It’s just a little after 6 a.m. and I’m overlooking the Indian Ocean on the east coast of Kenya. The sun is sending it’s first few rays of light over the dark water below.  I love to hear the sound of the waves crashing to the shore in the dark of night.

After our final goodbyes, we flew out of a small air field in a pasture not far from the hospital and made our way back to Nairobi.  After one night there, we boarded another plane bound for Malindi where we will spend three days “decompressing” and relaxing before traveling home. So far it has been a great family time.

We are so grateful for what has happened over the last 5 weeks. We prayed that my skills in surgery would come back quickly, we prayed for protection for our family, we prayed that we would be an encouragement to all the people we came into contact with, we prayed that our hearts would be open to what God would have to say to us while here in Kenya.  Our prayers have been answered exceeding, abundantly above anything we could ask or think.

My final word is one of thanks.  Thanks to all of you for remembering us in your prayers.  We could “feel” the strength of your prayers supporting us during this entire trip.  We know (without a doubt), we could not have made it without you. Our internet connection was very erratic, but it seemed like when we needed it the most, we could access the web site and read the comments that so many of you left.  Thank you for your timely words of encouragement.  You will never know what a difference they made.

Please continue to pray for our safe travel back as we leave Kenya Thursday.

For our friends at Lakewood, we will see you this Sunday.

From Africa with love,
Paul

As our time here in Kenya comes to a close, I have been reflecting on what has been the most difficult part  of our mission trip so far.

Certainly some things come quickly to mind:  the language barrier or the cultural differences, the challenging travel conditions (did I mention small planes!), the diseases that are a constant threat to all of us, especially our children (malaria, typhoid, TB, worms), the conflict and violence all around our mission hospital and the constant news of encroaching threats, sleeping under mosquito nets (at least once I was nearly killed when I entangled myself in mine in an attempt to quickly get to the hospital in the middle of the night, thanks to Jenn for releasing me from its strangulating hold!), missing many of the “comforts” that we are so used to, having to collect rain water from our roof top, boil it for 10 minutes, then filter it and pour it into our month old, reused water bottles…

All these thing have certainly been different for us and in many ways have added to the difficulty of this mission trip.  But by far the most difficult thing we have experienced so far has been having to say good bye to some of the finest people we have ever had the privilege to meet.

Good bye to the Kenyan people–some of the most kind and caring and hospitable people on the planet.  When you say “karibu” (welcome), you mean it…you have opened your arms and your hearts to us and welcomed us into your lives.

Good bye to all the mission hospital staff who have accepted us as if we had been there forever–to Vincent in the theatre, Collins on the ward, David and Andrew in anesthesia, Solomon in PT, and I could go on and on.

Goodbye to Mr. John Wright a great man and a great administrator. Your joy is infectious.  The sacrifice you make for the Kingdom admirable.  Thanks for coffee and cinnamon rolls and a genuine interest in my family, especially my children.  Thanks for the coffee cake on the morning we left when we had very little food in the cottage.

Goodbye to Dr. Russ and Beth White, Dr. Carol Spears, Dr. Mike and Pam Chupp, Dr. Mike and Julie Ganey, Dr. Chuck and Amy Bemm, Dr. Ben and Jeni Roberts and Dr. John and Linda Sprigel–long term missionary doctors.  You “risk it all” for the sake of the Kingdom.  You are true heroes of the faith.  I admire you all. Russ, Carol and Mike–thanks for watching over me as I was re-introduced to surgery.  Words can’t express my appreciation to the three of you.

Goodbye to Dr. Zach Kasapoi, Dr. Geoffrey Kiprono and Dr. Agneta Odera three of the finest doctors I have ever met.

Goodbye to Adam and Jamie, and Julie and Mel and David and Luke and every other missionary kid who so welcomed my children and made them feel at home.  Goodbye to Jack’s Kenyan “best friends” the Bii’s. The valentine card you gave him will forever be a memory.

Goodbye to Dr. Carolyn Stickney and Dr. Brent and Marg Mundy and Dr. Fritz and Elaine Westerhaut–short-term missionary doctors (just like us) who we came to know and appreciate.  Fritz, thanks for teaching me how to do a C-section, thanks for choosing to celebrate your 50th wedding anniversary on the mission field advancing the Kingdom.  What an example you all are to us. Marg and Elaine, thanks for allowing Jack into your lives and into your cottages (at all hours and without our knowledge!).

Goodbye to Dr. Mary Hermes, a 30 + year missionary nurse and educator.  We will never forget your smile and your joy.

Goodbye to Trish and Scott Hughett, our new friends.  Thanks for your overwhelming generosity to us.

The most difficult thing so far on our missions trip to Kenya has been saying goodbye.  We take great comfort though, in knowing goodbye won’t be forever.

From Africa with love,
Paul

All three arrived at Casualty at the same time.  A dispute over cows had turned ugly.  Guns were fired, two were killed and the rest were brought to our hospital.  The most seriously injured were taken to the operating theatre immediately.  A few minutes later, Dr. Russ and I took this patient to surgery.  He had been shot in the leg just below the knee.  The bones were shattered, the foot was cold and numb.  He lost a lot of blood at the time of the injury and on the way.  A makeshift tourniquet wrapped tightly around the injury and soaked in blood had probably saved his life.

In the operating room, the bleeding was controlled and the injuries quickly assessed.  The main artery and vein behind the knee were torn in two.  Only a few fibers held the main nerve together.  Any chance of saving this man’s leg would require immediately restoring blood flow to the leg.  We quickly removed a vein from his other leg and proceeded to replace his torn artery with this harvested vein.  The operation is difficult because of the location of the injury, deep behind the knee.  Nevertheless, within a little over an hour, the blood was again pulsating to his leg.  Once the flow was restored though, the leg began to ooze blood from where all the bullet fragments had torn through the tissue.  The patient became unstable, his blood pressure dropped, he was cold and his blood was as thin as Kool-Aid.  All of us at the OR table knew that the combination of a cold patient in shock with continued bleeding is often a spiral that cannot be reversed, quickly leading to death.

We called for blood, but the technicians in the lab reported that it wouldn’t be available for another 25 minutes, and they said, when it was available, it would be cold, straight from refrigeration.  The situation was desperate.  The patient continued to bleed, the blood pressure continued to plummet.  Dr. Russ dropped out of the case; he said he wanted to go to the lab to see if he could help retrieve the blood while we continued the resuscitation.  Fifteen minutes later, he returned with a big bag of warm blood.  It was quickly transfused, the patient began to stabilize, and we were able to proceed with an operation that controlled his bleeding.  Everyone in the operating theatre knew that the blood that saved this man’s life was Dr. Russ’s.

A few hours later, I talked to the young man about the operation, and I explained to him that if it had not been for Dr. Russ donating his blood, he would have died on the OR table.  The realization that a man who was a total stranger gave his blood to save his life began to sink in.  He had no words to convey his gratitude.

Later, I was there when Dr. Russ asked him if he knew Jesus as his Savior.  He did not.  And then Dr. Russ explained that it was one thing for him (Dr. Russ) to give his blood to save this young man’s physical life. But two thousand years ago, Jesus gave His blood to save us and give us eternal life.  Even though this young man didn’t commit his life to Jesus that night, I believe a seed was planted in his heart that he will never forget.  That night in a remote mission hospital in Africa, I was reminded that we have no words to convey our gratitude for what Jesus has done for us.

From Africa with love,
Paul

We had the opportunity this Sunday to travel by foot into the hills to a small village church.  My new Kenyan friend, Summary, invited us to join her at the church she is helping to build in her community.

We were off by nine walking about an hour, passing only huts and small tea plantations on our way.  We reached Kapsebet, and Pastor Rono met us at the road and led us to the door of a small wooden room.

Church was supposed to start at ten (but in Kenyan time that meant about 10:30). Slowly the church filled up as people walked from the hills above and all around to worship. We began with singing beautiful traditional hymns.  No one had a songbook except Summary, but the room filled with music.  The songs were sung in Kipsigis, but we easily could follow along in English to the familiar tunes.  Everything was accapella and echoed up the hill along the backside of the building.  There was one hand drum played that kept a beautiful rhythmic beat.  They treated us as honored guests and had lovely throws on the pews designating our special front row seats.  It was a wonderful morning, and we so enjoyed being a part of their service. They translated much of the service into English and made us feel so welcome.

My favorite part of the service was when the offerings and tithes were received.  Many people walked up to place their schillings in the basket, but what amazed me was that many people brought up fruits, vegetables and sugar cane.  Then at the end of the service, the items were auctioned off to the congregation and the profit added to the tithe.  This was such a tender time for us to see people who perhaps did not have any money to spare, but still wanted to give God their best, their first fruits and crops.  Someone bought the sugar cane for the children to enjoy after church; this was Jackson’s favorite part!

Pastor Rono asked Paul to close the service.  Then we walked up the hill where they, with the help of others, were able to purchase a piece of land and hope to build a building of their own someday.  Again, Paul was asked to pray over the construction and finances for this precious congregation.

After the service, we walked another thirty minutes to a home where we were invited for lunch. We had a traditional Kenyan meal of beans, rice, sakumawiki, chapatis (like a tortilla) and ugali.  She used what she had and served us her best. We’ll never forget her generous hospitality. It was a highlight for me to be in the village and be a part in a day of Summary’s family and life.  I especially enjoyed Summary’s children and fell in love with her three-year-old girl, little Flora.

We were “released” to go about 4:30.  In the Kenyan culture, the host literally tells you when you are free to go, and it is considered rude to leave before you have been given permission. We then traveled down the dirt road until we came to the Rickety Bridge.   By the way, the bridge is completely torn down, and the metal frame is up and ready for the work team in March to come and finish.  It was very exciting to see the progress and know that Summary and hundreds more travel this way everyday to come to work in this area at the compound or school. This meant, however, we had to travel over a makeshift bridge below the new one put together with logs and boards inches over the water….another adventure for my tired little family.  I am sure you have read in a previous blog that not everyone in my family was feeling well by this time.:o)

Needless to say, we were early to bed that night after such a full day, some of us doing better than others.  It was such a wonderful way to spend our last Sunday in Kenya.

We could not speak the same language, we looked very different in the small sea of beautiful dark skin and much of the culture was new for us.  But none of that mattered because we were there for the same reason, to worship and honor our Lord and Savior.

It was a glimpse of heaven.

~Jenn

Not long after we arrived here at Tenwek, my girls asked me if it would be possible for them to be baptized just below the waterfall in the river not far from the hospital.  I asked them to think about it for a few days before we made our final decision.  About a week ago, all three sat me down and told me they had made up their mind and wanted me to baptize them in water before we left Africa.

So last Wednesday, we made our way 15 minutes down the rocky path that leads to the river.  A few of our friends came with us making the moment even more special by their presence.  When we arrived, I talked about how proud Jenn and I are of each of the girls for their decision to make Jesus the Lord and Savior of their lives.  Dr. Russ explained how baptism represents the fact that we are cleansed from our sins by the sacrifice of Jesus and that when we are baptized, we leave our “old life” in the water and we are raised to a “new life” in Jesus.  We then had a prayer, and the four of us climbed into the cold water as mom and Jack watched and took pictures from the bank.

My usual routine when I baptize someone is to call the person by name and then say, “My brother/sister in Christ, because of your profession of faith in the Lord Jesus, I baptize you in the Name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit”.  I “held it together” until I called each of my daughters “my sister in Christ”.  I cried my own river of tears as I realized that my children are not only a part of MY family, but because they trust Jesus as their Savior, they are a part of THE family of God.  What a joy it will be for Jenn and I to spend all of eternity in heaven with our children.

As I baptized each of my girls in that cold, African water last Wednesday, I prayed that their baptism would be a constant reminder that there is a world out there that needs to hear and see the love of Jesus.  I pray that each of them–in whatever way God calls them–will be a part of going into all the world with the Good News.

From Africa with love,
Paul

There is a local culinary delicacy here in Kenya called “ugali”. It is pronounced “u” (like the “oo” in moon), “gha”, “lee”; with the emphasis on “gha”. What pasta is to the Italians, what tamales are to the Latinos, what hamburgers are to Americans—ugali is to the Kenyans. Even the mention of its name brings a broad smile to their faces, a warm sensation to their hearts and excited anticipation to their stomach juices. I think it is very similar to the same effect the mention of Blue Bell Rocky Road ice cream has on me.Most of the Kenyans I meet insist that I must try ugali before I leave. Several of my friends have offered to have me over for lunch and make ugali for me. Each time I have carefully but graciously declined. That is, until this past Sunday, when over lunch, the host brought in rice and beans in separate big pots that had been warmed over the fire. And then greens in a simple open pan. And then she retrieved out of the depths of her kitchen a small covered dish with her prized offering to us—ugali. What could I do? I had to be a gracious guest. She dished out a small portion of what looked a little like overly thick grits on to my plate. And she mentioned that if I mixed the ugali with the greens it would be the height of my culinary experience while here in Kenya. My thought was to cover the ugali with salsa and cheese, and perhaps, it would taste like an enchilada. I felt like I had to oblige her. The first bite was quite unremarkable—very little taste except for the greens. I became more daring with the next few bites—ugali alone. I must admit, it tastes like a combination of mashed potatoes and grits. My confidence was surging—so I finished my portion, complimented my host and had a sense of connection with the deep roots of the Kenyan culture.

What happened about 30 minutes later is difficult to explain. In medical terms, I would probably describe it as acute gastric distension with a component of severe, unrelenting gastrointestinal spasms. In Texas slang, I was just sick as a dog. I felt like a nuclear explosion started in my lower esophagus and reverberated all the way down to my toes.

We kindly thanked our host and commenced with our 45-minute walk home—yes, I said 45 minutes! The spasms worsened, I began to perspire, and each step of the way, it seemed like the intestinal nuclear melt-down was worsening. By the grace of God, we made it to our cottage. My family quickly offered prayers for my survival, and I created a concoction of Pepto-Bismol, Tums, Alka-Seltzer and Phenergan (don’t try this without medical supervision) and proceeded to bed, where I lay perfectly still so I could keep my ugali inside rather than outside.

I’m now 24 hours past my first ugali experience and am a little more positive about it than I was lying in the bed yesterday. The only residual symptom I have is some heartburn after meals—compared to the intestinal nuclear disaster yesterday, I am not complaining. I have given ugali a new name—I now call it “Oh Golly!!” And needless to say, I will never let this local Kenyan delicacy ever touch my lips again.

From Africa with love,
Paul

P.S. Perhaps this distress had nothing to do with ugali, maybe it was the enchiladas and pizza I had the night before!!

The cottage where we are staying is about 200 yards from the hospital.  The walk ‘home’ is winding, parts are rocky and even though there are a few lights along the way, it is very dark at night.  Last week I was walking home in the middle of the night.  It was cool, almost cold and perfectly clear, not a cloud in the sky.  There were more stars than I have ever seen blanketing the African sky.  The moon was about a quarter and two stars (maybe planets) looked so big that I felt I could almost reach out and touch them.

I had just done a complex operation on a small baby.  The case had gone well.  The baby did fine.  And as I reflected on that little patient, I was so grateful that over 20 years ago I had spent 6 months of my life at Arkansas Children’s Hospital.  I was so thankful that Dr. Steve Golladay had shown me how to diagnose children with surgical problems, so grateful that we spent countless hours in the operating room together.  First he showed me how to do the operation (that I had just done), then he patiently watched as I did the surgery, then he trusted me to do the operation alone. And now over 20 years later, in a remote part of Africa, that investment has made a difference in a small child’s life.

And then my mind was flooded with all the people who have taught me so much—about surgery, about life, about what it means to be a follower of Jesus.  I’m so grateful to Dr. Everett Tucker and Dr. Hugh Burnett—my partners for many years in Little Rock.  Countless times I’ve been doing cases this month, and small technical “gems” that they gave me many years ago has made all the difference in a case going well.  Yesterday I was dissecting the superior mesenteric vein off the backside of the pancreas (a difficult and dangerous part of the operation) and their wisdom and instruction guided me the whole way.  I’m so thankful to Dr. Kent Westbrook who instilled in me principles of surgery that are still a part of what I do everyday here in Africa.

I’m so grateful for my dad who planted the seed of missions inside of me as a small boy.  His example and his passion to ‘reach the unreached and tell the untold’ is still a big part of who I am today.  I’m thankful to my mom who taught me, by her example, the love and compassion of Jesus toward people who are in need.  I’m grateful to my pastors and friends in Little Rock who reached out to me when I was hurting.  They taught me to run TO the wounded, not away from them.  I’m grateful to my brother who taught me the power of my thoughts, and my sisters and sister-in-law who show me how to passionately follow Jesus.  And I’m grateful to Duncan and David and Wendell and Simone and JT and MA (I could go on and on) who have demonstrated to me what it is like to walk side-by-side as friends for the long haul.  And grateful for Jenn, words aren’t adequate to convey what an impact you have made in my life.

I’m so glad that I had the opportunity to operate on that small child last week and I’m so glad that during a walk home under a starry African sky God reminded me to be thankful for the people who have made an investment and had a lasting impact on my life.

From Africa with love,
Paul

Happy Valentines Day! I hope your day was filled with Love. There was a Valentine’s party at one of the missionary’s homes for all the kids! We made Valentine cards for everyone….with very little resources. It was so much fun making them. I couldn’t wait until we gave them out! Yesterday there was a kipagenga which means ‘coming together’. It was very fun! I ate so much….which most of my friends in the U.S. aren’t surprised. Yes, it’s true…I do eat a lot!

And last night the girls and I baby sat three boys 5, 3, and 1. We wanted to give these missionaries a night out.  I babysat the littlest boy, he is so cute! There were no problems…until ‘bedtime’. Well, I’ll keep you posted.

Georgia Grace

We often refer to hospitals as “facilities” and we talk about how big they are, how many patients they can take care of, how many beds and operating rooms and the newest technology. But hospitals—just like churches—are made up of people. And people determine the level of excellence of the hospital; people determine the “tone” and “spirit” of a hospital. Let me tell you about the mission hospital where I’m working for this month.

Tenwek Hospital began as a missionary outreach when American pioneer missionaries came to this area in the late 1800’s. Because of the faithful service of one man, Willis Hotchkiss, between 1895 and 1935, a “foothold” for the Kingdom was established in this remote corner of Africa. Reverend Hotchkiss prepared the way for two missionary nurses to set up a dispensary on this site from the mid-1930’s until 1959. It was from this tiny two-room dispensary that patients were seen and treated, medicines were given and babies were birthed. I often think about what it was like for those two women, alone in a dark part of Africa, surrounded by all sorts of danger. It amazes me what courage and perseverance they must have had to do what they did. These two ladies prayed for years that God would send a doctor to Tenwek so they would be able to treat more patients. That prayer was answered when Dr. Ernie Stuery answered the call God had on his life and in 1957 began to make plans to come to Africa. In 1959, after language school, Dr. Steury and his family arrived at Tenwek Hospital. Under Dr. Steury’s leadership for over 35 years, and with the support of so many Christians all over America and all over the world, the hospital began to expand. A male ward was added, then a female, then a separate laboratory, then a cafeteria, then new “theatres”, then mission cottages for the resident missionaries, then a nursing school…and on and on.

Now I have the opportunity to take care of patients in those same male and female wards, send blood to the same laboratory, operate in the same theatres and sit at a computer in the dark of the early morning at one of the same missionary cottages. As I walk by the Hotchkiss Memorial Chapel and sit at the Sue Steury cafeteria and I meet Dr. John Steury (one of the sons)…I am reminded that when I serve at Tenwek Hospital, I serve in the footsteps of a long line of men and women who have courageously given their lives to advance the Kingdom and be the hands and feet of Jesus on the very soil that I now serve.

Last Saturday night, I was taking care of several patients who had traveled for more than four hours over very difficult and dangerous roads to make it to this hospital. I asked the resident physician who was with me this question, “Why is it that these men and women who are so terribly sick and injured would pass so many other hospitals and clinics to get here?” She answered quickly: “Because this hospital has a reputation, it’s known as a place where the hands are gentler and the words are kinder”.

The facilities of this hospital are important, but the “spirit” of this hospital is what draws people here. People drive long distances over terrible roads and walk for miles over the rocky hills because of the reputation of gentle hands and kind words. That reputation didn’t start with me, or the resident physicians or the current missionary staff. We are just a few in the long line of faithful people who have created the spirit of this hospital. And I know in heaven right now, Reverend Hotchkiss, and the pioneer nurses, and Ernie Steury are smiling, knowing that the hands are still gentle and the words still kind at Tenwek Hospital. May it always be so.

It is the goodness and kindness of God that draws men and women…

From Africa with love,

Paul

It gets cool in the evening here and every cottage has a fireplace.  We made a fire in our fireplace last night and the embers are still burning as I warm my feet, drink my coffee and write this journal entry.  It’s still long before daylight on Tuesday morning.  I was awakened this morning by a symphony of the songs and calls of what sounded like hundreds of different birds.  All I could think of is this:  “If He cares for the birds of the field…”  What a great reminder that God is in control and that He cares for us and He will take care of us and He will provide whatever we need for this day.  What a great way to start the day.

On a light note, as I was doing my rounds yesterday I began to think of the different expressions the people here in Kenya use that are different than what we use.  Let me give you some examples:  we say “flashlight”, they say “torch”;  we say “surgical tape”, they say “strapping”;  we say “E.R.”, they say “casualty”, we say “O.R.”, they say “theatre”, we say “the tire blew out”, they say, “the tyre exploded”.  One of my favorites, though, is when they have to excuse themselves to go and take care of an urgent need.  We would say “I have to go…” they say, “Please, let me first rush…”

I thought I would give you some snapshots of my busy weekend on call.  Over a week ago I operated on a man who was stabbed in the abdomen and had significant and life-threatening injuries.  He was intoxicated when He came in, so it was difficult to talk to him.  Fortunately (God’s mercy), he has done well and I discharged him from the hospital yesterday.  As I was reading through his chart I came upon this entry from one of the chaplains here at the hospital (every patient is seen by and prayed for by a chaplain every day).  The entry read,  “The patient gave his life to Christ Jesus today.  I led him in confession prayer hoping that God will sustain his salvation.”  As I reflected on this man’s life—a life threatening injury brought him four hours by car to a hospital where a missionary team helped save his life—so He could be introduced to our Savior.  I believe we will spend eternity with this man because of the ministry of this mission outpost.  When it’s all said and done at the end of the day, saving a physical life is important, but introducing people to eternal life is ultimately the most important thing.  What a privilege to be a part of both.

The “Casualty” was very busy this weekend.  The usual variety of things we see…broken bones, lacerations, infections, trauma from road accidents and the conflict that still sporadically happens here.  The emergency room is tiny and cramped.  There are probably 10 gurneys packed into this minute little room.  When I walked in Saturday night, there were people everywhere—every bed was occupied by a very sick patient, family members in all varieties of colored dress huddled by their bedside, doctors and nurses rushed from one bed to the next.  X rays were being taken; lab was being drawn—all in a space of just a few dozen square feet.  The scene was vivid, the smells were overwhelming, and the atmosphere was filled with urgency and uncertainty.  And yet when I walked in to this room…I had this overwhelming sense of being “at home”, content, alive, called…to what I was doing in that moment.    Somehow (for me), when I am immersed in a sea of hurting people it serves as a reminder that:  helping hurting people is the closest thing to God’s heart.  He cares (individually) about every one of the people in casualty, He cares about their family, He cares about their physical bodies, and He cares about their eternal destiny.  What an enormous privilege to be a small part of ministering to these hurting people.

On a different note, it’s been a long time since I haven’t had a car or haven’t been able to travel.  Because of the conflict in this region, we are not allowed to get out on the road at all.  So, to avoid going “stir crazy”, we have been taking walks on little foot paths over the hills to the different villages.  It is so interesting to see the women come to the mill to have their maize ground into meal and then load the meal on to their heads, and with a child strapped on their backs, make their way up and down these hills!  Most of the children run up and down the rocky paths without shoes!  Donkeys pass us loaded with cargo.  Children shepherd sheep and herd small herds of dairy cattle and goats.  Just about every where we go, especially in the evenings, the people carry small jugs or bottles and go to a local vendor who supplies them with a few cups of milk.  Since most don’t have refrigeration, it’s just enough for their evening meal or perhaps breakfast or tea…and then they do the same the next day.  The majority of the villages don’t have electricity, so they cook on tiny wood burning stoves.  When they are cooking at night, you can smell the onions and meat grilling on the stoves.  It smells just like the fajitas at Pappasito’s (a local restaurant in Houston)!  Occasionally, we will walk to a market and have a soft drink—served warm and with a straw!  The other day, one of the doctors gave me a cold Doctor Pepper—I thought I had died and gone to heaven!!

I’ll close with a simple thought.  When I first came to Africa for a summer missions trip after my sophomore year of college—I had this overwhelming impression that one day I would be back as a medical missionary somewhere in Africa.  I’m now 52 years old…and I’m living the dream that God placed in my heart over 30 years ago.  I’m a living example that…you can trust God with your dreams.  So, if you happen to be reading this blog entry…and you question in your mind that maybe the dreams that God put in your heart will never come to past—I want to encourage you, you can trust God with your dreams.  Seek Him first, delight in Him, trust Him…He won’t disappoint you.  “Now to Him who is able to do exceeding, abundantly above all you can ask or think, according to His power at work within you.”

Thank you Lakewood and thank you to our other friends…we can “feel” your prayers and your support.  Have a great week!

From Africa with love,
Paul