Nime kuja hapa ku fundisha shule ya Naomi's Village.

"I have come here to teach at the school of Naomi's Village." But there's so much more.

Every day this week, beginning at 7:30 am, I have studied Swahili for three hours straight. I have had conversations with my teacher. He’s a very good teacher, and he lets my curiosity lead the lessons. I really appreciate that. No textbook here, people. I have asked questions. I have answered questions. We have built a friendship. Time spent together tends to do that.

I’ve learned some about his family. He’s from Tanzania, but has lived in Kenya for a couple of years. His parents are still living, and he is one of 5 siblings. Recently, his only sister has fallen ill. She’s been in the hospital for awhile. In the last 5 days, she has stopped eating, talking, or responding to any stimuli. She is still conscious, but unresponsive. He will go home to Tanzania to say goodbye to her. I think the only reason he told me about this is because he received the call about her status during our lesson. Africans are generally pretty private about hardships or sickness, unless they really know you and trust you. He has been sending all his money to his family to pay for the hospital expenses. His sister has two daughters, ages 10 and 12. Their father has already passed away. He is the only one in his family who is gainfully employed. His parents are no longer working due to their age, and his three brothers do not have jobs. He is the sole caretaker for his family, and now he will have the responsibility of paying school fees for his nieces, continuing to buy food for his entire family, and making sure everyone else stays healthy- while living a country away in order to have steady income.

I share all of this to show that heartache is heartache. The circumstances that seem insurmountable to us are matched equally in different cultures by the everyday situations we take for granted, like having a steady job close to our immediate family, or high quality health care. Just to be able to sit and listen to his fears and questioning, but in the next breath hear him assure me that God will provide because he hears our cries- it just levels me. How often do I doubt God is for my good in such minuscule circumstances? But here is this faithful brother, experiencing this broken world in deeper ways than I can comprehend, and through his sorrow he still believes in God's goodness. He knows God is good. He trusts that God works all things together for his good. Story after story of God’s provision has been evident in the lives of so many, back at home and here at home.

Again, it’s clear to me that being a missionary isn’t only about what can be given. My whole life is here, not just the part that's passionate about education. I will have days that feel unsuccessful. I will have days where the weight of darkness threatens to overshadow the light. But today was about what can be received in humility and community. These moments shape my ministry and my view of God’s holiness. Will you join me in praying for his sister, her daughters, my teacher, and the rest of their family?