Practicing walking


As I write this post, I am listening to the sound of heavy rain outside. I love that sound. I grew up in the south eastern United States. I love a good thunderstorm, especially when it’s time to go to bed. In Kenya, it is a little different. The sound still soothes my soul, that is until I think of the roads tomorrow.



I’m no expert on the Kenyan weather system. We live just north of the equator and the weather is quite nice year round. We do have a rainy season but we are not in it just now. I think that we are in something the locals call “the short rains”. That seems to mean a few dry days followed by some afternoon/evening/night rains. I don’t mind it. It keeps the dust down.



Now, let me make myself clear. I am no runner. I am no athlete. I have baby pounds still to loose and my baby is six years old. I do however like to go for a walk. It helps me to clear my head. I talk to God while I am out in his creation.



After a good rain in these parts, walking becomes more challenging. I can be faced with mud that sticks to me in places that haven’t touched mud. It splatters upward. These photos were taken THREE HOURS after I came home from my walk and had worked up the nerve to venture back out.

So as I walked my Type A self along a well measured 5K route the other morning, I was met, as I neared my return home, with a lovely sight. Henry. I have almost never seen the man without a smile upon his face.

Henry works as a gardener. He is my gardener. (Oh, have I failed to mention in previous posts that I have a gardener? Shame on me. But that is for another time.)

As I struggled up a 35 degree ish incline on my way home (as fate would have it, I live at the top of the hill…easy to leave when you are rested and ready to go…the devil to come back a half hour {or more} later) with (I kid you not) at least an inch of mud stuck to the bottom of my uber trendy American purchased walking shoes, I see Henry, with the ever present smile upon his face. Damn.

He hasn’t got uber trendy American purchased walking shoes on. Quite frankly I didn’t notice what was on his feet at the time. He is usually barefoot but I really, really, really, think that he had some sort of foot covering on his feet that morning. Any who, here he was, smiling at me. I, (yes, even sarcastic me) could not help but to smile back. Then he said it. The greeting. With a  wonderful smile upon his face. “Ah, you are practicing walking.” Damn.

It was the most acurate and profound description of what I am living that I could have imagined. I am practicing walking. You know how babies learn to walk? They just work up the nerve and do it? That’s me. Every day.


Mud or a cow paddy?


Mud or sheep pellets?

If you don’t know the difference between mud, cow paddies, sheep pellets, and various other brown colored mushy stuff, let me assure you that your sense of smell will be of great assistance. Just work up the nerve and get out there and see it and smell it.

I don’t blog more often because I am exhausted. I love living here but it takes a lot out of me. I am a thinker. Thinking takes a lot of energy. I have made the time to blog this because I truly appreciate your time.  Thank you for reading this. Nothing profound to report. I am going to bed now. (Well after I edit, proofread, check the thesaurus for alternate word choices, and look at the preview that WordPress offers.) (Did I mention my Type A self?)







2 thoughts on “Practicing walking

  1. Practicing walking. I will be pondering these thoughts . Thank you for sharing your life. It is a gift to hear your thoughts. Please hug your girls for me. I was so blessed to be their teacher. Praying for good rest for you. I

    In HIS Hands,

  2. Loved walking with you! Thanks for sharing your insights, photos and selfless humor. It’s always pleasure to read your blogs & understand a bit more about your life in Kenya. Love & prayers to all the family! Ginny

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