Grace Through the Storm

“But now I urge you to keep up your courage, because not one of you will be lost; only the ship will be destroyed.” – Acts 27:22

Very quickly after we moved, I grew accustomed to the stillness of life here. The days no longer start with the roar of engines or the shuffle of commutes. Instead, they begin with the soft chatter of birds nesting on our roof. Every morning, their songs welcome the rising sun, as if to remind us of the beauty of a new day. Our neighbors’ crops frame our little home—tall, green maize on one side, and rows of beans on the other. From our porch, I can see banana trees stretching all the way down to the school, their leaves dancing in the breeze. Coffee flowers scent the air, and with every breath, you feel as if life couldn’t be more perfect. As the sun inches higher, I make my way to my office, savouring the simplicity of it all.

But as much as the peace of village life grounds us, it’s not without its trials. We’re in the thick of the heaviest rains we’ve ever experienced. The winds tore our solar panels from the roof, toppled banana trees, and left us scrambling to patch countless leaks in the school roof. The rain flooded our septic tank and burst the water pipes in our home. In the chaos, it felt like every small step forward was met with ten steps back.

I found myself so focused on what was breaking that I forgot what God had already built. A few months ago, we didn’t even have a house. A few years ago, my office was under the mango tree. Back then, we didn’t own a car. Our first year here, we rode on the backs of trucks to get to school, clutching tightly as we bumped along dusty roads. The second year, we managed to buy a motorbike, which felt like such a blessing. But during the rainy season, that motorbike was something else. We’d slide through mud, soaked to the bone, and arrive at school cold, dirty, but grateful to have made it. Just three years ago, we didn’t even have a water borehole. Every morning before school, we would fetch water, carrying heavy jerrycans back to the compound. It was exhausting, but it was part of life.

Those years taught us resilience and trust. God didn’t give us everything at once, and I see now that was His grace. Slowly, step by step, He showed us the way, teaching us to rely on Him. Each trial shaped us, and every year He blessed us a little more.

This is where God works. Through the rains and the winds, He teaches us perseverance. Through the breaking, He rebuilds us into something stronger. This reminds me of the story of Paul in the storm at sea. In Acts 27, Paul is being transported as a prisoner to Rome. On the journey, their ship encounters a terrible storm. The waves rage for days, and the crew, losing hope, begins to panic. Yet, in the middle of the storm, Paul stands as a beacon of calm and faith. He tells the crew and passengers:

“But now I urge you to keep up your courage, because not one of you will be lost; only the ship will be destroyed.” – Acts 27:22

Paul had every reason to despair. He was a prisoner, at the mercy of others, and facing certain danger. Yet, he clung to God’s promise that they would all survive. His faith and confidence not only carried him but also gave hope to those around him. Eventually, the shipwrecked crew makes it to safety. The storm and wreck were not the end of Paul’s journey but a stepping stone in God’s larger plan for him. Like Paul, we all face storms—both literal and figurative. We’re tossed by waves of uncertainty, frustration, and fear. But the storm doesn’t mean God has abandoned us. It’s in the storm where He refines us, teaches us to trust Him, and prepares us for what lies ahead.

In the middle of digging a drainage channel last night in the pounding rain, soaked and laughing with my husband, I found grace. Like Paul, I realized the storm was not the end but part of God’s process to strengthen us.

The storm reminds me: grace is not just in the still, peaceful mornings. It’s in the chaos, too. And for that, I am grateful.

To everyone reading this: thank you for walking this journey with us. Your prayers and support mean the world to us and to the families we serve. Together, we’re building something extraordinary—one step, one storm, one blessing at a time.