Protecting Ourselves At All Costs

Missionaries who come from the western world to serve in developing countries quickly get the feeling of being victimized and used by the people whom they have come to serve.  Relationships start developing and they quickly learn that the intentions of many friendships are for some type of personal gain.  This leads most missionaries to go thru a period or lifetime of culture shock, resentment, and cynicism.  I feel like it is fair to mention that the feelings are often mutually experienced by our host culture. Just switch out a missionary's frustration of being used for “financial gain” for the impression of being used as “material for a newsletter” or the “token national partner.”

Relationships are messy things within our own culture.  Mix in different world-views and emotional responses and you can end up with quite a mess.  

I find that as a method of coping many of us turn to “protecting ourselves” at all costs.  We withdraw.  We put up walls.  In any way possible we keep ourselves from being hurt or taken advantage of by others.  Wisdom and discretion (which are necessary and needed) start morphing into paranoia and withdrawal.

*On a personal note--this withdrawal probably developed even faster for myself as our very first friend Tanzanian friend ended up stealing our teammates car at the local grocery store and attempted to steal ours.  We were later chased down by police warning us that he and his friends were trying to poison our well to kill our family.  "They are very dangerous people" we were told. This was all within our first two months in country.   

We have all watched this happen.  Men and women who have come to serve begin to develop into paranoid and isolated leaders with ministries looking more like a continual job-interview and spiritual testing ground than love.  I don’t believe that any missionary intends for this to happen.  I believe that it is derives from being repeatedly hurt and deceived without having equipped ourselves with a proper biblical view of this type of suffering.  We see it as a cultural battle that we must fight to win rather than a God-ordained opportunity to practice loving those who don’t necessarily love us back.

I think this kind of defense is great for both self and material-preservation.  The problem is that it looks nothing like the perfect example Jesus’ ministry on earth.

Jesus came from perfection and left His perfect dwelling place to come to earth.  This is unlike America, which some equate with perfection.  His every thought and intention was perfect.  He entered into his new culture, earth, already knowing the outcome.  He knew the pain in which he was entering.  He came anyway. 

He left his Father and his heavenly dwelling for a life of pain, suffering, temptation, discomfort, and sin. He knew that it would end in his death.  He left anyway. 

He knew every single thought of those around him.  He lowered himself to wash their feet.  He knew every selfish aspiration that raced through their brains.  He washed anyway.

The leper came with one intention; to be healed.  He didn’t come to hear the gospel or praise the name of Jesus.  He wanted healing.  He was coming to Jesus only for “medical care”.  Jesus healed anyway.

He reclined at the table and ate with tax collectors and their friends, knowing perhaps that very day they had robbed their community.  The Pharisees questioned Jesus for eating with such sinners.  He ate anyway.

The Scribes and Pharisees were outraged that he would heal the withered hand of a man on the Sabbath day.  The Bible tells us that Jesus knew their thoughts and their schemes.  They wanted to find reasons to accuse him. He knew that helping this man would further their hatred and their plots against him.  He knew what the “spiritual leaders” would think about his compassionate act.  He had compassion anyway. 

In that same chapter Jesus shocks us by his counterintuitive and somewhat outrageous commands, “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.  To one who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from one who takes away your cloak do not withhold your tunic either.  Give to everyone who begs from you, and from one who takes away your good do not demand them back.  And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them.  If you love those who love you, what benefit is that to you?  For even sinners love those who love them.  And if you do good to those who do good to you, what benefit is that to you?  For even sinners do the same.  And if you lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is that to you?  Even sinners lend to sinners, to get back the same amount.  But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, for he is kind to the ungrateful and the evil.  Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.”

As they gathered around the dead body of Jairus’s daughter Jesus said, “do not weep, for she is not dead but sleeping”. The parents of this girl along with Peter and John and James, Jesus’ best friends, laughed at Jesus.  He didn’t get angry or question their laughter.  He didn’t retract his compassion because of their behavior.  He took her hand, saying, “Child, arise” and he healed her anyway.

Multitudes of desperate people surrounded Jesus.  He welcomed them.  He spoke to them.   He taught them.  They were hungry.  The need was overwhelming.  The disciples said to him “send the crowd away”.  Jesus fed them.  The very next day he heard the unbelief of his disciples as they sat in a boat arguing and worrying about not having enough bread to eat.  Jesus heard this and rebuked them for their lack of faith.  They had just seen his miraculous feeding of over 5,000 people with seven loaves and two small fish.  How could they have such small faith after what they had seen?  Jesus didn’t walk away looking for better and more faithful followers.  He was patient with their spiritual immaturity.  He loved them and taught them anyway.   

Think about how it felt for Jesus to tell the disciples about his upcoming death only to hear them arguing about who among them was the greatest?  This is about the point where most of us would have turned in our resignation from ministry.  They would have been such annoying and self-focused people to do ministry among, right?  But Jesus gently taught them.  He didn’t leave them and claim them as hardened or unreachable.  He loved them anyway.

Jesus sat and broke bread with his disciples.  He continued to love, teach and serve them as they once again argued about who was the greatest among them.  He knew the plot that Judas had already made to deliver him up to death on the cross.  Jesus continued once again to teach his disciples how to serve and love.  He didn’t leave them.  He knew they would deny him.  Jesus still loved them.  He wasn’t guessing at their impure motives; he knew them completely.  Betrayed with a kiss from the man that he had served and loved.  He gave his life up for him anyway.

Jesus was then mocked, beaten, blindfolded and struck.   He was innocent, yet accused.  He was nailed to the cross.  He watched as they mocked him, divided up his clothes, scoffing and taunting.  In the midst of this he cried out “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” He forgave us anyway.

The truth is that our hearts are all filled with bad intentions.  None of us seek to serve God like we should.   Instead of trying to protect ourselves so tirelessly from the potential bad motives or selfish intentions of the people in whom we serve we should take a look at the Master in whom we serve; remembering that all ground is equal at the foot of the cross.  We are guilty but forgiven; selfish yet loved, prideful yet served, broken yet healed, poor...yet made rich by His grace.  

Can you imagine what would happen if missionaries emulated the love, humility and compassion of Christ’s ministry on earth?  We would be hurt.  Oh, we would be used.  We would be judged by our “spiritually and culturally mature” co-laborers who scoff that "we just don't get it yet".  It will confuse and shock others to see the love and mercy of Christ flow toward the completely undeserving….just like it is supposed to.

GoPro-ing on Sunday

Here is what happened when you pass around the video camera at church in Tanzania.  

Chaos, a lot of fun and a lot of dancing.  Enjoy!

Wednesday.

I have to laugh at the amount of times that Aaron and I have made and re-made our schedules since moving to Dar es Salaam.  Each time we convince each other that this new schedule will work because things are going to be normal here soon.  This leads me to believe that we are actually kind of stupid.  It takes us longer than most to figure some things out.  It is also takes us longer than most to get discouraged, so that is at least the good side of being kind of stupid.  It is also the reason why the file on my computer named "New New Schedule" has been revised 8 times.  

This morning, I realized that today was actually one of those days where our "schedule" was right on track.  This made me so excited and proud that I thought I should capture and treasure our day by taking photos of every waking hour.  That didn't happen.  

But here was my best attempt:

First and with no need of explanation.  Coffee.  Kennedy and Claire headed out to school and we sat in traffic for 15 minutes trying to get onto the main road.  Thank you policeman for skipping us 17 times.  As usual I brought my faithful ukelele to bring me both musical joy and my greater, dare I say one true joy, of torturing my husband.  The girls and I took turns praying as Aaron drove, I needed extra prayer this morning for the joy in which I found inside my husband's ukelele nightmare. The girls were late because of our "help" getting out of our street today and ran to their classrooms.  I still feel sad dropping them off in the morning.  I miss those crazy kids during the day.

Joseph made his usual morning chai.  In a cruel twist of fate Aaron gets the last laugh of the morning.  He took his revenge and this picture while I cleaned out my water bottle because just as I prepared to gulp some freshly purified water...a roach climbed out.

Our wonderful guard, Baba Badro, had his 43rd birthday today. Things got weird as he alerted us that it indeed was not his birthday.  I blew out his candle and our birthday party collapsed on itself.  After a brief exchange between Aaron and Baba Badro the birthday party recommenced.  It was, in fact, his birthday but he had forgotten.  Awkward party turned fun and we gave him the rest of the day off.   

No matter how much our schedule changes, one thing is a non-negotiable…days begin with reading and studying God's Word together.  Joseph and Aaron did their swahili time and discipleship together this morning.    

We headed back out for the day.  I let the dogs out of their cages and got the gate because our guard was celebrating his newly remembered birthday.  

We dropped Joseph off at the bus stand to return to Morogoro for a week or two.  We will miss him but we know that there are some very special children who are eagerly awaiting him at the orphanage!

This "picture project" that I assigned myself turned out to pass the time quite nicely in traffic.  I started noticing advertisements and bus signs that I had grown accustomed to, i.e. the Osama Bin Laden and the American flag unite bus.  We sat in traffic for 1 1/2 hours.  Elliot was a trooper, as usual, and only requested that we buy her some cashews from the street vendors.

We arrived at Neema House for Women's Bible Study, singing and prayer time.  I understood most everything today which was a blessing but I did harmonize throughout an entire song without knowing one word.  Elliot "served" the church by sweeping which is her one excuse for playing in water.  

Aaron met with Baba Michael.  We finished up our time early because the after-school schedule changed at our girl's school and they got out 1 1/2 hours earlier than usual on Wednesday. 

Elliot is having another mis-placed anger episode because her dress got wet.  Somehow it was my fault and not her violent sweeping that had drenched her dress.  She hasn't really figured out cause and effect yet. 

We had time to stop and get chicken.  It shames me to admit that since our friends from the States came to visit us I have been carrying around their gift of chick-fil-a sauce…for such a time as this.  This is also the point in the day where my headache (that never left after being sick for the last two days) got almost unbearable.  Chick-fil-a sauce did help though.  It really did.

More traffic.  Bought coconut water. Found marker near Elliot's carseat. Dreamed of Starbucks.

Picked up our little ladies from school and went with Aaron to do some quick survey work in a potential new area of ministry.  The girls shared frozen juice to help them, mainly Elliot, cope with more time in the car.

Home sweet home.  It isn't quite the white picket fence that I had imagined but we are beyond thankful for God providing us a wonderful home. 

Espresso was necessary and perhaps the reason I have energy enough to put these pictures up on the blog tonight.

Sorry, but I had to put up a picture of our pack of dog pets who double as our welcoming committee. 

The girls did their chores of cleaning veggies and fruit.  Claire wanted to make her dad his favorite drink, lemonade. 

Aaron sending emails and doing work (probably making another schedule) and getting his lemonade from Claire-bear.

Dinner and our daily turn around the table of sharing our good/bad things of the day.  We all agreed that our bad thing of the day was Joseph leaving...with Elliot's addition of some more mis-placed anger.  (I love that this is our last picture because the raw emotion that I caught on Aaron's face is perhaps more gratifying to me than torturing him with the ukelele.)


The rest of the night went just as planned.  Claire got a giant goose-egg on the back of her bead by running into a door.  Elliot fell off a bucket and busted her elbow.  Kennedy got into trouble for slamming the door, previously mentioned as the reason for Claire's head injury.

Bible Story, Memory Verse, Kisses, Prayer and Giggles and…THEY ARE ASLEEP!

There you have it…this is what our "scheduled" day looked like today.

Some days I am so tired and emotionally drained that I can hardly walk to my bed.  Today, probably because of the espresso, I am able to look back and laugh and also to reflect on what the Lord has taught me throughout the day.  I am thankful for these times because it allows me to return back to moments which happen and then disappear so fast; or reflect on conversations that happen in a language that I am still trying hard to keep up with.

Tonight I am reflecting on the words spoken by my dear friend Mama Michael during Bible Study.  We read through Philippians 4 and I was especially humbled when she quoted and followed it with some incredible insight.
Philippians 4:11-13  "Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me."

She said: "...not everyone knows what it is like to be hungry or how it feels to watch your children cry for food, not knowing how you will feed them.  Not everyone has been brought to the same low and not everyone is entrusted with the same abundance and wealth; but the Bible calls us all to be content.  We have no right to compare our trials, even our lows and highs, with others. Right now Mama Hudson (our teammate, Alisa Leek) is in America grieving over the health of her father.  We grieve with her and pray for God to strengthen their family.  Both of my parents have already died, but that does not mean that I don't share in her grief. Just because she still has parents and I don't does not mean that her pain is any less. When we compare other people's pain to our own we are only being selfish and not seeing things the way that God does.  Everyone has seasons of grief, sadness, trials, victories, and abundance in the measure that God allows.  It is not our job to know why.  It is our job to be content in what our Heavenly Father sees fit to give and love those who have less and also to love and pray for those who have more."  

What incredible wisdom.  No matter where we live and what our days may look like I hope that we never miss opportunities to reflect on who God is and how HE alone strengthens us to face each low, each high and each day that lies somewhere in between…

Photo Credit: Aaron Boon (while mommy wasn't watching)

Dear {Pre-Africa} Self

 I remember you well; ambitious and eager.    All the years of planning, prayer, support-raising, thoughts of what your new life would bring finally came to reality.  You embarked upon the adventure of your life.

 I have some news that will be hard for you, in your enthusiastic state, to believe. You are going to fail.  Almost two years into your life in Africa and you will wake up in the middle of the night feeling desperate and determined to go back home.  It’s because you weren’t ready.  You really weren’t ready to die to self like you thought you were.  Sure, you were ready to leave home, family, familiar life and friends, a language you knew and a culture that you understood, but you weren’t ready for the complete and utter reliance that you would need to have upon your Savior.  You had enough reliance upon yourself to last you at least…well, at least 1 year and 9 months.

I am going to list for you some circumstances and emotions that you are going to face.   They will be hard but they are not the real problem.  They are revealers, grace-filled revealers of your real problem.  They will reveal your great sin of disbelief in the power and goodness of your Father to sustain you. 

“Nothing can hurt you except sin; nothing can grieve me except sin; nothing can defeat you except sin. Therefore, be on your guard, my Mansoul.”

― John Bunyan, The Holy War

First, you need to know that you will struggle with things that you never imagined struggling with.  You will feel so desperate for friendship and acceptance that you will almost lose who you are.  The sins in which you already knew that you struggled with will nearly consume you and the sins you never knew would tempt you will come.  They will come and you will be shocked.  You will face spiritual battles and discouragement like never before.

The children whose pictures made you cry during your mission’s presentation will sometimes make you angry. Sometimes they will frustrate you and hurt your children.  They will be ungrateful.  You will struggle loving them at times.  It won’t come natural anymore.  There are times you will have to fight to show grace and compassion.  This will shock you because you never dreamed that the day would come that you would need to look to God for the compassion that you lack.  It used to come so easy.  

You will see pain and death, a lot of it.  You will comfort babies in their last days of life; whispering songs and verses and promises of heaven in their little ears.  You will hold the hands of mothers who have just lost their children.  You will watch in horror as women gather their children, gasping for air, around to share the only oxygen machine in the hospital.  You will see the horrors of AIDS and pray over the frail body of a woman in her final days. You will see more death and disease than your brain will be able to process.   You will have to tell people no. You will run out of money to give.  You won’t have answers.  You will be afraid.  You will feel so desperate and angry at poverty and a broken system that the people you love are sinking into.  You will feel helpless.  You will question everything that you thought you understood about the doctrine of suffering and the Sovereignty of God.  It will hurt.

You will have to say no over and over again to people that you love.  You will constantly struggle with when to give and when to say no. You will feel like you are losing your mind when you literally don’t have one more dollar in your account left to give, but you still drive home in a car in which a tank of gas costs more than most family’s monthly income.  It will confuse you.  You will question why you have material wealth and those you love are hungry.  You will feel sick and disgusted at all you have.  But then, you will look at the lives of your friends on facebook and quickly find yourself wanting more.  Your extremes will confuse you.  You will start to truly understand that material wealth on this earth means nothing in the Kingdom of God and can offer no eternal hope.  You will start to see how blinding and distracting wealth is and somehow grow sadder for your rich friends than your poor friends. 

You will have your plans changed more times than you can count.  You will have your heart set on things that the Lord sees fit to change.  You will learn and hold dear to Prov 27:1 Don’t boast about tomorrow. You don’t know what it will bring.  Prov 19:21 where we read about our many plans but the Lord’s plans prevailing above them all. You will understand why James 4 tells us to say “if the Lord wills we will do this or that.”  Your will feel confused, embarrassed and you will be tempted to feel like a failure.  People back home won’t understand and that furthers the distance you feel between your new life and your old.

You will miss your family more than your heart can stand.  Your heart will break as you watch their lives move on without you.  You will miss their hugs and laughter, their honesty and love.  You will miss having people around that know and adore your children.   You will be surprised that in selfishness sometimes you just don’t want to talk to them because it’s easier that day to forget how much you miss them.  It will frustrate you and break your heart that there is so much of your life that is hard for them understand now.  You will miss milestones and it will hurt.  You will try to stay strong on skype so they don’t see you cry. 

Learning a language will be frustrating and humiliating at times.  You will say inappropriate things on accident and you will embarrass yourself and others.  You will progress slow and each step will be rewarding.  You will start to develop strong meaningful relationships.  When you first get here you will hate not being able to understand what people are saying about you as you walk by…after a while you will wish for that blissful ignorance back.  After almost two years you will still feel frustrated when you can’t understand your distraught friend on the phone.  You will feel angry when you want to share Scripture with a hurting friend, but you only know it in English.  Learning a language is way harder than you thought but also so much more rewarding then you ever imagined.   Each new word and concept is a key that unlocks more of this new culture and a window into the hearts of those you love.

You will long for a day when you can look and feel like a normal human again.  Your selfishness and pride will show through as you grow more and more tired and impatient of walking down the street and being laughed at, mocked, and beckoned.  The word “Mzungu” (white person) will start to really, I mean really, get on your nerves.  Sometimes you will have enough and you will lash back at people that “you do have a name and it’s not mzungu.” You will need to repent of your impatience.  There are days when you will find it very hard to leave the comforts of your home.  Those comforts of home will also become idols that you will need to repent of.

You will plead with your friend, Judy, a prostitute not to “go to work” that night…she will go.  You will be tempted to become bitter at men who capitalize off of the desperation in which an impoverished woman feels.  You will cringe and hold back tears at the stories shared by trusted friends of their home-abortions.  You will want to help and then you will feel deep discouragement when you don’t know where to begin.

You will be discouraged by those that have done this whole missions thing here in Tanzania longer than you have.  You will feel like a failure.  They won’t mean it, but they will be one of the greatest discouragements of your time on the mission field.  Pray for them.  Serve them.  They are hurting too.  Remember to listen close and learn all that you can, but not to let the fear of man consume you.  By the way, it will at times and your amazing husband will help you out with that one.  Also, God will bless you by bringing some wonderful missionaries, full of wisdom, your way too.

You will be robbed.  People you trust will hurt you.  You will have police warn you that people you once trusted may be plotting to poison your well to kill your family.  You will be afraid.  You will be tempted to become cynical and distrusting of everyone.  Your kids will get sick. They will get worms, lice, malaria, infections, typhoid, and have flies burrow in their skin. Your fear will tempt to overtake you.  You will want out.

Speaking of children.  They will struggle too.  You will hate watching them struggle more than anything.  They will cry for home and you will cry with them.  They will feel like outcasts and struggle with fear.  They will feel alone and frustrated.  They will struggle with a new language and you will have to learn to let them struggle.  You will start to understand that it is okay for them to be a little uncomfortable.  God is doing a work in their hearts too.  You will see HIS love and comfort consume them and you will see proof of HIS work in their lives.  They will teach you about faith.

All these things and many more will fill your heart and your time.  You will be tired.  You didn’t know what tired meant until you lived here.  You will give more of yourself than you probably should.  Draw lines and make time for rest.

It’s 4:45 a.m. now.  You will wake up and for the first time really, I mean really, want to go home.  You will say to your husband, “We aren’t capable of doing what we were sent here to do.”  You will be right.  He will agree with you. The Lord will hear your brokenness and He will remind of you what you already knew.    Psalm 138:8 “For though the LORD is high, he regards the lowly, but the haughty he knows from afar.”  

You have been haughty.  You have tried to get away with your “just enough” Christianity long enough.  Your life here demands and depends upon your deep abiding relationship with Christ.  You will fail without it. 

Stop writing your shallow newsletters back home and share the struggle.  Share God’s faithfulness through hardships.  Tell people that you, on your own, aren’t a very good missionary.  Be humble enough to admit your trials so that others may learn and turn to God.  Be confident in saying the words, “His strength is made perfect in my weakness.”  Be free from fear of man and share the weakness.  Know that God is at work and that one day we will look back at all HE has done and only HE will receive the glory. 

That desperation and realization that “you can’t do this job” is God’s grace.  It is a gift that awoke you this morning.  Your Heavenly Father is beckoning you to give it up, cast your burdens upon Him.  Repent of your lack of faith and turn to your gracious, merciful Heavenly Father.  Like King David, let these bones that HE has broken cry out to HIM.  Don’t doubt HIS goodness again.  Remember the broken state of “self-reliance” and don’t go there again.

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30

“Joseph, what were you like as a child?” I asked.  He looked at me with a blank stare and said, “I don’t know.”  I thought maybe it was a teenage boy thing and that he just wasn’t interested in the conversation...which was mostly correct. A few minutes later he looked at me and said…”No one ever told me.”  Those words hit me hard.  Earlier that day I was on the phone with my dad sharing a story about our girls and he reminded me, as he had many times before, to write all these memories down or they would be forgotten.  I looked at our 19 year-old Joseph and thought of the single photograph that he has from childhood and the countless milestones of his life…lost.  Another minute went by and he said, “The workers at the orphanage told me that I liked to play with a toy car.”  That was it…that is all he has.

Not long after that conversation, I got my camera and Shantelle got her notebook and we were determined to give each of the children at the orphanage, who we have grown to know and love, a window into their childhood.  We wanted to give them a reminder of how much they were loved…not just by us but more importantly by a God who formed their little bodies, who knows their every thought and who counts every hair on their head, every scraped knee, every tear and moment in which they thought they were alone.  They are loved by a Heavenly Father who cares and protects and loves them with a love stronger than any earthly parent could ever comprehend.  They aren’t lost.  They aren’t forgotten.

 Please read this portion of Psalms 139 from the eyes of an orphaned child…remembering that at some point we were all orphaned and our Heavenly Father reached down and saved us bringing us into HIS family “so that we might receive adoption as sons” (Galatians 4:5).  How much more meaningful these words have become…

 Psalms 139O LORD, you have searched me and known me! You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar. You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O LORD, you know it altogether. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it. Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there! If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me. If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night," even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you. For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them. How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them!  


(Below are a few of the children's pictures and portion of what was written to them, translated from Swahili.)


 
Godi.  You love to play soccer, to play with your doll that you named Mama Kennedy, and help others.  When the other children are sick you hold their hands and check on them often.  You give lots of hugs and have a big heart.  You run fast and play hard.  Everyone thinks you are handsome and you know it!  You love attention and love to be held...even though you are getting a little too big for that!  You make very funny jokes and love to laugh.
 
Joni.  You think that you are 7, 6 or 9 years old.  We think you are 7.  You love to play soccer and you are very good at it!  You like to swim and are not afraid of water…actually there is not much that scares you.  We call you mischievous because you have a lot of energy and are very stubborn.  You like to listen to music and to dance.

Deriki and Daudi.  It is hard to tell you guys apart, but we can when you smile.  Daudi, you are shy and kind and you like to go to church.  Deriki you like to run, show your strength, and eat candy and chips maya.  You guys are always together and you look out for one another.  Both of you think you are stronger than the other and you like to wrestle.
 Neema.  You are shy around new people but love attention.  You love to cuddle.  You have one of the greatest laughs in the whole world.  You are talking a lot these days.  Just because you are shy doesn’t mean you can't hold your own against the bigger kids. 


Wanamisi and Hamisi.  Usually with twins one is shy and the other is outgoing.  Not with you two!  You both have more energy and spunk than you know what to do with.  You never stop playing and running and talking.  Wanamisi, you have such a loud voice and you love to boss the other kids around.  You cry easily when you don't get your way or get the slightest injury.  Hamisi, you love when we watch you play and you love to show-off.  We have heard you say thousands of times, "look at me! look at me!"  You like to eat ugali and mchuzi and chips.  You also love to play soccer and run.

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Kasimu.  You are one special boy!  Your leg does not slow you down one bit.  You work hard and never give up.  You can keep up with anything that the other children are doing.  You have such a kind and compassionate heart.  You are very thankful and very sweet.  One of my favorite memories of you is when Neema got sick and without being asked you ran to get a towel and clean her off.  After helping her you returned to clean the floor.  God has given you a special heart that serves others and brings so much joy to those around you. 

Joseph.  You came to the orphanage with a different name and with a twin sister.  Your sister, Rehema, passed away from malaria on January 23rd, 2013.  You missed her a lot.  Before she died you slept in the same crib together.  Rehema was gentle and calm and laughed often.  She rarely cried.  Shortly after Rehema passed away your name was changed from Rehemu to Joseph.  They call you Sharo at the orphanage because you are so handsome and so cool.  You just turned one!  You are serious most of the time.  You love to be held and taken outside.  You especially love Shantelle and cry when anyone takes you away from her.  You light up when you see her.