Dear Friends,
Like so many other Monday mornings, our staff and guests were crowded onto the veranda of Kimbilio Hospice. The sound of the birds singing in the garden were echoing as David Tarus, Living Room’s Kenyan Director, was sharing from a passage in Romans 12. His words felt bold and compelling: “We often receive an offering within our churches, but what does it look like for us to become the offering?” To give of ourselves in ways that might feel costly. To allow space for discomfort in the hopes that it might relieve the suffering of another. To restrict our limitations on love.
All 26 beds at Kimbilio Hospice are full of guests who need our team’s loving care – physically, emotionally and spiritually. Each narrative is overwhelming and filled with great suffering, disappointment and loss. Each person gives us the opportunity to daily live out the love of God in the most tangible of ways, believing there is hope in this life and beyond.
One little two year old girl, Michelle, came into our doors severely malnourished. Her grandmother has done her best to provide her with care, but Michelle’s hollow frame tells a story of there simply not being enough for a long time. As I hold her in my arms, she now holds back; and I want to protect the life that remains within her. Our team is fighting for her to not only survive but perhaps thrive. Two weeks into her stay with us, she still seems breakable. But little by little, as we give of ourselves, light is returning into her eyes. I wish you could pick Michelle up and be able to glimpse what I see when I look into her eyes. Her survival, as well as all of the stories that fill this sacred space, is because of your love and generosity. And we are grateful.
With love and thanks,
Juli Boit
