Mishaps

For You-You, because I know she'll laugh:

This morning, when I told Jason no, he figured that biting my heinie would help his cause. Marvin used the sink as a drum, and his tinker toys as drum-sticks, when we were supposed to be playing nicely on the floor. Veronica puked up all her breakfast - right where we were playing. Mathius fell underneath the tire swing while six other children were on it, and layed in the roots screaming underneath 12 little feet that didn't seem to care much if they were kicking his face! Sharon decided that "spit!" while brushing her teeth, actually translates into "swallow aggresively" and I think the sink was entirely clean and dry when we were done brushing. Brian wasn't huge on drinking his required amount of water before eating lunch, so he dumped it all over Steven and Fazira, put his cup back upright, and sat there staring blankly while everyone ran around to clean it up and Diana scolded him.
Poor Bobby was entirely emotional and stubborn all at once so things really didn't go well for him this morning.

Bobby has feelings the size of Uganda I think, but is always refusing to do what he is told. So, after staring at you blankly while you tell him to do something, he will sob when you tell him "Bobby, you are being very naughty!" I have a special place in my heart for Bobby though, because I relate. I feel like onery Bobby, created messes for myself and then being emotional about the distaster that I bring. I try to wrap him in my arms sometimes and tell him, "Bobby, really, there is nothing to cry over. You're alright, it's time to be happy, just take things lighter" like my mom does for me. Sometimes I just wish I could get through to him that if he didn't take every word spoken so to heart, he would feel so much better! But poor Bobby keeps being sensitive, and keeps being hurt, and getting in trouble. Today he had to be removed during lunch for being too emotional to eat his potatoes. Oh, Bobby!

This is my friend Jeremiah. I call him my mountain climber because he held onto my legs this morning and brought himself up to the third step outside on the veranda. Jeremiah was found in a latrine. He is 4. Jer is the drool monster here at Amani, and can't walk yet. But today he held on to my hands and giggled and teetered his way to the end of the brick pathway outside! I cheered and called him the mountain climber and he laughed and squealed and drooled more than usual. Think I'm in love...

Jer needs some special attention to his feet - they're curved inward, and he seems ready to walk, but they won't support him! I know that someone out there would be willing to donate splints or come and help him do what needs to be done, because they did it for Stephania in Haiti - I have been praying about who the Lord might bring to help my precious little mountain climber!

Fazira is my giggle girl, and my cheerleader. She laughs at everything I do. Everyone else can be crying, and Faz will probably be laughing at whatever happened to her last. Every game I pick, she enjoys. She squeals over the balls we play with. She colored my ugly looking flower this morning like it was a fine work of art. And she is a great sport when she falls over sideways on the fabulous red tricycle she's learning how to ride! She was a grump this afternoon, and threw a tantrum when she was supposed to be washing up for for lunch. But all in all, Faz is my happy girl, and I am thankful for her laugh. Today Faz learned how to pedal herself! Brian and Sharon weren't so big on the whole idea, but my happy girl kept trying until she began to get it! I think we'll try again when I get back from Kampala next week. She's close to being able to tear around on the lawn at will.

Today we went into town after work and ate at the Source Cafe for lunch and had a chicken wrap (not so good) and an iced latte (the absolute best I have ever tasted) and then went to the sandwich shop for an ice cream (not as good as Fior whatever it's called Angela and Carsen! - help me!). After that we walked around town looking at shops and taking pictures. We walked home in the sunshine, and by then it had cooled off a little. I am feeling like I want to stay in Africa for a much longer time than 3 weeks - but I know I'll get homesick sometime soon.

I am reading in Acts, and it is striking me how much things must be centered on Christ - am studying themes of Jesus and the Holy Spirit, and am impressed at how much the disciples focused on one thing: preaching Christ, and the Spirit. I want to stay aware of how much I must be doing things for Christ, and must do what He asks and go where He leads - not what I feel is significant or worthwhile, or impressive - but what He asks, and what gives Him glory. Amongst all the amazing people here starting their own non-profits, adopting children, feeding the sick, giving their lives to the needy - I feel humbled, selfish and like I am such a drop in the ocean compared to what I could be. But what does He call me to? And what are my actions worth if they are not for Christ? I am reminded that my actions are filthy rags - and my own non-profit, adoptive children or sacrifices do not make me holy, or give me value in the kingdom. It is what I do for Christ.

"...and Peter directed his gaze at hime, as did John, and said, "Look at us." And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them. But Peter said, "I have no silver and gold, but what I do have I give to you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareht, rise up and walk!" And he took him by the right hand and raised him up, and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong. And leaping up he stood and began to walk, and entered the temple with them, walking and leaping and praising God. And all the people saw him walking and praising God, and recognized him as the one who sat at the Beautiful Gate of the temple, asking for alms. And they were filled with wonder and amazement at what had happened to him" (Acts 3:4-10).

Am struck at how easy it is to feed a child, to feel good about giving a man medical care, or taking a starving child and giving them a home. But the disciples gave what was better - what they really had - the only thing we really have - they gave Christ, and life. We can feed these children, we can love and kiss and play and teach to walk - we can give all that we have besides Christ - but without Christ, they are still starving and dying. And I am convicted that I do not give enough Christ. I do not give enough real life. And I am praying to know how.

I took pictures for you today, walking around Jinja. You have seen many of the children. Now, here is where I live - Africa is by far the most beautiful place I have ever been.

My kids, grasshoppers and Bungee Jumping...

Today was my first day of work. This is Mama Katherine, and I work with her.

After taking a sleeping pill which made me dream about biscuits? all night, and going to sleep at about 11, Diana woke me up at 7. I am in charge of the toddlers that are too young to go to preschool, but old enough to need mucho entertainment!

Diana and I start out the morning sitting and singing songs with 20 toddlers who are supposed to be sitting still - and comforting Bobby, who has a crying problem. We sang wheels on the bus, Jesus loves me, and etc. I started letting toddlers pick songs. They'd come stand by me, and Katie (who was sad and needed to snuggle) and begin (very quietly) singing their song. After that it was breakfast time. Porridge and eggs! Then - oh then - was brushing teeth and washing hands time. We wash all 20 kids in 2 little kid sized sinks, and everyone has a toothbrush with their name on it. I don't know if you've ever tried to brush 20 kids teeth all at once - but it's quite the feat. Christina, I discovered, loves to play in the sink. She tells you she's washing everyone else's hands but - well - it's not necessarily true.

After that, the older toddlers went to preschool, and I handled the younger ones. I have about six children (I'm still learning who is mine). We played with Tinker Toys and read "The very quiet cricket" and chirped and rubbed together our cricket wings, and read about David and Goliath, and sang songs with instruments, and did puzzles, and colored Sesame Street coloring books. After that, it was snack time. When snack time is over we wash our hands (again) and then get our shoes (names written inside, I discovered) and go outside. Outside we played with the wagon - I gave rides around the yard, and without fail everyone cried when their ride was over. Then we played on swings and Sharon and I sat in the sun because it was her turn to need a cuddle. You can pray for Sharon - she has ringworm. Pray for me too - she likes to snuggle her head against you, and I'm not a fan of getting ring worm!

These are my kids:

Veronica came from the prison. She was allowed to stay with her mother until she was 2 1/2. She struggles with being touched, and then will want you to hold her for hours. They think it is because of being with her mother constantly.

Nathaniel is a personal favorite. Not sure where he came from - but I know that he's precious.

I want to bring George home. He's my boy. But his grandmother is coming to get him next month - so I won't be putting anyone through anymore hearthache.This is Hannah - who had on a beautiful yellow dress today that she got entirely muddy.

This is Fazira, who likes to laugh at me when I make the toy Giraffes kiss her cheeks. This is Jason. He is a naughty boy, and my biggest troublemaker. Shocking, I know.

Two volunteers left today, the Mamas made cards for them and did a traditional tribal dance for them - I caught it on tape, but I think it would take hours to load it on the internet here. The Mamas praid for their wombs to be open, for their future marriages, and for all the blessings from the dark continent - dark because of every kind of mineral, gold and precious jewel can be found here (even marriage! - and everyone laughed). George dozed on my lap while they danced and one of the Mams drummed on a yellow, plastic tub.
At lunch the Mamas showed me a plate of termites that are sitting in the sun with ants all over them. It rained hard last night, and the termites get stuck to the window sills and porches by their wet wings. The Mamas pull their wings off and fry them for eating "Good, good food!" The kids here apparantly pop grasshoppers like pop corn. I declined both. Thank you.

This weekend we are serving at the Passion tour in Kampala - you can pray for our time there! It will be Fri-Sat, and is free for college students in Kampala.

I want to tell you about our house cleaner. Her name is Mama Josephine, and she is from the Northern part of the country, where the conflict is. When it all started in the 90's, Mama Josephine had 25 people living in her house. She is a mother of 5. She fed and served them. She shrugged and asked us "How could I turn them away when their houses were burning?" Mama Josephine sings to Jesus while she cleans up our messes, and laughs at everything we do. Diana speculates that after all the sorrow in her life, the Lord has given her the gift of joy - the kind that can only come from him. She lives walking distance from Amani, and every time I see her I am convicted of my own lack of joy.

The girls and I are planning on going on a safari, Diana is diligently searching out our options, and we plan to haggle with Nathan, a man coming tomorrow, who will most likely be booking one for us.

After that, the plans for bungee jumping begin! Marlee, Heather and I are going to go - Marlee and I possibly tandem. I called and asked how safe it was - after emailing to ask how safe it was. The guys that do it here are from Australia (cheers!) and he actually laughed at me when I asked how many people had been injured and said "Are you the girl that just emailed?"
"Um...yeah. That would be me."
Anywho, I found this funny little quip that I suppose is supposed to calm my nerves:
"Best case scenario: You succeed in leaping off a tall place and have no injuries and impress your wuss friends who aren't inclined to risk their necks after watching that guy hurt himself on "America's Funniest Home Videos" or whatever. (The guy who discovered too late that the cord was [a] too long and [b] not strong enough to zap him back up due to his weight and [c] not attached properly to his body.)(He lived.)Worst case scenario: You jump and manage to suffer vision loss, nearly hang yourself, become paralysed, suffer stress and anxiety, then die as you fall off the cord. Your wuss friends are not impressed. Your tombstone says, "HECK! That doesn't look dangerous to ME." Your screams echo for a while, a doctor names your symptoms after himself and gets rich and famous, your parents are bummed, you cat runs away and is never seen again."
http://tafkac.org/death/bungee_jumping_injuries.html

And I suppose that the company we are jumping with posted this to comfort us?
"The Nile High Bungee cords are made of pure white latex rubber which is of the highest quality and used by the best underwear manufacturers in the world. When you really need support, be it for your underwear or while dangling over the Nile, this is the best material available. During each jump the cords stretches to approximately four times it’s resting length and gently slows the jumper down at the bottom of the trajectory." http://www.adrift.ug/services/bungee.php

I love sleeping for 16 hours straight...

So this is my bed. I went to sleep last night at 22:00 (or 10:00 pm, as we say in the states) and my roommate Marlee woke me up at 14:00 (2:00 pm) in the middle of dreaming. I walked out to everyone finishing eating lunch and talking about ketchup. I guess since I hadn't slept for about a week before coming, and then had only slept about 4 hours since Friday night, I caught up on my sleep. Here at Amani the rule is that you get to rest for your first two days, and then you start your shift. My shift is 7:30-1:00 pm. I work with the toddlers who don't go to preschool, and then I'm going to help my roommate Amy paint a mural for the potty downstairs - the under the sea potty, we're going to call it! We figure we can sing "Under the sea, I wish you'd go pee...under the sea!" Anyways, maybe I shouldn't share that sort of thing.


Last night, before going to bed, I heard what sounded like really heavy breathing/growling? Diana made fun of me until she heard it too - it was the birds outside in the trees. This is what they look like. Can anyone tell me what they are?













So I have FINALLY found someone who is comforted and blessed by the way I say "sorry" like a Canadian due to living with Mama Judah for a month - my roommate Diana from Canada tells me "good for you!" She says it makes her feel less alone. The two of us went to the market together. We went in on a Bicycle Boda-Boda - quite the adventure. Basically you pay 200 shillings to ride on a little seat behind a Ugandan for a couple miles. Bouncing along on the dirt road and looking around me at the Ugandan country side was absolutely lovely. After changing my dollars at the bank, we went to the market. I bought tomatoes, garlic, onions, cucumbers, a watermelon, mangoes and green beans for less than 5000 shillings, which comes about to about $2.50! The market is spread out beneath tents, and there are stands of all different kinds of fruits, veggies and - fish: lots of fish. You weave your way between people sitting on the ground, standing, sitting in their stands - women and children breaking beans open, setting out food, etc. I learned to count my shillings out and am beginning to get better with understanding the money here.


On the way home we climbed two on the back of a Boda-Boda motorcycle. The wind from driving cooled us off on the way home.


Back at Amani I played with the kids for a few hours. I'm falling in love all over again, with a new group this time. It's fun to hear their little Ugandan and British accents. An especial favorite is Steven, who gave me his noodle necklace this morning. I played on a blanket with babies, and then tugged about four toddlers around the yard in a wagon. They cried when it was over. Amani is really neat, because a lot of the children here have families, and the baby cottage keeps them here while their parents can't take care of them. Often fathers bring in their children because their mothers die and they can't take care of them. It is opening my heart to ministries that love the community, as well as the children. What an incredible opportunity, to give a child what their parents can't, and to love fathers and sick mothers, etc. in that way! It is helping my heart with how to think about Spendy - although it's hard to be here and not be with him.




This is Francis. We were buddies this afternoon. He stole my bracelet and cried when I took it back.






this is my roommate Marlee putting the Benjamin who we call "whiney" to sleep :). He likes to suck his thumb and hold onto your shirt. Marlee and I get along especially well. We make each other laugh almost constantly - not sure that's a good thing. I have three other roommates. Marlee is from Florida.







My Canadian, Diana.








This is Heather.














...and this is Jenny, my tour guide for my first day!
She taught me how to shower, what kids go where, where to put my food, and etc.







This is Steven. I'm head over heels.





Toddlers:

Lets hold our shirt up and show our belly for the photo Bobby!

London to Uganda.

This is the view from my room.

I am looking at the Nile - the longest flowing river in Africa. Sitting at my dining room table I can hear birds squawking, insects making the first noises of night, and I can see two huge - unidentifiable to us amatures that live here - birds, sitting in the balding tree in front of me. I am in East Africa, and I could not have conjured up the beauty of my surroundings if I had tried. Take the most beautiful river you have seen and imagine it better still - you haven't got the Nile yet. Add to your conjured up image the richness of ancient history that one feels living right on top of the Nile, and you have my heart tonight. Flying into Africa felt like shrinking. The vast expanse of it - the long stretches of cracked earth, mixed with the rolling hills and the Nile looking like the shiny trail of a snail gone random made my heart beat faster.

Before flying into Entebbe, I had a 12 hour lay-over at Heathrow. I took the Heathrow Express to terminal 2 from terminal 4, took a bus to Slough, and then caught another bus to Windsor. I took the audio tour and walked around like a nerd holding a British man's voice to my ear everywhere I walked. Afterward, I couldn't figure out which bus to take back to the airport. I made friends with two older women wearing snake skin high heels, pink lipstick and floppy hats - "We've just been down to the lovely pub for a lovely drink. Really, quite lovely, right on the river there." They insisted on walking me to the information shack up the street, telling me all the while about how they are not only sister in laws, but best friends. After receiving confusing information from the information desk and standing at the wrong bus stop for 20 minutes, I went back and asked for new directions, after which I caught a bus from across an old chapel - right down the street from the leaning house of Windsor. I'm sorry to say I didn't get a picture. There were two men posing for someone to take a picture of them leaning the opposite direction against the building, and it just didn't seem right to me to capture them forever with my beautiful canon.

Back at the airport, I spent an hour and a half trying to figure out how to call home - after taking a six dollar shower and getting booted out before I felt my time was through. I talked to Jason for about 30 seconds and then sobbed in a bathroom stall because I only had one pound on my phone, and spend $40 on a phone card, sim card and - none of it worked. Having only got two hours of sleep and had forgotten to eat in all the excitement of Heathrow, and hearing a familiar voice cut out - was just overwhelming. I don't think I could have been rational if I wanted to. The cleaning lady looked at me a little funny while I was washing my hands. I wanted to the floor to swallow me.

I struggled for a while, and decided to take Mark Driscoll's Radical Reformission advice and read the book of John, circling everywhere he used the word truth - about the time I reached John 6 I was repenting of my selfishness in being so entirely self centered that I couldn't even get excited about coming to serve orphans. Mrs. Witt had said something that rung so true with me last night - Jesus went to the woman at the well hungry and thirsty, but by the time the disciples returned he no longer needed to eat. His bread was the will of His father. He practiced others' physical needs before Himself - hungry, tired and thirsty, He ministered hugely to this woman. He completely changed her life. I read through the actions of Jesus, and they began to take on a whole new meaning as I thought of Him as someone tired and hungry like me heading out to do ministry. I hadn't thought so much before of His physical struggle - how human He actually was. But thinking about it created such a love for Him in me. I sat and repented at Costa Coffee between terminals 9 and 10. At my gate, the man beside me was a Christian heading out to do relief work in Sudan. Another woman in line is off to Kasikstan (sp?) to do research. I am humbled as I realize how little what I am doing is. The security guards tell me I am a brave girl - and a good girl - for doing what I am doing. I finally tell the man heading to Sudan that I don't feel brave at all. And in my heart I don't feel good either. I feel selfish and terrible. He is kind, and tells me that he is afraid every time he goes to Sudan. But, "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid" (John 14:27-28).

At the end of my journey, it is so good to be here. Debby just walked in with a new baby from Kampala. Why would one struggle with coming?

Thank You

"...then you shall tell them that the waters of the Jordan were cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord . When it passed over the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. So these stones shall be to the people of Israel a memorial forever." Joshua 4:7 It would not be right for me to leave for Uganda without thanking everyone at Three Angels for the life-change that my experience with them has wrought in me. I could not have planned this past year in my own heart, nor could I have picked more loving, passionate and devoted people to live pieces of it with. When I say that my involvement with angel house has changed my life, what I really mean is that it has changed my heart, because I have a love for the orphaned and oppressed that I never had before. What I mean is that it has changed my mind, I think about those suffering in other places, and I pray for them. My eyes are opened to their suffering. What I mean is that it has changed my direction. I have changed my major, transferred colleges, and set my face toward different life goals than I had before. I want to be involved in these kinds of ministries. I mean that it has changed my soul - my hunger for Christ, for an understanding of His love and sovereignty and His dealings with me has grown. My understanding of who He is and how He directs my life in tangeable ways has become different. My prayers to Him, and my praise of Him has changed. My time with you is a memorial forever for the things He has done, and will do, in my life. Thank you.

Samuel Duffy

...Lives with zest, aggression, passion and an overwhelming love for OJ, motorcycles, helmets - and slobbery kisses (giving, not receiving). Is an early morning person. Lies about Christmas presents. Is deadly with a super soaker...

...and reminds me of Calvin.

I'm Learning

Since what I consider to be the loss of a brother this February, my heart has grappled with the sovereignty of God. Mr. Witt told me I would - he told me that God would, most certainly, work for my good in this situation, but that that didn't give any assurance for Spendy. No false hand squeezes, or pats on the head. But reality - reality that my favorite boy could be homeless and orphaned on the streets - and God is STILL GOOD.

He will further my faith, our relationship and my love for Him. I panicked - "What if I fail? What if I don't get the lesson? What if I don't realize and I fight too hard against it?" Mr. Witt chuckled, reminded me of my own humanity, a good God, and the lack of a cosmic mess I'm set to wander in begging, like a rat in a maze, for the way out. "He won't waste His lessons on you. He's not a frustrated coach. He's not me."

Mr. Witt's words have come back since. Sometimes I wonder if he was right - what if this whole lesson has been wasted on me? I loved and loved and waited and now I'm losing. So where is the growth to come out of suffering? I feel like I've become a lump here, amongst my knowledge of trials producing faith and perseverance and hope. I've never doubted the goodness or involvement of God - or the reality that His ways are higher than mine - but I've spent listless afternoons doing homework, and trying to gather together my scattered hope, and my plans. I've spent those minutes between 6:00am and 6:08 sleeping my alarm, wishing I didn't have to face the day. I've spent nights crying at the island in the kitchen...

..mostly because I just miss him, and I set him up as a reality to live for.

Losing a baby Haitian boy isn't quite like breaking up, moving away from your friends. It's not right to "get over it" or "move on" or stop loving. No, I'm positive that losing my love for Spendilicious would be sin. I'm convinced that putting a halt on my prayers and my thoughts would be selfish - ignoring reminders of him would be self-centered. I've thought much about love enduring - and what it means to keep loving, even when it hurts.

I've learned about God's goodness being bigger than "It will be fine" or "Spendy will be yours" or "I'm sure we'll see him again." No, God's goodness doesn't promise me that kind of redemption. Rather, He promises that my prayers change things. He promises that He cares for the orphan. And, He promises that He won't quit me.

I've watched the goodness of God this past year. I never thought, watching my baby dance in his spiderman underwear in Port-au-Prince - because he finally got love - that my mother and my father and my brother would join holding and loving and feeding him. I never imagined the hundreds, really, of people that would end up praying.

But He did. He had all of that in mind.

This morning, He is reminding me of His goodness. He is reminding me that, contrary to what I may feel, and the fear that captures my heart, He grieves our loss. He captures my tears. He feels for me. He feels WITH me. Contrary to what my heart tells me, He's not wasting this lesson.

"At last, as we finished breakfast and motioned to the waitress for more coffee, I described my book on disappointment with God. 'Could you tell me about your own disappointment?' I asked. 'What have you learned that might help someone else going through a difficult time?' Douglas was silent for what seemed like a long time. He stroked his peppery gray beard and gazed off beyond my right shoulder. I fleetingly wondered if he was having a mental 'gap.' Finally he said, 'To tell you the truth, Philip, I don't feel any disappointment with God.'

I was startled. Douglas, searingly honest, had always rejected easy formulas like the 'Turn your scars into stars!' testimonials of religious telivision. I waited for him to explain.

'The reason is this. I learned, first through my wife's illness and then especially through the accident, not to confuse God with life. I'm no stoic. I am as upset about what happened to me as anyone could be. I feel free to curse the unfairness of life and to vent all my grief and anger. But I believe God feels the same way about that accident -grieved and angry. I don't blame Him for what happened.'

Douglass continued, 'I have learned to see beyond the physical reality of this world to the spiritual reality. We tend to think, "Life should be fair because God is fair."' But god is not life. And if I confuse God with the physical reality of life - by expecting constant good health, for example - then I set myself up for a crashing disappointment.'" -Philip Yancey Disappointment with God