Life

What I've learned

2008-06-15T10:04:00.000-07:00

I don't really know what I will leave, here in Africa, aside from pieces of my heart. I don't know what I've accomplished, or if anyone is changed because I was here. Not sure if there will be children coming out different, or people wanting more of Christ - but I know that the people here have taught me things I never could have learned myself - and that I have loved being around them, learning from them, being loved by them - loving beside them.

She has showered with me in the dark, with cockroaches, at night, in freezing cold water, with only a flashlight - giggling the entire time - bungee jumped clinging to my terrified body, helped me when I was bleeding after biting my tongue during our terrified jump, went white water rafting with me, and screamed and high fived and yelled and carried on beside me after making it down a 5 meter waterfall, and through some of the best white water in the world, has listened when I cried, cried while I listened, and shared her heart with me in our room, in the middle of the night, while holding children, walking down the street, over coffee -over breakfast - during safari. She has taught me how to love better, laugh better - to be kinder, and to be more open to the needs of others. I wish I didn't have to be without her.

He has taught me that love at unexpected times - a kiss on the cheek while trying to get your bike up a big hill, a hug from behind, a squeeze on your tiny little heinie - a rub of your head, an "I love you" during breakfast, softens a person, and gives you passport into their life. It gives you an ability to comfort, to communicate, to reach out to and to be succesful in ministry. And, he has taught me that giving a person unexpected love, creates unexpected love inside of you. And I would bring him home if I could. He has my heart. She has taught me patience in communication. That sometimes tears and fits and carrying on don't mean that someone's naughty. Sometimes they mean "I don't know this word in English!" or "You aren't understanding that I need to pee and you won't take my pants off!" She's shown me the need to seek out understanding, and to listen, watch and pay attention to the needs of others - and to discern which kind of tears are what. And then, she began to teach me that being understood creates joy - and I saw her smile and heard her laugh often, and took part in her beginning to speak my language - as I sought to understand hers.
This woman told me yesterday that, "you came and became my daughter and now you're leaving!" and I feel something like that -her adopted daughter or some such thing. She's let me cry, laugh, be myself - ask for wisdom, show disappointment, be confused - and today she sat over lunch and told me everything I wanted to know about the Lord's working in her life. She's been a treasure to me, and I have learned from her.

He has taught me that the way to deal with someone who likes to bite and be naughty, and pull other children's pants down, and make you furious and need to excuse yourself to the bathroom just so you can scream a little, isn't always to punish or let yourself get angry. Instead, maybe it's to laugh, or to not take it so seriously - to understand where someone has come from, and to see through the biting and notice a little boy with a mother who has left him - a little boy really lonely and wanting your attention, and not knowing how to get it - but so very thankful when he finally does something that works.

She has taught me about gentleness, and being patient with the processses of other people. I rush through and barrel over. She picks up and loves on - waits for the slower child - sits to make sure that the one who is whining doesn't have a reason. She looks to the needs of others - and makes me realize that I've been blind.

There are some people that are easy to love - bosem friends, Anne of Green Gables calls them - the ones you love right at first - and you couldn't help it if you wanted to. These two have shown me what friendship looks like when it comes quick and easy - have shared my passions and my sorrows, my memories, and my dreams for the future - they've laughed at stories, and given stories in return - they've lived out passions with me, and we have enjoyed our similarities and differences. They've understood frustrations and emotions. They are looking for the same kinds of things that I am, and they've sought to interwine their lives with mine. Lord willing, we would like to spend 3 months somewhere together in the near future. He has knit our hearts. She taught me that it hurts to love. And that often when you love someone that's hard to love - you're the only one doing it. She loved our autistic boy here at Amani with all of her heart. She's fought for him, is fighting for him. She chooses to see him differently than anyone else. And as she's stood her ground - stood firm in her desires for him to be seen as having potential, and being a beautiful kid - we've come to see him that way. Instead of his screams, we talk about his beautiful eyebrows, his face, and his progress: thanks to her, we look for it. But she was the one who had the courage to see it first.
She taught me that those who are different than us can teach us MUCH. Her adventerous spirit, her love for people, for animals - for peace, for orphans, caught me off guard, and caused me to pause and begin to look forward to hearing her laughter, her smiles, and wait for her next move - she's unpredictable, and I still haven't figured her out. For that, I adore her.
He taught me that loving someone goes a very long way. Often, what someone needs isn't to be told to stop crying, or get a grip, to eat their lunch or stop whining. Often, someone is hurting so much that they can't function, and what they really need, is for another person to stop and love them for a while, to fill their heart so they can get up, smile and move forward. Auntie Diana gave him that love, and I watched him blossom. Even after she left, he was different.

Last day

2008-06-14T23:47:00.001-07:00

Tonight, after rafting, I stood in front of the mirror for a long time re-twisting my extensions into my hair. I was told it would come out with swimming, and he was right. I stared and twisted and flipped hair this way and that while waiting for my shower to heat up. I listened to my roommates laughing and talking and I smelled the white Nile on my body – the smell of elephants bathing, and African children bathing naked, old men fishing, crocodiles swimming where you’re not allowed to get out of the raft, reeds, bird poop, wild rapids, sun and rain showers with lightning sheets and fish that the Ugandan men catch in a net by pounding into the water with their dark bodies rising and falling with the weight of huge instruments meant to scare the fish.
Standing and twisting I thought about Mathias, and Marvin. I thought about the little village boy who asks if he can give me his brother, and the little boy that I saw on the edge of the Nile wearing an old ripped up sweatshirt while I was wet and shivering. He smiled this brilliant smile, touched my arm and said “You collld!” and I nodded, and pinched his arm affectionately – “you are warm.” He grinned and nodded and said “Yes, I am wam!” Then the little girls who stared while I told them their dresses were pretty – and let their brothers translate – old, ripped fabric with dark African patterns that must have been perfect at one point – but now in blends in with their skin and their knotted hair, their faces and their swollen bellies.

And, oh! Am I tired of swollen bellies.

As I knotted and twisted I thought “I could stay. I could stay for the summer and pray for a car in the fall. Or I could take a year off. I really could just stay.” And I let myself linger on that for a while, tying my hair up so it wouldn’t get wet in the shower. And then, warm water hitting my cold face and my cold arms, and my body that smelled of dead fish and elephant baths, I thought “my travel toothpaste is almost gone.” And then “my malaria pills…” and then “my money.” And “they have no room in the guest house, it’s booked for the summer. I have to go.”

I thought of Diana walking through the great big glass doors in her airport in Canada, and how she talks of that being the best part of coming home. And she’s right – looking and seeing the faces you love for the first time, those faces you need – and being in Diana’s home airport sends shivers down her spine, like SMF sends shivers down mine. But I fly into JFK, so it feels a little foreign still. I thought about sitting drinking coffee with my mother, and hugging my dad, and hearing my brothers make Chuck Norris jokes, and smelling my house – instead of African BO, and I thought of climbing up on a couch next to my boyfriend and feeling him hug my shoulder – and I realized that I miss home, and I want the first glimpses of it.

But Africa’s ruined me – and I’m not wanting to go home to stay. And if someone handed me the opportunity – I’d stay here. I’d stay and I’d learn from these women, and I’d live with my friends, and I’d love on these children, and I would push myself to learn what it is to be away from home for longer.

But that’s not what He’s asking now, is it? He asks that I get in Abdulla’s taxi in the morning, and I drive two hours to the airport, and I check into security, and I fly into Heathrow terminal 4 – and then JFK – sleep in the car – stumble to my bedroom.
That’s what He’s asking.

Last night, after our white water experience on the Nile – going down a 5 meter waterfall backwards, flipping on purpose, learning when to get down and when to hold on, and hearing that we were at the “mecca” of white water rafting, and every trip after this would disappoint us, because the Nile is deep and you can ride class 5 rapids without rocks – Marlee and I met a man from Passion. He was wearing a volunteer shirt, and I said, “hey, we volunteered at Passion too!” He stood up and we started talking. He told us what he’s doing here, and how he’s been up North where the LRA has been: the destruction he’s seen. He gave us ideas of where to go and how to minister – and I knew both our heads were swimming with ideas and regrets, and wishing we could stay. Then, he said something that put all my emotions under the hand of Christ, and told them “Stop. Submit.” He said, “but, hey, don’t fall under the heaviness of the weight of the tyranny of urgency.”

My jaw must have dropped. I stared at him and he continued - “you’re young. And when I was 19 or 20 I thought I had to get everything done that moment, and start doing everything exactly right for Christ, and go do missions exactly how He would call for the rest of my life – and then someone told me that I was young, and I could rest in Him. And to relax. See, Christ calls you for rest – because His burden is easy – He doesn’t call you to give you the kind of ministry or responsibility that makes you worry and fret and think about getting everything done today. Do you see?”

I thanked him, and told him the truth – that I had needed what he said because I was falling under that weight.

I’m already crying and it’s only 9 in the morning. Pray for my heart. I don’t know what’s He’s calling to – but it’s wrecking my insides, and making me willing for when He says “come” and when He says “stay.”

More pictures of my kids to come later today…

Slipping out

2008-06-13T03:04:00.000-07:00

Life during my last two days of work at Amani has been normal - expected. Not much different - and yet so different than what I would normally do - I have to remind myself I'm looking at Lake Victoria - I'm in Africa - this is different. This is exciting. But life isn't really like that - like Anne of Green Gables says - it's pearls on a string, not fireworks. But there's been a lot going on in my mind - fireworks, tears, wishing to go - wishing to stay. Today I had extra patience for everything except Jayson crawling way too close to the 3 inch big spider. I tried to take everything in - my kids faces - the feeling of their hands while making green ink prints on white paper. Siouxanne climbed into my top bunk last night, where I was crying about Spendy and Africa and feeling small and not very used, and wrapped her arms around me, and told me I reminded her of herself on her first visit to Africa. This amazing woman, sitting in my messy bed with me, just let my cry and sniffle and talk about how I want to do what feels good instead of what God calls me to - and how I am learning to submit to going on His terms, and doing what He asks - regardless of whether I feel good or valuable, or like I did something worthwhile. Then I blubbered about feeling like I've been in Africa brushing teeth and playing with blocks for 3 weeks and I don't think I've helped at all. My friend - my Proverbs 31 kind of friend - my brave friend who left her grandchildren and children at home to be here - my friend who makes me laugh and lives her life for Christ openly and with zeal - my friend who I wish I could live with and learn from for much longer - wrapped her arms around me and told me that just doing what is asked of me - submitting to leadership - my heart for service - has been a breath of fresh air, and I will never know how much it has done, or accomplished. Then I cried harder - the God of the universe takes the girl who struggles with submission to Africa and uses her submission to bless the people there.

Only in His economy would that happen. Only in His economy would that be a trip worth glowing about.

And I am.

New Perspectives

2008-06-12T21:43:00.000-07:00

I read an article in National Geographic or some such thing when I was about 12. A husband wrote of the bridge in New Zealand, and his trip towards being brave enough to bungee it with his beloved wife. 3-2-1-Bungee - lean out - fall out- open your eyes - shut them - scream - stop screaming - hang dangling like two bats together over the earth. He wrote of gaining a new perspective, opening his eyes there dangling bat-like, of the world, of life - a physical to match the mental and heart perspective that had been changing in him during his travels.

Being near the only bungee spot here in Africa, and having my perspective, as a person, entirely changed while being here, I decided it was time to change my perspective of Africa - physically - like in an upside-down kind of way.

So we went yesterday - and Marlee and I hung - bat like - out over the Nile. I forgot to think of new perspectives and New Zealand while holding onto the yellow bar, bringing my feet to the edge of the platform and asking the jump master weakly, "why in the world am i doing this?" to which he replied - "cause you're crazy. and you'll love it." I almost cried when they let go of the jump cords and I felt a tug on my feet, was told to let go and grab onto Marlee - tilt out - and scream. Well, they didn't tell me to scream. But they didn't need to. I opened my eyes on our second bounce up and saw the Nile - from somewhere on the 145 feet I had jumped - far beneath me - stretched out and flowing backwards from my upside down position - glistening in the sun - saw my friends on the deck - the cows - screamed again and shut my eyes - I opened and shut - laughed histerically - screamed - laughed againi - Marlee laughed almost the entire time and I could feel her gasping for air against my body as I laughed and screamed and yelled at her that I'd kill her if she let go.

I saw Africa from the perspective of few - and I walked on air the rest of the day - feeling adventurous, brave and satisfied - as I ate an entire pint of ice cream myself. Less brave as the children begged me for money outside the grocery store, and their rags fell off their shoulders as they squealed at the coins I gave them and threw their arms out - and then came back five minutes later - empty again. Africa truly has changed my entire perspective - and I'm waiting, in a little bit of a limbo - for the world to stop spinning, things to make sense again, the raft to pull me in, someone to hold out something solid for me to grab onto, saying: "you did it - now how do you feel?"

Safari

2008-06-11T08:42:00.000-07:00

On a more important note than my safari – pray for the people in Sudan that were on the plane that over estimated its landing on the runway – and killed 30, with at least 20 missing. 200 were on the flight.
And if I were not so close – I don’t know that I would have thought beyond covering my mouth and gasping when I heard.
But it’s still on my mind – an hour later.
It happened this morning.
You can look up the story online.

I spent most of my safari thinking of Robert Redford – which is my Mother’s fault for crying with me time and time again during Out of Africa. And when I had to go to the bathroom in a squatty potty – a little rectangular hole in the ground – surrounded by geckos and flies and this lovely African stench I was becoming quite accustomed to – I thought of Meryl Streep and Karen and “I had a farm in Africa” and felt a little out of sorts that I wasn’t watching the chimps dance to a grammaphone and eating something cooked for me around a campfire.
But who could be jealous of Karen when your chimp guide only has – count them – four teeth, and tells you your bookmark with a picture of a chimp is a special gift for supporting – in such a big way – the chimps? And when your game drive guide is named Innocent – and laughs like a crazy drunk man when telling stories of lions chasing girls on previous safaris?
And who could be jealous of Karen when you mention, in a sort – of descreet embarrassed sort of way to your driver – that you really must pee at some time in the near future, and he swerves, immediately, to the left side of the road – and tries to follow you to the right side to find a suitable bush? Thank you – but this Mzungu is an excellent bush finder all on her lonesome, sir.
I slept most of our 8 hour drive, and felt like a woman on a dangerous mission getting wet and muddy in the rain forest chasing chimps, and stopping suddenly so my near toothless guide could listen for where the chimps were – and then take off again with us trudging behind avoiding anything that looks like an anaconda or a green or black mamba – and fending off lines of big black ants. I took pictures of big trees – bigger than the trees in the red forest sometimes – for my dad who tells me that I need to find out about African trees for him. My favorite was the one whose inner skin is a bold red when the outside peels off.
I saw huge mushrooms that were scattered across the forest floor – and big white ones that have red in the middle that remind me of the tarts that Hannah Hempstead feeds me when I am really really lucky and I stop by when a batch has been made recently.
That night we crossed the Nile on a big ferry – and I felt something inside of me leap with all of the history and strength and richness of the Nile river, and what was beneath me. Across the river we watched chimps play in the trash – and hoped for one to pick up a Heineken so we could take a picture.
The next morning we went on our game drive – and rode on the top of our safari van snapping pictures of chimps and Giraffes, elephants and water buffalo and birds and huge African trees and – oh! The animals we saw! Half way through our day, we saw an elephant and lion fight, during which our guard cocked his big gun and yelled at us to get in the van, after which he laughed deliriously for about a half an hour – and we worried about his sanity even more than we had before. But he ran away to a spot where we could see the Congo – and took pictures jumping in front of it – Diana’s idea.
I got lots of elephant and lion pictures for You-You – a special request – and will send them soon!

Later that day, after fried fish and French fries, we walked – at the request of our new-found English friend, Paul, who was such a trooper going on a safari with six girls and listening to us be completely inappropriate about our stomach problems and our feelings about what the food was going to make us do – and then kindly pretending to believe my story that we had been “flower picking” early that morning when about five of us all needed to pee at once – we went to the really nice lodge about a half mile down the road and got passion juice and chocolate meringue cake and sat and talked at a huge table on the veranda overlooking the Nile river for about two hours while waiting for our river cruise to start.
At four we took a 3 hour cruise of the Nile and – nevermind whether the accommodations or the food or the drive or the toilets were hard – I felt like queen of the Nile watching the elephants take baths and the hippos yawning and the foam look like big chunks of ice floating by me. I wondered how Nefertiti must have felt, sitting high in her golden chair and watching her slaves row her long beautiful boat down the Nile for a leisurely cruise – and I might have even pretended I was her for a few moments – if you want me to be completely honest. I put my feet up on the side of the boat – and sat back in my sun glasses and dirty shorts and pretended I was an Egyptian queen – and why not? We shared the same river – for those three hours – the goddesses of the past and myself – here are crocodiles just as close – and flocks of white birds taking off – the sun setting golden on the water – the vines taking over the trees – and then Murchison falls – so powerful and wild we had to run into a couple rocks to stop – something our guide acted completely normal about.
This river feels like so much more than water – it feels like life and death, like the rising and fall of hopes of millions of people – crops for the year – the beginning and end of successful kingdoms – loss of hopes during droughts – the start of civilizations – and I felt so lucky sitting on it and absolutely basking. To think that what starts here in Uganda ends up in Egypt…

I love meeting new people in far away places. The next morning we visited the top of the falls before driving home. Paul, our geography student friend from England whose here to work on an open arms project, and I had been talking about how expensive it might be for me to go white water rafting and bungee jumping all at once. He had gone for free because he lived at the Adrift campsite for a while and knew the guys – he told me he thought he could give me a much more invigorating experience – even than he got – for just as cheap. Being the poor college student that I am, and only having so much money for fun – I agreed, and asked Marlee to take a picture "For my mom and my Grandma."

Later that day, we also met a very talkative guy from Scotland - who somehow got a ride home to Jinja with us? I quizzed him all about the Lochness monster, because he's from around that area. He told me it's all a scam - and he knows the national geographic guys who make new stories up every year. It's only because two of the earth's plates there shift and create an area of the lake deeper even than the Atlantic Ocean at times - all sorts of bubbles and etc. come up from this vast hole - and there you have your monster. I was disappointed.

AIDS

2008-06-06T08:48:00.000-07:00

The children of Uganda love to yell "Mzungu! Mzungu! How are you? Hello Mzungu!" and I say "I'm fine! How are you?" and they say "I'm fine! How are you?" and on we go for quite some time - until I am out of earshot.
Their mothers drag them along infront of us, but they turn around to yell - or they stop swinging on the rope swings that they love to make - four or five in line waiting for a turn - and yell "Mzung!"
I am overwhelmed by the consequence of AIDS in this country. I am overwhelmed by the devastation that it brings to the children that it's women bear - so many children - too many too feed - too many to clothe - too many to take care of, and not to dump off at the hospital, or the pit latrine, or an alley way.
Too many to all love at once. Too many to keep well all at once.
I am overwhelmed by the consequence of AIDS in one life - or three lives, in my case, working here. Three happy toddlers that cry and play and laugh and prattle to me like everyone else. They get in trouble - they come for comfort - they get dirty, and we bathe them. I brush their teeth. I wash their hands. I hold them. I love them. And I never knew which ones, until today, were HIV positive - and thus destined to a death sentence, or, should their live out their lives on medication that works quite well - although is very expensive - they will never have the freedom to pick and choose - this boy, or that girl to be with - this child to bear from my womb - this granddaughter that has my blood in her veins. To give love, for them, is to ruin another. To give life, for them, is to give death. And I wonder how they will take it when they know? When their minds wrap around what has been passed on to them - what will they do? How will it hit her at 10, when she has her first dreams of wedding gowns, or 15, when she has her first crush? Or him, when he finds out he's not like the others?
Or will they disregard it all and do what others do - and go ahead and pass death along...
How does this tangled mess unravel?
...and why must the consequences of the fathers visit so many generations beyond them?
My heart is heavy to think of the weight that they will bear - the weight on all their choices that does not exist for everyone else's - the level of knowledge about themselves that they must wake up every morning and grasp.
...and I have three, but there are millions. and i wish we thought about them more than we do - that we prayed for them more than we do - that we came to help them more than we do.

In many of the villages here, a man becomes more esteemed - creates a higher place for himself - if he rapes a virgin and gives her aids. Superstition is that perhaps the aids will leave him as he gives them to her.
So pray for the virgins of Africa. And pray for the children of Africa.
And pray for the children of Amani - the ones whose teeth I brush, whose hands I hold, who I cuddle and kiss and take for walks and whose benches I scoot in at the lunch table.
Their lives are forever changed by the sin of their fathers.

Beauty

2008-06-06T03:19:00.000-07:00

is the way that she picks up any child that is crying or hurt - but especially the two that might be her brothers.

is the way that George doesn't know that there was another little boy that hid his cheek in my chin, his eye on my lips, his forehead on my nose - just in case i might feel like kissing.

is the way that my time with George convinces me that I will love again like I loved for the first time - and there will be no lack of affection for the children in my future, because of the child I loved in my past.
is the lines in her face

is the way they stick out their bums while swinging - and learn to share in the middle of dirt and squeals, scrapes and shoves.
is the way that Bobby stops crying, but won't wipe the tears of his face - an auntie must.
is when Marvin finally looks at me, takes his fingers out of his mouth, and laughs or says my name.
is my roommate - and her gentleness with others
...her passion to make sure that she is giving as much of herself as she can.
is the way they climb on me for a picture - and the red footmarks left when they leave
is the way I can cradle George between my legs and my belly - and how he will stay there for hours - come what may.
is Weiss, and the way he calls me "Auntie Shanalee!"

is Francis - and the nickname Diana and I gave him - Donald - because he sounds just like Donald Duck!
is Sharon when she's playing - and not attached to someone's hip.
is the contrast of baby Katie's African skin against mine, and the way she loves to cuddle beneath my arm and suck her fingers.
...the way she wears her overalls
...the way she eats her eggs.

is the way she waits for porridge
is the way he turns when I call his name
is the way they laugh and scream and splash at water - and the way we can't control them in it.

is the sunlight on his hair at breakfast

is the kisses that I get from him on demand.
is the way she always disobeys in just this one way - because she loves to see over the wall!
is how much she laughs, despite what's happened to her.
is how she focuses on things - like food, like stories - like laughing or playing - or screaming this morning for over an hour.

Sometimes i feel like a princess here - getting kisses and having my name called as I walk by - cooking in our kitchen in Africa - looking out at my Lake Victoria view - hearing Nathaniel yell and being able to pick his voice out from all others - watching progress - hearing the birds at night that sound like they are growling - preparing for a safari on Sunday - drinking Ugandan coffee...

Gerald James

2008-06-05T02:49:00.000-07:00

So today is a very special day…a day where the Africans would bake sponge cake with lots of food coloring and make EXTRA potatoes and perhaps some termites – and buy so much pop, and set out little fried donuts - cookies and biscuits - tea! coffee! the works! I hear that in Honduras, it would be a day of egg breaking! Today is the day that my favorite boy was born.
Jason has been the most loyal, kind, patient and enduring friend a girl could ask for - and I am entirely grateful for having him in my life. He makes me laugh almost constantly. He’s been there through some of the hardest times I’ve had – and he loves me even though I broke our pastor’s wife’s spoon on his arm, shoved him through a window, stole his favorite sweatshirt, called him between 3 and 4 am every night for a week because I was afraid after watching the ring, took his chopsticks the first time we had Chinese food and broke his 4-wheeler because I took it in mud that was just a little too deep.
He’s lived through countless chick flicks, emotional weeks, trips overseas – and has fallen asleep many a time on our kitchen island because someone had to help me cram for biology and nutrition tests!
I really can’t explain how much he encourages me, and helps me understand what it means to care for others, to not think of yourself and to be patient with others in their processes – I am humbled by how much he gives of himself, and doesn’t expect back. I am humbled by his kindness, and the way he loves Christ without pride in his own ability or merit, but instead an honest commitment to what is true, and to making it the most important thing in his life – and mine when I am with him.

changing me

2008-06-04T05:59:00.000-07:00

I have heard countless mothers tell their picky children about the starving children in Africa. Now I've seen them - and lost my appetite.

Sorry.

Yesterday walking in Jinja a boy and a little girl shoved their hands at me "for food! for food!" and I looked at Diana like a deer in the headlights - what do I do? I didn't want to be mobbed for more money - but they were the only two children around, and I gave them 300 shillings - less than two dollars.

I felt so insignificant as my fingers touched their palms - such a stupid small offering - it would barely buy them a meal, and here I am still sick to my stomach from the food I ate this weekend, and complaining - but at least it's full.

I thought then, about all the people that donated to my trip to Africa - the family, the friends, the people from church, and I wanted to cry. I felt like the only significant thing I've done for anyone I did standing on that street - and it cost me less than two dollars. No, wait, someone donated that money. It cost me nothing.

I have been struck by the sufficiency of Amani - the washing of hands, brushing of teeth, the clean beds and the prayers before breakfast. I give love. I make sure there's toothpaste and soap - and sometimes the mammas don't - i bond with certain children - i give rides on swings. But I look around and my 7:30-1 o'clock shift isn't changing anything catastrophic. I didn't come to change the world, because it's not changing. It's just as twisted as it was - and that little boy and girl are probably hungry all over again tonight, unless someone else hands them a few hundred shillings.

So what I do unravels the next day.

And this is how I have been feeling, here in Africa - so humbled and insignificant.

I have four roomates, full of passion and love for PEOPLE. One is studying to be a teacher - another is passionately against violence, and for human rights. Still another wants to return to Africa with me if I come back. The fourth loves autistic and disabled children - and looks up homes and ideas for the children here while we laugh and talk over our rice and stirfry at dinner.

And so I become insignificant as I sit with these women, with their passion and their humor, their struggles concerning Christ and what He is to them - and their love for the hurting.

The women who run Amani humble me as well - one who lives here, and is moving three residences in one week - but laughs and sings and makes us feel welcome all the time. Another who feels called to be here away from her grandchildren and children. And who talks to me about His calling, and humbles my heart by her passion to love these children. At the end of the day, if I thought I was something unique and great - I stand corrected.

But then there's Louie Giglio showing me the universe, and the darling galaxy - and how the earth is a speck of dust in a sunbeam, but He sets His thoughts on me.

And Francis Chan reminds me that Jeremiah's telling the God who calls him - "Ah, Lord God! Behold, I do not know how to speak, for I am only a youth" was responded to with a "But you, dress yourself for work, arise, and say to them everything that I command you. Do not be dismayed by them, less I dismay you before them."

And then there's David - "He brought me out in a broad place; he rescued me, because he delighted in me." (2 Sam 22).

...And that makes me think of Paul.

While pondering Paul, I have been pondering Third Day's "Who I am" - "I need to be someone who's a lot like you. Easy to see that I sure need something new. Though I try to live life my way, I think it goes to prove that I need to be someone who's like you. And I know that you want to change me, want to rearrange the way I feel inside. Yes, I've heard that you take the broken hearts of lonely souls and you make all things right. But you know who I am? Have you seen the things I've done? Do you know who I am? Have you seen the things I've done? Never before, no there's never been a time that I would implore you to take what's yours and mine and use it in the way you will, in any way you find - never before did I realize but now I do...that you want to change me, want to rearrange the way I feel inside. And I've heard that you take the broken hearts of lonely souls and you make all things right."

Acts 9 - "But the Lord said to him, 'go, for he is a chosen instrument of mine to carry my name before the Gentiles and kings and the children of Israel. For I will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name."

I love that before Paul was saved, Christ had already picked out the work he had. Paul - chief of legalists, would be the champion for freedom in Christ. Paul - the cleanest - would go to the dirty. Paul, the most esteemed, would come out three days later preaching something that made him a criminal. Paul - you who were the hero of the synagogue - go back and preach what you persecuted. Go and face all of the people who won't understand - and be bold about it.

And, then I feel like Anaias: "Lord, I have heard from many about this man, how much evil he has done to your saints at Jerusalem. And here he has authority from the chief priests to bind all who call on your name." Oh - but Anaias - I want you to lay your hands on him. I have this plan you're part of - and your fear doesn't factor into it.

...or maybe it does. Maybe Anaias was chosen because he was fearful. Maybe Acts 9 is all about God's heart for about-faces in people's lives. Go to the guy you've been afraid of. Go to the people who won't understand you. But more than the people or the guy - go the place your heart needs to go in order to become courageous. I won't let you stay afraid like this - i have a plan to show my glory in you through your courage. And you - you with your obsession with legalism, go and minister to the gentiles - i plan to use your freedom.

And then there's me - with the fearful and selfish heart and the self-centered way of thinking that I've carried, and He puts a passion in my heart to love others.

He has plans for my love, and my heart - for my selflessness and my others - focused thinking, for my passion for His kingdom rather than my own needs.

And He thought them up before He ever called me to Himself.

So if you sent money with me to Africa - I'm sorry that I'm not changing the world. I'm not doing something that seems significant - volunteers come and they go, and my three week stay looks small next to the amount that most come and live for. I won't blow you out of the water with how your money was used, or the incredible impact I had. There is no Spendy for me here - no child I am begging to bring home, no hopes for changing someones world like that. And even now, I am humbled that I thought I would change his world in ways I could be proud of - rather than Christ changing His life in ways I might never get to see.

But I am being changed. I am learning courage. I am learning selflessness, and I am becoming certain that He has a plan for me, and I can rest in it. I am again, and then again, learning to kill the thoughts that circle only on myself - like C. S. Lewis "I cannot get an inch outside my proper skin" and the black fingers that touch me and pull my moles and freckles teach me to come out of it - they teach me to live beyond my own comfort.

And for that, I can never thank you enough for sending me here...because it has changed MY world.

What we've been doing...

2008-06-04T03:27:00.000-07:00

Anyone who believes...

2008-06-01T05:41:00.000-07:00

....that dance can't be an effective form of worship, hasn't spent a weekend worshipping with 20,000 Africans on a soccer field in Kampala, Uganda.

My roomates and I, along with the admin at Amani took the 2 hour trek to Kampala on Friday to don our bright yellow Passion World Tour 2008 volunteer tees and worship with thousands of college students at Makerere University, Kampala, as well as others who traveled from Sudan, Niger, the Congo and Tanzania. Choosing to volunteer at Passion was one of the best choices our leaders could have made - we spent the whole weekend getting to know the women over us through worshipping with them, crying with them, laughing with them, praying with them - they have truly become older women in my life, and I respect them deeply and wish I could spend a much longer time learning from them.

It was quite the weekend experience. Our (already late) driver was pulled over for speeding, paid off the cop, stopped twice for a banana and Uganda time and - I guess I am a Muzungu, so I don't quite understand.

But Passion ran on Ugandan time since they were our guests - instead of 10:00am we started at 11:00 am, instead of 3:00, we started at 4:00 - by the second night everyone had wisened up and gave a "tentative 7:00pm starting point - unless you and your friends aren't here - then well start at 7:30...or 8:00."

Marlee and I were put on admission duty - we let people in with wristbands, and told those that didn't have one to go to the white tent - until security got worried about us, and made us leave our post. We yelled "keep your wristbands for tomorrow! Have a great night! Thanks for coming!" to thousands of people surging out that night, and together our whole team worked at "being a presence" which normally meant sitting around in the grass laughing and trying to avoid Ugandan men who, turns out, like white women because they think we have lots of money, and will support them until they are old and wrinkly! No thank you, sir! This is on Mzungu that isn't interested. But poor Diana was overtaken time and time again - I finally sat on her lap and looked grumpy for a while to keep her safe. Part of being a presence, for me, meant taking an hour nap on three plastic chairs in the volunteer tent - I don't think I've ever been so comfortable in such an uncomfortable place.

Of all the people to see in Kampala, Uganda, in the midst of yelling about wristbands and trying to avoid the Ugandan men that seem to ALWAYS want to shake my hand goodnight and touch my arms, Pete Bargas yelled "HEY!" at me from about 20 feet away, and came running to give me a huge hug. Holly Gorsh and the rest of the Masters team followed soon after, and I think they could barely understand me I was so excited to see them all. They came to Amani on Saturday, so I wasn't here - but it was amazing to see them!

Late or not, we worshipped like I have never worshipped before. Dancing, yelling, singing, waving, holding hands, praying together - Louie Giglio and Francis Chan spoke about worship, about Christ's love for you as an individual, about sin, the universe - His calling of you to be someone that lives life as one person all the time - rather than two. Chan gave us Jeremiah 1, and Samuel 22 - He spoke of false humility, and God's creating your history, your family - your hopes, your dreams - your sorrows and joys, triumphs and failures - and those of the ones that have gone before you - for His purposes. Sitting on a soccer field in the largest city of the Pearl of Africa I knew he was right. I sat with my head in my hands, trying to ignore the huge bug bite I acquired on my bum during prayer, and thought about all that the Lord has done to brought me to where I am.

I thought of my mother - and her mother. I thought of the things my mom has taught me: her courage, her passion, the way she communicates - her love for writing. And my father - I have never been so thankful for my father. I realized, I think for the first time, how much my father has made me who I am. I thought of his love for traveling - and how back in college, before I was even a twinkle in his eye, he lived in Mexico and learned things that he has passed on to me since I was a little girl. Without my father I don't know that I would want to go overseas like I do. Thinking about my father, I thought about my grandfather - the Colonel. And I realized that if my dad hadn't grown up as an army brat, perhaps he wouldn't have learned to love to travel, and the world wouldn't have seemed to be waiting for him with baited breath when he was older - perhaps if my grandmother that I never met hadn't prayed, he never would have traveled, and he never would have begun to change in the ways that he did. Perhaps if she hadn't have died, he would have stayed longer in Mexico. Perhaps if he had stayed longer in Mexico, my father would have never met my mother - and their lives blended together would have never created in me this desire to GO! and to not only go but to communicate where I have gone. Mid-thought I began to worry about how He will ever carry out all his purposes in me - will I fall short? And, sitting with my head bowed listening to Francis Chan in the middle of Africa, I realized how incredibly silly that fear has been, ever since it first came into my heart. I can name God's specific working in the lives of two generations before me, and how they have crafted my arrival in Entebbe last friday - and yet I am afraid that God's plans for me won't be realized.

Rubbish.

Chan spoke of Moses' fear - his speech problem. And of God's response - "I made that mouth. Do you think I made it wrong? Are you judging what I have created!?" Oh, please, far be it from me. Far be it from me to believe that my own weakness is not designed by your perfect hand. Far be it from me to believe that my dehabilitating fears and my physical weakness cast me beyond the realm of those you choose to do amazing things for you.

Far be it from me to look inward and see something that you cannot use.

Far be it from me to claim that I am not right for the work you have given me the desire to do.

But Chan didn't end there. He interrupted my worried thoughts of how the next five years will - exactly - play out in my life, and how I can balance this boy I like to be around almost all of the time with this desire to go overseas for a year - with exactly what I needed to hear. "Stop thinking about what you need to do in the next years - or even in the next week. Stop thinking about tomorrow or later today. Just think about now - and right now you need to get on your feet in Kampala, Uganda, and you need to praise Him with Matt Redman." Oh, he's right!

This trip, for me, has been death to my fear. I have been learning that people like me can be used powerfully, but the fear inside of us has to go. Four day safari with an upset stomach, or sit at home with an upset stomach? Comfortable bathroom, or bush? Isn't it worth it to go and see the elephants? Exhaustion? A bit of de-worming? But isn't it better to have met 40 children whose teeth I must brush, whose hands I must wash, whose faces I must kiss and whose tears I must wipe? Isn't it better to stop fearing every step?

I looked back, a few nights ago when I couldn't sleep, on all the fears I've had in my life. Fears of monsters, fears of sickness, fears of death, fear that God wasn't big enough to save me - fear that I wouldn't be liked - fear that I wouldn't be smart enough for college - fear that I would be taken away by the Jinja forest bandits on the way to Amani - and I realized that they have, all of them, been a waste of time. 19 years, and much of them spent being afraid of things that have mostly never actually come to be. And the ones that have? They haven't been so bad.

So I am in Africa, and I am serving orphans. I am going on a 4 day safari without toilets. I am bungee jumping into the Nile - I am praying about where He would send me. And I am beginning to lose my fear that He won't finish what He's started.

So far, it's been completely unfounded.

We were told that if 1,000 students attend Passion Paris it will be the largest gathering of Christian students that anyone can ever remember - an offering was taken up - we all laughed - from African students, to fund the trip for Passion to minister to the students of Paris. Louie laughed at what he was asking - how upside down it was - and then told us all that the kingdom of God is upside down. This was the student's response:

And lest we forgot, in all the excitement, about the world outside the fences that were keeping us fed, secure and entertained, it gave us every opportunity to turn around, look behind us, and be reminded:

I have decided that Uganda is definately a possibility for future work - they have the most INCREDIBLE coffee that I have ever tasted. They've won me over - I'm hooked. I'll be back!

This toilet was one of my favorite sights in Kamala - and no, it's not because I really had to pee. It's because it is the coolest toilet I have ever seen! Check it out! Someone hand-made this thing with two colors of wood. Now that is some serious work put into something that serves the purpose that it does:

Mishaps

2008-05-29T06:37:00.000-07:00

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...

2008-05-28T04:21:00.000-07:00

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...

2008-05-27T08:49:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-05-26T08:53:00.000-07:00

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

2008-05-23T10:06:00.000-07:00

"...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

2008-05-22T19:40:00.000-07:00

...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

2008-05-03T08:55:00.000-07:00

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

Spring

2008-04-20T15:04:00.000-07:00

Spring in New York is nothing short of moody. She comes and goes: ruining picnics, tricking me into thinking that I can wear tank tops and turning cold just when I've decided to leave my sweater. Today she stayed sunny and warm until we reached our destination on the top of a hill - valley spread out beneath us - then she started storming while we were admiring the view. I think she found it rather humorous: the two of us hurrying home in our shorts, tank tops and flip flops. She had us fooled!

2008-04-19T08:25:00.000-07:00

Moralism has to eat away at real joy and humor–because the system of legalism forces you to take yourself (your image, your appearance, your reputation) very seriously. Pragmatism on the other hand will tend toward cynicism as life goes on because of the inevitable cynicism that grows. This cynicism grows from a lack of hope for the world. In the end, evil will triumph–there is no judgment or divine justice. But is we are saved by grace alone, then the very fact of our being Christians is a constant source of amazed delight. There is nothing matter-of-fact about our lives, no “of course” to our lives. It is a miracle we are Christians, and we have hope. So the gospel which creates bold humility should give us a far deeper sense of humor. We don’t have to take ourselves seriously, and we are full of hope for the world. -Tim Keller (the centrality of the gospel).