We were living in the western Kenyan village of Kabatronjo, about five hours drive from the urban center of Eldoret. Travel is quicker and more accessible now, but in those days, the steep drop down the Elgeo escarpment, the perilous trip over the deep, rushing waters of the Kario River, and the agonizing climb back up the other side of the Rift Valley took longer. Paved roads and safer curves mean it's easier to find materials these days. But in that year, my day needed to rebuild a house being destroyed from the ground up by termites.
A few days before, I was playing with my toy cars beside the living room wall. I pressed the wheels of my toy against the wall, and a hole instantly appeared behind the yellow paint. Calling my father, I went running to where he was typing out lessons for the young men studying in the school. He came in to see what was the matter, and then he called out, "Hazel, you'll have to come and see this!"
Termites had taken most of the wood, finding a better place, I suppose, deep in the ground to chew things over. Support that the two-by-fours and the planks attached to them were supposed to give to that wall had been eaten away by tiny creatures looking for nourishment. Soon, the fundi, the carpenter on the mission station, was beside my parents, poking his fingers into the wall here and there. He went to other rooms in the house, and then his verdict came as he sadly shook his head. "Mr. Phillips, you are going to have to rebuild the entire house."
And that is what happened. Our house was torn down, as you can see in the photographs. A team of four carpenters came from the nearby, larger town of Kabarnet, ten miles to the south. Those strong young men took down the walls, first having moved all the furniture out. The old house, built by Stuart Bryson, the remarkable Australian who translated the entire Bible into the Tugen language, had not thought about the considerable damage termites could bring about.
Within a few weeks, the new timbers were erected on treated wood, the new foundation, and that house was our home for another two years before we moved away. At that time, polio attacked the muscles in our bodies.
Sometimes I think about the invisible damage done to our lives. Yes, there is an unseen but very real eating-away at our foundations. Greed for money, prestige, and grasping for precious objects can eat away at our souls, even if it's not observable to others. Course language, pornography, casual relationships do the same thing, working quietly and insidiously.
I admire teachers and counselors who can help young men and women detect the rot that sets in. I found the damage to our walls when I poked around, not suspecting to find anything wrong. Let's pray for families, moms and dads, who work with teens and young adults, helping them build a foundation that will not rot and decay and bring the house down around their ears in later life.
It's Thanksgiving time in the USA and Canada. Let's give thanks for moms and dads who lay good, solid foundations for their families.
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