The past ten days have been a whirlwind; they’ve gone by in a blink of an eye, yet have felt like a lifetime.

The following week, I brewed and brought for Jennifer a cup of her own coffee, which she tried for the first time. 

“Tonight I'm sleeping like this to remind myself of how I slept in the streets, so I never forget.” 

"Above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it.'"

Two orphaned brothers, once separated, both former homeless street children, united at last: now living together under the same roof.

One “orphanage” I visited brings kids in from around their village when they expect visitors who they think have money, then when the visitor is gone, the kids are told to go home and the owner of the “orphanage” uses all money donated for personal use. 

This practice only forces young women and their new families deeper into the cycle of poverty with no ability to escape their horrific and dire situations.

For my birthday I embraced my inner child, the one who built “couch forts” with walls of cushions and a roof of assorted blankets, and built myself a fort.

Everyday, Omogaka goes with his plate of food and shares it with this neglected, hungry boy without ever wanting appreciation or to even be noticed.

Acting on feelings of frustration and desperation (and most definitely influenced by a few too many glasses of chang'aa- illegal Kenyan moonshine), he physically attacked our home, our kids, and anyone else living here. 

She was immediately given her Ekegusii (the language of the Kisii tribe) name: Kwamboka, meaning “crossing over” or “new beginnings.” 

These children travel by foot from various cities (mostly Kisii and surrounding areas) without food or water for hours. They do so because they know that Arrive's home may be their only chance of a life not lived not on the street; a life with hope for a brighter future.

When he reached nine years old, he was told “You have grown big now and we can’t continue to support you. Sorry, you need to leave.” Astarico was forced back to streets and for three years lived homeless.

He had to be pushing 75 years old, or maybe even 80. He was wearing a clean, sharp, bright yellow bucket hat....and n o t h i n g else. 

For the children, we built a retaining wall into the compound with five stairs and a drainage system, replacing a steep, muddy, rocky, sloped entrance.

A few days ago, mid-squat in the latrine, Federico’s iPhone 5 fell from his pocket and plunged 30 feet down the latrine’s hole into a pool of human feces.

As the wishing lights took flight, not only our children but also the entire village was amazed. We got call after call asking what was floating toward the stars from our home.

The tanks have increased our sustainability and efficiency, and now every time it rains, the 3,500 litre tank, which is attached to a tap, is refilled effortlessly.

Douglas completely shattered his femur, the physically hardest bone in the human body. The hospital does not have casts, so he must stay perfectly still for two months. Besides us, Douglas has had no visitors; not even one. 

I am also proud to say that today, June 26th 2014, marks the one-year anniversary from the day Arrive rescued the first 15 street boys from the streets and brought them home.