Lesson Learned

I will be honest, things have been a little crazy, and not so good lately. I know that with every great experience in which God is glorified, Satan does his best to attack and tear one down. This has been evident in almost every area of my life over the past few weeks. From struggles at work to struggles at home. But today was different.

I woke up and hour and a half late to discover I should have already left for work, but neglected to set my alarm. So after a quick shower,I ran out the door, knowing I did not take time to seek God and to be with Him, as I usually do. I remember thinking on my way to work that this was not the best decision! But,God had other plans.

If for some reason you don't know what I do each day...I teach...well, that might not be accurate. I have a classroom of 8 junior high age students that have some type of severe emotional disturbance. I really feel that my job isn't always about teaching what the state standards say, but instead my job is about providing stability and emotional support. Some days I get to teach a real lesson or two,and other days I am lucky to get through "How was your evening" without a major crisis.
As the day began to unfold, everything around me crumbled. The secretary was out, the teacher next door was taken to the hospital when her back went out, lunches were not accurate ( a long story in itself), but yet none of that mattered today. Instead, God gave me a gift, a lesson...

A few weeks ago, a new student arrived in my class. This kid is unlike any I have ever had in my class. Today, I had the chance to sit and work with him. As I did, Brandon Heath's song "Love Never Fails" played over and over in my head. I watched this student's eyes sparkle as he told me stories and as he caught on to what he was learning. If I didn't know his story, and hadn't witnessed the other side for myself, I would have thought he was a typical teen. After this time, I also had to meet with his family. As I listened to their story, my thoughts were on how their love never fails this child and how through their love, they have such hope for him. As the grandmother said to me through tears,"Tell me what I need to do. What more can I do to help him?" All I could say was, "You are doing it. Be there for him." I wish I could answer their questions and tell them the magical formula to change this. But I can't. Instead,I have the promise of a God who loves us and will never fail us.

When I finally had a chance to sit down today and just watch my students, I realized that I am their student and they are teaching me. I thought of the verse, "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no records of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices in the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. (1 Corinthians 13:4-8, NIV). I have never thought of this verse as it pertains to all relationships in my life or even to my job. But watching my students today, I realized that this is what God was calling me to do right now. Love each and everyone as he does...patiently, with hope, with a clean slate each and every minute. Why? Because this is how He loves me, and this is what it means to follow Him.

Tegatatoo

While in Africa, we were able to visit an IDP camp. IDP stands for Internally Displaced Persons. These camps were established during the civil war that lasted for twenty-three years. When people were forced from their village, they found refuge in these camps. Since the war is now over, these camps are being destroyed and people are being forced to return to their native villages. Sounds simple, right? Well, then one has to throw in the factors of most people have been born and raised in these camps, most do not have a savings account that will allow them to relocate and take care of their needs, there are no real estate brokers to show them the latest hut that just came on the market, and most do not have any means of transportation besides their two feet. A little more complicated than a move in the U.S..
But that isn't what we were there to experience. We went to the camp with another ministry called Every Child Ministries. As we were driving down the dirt road, we pulled off next to a large tree. They explained it was their prayer tree and it was their custom to stop and pray before going any further. After a moment of prayer together, we traveled to a rectangular hut. The hut was larger than the round huts, had no walls, just a grass roof. Inside their were four split logs for people to sit on. This was the Baptist Church. (Sorry, I can't remember the real name of the church). Someone was sent to get the straw mats for us to sit on. As soon as we arrived, the women and children began showing up. Children from the local school filled half the church to eat their lunch of rice and beans. The pastor took time to share a message with the women who had gathered to greet us. Many of the women stood up and told their stories. Some made the comment, that although they had not committed their life to Christ yet, they planned to do so as soon as things were perfect. Mama Miriam jumped on this opportunity and she shared with the women that there is no such thing as perfect that the time is right now. She shared the parable of the soils and what soil did the women want to be like. Three women gave their lives to Christ that day...Heaven rejoiced.


As with Kasubi, I found that the women were proud. They were proud of what they had, of their children, and of who they were. I had seen a young mother come into the hut with a tiny baby that looked like a newborn. She saw me watching her, she smiled, and motioned for a little girl to come to her. This little girl, who we later learned was six years old, then proceeded to bring me this tiny baby. I still don't know if it was a boy or a girl. But I dubbed him "Baby Wilson" and was instantly in love with his big brown eyes that seemed to take in my every move and understand my every word. He could not have weighed five pounds, but he was so alert. I found out later that he was a month old. I loved holding this little guy, talking to him, and loving him. His mom watched my moves and by her facial expression, I could tell she was proud of her baby and was pleased that I loved him so.
We met a little girl that stayed by Cindy's side the entire time we were there. I can't remember her name, except that it started with an "I." She brought Baby Wilson over to me and then stayed. She was fascinated with Cindy's hair and brushed her hands through it. She touched my tattoo, and took in our every move. She had a sore on her foot that looked horrid, but she didn't complain. She had an open wound filled with flies, but never winced when it was cleaned with a wet wipe and put a band-aid on it.
After all the school children were fed, bowls filled with rice and beans were placed in front of each of us. They fed us first, and then the women that had gathered shared what was left. As if the meal was not enough, suddenly a covered tray was brought out. Soda...in the middle of no where, we were served Coke. Having nothing but water with us, we offered the women the new water bottles that we had. We quickly realized that this was a bigger treat than the soda. They began handing the bottles back for someone to take off the safety seals. They didn't know how. Something so basic, a simple water bottle was a bigger gift than we could imagine.

Cindy took an empty water bottle and poured some of her soda in it for the little girl. As she took a sip, we were pretty sure it was her first taste of soda ever. Her eyes grew big and immediately her facial expression showed she liked it. She drank and would motion for more. We, of course obliged. I took pictures to show her that her tongue was orange like the soda. Cindy began singing with her, teaching her our favorite new song, "I belong to Jesus."
We went on a walk through the village. Seeing the huts that had been destroyed, the local market, and of course the people. The children flocked. They posed for the camera, grabbed our hands to walk with us, and laughed. So happy, with so little. As we walked, I realized the little girl who had been walking hand in hand with Cindy, was now taking her water bottle of soda and giving all the little children sips of her treasure. She could have kept it to herself. She only had an ounce or two in the bottle, but she chose to give it away.
As we ended our walk through the village, we were invited into a hut. There a woman, Naomi, had prepared a feast for us. We entered her hut and found chairs placed neatly in a circle around a little table and then food was placed on the table. The meal consisted of boiled potatoes and some type of warm peanut mush. (I will be honest and tell you that I was thanking God for the lack of light in the hut, while praying to survive the situation.) The visitors ate and the locals watched. Then came another round of soda. Now, looking around the hut, I realized there was nothing else there, no other furniture, no bed, no storage of food (besides the gigantic bag of rice). There was, however,a toothbrush and toothpaste tucked into the grass of the roof! We thought we had been given so much, then Naomi brought in her only chicken and presented it to Bill. Her ONLY live chicken.

Before we left, the women sang and praised God. It didn't matter that I did not know the words of the songs, I knew the message behind it. We left camp that evening with a rooster and a chicken that had been gifted to us and to Every Child Ministries. We name the chicken Fluffy Mc Nugget and left it at the Zion Project, thanking God it was too late for Mama Miriam to fix fried chicken that evening!

I think about my experience atTegatatoo a lot. I learned something there from the women who by American standards had so little, but gave us everything. They had no idea who we were, but they welcomed us. They trusted us with their children and their stories. They invited us to be part of their life. They loved us without asking for anything in return. Then when we thought they had given us all they had, they reached deeper and gave us more. I pray that I can learn to live and to love as freely as these women. I pray that I can trust in Jesus with my entire life, giving Him my all, without asking for anything in return. No holding back...all to Jesus, my blessed Savior.

Blessed

Yesterday I was sharing my pictures of Africa with a family member. As I scrolled through quickly, I realized that they really weren’t that interested. Maybe because there are so many! Afterward, he made the comment, “So you had good time?” I said "I was blessed" He answered, “Well good, I thought you would get over there and hate it.” I have thought about this conversation a few times and realized how funny it is to me. Maybe because right now, I feel it is the opposite. I didn’t hate Gulu, the people, the culture, the food (okay, the peanut mush and the meat are not on my list of favorites), the lifestyle; instead I fell in love. I fell in love with the people and the culture.
I didn’t hate Africa, I hated leaving. I hated returning to a materialistic, status driven, competitive society that has forgotten how to slow down and enjoy. I didn’t go to Africa to have a good time, I went to follow God. I can’t think of too many people that would consider being drenched in sweat and living without electricity a “good time”…Oh wait, I do, but I call it camping! I went to Africa to be obedient to God’s call, and in return I have been blessed beyond measure (and I did have a good time because of His blessings?.)
I can't believe that it has been almost a month since we left for Africa. Since returning home, things haven’t changed or slowed down, just because my perspective has changed. I realize that if I want it to change, I have to be the change for others to follow. I have to be the example and make the change happen. This is so much easier said than done. I have to learn to be on my knees more seeking God's guidance to what He wants me to change in my life, and then follow.
A few weeks before leaving for Africa, I heard a sermon about what did one want to leave behind as their legacy. I have wrestled with this for almost two months now. I don’t want my legacy to be of earthly matters. I want my legacy to be my faith and my obedience to God’s calling. I want my legacy to be of the treasures I have stored up in heaven, not here on earth. So I as I seek God's will for what and where I am to go next, I hold to the promise that God has great plans!