Following the shooting at a church service in Sutherland Springs, Texas, in which 26 people were killed, The Salvation Army dispatched officers and staff from nearby San Antonio. The team was able to provide much-needed practical, emotional and spiritual support to the community, which was rocked by the sudden and violent loss of life.
I’m pregnant with hope right now. Which is weird. Because, well, things aren’t so good on a global scale. On the way to a conference recently, I had a frank conversation with my Uber driver. She’s not so hopeful. She talked about the horror of the shooting in Las Vegas and the hopelessness she felt about the American political system and the results of global warming on the world, and lamented the fact that she chose to bring children into this god-forsaken place. But all the time she was sharing, as I listened to her pain, what I felt was hope. Which is weird. Why am I feeling hope at a time that seems so perilous and hopeless? And that’s when it hit me.
In Embu, mere hours from Nairobi, Kenya’s capital city, an elderly woman and her son rake a maize field, where one stalk of corn remains in-husk following their harvest. On the same property, chickens roam free among the tiered fields where women collect tea into wicker baskets, and rows of coffee trees find shade under a canopy of banana leaves.