Trainings & Travels - Leading Up to the Trip

Leading Up to the Trip

It feels like everything came together so quickly… and so perfectly.

We recently held a yard sale to help raise money for travel costs and supplies for Kenya, and wow… over $900 came in!

If I’m honest, fundraising is usually one of the most stressful parts of preparing for a trip like this. There is often a lot of praying, planning, and wondering how everything will come together. But this time? It felt strangely easy. Door after door just opened. Funds and supplies just showed up. Needs were met.

And I found myself once again humbled by how faithful God has been in this journey.

But wait… let’s back up a bit.

Let me tell you how we got here.

For as long as I’ve been traveling to Kenya, my heart has always been the same: partner with local people, support sustainable growth, and help strengthen individuals, families, and communities from the inside out. From my very first trip in 2012 until now, nearly 14 years later, my relationship with Africa has been anything but predictable. If you’ve read my blog entry My Relationship with Africa, then you already know this journey has not exactly been smooth sailing.

Actually… I’m not sure any part of it has been smooth sailing. But it has absolutely been God-led. And it has been an adventure.

A couple of years ago, I felt God making something clear in my heart: return to the village, strengthen family units, and help challenge cycles of generational poverty, especially poverty mindset. Now, if you have any background in community health, nonprofit work, government services, or even personal experience with poverty, then you already know this is no small task. Transformation sounds beautiful in theory. In practice, it is slow, layered, and deeply complex.

At some point, my mindset shifted. Instead of asking, “How do we fix everything right now?” I started asking, “How do we plant seeds that change the next generation?” Because if we can create a new normal for children, they grow up with an entirely different foundation. That thinking helped shape one of our first business projects: a kuku farm. (Kuku is the Swahili word for chicken.)

Over a year later, the family is still growing and learning. The children are still in school. The father leading the farm has learned how to secure work outside the village. And the family recently purchased a corn milling machine. Those may sound like small victories. They aren’t. They are evidence of movement. Evidence of growth. Evidence that seeds really do matter.

Last summer, I began praying for God to open the door for me to return to Kenya and continue the work we had started. But life felt… loud. My health had been up and down. Work was up in the air. And before I knew it, another school year had started. I remember sitting with my husband and asking, “How is this going to happen again? Do I need to push harder? Do I need to force direction?” His response grounded me. He said, “We know how God speaks to us. If you’re meant to go back, He will line things up and open doors. He doesn’t ask us to force ministry. He asks us to stay aware, keep listening, and be ready.”

That stuck with me. So instead of striving, I chose peace.

I put out feelers. I sent emails. I stayed open. And I waited.

Now, here’s where things took an unexpected turn.

I have always felt a little unconventional in ministry spaces. I’m a Christian, and my work is absolutely rooted in faith, but I’ve never fully identified with the traditional missionary model. I’ve never felt most called to ministry through preaching. I’ve felt called to ministry through practicality. Through meeting tangible needs.

However, I decided to reach out in a direction I normally wouldn’t.

I contacted the missions director at my church. When I looked, it appeared to be the only slightly opened door I could see, so I invited God to start something new, if He willed it. I sent emails in several directions without much expectation. About a month later, I got a callback from a ministry organization called Send Relief. I spoke with a woman based in Atlanta and explained everything, my age, my teaching background, my nonprofit experience overseas, my communication training, and the fact that I was looking for something… very specific.

I basically told her, “I know this is unconventional, but is there anywhere someone like me could actually be useful?” She listened carefully.

Then she said something unexpected.

“This is unusual, and we don’t normally offer anything like what you’re describing… but I might know someone who needs your exact skill set. Would you be interested in serving in Kenya, and if so, would you like me to pass along your contact information?”

Excuse me… what?

A few weeks later, I was connected with an orphan care specialist named Kristen. She lived just outside Nairobi and had been working with a local nonprofit for several years, a children’s home called Shelter Yetu. And slowly, the picture began to come into focus.

This trip would be completely different from my previous ones. I wouldn’t be returning to a familiar village project. I would be stepping into something new, unfamiliar, and honestly, unexpected. Yet somehow, it didn’t feel foreign at all. It felt like pieces I had been carrying for years were suddenly starting to fit together.

During our conversations, Kristen shared about child care reform and helped explain the important distinction between the stereotypical orphanage model and the model that Shelter Yetu operates under. One thing she emphasized over and over was this: anyone involved in their work had to fully understand that reunification was the priority. Children belong in families whenever safely possible. What Kristen didn’t know was that she was talking to a foster mama who already believed that with her whole heart.As she continued describing the organization’s needs, I felt stunned. It was as if she was describing my background, experience, and passions with eerie precision. I had worked in orphanages overseas. I had experience in community health. I had built training curriculum and communication campaigns to help nonprofits grow and reach their goals. And there was more. Kristen explained that they were specifically looking to build partnerships in the United States because that was where they hoped to bring the message of child care reform next...I almost laughed.

For years, I had been told my work wasn’t especially valuable because I didn’t feel called to live overseas full-time. The assumption often seemed to be that if I wasn’t moving abroad permanently, then my contribution was somehow limited. But I had always known that wasn’t true. I knew I was called to serve, advocate, equip, and support international work, even while remaining rooted at home. And suddenly, what had once felt like a limitation wasn’t a limitation at all.

It was an asset.

That realization reminded me of Jesus’ life before public ministry. I often wonder what those hidden years looked like. Before ministry began in His early thirties, He was learning, growing, working as a carpenter, and faithfully serving His family and community. Then, at exactly the right time, everything that had been forming in the hidden years was revealed with purpose. In many ways, that is how this season has felt for me.

Working in marketing. My second career in teaching. All the unexpected job shifts. All the overseas experiences. Even fostering. None of it was wasted. Each season was shaping something in me, preparing me to step into this exact role at this exact moment. I’m certainly not comparing myself to Jesus. But I am reminded that God wastes nothing. Nothing He allows, teaches, or calls us into is without purpose.

Every season matters. Every skill matters. Every yes matters.

So here we are. Back to preparing. Back to fundraising. Because once the door opened, everything moved fast. I purchased the supply list I was given, including mental health and counseling resources, books on burnout prevention, and one giant blue soccer ball that boldly claims it will never go flat. (We’ll see about that.) I also started gathering gifts and encouragement letters from people in my community for the staff I’ll be meeting. And of course, I couldn’t head to Kenya without bringing something for my family back at the chicken farm. Their requests? Earrings. Bibles. Perfume. Honestly, iconic. So little by little, the suitcases are filling. It’s currently the final month of school with my class of littles, and somehow departure day is only one month away. The countdown has begun.

Continue to "A Tired Heart"