Oops

Thanks to my son David reading the last update I realize I forgot to tell you what Stephen said...he asked "will you feed me, I am hungry". Thanks David for helping your mom out!
Sent via Cingular Xpress Mail with Blackberry

Stephen - he wants to be a Pastor when he grows up.

Sometimes you get a front row seat

Two and half years ago on the streets of Nairobi a little street boy looked up and said something to this day I remember. I remember how the words struck me. I remember how I felt. I remember the look on his face. That little boy was Stephen. It was during the height of the post-election violence in Kenya. I was downtown Nairobi having just completed a two-week tour of Kenya on the PEACE BUS delivering food and medical care to the Internally Displace People Camps. I fed Stephen that day along with his two friends - Jimmie and Brian. Stephen had lived on the streets for many years. He is an orphan. I asked them if they wanted to come with me. They said yes and for the last two and half years they have lived in the rescue center at Mathare Slum. Nick and Charles have cared for them along with the other 29 children. Many of you know the children. You know the condition of the slum. And, with so many of you financially helping Stephen, Jimmie and Brian and all the children will move OUT OF THE SLUM....to a new home in a village with grass for a backyard instead of a slum. And, they will each have their own bed. As the home is being completed these next two weeks I asked Nick if the children were getting excited about moving. He told me....they are already packed. On June 9 the Mombasa mission team will have a front row seat as we move the children to their new home. How good is God? What a blessing to do His work and help the orphans. Thanks to ALL you who have believed in Nick and Charles, who have loved the children and given financially and prayfully to make this happen!

Glad for a front row seat,

Connie
Sent via Cingular Xpress Mail with Blackberry

Sometimes we know one of the 473 children who die everyday

Sometimes we know one of the 473 children who die everyday in Kenya - mostly from preventable diseases. The 7 year old niece of one of our Kenyan staff died yesterday of cholera. There is a cholera outbreak in Mombasa. She became one of the 473 children in Kenya to die everyday of preventable diseases. I feel sad that even though as a world we know how to prevent water borne diseases, for this child we didn't. This staff member just a couple months ago lost his sister-in-law to HIV/Aids.

Sad to hear of another child dying,

Connie
Sent via Cingular Xpress Mail with Blackberry

Jiggers in Marsabit

Pastor Hirbo removing Jiggers from the feet of a girl.

Double Orphans

In August we are taking a team to Marsabit. Marsabit - a very desperate part of Kenya, starvation, lack of water, disease and many orphans. And, Marsabit is where there are jiggers. Jiggers are little white fleas that burrow in your feet, lay eggs and keep multiplying until your feet and legs swell up like an elphanant's leg. People die from jiggers because the fleas eat the nutrients intended for the person. The only way to address the jiggers is to dig them out. They call they that a "jigger campaign". The team is conducting medical camps, distributing bed nets, testing for HIV/Aids, holding what if? concerts and we had wanted to do sports evangelism. While organizing with the pastors on the ground they asked us to if we use the money we would have used for the sports tournament to help 18 double orphans who are infected with HIV/Aids. These are the 18 children the social worker we fund, Mare, has identified. Imagine knowing 18 children who have lost both parents and who are infected by the same disease that took their parents. The children need food, a place to live and uniforms to go to school. So, with the money we would have spent for soccer balls and trophies we will help these little children in Marsabit. He said He would not leave them orphans - He would go to them. (John 14:18) We will go for Him.

Praying for the many orphans in Marsabit,

Connie
Sent via Cingular Xpress Mail with Blackberry

Ryan is returning to Kenya!

Ryan is returning to Kenya! This time he will lead a team that will hold a medical camp in the village of Watamu - the home of Justus and David. We hope to leave a lasting impact on this village north of Mombasa not only by treating the sick, teaching community health, distributing 1000 bed nets, holding sports tournaments and doing HIV/Aids testing but by reaching many with the gospel guiding people to the Great Physician. I know many of you followed Ryan as he gave his weekly updates during his three months in Kenya. I believe you will enjoy reading his support letter. Pray many will be touched to help Ryan raise funds for medications and the other expenses of this outreach mission.

Thank you for caring for this ministry,

Connie
Sent via Cingular Xpress Mail with Blackberry

Fireworks in June.

Like all memories, Africa paints a picture not quite finished; it speaks words almost inaudible; it leaves feelings enticingly out of reach.  Memories are funny.  The story as a whole has slipped away, but not so fast as to notice it leaving.  What was once a brilliant firework display in the present are now only flashes of fainting color and echos of sound.  Like a cat chasing a shadow, memories remain elusive.  Africa is such a memory--flashes of shining color burst forward like children who skip by me in the slum and echos of foreign words slip softly away as I remember the quiet evenings.

When I quit my job and made the decision to move to Africa for three months, I knew I was in for an experience.  New places, new people, new adventures--what more could I ask for?  Someone hit the fast forward button.  In a blink of an eye, my anticipation has turned into contemplation.  My time in Kenya was both adventurous and ordinary in its lifespan.  All my experiences--the good, the bad, the exhilarating, and the frustrating--have fossilized quickly in my memory bank.  Perhaps my best decision of the trip was to write an update to my friends and family once a week while I was a half-a-world away.  I always looked forward to Friday mornings.  In those early morning hours, I would sit down at my desk and write about that week's experience.  It was my hope that those far away would see what I saw and feel what I had felt in Africa.  

As I look back on those quiet Friday mornings, I am reminded of the images I recorded and the opportunity I possessed.  What an addictive blessing it is to witness God's work from a front-row seat.  There is no better view I can assure you.  As the memory's view of that front row seat flickers through my mind, it is but a few sentences I heard one evening that sums it all up.

It was a dark Wednesday night in late November.  East Africa is known for its pleasant equator weather, but this night seemed colder and darker than usual.  The clouds blocked the whispered starlight and the wind had picked up--creating an empty-feeling night that conjured up halloween movies.  I was about to step into a village church in Northern Kenya.  Constructed with small, hand cut branches it was a humble church, even for Kenya.  The strong wind rattled the tin roof sheets and whipped across the plastic tarp walls.  As I approached the church, I could hear the beginnings of a worship service.  The wails of singing, the darkness of the night, and the howling of the wind hurled themselves about my senses in the brisk air. 

Just before I entered into the glowing candlelit hut, one of my team members pulled me aside.  "Ryan," he cautiously whispered, "I know you are quite accustomed to Kenyan worship services, but..." He trailed off.  "What is it?" I said, now intrigued.  He continued, "But, these people, these people...well, they worship as King David did," his tone had turned to a reverent hush.  And with that we both ducked our heads and entered into the village church as the drums began to sound...

It is that instance that continues to draw me back to the memory of Africa.  Like all memories, that few seconds one evening has changed.  The sound of the plastic walls waving rhythmically in the wind has grown louder and the tone of the drums has swelled richer.  It is with these sounds that I remember my time in Kenya.  The night's surroundings have grown taller.   With those images I remember.  That is the view from my seat.

Witnessing God's work is very much like memories.  Both can seem achingly incomplete, inaudible, or a finger's tip out of reach.  But as we grasp for memory's fireworks of the past, God's grand display lies ahead.  Memory's flash contains bits of the history, but seeing God's work is a peer into the future.   Glimpses of His grandeur--the coming Show--can be seen everywhere.  It sparks and burns in Georgia, Africa, and even a small hut church in Northern Kenya.  I cannot wait for the grand finale.

This coming June I will have the privilege to once again take a front row seat in the arena of God's work!  I will be leading a team of Americans to Kenya.  I am especially excited for this particular trip because we will be sponsoring a medical camp near the coastal town of Mombasa.  Funds for this medical camp need to be raised.  I would kindly ask you to pray and consider being a part of this great opportunity!  If you do feel led to give, please send a check to: "Partners for Care," 2001 Breckenridge Lane, Alpharetta, Georgia 30005.

As June approaches, I look forward to going back to a land that sparks my memories and ignites a passion that yearns for God's final display.   I hope you will join me.

-Ryan Morris

--
Ryan Morris

Partners For Care
2001 Breckenridge Lane
Alpharetta, GA 30005

cell #: (770) 843-2206