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Helping shape lives that will change the future.
August 27, 2010 1:52 pm

Can you hear my heavy breathing?  Can you feel my heart pounding?  I have just come up the hill with our first aluminum container of milk.  The hillside that RVA is built on would be a tough climb back home in Missouri, but add to it that we are 7,500 feet above sea level.  Every time we arrive back at our dorm we are out of breath!  I know, it is good for us.

To get milk for our family, I took our three liter aluminum container down the hill to the cafeteria.  They receive milk straight from the farm, pasteurize it and separate the cream.  I felt the side of the aluminum container after the worker filled it, and it was warm.  Not the way we are used to getting milk back home!

Beside our house all four of our boys are playing a pick up game of soccer with four of our dorm boys.  I cannot tell you how impressed I am with each of the eight boys we will have in our dorm for the next year.  Two fifth graders and six sixth graders.  Their parents are some of the most incredible people I have ever met.  Some work deep in the bush (one family drove 16 hours to get to the closest airport for the two and a half hour flight to Nairobi).  Others are in countries that can be very hostile toward Christianity.  Yet each of these eight boys has a sweetness, and tenderness toward Christ.

We are in a brotherhood.  Not just because we are in a dorm with 13 guys (Jennifer is the only gal), and not just because almost everyone in our dorm has brothers and no sisters, including Jennifer and I, only one of the fourteen has a sister.  Thirteen of us have only brothers!  No, we are a brotherhood, because we are all on the mission field.  All of the guys in our dorm were very open in welcoming each other, even the new guys.  There is a lot that goes into that brotherhood, and I will try to cover more about that in future blogs.

Tonight, as I was tucking in three guys I asked if any of them wanted to pray before I turned out the lights.  Two hands shot up before I could even finish asking, so I let them both pray.  What I heart from these two sixth graders just blew me away.  There was a childlike faith and genuineness from both of them.  After amen was said, I was trying to wipe the tears from my own eyes and quickly turn off the lights.

I also learned a new term tonight.  “Missionary Midnight”.  Missionary midnight hits about nine in the evening.  A missionary’s day is so full that nine p.m. feels like midnight.  Jennifer and I have felt that every night since we left America!

Good night!