4:37 p.m. Kitale, Kenya

Until I stepped off the bus into Kitale, Kenya, my Swahili vocabulary consisted of two words: "Hakuna matata!" Bright faced Kenyans immediately greeted me with shouts of "Jambo," and "karibu," along with a string of words that to an average American, were unintellible.  Each person grasped my hand enthusiastically, some even hugging me, while continuing to chatter in cheerful voices.

We, on the other hand, had just emerged from an 8-hour bus ride, complete with bumps that smacked your head on the ceiling, a rollar coaster of turns and swerves, and an encounter with the "squatty potty" BYOTP (Bring Your Own Toilet Paper).  I was looking forward to a warm dinner, and crawling into a soft bed.

But THIS is Kenya.  Here in Kenya, we live in the moment, without looking forward.  So we embarked on another car ride, cramped and dark as we attempted to match the enthusiasm of our gracious host.  When we reached his house, he welcomed us into mud-walled room, with a couch and table.  And we talked. And talked. And talked. And Caley fell asleep :)

Thankfully, around 10:30, dinner arrived from a slew of tired-looking women.  But each person excitedly welcomed us and blessed us, only needing a smile to satisfy their happiness.

This is how it's been!  Although the transition from toilets to mud holes, from running water to a bucket, from faucets to a half-mile walk, from dry-wall to mud, from pet dogs to pet geese was a little bit shocking, the people were the most different: living simply in continuous awe of God!  Every meal is seen as a miracle, a green crop is a precious gift.

And on Sunday, when 100 Kenyans packed into the church that Pastor had built, the entire day was a celebration.  The music flowed and dust was swirling thickly through the air from the energy of dancing feet.  The children were the image of joy, wanting only to touch our hands, our faces, our feet--so Christ-like we had tears in our eyes.

And the music never stopped.  As we woke up on Monday, our first day of ministry, a group of Kenyans had already beat us to the church, singing and playing the piano, always praising God.

This is the beauty of simplicity.  There is life and there isn't.  There's blessings and there's trials, but through it all, God's love prevails!  Our first day of door-to-door evangelism was incredible, because all we brought was a prayer and a book full of hope.  "I just need salvation," one Kenyan told me in the dark walls of his house.  "My sons and I--we are ready for His redemption."

So many times, as we tried to plan our logistics of money, travel, and lodging, we were met with the frustration of vague answers.  But it's finally clicked.  "Let us just sit," Pastor James keeps saying.  "Let us just sit and enjoy."

So I dare you.  Don't worry about the dirt in your water bottle, or the spider on your shoe.  Instead, look up.  Look up to what matters, to that which truely satisfies.

So all the way from Llavo Village, 10 miles outside of Kitale, in Kenya, Africa.  I challenge you.  Stop, drop your shoulders and sit within the beauty of God's quiet simplicity.