A rock sounds like an easy climb. But 40m high takes a bit to get there. Especially for 2 city dwellers in flip flops not used to climbing! Confident I could do anything my 30 year old counterparts could do I set off, arms swinging as I started the ascent. Soon the little path ended and all that was ahead was rock and a few little branches from the bushes around me. Concerned for Roy’s knees, which are not good, and with the hope he would need to turn back I looked behind me. But no, there he was head down and forging ahead. I sighed. I was doomed to hike the distance. One foot before the other, my eyes clinging to the highest rock like a child to her mother I grasped and stretched on. We passed intercessory groups on ledges, praying for Kenya and her people. It gave me strength as their voices filled my senses. I felt arms pulling me, hands pushing me; I was scraped and bruised and laughing hysterically when I finally heard the sweetest of sounds. “We are there”. I straightened, determined to look like it was no big deal and a sight such as I’ve never seen captured me and rendered me silent.