Heather's heartbreak

Our friends Brian & Heather Jamison have had to leave their home in western Kenya, due to the instability there.

Here's an excerpt from what Heather wrote recently:

I am at a loss of what to think, feel. In more ways than one. But apparently not so much at a loss for words as I thought. I have managed to fill up this letter. I guess I’m starting to process everything. Through it all, my heart for Kenya has been burdened all the more and I hope and pray that God will give me a full lifetime to rally for the children of Kenya and for the unreached people groups there in His name.

But, even so, guilt strikes me when I consider my own temporary loss of stability, structure, location and dreams in Kenya and feel that pain but then place it against the backdrop of the 300,000+ people who are in refugee camps - who lost everything, some the lives of their loved ones. I feel so guilty for bemoaning my own inconveniences internally when I think of them. My loss and transition is nothing in comparison. I guess that’s why I haven’t said much until now. It’s been too much to process. I’ve been in daily contact with our national team who are bringing more children into the Legacy program who have been affected by the violence, who are sending all 50+ students off to school, who are still going on with the business of looking for the newest cow to buy for a lovely, elderly widow named Mary who used to bring 5 or 6 eggs when she could - just to say hi - and who lost her husband, shot to death in a burglary, many years ago - leaving her with twelve children to raise and no education, no job, no income. Oh Mary, I pray this cow will help you. And that we can get another one soon. And then one more. Three milk cows are usually enough to sustain a family. But then I think of the unrest. Will someone steal it? Kill it? Chase them away - eventually. And my heart breaks. Wonders. And leaves me looking to God all over again. Praising Him for His divine protection and leading. And asking Him to continue it. Not just for me and my family - but for the hearts who beat in Kenya and who bow to the same God I know, who loves them so much more perfectly than I ever could. I have to trust Him. Ultimately, we all do. It’s just in times like these . . . . you see it, feel it, taste it --- so much more clearly.

So I guess, for now at least, I shouldn’t say much more at all.

Other than that I still have hope. I still believe. I still have a dream.

For Kenya.