By Juli McGowan Boit | Published: September 26, 2013
| Timon Kutto |
|
Nimrod Kipchumba |
| 1963 – 2007 |
|
Born: 1997 |
In 1932, after the tragic death of his wife and baby during childbirth, Thomas Dorsey, in his loss and grief, penned these words:
Precious Lord, take my hand,
Lead me on, let me stand,
I am tired, I am weak, I am worn;
Through the storm, through the night,
Lead me on to the light:
Take my hand, precious Lord,
Lead me home.
When my way grows drear,
Precious Lord, linger near,
When my life is almost gone,
Hear my cry, hear my call,
Hold my hand lest I fall:
Take my hand, precious Lord,
Lead me home.
When the darkness appears
And the night draws near,
And the day is past and gone,
At the river I stand,
Guide my feet, hold my hand:
Take my hand precious Lord,
Lead me home.
In the fall of 2004, I met a man named Timon. By the time I met him, HIV had taken over his body and he was unable to speak. Ironically enough, he was able to sing, and his favorite song, translated into his native language of Kalenjin, was “Precious Lord, Take My Hand.” I will never forget, although it is impossible to describe, the look within Timon’s eyes as we sang together. It was as if his eyes told the story that he was no longer able to speak. They were tender and yet troubled, piercing but still inviting. In a culture that doesn’t allow men to cry, Timon’s eyes were always filled with tears. Timon was young, but his body was broken by disease and disappointment. He most often could be found sitting in a chair under the shade of a tree; the only words he really spoke, while holding up his one usable hand, were, “Mungu tu,” which means, “It’s only God.” In the midst of Timon’s pain and fear, Mungu tu. In his loneliness, Mungu tu. In Timon’s hopes and dreams for his son, Mungu tu. It’s only God. And for anyone who thinks this is wishful thinking, they should have looked into his eyes. In a way that still moves me to tears, Jesus was with him.
Besides singing, the other great love of Timon was his son, Kipchumba. In 2006, Kipchumba was nine years old, and one day, as I walked down a dirt path, I sensed God speaking these words to me: “Juli, if you want to love Timon, you have to love his son.” Unsure of what that meant, I met with members of our team, and we decided to help him go to a nearby Christian boarding school that would allow him to have a good education as well as a stable environment to learn and grow. After sharing this news with Timon, it seemed he felt the peace he needed to let go. Five days after Kipchumba started attending his new school, Timon left the brokenness of this world and entered a home where his pain and tears were no more. I imagine the choirs were singing to welcome him, as for the first time in years, he was able to walk and speak and dream again. He took the hand of the precious God who was his dearest friend and only hope, Mungu tu. Kipchumba, his son, is currently in his sophomore year of high school and is thriving.
Timon and Kipchumba are worth running for
Nimrod Kipchumba pictured reading Matthew 25 for the grand
opening of Living Room’s Kimbilio Hospice in January, 2011
This entry was posted in Blog. Bookmark the
permalink. Both comments and trackbacks are currently closed.
Category: Blog
Tags: No tags yet.
