I've thought long and hard how I wanted to blog about my experiences in Tanzania. It was an amazing trip and I'm so thankful to God for choosing me and the rest of the team to go and minister to the people of Moshi and be incredibly blessed in return. But one particular hour of the trip impacted me the most; the hour I spent with Abu. He was a three year old street orphan whose mother was a prostitute and had died, leaving him without a family. Because he didn't speak English, let alone Swahili, there was much I wish I could have said. So I've decided to say it here…
Hey buddy. We made it home safely to America. The trip home was long but quite the experience. I had a lot on my mind so I didn't get much sleep on the plane, plus we spent our six hour layover in Amsterdam being led around by a very nice local named Erik. You would have liked him, he was very informative. Anyway, we're home and I'm a walking zombie…remind me to explain what a zombie is sometime.After we said goodbye last Tuesday I haven't stopped thinking about you. I've told all my friends in America about you and showed them your picture. They all have the same reaction. You're going to be quite the heart breaker when you get older. Showing people your picture doesn't do the experience of holding you on my knee justice though. I'm so happy you chose me out of the huge group of us that were there playing with you and your friends that day. I was not in the mood to play football as my back was killing me. I volunteered to guard the bags from those older boys on your street. You didn't seem that into the game either as you just kind of watched the ball roll past you in a cloud of dust. I kind of thought you were going to get trampled out there, but you held your own.
The coolest thing about you was how into drawing you were. I didn't have to ask you twice if you wanted to color. I really didn't have anything else to entertain you. Unlike all the other kids, my camera didn't fascinate you. You can tell by the expression on your face! Ha! You're like, "Whatever, it's a camera, who cares?" No, you like to draw. I'll be honest I couldn't tell what you were drawing. I had to have John come over and ask you in Swahili. You told him chickens and I was like, "Duh! Of course!..." I kept your drawing. I'm sorry I wasn't able to explain to you better that the colored pencils couldn't erase. I was pretty shocked at your perfectionism being you're only three years old! I thought you did a great job using an assortment of colors. That's what I would have done too, had I been coloring. And I'm sorry I didn't have black paper. You wanted to use that white colored pencil and it just wouldn't work. Frustrating I know. Anyway, I'm proud of the work you did and I hope you get to keep coloring at home with whoever that lady is that takes care of you. 
Was it that lady that came up to us dressed in black in white? She seemed nice. She knew who you were at least. And all the other kids seemed considerate of you too. They all wanted to color with you but I wouldn't let them. I wanted to just focus on you. You see, I came to your country expecting to see a lot more of kids like you. Well I really didn't know what to expect but I was actually encouraged at the amount of orphanages and programs in Moshi for kids like you. I hope I can find a way to send you to a great school like Fountain of Hope. Then you could learn art from Mrs. Cass and some English too. It's a really good school and they teach you about Jesus there. Do you know who Jesus is? He's pretty awesome, not gonna lie! I wish I could have told you more about him as you were sitting on my knee. He was a creative guy too. His father created this world we live in and that huge beautiful mountain you live by. I'm sure you'll climb Mount Kilimanjaro someday. You go for it man…and you can write me and tell me all about it. That's something that I probably will never do. Don't know if you realized it or not but I'm not the most athletic of peoples; hence my inability to play football with you in the street that day.
Abu, there's so much I want to tell you. I want to tell you that the world is a huge place. It's more than all the darkness you see around you every day. I want to tell you about God and his love and how much he loves you. He's the only thing big enough to fill the void I'm sure you feel with your mother being dead and not knowing who your real father is. I hope someday you'll find God and remember the hour you spent on my knee and know that that is what God's love feels like, except he never leaves you. I didn't want to leave you there alone. I wanted to take you home with me. But taking you home with me wouldn't have solved anything either, I suppose. I don't know. It just didn't seem like the right thing to do at the time. Let's pray about it together okay? Maybe someday you'll come to see me in America. Or I'll come back and color with you again. 
I want you to know that there are people in this world who love you including me. I feel obligated to help you. I don't know how I can't. I've been given so much here in America, more than I could ever need. I have plenty of money to send you something. I know money won't solve all your problems and you may never even know it's coming from me but you deserve to have a good education and plenty of food to eat and to be around people who will love and care for you unconditionally. I can't help the hundreds of thousands of other kids like you around the world but I can help you. I know at the very least, I can help you. 
Here's some pictures from our trip. The safari was amazing and I'm sure you would have loved all the animals so close up. No lions or other big cats but plenty of elephants and giraffes. Have you seen Lion King? The Circle of Life song? It was kinda like that. Abu, you are an amazing little boy and in such a short amount of time you completely broke my heart for the life you live and other kids like you. I pray that God will allow me to help you in some way. I pray that Lauren will get to watch over you and keep me updated on how you are. I pray that God will find you in the darkness when you're afraid and comfort you. I pray that his love would fill the gap that was left by your father and mother. Thank you for teaching me about God's love and how creativity is an inherently universal and beautiful thing. I love you so much and I'm sending big hugs from afar.
Blessings,
Jeff
