To make a long story....long.

Last Sunday I woke up in the middle of the night to a very loud squeaking noise.  Let me first say that I am not a light sleeper.   This squeaking was less like that of a rusty door and more like a freight train. (Maybe I’m exaggerating a tad…but anyway). I knew exactly what it was.  A rat.  Like most American girls I am quite terrified of rats.  I could tell it was coming from exactly where my hidden stash of chocolate was located (please don’t be deceived and think that I have had an abundance of chocolate this summer, but since I went to Kampala last week I was able to snag a bar).  I figured it would quickly steal away my bar and be on its merry way.  Two hours later it was still squeaking and tears were rolling from my face.  Call it stupid, or silly, but I was truly scared.  I couldn’t move out of shear fright and I dare not call out to anyone for help since there were many babies in the house sound asleep.  I was literally praying that the sun would come up quicker.  Finally, after what seemed like eternity the noise stopped and I was able to fall asleep.  After talking to Willy about it the next morning he told me it probably wasn’t a rat but a cockroach.  So that night I begged just about everyone in the house to sleep with me.  I couldn’t bare another night trapped under my mosquito net alone with…whatever it was.  After quite a bit of pleading, Mama DuDu came in and we dozed off.  At about 12:30 a.m. her phone started ringing.  She talked for a few minutes in her local language and then she left the room. I thought nothing of it and dozed off.  A few minutes later I woke up to the sound of her crying outside my room. I got up to check on her and of course being the independent woman that she is she told me to go back to bed as she probably didn’t want me to see her crying (much like myself).  But of course, being the stubborn woman that I am told her I wasn’t going without her.  Once we got back into bed I began my interrogation.  She said that it was her husband (a very devote Muslim) who had called.  Mama DuDu left him a few months ago.  I won’t get into their conversation but it was so great to be able to comfort her, rub her back, and tell her that although it’s not what she believes, I know that God has a plan for her life and that if she trusts in Him all things will work for her good.  I really felt that God used those cockroaches the night before to terrorize me just so she would be sleeping with me that night.  Little did I know what was to come….

So. A few hours later I woke up again with an upset stomach.  It was nothing unbearable but quite uncomfortable.  After about 30 minutes of tossing and turning I realized it was a little worse than only stomach pain.  As I shot out of bed and ran to the bathroom I was a little too late – after getting sick all over myself and the floor I was in tears.  Mama DuDu was right behind me to help. I was embarrassed, frustrated, in pain, and wanting to be home all at the same time.   After vomiting the entire night Willy told me we should probably go to the hospital.  I assured him that it was probably just something I ate and I’d be fine shortly.  When my sickness failed to cease I agreed to go.  We went to a little clinic down the street where they tested my blood for Malaria.  I absolutely knew the test was going to come back negative.  I had been taking my Malaria pills, sleeping with my net, and had been bitten only a few times this entire summer.  But you can probably conclude that since I’m writing about it that it didn’t come back negative…Yep.  The test came back positive for Malaria parasites. 

This is what it says in my Passport Health traveler’s book about Malaria:

“Malaria is the most serious potential infectious risk for travelers to the tropics.  You can get infected with malaria if you are bitten (and it only takes one bite) by the female Anopheles mosquito which typically bites at night.  The malaria parasite quickly invade the liver and then the red blood cells, where they multiply.  When the red blood cells rupture, an attack of malaria occurs, serious illness and/or death can occur.”

I only knew two other things about Malaria. 1. When I left home someone told me Malaria stays with you forever, it never leaves your blood stream. 2. Two of Mama DuDu’s children died of “unknown causes” (probably Malaria). 

Comforting, huh?

I know that this sickness was allowed to me as a test.  I knew what the right was to react were and I knew what the wrong ways to react were.  I didn’t freak out, I didn’t curse God, I didn’t regret coming.  After crying for a few minutes I sought out the only thing that could comfort me – calling my mom.  Just kidding.  The Bible.  After reading a few passages to calm my spirits and taking my newly prescribed medication, I fell asleep.  I slept for about 48 hours straight. 

Thank Jesus I feel much better .  I just checked my e-mail and my mom said that she “has been seeking wise counsel about the situation and thinks I should come home early to fully recover.”  I’ve got 9 days left and I’ll be spending them here.  It’s been 5 days and I really do feel I’ve already recovered.  Even though I feel better, please pray for me.  Please pray for the parasite to completely leave my blood stream.  And just as serious, please pray that the cockroaches stay away from my room and I still haven’t been able to sleep through the night since.

Disaster Prayer Relief

We need your prayers, we need your letter writing, we need your calls, we need your help. This country is so corrupt for doing this and other countries are corrupt for letting it happen.  For the past few days the government has been demolishing houses in Nakawa and Naguru.  These are two areas of town right outside Kampala.  Today we went to Nakawa to help.  The church that I worship from Sunday, just three short days ago, will be torn down tomorrow.  Most of these people have absolutely no where to go.  They few that have family in distant villages have no transportation to get them there.  Their shops, their homes, their churches are gone or soon will be.  If they don’t leave they will beat, they will shoot, they will spray tear-gas.  This is outrageous.

Naguru is completely destroyed.

Most people in Nakawa are trying to quickly take apart their houses so they can sell the scraps or reconstruct a new house elsewhere.

 

The conditions of the area were bad enough before all of this started…

As I began to help this one woman take apart her home (shack) she said to me that we better move fast.  She explained that the woman she bought the land from was getting the police and telling them she was only renting the land and never bought it.  She told me she bought it with her hard earned money.  She built one room out of scrappy plywood and rusted sheet metal with her own hands.  As she made a fist and clentched her teeth she said she was “fighting until the end.” 

A few minutes later the police come and they started s small brawl as they literally pulled back and forth on pieces of the house.

This is Kathryn, as her husband was tearing down their house behind her she cooked the only food they had left for dinner.  After I had packed up a few of their belongings in a potato sack she offered me a big plate of (whatever it was).  Their entire lives were falling apart, they had few possessions to their name, and she was offering me the last of their food.  A moment I will never ever forget.

 Of course I didn’t take their food but I did love on them and hold them as they ate it.  This is Angel, one of Kathryn's daughters, I couldn't stop kissing her.  She smelled exactly like poop and her skin looked very diseased but making her laugh and putting a smile on her face made us both feel better.

 

This picture isn’t much but the story behind it is pretty cool.  As I was walking around taking pictures this one woman started yelling at me to stop.  She said if I took one more picture than she would come and beat me.  After I let her cool down a few hours I went back to her and her sisters to try and talk to them and make peace.   I’m not gonna lie – I was pretty scared. The one woman who said she would beat me didn’t talk to me at all (and was holding a huge hockey stick looking thing).  Her other sisters gave me maize to eat and we joked about them marrying my 15 year old brother (some of them could be his mother).  They were really thankful after I told them what I was doing with my summer –hearing their appreciation felt really good after knowing a few hours before they wanted to cane me.  After a little more coercing the other woman decided she wouldn’t attack.  As I was helping them tear down their outhouse for the timber in the doorway I asked her if she wanted to take a picture herself- and here it is. 

This little girl’s mother abandoned her.  She apparently hoped the neighbors would take her in (to where?).  The entire afternoon I was there she was crawling around peeing in the dirt where she was playing.  Why don’t I help her, you might ask? How? Where can I start? Who do I call? What do I do with all of the other children who need help?

The majority of the residents of this area were hard at work tearing down and emptying out so that all of their belongings don’t get squashed tomorrow.  This man, however, is completely crippled.  He got into an accident a few years ago and has been in his bed ever since.  Tomorrow morning at 8 we are heading to his house to get him out of there.

 Pray. Pray. Pray.  This is dangerous and scary.  Pray for me – for them – for this country.  Let’s see Him do miracles. 

God has blessed America

Disclaimer: I should first probably say I am not anti-America.  I love the United States.  I have come to love it more being here.  We do a lot of things right.  The "land of opportunity" has a whole new dimension to me now. In a lot of ways I can't wait to be back. 

Today, in Uganda, I celebrated America’s independence.  We didn’t have hamburgers, we didn’t have red white and blue streamers, we didn’t even have fireworks.  We did however have what a lot of Americans don’t have today- unity, love, and family.  After a long day of meetings and working at the PDN office we all headed over to Richmond’s mother’s  house.  We came baring hot dogs, chips, and baked beans (the closest things we could find to American food in the Ugandan supermarkets).  After meeting “Mama” and the rest of Richmond’s family we started the fire and the small charcoal stove to get our party started. 

As not one of us 3 young adults who had gathered from the United States were with any of our biological family, we all felt completely taken in by our new, very big, very loud, Ugandan family.  After a big meal that we shared with some of the neighborhood (it seemed to be a feeding the 5,000 with two loaves situation) we all sat around the fire to fellowship.  Arthur, Richmond’s brother, played the guitar while Lois played the African drum.  We sang praise songs until we couldn’t sing until longer.  After worshiping around the fire for a few hours we left with a prayer and a blessing.  It was really refreshing to pledge our allegiance to our Lord and creator instead of a piece of cloth with stars and stripes. 

Katanga Slum

I will never be the same.  I have aged more today than I have in the past 20 years preceding.  Today I visited the Katanga slum outside Kampala.  It is in all purposes of the word a big mess.  I visited 4 different families in the slum.  I sat in their houses, kissed their children, rubbed their feet, listened to their stories, and wiped away their tears.  I came to Uganda for today.  Each of the four families that I met with consisted of a widowed mother and her children.  Their husbands died of AIDS, cancer, and war. Not one family had less than 5 children.  Three out of four of the families had at least one family member with AIDS.  I didn’t need UNICEF to get me those statistics.  I could describe to you for pages about how horrible the conditions of this slum are but since pictures are worth a thousand words I’ll just let them do the talking. 

The slum is smack dab in the middle of a swampland.

This beautiful woman has AIDS and probably won't live much longer in the conditions she is living in. 

 On a lighter note - this man gave me a handful of grasshoppers...crickets?...They were delicious.

These girls put on clean clothes for the first time in their entire lives. 

There is only ONE organization doing (minimal) work in this slum.  Why is the church having parties with bounce houses and cotton candy machines when our brothers and sisters are living like this?

Hoodaha

     I wanted to post and tell you all how much I miss you.  As I have said a few times before –this has been a very very difficult summer. I think that when I’m at home I usually rely on my friends for the majority of my support.  I go to them when I’m sad, or happy, or scared.  I wanted to say how much this trip has made me appreciate every single one of you.  Thank you for your amazing support in the letters you sent with me, and the letters you are sending me through e-mails.  I am praying for you.  Whether you are in Georgia working at a summer camp, in Jersey working at Ritas, in Walhalla working at Itron, as a lifeguard in your country club, getting a great tan in Clemson, or in another country in Africa- I love you. I miss you. I am praying for you.

     Even though this summer has allowed me to better appreciate my friendships, it has really opened my eyes to how important my family is to me.  Now, we’ve definitely had our issues.  Yelling over the dinner table when my parents told me I couldn’t get my bellybutton pierced, bickering over clothes with my sister, arguing in the backseat of our van with my brother on our summer vacation, none of us have been perfect.  However the pain I feel when I think about each one of you is way more than being homesick.  Mom, Dad, Mackenzie, Charles, Gramma, Papa, Shannon…if I think about any one of you in the slightest my eyes fill with tears.  I can not wait until I can be home to hug each and every one of you

Please be praying for Mama Dudu.  I think that everyone who has come into this house (except for me) has Malaria.  Right now, Mama Dudu is on a drip and is extremely weak.  I know it took her feeling close to dead to get her to go to the hospital.  With the exception of my real mother she is the hardest working woman I know and it's killing her to have to lay in bed all day.  I've been working extra hard on cooking, laundry, cleaning, and beating the children (just kidding) because she can't.  It's such a devistating disease becuase it's so easily  prevented with some really cheap prescriptions.

Nakupenda

I think that if you are a Christian you should always be under some level of spiritual warfare. This however, is something I have never experienced.  Something that I have really come to grasp in the past year is that although Jeremiah 29:11 is comforting – the devil has a plan for us too.  Even though I am sealed with the Holy Spirit, the devil wants nothing more than to try and break that seal.  Jesus is present on this mission.  The devil is present on this mission.  There is a darkness that is difficult to explain and scary to feel.  

My (semi) shallow prayers a few months ago of “Please, God let me pass the Praxis exam” have now been replaced with “Please, God deliver these people from sacrificing their children and animals to the devil.”  This is a painful but beautiful struggle.  Which I can’t help but think is exactly the story of the cross – painful but beautiful.  I think I am no longer merely admiring the cross, but taking up my own. 

This past week we have visited prisons, schools, done door to door evangelism, and held open air crusades.  The 5 minute presentation of the gospel and alter call is very difficult for me to appreciate sometimes as in my past few posts I’ve talked about really needing the relationship aspect of sharing your faith.  Even when pastors come to FCA I secretly pray they don’t have some kind of “If you want to accept Jesus then repeat after me” at the end of their time talking.  I really don’t know why but I’ve always felt very uncomfortable by it.

The devil fills my mind with evil thoughts like, “They are just coming forward because they think they will get something at the end of this” or “They probably ‘accept Jesus’ every time there is an alter call.”  After seeking the Lord’s guidance in this I’ve realized that all that I’d been doing is judging others.  I’ve realized that God can use me walking into one woman’s mud hut for a few minutes to share with her what Jesus is to me to change people for eternity. 

Here’s two cool stories.

As a result of an invitation one man got to come to the crusade during door to door he gave his life to Christ on Thursday.  He spoke with Pastor Ambrose and told him that his family is heavily involved with witchcraft.  That he was given the name “Calogo” which literally means “witch” in his local language.  He said at night he sleeps only with a sheet that he and his family had given up to the devil.  It was some kind of evil practice (like sleeping wrapped up in evil spirits).  Today he came to church and we prayed over him and gave him a new name, David.  We took up an offering for a new bed sheet and tonight at the crusade we will anoint it with the Holy Spirit and pray a blessing over it. 

On Tuesday before the crusade we were doing door to door (or sheet to sheet as most of them use bedroom sheets for their front doors). We began talking to a group of women and two of them embraced Christ into their lives as result of hearing the gospel for the first time.  (PRAISE GOD!)  As we began questioning one of the women about her (very obvious) pregnancy she told us that she had been pregnant for the past 12 months.  We understood that this was not medically possible so we told her we’d be back for her later that day to take her to a clinic.  We figured that she either miscarried late into the pregnancy and her body was just not releasing the baby or it was some kind of tumor.  After getting her first ultrasound ever the doctors told us that she was 39 weeks pregnant.  The reason why she thought she’d been pregnant for 12 months is that she most likely miscarried before this pregnancy and in her mind it was one very long pregnancy.  As it’s been hard to leave the ones who I’ve prayed the sinners prayer with the past few days it was great to continuing caring for this women long after she uttered the words “Amen.”  

Nkwagala

I don’t even know where to begin it’s been so long.  I’ve taken my two week break from teaching and am doing our mission work.  As much as I love those children I really need a break from school.  I’ve been trying to serve as teacher –to children who struggle with English, a disciplinarian- to children who have never had one, nurse –to children with AIDS, as a mother – to children who have never had one, and as a lunch lady – to children who have no food or money.  That can really take a toll on your body.  (Mom –I wish you were here to rub my back!) 

 Because of our dilapidated facilities at school the students are placed with people in the community (kind of like foster parents) during the night.  If you think the foster system in America has some bad stories - it’s nothing compared to these. A few weeks ago I typed up three different letters to the guardians of my students.  One letter was for the students that have been really struggling.  One letter was for the students who are doing okay.  And one letter was for the students that are really excelling in my class.  I’ve been working primarily with students ages 9-13.  As I’m trying to teach them things like participles, regular and irregular verbs (and how to conjugate them), some of them can barely write their name.  I gave each student who are really struggling a date and time for their guardians to come and meet with me so that we could talk about how we both could better suit the student’s needs.  The second letter to the students who are doing average was to encourage their guardians to support them in their academic progress.  The third letter to the few students who are excelling and performing strongly was what I was most excited about.  I planned a little banquet last Friday to give them all an award and to speak about each one of their strengths in front of their guardians.  Day after day not one of the parents with struggling students showed up.  On Friday I sat in our “auditorium” with my long written up speech and awards in my hand –completely alone. It is frustrating to be trying so hard to help these students and have no support from anyone else.  Not the other teachers, not the head master, not their family. 

 After school I got to visit the home of Musimbi,of one of my brightest P4 (primary 4, kind of like 4th grade) students.  The place he calls home is a small mud hut with a straw roof.  It’s the same exact thing as what the majority of the people in Uganda live in.  As we came closer to their hut I saw a tiny old woman sitting just inside the front door.  She couldn’t speak any English and I can only speak a little Samia (Swahili and Luganda).  As I looked into her eyes, she couldn’t look into mine. She was completely blind.  Her bright white eyes were not the only thing holding her back from properly taking care of this little boy. She had chiggers and literally couldn’t walk.  From years and years of malnutrition and neglect she had to crawl around on her hands dragging her body on the ground. No wonder no one came to any of my schedule meetings. As I peered into the small mud hut that served as their kitchen, bedroom, and living room, tears filled my eyes as my own room flashed into my mind.  My own room that is bigger than this whole hut is.  My own room that sits empty except for a few weeks during the year when I’m home for break.  My own room that has electric lights, internet, and cable.  Now I know that the whole world can not afford the American dream. However, the good thing is that there is another dream...and it’s not Martin Luther King’s.  It’s the Lords dream.  His desire.  His command.  For us to live among the poor.  Why is my room empty when there are so many people who need a place to sleep tonight? 

What can I do to help her? What can I do to help Musimbi?  What can I do to help the other 132 children at school?  What can I do to help poverty?

I know what I don’t need to do.  I know what hasn’t worked.  It’s not an trading of goods.  Not even an exchange of service.  It’s not sending a few nonperishable food items to the food bank, it’s not sending them my old clothes that have gone out of style, or even a few sweaty days of building a playground at a school in a third world country.  They get what I give them, and I get a good feeling and maybe even something nice to put on my college resume.  Now sometimes this can be great and both are momentarily satisfying but unfortunately there is no revolution, no transformation, no change.  It’s a dangerous process that won’t stop.  The rich need to be unchained from macro-charity and distant contributions.  That only provides us with an excuse for our apathetic life styles of good intentions but rob us from the gift of relationships.  

This is not a “you need to teach a man to fish instead of just handing them out” speech because believe me - I know sometimes people just need to be handed a fish.  However, when that man is eating the fish I gave him for dinner, I want to get to know him over dinner while he’s eating it.  

I know Jesus intended for us to have relationships with those in poverty.  He says, the poor will always be among (with) us.  Not just in a far away place like Africa, not just in Mexico, not just in Haiti – but among you.  Am I living among poor?  How often do I feed them, take them to the movies, love on them? I could always make the excuse, “I’m in college! I am poor myself!” But I know this isn’t just not being able to eat out every single night of the week, or not being able to go on the cruise for spring break.  I’m talking about the - I don’t have a home, or food, or shoes poor.  How many homeless friends do I have?  Because guess who was homeless - Jesus.

Mzungu

I’m becoming more and more aware that this isn’t a one week – let’s stay in a hotel, be shuffled around on a bus, eat some yummy ethnic food, play with some cute kids – mission trip.  Please don’t get me wrong, I’ve been on those before and loved it.  I think that through Christ working in us we could all do a lot on a one week mission trip – or even a one day mission trip.  My point is this is getting really difficult.  The wonderfully safe and comfortable crutches of my own culture have been torn out from under me and it’s hard to walk (let alone run) without them.  I don’t have my cell phone to text my friends all day, I don’t have my delicious chocolate frosty from Wendy’s, I don’t have my warm bubble bath, I don’t even have my family.  Instead they’ve been replaced by cold showers from a jerrycan, dirt so thick under my fingernails there’s no point in trying, rice, rice, rice, and more rice, a hole that I have to squat over, really lazy and frustrating co-workers at school, and 1 and a half minute Skype sessions with home until the internet switches off.

Although it’s difficult at times, I wouldn’t trade this for anything.  It’s growing me more than anything else has before.  It was really hard to be dependent on God alone when I had so many other things in my life that could bring me peace and comfort.  Here – there’s nothing else but Him and His Living Word to turn to.  It’s exactly what I needed.

This is a picture of the “classroom” I teach in.  I’ve moved from the younger kids up to solely teaching kids that are 10-15.  Something I hadn’t experienced before and definitely wasn’t expecting.  The wall and roof are made of rusted metal sheets.  There are three different classrooms in one open section – walled in on only one side.  It’s difficult enough for me to concentrate on teaching as there are two teachers only five feet away from me teaching their own lesson.  You can only imagine how difficult it is for the students to pay attention.  Before we got here, there were absolutely no books for them to read (thanks Mom!) I still can’t figure out what they did during their “library” period a few weeks ago.  Instead of the Smartboards that I’ve been used to in my classrooms -they have one small chalkboard per class.  And by chalkboard I mean a piece of wood with a few holes on it painted black.  (Thanks so much for the colored chalk Mrs. D- it makes both teaching and learning a lot more fun!!) Instead of the individual desks decorated with the nameplates that most American students are blessed with – these students have two rows of wooden desks of and two rows of benches per classroom.  There isn’t enough room for more than four students on a row and we have usually seven per row unless someone is absent.  This makes the two sitting on the end have to write on their knees.  Something I’ve definitely never had to do during my 14 years of schooling so far.  Having only the resources that I brought with me has made teaching very frustrating.  I keep thinking of all the teachers I’ve heard complain about lacking resources in their own classroom.  Ha.  It’s called for a lot of creativity and inventiveness – trying to pull activities to compliment my lessons out of thin air. 

During the 7:00 a.m. – 5:00 p.m. school day we have a 30 minute break (in which we teachers “take” tea) and then a one and a half hour lunch break.   The first few days I was completely shocked to see most of  the students eat absolutely nothing throughout the entire day.  There are a few students who go home during lunch (I tell myself they go home to eat) and a few students who bring 100 shillings (which is about 5₵) to get a few sticks of cassava from the street. 

It is really painful seeing every day the dilapidated condition of my school, the horrible skin conditions of the neighborhood villagehood children, most of the people I’m living with suffering from either typhoid or malaria.   Sometimes helping hurts.  I know exactly what Mother Teresa (I think it was her) meant when she said, “Following Jesus is not easy.  Love until it hurts, and then love some more.”   

On a completely different note – everyone here is Muslim - the family that I’m living with, all of our neighbors, a lot of the people that come and visit here at the house.  Every few hours there is a loud call to prayer that plays throughout the entire town.  I want nothing more than to see Mama DuDu and her children to come to know Jesus.  Please be praying that I can show His love from the moment I get up to the moment I fall asleep.  I absolutely love the people I’ve met here. Sure I have acquaintances, but I also have friends, I also have family –right here in Busia.  It’s an amazing thing when people in poverty aren’t any longer a missions project but instead they become legitimate friends and family whom we eat with, dance with, laugh with, and even cry with. 

It’s so hard to post. My days are so full of teaching, learning, washing, cleaning, loving, playing… I’m loving every single second of it. (Well..maybe not the cold showers from a 2 liter bottle).  It's quite difficult to take just a few minutes out of my day and sit down on the computer. Since today is Sunday I was set on getting another post up.  Just as I was about to start Emma (one of the cousins of the family I’m staying with) saw me heading to my room and said “Malaika, I miss you.”  I’m not even sure why he said that because I’ve been with him all morning at church.  So of course I couldn’t go to my room and get on my computer.  I couldn’t resist his puppy dog eyes and beaming white teeth that he was smiling at me with.  They’re such a beautiful contrast against his deep black skin.  So after a few hours of playing pick-up-sticks, dominos, and a matching game with him and Gift, I’ve finally stolen a few minutes to write. 

In fact as I write, I can hear Somania from next door calling “Malaika! Malaika!” He is tempting me to come play with him and the other neighbor children.  That’s what everyone here calls me by the way.  It means “Angel” in Swahili (the closest translation to my name you can get). 

Anyway, if you only read one post of my entire summer – read this one!

I need your help.

 I have completely fallen in love.  As you can imagine I adore every single one of the children that I get just a glimpse of here in Uganda. However, one little boy in particular not only melts my heart but has completely taken hold of my spirit.  I couldn’t tell you why it is he who has broken me above all of the others.  He didn’t do anything particularly cute like some of the others who immediately came up to me and hugged me or kissed me on the cheek.  He doesn’t look he is wasting away at the bones – so it’s not my pity he’s got.   He can’t even speak any English so he hasn’t wooed me with his words. However, I know for certain that the Lord laid him on my heart in a different way than the other children here.

His name is Ason (full name Isimidiason) he is 6 years old.  The primary reason that I’m writing about him is because he has a horrible skin disease.  It’s not mumps or measles (I wish it were because I’m vaccinated against both).  It’s a horribly contagious infection that is a result of years of living and bathing in soiled filth.  When I asked Willy (who is the pastor I’m here with by the way) if we could do anything about it he quickly told me to stay away from the boy.  I know for certain that Willy loves children as much as I do but he also cares for my own health and safety. He told me that it was dangerous for me to have even touched him (little does he know I held him in my arms for about an hour caressing all over his bumpy arms and back.  Continuously repeating “Nkwagala Nyo – I love you – Nkwagala Nyo – I love you” back and forth to each other.)

These pictures do not do his poor skin justice - but here's an idea.

 I told him that I basically couldn’t not touch him as he is my favorite child among the hundreds I have hugged and kissed all over since I have been here.  After a long debate over our dinner of rice, beans, mango, and plantains covered in groundnut sauce, I tried to end the dispute with a statement that he couldn’t continue to argue with of “I’ll pray about it.” (Meaning, I’m going to touch him again. Sorry). Willy took my statement literally and that’s just what we did.  Mid dinner we took about a 20 minute break to pray for healing and protection over Ason. “But the tongue of the wise brings healing.” – Proverbs 12:18

Now I have done a lot of reading about healing this past week and am reminded of just how amazing Jesus was while on this Earth for such a short time.  Here is just one of the many beautiful passages where we can see God’s goodness on this Earth as He healed through the work of Jesus. 

Luke 17:11-19

Jesus Heals Ten Men With Leprosy

 11 Now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus traveled along the border

between Samaria and Galilee (or how I like to read it, along the

border between Uganda and Kenya.) 12 As he was going into a village,

ten men who had leprosy[a] met him. They stood at a distance 13 and

called out in a loud voice, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!”

 14 When he saw them, he said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.”

And as they went, they were cleansed.

  I prayed and prayed (and continue to pray) to see miracles here in Uganda this summer.  I put all my faith in Him so that He may move in might ways.  I think that as a Christian, particularly a Christian living in America, it’s really easy to become stagnant in your faith.  Just kind of playing the game where “faith” consists of church on Sunday morning and praying before dinner.  I’ve definitely done it.   Seeing the faith of these Ugandans is so inspiring.  The majority of them have very little education, very little food, very little clothes, very very little money, but yet they completely understand that they need nothing in this world.  Although in this life they have little, they have what’s important.  They have faith.  Faith that the Holy Spirit is alive in them and that God will do great things in their lives.  Like them, I will not be stagnant in my faith.  I’m choosing not to be an unbelieving believer. 

And this is where you come in.  I want to see Ason healed.  I want his skin to be rid of the bumps, from the open wounds, from the disease.  I want his skin to be clear, smooth, and vibrant.  Please pray for this beautiful little boy.  This boy’s family (and all of our neighbors for that matter)are Muslim.  I’ve been in quite a few debates with the boys next door over the Islamic religion.  I’ve been sure to tell his family and all of our neighbors (through translation) that I’m praying not only to God to heal him, but to my Lord Jesus Christ who healed so many when he was here (to the Jesus that they don’t believe in).   Pray for Ason.  A boy you will never meet, a boy who is 7,000 miles away from you.  I fully believe that God will do all that he has promised.  I want to in inherit His promises.  So I’m asking for them – I hope you do too.

Jeremiah 33:6

Nevertheless, I will bring health and healing to it: I will heal my people and will let them enjoy abundant peace and security.

I just want to thank my family and my friends again for all of their love and support!  All that you gave me for my trip has been such a blessing here!  Gramma – as for the 5 flashlights you gave me – I don’t know what we would do with out them.  All 8 of us living in this house would have to share one single (very small) fire lantern.  Since the power goes out almost every night and it gets dark at 6:30 that would be almost unbearable.  Blake - (if you're reading this) I just started your book.  :)

I absolutely love it here.  Although, it's actually a lot harder than I expected.  From not being accustomed to deal with no power, no running water (haven't taken a shower in 3 days- yumm), this huge language barrier (which makes it difficult to teach), a diet which I'm not used to (nastiness), living with Tiana and Willy (both of whom I adore but living with anyone is difficult at times). Please just pray that I have the discernment and strength to deal with these situations like Jesus would.  Sometimes I just want to throw my hands up, cry in my others arms, and eat some chocolate.  I know that AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I just saw a mouse! It ran accross the floor into my backpack. If that doesn't emphasize what I just wrote, I don't know what does. Despite my daily struggles- I am so happy here. My days are just so filled with joy from these beautiful children that I get to spend my time with.  Observing my own spiritual maturity as I depend on my heavenly father alone for support is exciting.  Well, I’m off to prepare my 6 English lessons for tomorrow.  (Teaching 1^st – 6^th grade English!) More on that later. 

-Remind me to get a mouse trap. :(

Finally Here!

Sorry if nothing in this post makes sense.  It’s really late and I’ve had a long day loving all over some amazing Ugandan children but so much has happened and I have to start filling you in.

One thing I prayed over this trip is that we would see miracles. Many times in the New Testament Jesus told the people around him that he couldn’t perform miracles because they had no faith. (Matthew 13:58 – “And he did not do many miracles there because of their lack of faith.) I wanted to show my faith so that God could show his faithfulness.  I wanted him to make the possible out of the humanly impossible. 

The miracles started before we barely began.  Once Willy and Tiana and I all got together in Chicago we almost missed our first flight.  We each had to check in 5 pieces of luggage (most of which we overweight) so it took forever.  Also, almost every one of our carry-on bags were checked by security.  As we were getting really close to missing the flight I told Tiana and Willy that they needed to stay with security while I ran ahead to stop the plane from leaving.  I sprinted towards our terminal and as the sweat poured off I begged the flight attendants to wait just a few more minutes before shutting the gate to the plane.  They said if I had come just one minute later it would have been closed.  I was so thankful for the Lord’s grace.  He has such a sense of humor.  I knew from that moment this summer is going filled with instances in which I have to trust the Lord to get me through. 

The second miracle we experienced was once we got off of our last flight.  As we waited by the baggage claim to get our 20 pieces of luggage filled with bibles, expensive sound equipment for the open air crusades, as well as all of our clothes, medicine, toiletries, etc. for the summer – we saw nothing.  Not one of our bags came around.  I immediately knew this is another one of those times when God just wants to get some glory. It’s so comforting to be able to rely on the Lord.  The verse we kept repeating to each other when we got worried about our luggage for the following day is Romans 8:28 -  “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him who have been called according to his purpose.” After a long two days in Kampala we finally got the call that our luggage had came!  Safe and sound we got it all back.

Although testing of the faith is challenging – it feels so good when it comes naturally, abundantly, and is that much stronger because of those times when you have to use it.  

Again, I’ve got lots to tell but no brainpower to do it. 



  

This picture kind of sums up the trip so far.  Yes, the stains all over my shirt are this beautiful baby’s pee. 

The pee symbolizes the cold showers in a basin.  Our lost luggage.  My cold (I have a horrible cough and horrible runny nose). Being dirty before I get of the door.  The frustration of the language barrier.  Missing my family. Having to eat some disgusting food in order to be polite. 

However the baby symbolizes the beauty of this trip.  The wonderful friends I made a few days ago that have already become my family.  The bright eyes and stunning smiles of all of the children in this village. The shouting of “mzungu” wherever I walk.   Seeing the Lord work in funny ways. The clear crisp Ugandan air.  Teaching new games.  My walks to the market with Mama DuDu.  Playing in the yard with Asha and Shamirah, making them repeat funny words in English.  Helping Mariam wash all of our clothes by hand.  Singing new songs. 

This summer is awesome.  Even if it all ended now and I had to go back to school, it would be the best summer of my life.  I’d be happy with the experience.  However, I’ve only been here for three days and have about 78 left.  I am SO excited.