Fred’s Story

I was born and raised up in a village area. After the death of my father, my uncle took me out of the village area and promised my mother he was going to help her pay my school fees. He took me out of the village area to the city. Things went well for about 2 years, but after that they started mistreating me. Sometimes they made me stay home from school to take care of their younger children. If I told them I wanted to go to school they would hit me. It progressed to where I was their house help – with all house jobs and jobs with children being mine. My aunt then lied that I had taken 1000 shillings from her purse (about $15.00). They locked me in the house and beat me for 3 hours. They then threw me out of the house and I ran for my life.

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I was forced to join other kids that lived in the streets while tracing my way back home. I expected to have help – to find my way home, but didn’t. I ended up living on the streets.

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Food was a major challenge. The first introduction was how to cope with food problem. We camped at the dumping sites. The competition for food was high since we were not the only scavengers. There were dogs, ravens and marabou storks – as well as many others. So, these meant whoever found the bone first got the meal.

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The garbage piles gave us what we needed – from metal to use to cook- to plastic – even drugs. We could tell the area that had fresh garbage because there would be lots of ravens.

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Another issue we faced was pain. The only solution for pain, stress, and homesickness used to be drugs. The first drug I was introduced to was glue (bounding glue). We would collect plastics and scrap metal from the garbage pile and exchange that for glue. We would camp out and stay at the garbage piles waiting for more garbage to arrive. We always had sacks with us to collect things from the dump.

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The more I stayed there, the more drugs I was introduced to. Marijuana and the like were introduced first. The more expensive drugs were out of reach for us, until we began to be used as peddlers to transport them from one place to another. We would hide them in our sacks full of plastics. It wouldn’t be easy for anyone to know what we were carrying. The owner of the drugs would follow us to where we were taking it – we would just be the ones carrying it. They were scared of the police. I began to transport guns and bullets as well. Many times we were not allowed to see what we were really transporting.

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Death was common. Street kids may meet death from a mob or police. We were considered as dirt. Most of the time we could be ambushed with the police. They would beat us and leave us bleeding. I have seen many die, and many others become disabled from being beaten by the police. They would arrest us sometimes claiming they were keeping the city clean. Spending months at a time in jail was common – sometimes in the police station, other times in prison.

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When we would get sick, there would be no help, no medication.

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After 2 years of living on the streets in these conditions, I decided to quit living the dirty life – and joined a group of muggers. I start becoming involved in mugging, pick pocketing and robbery with violence. Things progressed to threatening people with knives to get valuables, drugging people’s drinks in pubs, and breaking in to their houses. We were now getting a lot of money, but we were spending it drinking and going to nightclubs and bribing policemen and prostitutes.

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As life continued, I was arrested again and put in prison for 6 months. When I got out, I found that my gang had advanced. They had advanced to using guns. They began to train me on how to use them and clean them. While I was still learning, a robbery of a gas station was planned. I was left behind on this, and heard the next day that 2 had been killed and 3 were in custody. At this point, I had to decide if I wanted to leave this life or die.

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I decided to start a small business. It was then that I decided to quit all that I used to do. By conducting small business, I could still get money to drink and enjoy all sorts of life. It was through that business that I came to know my wife. She introduced me to church and encouraged me to change my life. I decided to accept Jesus Christ and surrender all. It was through my wife that I came to know God. I can say the death of my 2 gang members which had occurred changed me too. Because I was supposed to be among the group, I think God used it to show me how much he wanted to use me and how much he wanted me.

The STONE

This is my recollection of the events surrounding my kidney stone adventure in Zambia on Monday evening November 7, 2008.

It all began about 8:00pm on a Monday night while at bush camp during our 40/40 training. Bush camp is nothing more than a tent village. We are sitting around after dinner just chatting with friends. Jan and I decided to turn in and head to our tent. About 15 minutes later I developed this severe pain in my side. I was squirming around trying to find a comfortable position when Jan noticed and asked me “What’s wrong”. I told her about the pain and I was trying to get comfortable.

Maybe I should mention here that while we were sitting around chatting, I was leaned back in my chair supporting myself by holding on to two tent poles. The poles gave way and I went straight back in my chair. Fortunately the tent stayed up even minus two of its supports. It really didn’t hurt and we all got a great laugh (at my expense).

Anyway, I guess we both have this thought in the back of our minds that I’d somehow injured myself in the fall from the chair. Jan decides to go get the camp nurse but I told her to hold on that I was going to walk around a bit and see if it would pass (no pun intended here). I’m walking around outside the tent and almost immediately began re-visiting dinner. I’m beginning to think appendicitis now. One thing I know I don’t want to do is have any type of surgery in a bush hospital in Africa. I’m back in the tent lying down and Jan shows up with the camp nurse, Nurse Janet. She gives her preliminary diagnosis, which is kidney stone. Strangely, I am actually relieved. I’ve known several folks with kidney stones and none of them died or required surgery, just heavy drugs. We, (me, Jan, Nurse Janet, and Mat) crawl in the van and head to the not so nearest hospital. Actually the nearest one is only about fifteen minutes away but the “nice” hospital is about an hour away. We head to the “nice” hospital.

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In the hour long (which seemed like much longer) trip to the hospital, we make 5 stops because one of us thinks he is about to wet his pants. During this time I’m thinking, can we move a little faster please? Is the hospital we’re headed to on the African continent or are we headed much farther away? This is before I look over at the speedometer and see we’re traveling over 100kph. Keep in mind these are “way out in the sticks African roads”. At 100kph you’re just hitting the high spots.

Well, we finally reach the hospital. I have to admit, when I was told we were headed to the “nice” hospital, this is not what I was expecting. The veterinarian we used back in the states looked to be a step above this. Oh well, we’re here and at this point I’m just hoping they have some horse tranquilizers or something to relieve the pain.

We pile out of the van and head for admissions. We walk through the huge bared gate (not sure if it is to keep folks out or in) onto this long covered walkway. I look down the walkway and here’s the image I have. Have you ever seen an episode of Twilight Zone where the man looks down a corridor and it suddenly grows out to infinity? There appeared to be no end. Anyway, here we go. We start walking to infinity, and possibly beyond (I stole that from Tom Hanks in Toy Story). We are about 20 minutes into our walk (it seemed that way anyway), when we pass a wheelchair. Nurse Janet asks the orderly, janitor, patient, or what ever he is, if we can use the wheelchair. He says yes. Now I’ve never seen a wheelchair quite like this. The seat part of it is tilted back at such an angle that I know, in my condition, I can not possibly jump high enough to mount the thing. Fortunately the guy escorting us flips some levers and it turned into a more conventional looking wheelchair. Unfortunately when the guy worked his magic on the chair, the seat ended up slanting unnoticeably forward. I sit down and off we go. After about another 20 minutes (again it seemed this way) of rolling down this corridor, I am slowly slipping out of the chair. All I can think of is the witch in the Wizard of Oz saying, “I’m melting”. Nurse Janet notices and tells our attendant. He begins stopping but I am not interested in delaying any progress we might be making toward drugs, so I just told him to keep pushing.

We finally reach admitting and there sat the admissions nurse in her little white uniform, sweater draped on her shoulders, with her little paper boat hat sitting on her head. She is casually chatting with another man. Nurse Janet begins frantically asking that I receive some pain medication. The nurse slowly looked up and said “And how are you madam.” Oh yeah, it’s Africa. We conduct no business until we have greeted one another. I don’t care if this man is dyeing.

Much conversation, of which I remember very little, is taking place. I have to pee again. I asked for directions to the toilet. The admissions nurse said, “You can’t go here, you’re in the morgue”. In the morgue! Hold on! I think I'm dying but I’m not there yet! To my delight I find I’ve misunderstood. I’m not in the morgue; I’m in the ladies ward. You can see how one would misunderstand that. I’m now directed to the men’s ward. My new best friend, Mat, leads me through this long L shaped ward of occupied beds lining the walls. There are even men sleeping on the floor. This looks like something you’d see in a WWII movie. I enter the bathroom and….. Here’s where I should explain a squatty potty. It’s basically a hole in the floor for you to hit. A good rule of thumb to follow is never look down a squatty potty hole. Squatty potty etiquette calls for everyone to aim well. Unfortunately not all the previous visitors were aware of squatty potty etiquette. There is a bright spot though. This is one high class squatty potty. It has 2 raised foot shaped concrete pads to stand or squat on, as appropriate. This is a very good thing as it turns out. The floor has about a half inch of liquid on it. Not sure but the smell tells me I don’t want to know anymore. All the while I’m thinking; "Why did I wear sandals? I have shoes. Why did I wear sandals? I hope the sandals have a thick enough soles." Also I start thinking; "f you begin to pass out, be sure to dig your fingers into the concrete walls. You don’t want to hit that floor." I can assure you, with the looks of this floor, my fingers would dig into concrete with no problem at all.

I’m finally admitted to the hospital but there’s another surprise. There are no empty beds. This actually works in my favor though because they decide to put me in a storage room. This storage room contains six “never been used” beds (no sheets) and a private bathroom. This bathroom actually has a porcelain throne. How cool is this!

Oh, back to Nurse Janet. While all of this is going on she’s still frantically asking that I receive pain meds. The nurse finally brings me two Ibuprofen tablets and a cup of water. Fortunately I’m coherent enough to know I can’t drink the water. All I need is some parasite making a home in my digestive system or some bacterial thing growing in me like cauliflower, on top of a kidney stone. I ask Jan to get me some bottled water. I take the Ibuprofen all the while I’m thinking; I take four Ibuprofen when I have a headache. Someone is twisting a red hot knife in my kidney and I’ve got two, not really sure this is going to help very much. Oh well, as it turns out within 2 minutes I toss (literally) the Ibuprofen, and the rest of my dinner, out the second floor window. I’m sure glad no one is below.

Nurse Janet is really on their case for drugs now.

They finally decide to give me some real drugs. A nurse shows up with an IV bag, some happy drugs and, the best part, disposable needles. I’m given the injection and now I’m headed to have an ultrasound. I take a seat in the “never been used” wheelchair that’s in the room with the six “never been used” beds. Nurse Janet begins to push. She exclaims “I can’t move him, are the brakes on?” No, that’s not the problem. This chair has four flat tires. She tilts the chair back so she only has to combat two of the tires as she pushes me. Keep in mind that there is a very delicate balance between making forward progress on two flat tires and me being unconscious when my head slams off of the concrete floor. Fortunately Mat, remember Mat, he’s along for the ride, decides he should take charge of pushing the “balanced on two flat tires” wheelchair.

Things really begin to get fuzzy here. I’m now going to my happy place because the drugs are taking affect. All I know is an Obstetrician has me on a table performing an ultrasound. I’m a little uncomfortable with this wondering if they think I’m pregnant. If he asks me to put my feet in stirrups I’m outta here. I will refuse to have a pelvic exam.

I fall asleep (or passed out) during the ultrasound and all is pretty good now. I wake up back in my private storage room, wondering about that pelvic exam thing. Its about 1:00am and I’m resting pretty comfortably now, except that urge to pee every 15 minutes, so Jan and Nurse Janet head back to bush camp. Mat stays with me. He spends the night sitting in the “four flat tire” wheelchair. Every time I need to pee is such an ordeal. Mat gathers up the IV bag, steadies me, and we’re off to my private bathroom. Finally, morning comes and Jan and Nurse Janet return. Here we go to pee again and Mat decided Jan can take over. He also tells Jan “He likes it if you rub his back while he pees.” Mat has my sense of humor.

It is also at this point that a problem develops with my IV. I think the root of the problem is that the needle in the back of my hand is in the vein, through my wrist, and about halfway up my forearm. I think the needle is a bit too long, or either misplaced. The IV tube fills with blood and a clot forms. Nothing is coming out of the IV. The nurse is working very hard to force the clot out of the tube and into my body. All the while she’s doing this I’m thinking, aren’t blood clots moving through your veins a bad thing? Is she trying to kill me? Blood squirts out all over my hand soaking the tape holding the needle in place. It looks pretty messy. The nurse disappears and comes back a few minutes later with a strip of tape. She decided that the blood is too messy looking so she covers it with more tape so it doesn’t show. Don’t bother replacing it, just cover it up. Outta sight, outtta mind. She never does get the IV flowing again and left.

It’s at this point I realize that the furniture must have been stored in this room for a very long time. I’m thinking Ronald Regan was president when it was stored. I am covered with dust and dirt. Unfortunately I did not know about the dirt part earlier. I’m looking like Pigpen from Peanuts. They now, at my expense, have one clean bed.

Throughout my stay, there is a steady flow of folks wandering in my "PRIVATE" room to see the mazungu (white person). One guy wandered in wearing a lab coat and we ask, "Are you here with the lab results?" To that he responds "No, I'm just here to see the big guy." Obviously they don't see many wazungu (multiple white people) at this hospital.

All in all it went okay because they gave me drugs and ran some IVs through me. To my delight, it is all done with disposable needles (This is not always the case in Africa). I'm really not sure if I’ve ever actually passed the stone or if it's still in there waiting for the most inopportune moment to rear its ugly head again. I strongly suspect that I haven't passed it because I have not heard a concrete block size bolder hit the toilet yet (Anything that hurt that bad must be huge).

Oh well. I’m alive and it’s fun to look back and laugh. To all my friends who’ve had experience with a stone, or women who’ve given birth to a 10 pound baby, I can now sympathize with you.

This is my (Jeff’s) version of the events of November 7, 2008. Someone else may have a different version but since it’s my kidneys and my stone I consider myself the authoritative source.

Oh, as a foot note here, we visited the nearest hospital in Petauke on Wednesday and it was confirmed that we made the correct decision to head to the “nice” hospital. We visited the British, Indian doctor on staff and he said they wouldn’t have been able to help me. We then visited the clinic in town and the doctor there told me my problem was my mattress. My mattress! Is he kidding! Nope, he was very adamant that I should change my mattress. We slowly backed out of the clinic.

Prayer requests 9/21/08

For us to get acclimated to the area, weather and altitude

For Jeff to learn the network system at the mission office

For Jan to learn all she needs to learn for booking travel arrangements for the missionaries in our region

For our relationships with the other missionary families and the Kenyans who are working with us at the mission office

Jan's Healing

My Journey with God

As I prepared to go to Kenya to serve God full time on the mission field I wanted God to chip away everything in my life that needed to be removed to help me look more like Jesus. I never knew it would be so painful! But I have learned to Praise the Lord through adversity. I have tried now to document only a small amount of what He revealed to me during our spiritual journey together. I am praying that it will bless others to hear of God’s faithfulness to one who cried out to Him.

On June 3, 2008 during orientation training for going on the mission field to Kenya, we had a time of personal spiritual retreat. During this time I wrote these words in my journal:

“Dear Lord, as you search me and examine my heart, may you reveal to me all that displeases you. My heart’s desire is to please you and if it takes letting go of other things that are presently in my heart to do that, I give you permission to rid them from my heart and my life that I might be a living sanctuary for you.”

On Friday June 6, 2008, our loving and gracious heavenly Father knocked me completely off of my feet in order to get my complete attention. What began as panic attacks during a stressful part of our training worsened over the next few weeks until I suffered a nervous breakdown. There were many days that I was barely able to get out of the bed and put one foot in front of the other. I lost weight as my stomach was so nervous, it would not allow me to even eat. There were many sleepless nights and long, dark days. I continued to slide down and down until I was at the bottom of a slimy pit crying out to God to deliver me.

Over the past few years, I have been very busy being a “do-er” for the Lord. Even though I spent time with the Lord every day, I put more value on my “work” for Him than I put on my time “being” with Him. I am sad to say that I even took great pride in my achievements and accomplishments for the Lord. I was so busy doing that I could not be all God wanted me to be. Even though it was through a painful process, He allowed me to be placed in a position that all I could do was to “be still” before Him and focus my eyes and my heart on Him. Psalm 46:10 Be still, and know that I am God, I will be exalted among the nations. I believe that He had many things He wanted to tell me that would allow me to serve Him more effectively on the mission field and He wanted me to know them before I left home. God is Sovereign and His hand is in every experience that happens in my life. I never doubted that He was allowing me to suffer this much pain for a very important reason and I wanted to come out rejoicing. If I allowed Him, He would receive all the glory!

Over the years God has allowed me to hide some of His Word in my heart. It was these verses that kept going through my heart and mind during my darkest hours when I was too weak to even read my Bible. This has given me a stronger desire to continue to memorize His Word.

I knew that God had a plan and a purpose for me and that it was not to harm me but to give me hope and a future. So I began to pray to Him and seek Him with all of my heart. (Jeremiah 29:11-13) As I cried out for insight and understanding, I began to search God’s Word and He revealed to me many hidden treasures. He increased my wisdom and understanding of who He is and how much He loves me and wants me to live a victorious life. (Proverbs 2: 1-12)

One of the major things I learned is that God doesn’t need me and my many talents to accomplish His work, but I need His mercy and His grace every day. Now as I have spent many hours crying out to God from the bottom of a slimy pit, He has revealed Himself to me in ways I never knew Him before. He has revealed sins to me that I needed to confess. He has brought to my mind attitudes that needed to change. He has brought to my mind forgiveness that I needed to extend to others who have hurt me. God reminded me that He wanted a broken and contrite heart from me. (Psalm 51: 17) I needed some humbling. As I have spent time “being still” with the one I love, it has increased my spiritual hunger to know Him more and more.

Because God loves me so much, despite the pain or suffering I may go through, somehow He will work it out for my good. The painful time that I went through was a refining process that has allowed me to grow so much closer to Him. 1 Peter 5:10-11 And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the power forever and ever. Amen.
God taught me that confession really is good for my soul. I learned that confession is more than just confessing my sins (which takes a while when I get specific). Confession is also baring my heart and soul before God. Confession takes place every time I tell God how much I need Him in my life. Confession is also believing that God has forgiven me and taken my sins and thrown them behind His back, never to be seen again (Isaiah 38:17).

God has the answers for all of my trials and He wants me to understand each and everyone. Sometimes He uses Scripture, other times He uses pain, but many times He uses other believers. Some who have gone through the same pain or have learned the same lesson and others who have studied His Word and are able to explain it plainly to simple folk like me.

As I have suffered through some of the darkest days of my life thus far, God revealed to me the importance of prayer partners and prayer warriors. Having partners to share my pain and lift it up to the Father is such a blessing. I now know how important it will be to keep these prayer partners informed of specific prayer needs and praises of the work we see God doing.

He revealed to me my selfishness and that I did not really love people enough. So He placed some awesome Christian examples in my life to reveal what real love looks like.

He sent me friends who were willing to completely change their plans to center around my needs and how they could help ease my pain. This was not just for one day but every day until they saw I was able to keep my head above water. These friends offered not only their time but offered themselves totally to me.
He gave me loving people who provided more than just a place for me to stay as I listened to God, but also showed genuine love through listening ears, hugs, companionship and food. While invading their daily routine, I was able to observe precious genuine love as I watched this couple’s example of how God designed a husband and wife to serve and respect one another.

As I continued to sit at His feet, He began to change my attitude toward my trial. He was showing Himself to me each day in new ways and His consolation was beginning to bring joy to my soul. (Psalm 94:18-19) I began to find joy in my sufferning. James 1:2-4 Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

God taught me that life with Him is not immune from difficulties, but peace in difficulties. Joy can be the result of faithfully trusting and accepting His will, when it seems not joyous. Phil 4:4 Rejoice in the Lord always, again I say rejoice. This verse taught me that I don’t have to rejoice in my circumstances, but to rejoice in the LORD!

As I persevered, God continued to bless me and bless me. His compassioned never failed. As I waited on Him, He continued to show His faithfulness every day. (Lamentations 3:22-25)

God revealed to me that my husband loves me!! (In spite of myself! Family joke). He has stood beside me and cared for me in ways he has never had to before. He has proven that he will be there for me wherever the Lord takes us together.

One of the toughest lessons God wanted me to learn was that He must come before everything else and that included family, even grandchildren. He helped me to realize that Hayden and Layne are already a part of a wonderful church family and have very loving Christian parents who will tell them about Christ and model His love for them. There are many young children in Kenya that may never hear of His love and hope if I don’t go and let God use me to tell them and let them see His love in me. This has given me such peace about being separated from my family.

I am now more excited about going to Kenya and serving my risen Savior than I have ever been. I now feel like I understand God’s motive in putting me through this purification process. I pray that I will yield more fruit for His Kingdom having gone through the fire. He not only reached down and delivered me from the bottom of the pit and place me on the solid rock of Jesus Christ, but He also put a new song in my mouth!! Give God the praise and the Glory!

I waited patiently for the LORD;

He turned to me and heard my cry.

He lifted me out of the slimy pit,

out of the mud and mire;

He set my feet on a rock

and gave me a firm place to stand.

He put a new song in my mouth,

a hymn of praise to our God.

Many will see and fear

and put their trust in the LORD.
Psalm 40:1-3