I am a Mom and a fighter.   A never back down, never stop, never let go, never take no for an answer, warrior for my children.   And now my children include the children at the Napuu School in slums of Nairobi, Kenya.

And in 12 days, I am climbing to help provide an education for these children in hopes of giving them a brighter future.  

Two years ago, resting on a dirty, dusty roadside in a remote village in Uganda, I watch this strikingly beautiful woman tenderly swaddle her baby.  She loving secures her to her back.  It was effortless, she doesn’t struggle, doesn’t look exhausted or frustrated.  I stand frozen in awe as if I was sharing in a private tender moment between the two of them.

She wears her baby like she is a part of her; her life blood, her beloved child.  Just as I would, she keeps her treasure close, tight and protected.  I smile at her, wishing in that single moment I WAS her.  In my mind, she has no worries…it was just her and her precious legacy.

I don’t know this woman and yet I do know her.  She is a warrior Mom.  Her heart’s greatest desire is for her children to have everything they need.  And if necessary, she will fight to protect and provide.

I remember holding my own babies tight and rocking them late into the night, just the two of us.  It didn’t matter if I was exhausted, or hungry and covered in baby goo, snuggling them was the best part of my day.  Actually, the best part of my life.

What if everything God wants for us is just outside our comfort zone?  Climbing Kilimanjaro is definitely outside of my comfort zone!

Most of my life, I’ve been a type A, rule following, over achiever, a planner and a perfectionist.  I did all the right things….whatever that is?  But I loved God and assumed because I did…everything would workout just perfectly for me…the way I planned.

But what happens when life doesn’t go as you planned?

On Kilimanjaro and in my life, I am learning I need to depend fully on HIM.  To Love, to Risk and to TRUST HIM.

I am stepping out of my comfort zone in Faith…just like Peter in the Bible.  He stepped out into the dark waters toward Jesus.  It was only when Peter was caught terrified at the waves coming for him did he begin to sink.

And so I fix my eyes on my God, my Jesus knowing that when I step out….He will be there to catch me.

Please join me in stepping out in faith to provide a school for these children.

We were not meant to live this life alone.  God made us for each other.

Much of my life, I was a pretender.  I pretended everything was always ok and I pretended I was tough enough to not be hurt.  I built a fortress of walls around my heart.

The fact was, I had been deeply hurt in the past, and so experience taught me to never let anyone get too close.  It was just too scary for me to be real, authentic or vulnerable…with anyone.

A few years ago my whole foundation was shaken and I was truly broken.  I had no choice, I needed God and HIS people or I wasn’t going to survive another day.

As I prepare to climb Kilimanjaro, I can’t help but be reminded of all of my friends who have gotten me this far…the friends God gave me.  I am so thankful!

God continues to blow my mind and challenge my heart, because there are so many people, and they have come from all kinds of places and backgrounds, ages and walks of life.

I have learned that a life without true authentic relationships is not one I want to live.  I still get scared, but at the end of the day, I am willing to take the risk to love.

I hope each of you knows how much I love you for your support of me.  I certainly would not have made it this far without all of you!

Surrender isn’t easy for me.

My climber friend, Reagan, was gracious enough to chat over a hot coffee about my Kilimanjaro climb.  He’s totally an expert climber.   After filling me with his thoughtful counsel, he ends with this definitive statement….

“Kristen, you cannot charge this Mountain.”

His wise words hung heavily in the air and have stuck with me since.  First, because he clearly knows me very well.  Secondly, because I need to remind myself of this fact.  Daily.  On this Mountain climb and in my life.

I like to charge things, to conquer, to win, to achieve, to work hard and persevere.  There are a few words I have lived my life hating…quit, surrender, fail…you get the idea.

A few weeks ago, Kevin, my encourager, and I climbed Mount Massive in Colorado as training for Kili.  Let’s just say this little adventure did not go as I expected.

It’s not like I thought this climb would be a walk in the park, but I also didn’t expect a total surrender on my way to the Top.  Mount Massive is a 14,421 foot mountain in the Holy Cross mountain range.  Our eight mile climb would span nine hours and more than 4,500 feet of altitude gain.

The countdown to December 26th has begun, the day I depart for Africa.   I am now racing the clock to complete my fundraising goal for the Children of the Napuu School in Kenya.

I don’t know why God has called me to Kilimanjaro, but I know He has.  God has called me by name, out into deep waters to find HIM.

You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. Jeremiah 29:13.

At the beginning of this journey, my prayer was that I would find HIM on top of the Mountain.  But today, after almost a year of training, planning and seeking, I ask myself,

Is it about the climb, or is it really about the journey to HIM on the way to this mountain?

In all my seeking, I have learned that no matter what, I know HIS plan is good!   It is good for me and it is good for the children I will get to meet in Kenya.

I think He calls us all all of by name…Will you join me in helping to give these children a brighter future? 100% of all funds donated will go to the children in Kenya!

In 40 days, I will be climbing Kilimanjaro, the tallest mountain in Africa, at over 19,000 feet.  No, this has never been on my “bucket list”! I am both terrified and excited.

I recently climbed Mount Massive in Colorado as training. I barely made it. This definitely did not go as I planned! Extreme altitude sickness almost prevented me from the Summit. Thankfully, God gave me an encourager that would not let me quit. One step at a time, we labored to the top of Mount Massive at 14,400 feet.

Will I even make it to the top of Kilimanjaro?

I will soon find out, as on December 26, thirty mission bound adventure seekers, none of whom I know, have accepted this Kilimanjaro challenge to raise money to build classrooms for Napuu School, in the slums of Nairobi, Kenya. The 2.5 million residents of the Mathare Valley truly lack the basic necessities of life.

I am determined to crawl, if necessary, to the Top and also to reach my fundraising goal for these children in Kenya!

Our fund raising efforts on Kilimanjaro will allow 240 more children to get the opportunity to go to school and have a brighter future. I am boldly asking for your financial support.  I know, there are so many worthy causes, so much hurting; so much asking. But, I am not asking for me. 100% of your donation will go to the Napuu School and is 100% tax deductible.

Will you help me get to the Top? I am at 58% of my goal.

I was thirteen years old when my heart was broken for the first time.  My best friend, Beth, wrote this poem in a note she intricately folded up like a small football and launched at me during study hall.

“It’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.”

My thirteen year old brain…thought no way.  That’s total crap!  This hurts so bad I prefer to have never loved.  And thus it began.

Maybe, it was the repeated heartache that lead me to the place I revisited for years.   Let my heart open up, endure pain and close it up tight.   Each time, vowing to myself that I would never do that again.  The painful vows we make as children are foundational and lasting.

It was just easier, safer to stay out in the margins of relationships where no one could hurt me.

Over and over again, suffering and pain reinforced the idea that people will hurt me and love…well, love is just not something I want to do.  People hurt one another even when they don’t mean to.  So I built walls…impregnable fortresses.

But how does one live this life without love and real, authentic, meaningful relationships?

Photography by Alysia Cadwell

The tornado siren is blaring yet again…  All three of my daughters hate storms.

Those apples don’t fall from this tree, because I really don’t like them either.  As a little girl, thunderstorms absolutely scared me to death.

Still as a stone, I lay in my canopy bed and pull tight my green gingham quilt, mom made me, up to my chin for protection.  I count between the thunder and lighting.

I knew the higher I could count, the further the storm was moving away.  Terrified and shaking, I recite as long as I can stand.  Eventually, I cry out in fear for Daddy to save me.

Not much has changed.  In the middle of the storm, when I am afraid, I still want my Dad.  

Last week, we had a deluge of high powered downpours in Indy.  It’s highly unusual to have severe storms in August but nevertheless we experienced many days of tornado terror.  Each day, more sirens, more warnings only increased the internal anxiety of yet another twister filled day.

My oldest daughters, Shelby and Rachel text me as they huddle underneath their desks, heads covered with their hands and squatted in tornado formation.  They both need to make sure they know where I am.

You ok mom?  

Yes, honey.  I am fine.  

Always followed with…I am afraid.

I know, it’s ok…this storm will pass.

I hate to wait!  Actually, I don’t wait, I just do.  Occasionally, I am forced to wait in a line but that is rare.  In an effort not to waste time,  I prepare well in advance.  I only visit Walmart late at night or Costco first thing in the morning.  And at Disney, I have made it my mission to strategically obtain as many fast passes as possible.  There is always a plan to prevent the waiting.  You could say I am “thin” in the patience department.

Almost a whole year, I am “waiting” to climb this mountain…wait to climb and wait as I try to compel others to donate.  I have never raised money before and it is an extraordinarily hard thing to do.  There are so many worthy causes, so much hurting, so much asking.  So, I ask and I wait.

So what am I supposed to be “doing” in my waiting.  It feels as if I am sitting and doing nothing.  My heart cries, there are children who need basic things, things my children have…food, clean water and an education.   Oh how I hate doing nothing…it feels as if I am standing still.

I am totally a Martha, but I want to be more like Mary…Martha busied herself with tasks while Mary quieted herself to see what could be gained.

What if there is something to be learned in ALL the “waiting” parts of life.  I get so busy with my agenda and my plan that at times, I am missing the really good stuff, relationships, people, love.

The name Hephzibah is written in small script on my back.   Hardly anyone knows it’s there.  I have no issues with tattoos or judgement about those who get them.  It just wasn’t something I had ever considered for myself.

My traditional conservative Midwest upbringing and banker profession certainly led me to this place.  Truly, I am much more comfortable (or maybe I just feel more in control) in high heels and a tailored dress or suit than just about anything else.  Subscribing to the whole, the clothes make the woman…and a first impression is everything.

In fact, it took me an extensive amount of time to be “ok” wearing jeans to church.  And even now, when I do, I feel compelled to dress them up them with a great pair of heals.

When my middle daughter, Rachel, saw my tattoo for the first time, by accident…she cried, “Mommy, what have you done to your beautiful body?”  I love her heart for mine.  I had my reasons but explaining God had given me a “new name” proved to be challenging for a twelve year old to fully grasp.  And I was still taking in all that it meant for me.