Missionaries are always going through transitions, and while adults get used to it, our little ones are spinning thinking about going to America in July. Ben called out for me the other night because of a bad dream, and after I had laid with him for awhile, he started snoring and I thought it was safe for me to slip back to bed. A short time later, he called out again:

Ben: Dad, the bad dream is not going away.
Me: What is the matter buddy?
Ben: Dad, when we go back to the states, will we ever eat at McDonalds?
Me: I’m sure we will sometime.
Ben: Do you think that I should order a cheeseburger happy meal or a McNugget happy meal?
Me: It depends on what you want to eat when you order.
Ben: (Sitting Up) That is the problem! I just can’t make up my mind!
Me: Daddy thinks this would be LOTS more fun to talk about at lunch time, not at 4am.

Ben and Kate are so excited to start swimming again that the next few months will be interesting, especially at 4am.

Kate and Ben getting a head start on swimming during Titchie Field Day—this is our homemade waterslide

All the food has been delivered, and I was anxious to start going out and visiting locations for the next computer centers. The first school I visited was Kiambogo, which is a fair distance away. I was driving down the final stretch, and the road just collapsed under my car.

I wasn’t sure what to do. I was suddenly at a 45 degree angle, and I was 20 miles away from help. The saying in Africa is that you don’t call for a tow truck; you just hope for some men to appear. Less than five minutes later, 20 guys showed up and pushed us out. Right now, 20 guys showing up was a bit disconcerting because we had received some information from the Embassy:

The U.S. Embassy issued a strong warning Wednesday to Americans considering a visit to Kenya, saying violent crime was increasing and that Kenyan authorities have limited capacity to prevent it.

But the men that came to help me couldn’t have been nicer, and we were on our way in ten minutes.

Kiambogo is poor, and since I hadn’t been out to the school in several months, it struck me more than usual.

Then I saw some children playing tag, and during the tag one child pulled another child sweater and tore it. The little girl cried the saddest cry I have ever heard in my life. I was concerned that she was hurt, and I asked the headmaster. He told me that she wasn’t hurt, but she tore the only clothes she had and she knew there were no more.

I thought and prayed about this for a long time. I came to some hard conclusions. I wish I could provide clothing for all the children but we just don’t have the means. Our mission is to create a chance for that little girl to buy clothes for herself someday. I don’t want to just react to sad things; I want to be proactive to provide education that will be the means for children not to be poor. Good nutrition is essential, and computers can take them to the next level. I want children to know that this was provided by Jesus because He loves them and has a wonderful plan for their lives. Anything else is putting a bandage on a cancer.

Today I went to Namuncha, the poorest school of all of them. It is a Masai school that had 170 children until we began providing food. They have 450 students today, because as a chief once told me `I do not believe in educating my children, but I do believe in free food.’

The thing is this: I’m sick of reacting to problems. I want to help solve a problem. If we can get a generation through high school with proper nutrition and they have learned computer technology, they won’t have to be poor.

We announced we would build a center there, and Abraham, the little boy above, told me he wanted to learn computers with all his heart.

And if we let him, we can truly change the world.

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