In Memory of Tata Chairman Philip Mohochi

I had heard much about Philip long before I ever had the opportunity to meet him. He had retired from a career working in a bank to return to his home community in Kuria West, Kenya in an effort to help address the systemic poverty he had witnessed there all of his life. He was a man deeply committed to his faith, his family, and to the service of others. And he was a linchpin in the world of Nuru.

In 2011, I was able to travel with a couple other Nuru team members, Kim Do, and Karina Sobieski to visit Kuria West, and see first-hand the impact of Nuru's work on the ground. During that time one of my greatest memories was a morning spent in Chairman Mohochi's home sharing stories and dreaming of what the future held for Kuria West, for Kenya, and for Nuru International's work around the globe.

Philip was an inspiring individual to be around. He loved others well, and provided strategic direction and cohesion for Nuru's work in Kenya over these last five years. He was the keeper of the vision for Nuru Kenya.

Today, I received word that Philip and his brother Robi were killed in a car accident on their way home from Migori, Kenya. As I have had time to reflect, my sadness has grown but so has my hopefulness. I'm sad for the loss of this inspiring and visionary leader for Nuru Kenya and Nuru International. When someone leaves this world, there is always sadness, but today my sadness is mixed with shock and anger because I feel like this was an occasion where someone was ripped out of this world into the next.

At the same time I'm hopeful. I'm hopeful because this world's loss is heaven's gain. Philip's faith was an inspiration to me during the handful of times we were able to talk about our shared hope and our mutual inspiration for service. And I know that this was true about Philip for many others as well. I'm hopeful because of the vision that Philip had for Kuria, for Kenya, and for the world is becoming a reality.

Philip's Question from Nuru International on Vimeo.

During the last time I talked to him in his home, I saw a photo of Jake, Janine, Nicole, Doug, and himself on his wall from the first weeks they were in Kuria West starting Nuru together. I asked him, "What is it like for you when you look at that photo and think about what has been accomplished in these last four years?"

Philip's eyes brightened, he smiled, and he looked me in the eyes and said, "It's like I'm living in a dream!" He went on to talk about how much had been accomplished and his vision for taking Nuru to even more communities across his country.

And now as I write this, I think about all of those who Philip touched through his life. I think about his friends, his family, and his community in Kuria West as they mourn the loss of their beloved friend, their father, their Chairman. I think about all of the people who have been supporting Nuru's efforts in Kenya and Ethiopia and how they were inspired by his story of servant leadership. I think about the way occasions like this leave us all without words and filled with unanswerable questions.

And then I think about the strong foundation he laid and his legacy. I think about the fact that because of Philip and his vision for his community, there are over 30,000 people in Kuria West who are lifting themselves out of extreme poverty. Because of Philip and his vision, that number will be steadily increasing in the years ahead in Kenya and in other countries. Because of Philip, a whole generation of leaders around the globe will continue to "be Nuru" and bring lasting change to our neighbors who are needlessly suffering.

May those who knew him continue fiercely moving forward in the work he bravely began, and may those who did not have the privilege of knowing him be inspired by his life and vision to join us in this fight!

Pleasant Grove Baptist Church

Last weekend I had an incredible privilege. Jamie and I were invited to a visit a small country church in Herring, West Virginia. Not only did we have the incredible privilege of visiting this space, but also, I was invited to share the message last Sunday. Last Sunday wasn't our first visit to the church, but it was really encouraging to see the growth of the congregation since our first visit. We were welcomed with open arms, and it was cool to listen to the people who make up this congregation share their lives with one another.

As I walked forward to share, I began thinking about the generations of people who had gathered here before. On the front of the church is a sign that celebrated 100 years of this church's presence in the community. The church building was erected in 1891. That's over 120 years of faith-filled families gathering in this space. I realized as I walked forward, that I had never shared in a church that old. I thought about how there just aren't many buildings at all in the United States that have been around that long. I thought about the level of care that I witnessed the people had for each other in this space. And then I thought about the tombstones outside the church that were a visible reminder of many of those who were part of this church in previous generations.

What an incredible legacy. In our culture today, so much emphasis is placed on what is new and trendy, and I have to say that it is incredibly refreshing to step into a space that has been filled with generations of stories and memories.

May we each take time to think about the stories we will leave behind in the places and spaces we inhabit. May we fill these spaces with life and love!

Five Years

Today marks five years since my mom left this world and journeyed to be with Jesus. The time has passed so quickly. It really feels weird to think about how much my life and the life of my family has changed since she went home to be with Jesus. I wish she could have been around to see it all, and that she was still here with us, but she has gone on to a far better place. She no longer suffers the challenges of high blood pressure, type two diabetes, congestive heart failure or metastatic invasive carcinoma breast cancer. And when I list out all of those challenges she faced daily, it makes it even more impressive she stayed with us for as long as she did. 

In 2007, I cut a significant amount of my hair in honor of my mom, and in 2008, I cut the remainder of my locks in honor of her, and to mourn her loss as per our Shawnee tradition. I’ve not grown it back since. My brothers, Chuck and Willie, both made sacrifices of their locks as well. Chuck even shaved his mustache—a permanent fixture on his face since the 80s. Even Willie’s son Christian shaved his head in honor of my mom. Willie also wrote this beautiful song to honor and remember her upon her passing. It still brings tears to my eyes as the memories come flooding back of her courageous last days on this earth.

I started my first garden the year my mom died. Over the years, I’ve learned a lot through my dabblings in local agriculture, but more than anything, I’ve been reminded of lessons she and Dad taught me about planting, growing, harvesting, and hard work. Of course like any kid, I didn’t enjoy the discipline at the time, but I can look back with immense gratitude now.

And within a month of mom saying goodbye, I began to have serious conversations about global poverty and international development withmy longtime friends Jake Harriman and John Hancox. These conversations along with extensive reading and research on the subject, and much prayer, fasting, and wrestling, led me to a significant career change as I joined my friends as they started Nuru International. I’m grateful that I have been able to deepen my service to others, and invite more people to confront the crisis of extreme poverty in our world. I really wish mom could have been here to see what we have been able to accomplish in the five years since she died, but I am incredibly grateful my dad has been here cheering us on in this work.

And a little over a year ago, I got married. I wish my mom could have spent more time with Jamie. She’s absolutely incredible, and I think they would have absolutely loved each other. They are two of the best examples I know when it comes to compassion and caring for people around them.

And then there’s my sister. She left a ten year job at a doctor’s office to start a new career this year. Not only that, but my sister has become quite the runner. It seems like every weekend she is getting a new trophy or award for her running exploits. Since the year my mom went to be with Jesus, Becky has led our family in participation with the Wood County Relay For Life. Mom was never able to attend—the first year, she was in ICU. Little did we know she would be leaving so soon. And Becky had her own bout with cancer in 2007 too. Just a month after mom’s parting, she had a malignant melanoma removed. She’s a survivor.

Dad was walking twelve miles a day, and riding his bike 20-30 miles 2-3 times per week after mom died. And then in 2009, he had a massive heart attack. It was utterly unexpected. Dad has always been healthier than most people half his age. Since that attack he doesn’t walk twelve miles a day anymore, but he is probably in better shape and eating better than ever before. As much as we kids miss mom, Dad lost his best friend of 43 years. Dad continues to be an example of generosity and compassion to others too. He supports Becky at virtually every race she runs, and he maintains his garden the way he has done for years and gives away significant portions of its bounty.

My brother, well he is still working in the same job, but his level of responsibility keeps increasing. He’s an extremely talented engineer. And he lives and loves sacrificially with his time. He’s up at 430AM virtually every day to drive himself and several coworkers to work and stays up late to make sure dogs are walked and chores are done. And further, his son has graduated high school and is a student at Notre Dame (not WVU, but still not a bad education).

And in the last five years, each one of us has grown in our faith as well as in our service to others. My dad just recently took the steps to join his church and was baptized the same day.

On Mom's last trip to the hospital, my sister, dad, and I spent the day with her, and I left the hospital to drive to Morgantown to receive my MA in English. I leaned down to hug her and told her, “I’ll try to make you proud tomorrow mom.” As I stood up, she looked at me with her eyes filled of compassion, as she breathed deeply from the oxygen tube running under her nose. She smiled and said, “Every day you make me proud.” Those words echo in my mind every time I think of her. She loved each one of us well, and she showed us by example, even during her last days, how to love the people who cross our paths in seemingly random ways.

I wish mom was still with us, but one day we will reunite with much rejoicing. And until that day, we will labor, and dedicate the remainder of our days to love God and love others well, and to work to serve our neighbors both locally and globally. I know that if she were here, she would continue to be so proud of each of us. I know she would be cheering us on alongside Dad, and she would be cheering Dad on as he maintains his health and faith so well.

Wherever and whoever you are, you have an opportunity today to make a choice. You and I have an opportunity each day to pour out a legacy of hope and compassion, to wisely steward the gifts we have been given, to love well, and to live well. And I pray we may live as an example worth imitating as we walk this earth, just like Mom.