So many stories...

Hello friends!

As promised I typed up quite the blog post for you. Unfortunately, it was on my computer that can't currently access the internet. I saved it to a flash drive hoping the computers at the hotel had a usb port. It appears they do not! Bummer. I have a few minutes so I'll try again, but no way this will be as good as what I did last night.

So, I'm in Africa. My trip is halfway over which is terribly sad. I have many stories. Mostly of the precious children here. I could tell you about one of the girls at JBFC who while we were playing Uno decided to doodle on Kitty's notebook. She wrote out Psalm 118:5 in Swahili. "O Lord, I called to you in my distress and you have answered me and set me free." A verse that she probably believes more than I do, but oh, how many times the Lord has answered me in distress.

I could tell you about Salome. The sweet 5 year old who's English is very good. Who Kitty taught to call me AshMill. Who has been at the girls home for a little over a year meaning she was only 3 or 4 when living on the streets.

I could tell you the stories of the boys. Stories of how they found themselves begging on the streets. How their parents separated, mother remarried, stepfather was abusive, and running away with their little brother seemed like their best option. How now they've lost their brother on the streets and are completely alone, except for the other boys struggling to survive with them.

I could tell you about Samuel and Pendo. The partners here in ministry for the street boys. How they're currently living for free in a very nice house, but if asked to leave are willing to build a one room mud house while they await the time to move in to the boys home and be the facilitator there.

I could go on and on telling stories about the people. Or stories about our experiences. Experiences with chewy meat and whole fishies (Yep. I ate it. With a smile, too!). Stories from visiting the market where we bargained (well, Kitty bargained. Oh, how I wish I spoke the language) to get the best prices for our skirts and crafts.

But this is the story I want to share with you. Probably the most unexpected moment that has touched me the most. The first day we went out searching for land Samuel and a friend of his left us in the vehicle to go scout out an area. Our driver parked next to a few small houses (ones with grass roofs). We were clearly in a poor village. Word quickly spread that white people were in town! About 10 children gathered outside our vehicle. They stood starring the entire time we sat there, about 30 minutes. They smiled and blushed when we looked their way. Their clothes were ragged, but their faces bright. Having a white person "visit" their village was probably the highlight of their otherwise routine day. It sure was the highlight of mine.