Adventures in Kenya, Part 3: Friends and Bombs

One of the greatest things about being involved as a volunteer with Tumaini International Ministries www.tumainiinternational.org for all these years has been the opportunity to develop great friendships with incredible people on the other side of the world. 10 years since Tumaini was formed to address the AIDS pandemic in sub-Saharan Africa, specifically in the area of Masii, Kenya- I feel like I've been blessed to meet men and women who are so genuinely in love with God that all they do pours love into the people around them. They are on the front lines, working daily to bring hope and healing to their community. You would think that given the context of the work and the enormity of the problems they are faced with, these would not be fun people to hang out with. Too serious, too stuffy. Nothing could be farther from the truth! Along with their tremendous passion for helping the kids and working with families who have suffered so much, each of these men and women have a deeply rooted joy that is unmatched. We laugh together until we are wiping tears away and holding our sides. We have a few running jokes that get pulled out with each visit. We share stories, family updates, meals, and dreams together. And through it all, when someone is in trouble, we are there for each other. I could not be more grateful.

When our friend Paul received my panicked email explaining that we were in Nairobi and were in the middle of a very unpleasant fiasco and really needed his help, he didn't hesitate. I explained that we were not hurt nor were we in danger, just that we needed to leave the lodge as quickly as possible. I was exhausted, flustered and at a loss for what else to do, and hoped he could just point me in the right direction. He decided to send Josphat ("Tawa") and Elizabeth to our rescue. They had been out visiting a few Tumaini families, delivering food and supplies, and gathering sponsored child updates when they received his call. They were several hours away from our location, but came as soon as they could and collected us in the Tumaini van. Seeing them pull up to the compound was such a relief! After we exchanged hugs and piled into the van, I silently thanked God for blessing me with such dear friends.

During our time together, even though it was just a week, we grew even closer. Perhaps the fact that we didn't have a big team of people helped some, as it was a more intimate setting and easier to manage logistically. Less like the Wazungu Circus, more like a relaxed visit with out of town guests. Actually, as Paul liked to remind us, "You are more than our guests. You are family!" So awesome! We loved spending time with Paul and his family, Elizabeth, Tawa, Esther- we got to see our buddy Jackson, who has the craziest stories and silliest laugh, and hear about the different kids' families that he was preparing to go visit. We got to spend a bit of time in the office and observe all of the work that goes on, and marvel that anything gets accomplished with the many guests that drop in throughout any given day. By guests, I mean sponsored children stopping by, relatives asking about getting their grandchild/niece/nephew/son/daughter on the waiting list, church members asking how they can help, and Board members preparing for their upcoming meeting. Oh, and us, the big wazungus.

Ever the gracious hosts, Alli and I were treated to a couple of surprise visits with some of the kids that we sponsor. We visited her "daughter" Emma at her school, my "son" Rogers at his home, and even caught up with her "son" Palvine, who has since graduated from the Tumaini program, is taking college classes, and has a full time job. While each visit with the kids was special, this one stood out because seeing Palvine looking so handsome and healthy, able to care for himself as never before, was very powerful.

On the final day of our trip, Alli and I still needed to shop for some materials for our freshly established sewing projects in Masii. Elizabeth and Tawa took us to Nairobi, where we had lunch at the Java House before heading over to the downtown shopping centers. Tawa dropped off Elizabeth, Alli and I as we went on foot to hit some of the fabric shops. The first place we went into was okay, but not great. The next place we went into, however, was a jackpot! Reams and reams of gorgeous fabric: lessos, batiks, pashminas, in every quality and price range, plus a few finished products that were to die for. On top of that, the shop owner is a wonderful gentleman- welcoming and knowledgable with a warm Indian accent and 37 years in business at that location. We were having a blast going through fabrics when suddenly, the sound of an explosion caught us all off guard. This was much louder and more resonant than a car backfire; it was a bomb, and from the sound of it this was much too close for comfort. We all froze, slowly staring at each other with eyes wide. Within seconds, we could see a wave of panic on the faces of people outside as cries went up and people ran into shops, pulling down the metal security bars over the doors and huddling. The stark reality of life in the developing world was in our face. The next five minutes seemed like an eternity, as Alli and I stood out of sight, pressed back into bolts of fabric covering the walls of the small shop. Strangely, neither one of us felt panicked or afraid. "You OK?" I asked, "Yup, I'm good!" she replied. "That was a bomb," I said. "Yes, sure sounded like it," she replied. Standing there with my BFF, I was glad that the friend I have been closest to for my entire life was right there. It felt like we were kids again, playing superheroes in the backyard. Just like in our childhood adventures, somehow we knew everything was going to be okay. Elizabeth was on her cell phone with Tawa, trying to gather details. "Can you hurry up and finish?" he said, "It's getting bad out here." A few more minutes passed, and then a sense of relief as the security doors went back up, and life as normal resumed. Alli, Elizabeth and I finished our business and then headed back outside to find Tawa bringing the van around the corner just then. We piled back in the van, and got the update from him about the blast. Paul had been on the phone with him minutes after the explosion registered, as it had come out as Breaking News while he was at work and he was of course concerned about all of us. We learned that the bomb had gone off literally the next street over from where we had been shopping. Thankfully, no lives were lost, but nearly 30 people had been injured. Details would continue to unfold throughout the day and by the time we had flown out and were on the ground in Amsterdam, reports came that the Somali terriorist militia, Al-Shabboub, was suspected in the attack and a suspect had been identified. Needless to say, but our prayer life improved dramatically and we ask God for continued protection for our friends abroad.

You might think that such an adventure as this would discourage me from returning to Kenya, but you would be wrong. All the more, I want to strengthen my ties to the work being done in Kenya, both through Tumaini International Ministries and through our small business, WE Care Jewelry & Accessories, LLC. Terrorists SUCK, anywhere in the world. And the truth is bad things happen everywhere. I'm not rushing into the face of danger. I'm not a hero. I'm not a soldier, God bless them. I'm just a woman who believes that through education and development, through love and empowerment, this is how we can work together in building a better world and fostering peace. That, my friends, is worth living for.

Adventures in Kenya, Part 2: Masii

When our friends Elizabeth and Josphat ("Tawa") came to pick us up later that day, we knew that they had been driving for several hours. Seeing them and being embraced by them was just the salve our wounded hearts needed. Leaving the lodge, we said goodbye to some of the friends there who were actually sad to see us go; they were not aware of the fiasco, and genuinely confused by our sudden departure. I felt strongly that in time we could resolve the issues with the lodge and our friends in Nairobi, and hopefully clear up any misunderstandings before returning to Los Angeles. After all, these are people who are very dear to me and whose work I love and respect. We wanted to be able to continue supporting their good work, and we especially wanted to continue providing assistance to the ladies at the work sites who we had met earlier in the year. We pulled away in the little Tumaini van and began to tell Elizabeth and Tawa what had happened. Like us, they were stunned. They shared our confusion and even our frustration about the lack of communication and strange response from our lodge hosts. Most of all, they just told us over and over that they were so glad to see us and that everything would be OK. This, we knew, was absolutely true. We settled in to our seats and simply enjoyed the scenic 2 hour drive to Masii.

Along the road, we got caught up on the happenings in each others' lives, heard updates on the Tumaini ministry, chatted and laughed with each other. The four of us on a little road trip, not exactly what we had originally planned, but so right in every way. We looked forward to spending time with these and all of our other friends in Masii, and hoped that we might even be able to visit some of the kids that we sponsor. We began to dream again about new possibilities, and wondered what it would look like to start opening channels for our work in Masii sooner rather than later. Maybe, we thought, God was sparing us not just a few days, but possibly years in Nairobi and instead moving us closer to realizing our dreams in the heart of Masii. Isn't it funny how when you stop being mad- at God, and at people- for things not going according to your plans, that unexpected blessings somehow begin to flow. A heart that holds on to bitterness leaves no room for gratitude.

During the next 6 days, it seemed as though each moment was more amazing than the one before it. I cannot count the number of times Alli and I looked at each other, eyes wide and smiles beaming, shaking our heads in stunned admiration for how the drama was unfolding into a dream realized. It became apparent that we were exactly where we were supposed to be, and at the precise time. Amazing! Here's the bullet point rundown:

+ We had initially planned to coordinate with our friends from the Nairobi lodge to help oversee our new sewing projects. Instead, Elizabeth and another dear friend, Esther, offered to assist us with our work projects in Masii, as long as they could do it on their day off and it wouldn't interfere with their work for Tumaini. They would be the "eyes and ears" for us, helping to coordinate the sewing projects. A huge prayer answered! We gratefully accepted their help, and in our gratitude offered to compensate them for the time we knew they would be putting into this.

+ We had initially planned to share new designs with ladies in Nairobi who would be producing our newest product line. Instead, we identified and met with Irene, the perfect candidate to begin producing this line right from Masii (technically, from a very nearby village- photo above). A young widow with 4 children, all sponsored through Tumaini, Irene is a trained seamstress who had dreamed of opening her own dressmaking/tailoring shop to support her family. As we learned from our friend Elizabeth, Tumaini had located and secured an available shop for Irene and had just received funding to cover her set up costs, including her own sewing machine, materials, and 3 months rent! It was scheduled to be set up next week. As a new business, Irene would have had a difficult time attracting customers... so Tumaini had contracted with her to begin making school uniforms for some of their sponsored children. We met with her and shared our plans, showed her some patterns, and asked her if she thought she could take on the project. Her response? "I had just come here to greet you after leaving my prayer and devotions meeting at my church. Yes! This is an answer to my prayers. Praise God!" You could have knocked me over with a feather.

+ We had originally planned to restock our inventory of beaded necklaces and bracelets made by the ladies in the Nairobi work sites. Instead, discovered a local source near Masii that had a group of women who had started making beautiful beaded jewelry! There are currently no groups in Masii doing this that we are aware of, as it is anything but a tourist location. Later in the week, we met with my dear friend Mary, a strong leader in the local community of Masii, and shared our ideas with her. This forward-thinking, bright businesswoman jumped at the opportunity to partner with us, and pledged to help identify and locate enough women locally who would want to become artisans. The chance to not only learn a marketable skill, but to also meet regularly with women who were struggling just like them, build each other up, and minister to their needs while paying them fair and honest wages was exactly what we were hoping to initiate. Knowing that it would only work if it came from within Masii, together we could help provide a vehicle for these ladies' personal empowerment and the resources to help them better care for their families, without being forced to resort to prostitution, drugs, and a life of alienation. "I can think of 50 women right now who could do this," said Mary. "Let's start with 5, and build up from there," we responded. Even as I write this, I relive the moment and get the goosebumps all over again.

There were many more affirming instances throughout the week, these are just a few. But aren't they amazing?

NEXT: Adventures in Kenya, Part 3: Friends & Bombs

Adventures in Kenya, Part 1: Nairobi

It has been exactly 1 week since returning from my latest trip to Kenya. 1 week to kick jet lag to the curb, resume my "normal" circadian rhythm, and process the most recent chapter in pursuing my dreams. **No big deal**

In church circles, we like to talk about things like "Vision" and "Leaving a Legacy" and other grand pursuits. This isn't such a bad thing, if you can absorb it and apply it without becoming pompous and judgemental. When you actually do believe that God has created you with gifts, talents, and a purpose beyond only seeking your personal pleasure, it can be the impetus for doing some pretty great things with your life and enjoying yourself in the process. Helping others, caring about people from all walks of life, becoming a champion for causes that touch your heart- not a bad thing at all. But far too often, our church huddles and pep talks about visioneering and legacy-leaving don't push us past our fears of looking like a complete weirdo. So we get excited, take a few tentative steps forward, and then return to the hamster wheel of same old same.

In October 2011 when my BFF and I launched our small business together, I have to admit that I was totally high. Not on substances (20 years clean, baby!) but on the possibilities that lie in front of me. It was an adrenaline rush like no other, and I was dizzy with excitement. I still am! For all of the years that I've worked in Non-Profit and travelled the world for ministry and missions, I felt I was truly stepping into an arena of faith that my soul was desperately craving. Finally, my years of dream-chasing were beginning to take the shape of a lifework I could actually be proud of. And so what if I look like a complete weirdo? That isn't exactly new territory, so bring it.

OK, so back to the Kenya trip: Our purpose for this visit was very specific. We planned to work alongside one of our partners, visiting a work site in the Nairobi slums and sharing ideas on new products, efficient shipping practices, and spending time visiting and encouraging the amazing ladies that we had met earlier this year. I had been in touch with our in-country contacts for months in advance and had arranged our airport pick-up, lodging, and itinerary for the short week that we would be there. Dates and times were shared. Logistics confirmed. Everything was set up, and we were SO excited to begin this part of our small business journey. Two days of air travel from Los Angeles to Amsterdam to Nairobi, crossing multiple time zones, stuffed into cramped seats for an inhumane length of time- not to mention the expense of travelling even in Economy Class- we were ready, and beyond excited! And that's when things got weird.

We arrived at the airport in Nairobi just before 6am, relieved to be out of the flying tin can and on terra firma. Baggage collected and piled up onto the trolley, the two of us standing out about as much as two white girls in Africa possibly can, we stepped out into the arrivals lobby and waited for our driver, holding up our sign and smiling like pageant contestants. And we waited. And waited. Knowing that Nairobi traffic can be horrendous, we didn't get too freaked out when 30 minutes turned into 45, and no driver had appeared to collect us. I called the lodge manager, a friend whom I've known for nearly a decade, and was happy to hear his familiar voice: "Michelle! Are you here?" Yes! We are here! "OK- the driver is nearby. Just a minute. OK he will be there soon." Great! Can't wait to see you! "Ha Ha, OK see you soon." Another 20 minutes, and there was our driver. We piled into the small car, grateful that all of our large luggage fit into the trunk space and spare seat. As we were riding to the lodge, watching the sunrise bathe the Kenyan countryside in a golden glow, disturbing pieces of the story began to be revealed by our driver. As it turns out, the people that we had flown thousands of miles to see were out of town and would be gone for the next 3-4 days. We would only be in Kenya for 6, and one of the days was promised to friends in Masii- 2 hours away from the Nairobi area. We were lucky that our driver was near the airport at the time I placed the call, because he had just dropped off someone and was heading back to the lodge when he got the call to turn around and come pick us up. Arriving at the lodge, we were grateful that a guest room was still available. We took some light breakfast, where we learned that the main person we had expected to meet with actually had no intention of seeing us and was leaving the country. Dumbfounded, we went inside our room to stretch out, talk through our confusion and disappointment, and figure out next steps. After calming down and assuring each other that God indeed had something else planned, we went into the office and met with my friend to ask what had happened regarding our arrangements. He admitted that yes, we had agreed and confirmed the date and time of our arrival a month prior; yet somehow there was confusion about the exact day, and so he hadn't made our arrival known to the people we were expecting to meet with. Stunned, I asked why he hadn't contacted me if he had been unclear. He responded that he had, in fact, sent me an email... when we were 35,000 feet in the air, on the day before we would be arriving. If I had been stunned before this revelation, I now felt as if I had been punched in the face with a Sherman tank. Nothing made sense. It was one of those cosmic WTF moments, to be sure. Are You There God? It's Me, and I'm Pissed! Angry, confused, crushed, humiliated, you name it- we were suddenly facing the reality that our plans had gone completely to dust, and there was nothing we could do to fix them.

We returned to our room, ranted, cried, and prayed. We figured out that we had 3 choices: 1) Book a safari, forget about work, and leave the lodge; 2) Book a return flight to Los Angeles and leave the lodge; or 3) Contact our friends down in Masii, ask if we could come sooner than expected, and leave the lodge. In any case, we clearly needed to leave the lodge where, for the first time ever, we felt unwelcome and intrusive. I sent an email to our friends in Masii explaining that we were in some trouble, and asked if it was possible to come down to visit them today. Within minutes, I received the response that they would be coming right away to bring us home with them, and that they were delighted to see us sooner than expected. The wave of love that washed over me in that instant was unbelievable.

We had planned to set up channels for our work in Masii sometime in the future, maybe 3-5 years down the road. We have loved Masii since Day 1, and had dreamed of bringing the kind of community development and economic change there among the people who had held our hearts dearly. In our minds, the prudent thing to do was to continue working with the existing sites in the Nairobi slums, build a model from that, modify it and eventually apply it in the more rural context of Masii. On this day, however, we were overcome by the matchless strength of God's timing and will.

NEXT: Adventures in Kenya, Part 2- Masii

Very Superstitious

Friday the 13th! For many, Friday the Thirteenth has been considered to be the luckiest of days, for better or worse. Wikipedia, that bastion of reputable information, has some tidbits of data you may or may not find interesting on the subject

In any case, I find the whole notion of superstitions fascinating. I love the weirdness and quirkiness of people, and it's in our superstitions that this weirdness is often most interestingly displayed. Doesn't matter how educated and logical we may be- how many of us have "knocked on wood" at some point to counter the effects of some bad juju? I do it all the time, just in case. Lucky socks, underwear, hats, shirts, dresses, sweaters, etc. line the closets and drawers of sports fans and athletes around the world. And let's not forget the awesome weirdness of treasured objects held throughout the years by rich and poor alike, including four-leafed clovers, found pennies (heads up only), horseshoes, or a rabbit's foot. Obviously not too lucky for the rabbit.


Specific pre-performance traditions abound in the worlds of art & entertainment, sports, and organized religion, to name a few. I would submit that 'superstition and 'tradition' are just two sides of the same freaky coin, and pity the fool who doesn't hold on to it.

By placing the outcome of any given situation in the hands of Fate, a carefully choreographed pregame routine, or some inanimate object; by giving even the slightest credit to petulant forces beyond our control, somehow makes our lives a bit more interesting and dramatic while diverting at least some responsibility away from us (or our favorite team, love interest, whatever) if things don't end up happening the way we might prefer. It's really only a problem when we get so enmeshed in our superstitions/traditions/routines that we become unable to function without them, when we morph from being lovably quirky to paralyzingly phobic. Example: Holding my cowbell with my right hand only during hockey games, lanyard carefully wrapped around my hand? Lovably Quirky. Driving all the way back home to fetch said cowbell and missing the first period as a result? Time for an intervention. (For the record, this never happened, and we will not speak of it again.)

My Mom, God rest her soul, was very superstitious. She found a way to weave good luck/bad luck throughout our everyday lives. The way her face would light up with delight whenever she saw a penny lying on the ground, bending down to pick it up and giggling like a little girl as she would place it face up in my palm, or how she would always save the wishbone for us when she cooked a chicken, or the way she would call out "Hey! Let's make a wish!" everytime she would see a truck carrying bales of hay down the road... it was truly magical. Sometimes I would just shake my head, frowning at her silly superstitions, trying so much to gain my super-logical father's approval; how I wish I could go back and cherish her silliness instead. Seems only fitting that when she died, it was on Friday the 13th. So, my biggest superstition is to remember her every Friday the 13th, not just on the anniversary of her passing. Pretty sure that today my Mom is giggling in heaven, counting rainbows and breaking wishbones with Jesus and trying to score a four-leafed clover for good luck.

Another Day, or Something More?

What would you be willing to give up in order to gain something that you truly value?

Today is Ash Wednesday, and Christians around the globe- particularly those from a Catholic persuasion- are marking this as the first day of Lent. It is traditionally a time where the observer "fasts" or gives up something for the 40 day period leading up to Easter as an act of spiritual cleansing or religious obedience. It is a practice that has been observed for centuries, for better or worse.

But what about people who are not Catholic, Christian, or even religious? For many, such an observance might seem like nonsense at best and self-aggrandizing, martyr-esque deprivation at worst. But what if it is actually something more- what if it is an opportunity for personal growth, spiritual renewal, and positive change? Just as Mother Nature uses this season to renew and recharge and the earth experiences a sort of rebirth with the coming of Spring, so can we. We can absolutely use the period of Lent as a springboard for renewal in our own lives.

Now, I'm not Catholic, but I was wrestling for the past week with what I would like to give up for Lent this year: Red meat? Alcohol? The F-word? I wanted to be intentional about it, not just pick something random and hope it stuck. I also didn't want to just give up something just to say I did it. Where's the added value in that? For me, it really comes down to a question of what I want to gain- spiritually, physically, or emotionally- not what I want to give up.

Should be an interesting 40 days.

Broken Sex, Love, and Intimacy

A few weeks after returning home from my latest trip to Africa, I'm still wrestling with and pondering over lessons learned and issues brought to bear. The long days spent trekking up Mt. Kilimanjaro provided the perfect backdrop for exploring deep thoughts and sharing cerebral conversations with new and renewed friends, along with plenty of joking around and bonding moments to lighten the mood and distract from the physical pain being experienced. During the toughest stretches though, some nagging thoughts came to the surface, life questions, soul searching inquiries that I suspect will rattle around in my head for a while longer before I decide to actually deal with them.

The one thing that crept up out of nowhere and surprised me, the area of my life that I wanted to believe was in check, is sex. Not that I was having any on this trip!

Sex, or rather, my sexual identity, and how I have come to view sex and actualize it in my life, was staring me in the face after sharing my testimony during one long, rocky stretch of road. And I absolutely hated what I saw.

For as far back as I can remember, I have always identified myself according to sexuality- more precisely, the sexuality of females as defined by American pop culture, i.e., an object of desire. Even as a young girl, I loved Mae West, Marilyn Monroe, Playboy Bunnies and Farrah Fawcett. I wanted so badly to "be sexy" and have the attention [read: power] that these women seemed to possess. I have a distinct memory of a family gathering in my parent's house, aunts and uncles, cousins, and I was of course trying to be the center of attention (oh, surprise!). When asked by one of the adults, "Michelle, what do you want to be when you grow up?" my response stunned and shocked them: "I want to be a SEX SYMBOL!" ::lone cricket chirping:: I was maybe 6 or 7 years old. When asked if I even knew what that meant (I didn't) I replied, "Sex Symbols are the most beautiful women in the world and everybody loves them!" After some uncomfortable laughter, I was promptly excused from the adults and allowed to go back to my room.

Funny story if it ended there, but it doesn't. My faulty equation of Sex=Love was just getting started! Add over the next ten or so years a creepy neighbor who liked to fondle little girls, older boys who liked to play doctor, innappropriate contact from leaders at church camps, repeated sexual molestation from a relative, and wanting to be one of the popular girls (but never quite being one) and you have one very broken young girl with a distorted picture of love.

I did my best to hold on to my "virginity" throughout high school, and really didn't go all the way until I was in college- but I was already what you might call damaged goods. And I knew it. I felt dirty, unworthy and unloveable from the inside, and no matter how much or how little I gave of myself, love just wasn't becoming part of my story. Not the love that I believed in, anyway. Not the pure, deep, lasting kind that fuels fairy tales and romance novels. Not even the supernatural, all-forgiving kind that is preached from the pulpits. Somehow, all I was finding was the broken and twisted kind, the leftover kind. The other stuff might exist, but I was exempt from receiving it.

But sex, now THAT was something that I was good at and could find easily- NO PROBLEM! Never mind that all the greatest sex in the world couldn't heal my broken heart. Never mind that even the great loves of my life would still leave me shattered and empty, always coming back to the same questions: What's wrong with me? Why don't you want me?

Through my adult life, I've tried to find the answer to those two questions. I searched through bad, bad relationships. I searched through drugs, alcohol, and partying. I searched through spirituality and religion. I searched and came up empty, time and time again. Even after coming to Christ, and gratefully accepting the gift of God's grace, if I am honest I can say that I still had the questions of my worth and my desirability as constant companions. And if I am really honest, then I can say that sometimes my religious convictions and my actions just don't align at all. Because as much as I fight to ignore it, I still get crazy lonely sometimes. I still want to someday know what it feels like to be deeply, truly, beautifully loved... but I settle for good sex and temporary intimacy, because my heart is scarred and my understanding of love is still a little bit broken.

It was this realization that led me to renew my vow of celibacy upon returning from Africa. Total clarity, a bird's eye view of my pattern, madness, call it what you will... but I know that this is the right thing for me to do. Until I can get what is broken in me repaired, there is absolutely no sense in creating more damage.

I don't know exactly what the next step is- Therapy? Prayer? More hockey? And I don't know if I'm supposed to put some sort of timeline on this. But what I do know is that I may not have had control over the things that happened to me as a child, but I do have control now. And I'm finally on the right path.

Update: Back in Cali

For the past 2 weeks, I embarked on the adventure of a lifetime!

I can say honestly that this was the hardest (physical) thing I've ever done in my life. The months of intense training and excitement could not possibly have prepared me for the challenge that I faced. Along with 26 other amazingly passionate and slightly insane trekkers, we were on a mission to raise $100,000 and climb Mt. Kilimanjaro- the tallest mountain in all of Africa.

I made it to all three of the hut encampments: Mandara (Day 1), Horombo (Day 2), and Kibo (Day 4). I wish I could tell you that I made it to the summit... but I didn't. But I tried, and even though I was sick on the summit day hike (I will spare you the gory details) I gave it my all, and I got really far- but of the 27 people on our team who started the 6-day climb, only 17 reached the summit and sadly, I was not among them. In the pitch dark and cold, I turned back after reaching just past the halfway point of the first peak during final ascent, unable to complete the segment. Imagine my heartbreak and disappointment. Kili humbled me!

Nonetheless, I am proud of what I was able to do and more importantly, what we were able to do as a team: raise desperately needed funds for Tumaini International Ministries to benefit AIDS orphaned kids and build community in Kenya, East Africa! At last count, we had raised about $85,000 of the $100,000 goal!

The 17 men and women on our team who did reach the summit of Uhuru Peak are superstars in every way. I am in awe, and have nothing but the greatest respect for each one. However, I also have the greatest respect for everyone who stepped out of their comfort zone and onto that mountain- whether they made it to the top or not. Without question, every one of us had to dig down deep and find the strength and courage to do something ridiculous, personally challenging, and sacrificial. And because of the kids and families we were doing it for, it was totally, unequivocally worth every torturous minute.

Back in SoCal and the comforts of home, I'm slowly recovering from the grueling travel schedule, jet lag, and beat-down that Kili gave me. My face, which was grossly disfigured from swelling, blisters, and sun/windburn, has returned to almost normal. The swelling on my feet is almost gone, along with the blisters, and the toenail that I'm about to lose will surely grow back in due time. And yes, given the opportunity, I would absolutely try again to reach that stinkin' summit and make Kilimanjaro my footstool... you win this time, Kili... but watch out, I may be back.

There is much and more that I still need to process from all I experienced in the last two weeks. So many things came to the surface that I want to, need to, deal with... good things, ugly things, lots of things. But for right now, for this moment, I'm content and grateful to be home and richer for the experience.