Even Resorts Have Spiders

We pull up to a gated property with a large sign made of broken mosaic tile welcoming us to Shelter Yetu. Immediately, I see boys sprinting across the field, shoving each other, laughing, teasing, fully committed to boyhood chaos. We drive past the main buildings, which I assume are all part of the shelter, and head up a smaller driveway toward the back. At this point I’m still operating somewhere between jet lag and mild delirium, but I’m excited. Whatever comes next, I’m ready.

We pull up beside a large water tank near a stone home with a tin roof.

A woman named Mercy greets us warmly. She manages operations at the shelter and also helps oversee the guest accommodations. I’m still not entirely sure what to expect when she smiles and says, “Let me give you a tour.” I happily agree. We first walk onto a big beautiful porch with cushioned chairs, overlooking the hillside. This looks like the spot I'll be spending 90% of my time. Its absolutely serene. 

We pull up to a gated property with a large sign made of broken mosaic tile welcoming us to Shelter Yetu. Immediately, I see boys sprinting across the field, shoving each other, laughing, teasing, fully committed to boyhood chaos. We drive past the main buildings, which I assume are all part of the shelter, and head up a smaller driveway toward the back. At this point I’m still operating somewhere between jet lag and mild delirium, but I’m excited. Whatever comes next, I’m ready.

We pull up beside a large water tank near a stone home with a tin roof.

A woman named Mercy greets us warmly. She manages operations at the shelter and also helps oversee the guest accommodations. I’m still not entirely sure what to expect when she smiles and says, “Let me give you a tour.” I happily agree. We first walk onto a big beautiful porch with cushioned chairs, overlooking the hillside. This looks like the spot I'll be spending 90% of my time. Its absolutely serene. 

We walk through the front door and turn to the open kitchen. And when I say kitchen, I mean a real kitchen. Every appliance you could possibly need. Counter space. Storage. And then… I see it. A full-size refrigerator. Friends, we are already entering miracle territory. Then she takes me to the pantry. Not one… but multiple large containers of clean, filtered drinking water. “All of this is available for your use,” she tells me. I nod and try to act normal. Then we walk into the laundry room. And... a washing machine! 

At this point I’m honestly unsure whether this is jet lag or if I quietly passed away somewhere during transit and am now touring heaven. But we continue. We enter a massive living room large enough to host a whole gathering. Plenty of space for me to organize the many gifts I have for both my family on the farm and shelter employees. I could already envision the assembly line. 

Then bedroom after bedroom. Beautifully furnished. Clean. Bright. Gorgeous. Multiple bathrooms. Mirrors everywhere. And somehow every room is giving… resort. Absolute resort vibes. Then Mercy opens the door to my room. There’s a large bed covered in soft blankets and pillowy bedding. Huge windows fill the room with light. And I just stand there. Frozen, and crying.

I said to myself, I should have known.

God knew exactly where my health was.God knew exactly what He had called me to do. I should have known He would take care of every detail. I should have expected kindness like this, simply because He has been so good to me. Now, I’m not saying this trip will be easy. Easy is never promised. But I am realizing something important: Sometimes God provides specific accommodations for obedience. Not because the work will be effortless. But because He knows what we need to make obedience possible.

I was also told the power is consistent and there is free Wi-Fi! Words cannot express my gratitude. And if that wasn’t enough…There is apparently a full grocery store only 3 kilometers away. And yes...They have Coke Zero.

Listen. I fully intend to immerse myself in this experience. But having a little Coke Zero waiting in my fridge? That feels like a love language from God Almighty. I have Wi-Fi, electricity, clean water, a toilet, a hot shower. And I have Coke Zero. I am thriving.

But before I can fully settle in, there’s one more surprise. Mercy casually mentioned there was a meeting taking place down at the training center that I might be able to sit in on. Its a county-wide meeting involving leaders from registered children’s homes and care institutions. I tried to play it cool. Inside, my brain immediately went: Wait… what? Today? Already? YES!

I had barely landed. I was still operating on airport sleep, protein pancakes, and pure grace. And yet, here was another unexpected open door. What makes this especially interesting is that the work happening here is not what most people picture when they think of orphan care. In fact, I’m quickly realizing this organization approaches care in a radically different way than what many of us grew up understanding. And honestly… It’s already challenging some of my assumptions. 

I have a feeling this meeting may help me understand much more about what’s really happening here and why this work matters so deeply. So for now, I’m going to take a second to breathe, thank God, and soak in the overwhelming kindness of His provision. Then it’s time to step into the work. And something tells me I’m about to learn a lot.