Grieving

One of the hardest parts of following this Love, is the refining process that He takes us through; the pain that comes with the shaping.  I am home now and enjoying so many things that come with that.  I have spent great time with the little man in my life making some cool memories. I have enjoyed the company of dear friends as we catch up.  I am using water from the tap and able to go where I want when I want in my own vehicle.  But at the same time I am enjoying these things, there is great pain.  My heart aches.  I equally and simultaneously want to be in two entirely different places at once.  My heart aches to spend another moment with those boys who touched my heart.  It aches to live in the simplicity.  To be immersed in need and so there is no other response but to act.  And then there are these girls who, in the most unlikely way, became some of the best friends I have ever known and what I wouldn’t give for just another moment with them.  I am grieving these losses.  Many disagree and say that it is too intense of a term, but I am telling you that is what it is.  I know because there are spontaneous outbursts of tears throughout the day at random moments that I can’t control.  And because of the fogginess of thought that causes for very slow responses to even basic questions or statements, or the inability to make any decision at all.   There is daydreaming that finds me disengaged from the people around me, making for awkward moments where I am not present with those I love.  I waft in and out of denial, anger, depression, and acceptance. 

 

I find myself having conversations with God like ‘please don’t make me do that again’ or ‘I just can’t handle anymore’.  And I don’t mean it.  Not really.  I just mean this hurts and I don’t know what to do with it.  And I love that He is so in love with me that He just listens and says “Its okay, get it all out, I can handle it.  I know your heart and I don’t just listen to your words.”  And it’s going to be okay, I am going to be okay.  Or at least that is what I keep telling myself, over and over again everyday.  And I think I am doing well until I see that picture, or hear that sound, and then I’ve lost it again.  Once again it looked NOTHING like I anticipated.  But I wouldn’t undo any of it.  There was purpose in this journey.  There is always purpose in the pain, because I serve a God who wastes nothing.  Who uses everything to weave His tapestry with my life.  He began singing this to my soul many months ago “Come away with me.  I have a plan for you, its gonna be wild, its gonna be great, its gonna be full of Me” (Jesus Culture) and it has been absolutely true.  I don’t want to go away with anyone else.  Even if I have to experience a little, or a lot, of grief, sometimes the healing makes it all worth it. 

 

Isaiah 25:1

O LORD, you are my God;

I will exalt you and praise your name,

for in perfect faithfulness you have done marvelous things,

things planned long ago.

 

A Holy Moment

Very few times in my life have I experienced a truly holy moment. 

 

One that takes your breath away. 

 

One that you can never remake. 

 

One that you wish you could stay in forever. 

 

Yesterday was one such moment.  And maybe it happens often and I am just too blind to see.  Blinded by my selfishness, my comfort, my ignorance so I don’t recognize the beauty of His presence.  Yet He still invites me in to another.  It was just another regular day here, nothing unique.  Same types of plans that have filled most of the last couple weeks.  But instead of walking down to see the ex-street kids my housemates and I sometimes hang out with, we decide to go into the slum where they came from and buy some current street kids dinner.  So we go.  To the slum.  To the trash heap where people live.

Where kids sniff airplane fuel to escape the tragedies of their life.  Where we wouldn’t even let our dogs go.   It’s hard to say this, but until you have been here you won’t understand.  I was not real affected.  Living here I’ve seen the poverty, the evil, the heartache everyday, everywhere I go.  As horrible as it sounds, it is hard to be shocked anymore.  I don’t particularly like that fact, and Jesus and I are working that out, but it is the truth.  Not that I didn’t see the disgusting clothes they wear, or think it sad that they call this place home, or wish for them a better tomorrow.  I just am no longer shaken. 

 

We walk through the streets ‘gathering’ kids along the way and end up at a community center type building.  We have managed to arrive with something like 40 boys and a few young girls who latched on to our fingers during the trek.  One of my housemates had a ‘random’ idea earlier in the day to stop by the pharmacy and pick up a few first aid supplies.  Some soap, band-aids, gauze, tape.  Simple things.  She brought it down with us thinking maybe someone might need something.  What a cool God prompting we would find out.  The moment we walk into the building they begin showing us their cuts and sores.  I would just like to point out here that I sometimes get nauseous when people just talk about wounds.  I’m not very good at bodily fluids or anything that looks like it might hurt.  And my friend Georgia is just like me.  So out of three, two of us are pretty sure we may end up passing out.  But then the Spirit of the LORD takes over and says be My hands and feet, live out the scriptures, be Jesus with skin on for these boys and I will be the strength and courage you need.  So we kick into gear creating an impromptu minor first aid clinic.  The boys line up and we prepare our supplies and one by one we clean their scratches, sores, and gashes.  
 

 

We apply gauze and tape; give them a smile and gentle touch.   They are just like any other kids, wanting someone to care about the boo boo.  Whether they are 8 or 18, the touch of someone tenderly and attentively caring for them is food for their souls.  We do this for around two hours.  The food comes and we are able to give them a sandwich bag of beans and chapatti.  Less quantity than I would eat for a snack.  Fights almost break out and the manipulation begins as they swear they did not receive any, even though I watched them eat it with my own eyes.  But after they eat they linger still.  There is only one last boy we are working on.  A two inch gash on the bottom of his foot with red flesh wide open leaving us all cringing just a bit.  Okay a lot actually (You’ll be happy to know, or at least we were thrilled, that no one passed out!).

  

And as he is being attended to, one of the uncles we have with us comes with a boy saying that he wants prayer.  He believes we are pastors and wants someone to pray over him.  He doesn’t know any English so after Joseph interprets for me I tell him I would love to but it won't be in Luganda.  The boy says that is fine.  So I put both hands on this boy and whisper in his ear prayers the best I can for someone I have never stood in the shoes of for even a millisecond.  I have to speak slowly because I am on the verge of breaking down into hysterics in this moment.  I am so grateful the Spirit interprets for me.  I’m not sure what to prayer for, much less how to pray for it.  As I rise and wipe off my sopping wet face, there have gathered another 6 or 7 who all want the same.  They don’t even know what I am saying and yet they want it too.  Yes, half of them were probably high, and maybe it was just because I was a white female, but does it really matter what brings us to His throne as long as we are there.  So I continue on down the line.  I realize later that my lack of surprise may not be all bad.  Because I am not taken aback by their smell or sores or drugged speech, I am able to accept these kids just as they are.  I can immediately shake their hand, give them a hug, listen to them tell their story.  I can touch their head and whisper a prayer.  I can give them a band-aid for their toe and hope it becomes more. 

 

We finish wrapping gash guy’s foot and tell the remaining ones goodbye.  In a moment that didn’t take an ounce of thought, the three of us decide we will come back in a few days to redress his foot and maybe clean some more wounds.  I wonder how many won’t just be physical.  I know that day will be different, and maybe spectacular in it's own way.  But it won’t be this day.  This day I fell more in love with my Savior.  This day was a holy moment. 

 

 

Until Next Time

I have been in Africa for 5 long, hard, beautiful months and soon I will be standing back on Oklahoma soil.  What a WEIRD feeling.  Every day that I am here is difficult in some capacity, whether it is simple things like no electricity or complex things like 12 year olds impregnated by their brother's rape.  And every day I think about home and the things I miss and the things I think I want so bad when I return.  But yet every day this place settles deeper and deeper into my being and those things fade just a bit.  So even when I found out I was finally going home, the moment of elation was short and the heaviness of leaving settled in.  It's hard to picture staying but I can't imagine going either.  When people say that Africa gets inside of you, they are telling the truth.  Whether you have been here 5 months or just 5 days, it touches you.  It embeds deep within, and steals a piece of your heart forever.

Maybe part of it isn't the physical place so much as it is the spiritual place.  I have been on one of the wildest adventures of my life and I don't want it to end.  I'm not ready to have all the old distractions vying for my affection to come rushing back in and divert me from the work at hand.  Being about my Father's work is the cry of my heart.  To know Him and make Him know.  I want to live in this intimacy forver.

From about day 2 this journey has looked entirely different than anything I thought it would be.  I am partly grateful for that.  Though incredibly difficult, it made every task, every word, every moment more reflective of Him.  I can take absolutely no credit for all that He did with HGI, because it was nothing like I intended.  I cannot for a moment claim that I made any progress on adoption, because all of my plans failed, it was all Him.  None of these days were as I envisioned and because of that I have nothing to boast in.  He deserves all the glory.  He wrote and exquisite story on my heart in these months, and I fear I'll never be able  to express it or reflect it with all the splendor it deserves.  But I will have it with me forever and I'll have Africa to go with it.  So until we meet again, I will carry this dust on my feet.


For those of you sad there was no adoption update in there, I apologize but I am not at liberty to go into details.  Just know that I am in the middle of a case.  So you can rejoice with me and continue to pray.  I hope to be able to shout something to the world soon!  Thank you for your love and support. 
I am eternally grateful.

A Few Pics

I haven't posted in a while so I thought I'd throw together some pictures.  Here is a short compilation of the last couple months.  Enjoy!

I have had the joy of meeting people from all over the world and sharing some fun experiences with them.



Visiting the largest mosque in Africa

my new friends from New Zealand and England



the view from the top overlooking Kampala

celebrating Louise's bday (in the middle, from London)

enjoying Passion World Tour in Kampala

 

at the movie store

 

my friends from New Zealand visiting me in Jinja - at Lake Victoria

I have been able to see some of the natural beauty here as well.

some falls on the River Nile

rainbows over Jinja

lightening storms in Kampala

There are these ex-street boys and, well, they are incredible.



local Uganda tv program highlighting their jewelry making



celebrating Louise's b-day with them





it is a dance party everytime we go -

and there are few things in this world better

participating in their new sponsorship video - stay tuned

And of course I have enjoyed the company of these precious people.

babies home in Kampala



Canaan's kiddos in Jinja



my Ruthie



Grace



Jesse



Sangaalo babies bath time - in Jinja



Noah

 

Faith

Ethan



making keepsake gifts for sponsors

 

 

 

 

 

one of the several trips to the hospital with Noah

 

the caretakers having a moment of fun

Noah and Andrew

 

 

 Just a small bit of my time :)

I Don't Know

I have said this phrase more than any other words in the last 6 months. 

'How long will you be gone?'

 

I don't know. 

 

'What will you be doing?' 

 

I don't know. 

 

'Do you have enough money?' 

 

I don't know. 

 

'Who are you adopting?' 

 

I don't know. 

 

 'What is the process like?' 

 

 I don't know.

 

 

 

Even now, not only do I still not have the answers to these questions, I have been left with many more unanswered. 

 

'Why has this been so hard?'

 

'Did I hear You right?'

 

'Why does every door close just as I think it is opening?'

 

'Why does it make no sense?'

 

 'What are you doing God?'

 

 

So I find that my most standard answer these days is still the same: I.don't.know.  But here is just one thing that I do know...I am more in love with Him than ever before.  And somehow that makes it all fade just a bit.  It doesn't magically make it all clear, but it brings peace in the storm, giving me strength to endure just one more day of more questions than answers.

Somehow There Is Beauty

I know that I have been a little quiet since arriving in Uganda. To be honest, I am having a little bit of a hard time processing this last month. I have done some research on adoption these past weeks and there is nothing worth reporting on just yet. So I continue to wait on Him, clinging to the promises He has made. I have had some really great times with a couple of girls I've met over here. They have become immediate friends and such a huge blessing. I have also spent some time with an incredible ministry that rescues street boys and my heart has been stretched and humbled by them in more ways than I can describe. Being at Canaan's has been a great blessing as well. I am very well taken care of and my heart has known the joy of Ruthie's company as often as I like :) Yet even still, I feel torn completely in two as thoughts of home overwhelm me most days.

 

 

Work at Sangaalo is where I spend most of my time and energy and where I feel most out of body. Watching Damalie care for these babies, knowing first hand the hardships and needs and difficulties of the life she is living, seeing the weight of her responsibilities, and then observing the most extreme grace and patience exude from her, simply leaves me speechless. And not just Damalie, but her entire staff. In just the last few weeks, they have had more days without running water than with. Only 1 of the 13 kids has NOT been seriously sick. The electricity is off regularly, the formula has run out, there are not enough diapers to keep them all clean and dry all day every day, and when one employee is off duty its like just trying to keep your head above water after treading for hours. I have held a baby in my arms only to have him take his last breath the next day. I have sat with an HIV+ baby while he gets a fluid drip all afternoon. I have taken sick babies to the clinic all alone on a motorbike in the rain. I have gone to plead with grandparents to care for their grandson only to have them decline. I have been to the market and walked blocks and blocks with 40lbs of food that is only half of the normal amount carried by one person. I have taken seriously sick babies to the hospital and waited hours to get diagnosed and treated. I have gone to the district child welfare office and seen the ridiculous processes involved in this work that leaves their hands tied. It has just been the most bizarre out of body experience. Trying to take it all in and process it and truly grasp that this is life for them. These things are just not right, yet it happens, every day. I will leave someday and probably soon. This is not my long term future. And it still overwhelms me, leaving my mind in a fog. I could never do it. I'm just not strong enough I think. But one thing I have come to know first hand from the direct experience of another, is that when scripture says His grace is sufficient, it is speaking the absolute truth. And somehow He makes it possible for one person to create beauty in the midst of ugly, one place to be light in the dark. Sometimes I think that if we knew the ugly that might lay ahead, many of us including me would retreat, consequently missing out on the beauty. But I assure you the beauty here is far greater than anything I've ever seen. Not a beauty you see with your eyes, only one you perceive with your heart. I want to have this kind of courage. The kind it takes to enter in, despite it all. I want to know more of Him in this way. I want to live in this kind of beauty. The kind He perceives, the kind where He is.

A Day in the Life of Me

My days at 'work' look far different now than they did a couple months ago. Here is my day captured in pictures.

*the drive to the 'office'...on the back of a boda (i'm pretty fond of this part of my day!)

*then off to look at land for the future of Sangaalo

the gaggle of giggling children
I picked up along the way

*research at a piggery (fun word, huh?!)

 

*mix in a visit to a school and a church then fixing a flat tire all among gorgeous views of Lake Victoria

*back to playing with precious babies (another of my favorite parts of the day!)

it doesn't get any cuter than this!

*the drive home