Dusty Shoes

I like the story a pair of shoes can tell. The new scratches are likely from my daily hike up a steep cliff side to the dining room.  There is a stain from spilled chai, taken with friends.  Of course, there is red dust.

I’ve realized each of these hold a deeper value, for me, than they used to.

I  appreciate the beauty and glory of God’s creation, of the Great Rift Valley, more as an adult than as a kid growing up here. Chai with friends has and always will be a special time, but these new friends represent the culmination of my life’s experiences preparing me for this time. I’m fortunate to have traveled to Kenya three times this year, but this is the first time I’ve stayed long enough to get my feet dirty. Apparently I’ve missed it.

So, I sit here writing this, eating my kuku choma, having just washed my Doxycycaline down with a cold Stoney Tangawizi, and processing the day and my time here so far.

The team, these new friends, have done a great job bonding and growing as a team. I’m proud of the way they help one another throughout the day and especially at the computer.  They sing, laugh, and cook together and they’ve welcomed me into the group. I’ve taught them new stuff and they’ve practiced it until they get it. Today they graciously made suggestions when I got stuck.

They are eager and grateful for the opportunity and they understand what a successful program would mean for other people with disabilities, and so we press on.  We have a lot of ground to cover, but I’m confident they are up to the task.

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