Again, we did VBS in the morning. Today's lesson was about helping others, drawing from the story of Jesus helping the blind man. The kids spent time memorizing a Bible verse, doing crafts and playing games.  We are also getting ready for our Christmas Party so the kids are decorating stockings. The kids absolutely love doing crafts, and are very, very creative.  Besides their craft projects, you also see this in very subtle ways as you watch them create belts out of bandanas, earrings out of stickers and glue, and bracelets out of scrap paper and glitter.

In the afternoon we had a lot of time to spend just visiting or playing, what I think of as the “golden hours.” This is why I come, to spend time just talking. We talk about Swahili words I try to learn, favorite subjects in school, what it's like to be outside in snow (hard for them to imagine), favorite Bible stories, the best fruit, the names of the planets, Obama, songs, and anything else we think of.

I suppose all mission trips are similar in that they are the sum total of a thousand special moments. Each trip participant returns home with stories and memories and wounds of the heart unique to that individual. We are all touched, blessed and changed by the children here, by the realities they face and the challenges they must overcome, by their resilience and good spirit, and by their kindness and gentleness. For me, at least, it is a very powerful place to be.

In my mind, each is a literal God-send when I come to Kenya to see these kids. These kids, I mean. As it is my 5^th trip to visit the children of the BCC, I have come to view these children as more than precious children (although they are that for sure). Much more. They are a part of my heart, my soul. The are my family in some ways. When we're apart I long to see them, when we're together I dread to leave. For many reasons, some I'm sure I can't put into words, these gentle, funny, kind, sweet orphans have completely laid claim to my heart. I love them all.

If I sound over-the-top sentimental, I do apologize. After having a day like the one I had today, though, it is hard to not be moved into a certain degree of sappiness. I'll try to clean up my language tomorrow.  

(By the way, all of us trip participants are doing fine.  No problems.)

Presenting some of the world's most beautiful children:

Our time after lunch was spent simply playing, visiting and enjoying the Brackenhurst grass. We played tag, soccer (always soccer), swung on the swing sets and teetered on the teeter totters. We also took a trip to the nearby tea fields, always a highlight of the visit to Brackenhurst. Mainly, though, we simply spent time getting to know one another or catching up on things. The afternoons, with the freedom to just spend time with the kids, is by far my favorite time.

After dinner we played some crazy games all together, then headed off to bed. All in all, today was an amazing day, full of blessings and fun with the kids. For the most part, this will be our schedule for the rest of our time at Brackenhurst. In future posts I'll try to not bore you by repeating the same thing over and over, but will look for ways to bring our experience to life by focusing on the stories and little moments that make such trips so memorable.

How about some photos of the kids:

The children we will host at Brackenhurst come from the BCC (Baptist Children's Center), a Buckner-supported orphanage located in Nairobi. Buckner does a wonderful job locating children for the orphanage, taking care of their many needs, including education, and helping them transition out of the orphanage into foster care or some other stable environment. For more about the work Buckner does in Kenya, go here.

There are 3 primary Buckner employees who serve as in-country staff: Dickson Masindano, Buckner's lead man here in Kenya; Tom Okore, Dickson's able assistant; and Tony Winani, the director/manager of the BCC. All are wonderful, godly men who do a great job serving orphans here in Kenya. There are also many others who work to serve the kids, including the care givers who live with the children, and cooks, gardeners and other staff who work behind the scenes to provide a safe, healthy and emotionally secure environment. It would certainly be a good thing to lift these people up in prayer as they have many challenges to overcome on a daily basis.

Before I run ahead, though, let me provide a brief recap thus far. As for travel, all members of our party arrived safely and without delay. Considering there were several different flight itineraries, each lasting anywhere from 18 to 24 hours of air time, and passing through either London or Amsterdam before landing in Nairobi, the travel couldn't have gone any more smooth. All connections were made without difficulty, and only 1 bag was delayed. Although everyone in the group is definitely tired from the long flights and changing time zones, we're all excited to be here and are looking forward to the next several days.

There are actually two Buckner-led groups here in Kenya: a group from Concord Baptist Church in Dallas, and a group consisting of people from various cities who are traveling independent of any specific group. The Concord group visited an AIDS “baby home” in Nairobi today (Friday) and will head to Kitale - in western Kenay - on Saturday.   The other group, the “Brackenhurst Group,” first did a little shopping at a Nairobi market before heading to Brackenhurst. We are now all seasoned hagglers and everyone walked away from our shopping trip with at least one African treasure. (Note: As I am traveling with the Brackenhurst group, and the two groups have entirely different itineraries, I will only be providing information and updates for the Brackenhurst group.)

After arriving at Brackenhurst and getting moved in to our rooms, everyone enjoyed a brief rest before meeting to talk about our plans in anticipation of the arrival of the kids from the BCC (Baptist Children's Center) in Nairobi. However, the kids beat us to the punch, arriving by bus just as we were to meet. Even better! We therefore were able to spend about 30 minutes mingling with the kids, breaking the ice and starting to learn names. Some of us have been here before and knew many of the kids, while others were meeting them for the first time. No matter, we were all thrilled to have this first get-together with these wonderful children.

To close out the night, dinner was followed by a time of singing and games, including a very funny round of musical chairs. The children had a great time, as did us grown-up types, even though we were all very, very tired. Only after the children left for bed did we realize exactly how tired we really were. But even though we're tired, this day has been such a special time and such a blessing from God.  So, it's an early night tonight as we give thanks to God for our safe travel and arrival, thanks for the time with the kids, and pray in earnest for a good night's rest.

I will continue to provide updates throughout the week while here at Brackenhurst, so check back in.  I'll try to post some photos next time around.  Be sure to pray for our time with these amazing children.  

Some fun facts:

Most Kenyans speak Kiswahili, English, and a tribal “mother tongue.” Many others speak a little French as well.

We saw giraffes next to the highway as we left the Nairobi airport to drive to our hotel.

While bartering for a gift today, I asked the vendor if he could guess the country I came from. His answer, after a brief pause: “Obama.” I told him, “Obama isn't a country. Not yet, anyway.” He appreciated the joke. Kenyans LOVE Barack Obama as one of their own and are, rightfully, very proud. 

The award for the longest travel day goes to Callie Himsl who flew from San Diego to Minnesota, Minnesota to Amsterdam, and Amsterdam to Nairobi. Whew! Makes me tired just thinking about it.

Ken and Linda Stillwell are a husband-and-wife team on the trip. They are also a Dentist (Ken) and Dental Hygienist (Linda). We will hold a clinic for the kids on overall hygienic practice as well as dental hygiene. This should be a very useful and valuable lesson for the kids as they don't have ready access to such information in their schools. Way to go Ken and Linda!

We celebrated Tina Jay's birthday today Happy Birthday Tina!

The weather is pretty mild at Brackenhurst...cool at night, warm during the day.

Brackenhurst is 9 hours ahead of Central Standard Time. As I write this it is 11:00 p.m. in Kenya, 2:00 p.m. back home.

My times flirted around the 5:00 mark, usually slower.  My split times were reflective of my poor coaching and lack of common sense.  For example: 64 seconds, 70 seconds, 78 seconds, 85 seconds.  Each lap just grew slower and slower.  Out with a bang, in with a whimper.

I was fascinated by those who could run much faster.  I once got beat by a runner who finished the race about the time I hit the middle of the backstretch, a full 3/4 lap behind.  As I ran, I watched this lanky dude with amazement, wondering what it would be like to be able to run that fast.  I read books about the great runners, paying close attention to the milers: Steve Ovett, Sebastian Coe, Steve Cram.  But the two runners I found the most fascinating were Roger Bannister and Jim Ryun.

Roger Bannister was the first person to break 4 minutes in the mile.  Jim Ryun, my all time favorite runner, broke 4 minutes...in High School!  I consider these two feats to be among the most amazing, fantastic athletic accomplishments of all time.  Perhaps not coincidentally, the photos that captured these moments are among my all-time favorite photos as well.  

I love photos that capture defining moments.  Some are simple strokes of luck, some are anticipated and planned.  The Wright Brothers at the moment of flight, Earth-rise over the moon, a GI kissing a girl on V-Day... quintessential, classic photos.

But, back to Bannister and Ryun.  Just a man (or, in Ryun's case, a boy) running on a track.  Faster than anyone before them.  Here are the photos:

First, Roger Bannister.  First ever to break the 4 minute mile, and now known as Sir Roger Bannister, a British icon.  Bannister was paced during this run, completed in 1954:

I've always wondered what the fellow holding the clipboard is doing.  He looks distressed or distracted; to wit, he just missed observing one of the greatest athletic feats of all time.  Everyone else, except the timer, are watching Roger as he crosses the tape, witnessing history.  Not clipboard man, he looks as if he's swatting a mosquito.

Now for Jim Ryun.  Remember, this race occurred while Ryun was in High School.  As a Junior.  Ryan broke 4 minutes again, along with another couple of runners of his day, but after that, it wasn't until 2001 until another H.S. runner would break 4 minutes (Alan Webb).  So, to this day, only four H.S. runners have broken the 4 minute mark.  Of course, Ryun was the first and the fastest.  Here is the photo, undoubtedly my single favorite photo of athletic accomplishment: 

I love this photo.  From the jubilant official leaping in the air, to the thrill of the moment written plain on the faces of the fans, to Ryun's expression of pure agony and effort.  This is a photo of a person who has reached the very limit of his potential, who has absolutely nothing left. I love the dirt track, the shoes, the uniform. I love everything about this photo.

As a pseudo-miler myself in H.S., I naturally revered Ryun's running.  Besides being so unbelievably fast, Ryun was also a beautiful runner.  I knew I'd never get anywhere close to his time (unless I was allowed to run 3 laps to his 4), but I was inspired by the effort.  I still am to this day.  

For your viewing pleasure, here is a video of Ryun's sub-4 minute mile:

On the way back, during the 45 minute drive, I did a little singing.  Up front, I am a horrible singer. I embarrass myself, even when alone.  Not atonal, but anti-tonal.  I mean, rough.  But who cares, I still sing sometimes.  I usually make up my own songs, stupid ones about signs I see or cars or farms or goats...you see.  But I also sing the few songs I know on occasion.  One song I like to sing is the National Anthem.  I really love our National Anthem, and I like to sing it when I'm driving.  (Note: it would take about $35,000 dollars for me to sing it in front of an audience; you'll never hear it.)

I also love to hear our National Anthem sung well.  So, when I arrived home I did some surfing to find the the best version of our National Anthem, my opinion.  One rule: it had to be a live performance.  I didn't want to hear someone who recorded the Anthem, I wanted someone who sang the Anthem.

I ended up with three very different but very chill-worthy versions.  Version 1: Carrie Underwood

But it was Christian Bale I was interested in, because one of my favorite movies (well, top 30 anyway) stars Christian Bale when he was just a child, his first movie I think.  It's also a Spielberg movie, a John Williams movie and a John Malkovich movie.  Yet, few people that I know have seen it.  It is Empire of the Sun, and it's a pretty good movie, in my opinion.  Here's a synopis from imdb.com:

Based on J. G. Ballard's autobiographical novel, tells the story of a boy, James (Jim) Graham, whose privileged life is upturned by the Japanese invasion of Shanghai, December 8, 1941. Separated from his parents, he is eventually captured, and taken to Soo Chow confinement camp, next to a captured Chinese airfield. Amidst the sickness and food shortages in the camp, Jim attempts to reconstruct his former life, all the while bringing spirit and dignity to those around him.

Jim loves planes and is fascinated by the pilots who fly them. Here's young Christian Bale as the camp is attacked by U.S. fighter planes:

Outside of Crested Butte, not too far, is a pretty lake - Emerald Lake, to be specific - that lies as the source of a small river.  It's a good valley to explore, and a GREAT lake to visit.  Here is photo of Emerald Lake:

As an added bonus, just such a lake lies in small bowl surrounded by mountain peaks.  Such a bowl is called, I believe,  a "cirque," which is a very fine word.  I'm not 100% sure a cirque with a lake is still called a cirque, but I like to think so.  I do know cirques lie at the heads of mountain valleys and are, thus, usually good places to be.

Even better, a synonym for cirque is "cwm," pronounced "koom."  Now, if you consider the letter "y" to be a vowel, there are very few words left in the English language that are spelled without vowels.  If you furthermore eliminate words that are somewhat onomatopoetic in nature, such as "psst" ahd "hmm," the list grows even shorter.  Of the ones I can find, cwm is my favorite.  Probably because of what it is.

So, I made my way to Emerald Lake, located in a honey of a cwm, and put my own spin on the experience, as has become my once-per-trip tradition:

I'm not sure it gets any better than this: a beautiful mountain lake, an icy Coke, a can of Vienna Sausage, and a cwm.  Perfect.

(Note: Please don't think I'm tooting my own horn.  I get as crazy as anyone sometimes and blow money for no reason.)

So it was, not too long ago, that I dropped a few bucks on something I really wanted.  Something I once loved, but had "lost touch" with, if you prefer.  Here is a photo of my big buy:

Ah yes, a road bike, the Specialized Secteur Comp.  She's a beauty, ain't she?  Why a Specialized?  Because my last 3 bikes (all Mt. Bikes) have been Specialized and I'm brand loyal.  Why the Secteur? Because it was in the sweet spot, price wise, and it is supposedly a good all-around, comfortable road bike.  Why "Comp?"  I have no idea, perhaps just to get me to spend a few more dollars.  Regardless, I've now had my new bike for about a month, and have put almost 200 miles on it.  Hopefully I will keep riding.

Riding in the country is a joy; I can't imagine having to ride in the city.  So far I've seen deer, spectacular fall foliage, sunsets over the mountains, beautiful crimson skies, a huge full moon.  I have NOT seen a single sidewalk, sat in a line of traffic at a stop light, dodged big trucks, or had anyone flip me off.  I'm getting spoiled, I think, by my idyllic country rides!

So far I've settled on a 14 mile out and back route that takes me just over an hour.  My longest ride thus far has been 26 miles, but my day to day ride is the 14 miler.  It IS Arkansas, so I must contend with hills.  My route features 3 big hills, but they ride different depending on whether I'm coming or going.  One hill in particular is very, very steep on the way out, but more gradual on the other side.  As I crest the steep side on my way out, and begin the longer, more gradual descent, I can really pick up some speed.  According to my little cyclo-computer, my top speed so far is 34 miles per hour.

All that downhill speed never fails to remind me of one moment of glory from many years ago.  Here's the story:

When I was, perhaps, 13 years old, I received my single best Christmas present of all time: a Fuji ten-speed bicycle.  Throughout my teenage years I rode my bike all over town, here tweaking and there refining my sleek Fuji machine.  I was really into it; I bought all sorts of tools and became something of a bike mechanic.  Once in college, however, I sort of ignored my Fuji, left it at home and instead bought a Mt. Bike.  One summer, though, I took some summer school classes in my hometown.  Perhaps out of boredom, I decided to pull the old Fuji out, clean it up and return it to its once former glory.  

I ordered new parts, cleaned it and painted it, slapped new derailleurs and tires and brakes on it...pretty much an entire rebuild.  I tightened everything up, lubed the chain, wrapped the handle bars and took my baby out for a ride.

In my hometown there is only one real hill.  At the top of this hill sits the a small college (where I attended summer school) and a decent view.  For my inaugural ride, then, I headed up towards the college to tool around a bit.  Once done, I began to ride back down the hill.  Here's where things got a bit gnarly.  As I began to pedal furiously down the hill, I made the decision to blast through the four-way stop sign at the crest.  No problem so far.  As I cranked through the intersection and picked up speed, I assumed the classic bikers tuck: standing up a bit on the pedals, head down, butt up, nose practically on the handlebars.  As I picked up more and more speed - I must of been going darn near 35 mph - I entered that zone of intense, high focus us extreme athletes sometimes achieve.

Except

Except for the fact that I heard an odd noise, a sort of metallic, single "ping" noise.  Still moving very fast, I glanced down towards my front tire, moving my eyes ever so slightly.  In the brief millisecond before my world exploded, I caught just a glimpse of my right-side brake lever, still attached to the brake cable, somehow free from its mooring on the handle bar.  The brake lever wasn't just sitting there, though.  No, no, it was swinging, swinging in towards the rapidly spinning front wheel.  And there was nothing I could do about it.

The last thing I remember seeing was a single movie frame of black road top, then it was just pain.  Black, hot crazy pain.  In the span of about 1/2 second, the brake lever wrapped itself into the front wheel, the front wheel came to a stop, the bike rotated up and around the front wheel, and the rider was thrown - face first - into the pavement.  I tumbled, a slid, I rolled, I slid some more, and I crashed.  I think, I THINK, I just had time to tuck my head to the side, absorbing most of the impact with my left shoulder.  Thus the broken collarbone.  I also was not wearing shirt.  Thus the unbelievable case of road rash I suffered all along my back and side.  Finally, I also was not wearing a helmet.  Thus, God once again reached down and saved me from my own foolish self.

After I stopped tumbling and sliding, and after my now destroyed Fuji came to rest, I rose to my feet (a bit unsteadily), my left arm hanging from its busted collar bone, blood running down my back and legs, and I pondered what to do next.  Obviously I needed help, so I began to walk from house to house, knocking on doors.  Not surprisingly, people weren't all too eager to assist a crazy looking guy, covered in scrapes and blood, wearing no shirt, staggering around from house to house.  Finally though, a very nice man saw me and gave me a lift to the local hospital.  The nurses spent a couple of hours picking the debris and rocks and gravel out of my back, treated my raw scraped back and busted collar bone, and called my parents.  I spent the next few weeks of summer school wearing a shirt draped over my back, gauze and padding covering my flayed back, my arm in a sling.  I was quite a sight, I'm sure.

That was the last time I pedaled a road bike, until recently, and this unforgettable moment of glory always comes to mind when I zip down any hill.  And believe me, I always wear a helmet and I check my brake levers before every ride.