now go


March 16, 2013

Four years ago today I sent my first email to Michael Viser of Wells for Life.  It started like this… “I have an idea…” and ended with “thank you for taking the time to read this.  I feel this is an opportunity with great potential.”



“The idea” was to start a team of kids to raise money for one well in India.  The kids were young.  Second graders.  We participated in a yearly event called The Human Race, and the kids raised money, then walked the 5K.  The average distance walked by many Indians each day to collect clean (or dirty) water from whatever source they find.



The goal of one well was quickly surpassed the first day, and within three weeks we had funded ten hand pump bore wells, providing clean water to anywhere from 5,000 to 10,000 people.

That’s what God does.   He far exceeds our expectations, and abilities.  I always find it fascinating how often it

is ten fold!


So today, this 4th anniversary, I am grateful to my friend.   A brother, really.  Who takes the Great Commission seriously, and whether he knew it or not, by his encouraging response to a stranger’s “I have an idea” email, was taking the first steps in making a disciple out of a very confused Christian girl who loved Jesus but hadn’t fully encountered Him.

Now, four years later, another Christian girl has been to India, has seen the need, and her heart has broken for the orphan.  She is heading up a team of youngsters and adults.

DSC_0233Team iGo with The Human Race.  Sound familiar?  Feel free to check them out and support their efforts.

We never know, you guys.  We never know what God is doing in the small stuff, and who is coming up behind you. Thank you Mike, for paying attention.  My life has never been the same.

Love, Val

“Be careful little feet where you go.  It’s the little feet behind you that are sure to follow” – Casting Crowns

Valerie Kumra – March 2013

Second Fiddle


He must increase, but I must decrease. — John 3:30

May 12, 2013

There’s an old joke I’ve loved since childhood.  It goes like this:

What is the hardest instrument to play?  Second Fiddle.

I can still hear my mom laughing. “Get it, girls?  Get it?”

This “joke” has been on my mind so much lately.   For weeks I’ve been mulling this over.  How much truth it contains!  I got to thinking about service in general, and “quiet service” specifically.  It may sound silly, but this is not easily achieved today, and I have come to believe it must be consciously pursued.  But get this:

I set out a couple of weeks ago to serve someone quietly.  Well, let me clarify; I wasn’t heading out to serve, I was heading to the grocery store, but I saw her, she was in need, and I helped her.  I deliberately sought to do this quietly.

It didn’t stay quiet.   I had to laugh, when I got the call from the church secretary, “are you the Valerie who has twins, and who blah blah blah…”   Hysterical.   She’d written a letter, trying to find me so she might relay her gratitude.  Though we were in the car for a short while, and I remember her name,  I don’t actually remember telling her mine, but I do remember telling her where I went to church, as it was close to her house.  I remember because she lit up, saying her neighbors went there too, and how kind they always were to her.

Driving home I’d reflected on this.  The kindness she said she saw in me, the kindness she saw in her neighbors… is Jesus.  Did she put it together?  I believe she did.

quietserviceSo my question I was asking myself today, “if I couldn’t be seen, would I do what I do?  If my name weren’t on it, would I supply it?  When the accolades cease, is Jesus enough?  If nobody knew…?” has become more of a cry.  A resounding “YES”!  A deeply rooted longing for Jesus to be seen.  Not me.

There’s nothing good in me, but Him.

But He’s all I need.  He’s all any of us need.  He’s everything.

The fact that He invites us to play second (or even third or fourth) fiddle is nothing short of astonishing.

Background – Lecrae

So let me fall back, stop giving my suggestions
‘Cause when I follow my obsessions, I end up confessing
That I’m not that impressive, matter of fact
I’m who I are, a trail of stardust leading to the superstar




March 7, 2013

I awoke at 3:15 this morning.  Second day in a row.  This time, my thoughts were on a blind man I’d met in the leprosy unit of Sahayamatha Hospital in Trichy, India.  He is a sort of legend at the hospital.  He’s been there seventeen years.  Eighteen now, I suppose.

His story has made the rounds here in America too.  I have his photo amongst the rest of my family photos, and there was just something about him that stuck with me since meeting him in July, 2011.  April, 2012, we met again.  So it shouldn’t be a big surprise when I saw him a third time in November, there was something, well, familiar.

It was the feeling of seeing an old friend.  A paradox of excitement and ease, because you know one another.

KinshipI sat next to him, and spoke into his ear.  An interpreter relayed my stories of how he was famous around my house.  How excited I was to see him in person, because I see his photo every day, and pray for him.  He laughed, maybe wondering what a photo of him might look like.  Then I asked him…

“Do you recognize my voice?”

I wasn’t prepared for his answer.

“Yes, you are my mother.”


Now there may have been a twist during translation, but the fact remains.  We have been adopted, and we are family.

But when the set time had fully come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law,  to redeem those under the law, that we might receive adoption to sonship.  Because you are his sons, God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out,“Abba, Father.” – Galatians 4:4-6



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