kenya slums

This week’s Five Minute Friday prompt is on the word world. I wish I had this wonderful intro to give you this week before my post. The truth is, I’m in tears again. I think about the world and I am devastatingly choked up to no end. If you know me, I’m sure you’re well acquainted with my empathy meter and strong emotions. It doesn’t take much to get me to feel…and there are times when I’d love to say being empathetic is a blessing – yet others that make me feel just a little cursed.

But enough of that nonsense.

Because I’m going to use this heart for something more than just crying over areas where I don’t think I can make a difference. That’s nonsense, too. God calls us and equips us. And even though I don’t know what it all looks like yet, I know a stirring in my soul when I feel it. I am going to Kenya in August. And I’m going to take it all in. Every single bit.

I’m frightened and excited and completely undone over it all. Pray for me. Pray that He moves big…

But now. World.




This world seemed big to me for so many years. I’d shut myself off from everything around me because the distractions were enough to keep me busy. I had my own world to focus on and I didn’t need to be bothered with anything outside of Jefferson City, Missouri.

Yet it began to get smaller as I aged. As I realized there was so much hurt. Poverty. Oppression…

I didn’t know that word then. It was foreign to me.

I say it again. Oppression… It’s hard to even think it now without my eyes welling up.

But I continued to shut them. Shut them so tightly that I wouldn’t see a thing. Then. Staying in my own world where it seemed safe. Comfortable. Familiar.

But He kept shrinking it for me and I couldn’t keep them shut. I couldn’t deny myself the look at what He wanted me to see. I felt as though I could embrace it with my arms…without much effort at all. I would shed tears – tears that still continue to fall at various hours of the day. They just come with no warning.

I hear words like: Homeless. Prostitution. Sex-trafficking. Lack of water. Mud cakes. No medical aid. Orphan and widow…

It’s so small now that sometimes I feel like I can reach out and touch it. 8,300 miles just seems so close. My heart is there now.

In Kenya.

It has been for awhile. Halfway across this big-little world.

That one that continues to shrink.

How I wish and wonder and whisper into the darkness of the night when the house is asleep that I could see it and hear it and smell it – as awful as I know it all might be – yet priceless to a voice that needs to convey it to the rest of the world.

To those who still live where the world is big.

Like the one I used to imagine. Where places like Kenya and Uganda and Rwanda and Iraq and Libya were still so very far away.

I’m going there. Kenya. 10 weeks, Lord willing, and I can shrink my world even more. I can grasp the hands of those who I have cried for and prayed for…

…when I realized just how small this world really is.



Won’t you join me this week for Five Minute Friday over at Kate Motaung’s page?  We’d love to see you there!  Just familiarize yourself with this page first, no editing, and set your watch for five minutes.


Photo credit: