Re-entry into our life in Africa tends to hold surprises. This one didn’t disappoint.

As usual with jet lag, I was slightly awakened in the middle of the night. It wasn’t the normal “Time to get up” that comes with jet lag, this was an awakening to pray. A face came to mind and I started in, asking questions of God to direct my prayer. As I began petitioning for this heart, tears began to flow in response to a barrage of emotion. Staying focused in the moment, I set into praying against the overwhelming waves of negativity and un-truth.

In the not-so-far distance, I could hear the Muslim call to prayer, a reminder of where I am again. We don’t hear much of that in America. As I continued in that sacred moment of petitioning my Lord on behalf of a struggling friend, a new sound filled the air. A hymn. Instrumental. Not from my house …  in the night … in a neighborhood in Nairobi. For those who know me, I’m more of a contemporary Christian music kind-of-girl, so I don’t know the name of the hymn, but I know I’ve heard it before. In all my times of intercession prayer, I have never felt the presence of God as much as in that moment. I soaked up the peace as silent tears trailed onto my pillow.

                                                 No request is too much for God.

The sun is coming up in Nairobi, time to start the day. A smile crosses my face. A new day is dawning, an end to the night when jet-lag met a visit to the Throne Room of God.

I really love my life.