People often imagine that my work in Kenya begins when the plane lands in Nairobi.

It doesn’t.

In many ways, the work begins long before that.

This trip feels different from previous ones. In the past, I usually traveled with a very specific project already in motion. Last time, so much of my energy centered around helping build up Mama’s chicken farm. There was a clear mission, clear goals, and a very tangible need sitting in front of us.

This time feels… different.

This trip is less about stepping into a project already defined and more about stepping into the unknown. And if I’m honest, that requires a different kind of faith.

There is something both exciting and unsettling about not knowing exactly what God has planned.

But before Kenya comes the beautiful chaos of preparation.

The weeks leading up to this trip have been full. I'm putting together a yard sale where I hope to gather at least enough funds to cover the supply request from the Shelter.  

I've also been spending time tutoring to raise extra funds, squeezing in sessions between all the normal demands of life. The end of the school year always feels like a marathon. Closing out a classroom is no small task, especially when that classroom is full of energetic little humans who somehow need you to answer fifty questions before 9 in the morning.

In between lesson plans and report cards, I’ve been gathering small gifts to bring with me. Letters for healthcare workers. Pictures for the family in Migori. Little treasures like earrings and perfume.

I have learned that sometimes the smallest gifts carry the deepest meaning. A handwritten note can travel farther than we realize.

And then there is packing. Practical essentials first:

Fan? Packed. Kind bars? Packed. Beef jerky? Absolutely packed. (BTW thanks to my preschool class for supplying me with enough end of year snacks to hold me over until Christmas.)

At this point, I’ve accepted that part of international travel is simply deciding which random comfort items deserve precious suitcase real estate.

As I zip up bags and mentally run through checklists for the twentieth time, I keep coming back to one thought:

Sometimes we think purpose only exists in the big visible moments, the trainings, the projects, the breakthroughs. But often the real work begins in quiet obedience. In saying yes before you know the details. In going before the full picture is clear. So that is where this journey begins. Not with answers. Not with a perfect plan.

Just with open hands, a willing heart, and trust that there is purpose waiting on the other side of the ocean.