The [Almost] Impossible Task

One of the things that initially kept us from wholeheartedly pursuing adoption was the cost.  It is not uncommon to peruse an agency brochure and see a $ followed by five panic-inducing numeric symbols that look something like this: $20,000-$30,000.  This brochure promptly gets A) thrown into the nearest recycle bin, B) stowed in an out-of-sight-out-of-mind location (such as the unruly pile on the dresser, under a mattress, or in an overstuffed glove compartment) or C) spontaneously bursts into flames.

Months later, you stumble upon this brochure again.  This time, though–and who can say whether this Grinch-like growth is simply because the cost is now more familiar or is due to an increased faith in God’s provision–maybe . . . could it be . . . possible?

People have raised greater sums of money than this in walk-a-thons benefitting research for tragic diseases like thinning eyelashes or in honor of a rescue center that takes in stray turtles . . . probably.

And our God owns the much talked of “cattle on a thousand hills” (Psalm 50:10), right?  And “nothing is impossible with God,” (Luke 1:37), right?  Right?

The thing is, when God provides financially, rolls of quarters typically don’t rain down from the sky (thank goodness!).  Usually he chooses to provide through work opportunities and through his Church.  Since we began this journey, God has provided nearly all of the first two payments, as well as other miscellaneous costs, simply through hard (extra) work, such as babysitting for a friend’s daughter several days a week and running an Etsy shop, cutting back where we can, a grant, and a few generous early donations.  We are currently less than $1000 away from making our next fee payment in about a month and a half.

Clearly, though, this will be a long process with a lot of little battles along the way.  Once we get through the home study, we will be eligible for additional grants and we will be asking you to make tax deductible donations at that time.  Why would we ask you for that?  At first, we felt really weird about asking for donations, too.  Well, [and this really makes so much sense!] when you make a donation to our adoption, you are saying, “We love your family and want to allow you to bless an orphan by giving him a home–and watch him bless us all back.  We want to live out the gospel message for the world to see.  We not only stand behind you and support you in word, but also in deed.”

That’s beautiful.  Someone should design a Hallmark card that expresses that sentiment.  Thank you for your kind words and action!

In order to be as up front as possible about our needs over the next year or so, I’m going to post our approximate costs.  If you feel led to contribute to our adoption fund, whether it be $10 or $1000, please commit to do so at this time.  Right now, there are two ways to do this:

1. Shop at our Etsy store for fun, African-inspired items.  Share our shop with your friends and invite them to order, too!
2. If you don’t need or want any of the items in our shop, please consider giving a one-time or monthly donation.  We actually have a ministry-related tax deductible number, and if you’d like to give this way, message me and I’ll send you the address to do that.

So, take a deep breath, remember that God is faithful and that grants are available, and:

PHASE 1

Application Fee                                                                        $250

1^st Agency Fee                                                                        $2,916.66

Parent’s Passports                                                                        $240.00

Passport Pictures                                                                        $20.00

International Adoption Clinic Pre-Adoption Seminar            $150.00

NCFA Parent Training                                                            $195.00

Fingerprint Fee (for Home study)                                                $108.00

Birth Certificates (1 copy each)                                                $40.00

Marriage License (1 copy)                                                            $20.00

Background check                                                                        $40.00

Medical Reports (depending upon insurance)                        ~$50.00 in co-pays

2^nd Agency Fee                                                                        $2,916.66

PHASE 2

CIS Application Fee                                                                        $890.00

3^rd Agency Fee                                                                        $1,916.66 (with grant applied)

FedEx fees (dossier sent to Lifeline)                                    $45.00

FedEx fees (authentication shipping)                                    $300.00

Dossier Authentication                                                            $575.00

PHASE 3:  6-9 Months Later

Referral Fee for one child                                                            $9,200.00

Referral Fee for additional child                                                $5,000.00

PHASE 4:  In Country Expenses

Estimated around $9000

Once you regain consciousness, pray and ask God what he might have you to give.  Love and thanks!

Children of God

This is Abby.  She has access to health care, sleeps in a warm bed, and eats three meals a day (even if her diet does consist of an inordinate amount of Little Caesar’s Hot ‘N Ready pizza).  She officially begins kindergarten this fall and will probably choose to go to college someday.  She regularly hears her parents preach the gospel to her.  She is our beloved daughter.

This is Aster*.  She is an orphan in Ethiopia.  She is only one of 5 million orphans in that country alone. Though her caretakers do the best they can, food, education, health care, and sometimes even beds are severely limited.  And they are not her family.  When she ages out of the orphanage, she will likely be forced to live on the street. She may or may not ever hear what Jesus has done for her.

          Everyone of us was born into a hostile world of sin and suffering–our pain an inheritance from the first two people to ever set foot on this earth.  We were orphans, helpless, unable to crawl out of a pit of sin that simply became deeper with each passing day.  But there was one who took pity on our state.  And this, even while we were far from being as cute as Aster.

          He desired to have a relationship with us.  And not just any relationship.  Not simply that of an employer and an employee or a master and his slave.  Not simply a friend or a teacher.  Through faith in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, God has given us “the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!”, (Romans 8:15).

          Our God is the One who declares that he has “plans to give [us] hope and a future,” (Jeremiah 29:11).  He has also called out for his own glory a body of believers who are to demonstrate that hope. We are to emulate him by giving generously to those who are in need, loving the refugees among us, and providing families for the fatherless.  We are to do (through his power) on earth what he has already done for us spiritually.

          There should be no difference between Abby and Aster, but because we live in a world crippled by sin, there is.  And with only a slight change in timing and location, my daughter could be found facing the same circumstances.  But because our God is a God of redemption, and he is changing me to become more like him, I can open my home and my heart to an orphan and make her my daughter, too.

          “See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are,”  (1 John 3:1).  So we are.

(*I don’t know this little girl personally and have given her a name for the purpose of this post.  Top photo from Erika Chambers Photography.  Bottom photo from For His Name Photography.)

If you would like to help support our Ethiopian adoption, please consider purchasing a bracelet or another fun item from our Etsy shop.  Thanks!

Rockin’ This Family Tree

We made a commitment to pursue adoption.

This was followed by a year and a half of questions:  Could we really, truly love and accept a child that wasn’t born into our home?  How would our kids react, and later, interact with one another.  How on earth would we ever get the money to finance such an undertaking?

Which was punctuated by a greater understanding of my own adoption through Christ.  (As in the, “you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” Rom. 8:15-type of adoption).

Then, the other day, over two years later, while we’re in the midst of our adoption homestudy, it hit me:  We do know orphans.  Well, OK, not all of the facts and figures, per se, but we know names and faces.

• We know Said and his brother Ibrahim.  They lost both of their parents in Somalia when they were young.  Their hard-working aunt then took them in and has raised them, even as they arrived in America as refugees.  We’ve known them for six years and they’ve taken part in many of our family activities.  I love these boys like they are part of our family.  No, they are a part of our family.
• We know Changwa and her twin sister Hawa.  In the broadest definition, a child who has lost even one parent is considered an orphan.  Their father died six years ago, shortly after arriving in the US with the family, leaving their mother, who suffers from various health problems, to raise them.  They are the youngest of her 13 biological children.  We’re teaching Changwa to drive and sometimes I watch her, incredulously, and think, “Is this what it’s going to be like to have a teenage daughter?  God, help us!”  But she is so smart and determined.  She has the potential to do something incredible with her life.  And we’re watching.
• We know Adonisi, originally from Burundi, whose father is dead.  For the past several years, he’s worn a path on our street as he’s passed from his mom’s apartment on one side to the community center at the other end.  We’re a frequent stop on his journey, and he inevitably ends up sitting in our kitchen holding a cup of water and whatever cookie we happen to have in the cupboard at the moment (yeah, I have a “mom” stash).  He has an adorable smile and loves playing with our kids.  They love him, too.

None of these loved ones is adoptable, but if any of them ever needed a home, buddy, you’d better believe we’d be shoving another bunk bed up the stairs faster than they could pack a suitcase!  I wouldn’t even have to think about it!

God’s prepared our family for this and I never even noticed it until a few days ago!

There are orphaned children around the world right now who are much like Said, Ibrahim, Changwa, Hawa, and Adonisi, except that they have no one who is willing or able to offer them a place to sleep or a warm meal.  They will not have opportunities for college scholarships.  Perhaps no one will teach them how to drive or how to interview for a job or love them unconditionally when they do something completely ridiculous.  Indeed, many will die from curable diseases during childhood and the survivors will end up on the street once they are sent out of the orphanage.

But we have room.  We have access to beds, medication, education and food in the fridge.  We have love that comes from the One who has first loved us.  And now we’re simply waiting for God to rock our family tree.

Testing, Testing

In light of our decision to pursue adoption, we need to have some way in which we can easily communicate along our journey.  So, I’m revisiting this blog.  Yes, I am aware that my last post was nearly a year ago.  I’m also a little encouraged by the nine people who (according to my stats counter) apparently dropped by yesterday to read my latest posts.  They must not know me and that I pretty much fell off the blog wagon eleven months ago.  So, here’s a shout out to my nine faithful readers–I don’t know who you are, but I appreciate that you stop by on occasion!

Love in Monsoon Season

This is my second cake picture in a row. I must really like cake.

(An Anniversary Post)

“One day Jesus was teaching his disciples.  He said to them, everyone who hears my words and obeys them is like a wise man that builds his house on a rock.  When the rains fall, and the floods come, and the winds blow, it stands, because it was built on the firm foundation.  Everyone who hears my words and does not obey them is like a foolish man.  When the rains fall, and the floods come, and the winds blow, the house is destroyed, because it was not built on the firm foundation.”  (Matthew 7:24-27)

Eight years ago, my husband and I said “I do” to a lifetime of infinite joy with one another.  Oh, and there might have been something about sickness, death, and various other troubles in the pastor’s sermon, too.  That morning, however, as I stood before our church in my beautiful, beaded white dress and veil, only the cliché, pure, unadulterated bliss of our shared future was on my mind.

Fast forward to ‘Year Five,’ if you have the guts.  In our household, the phrase ‘Year Five’ refers to what is still remembered as our most difficult year of marriage (the term “Year from Hell” is an acceptable variant title).  It truly is by God’s grace alone that our marriage survived that year of work overload, ineffective and rare communication, reverse culture shock, frequent (and lengthy) visits from relatives, loneliness due to our lack of a biblically-based support system, a windstorm, followed four months later by an ice storm (during which our son was born), and a colicky infant who, for ten months would only go to sleep if he was tied onto me.  There were days when I honestly wondered whether we would ever make it through the storm.

‘Year Five’ literally lasted the entire year, roughly from one anniversary to the next.  Suddenly, though, it was as if the worst had passed, and then slowly and methodically we were able to clean up our lawn.  Isaiah’s acid reflux had healed and he was finally able to sleep through the night in his own bed.  My husband began teaching another grade level and returned to his original workload.  Our sentences became longer and less tense than, “Where’s the paci?  Somebody find a paci . . . now!”  We talked about all of the things we couldn’t even think to discuss over the past year.  We threw out the houseplant that had died during our icy week without electricity.

For all of this difficulty, though, nothing can compare to our seventh year of marriage.  This past year has been more joyful than anything  the young, naïve, bride standing before the church could have imagined.  I think that our joy has even been enhanced by our all-too-vivid memories of ‘Year Five.’  God did not simply bring us through those difficulties, but he eventually brought us closer together, using them for good in our marriage (Rom. 8:28).  It is also clear that it was entirely by his grace that we managed to come through “monsoon season,” since we were in no position to make any wise decisions on our own (the combined effect of sleep deprivation and an inconsolable infant seriously outweighs even the most basic ability to reason).  As we began picking up the pieces and got to know one another again, we found that we had grown together in our faith and in our love for one another.  We serve each other better than we did in the early days of our marriage.  We have found a community of believers with whom we can be more open about our struggles and successes.  We have conversations that are deeper and more fulfilling, and are absolutely never, ever, about locating pacifiers (Isaiah outgrew them last summer).  All of this is God’s grace.  A home that might very easily have been destroyed was preserved.

I am no longer naïve enough to believe that placing all of my trust in my husband’s strength or abilities or love is enough.  I have learned, though, that if we both place all of our trust in Jesus, and seek to serve one another in the strength he provides, he gives us grace more abundant than we could ever imagine.  It’s not always easy and I have no doubt that even greater difficulties still await us in future years, but we can make the decision now that we will not place our faith in the appearance of the sky or water around us, our circumstances.  Rather, we can hope in the one who is our foundation, Jesus Christ himself, for unlike us, his love will never fail.

On Turning Thirty . . .

I don’t feel thirty today, but then again, I don’t not feel thirty, either.  I feel a little like the blank look that would cross my face if someone told me that, today, I am the square root of purple.  Then I think about it for a minute, do some basic math and realize that indeed, I am thirty years old.  Yep, thirty.  Once I resign myself to this fact, almost immediately I am barraged with a list of my successes and failures over the course of my life thus far.  It seems that the failures far outweigh the successes.

But I also realize that my favorite memories from these first three decades of my life are, for the most part, intangible.  They are sighs, tastes, songs, all wrapped up in people I love.  They are images somewhat jumbled out of order, like the photographs that lie atop my desk in a disorganized pile.  They are stars in a country sky and a back porch engagement; little bare feet that approach a tranquil Sunday morning bedside, eager to cuddle in between us before the day truly begins; wet clay under fingernails; smudges of newspaper ink on much younger hands; heat, noise, and life on crowded Nairobi matatus; evenings spent in deep conversation at deliciously aromatic coffee shops with college friends, long before I even drank coffee; climbing trees and building nests out of clumps of dried grass clippings, returning inside only when the night air became too cool; chai and curried rice with friends and trying to hold a conversation in multiple languages; gazing down an aisle at my beloved, who might as well have been the only one in the room; living out biblical community with brothers and sisters who dared to bring soup when I thought we all might very well die from the latest stomach virus; hay bales resting out in the fields that line the road home; eating fresh crepes on the streets of Paris with my beloved; heartbeats signaling new lives, mysterious and wondrous and oddly familiar, too; moments of desperate prayer or deep understanding of God’s Word and knowing, knowing that it was for me.

That I remember these moments is evidence of God’s grace.  That they even occurred in the first place is God’s grace, as well.  My failures are many, but God’s grace is sufficient . . . and abundant.  Though I have deserved nothing, he has lavished his love upon me, giving me life without end through Jesus Christ, which is enough success to cancel out my ever-growing list of failures.  If it appears that I should not actually get to count that accomplishment as my own, since it was a gift of God, through Jesus’ death and resurrection, and not by my own ingenuity (Eph. 2:8), then my point is evident:  everything good has been by his grace!  Oh, to know more of God’s grace in the years and decades to come!

A Father’s Love

I remember my dad smelled like a mixture of Certs and greasy flannel, with a hint of cigarette smoke that lingered, but mostly tried to remain unnoticed.  I realize that this probably sounds revolting, but in my memory, it is simply the scent that continues to represent my father, and if I could smell it once more, I would probably try not to complain so much about the smoke.  Or perhaps, knowing what I know now, I would be even more vocal in my contempt for his smoking habit.

My dad was mistaken for a homeless person more than once in his life.  Someone once gave him a cash donation outside a grocery store.  On the contrary, he was actually a fairly successful, self-employed machinist whose job necessitated that he, well, dress like a homeless person.  Each night, when he headed off to work at a friend’s machine shop, he’d don a grungy flannel shirt that would return home even grungier the next morning, leaving a trail of sharp metal chips across the living room floor that my three younger siblings and I had to pull out of our bare feet on more than one occasion.

Lest it sound like I am complaining about my father, it needs to be stated that I was a daddy’s girl.  He worked a lot—too much, in fact—but, I longed to spend time with him.  I learned to love some of the things he loved and then we would share them—like Krystal’s hamburgers, the local oldie’s station, fishing, and talk radio.  Occasionally, I was allowed to go to work with him, late at night, where I learned to de-burr and sandblast metal machine parts and made photocopies of my hand.

I was barely a senior in high school when Dad was diagnosed with lung cancer.  I literally wanted to die the night my parent’s told me.  I couldn’t imagine life without him.  I couldn’t imagine what it would do to my family.  But I also couldn’t foresee what God would do in my life.  Like the mythical phoenix rising from the ashes, he was creating new life even through my dad’s sickness and subsequent death just nine months later.

I believe that it was only because of my desperation (and ultimately God’s sovereign plan, of course) that I began to cry out to God at all, and thankfully he had already placed in my life a good friend who had previously placed his faith in Jesus as his Savior.  He had found hope and life in him years before, even as I was running in the opposite direction.  He began to pray with me as I prayed that God would heal my father.  He led me to the Bible for answers and to his church, which eventually became my church.  He prayed with me one night after a youth conference, nearly 12 years ago, as I received Jesus for my own.  Much later, he made me his bride and together we set out on an adventure that continues to this very moment.

Last week, an old friend’s younger sister (who was only 26) entered eternity after losing a three-month battle with cancer (although it can be argued that she did not lose in that she also knew Christ during her life, and, in fact, knows him much more fully now).   At first, I found myself solely sympathizing with her family, but then I also began to relive some of my own pain in losing my dad.  It has been a difficult week of reflection as old wounds were reopened.  I can say, however, that I no longer expect that I will ever know why I had to lose my dad, especially at such a crucial time in my life.  And I don’t think that I will ever become comfortable with the pain of losing someone so close to me.  What I can see, perhaps more easily now than ever, is God’s incredible grace and love for me in what were the darkest days of my life.  I can say with Old Testament Joseph, that what Satan “meant [for] evil against me . . . God meant it for good,” (Gen. 50:20).  It was because of his goodness towards me that I had the strength to face my dad’s funeral and the difficult days that followed, as an infant follower of Jesus—embarrassingly immature in my faith, but beginning to recognize through tears the face of the Father who would never leave, who would always be with me.

And all these years later, I’m still learning to love the things he loves.

“See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!”  1 John 3:1

Fresh Tracks

I wonder if, when God called him away from his home country to establish a new one, Abraham’s legs felt as unsteady as a newborn camel trying to stand and walk in a forward motion without faltering.  I wonder whether fear or excitement was his predominate emotion as he set out on the adventure of his life.  Maybe it was a mixture of both.  ”So [Abraham] went, as the LORD had told him,” is what the Bible says (Gen. 12:4).  I guess that’s all we really need to know, in the end.  Abraham’s obedience is [much] later confirmed and commended in Hebrews 11:8-12.  It was his faithfulness to God’s call that mattered.  I want to be faithful like that.

It’s so easy for me to get distracted by all of the, well, distractions of life.  I want my longing for comfort, security, and habit to be overwhelmed by God’s leading–out of my pathetic plywood shanty and into God’s city.  So, it’s with this attitude, that I’ve faced some unusual situations over the course of this past year, in spiritual growth to be sure, but also in considering the growth of our family.

It was last January when we began seriously considering international adoption.  (Why international adoption?  We have several reasons that I’ll discuss later in another post.  In short, we have friends who have adopted beautiful children both domestically and internationally, and each individual family’s path has been the right fit for them.)  We had talked about adoption, in theory, earlier in our marriage, but some close friends pointed us in the direction of a reputable adoption agency (the one that they are using) and we also began to attend several adoption events later in the year.  Suddenly, we knew plenty of people who had adopted, and none of them (to my knowledge) have the bank account of Angelina Jolie or Madonna.  This shot our theory that international adoption is “just too expensive.”  Indeed, we have heard story after story (and we’ve done our research!), of God’s incredible financial provision to those He has called to the task of adoption.  Seeing Him provide so lavishly, greatly blesses not only the adoptive family, but their communities and churches, as well.  Those who give are able to watch their monetary gifts multiply as they’re combined with the gifts of others, and they get to know that they have contributed to bringing a child home, into a loving family.  A year ago, we imagined we would be saving our pocket change in a jar for the next fifteen years until we were finally ready for such an expenditure, but since beginning our research, we’ve learned that people are actually willing and eager to see God match orphans with families who are willing to open their homes.  And we’re willing to open our home!

All of this came to a head a few weeks ago, when we were faced with a decision.  We could travel to Ethiopia with another couple to study for the summer, if we were willing to raise the funds.  When we asked them to send us the total cost of the trip and we began plugging in our own numbers, we realized that the overall cost would be comparable to the cost of an adoption.  It hit us, quite suddenly, that for the price of a summer trip, we could bring home a child for the rest of his or her life!  We were reminded of our commitment last year to pursue adoption, and we recognized that God was showing us that His path for our family is different than it is for our friends who are still planning to travel to East Africa this summer.  (And, by the way, we believe that they are following God’s plan for their family by going to Ethiopia for the summer and we pray for them in their journey–different people, different plans.)

For some who read this, our intentions may seem crazy.  But please don’t misunderstand and think that this has not been well thought out and discussed often within our home.  Abraham’s journey seems strange until we take a Hebrews-eyeview of his life and realize that there was a bigger plan he couldn’t entirely see all along the way.  We’re determined to follow God as He leads us concerning adoption. We’re praying for the child that God may lead to us (by means of our adoption agency).  We’re praying for the family that will be making the hard decision to give up their child–all because we live in a world ruined by sin.   We’re praying that God will supply the financial means (through gifts and grants) in order to make adoption possible.  And we’re praying that we will “journey on,” (Gen. 12:9) as Abraham, eager to see how God will provide, how He will continue to strengthen our faith in Him, and waiting until we might finally gaze upon another sweet little star in our family’s sky.

We’re turning in our application, the first of many steps that will follow on this adoption journey.  ”Here we raise our ebenezer.”

Dry-Erase Flexibility

I tried something new last week.  I made a wonderfully organized list (it was color-coded) of five general tasks I wanted to accomplish before the end of the week.  They were mostly on-going tasks that had to be completed each day, like “time with God”, “clean areas visitors see” and “clean areas visitors don’t see,” and were ranked in order of importance.   I also included two very specific tasks that needed to be accomplished, one that fell into the category of our home and the other that came under the heading of ministry.  OK, so seven tasks:  five daily and two specific to the week, all in vibrant red, blue, and black dry-erase marker, posted on the front of the freezer door.  A work of art to be beheld by all (who would presumably keep me accountable).

When we left to go out of town Friday afternoon, leaving stacks of freshly dried, but unfolded clothes all across the sofa and love seat in a certain “area that visitors see” (I know I’m not the only one who does that), I glanced sadly at my list.  I had accomplished a whopping two tasks on a regular basis.  Seriously, two.  How could that be?  That’s almost as bad as accomplishing nothing at all, and it’s kind of a waste of dry-erase marker.  It’s true that I had only compiled and posted the list on Thursday, but I had also given myself a leg up by putting one task on the list that had already been completed!

I had largely forgotten about the list by Tuesday night (there’s nothing like a romantic work-related road trip to Paducah to make a girl forget her problems).  A friend invited me to a program on campus in which a panel of ministry couples answered questions from the audience.  Afterward, I talked with one of the wives (the one who held a six-week old in her arms throughout the evening and had four other children who were apparently being well-behaved elsewhere), and asked her some in-depth questions about how she manages to balance her role as wife, mother, and still find time to serve in her ministry context.  She asked me if I was “task-driven” and by the face I made she figured out that I am typically one of those type-A, task-driven people who drives my husband crazy.  She then proceeded to remind me that Jesus’ ministry was more people-driven than task-driven (in that he cared about people over most tasks, allowed himself to be frequently interrupted, etc.), and that I needed to leave room to not accomplish everything on my list.  Not what a perfectionist wants to hear.

So here I am.  Making lists that I know will be left incomplete.  Creating an outline of a plan, but knowing that I should have no intention of actually following it to the letter.  It’s unlikely that my seven-point list will ever have each line crossed off and that I’ll get to feel the pleasure of doing so.  I’m going to have to be OK with that.  I know that I need some type of structure to my week, but that I must be more flexible when God works and redirects my focus.

I’m nowhere near having that mindset yet, but at least I’m seeing the wisdom in using dry-erase markers.

Swahili Hymn and English Translation: Cha Kutumaini Sina / I Have No Hope

Another beautiful and theologically deep Swahili hymn.  I did not do the translation and verses two through four do not have English translation.  If someone can translate it for me, that would be great!

Cha Kutumaini Sina

I Have No Hope

Kwake Yesu nasimama

Through Jesus I shall stand

Ndiye mwamba, ni salama

For He is the solid Rock

Ndiye mwamba, ni salama

For He is the solid Rock

Ndiye mwamba, ni salama

For He is the solid Rock  (x2)

1.   Cha kutumaini sina

I have no hope

Ila damu yake Bwana

But the blood of the Lord

Sina wema wakutosha

I don’t have righteousness in me

Dhambi zangu kuziosha

To wash my sins away  (x2)

Repeat Chorus

2.   Njia yangu iwe ndefu

Yeye hunipa wokovu

Mawimbi yakinipiga

Nguvu zake ndiyo nanga (x2)

Repeat Chorus

3.   Damu yake na sadaka

Nategemea daima

Yote chini yakiisha

Mwokozi atanitosha (x2)

Repeat Chorus

4.   Nikiitwa hukumuni

Rohoni nina amani

Nikivikwa haki yake

Sina hofu mbele zake (x2)

Repeat Chorus