There is the old saying, “Be careful what you wish for,” but I think it’s more fitting to say, “Be careful what you pray for.” I’m sitting in my little prayer room which is sparse except for a yoga mat, a map of Uganda, a camping chair, a concrete floor strewn with tissues. But this is my space. My space to meet with God. A few weeks ago I prayed a prayer, “Lord I want to be humble. I want to be closer to you.” What has followed has been, so far, one of my more difficult experiences here
Salome is a beautiful girl I met two years ago in the slum. When I met her, she had such a sweet, sad smile. A smile full of regret. But there was a tenderness in her I was drawn to. She was pregnant with yet another man’s baby. A man who paid and left. I remember how brave she looked, and how amazed I was that she had not aborted this baby, unlike so many others I’d met. Just another mouth they can’t afford to feed. Just another one they can’t bear to see starving. Salome’s face haunted me. Always
“…to comfort all who mourn and provide for those who grieve in Zion– to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.” -Isaiah 61:3 This is our mission. This is why we began. To bring healing to broken hearts, love to those who were not loved, and comfort to those who had been devastated by war. As this past year comes to an end, and
(Barbara, one of our Congolese girls who God has radically transformed!) (me holding a very frightened baby ) I’m going to be really honest with you. If you haven’t already figured it out already, being a missionary here in northern Uganda is not easy. You wake up to goats crying in the morning, a rooster crowing who you secretly long to murder, and your stomach hasn’t been “quite right” for about 11 months now. You deal with the disappointments of being betrayed by people you thought you could trust and the politics of church and culture that can be
Sometimes we wonder why we do what we do. Things get tough. Doing it on your own with little to affirm you. Life is not perfect in a family of eighteen where fights can start over who left the bicycle out or who drank the last of the water. Sometimes it seems the problems outweigh the solutions, the failures outnumber the successes and the thought of losing even one of these lives you’ve poured the last six months into…seems crushing. Times like this you need a talisman. You need a reason. A reason to stay and keep fighting against the
It’s so hot in Gulu that I feel I might actually be losing brain functionality. Dry season. In Africa. Winds like the Santa Ana’s sweep through the town scattering dust into people’s eyes. Nothing like a hot Thanksgiving in November to make you feel normal. It’s dry and it’s dusty, but it doesn’t hinder our progress. We have a lot to be thankful for. In just the last four months… *We’ve taken in 11 girls and 13 children from the camps into a home where they receive safety, love, a family, food, counseling, discipleship, life skills, parenting skills, medical care,
It’s amazing what a single month can do to change a person’s life. A month ago they did not smile. Now, everywhere the sound of laughter and children showing off their teeth. The same children who a month ago would cry in their mother’s lap. Now they play. Like normal kids. Like our kids. They build blocks and race cars. A month ago they did not dream. Now they sit around in circles and talk about going back to school or learning to do catering to continue the baking skills they’ve learned at our house (not from me, I know
Writer. Missionary Coach. Recovering perfectionist. I want you to know that you are loved and already good enough. I am about helping people move from brokenness into wholeness. Together, we'll make a more beautiful world.