Chapter 7: The Purpose Driven Life

My journey to Kenya has come to an end as I arrive at the airport in Nairobi. The Kenyan entourage that met me at the airport eight days earlier was with me as I got ready to depart, and it was tears all around. So often I would hear from friends when they travel that they had a great time but were ready to leave. My emotions were entirely different, and I struggled with the “Why?” I knew that I had to get back to my reality because I had a tournament in Huntington Beach CA in a mere five days, but I wasn’t ready to leave. I didn’t want to leave all the people I met along this journey that became my Kenyan family. This was the most difficult goodbye in my life.

My return flight to LA was 25 hours door to door so I had plenty of time to reflect on the “Why.” But deep down, I already knew the answer to that question. The Kenyan people welcomed me with open arms, big smiles, and generous and loving hearts. The poorest of people that, despite their poverty, gave me precious welcome gifts. People taught me to say good morning, thank you, God bless, and so many other phrases in Swahili and local Maasi dialects. It was the Kenyan people, peaceful and loving, just as Gaudencia and Brackcides had described them when I first arrived.

Every trip that I’ve been on, people always ask upon my return, “How was it?” This trip was no different, and my response, “It was the best trip of my entire life.” I’ve been incredibly fortunate to visit and compete in so many beautiful places around the world; the Swiss Alps in the beautiful city of Gstaad, Switzerland, in South Africa with its beautiful mountain backdrops, and on the magnificent beaches in Brazil and Australia, and of course, all throughout America. But this trip was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I wasn’t there to go on a safari as most visitors to Kenya do. This trip wasn’t about me, it was about something far greater than me. This trip was all about letting people know that they have not been forgotten and bringing hope and opportunity to children in some of the most distant villages in the world, to children who have been born in the worst poverty-ridden places I’ve ever seen.

When I boarded the plane in LA for Kenya, I prayed that this trip would go by slowly so I could soak in the culture. It did, and in the best way possible. I felt like I was over there for a month, like I was a true Kenyan citizen by the time I took my flight back. Throughout the trip I might’ve averaged about three to four hours of sleep a night, working almost 20-hour days, but I would do it all over again if I got the chance. When I laid my head on my pillow at night I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted to soak up every moment and document everything about it. And at the end it was hard to say goodbye. I made so many friends I’ll keep for life.

I would give everything to experience that week again. I would give everything to shake every child’s hand, to see their eyes go big and their smiles go wide when I gave them a loving smile and said hello,

to see them giggle and compete for high fives, to see their smile shoot to the sky after receiving a couple volleyballs, bibles and a net for their school to share. I would give everything to show them how to hold their platform as they bumped their first volleyball. It’s all the small moments that make up this amazing trip of a lifetime. The people I met, the sites I saw, the laughs we shared, the hope we brought.

As I reflect on the trip as a whole there are many takeaways and life lessons.

I’ve learned that you can have next to nothing in life. You can have no electricity, no clean water, no air conditioning, no ball to play with, no shoes and you can still find more joy than some people have in their whole lives. I keep asking myself “Why is that? How can that be? What is the key to joy? What is the recipe?” As I walked my way through the Mukuru slums, seeing some of the worst poverty I’ve ever seen, to playing with the Morijo-Loita school kids, to talking with the Olemegili and Oltarakwai tribes, there seemed to be two common denominators. God and Family.

The people I met in Oltarakwai, one of the most remote villages in Kenya lit up the room when I met them, there smiles were big, there hugs were tight, and I truly believe it’s because they love the Lord, and they love each other. They find joy in Him. They know that He has not forgotten them, He is right there with them, equipping them for what they need.

They might not have the luxuries we have but they don’t know that. Their faith in Him runs deep and their love for their Family and community members shows in how they conduct their lives.

Throughout my travels I saw that life is more simplistic, and that was appealing to me. In fact, it made me a little jealous. Their life is slow paced, and the surroundings were quiet, and it brought so much peace. It began to be clear that the less noise, the less distractions in their lives allowed them to focus on what was most important, God and each other.

As I come back home, taste my own reality, life is so much different. Life is far from simplistic, far from quiet, we are seeking joy and peace at every corner. I see things grabbing our attention from the moment we wake up (phones, Tk Tok, Instagram, Twitter, careers, events, parties, working out). It’s different for everyone, and of course I am guilty of it. It shows that it is a challenge every single day to keep our eyes on what’s most important, God, our Family, our Faith because those are what’s constant, never changing, never fleeting.

I learned that what might look like small gifts to us might just save a child’s life and restore their hope for another day. I learned that sport is more powerful than we think. Sport has given me everything. I have played it since I was three years old. It has taught me many life skills from when I was a peanut in spandex and knee pads, but I didn’t realize the magnitude of its power until going on this trip to Kenya.

Sports really is a universal language, one that can be spoken and heard in the most distant villages in the world. And….it can be understood in just minutes. In the Morijo- Loita school, all the little school kids gathered around this game they were not too familiar with. As the boys’ teams started to play on the new beach court, after each point it was silent, the kiddos didn’t know what to do, they just stared and waited for the next rally. But as the World Concern staff and we began cheering, teaching them the game, when to cheer, when to clap, the instant change in the atmosphere was electric. Fifteen points into the first set and these boys and girls were going nuts, they were cheering, laughing, chasing after the ball as fast as they could to give it back to the big kids to see the game continue! That pure joy lit up my world. It was a joy I have no words to explain.

At this moment, we weren’t introducing sport to hopefully strike gold and develop an Olympian in one of these villages. No, the goal and power of sport was on a different scale. It was to bring hope, to bring encouragement to those who love the game, it was to bring the school and community together on one brand new court. It was to let kids be kids again, open their minds, and allow them to dream. I truly believe “sport” is where dreams begin!

If I could sum it all up I would say this:

Let’s count our blessings. Their is so much we have to be grateful for. Less is more. God and Family are vital for a joyful life. Joy can be found in the most horrific circumstances if God and Family are alive and in your heart. Giving is better than receiving. And true fulfillment in life comes when you can find a purpose greater than yourself.