Lindsay's Reflections of Kenya

Lindsay wrote the following article. I thought it was too beautiful not to pass on. As a warning, she is better writer than me...and she swears...a lot...Ok. You got me. She doesn't really swear. I just made that up so that you guys would still like me. Enjoy.

A few days into our trip, Nathan ended morning devotions by giving the team an assignment. He told us to look for Jesus and at the day’s end, we were to each report back to the group on where we had seen him.

I did not have to look far to find my answer.

Her name is Gladys. I don’t know her story. I don’t know how long she has lived at the orphanage in Narok or what tragedy befell her family that she was no longer able to live in her village. I don’t know her fears or how often she cries in her bed at night. I don’t know what she wants to be when she grows up or if she has any dreams for the future.

But I saw Jesus in her smile.

She is a gentle spirit, a little girl so beautiful that my heart nearly broke when I left her that evening. There is something quite special about the bond between two people who silently agree to extend love, in spite of the fact that they are from completely different cultures and are unable to speak to each other in a common language.

Through an interpreter, I discovered that Gladys is from the Maasai tribe. I was delighted to learn this, thinking that the songs I learned in Kimaasai on my previous trip to Kenya in ’99 might be a means through which I could encourage this young child. With Gladys cuddled beside me and a dozen other kids hovering over me, I began to sing this prayer, “Ise llege baba, baba se llege . . . Touch me Father, Father touch me.”

As I sang, playing patty cake and getting my hair styled by little Kenyan hands, I couldn’t help but think that the words were so appropriate for the place in which I found myself that night. Surely I had been touched by the very hands of God.