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I will never be able to accurately describe the feeling of love I experienced when we stepped out of the airport and onto African soil.
The smell.
The sounds.
The breeze.
Almost ocean like but without the ocean.

We made it to the guest house and fell into an exhausted sleep.
{apparently back to back flights and 20 hours in Paris exploring will do that to a person.}

The birds outside my window woke me up at 5:30 this morning and as I sat in the dark and listened, I prayed.
Prayed for my own heart.
Prayed for my kids back home.
Prayed for our church family we missed dearly yesterday.
Prayed for my friends and family who are worried about us.
Prayed for the people who did their best to tear us down.
But most of all, I prayed for Nairobi. That the people here would know Jesus. Not because we stand on a street corner and preach for hours on end and not because we pass out bibles and tracts, but because we show them love.
His love.
The love that compelled us to fly across the world.

Today starts our first day in country and I’m praying that when our heads hit the pillow tonight, it’s because we are completely and utterly used up doing exactly what He wants us to do.