My Sabbath was begun on a Saturday evening, when I slipped. I slid past positive parental correcting and into the murk of plain old complaining, murmuring my malcontent like the ancient mothers of Israel. “You must be the only child in the world who does not like tacos.”
But his answer was complete, “You always said I was special,” defying all irritation with a grin and a hug, melting my murmurings and making my day!

Now in church Sunday morning, standing to sing as a congregation, we were squeezed against the row of chairs in front of us. Those chairs pressed the front of the thigh while our own seats behind lightly bruised back of the knee. Perhaps not actual bruising, but it was close. The chairs practiced an expectancy that if not at the start of service, surely by the end, the church would be packed. The young Kenyan leading the worship read Romans 8:38-39 with a careful exuberance and a shining but quiet smile. He hoped we would hear him with our hearts,
“For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
The 20-something worship leader added, “nor famine, nor corruption, nor politics” to bring it home. The singing was different after that Scripture reading. It sounded like waterfall, roaring and glad about God. Glad He is faithful and unchanging. The young man in front said it for all, “Nothing is better than this, worshipping God with each other.” Yes, we are pressed by responsibilities and worry, we don’t understand pain and trouble, we resist even the revelation in Holy Scriptures, but He is faithful; He is wisdom and cannot lie; and He is full of grace. Scripture says all things were made by him and for him. (John 1:3, Colossians 1:16) For Him. I was made for him.

Morning church prayers were moved by a weight, the weight of knowing that people are literally starving to death in this country right now. This morning the leader in church prayed that we would each be able to give something, do something! I had only recently learned of a committed pastor and his dear wife and little girl who are all three of them alarmingly thin, trying to survive on small wild fruits and leaves in a difficult drought-ridden area of northern Kenya. I had wanted to help them, but struggled with the budget, cutting the amount in every “envelope” this month. But now I had an idea for our family. I saw, in my heart, evening family prayers lit only by candles, and all of us praying about a garage sale!

Funny to pray for garage sales? and by candle light? But actually there will be a sale end of this month in which we could participate. So in my idea, we had decided that we could find some “worldly possessions” to sell and proceeds could go to that pastor’s family! I am so excited and cannot wait to light those candles and pray about it with the children. Giving is exciting. I shiver with amazement at how real the connection is in Christ’s body, the church.

Home again, post-church service, time for lunch. “Myyy” it sounded like. “Maahir” was the next try. He wanted his fourth helping of broccoli!
I said, “Say ‘more’ with an ‘o’. More.”
Timothy was willing, “O. Mah-oh.” I affirmed, “Good.” With every broccoli he ate, there was ceremony. He held it up for close inspection and said, “Tee!” triumphantly like the baby giant showing his mother giantess what he had unearthed and would now eat.
“Trrreee,” I corrected, “Say ‘tree’ with an ‘r’.”
“R, Tee!” ” he agreed, careful to pronounce it rightly and with authority, as one who had eaten many trees in his young gianthood.

Well, my life as the mother giantess sometimes feels pressed to the point of distraction. My candle light prayers got lost in the shuffle. It just did not happen for tonight, but they are already lit in my heart! So probably tomorrow night. Meanwhile, my deepest and excited thanks to those praying and giving to help us be here and make these connections.

-Liisa

Living in Nairobi has it’s challenges.  Sometimes city water doesn’t come for weeks.  Even when it does come it has so little pressure as to not even dribble out the shower head on it’s own.  But this has been the case for generations, so houses are built to compensate.  Ours has a complicated water system of three tanks (one underground, two in the roof) and a pump actuated by a slew of float switches.  We have two more tanks that are not connected in the system and are for reserve only.  All in all, we have over 1000 gallons of storage, enough to last us through most droughts.  It does require maintenance, though, and the other day, being low during a rain shower, we were collecting rain as it dribbled off the roof gutters into buckets and lockers and pouring it into our tanks.  Just another example of how life is different here.  -Ted

Yesterday the boys ran into the house, sweaty and breathless.  They’d been playing with their home-made wooden swords along with the neighbor boys.  “He hit me in the neck!”, Collin said, upset.  “Honestly Dad, it was an accident” Jonathan replied, “I was going for his head!”

Our boys decided to join the band of West Nairobi School, a nearby American curriculum school where several missionary kids go.  They’ve taken to it quickly and Jonathan, on the trumpet, and Collin on the trombone can often be heard blasting musical melodies into the atmosphere around our house.  They are pictured here with their friend who is also in the band.

Unfortunately, I will miss their Christmas Band Recital as I will be off to an Islamic nation on a video project.  Liisa has promised to videotape it for me, though.  I’ll also miss the Christmas play at our local church where Collin has a speaking part and Teah is a little angel.

2 years ago I wrote down a conversation I had with one of the boys.
“Look at that cloud, Mommy!”
“Yeah, sport, Daddy calls that the ‘anvil’ and he avoids flying through the gap between the top part and the bottom part of that cloud!”
“Why, Mom?”
“Son, the winds are too stormy there, too much up and down and sideways winds all mixed up together. Not good for keeping wings on.”

Three millenia ago, a similar conversation:
“Mama, look at the cloud!”
“Yes, my son, Papa calls that the “sign”.”
“Why, Mama?”
“Son of my right hand, you see as well as I do, the cloud is moving again. You know what Papa says. Cloud moves-we move. Roll up the blanket, and pull up the tent pegs for me.”

Familiar with the story? But to some small degree, I am living inside it! My quiet life can’t compare with the true story of a whole nation led out of slavery long ago, literally following a moving cloud that stopped and hovered wherever they needed to make camp. God’s command became visible guidance for them.
I am so grateful for my husband following that cloud! He was willing to move us to Nairobi if that is what it took to do the job he saw in his spirit’s eye. Now gratitude is melting over my vision, putting a glint of gold on even our failures and making the good stuff glow. I wish to tell everyone to join us, and from my heart to thank those who have demonstrated for us cloud-gazing and God-following. I am glad God cares enough to give us ideas and courage. I am so thankful for the encouragement from other people.
Many people hold in their hearts a secret, sacred thought of what they want to be when they grow up, even if they are already grown up. We are no exception. When we decided to move to this capital city of Kenya, we gave up on some of our specific “secret” hopes. But God surprised us once we got into the work here, revealing to us that some of the very things we thought we were giving up, were actually going to be a significant part of On Field Media’s niche.
AIM’s OFM is the path for this part of our journey, and a varied group of Christians have been the supplier. This “hike” required gear and food, which supporters have purchased. We wish so much those praying and giving could see the view we see from here. With every new turn in the road, we get farther from what we knew before and must trust God to teach us what we need to know. Sometimes he operates on a need to know basis. Thank you!

-Liisa