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I did not get a chance to blog yesterday because of some spotty Internet connection. But I am not sure I would have been much good anyway, as I needed some time to process what will forever be a watershed moment in my life.

I met Amy today. Not Emmy, as the packet listed her. Amy. And let me tell you . . . this girl is something. I was worried the encounter might be awkward . . . I was worried she would be uncomfortable, or embarrassed. But nothing could have been farther from the truth.

The moment we were introduced, there was an instant connection. Amy has the brightest, most expressive brown eyes you will ever see, and a million-watt smile that lights up the room. Some of our other team members were amazed at just how beautiful and joy-filled this little girl is. Made all the more spectacular considering she lives in some of the worst slums in the world.

Along with other gifts, I gave her the framed pictures of my daughters holding a picture of her! You’ve never seen a child glow like she did. I think she grew two inches on the spot. I gave her a picture of my family and showed her my wife. She stroked her face with her tiny finger, smiling all the time.

One of the most privileged moments of my life occurred when Amy and I walked hand in hand through the Kibera slums. I can only imagine what we must have looked like, an odd couple to say the least. Along with Amy (from Student Life) and Ben (from Compassion), I was humbly and graciously welcomed into Amy’s home by her mother, Margaret. But it was I who would be humbled. We sat in the 8X8 living space, a single room where 7 people live, a room with no power or running water, a room whose walls were made out of mud, a room sitting two feet from the flow of a stream made entirely of human waste . . . but a room, a home, where I was welcomed as a family member. Margaret is a dignified, kind, noble woman whose slight, decorative touches in her home created beauty in the midst of ugliness.

This woman, this saint, who can praise God without irony or bitterness in the midst of suffocating poverty prayed for me . . . for me . . . and for my family. All the while, Amy’s held my hand tightly, never once taking her eyes off me, never once losing her amazing smile.

I will never forget it.

We stayed as long as we could, knowing if we stayed for days it would not be enough. When I walked away, Amy cried. She held my hand, hugged me, and buried her face in my shirt. I held it together, but barely . . .

Margaret accompanied me back out of the slums, talking the whole way about the difference Compassion has made in their life, and about how she deals with her situation. Margaret warmly embraced each person in our group, looking lovely in the colorful scarf my wife picked out for her. As I walked away, a large piece of my heart stayed back.

I have to return. I have to show my wife, and maybe my daughters. There is a family in Kibera slums who is a part of our family. How I miss them already . . .

Amy, her mother Margaret, and me outside of her home

As I said, more pics and vids and descriptions to come when we get home.