Every day. A rhythm of transformation.

In Kibera, artists work with found materials.

What others call waste becomes their palette.

Bottle tops.

Tyre rubber.

Plastic bags reshaped into jewellery.

Nothing is wasted.

Transformation begins with what has been rejected.

One piece stayed with me.

A portrait of a woman.

Life-sized.

Composed entirely of discarded mobile phone circuit boards.

Wires and chips arranged into a calm, dignified face.

She stood looking straight at the viewer.

As if she knew something.

She was made from what the world had thrown away.

More often than not, beauty is not created from what is new.

I stood there for a long time.

And I realised something.

Some things only become beautiful after they have been discarded.

Ashes to beauty. Mourning to gladness. Faint spirit to praise.

This is the language of divine recycling. God does not simply discard what has been broken. He takes the exact material of the break — the ashes, not different material — and fashions something from them.

The woman with the alabaster jar was not sent away to come back when she was better. She came as she was — broken, labelled, carrying exactly the weight of her history — and walked out carrying something else. The same woman. Transformed material.

You are not too far gone to be recycled. But the transformation requires giving God the actual material — the real ashes, not a presentable version of them.

What are you trying to hide from God because you think it's too broken to be useful?

Scripture: Isaiah 61:3