing, and in business management.

Around 1am on Monday, November 3, a fire broke out in the Hocus Market area of the Kibera slums.  The fire consumed hundreds of businesses.  That so many buildings were affected is not surprising, as the businesses are crammed together in close quarters and are primarily made of wood.  The St. Martha’s Ministry building was among the affected shops.  It burned completely to the ground. It was a total loss. 

22 Burned Sewing Machines

This week, I had the opportunity to join the ladies of St. Martha’s in their weekly Bible study, the first they’ve had since the fire.  They met to talk about their experiences with the fire and share what God has been speaking to them over the last week.  I was humbled to be in their midst and want to share a few of their words to encourage you.

Caroline:

“I was so down about the fire.  I heard about it in the middle of the night when Margaret came to my door.  We couldn’t go to the area until the early morning, but when I saw it, I became so down.  I lost everything to do with my business in the fire.  I lost my machine (sewing) and all of my inventory. I lost all of my items I had been making in preparation for Christmas.  I lost everything.  I even lost my spiritual heart. 

When I first came to St. Martha’s, I was so down like this.  I had lost my husband and I felt like I just wanted to die.  After this fire, I felt like that and even more so because I felt like I had been fooled by God.   

I walked away from the burning and cried for two hours straight.  Then I went home to my children and they were asking me so many questions.  I didn’t have any answers for them so I took my Bible and left for some time. 

I began reading in Psalm 107 and I felt as if God were speaking to me over and over again about how He provides in every circumstance and that nothing is impossible for Him.  So I’m choosing to put my hope in the Lord.”

Evalyne:

“I was at the hospital when I heard about the fire.  As soon as I left, I went to the market and saw the destruction. For some time, I couldn’t even speak. 

When I went home, my children were asking me so many questions.  I told them our ministry is burned, and we have nothing.

I had no strength in me, but I took my Bible and I read of Job and his trials and how he felt in suffering.  He was faithful to God through his struggles, and in the end, God lifted him up.  I am choosing to be faithful.”

Jacqueline:

“All of the week before the fire, I kept feeling fear, like something was going to happen.  This fire was it.  I have felt very bad since the fire.  We are ok walking around during the day, but we cry a lot at night. 

Though we have nothing, we are alive and walking, so we are thankful.  God will be God, and He is the one who is wiping our tears.”

Eunice:

“When I heard of the fire, it was in the middle of the night.  I did not sleep the rest of the night but was up worrying and praying.  When we finally reached Hocus Market in the morning, I couldn’t even cry.  I was in shock.  We began searching for anything that remained in the ashes and found nothing.  We found the big box where we keep our supplies and we opened the lid.  Fire came out of the box as soon as it was opened.  That is when everything hit me. I broke down in tears and cried and cried and cried. 

Later, when I returned home, I picked up my Bible and God reminded me of 1 John 4:7-11.  This passage talks about God’s love.  I asked myself, “What is God’s greatest gift to me? His love.  Everything that we have lost is not as important as God’s love. We will never lose His love.”

These are just a few of the many stories shared. And yep, I cried through every one.  These women literally live on what they earn day to day.  When they told their children they had nothing, it was not an exaggeration. Each of them talked of sadness, crying, despair, and pain, and then every one of them said they reached for their Bibles.  I love this about these precious ladies!  I love their deep faith, determination, and hope.  I LOVE that God spoke to each of them differently and yet the same.  It was an awesome picture for me of God being with us and sustaining us through suffering.

They ended their time singing this chorus over and over and over:

He has done so much for us that we cannot tell it.

We feel the same…

St. Martha's property in preparation for rebuilding...

Thank you to so many of you who chipped in to help the St. Martha’s widows in their time of crisis.  Their physical needs have been provided for through December and there is enough money to re-build their workshop!  If you’d still like to contribute, we’re still collecting money for the replacement of sewing machines and inventory.  Please send any donations to Inspire 180.  Inspire 180 works directly with the HIV Widows of St. Martha’s Ministry.  

Go to:

https://inspire180.cloverdonations.com/donate/.  Choose St. Martha’s Ministry in the drop down tab.