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!

Tears

I am NOT an emotional person. I never have been. But today, I have cried more than I have in a long time. This morning I received a phone call at 7:30 that set the mood for my day. This phone call must have been what broke through the wall, because since then, I have been an emotional wreck! I have cried all day!
Shortly after Kailie died, I met a woman who had just lost her baby, Noah. Over the past 8 1/2 years, we have held each other in prayer and been a strong support for each other. The funny thing is, in all that time, we had never talked on the phone or met in person. It was only last week that we took the plunge and began instant messaging. Even though we have never met in person, or even heard each others' voice, I know she is my friend and will be there whenever I need her.
While God has blessed me with two more children, she and her husband have prayed and tried for more children, but had not been granted this plea. Last month, she told me that they were beginning the IVF process. I knew the egg retrieval would happen around Kailie’s birthday, which also happens to be her nephew, who lives in Heaven, and her sister’s birthdays. As it turned out, the egg retrieval was on their birthdays. This morning, she broke all unwritten “no call” rules to tell me that she was looking at a positive pregnancy test! I cried. I cried in happiness, sharing her excitement and feeling all the emotions I felt when I found out that I was pregnant with Nicholas and with Aubie. I cried out of relief that her prayers had been answered, knowing that God's timing is different than ours and is perfect. I cried in praise for our God who listens to our hearts and has great plans. I cried because I was suddenly overwhelmed with so much emotion for how awesome God is and how he can take anything and use it for His good. I cried, well, because I could…
It is funny, that even though we have never talked in person or even met, I knew her voice the minute I answered my phone this morning. It was as though we had talked a million times and knew everything about each other. There was no awkwardness, no “what to say next” moments. Our friendship has been a total blessing, a gift from God.
As I cried, I thought about our friendship and how strong it is and how it put me in mind of my relationship with God… I don’t have to physically have seen God to know what he looks like. I have seen Him in the face of my children, of my friends, of the people I met in Africa. I do not have to have heard His voice to know His words as they are whispered in my ear, shared through a friend, or through His written word. I don’t have to see God to trust Him with my life and to know that He is the greatest friend, counselor, support that I will ever have. All I have to do is have faith, be willing to trust, and make that call…

Thank you Jesus for your greatness and for having a plan that is greater than we can ever imagine for each of us!

"I come from Zion..."

The main focus of our trip to Uganda was to work with the Zion Project. The Zion Project is the result of the prayers and hard work of Sarita Hartz and her dedicated staff (and family). Part of the Zion Project consists of a Children's Home that houses fourteen girls ages four to thirteen. These girls are orphaned or custody has been given to the Zion Project in order to keep these girls safe from a lifestyle that would be considered our greatest nightmare. At their young age, they have seen and experienced more than many of us ever will in our entire lifetime.
The girls were so excited to have company from far away. Each time we went to the house and each time we went to leave, it was like a flood of hugs. When someone grabbed a book to read, there may be one girl sitting at the beginning, but soon a crowd would be gathered. They loved their pictures to be taken. They would pose and then gather around to see. These girls have every right to be bitter and and angry; to not trust and shy away from strangers. Instead, they were happy and welcoming.
The first night we arrived, Mama Miriam who helps care for the girls, had helped the girls prepare a program. As the girls sang songs of praise and danced, I teared up. To be so young, yet so full of love for God. The girls sang with all their heart and prayed unlike I have ever heard any child pray.
The next time we went, the girls were so excited to sit outside and color! Their pictures were filled with vibrant colors. I knew Joseph had a coat of many colors, but I was unaware that Joseph himself was so colorful, until I looked at the pictures! :-) While playing outside, they would randomly break into song. One would start and soon others would follow. They were happy to spend time with us and with each other.
I have been surprised by people's reactions to my trip to Africa. For the most part, people are supportive and anxious to hear about it. But there have been the people who want to know how spending a week in a third world country filled with poverty, AIDS, disease, trash, stench, hunger, etc could be so rewarding. I try hard to respond by smiling and understanding that if you haven't been there to see and experience it, it would not make sense. Yes, all of these were present, but all it took for me to see a different side of Africa, was to pull through the gates of the Zion Project. Fourteen faces smiling, showing excitement. Fourteen sets of feet jumping up and down. More hugs being shared than I ever dreamed possible in a two minute period. These girls are a walking testimony of the healing power of our mighty God. This was the reason that Africa was so beautiful to me. It was through the compassion of these children and all the other welcoming people that I experienced Africa.

The Teaspoon

One of the first places we went outside of the Zion Project was to the Kasubi Slum. This was a small area outside of town where the Congolese sex workers and the mothers to some of the girls at the Zion Project live. The first thing I noticed was that in all actuality, it was cleaner than Gulu. Not nearly the amount of trash laying around. The children were outside and naturally curious at the arrival of our van. As we unloaded the van and assembled in the middle of the slum, a young boy caught my eye. He did not come up in the crowd initially, but he stood in front of his hut. Clutched in his little hands was a plastic white teaspoon. When he came over to check us out, he still held that teaspoon tightly in his hand, held to his chest. I realized that this tiny piece of plastic, as insignificant as it seemed to me, was this child's prized possession. I went through my pictures to see if I could find this little guy, but no such luck.
Kasubi, I think was I think one of the best parts of my trip. When we arrived, people began to assemble around us. One of the girls grabbed our drum and began the beat. We then danced and praised our God under a mango tree...in Africa! Afterward, the women began bringing couches out of the huts so that we would not have to sit on the ground...as they did. Then the girls each took a turn sharing their stories with us and telling us how God's love was so important to them. The girls were very proud of their children. They brought their babies for us to hold and to awwww over. I received quite the visual demonstration on how the copper bracelet kept Baby Joy from puking after breastfeeding (Use your own imagination here. Gestures are the universal language!) Baby Patrick christened my shirt with pee. The women straightened dresses and stuck the children in front of us for pictures to be taken.
Each wanted us to pray over their huts. They took us by the arm and led us around the slum, stopping when needed to share with us a story and ask for prayer. It was at Kasubi that I met Sarah, the young mother that had recently lost her three children.
I met Joseph at Kasubi as well. He looked to be about six, so I am sure that he was probably nine or so. Joseph came and stood next to me while I was sitting on the couch, listening. I felt his little hand touch my arm a few times before I really paid attention to what he was doing. Each time the wind blew dirt on my skin, he picked it off and cleaned my arm. When a seed fell in my hair, he picked it out. I took Joseph and sat him on my lap, where he settled in. His clothes were dirty and ragged, the back of his shirt was missing, and his skin was dirty. Yet, he spent his time making sure I was clean. His eyes were filled with a smile and his face was welcoming. He took my hand and walked with me for as long as he could before returning home. Joseph taught me a lesson in humility. To have so little, but to be willing to serve with what he did have...heart.
Today, I went to walk down to the basement to wash laundry. Laying in the middle of the stairwell was a metal teaspoon. Immediately, my mind shifted from the agenda that I was mulling over to my time under the mango tree. I am so thankful that God loves me enough to remind me of the little boy and his teaspoon, and how little it takes to really be happy. It isn't about what I don't have or how much I do have. It's all about God's love. I am thankful that as the little boy clutched that teaspoon with all his might, that God does the same for each of His children. Clutching us in his arms, close to his heart, telling us over and over that we are His prized possession...

Nine Years...

Nine years ago today, my daughter, Kailie was born. Nine years ago today, she returned to heaven. I remember the pain and grief that I felt. I didn't understand and I was so hurt. Never would I have thought God would use this experience to do great things in my life. Losing my child has allowed me to minister to others and has created deep friendships with so many others that I may have never connected with. For this I am grateful. Yet still, I had no idea how God could use this...even in Africa.
While at the Kasubi Slums last week, I was given the opportunity to pray with a woman who had recently lost three of the four of her children in a fire. Later I had found out that the woman had just accepted Christ in her life. As I prayed for her and then shared that I understood her pain, we embraced. In that moment, nothing else mattered--language barriers were lifted and circumstances faded. We were two mothers sharing a grief that I would not wish on anyone. It is my prayer that as she learns to walk in faith and finds comfort in God, that she will remember the white woman that came and shared her pain with her. This one moment that we shared, is by far one of my favorite moments of the entire trip.
God doesn't wish anything bad on anyone. He did not take Kailie or Sarah's three children. He didn't take my friend's little Noah or Syre. The truth is we live in a fallen world that is so far away from what God had intended. But when we can reach out and give the situation back to God, He will use our pain and suffering in ways that is beyond imaginable. He has proven this to me time and time again! For this I am grateful!

wow...

There is so much that I want to share, but right now there is too much to process and so much else to do.
Our time in Uganda was nothing short of a magnificent gift from God. We witnessed God working in ways that is beyond measure or words. We went to minister to the women and children of Uganda, but I feel the table was turned and we were ministered to by the women and children of Uganda.
Hopefully by this weekend I will have time to sit and share the experience for all of those that have supported the team financially and or spiritually.

We serve a mighty God, my friends. My life has been richly blessed...