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How did what go?
The past 6 months. When I last wrote, in July, Collins (my then fiance) and I were working through the application process for a visa for him to come to America. We were trying to live very presently in Uganda, enjoying all of our boys and every moment with family and friends there, and yet preparing as much as possible (and praying as much as possible) to get our visa and come to the US for our wedding on August 21st.
Collins had 3 different embassy appointments canceled on him. He made several 12-hour bus trips to Kenya (to the embassy where his interviews were) before he finally was taken inside and told that his file had already been approved. He picked his passport up with the visa stamped inside, and came home to Uganda for a whirlwind 3 days of packing and saying good-byes.
We flew to the US and landed in NYC on a Monday evening, and drove home to my parents house, arriving Tuesday afternoon.
Our wedding was scheduled for Saturday, and now that we were in the country, we had a lot to do!!!
Several wedding dresses were waiting for me to try them on...I choose the most beautiful one, and the alterations were done just in time for the ceremony. Bridesmaid dresses needed to be altered. Programs and decorations had to be made and hung, rehearsals needed to be had, phone calls and appointments needed to be made and kept...and my family finally got to meet Collins!!!
It was a crazy few days, but by the time I walked down the aisle to my handsome husband, everything was PERFECT. And I mean that- so many friends blessed me and family that day. From the church to the musicians, to the gift of my dress to the food and music at the reception...a million things could have gone wrong, but they didn't, and Collins and I had the wedding I had always dreamed of! I could not have asked for more!
During the ceremony, and again during the reception while everyone was under the pavilion and eating, it rained. It didn't dampen our spirits though, and Collins and I both called it a blessing- I learned that long ago in Uganda, that rain is a blessing from God.
If you ever need a reminder about how God can take care of the details, just give me a call and ask how He pulled off my wedding. He's so good!
Many of you have heard about the bombings that happened here in Kampala just over a week ago. Three bombs went off in 2 locations in the city (a 4th failed to detonate) and the death toll was over 70, with many more wounded. It was a very shocking thing here in Kampala. (Thankfully, those near and dear to me are all safe. Collins did lose a step-cousin and friend, and many more lost loved ones)
Since those Sunday night incidences, various other "bombs" have been found but have not detonated. The city has been on edge ever since, and security has increased 100%. Each day, it seems, there is another place where you're bags are checked, there are more policemen in the city, and a person has to wonder what will happen next.
On Sunday, I went to church as usual- the unusual thing, though, was that there were 3 security guards and 2 police at the door. I had to hand over my purse for searching and was patted down to make sure I wasn't carrying a weapon or wearing a suicide vest (I wasn't!).
Now, before you get defensive- everything was fine. I did not for a moment feel that my rights were being abused. Rather, I felt sad. Sad that even going to church could make you a target for a terrorist attack. That being a Christian puts a big red bulls' eye on you for these sects of people who hate everything I believe in and live for. I was sad because I have actually seen the day come when you can't trust anyone, and that a church can not be a place of refuge. A sad day indeed.
I've been through multiple security checks since Sunday morning. Two more in particular stand out in my mind; both instances happened today.
I walked through the gates to the hospital. I was holding hands with a child that does not live with me, that I have no rights or responsibilities to (I was taking the soon-to-be-adopted son of a Canadian couple for a doctor's appointment); the little boy in turn was holding onto the hand of a Ugandan man who is a stranger to me, and also is not responsible for the boy. A very strange arrangement- but we were never questioned about it.
We reached security, and they passed a wand over my bag. The wand beeped and beeped. "What's in your bag ma'am?" the man asked.
"Keys," I replied, and he waved me on. The Ugandan man accompanying me and my charge raised an eye-brow and hhhmph-ed. "Some security. They don't even check in the bag...what if you didn't just have keys in there?" I agreed that it was just another hole in the increased security. I proceeded to tell this guy about the New Taxi Park...if you enter through entrances on 2 sides, you will be checked and scanned...but if you walk 50 ft around the corner, you can just walk in and no one will stop you.
Later in the day, I discovered that the Taxi park situation had changed. Today, there were 2 policemen at the entrance I usually use, the one that hadn't had any checks previously. I stopped in front of them and held out my bag. (It's such an awesome thing to know you have nothing to hide and anyone can check your bag and you don't have to worry about being accused of something!) The first policeman asked me what was in it. I opened the top, and the first thing I saw was my little Bible with a red jacket that zips shut. "My Bible," I said, and I intended to list the rest of the contents- my wallet, my keys, a notebook, and a paper from the doctor's office- but never got to finish.
"Do you read your Bible?", Policeman asked.
"Yes, I do."
"And, do you believe in God?"
"Yes, I do."
"Well, Praise to Him then."
"Amen," I answered, hoping he was just changing the words a little bit to a common Christian greeting here, to which an "Amen" would indicate that I, too, am a Christian.
His smile split his face and he waved me past. I walked 15 more feet to my taxi, thinking about the fact that my admittance to believing in God and being a Christian verified my character as peaceful and honest, and gave me freedom! I don't even know how to describe that feeling- a joy, an elation, a remembrance that no matter how much of a target a Christian might be, God has ALREADY won the victory, and He is good and glorious, and nothing- NOTHING- is greater than He!
Pray that there will never be a time when we are ashamed or too weak to proclaim the God we serve. He WILL be faithful!!
- Location:Ssenge, Uganda
- Music:Robin Mark
I don't too often write about the personal things going on in my life. But, for any of you who read this and don't know the story yet, here's a glimpse into another major area of my life...
I'm engaged!!! Old news, I know...Collins asked me to marry him on Valentine's Day. It's a pretty incredible thing to not have a doubt in your heart about whether or not you want to spend the rest of your life with a person. A rather old journal entry described Collins- he's one of my heroes. He has a heart of gold, and would rather give the shirt off his back to a kid who needs it than say no. He challenges me to give and never stop giving, to love and never stop loving...and at the end of the day, he still has time for a soda and a chat with me.
Today we were doing some things together- including replacing my engagement ring (also a long story that won't fit in this post) and having our fingers measured for wedding bands. We went in a jewelry shop named "Dona", a rather non-descript looking place from the outside, and a very plain place inside with Islamic prayers hanging crookedly on the bare walls and half-empty necklace display case. We looked at their small selection of jewelry and picked one to have resized. The young woman (who I assumed to be Indian) was very nice, and while we waited for the ring, she asked if we were getting engaged. Collins got a big smile on his face and told her we already are and are getting married soon. Then he walked out of the room to buy airtime for me, like the sweetie that he is.
When he stepped out the door, the girl turned to me again. She had a million questions- Where were we getting married? When? How long ago did we meet? Where did we meet? What did our families think?
I answered, and told her that at first our families were a little hestitant, but after meeting each of us, my parents now love Collins, and his family are excited that we're getting married, too. I told her that once they realized we were serious about each other, they knew that we want to commit ourselves to each other for the rest of our lives. And then she said, with a hint of jealousy in her voice:
"So, then, you are marrying for love."
I looked at her, comprehending what she said. "Yes," I replied,"we are marrying for love."
She proceded to tell us (Collins had come back in by that time) how she has a boyfriend, but his mother is still in Pakistan and refuses to let them marry. Why? we asked. "Because I am educated and have an open mind. She is a villager and thinks her son should marry someone who stopped school at 10 years and instead learned to cook. But mostly, because I am from Uganda." Even though they love each other, tradition says they can't marry.
We talked for probably 20 minutes about marriage customs in her culture, particularly about arranged marriages- exactly what her boyfriend's mother and aunts would prefer. The mother is also a witch, and will sometimes 'cast spells' on them to mess up their relationship.
***
My relationship with Collins is absolutely incredible. Each day I thank God for this amazing gift of a best friend and fiance. All those girlhood dreams of what it would be like to finally find the 'perfect' man...and all those prayers that God would protect and guide the man that He had chosen for me...although absolutely human and not perfect, Collins is just that person that I always prayed I would get to share my life with. I'm walking through an amazingly exciting time of life!The other day I was thinking about the metaphor of Christ and His Bride, the Church...us. I was thinking about how much it means to me that Collins calls me just before I fall asleep each night to tell me he loves me...and when I wake up in the morning to him calling to say 'good morning' and to tell me 'I love you'...and how much God wants us to have that same communion with Him, because every day He renews His love for us with a sunrise and whispers goodnight with the evening breeze and writes His love in the sky with the stars.
I thought about how excited I am for the day when I get to walk down the aisle and see Collins waiting for me there, knowing that he holds my heart and is going to care for me for the rest of my life, and that he has entrusted me with his heart...of the eager anticipation we should have of walking down that aisle to Christ, knowing that He will forever be ours, that His love will last until eternity, and that He desires relationship with us, His bride.
Because God wants to marry us for Love.
Besides looking like an old man, Jjajja Richard is the sweetest boy in the world. He has a quiet, measured way about his words, and he's too frail (he does have some sort of health condition that makes him so thin and old-looking) to hurt anyone, even with his words. He became a Christian a while ago, and he just loves Jesus with all his heart! We regularly see him in town or in the market area, preaching to the crowds and telling them about the love God has for them. Talk about a sweetie!
Early last week, I was walking with David just at dusk. His phone rang, and he was told that Jjajja Richard was at a police station and something bad had happened to him. David left me to finish the errand, and he went to check out what had happened. He found me a while later, and said everything was ok now.
I kinda forgot about the incident until a few days later when Jjajja Richard sat down in one of the chairs in front of me to receive some first-aid treatment. I looked at him for a second and at the nasty line across his neck. (I'm sorry, for those of you who know Richard, please sit down to keep reading this.) Off to the right side of his neck, I could see where the line crossed, as if...something had been tied around his neck. I shifted in my seat, and asked Richard how he was.
"I'm fine, Auntie. It's just that this hurts some." and he pointed to his neck.
"Richard, what happened?" I asked, even though my stomach was already knotting, knowing what was coming.
" I was walking, in Kiseka Market, near where they buy scrap. You know that place? I was coming here for the night, and the police stopped me and asked me why I was walking there so late. And then they took a wire and wrapped it around my neck. Two men took the ends of the wire, one stood on that side of me, and one on this side, and then they just kept pulling on it. It hurt so much, Auntie."
I tried really hard to not let me face show what I was feeling inside. I felt very nauseous, and my hands were trembling. I cleared my throat and tried to ask him so more questions about the incident. I wanted to let the flood of tears down my cheeks so that my eyes could stop burning so intensely. For a moment in my mind's eye, I was there with Richard, seeing the fear on his face and the peace in his heart. This dear boy was almost beheaded with a wire by two policemen, and he was telling me the story. He exposed his thin chest and showed me a few wounds where he had also been beat by the men, and then lifted a pant leg from a skinny calf to show me the bite marks from the police dog that had been sicced on him.
I felt sick, to say the least. I wanted to take Richard in my arms and sob. I wanted him to take me to those policemen so that I could beat them up and give them what-for. I wanted to make those men pay with double the pain that they had inflicted on this humble young man! What injustice!
I didn't hide all my pain. I did hold back the tears, but I let my face wince, and I let Richard see that his pain hurt me, too. And then I told him how sorry I was, how sad it made me that he had been so misused. I let him know that it was a terrible thing that had happened to him.
In talking about the details later, David thought that maybe it was some security guards who had commited this atrocity. I asked Jjajja Richard about it the next time I saw him, suggested security guards...but no, he knew who it was, and he knew it was police. I asked him more questions, over and over again...and again, he confirmed that it was dusk, not yet dark, and he was one his way to reach the church by dark...
There's no reason not to believe Richard, and there's no denying the scar that he will carry on his neck of the constant reminder of how low humanity has fallen.
Even so, come, Lord Jesus!
- Mood:crushed
- Music:Ceadmon's Cal
This morning I was by the water tank, chatting it up with Henry. (By the way...Henry has the CUTEST English!!) We heard General, the dog, barking behind the house, and then the dog ran past the corner and looped around and ran back out of sight. He did this a few times...and about the third time, a mother hen chased behind him.
I listened for a second and I could hear baby chicks peeping! I was so confused by the dog's behavior, but then peeked around the corner and I saw what was happening:
The mother hen has a clutch of young chicks, about 6 or 7 of them. They were bunched up along the wall. The black-feathered mother hen was running in a semi-circle around them, facing General and his running back and forth. Every few seconds, she would dart out and actually attack the dog!! He would run off, only to turn around and terrorize her again...but not once did she give up protecting her babies!
I laughed at our gangly dog, and even called to him to back off, although I could see he was just playing with the momma hen. Just then, he did run toward me, and for a moment, General, Henry, and I were all squished in the same 2-foot space between the house and the tank...and here was the momma hen right on his heels and ready to peck the first thing she came in contact with! Henry yelled and I screetched as a picture flashed in front of my eyes of the hen pecking my feet to pieces!!! (She didn't...somehow I got out of the way, or maybe my screetch scared her for the first time!)
General continued to harass the hen, the chicks ran to the front of the house and away from the dog, and Henry and I continued on with our mornings. But I thought about it for a while...that chicken chasing a tall dog! How humorous...how parental...how loving...how self-sacrificing...a mother's love for her children. She didn't pause for a moment, didn't take a second to catch her breath- she simply met the enemy in it's approach, and VERY actively sent it running again!
If only we as Christians were as protective of our hearts, of our time, of our children...to meet the enemy as it approaches, no matter how big it seems, and send it running with it's tail between it's legs!
- Location:Ssenge
It was a difficult trip, to say the least. A 10-hour bus ride. The others being left behind at the border, so arriving in a strange city alone. A very basic place to stay for the night. More taxi rides, in the rain, foreign language, and lots of confusion. Hours later, hiring bicycles to take us to the parents' home.
I had been watching Innocent the whole time, watching his face as he looked out the bus windows. He had a smile on his face as we pulled away from Kampala...but the closer we got to Rwanda, the more he started bouncing with excitement in his seat. By the time we got on the bicycles, he could hardly suppress a smile.
The evening before, I asked him how he was feeling..."Just so happy. I'm excited to see my family again." Why? "I haven't seen them in 4 years!" How have you spent those past 4 years? "A woman convinced me to go to Kampala to work for her. She would pay me 3,000/= (roughly $1.50 USD) each month. But then she just stopped paying me and still expected all the same work. I finally got tired of it and ran away one day, and became a street kid. And at the end of January, I found out about the church in Kivulu and the programs you have there for street kids. That's how I started to come." Did your family know you had gone to Kampala? "No, I left with the woman one day but didn't tell anyone where I was going. Nobody knows where I have been."
His story ran through my head as we started the ride on the bicycles, each of us seated on a small platform behind the rider of the bike, our feet on pegs on the back wheel. When I sat down, I thought my seat had a cushion...but as the minutes and kilometers ticked by, I realized there wasn't much cushion at all. At one of the more painful parts of the journey, riding almost straight down a mountain-side and praying for all I was worth that the bike wouldn't hit a stone and twist out from under us, I thought of the boy's family. Would they welcome him? Would they be happy to see him? Or would they be mad that he had run away? Would they even be at the end of this long bike ride...or would have they moved to a different town, or have died? What if they didn't want their son back...then what would we do?
Heavenly Father, I beg you, let this be a happy home-coming. Please Lord, let these parents be overjoyed to see their son!
It's always a bit iffy taking street kids home to their families. More often than we would like, parents aren't very happy to see their children. It's heart-rending when all the child wants is to be home, and the parents are disgusted that he has come. Please Lord, not one of those receptions...
Finally, several hikes up mountains and rides down the other side, the boy said we were home. At one point in the trip, we had passed a man herding cows- when he saw Innocent, it took him a moment to recognise who it was, but then the old man came and wrapped his arms around the boy and was so happy to see him...I continued my prayer that his parents would respond the same way.
We hopped off the bikes and a man with a sun-withered face came to meet us. He stared in disbelief for a moment, having a hard time grasping that his son was standing there in front of him. He finally found his voice and said, "I thought you had died. Four years ago, I thought you had died. But you have come home!!" and then he, too, wrapped his arms around his son and pulled him into his fatherly embrace.
We followed the father and son to the mud hut and sat down in the shade. Neighbors came to greet Innocent and welcome him home (and unfortunately, to stare at their first muzungu and the camera she was clicking away). Someone had gone to bring the mother, and after a few moments, the crowd parted and another thin, leathery face came through the crowd. She, too, was speechless for a moment, and then she put her hand to her chest and pulled out the rosary she had around her neck. When she finally found her voice, she said, "I have prayed every day for the past 4 years that God would bring you home. He has answered my prayers! Every day, for the past 4 years, I have prayed! And now you are here!" She repeated this over and over as she, too, pulled her son into an embrace.
It was incredible. One of the happiest homecomings I have ever had the priviledge of witnessing! And suddenly, my body didn't feel so sore and achy from the trip, and it didn't matter to me that all these people were staring at my white skin. God had used me to answer the prayers of a mother for her son. God had used me to reunite a family. As hard as the trip had been (and would continue to be- we had ridden down so many hillsides, and now we had to walk up them; we would be given wrong directions; we would have long rides and border crossings and no real food for a while still), it was all worth it.
We shook hands and said goodbye, but the mother held onto my hand longer- and this time repeated, over and over, "Murakoze, murakoze..." The word lingered in my thoughts through the hours of travel...
"Murakoze- Thank you."
- Location:Ssenge, Uganda
On March 31st, my eldest brother, Dan, and his wife, Emily, gave birth to their second son, Samuel. He was born with a herniated diaphram and was airlifted to a hospital with a Neonatal ICU, where he has been on life support since.
I just got this update from Dan, and our prayers are being answered. This has been a heavy burden to my family, but we are believing (and the doctors are seeing) that we serve a miracle-working healing God. Please keep my nephew Samuel in prayer as God continues to touch his body, that he would be completely well! Thank you!
"Here's an update, feel free to forward this on to whomever you'd like. We're waiting on the Lord........
Samuel had big days Thursday and Friday. Before Thursday he had numerous IV's in his arms and legs supplying nutrients, pain meds, etc. The doctors installed a PICC (?) line in his leg that could handle all of these functions. He was also taken off the paralytic drug that restricted his movement. Yesterday morning the doctors removed his ventilator tubes that brought oxygen in and carbon dioxide out, along with a third tube that was pumping excess fluids out of his stomach. Emily was able to hold him yesterday for the first time. Praise God!
Last night I went to the hospital and Sam was doing ok but seemed to have very labored breathing. After Emily and I held him for a while his saturation levels started to drop and nurse quickly gave him supplemental oxygen. It was stressful for him and us as all of our hear rates went through the roof. As of last night this drop was somewhat of a mystery.
It seems that Sam is progressing, but in the NICU they are fond of say "two steps forward and one step back." Samuel needs continued prayer in the coming days for his little lungs to keep growing. X-rays and stethescopes are determining that everything is right and clear inside his little torso but he needs a powerful surge of God's power to pull him over this hump.
Thankfully, we know that God's hand is big enough to cover all of us in this stressful time. Emily and I need your prayers as well. Will is doing fine, enjoying time with his Nana and can't wait to meet his little brother.
Thank you all so much for your prayers and continued petitions, we are confident God is doing, and will continue to do, a mighty work in our son Sam.
With love,
Dan"
From an Auntie in far-away Uganda-
Jess
Update: May 27, 2010
Samuel is doing fantastic! He was released to go home on April 22. God healed him and strengthened him to be able to join his brother, Will, and his mom and dad back in NNY. The doctors had projected a much longer recovery period, but we serve a mighty, healing God!
*jess
For several months now, I've been praying about a certain issue. I've been praying specifically what our policy should be as far as accepting boys BACK after they have run away from our homes. In Ssenge, we started out by telling a run-away who asked to return that he could come back, but that would be his ONLY chance, that if he ever ran again, he would not be able to live at Ssenge again.
(Please close your eyes and envision a dirty child, covered in the dirt that comes from not having any clean water for 2 weeks, to drink or to bathe in. He's gotten quite a bit thinner in the past 2 weeks since he ran from the home you had provided for him, with all of the food and clothes and fun and love a child could need. You fell in love with him months ago when he was a most pathetic character, high on drugs, perpetually sick, and needing someone to tell him he's loved. And now, he's sitting in front of you, both of you knowing that you hold his destiny in the next choice you make and the next words you speak. You know that the best thing for this child is to be in a loving home...but you also know you can not force him to be anywhere. You actually have to turn this decision over to this 10-year-old child, and HE has to make this decision that will determine the course of his life...you have to give him the guidelines that if he comes back and ever gets mad and runs away, he will never have a chance with your home again. It's a heart-wrenching conversation you are having...)
I still think that this policy is good. The concern and risk is that by allowing a child back into the home, he may convince another child to run away with him to the streets. (And unfortunately, that is exactly what happened in the case I just asked you to evision.)
So I took the matter to prayer. And it seems that for 3 months now, every answer I've been getting centers around the (undisputable) fact that God LOVES us, that He always forgives us, and His greatest desire is for us to live with Him. I find it difficult to think that if God were here in Ssenge, that He would tell a child not to come home again, and I think He would take the risk of allowing Himself to love the child again, even though the child might not really desire to be here, but just wants to take a friend with him.
I've read numerous books recently (essentially every verse in my Bible; Father to the Fatherless- the Charles Mulli story; The Cross and the Switchblade, for example), and there have been passages in all of them in which they speak of their own ministry to street children and that giving them yet another chance is paramount- because maybe this time they will come around, and God has put us in a place to love them. My heart has been convicted that this is the proper course of action, and that taking the risk is the right thing to do.
Yesterday, I was on my bed reading (finally taking a day off), and I found this passage in the book "Hinds Feet on High Places", by Hannah Hurnard.
"For He loves each one of us...as though there were only one to love."
Approximately 30 seconds later, Moreen stuck her head in my door to say that Seruga had come back...my handsome Seruga, the one who ran away 2 months ago and tore my heart apart in doing so. This was the first time a boy has ever come all the way back to Ssenge! I went outside and there he was, in the field ajoining our property, to scared to come close to the house, Lala coaxed him to come near us, and then I got to wrap my arms around him in a hug and welcome him home. He had walked all the way back, himself taking the gamble that only maybe would we accept him back.
But now, the decision...do we let him stay or not?
We talked with him for a long time, and Seruga will be living with us again. The next few days and weeks will be tenuous, and with a touch of concern because we have to take him at his word that he isn't going to run away again. But I'm thankful that we're letting him back into our home and our hearts...and we're going to take the risk of loving him again, knowing that he might turn around and wound us deeply.
And as scary as that risk can be, my heart is very glad that I can take it. And I truely believe that God has smiled down on us- that much is evident by Seruga's smile and the way he was skipping through the compound this morning.
But now, the decision...do we let him stay or not?
We talked with him for a long time, and Seruga will be living with us again. The next few days and weeks will be tenuous, and with a touch of concern because we have to take him at his word that he isn't going to run away again. But I'm thankful that we're letting him back into our home and our hearts...and we're going to take the risk of loving him again, knowing that he might turn around and wound us deeply.
And as scary as that risk can be, my heart is very glad that I can take it. And I truely believe that God has smiled down on us- that much is evident by Seruga's smile and the way he was skipping through the compound this morning.
I had gotten up earlier to make sure the boys were all off to school and spent a few moments talking with Ivan who has remained home because he's ill once again. (Please pray for my little Ivan here in Ssenge. He can barely go for 2 weeks without coming down with fevers and headaches. I need wisdom to know what to do and where to take him to get better treatment.)Then I went back to bed for another 40 minutes or so, during which time I had a dream...
I don't exactly know where I was in the dream. Most of the people in the dream were white, and most people had blond hair. I was inside a building, and then inside a room, talking with a woman who gave me chills and a creepy feeling. The next moment, I was outside the room, leaning against a wall with a window in it. On the other side of the window was Abas, an older African Hearts boy. We were chatting it up and I introduced him to Ivan- I had brought him with me because he wasn't in school today- and I was shocked to see that Ivan was a tow-head blond!!! (Will wonders never cease!)
The next moment I was looking out a door at the gorgeous windswept beach and thought how fun it would be to take Ivan for a walk and play in the waves...and then the water was swirling all around the building and my precious Ivan was drowning in the water!! I somehow was able to reach him...and then 'woke' up from the dream within the dream, and Ivan was standing beside me, there was no flood, and the beach was still beautiful.
Now, I was back in the original room with the creepy lady. There was a small, very pale and very blond little girl in the room. Ivan was playing somewhere. And then the woman began to mistreat the girl, including trying to drown her. I managed to pull the girl out of the water and went to get help, only to find out that the security guy was in on the whole abuse. I was frantic to get help and absolutely enraged that these two adults could treat such a small vulnerable child this way...and then I remembered Ivan. He was in the room somewhere, but where? And would they try to hurt him as well? I hated to leave the little girl with them in the room, too. I finally saw Ivan's blond head under the desk, so I reached down and tried to get him to follow me with out drawing the other peoples' attention to him.
I was so scared, and my heart was beating so fast- and then I woke up. The birds were chirping and I could hear Ivan singing to himself. I put my hand to my chest to see if that really WAS my heart beat making all that other noise in my ears, but still I'm not totally sure because my whole body was shaking with emotion.
Fear. Anger. Panic. Helplessness.
The emotions of the children God has given me to care for.
- Location:Ssenge, Uganda
While drinking my tea, reading my Bible, and now checking my e-mail and blogging, the sun has risen above the buildings and is already proclaiming that today is going to be another very hot day...
It's another beautiful day in Uganda!
I think early morning-time is when I cherish creation the most. Everything looks fresh and new, and I wonder how similar it was to those first mornings in Eden. I love to get up and watch the mist rise, to hear the birds chirping and hear life begin to start around me (although, in Ssenge, it doesn't start silently...my boys LOVE to make lots of noise in the morning...but once they leave for school, there are moments of blessed peace that I revel in!)
And as I read my Bible, it almost feels like God is sitting right next to me, bringing peace and solace into my heart and soul. It's the time when the cooler breeze caresses my cheek and I breathe in hope and breathe out prayers of thanksgiving to my God for another day, for another chance to do His will, another opportunity to walk the path that He has laid before it. It's these early morning communions in which I can rest in knowing that I just need to take the next step on this journey and for a few moments I can remember that I don't have to understand the whole plan for my life (although sometimes this peace flits away as soon as I get to town and feel the pressures and burdens of what this step requires). But each morning, I am renewed this way. Each morning I can find refreshment in my Lord. And although sometimes I long to remain in my cozy bed and dream away the time, this precious time with God and His creation is intoxicating and draws me from my bed to wave good-bye to the boys and then have a cup of tea with the Lord.
- Location:Ssenge
- Mood:peaceful
- Music:Arise, King of Kings!!
