Meeting Mary - Kenya Post #5

I have longed to visit the school in Ahero, Kenya from the very moment I heard about it over 5 years ago.  My husband and I had sponsored a little girl called Mary.  She was 4.  There was a drought at the time, and each night we prayed for rain.  When Kip lost his job we prayed for finances to be raised to build a well.  I knew Mary had siblings and I prayed for them too.  I kept up with what was happening in Kenya, and even began researching what it would take for me to be able to spend a summer there.

Just as I was about to begin raising support to join another team that coming Summer my plans were derailed.  Kip lost his job and our marriage began to crumble under the weight of his alcoholism and rage. Several pages of my life story caught on fire and burned and only ashes remained.  I needed to focus on healing and renewal rather than travel and ministry.  

Even through it all, I continued to pray for Mary, her siblings, and their grandmother who was trying to care for them.  When I was able, I sent in my support.  I wasn't always able.  There were the months that I lived out of my suitcases without a home of my own, and the costly months where I was starting over, trying to get my feet back on the ground.

Yet somehow I found myself, 5 years later, in the Charlotte Airport waiting to begin the trip of my dreams.  The sheer joy and anticipation of knowing that I'm *really* going to be able to meet Mary for the first time is almost overwhelming. With tears unexpectedly streaming down my face I manage to share with my team how this trip symbolizes a loving Father giving me 'beauty for ashes'.  He keeps His promises.

Each time our plane landed the excitement in my heart would peak and I'd get all choked up all over again. (It took 4 flights to get there) It seemed just *too much* to believe that this beautiful thing was really happening.  Abba loves these children SO INCREDIBLYMUCH, and I get to share that with them!!! (and especially with Mary.)

We arrived Saturday...or was it Friday? (Jet lag fun!) The children are all seated in the cafeteria.  We are escorted to seats in the front row.  I turn around and scan the beautiful faces half expecting to recognize her face among the hundreds.  Children come up on stage and do magnificent recitations, sing amazingly beautiful songs, and dance joyfully.  The sound of their singing brings tears to my eyes.  I've never heard a more vibrant sound.  It didn't take me long to fall in love with each and every one of them.  Still, I wondered "was one of those precious souls Mary?".

Granted, I didn't expect to get the chance to meet her in person.  My greatest hope was to have her pointed out to me in a crowd.  Bonus would have been to see her face to face and maybe even get a photo.  Her photograph was lost to me several years before during one of my many moves.  She'd be 9 years old, I mused. It's such an honor to finally be here. 

When we went back to the school the next day to meet with the teachers I ask one of them "Do you know Mary?"  It was worth the risk.  I don't know all the students at my school, and it's about the same size.   Mr. Bob recognized her last name and suggested that she might go by a different first name.

I wondered, was Mary still there?  How would I know if she was the little one for whom I prayed all these years?  Well, Pastor Benard didn't leave me much time to ponder anything.  He kept true to his promise - "When you come here, I work you like donkeys!"

Sunday came and went...and was incredibly full.  We worked like donkeys, and loved every amazing minute! Any free time on Sunday was used to plan our lessons for the coming week.

On Monday, I met and tried to teach something to Class 8 and Class 2 and played games during PE with Class 4.  

Was Mary in the 4th grade class that day?  I was so busy with all SIXTY SEVEN of them I didn't have a chance to wonder.  But I'd have a chance to ask later on that afternoon when we met with the teachers - or so I thought.

One of our youngest teammates had gotten sick that morning.  She was scared and far away from people she knew.  The decision was made that I would stay at Benard's home with her instead of going back to teach my afternoon classes.   

Tuesday morning was just like the day before.  We spent a little time teaching but then had the honor of cheering on Class7 at the music festival after lunch.  

There were too many sights to see and so much culture to drink up for me to have a chance to stop and think.  I was learning so much about the community, the children, the school, and was taking stock of how big the need is there.    

In my journal I wrote:  

"Not enough text books or school supplies.  Transportation! Not enough food - only 1/5 of the children in Ahero are sponsored!!  The teachers haven't been paid in 2 months.  How does Benard use that little bit of money and stretch it to meet the needs of SO many children??  What about the 8th graders who have no place to go when they finish?  What will happen to them?  We can do so much more!"

Wednesday.  I woke up worried.  I haven't met Mary yet!  Am I going to come all this way and not get to meet her?  Fear gripped my heart - what if there isn't a High School by the time she's in 8th grade??  What happens to little girls when they have no place to go?

Friends, something happened to me as I pondered and processed it all.  I liken it to that time when inevitably the Grinch became aware that his heart had grew three sizes.  In that moment, I realized that every single one of the children became collectively my "Mary".  I held their hands, looked into their eyes, laughed with them, learned from them, played games, sang songs and prayed prayers.  I listened to their hopes and dreams, I saw the needs, and just barely scratched the surface of their fears.  

They ALL needed my prayers.  They ALL need my support.  My money feeds so many more than just Mary.  Her name became just one of the more than 500 names at that school.  Her story became just one of the more than 500 stories.  Her needs represent the needs of only one child.  I fell in love with more than 500 children...and I haven't even met the children at the other school! 

Here is one of the banners we made with the children.  The other is identical and was left at the school so they would know that they belong and are a part of something Bigger, and that they matter.

When I finally got to the school that last morning, I knew it no longer mattered if I met her.  I'm sure we had already accidentally met at some point.  I hoped that one of the hands I shook had been hers or that I had been able to anonymously look her in the eyes and smile.  Mary would always have a place in my heart ...and so will the rest - Felix, John, Enid, Hope, Ruth, Shem, Violet, Beckam, Lennox, Tevin, Edwin, Yvonne, Maria, Blair, Stacy, Liz, Griffen, Reyes, Ricki, Kevin, Rose, Solomon, Frederick....and SO MANY MORE. 

As it turned out, I did get to meet her.  She put her fingerprint on the banner and wrote her name.  See it?  

I'll give you a hint.  She doesn't go by Mary.  :-) 

I asked sweet Vera about her family.  She's very shy and not very talkative...and she probably didn't understand my American accent.  I was able to tell her how I've been praying for her and her brothers and sisters for a very long time - ever since I first heard.  I told her that Pastor Benard came over to America 5 years ago and visited my church, and how he shared about this school telling us about her and the other children. I let her know that I'd continue to pray for her.  

Cassie grabbed a few pictures of us while we talked.  Isn't she beautiful? 

Later that week, at the school in Wachara I pick up that children have different names as one teacher explains to the students that they must only put one of their names on the leaf - the one that is their favorite.  

I can't be sure that Vera is the same child.  They seemed sure she was the one.  I could have been wrong about her name. Her photograph (with her information on the back) and the sweet picture she had drawn with a blue and a yellow crayon were still fixed to the refrigerator when I had to hastily move out three years ago.  But really, does it matter?  I can't get the past back, and beauty from ashes isn't copying what was before, it's creating something completely new. Mary is the seed that became that beautiful tree.

I wept a good bit that night in my room.  I wept for each child.  I wept for Mary (aka Vera).  I grieved a little over the events that kept me from coming 5 years ago - the ashes.  I cried tears of incompetence - I had been so tongue tied and felt incredibly awkward that afternoon when I finally was able to met her.  I also wept because I knew that there are SO MANY individual children who are in need, each with a tragic story.  And I wept tears of inadequacy because I can't meet Vera or Mary's, or any other child's needs on my own.  Remember that only 1/5 of the children in Ahero are sponsored?  What about the children at the school in Wachara?  None of them are sponsored. There are more than 300 at that school.   

With tears still streaming down my face, I tenderly touched the leaves on the banner and prayed for each child as I scanned their names, hoping they know:     

I have a maker

He formed my heart

Even before time began 

My life was in His hands.

He knows my name.

He knows my every thought

He sees each tear that falls

And hears me when I call. 

He hears me when I call.

I can't meet their needs.  God can.  

If you feel led to be the hands and feet of Jesus to one if these children, contact Hungry 4 Him to sponsor a child.    

You can also help with a one time gift here through the  You Caring site Jeff set up.