love. sacrifice. change.

God's sovereignty.  His plans.  His call.  our blessing. our responsibility.

i was talking with 16 year old david today about what america is like, jobs, homes, food, etc, and was explaining to him that for all america and the people there are blessed with, comes much responsibility--to God. the account of our deeds, where our money went: starbucks or feeding the hungry.  a big screen t.v. or a chance at a quality education for an orphaned child, a flashy car, or shoes for the ones with scarred feet. i am blessed beyond measure to myself know very giving people.  to have people in my life that see the needs of others and reach out to meet those needs.

visiting orphans is an incredible organization.  they live out james 1:27, and through short term mission trips, a passion is ignited in the hearts of many people who return to serve ministries that captured their hearts: that's how i came to serve at return ministries here in kampala, uganda.

on september 13th, a church team from california is coming to paint and help beautify the home these children are staying in.  i remember less than a month ago, my comfortable life in the states, not thinking twice about pretty walls and the nice floors of my home, and reflect on my surroundings then compared to where these children live now.  one day, they will have a mansion on streets of gold.  one day they will be clothed with fine linen of purple, but until then, there are those that are stepping in to make where they are now a little prettier. i am posting some "in progress" pictures, as the walls are being primed prior to this teams arrival who will paint and buy new sheets and bed blankets.  i am so filled with joy to think of the new rooms being revealed to my favorites, all 15. :)

if you click on the link to return ministries' site, you'll notice that pastor samuel has an incredible plan for a self-sustaining ministry that will also serve the community.  a large part of this plan is buying land to build and serve on (they are renting now, and need MUCH more space).  i've borrowed my dear friend autumn kerr's fundraising idea (you can read her story here):
if you donate at least $10 (paypal donate button is on the right side of my blog screen and a bit down), then after the rooms are painted, an artist who works with return is going to paint a tree in the girl's and boy's rooms and you will have your very own leaf on those trees--we can put your name and a bible verse too if you'd like, or a word of life: beauty, redeemed, loved, heirs, etc :)
this money will go to help purchase the land so they can began to become self-sustaining with farming, an adequate sized building to serve the community, and later, the building of a guest house to accommodate visiting teams and other groups.

please consider giving up two starbucks, one chic-fil-a visit, etc and help change these children's lives and also the future of kampala as a whole.

now: ("after" pictures to come in a few weeks! :) )

the girls' room

the boys' room

main living area/food serving area

food storage area:

change lives. sacrifice.  love.

a glimpse into the lives you are changing: 

and a bit more of what you are changing:

to quote c.s. lewis:

if you read history, you will find that the christians who did the most for the present world were precisely those who thought most of the next.  it is since christians have largely ceased to think of the other world that they have become so ineffective in this.

***don't let the dirt fool you, this is Holy ground.

lift up your eyes!

there is a joy that lives through hunger. poverty. death. abandonment.  He is among the poor.  He is among those far away.  He is close to the heavy laden. a child that He welcomes--no, CALLS to His lap.  a tear that He wipes away, and eyes that He appears before.  His majesty dances around them.  His holiness dwells among them.  His splendor clothes them.  the work now.  they will find rest in Him.

through corruption of a government that tells them they will never find relief.  oppression that denies them help. He calls us forth.  He calls you forth.  they grow bigger as these frames grow smaller. one day, this will be made right.  one day, He will set everything in order, heal, restore, hand out measures.

there are many stories.  many broken hearts. healed hearts. healing hearts. eyes that have shed many tears.  eyes that have seen many tragedies.  eyes that have also beheld the Glory of God. hands that have reached with no response in the middle of the night.  hands that are now held my mine. by yours. they are just children.  they are all His children.

they color:

they make two trips a day to fetch water to boil to drink or cook with

what was your 6 year old doing this morning?  today at lunch? 

 they are family. sisters. brothers. not orphans. they are a family.  there is love. here is love.

there is a place for them.  in hearts.  in His Kingdom.  here. 

10 girls that share a room.  5 boys that share a room. bunk beds squeezed in for all heads to have a place to rest. lights go dim. they giggle.  they laugh.  they are family.  

i have seen the Glory of God as well.  and It rest here.  i have felt the breeze of His Holy Spirit, when i walked with them.  i have seen His eyes, when i looked into theirs. 

 Shake off your dust;
   rise up, sit enthroned, Jerusalem.
Free yourself from the chains on your neck,
   Daughter Zion, now a captive.
 For this is what the LORD says:
   “You were sold for nothing,
   and without money you will be redeemed.”
--isaiah 52:2-3

This is why it is said:
   “Wake up, sleeper,
   rise from the dead,
   and Christ will shine on you.”

--ephesians 5:14

He shines in this place. on them. 

His ways are higher than my own: isaiah 55

just as the heavens are higher than the earth, My ways are higher than your ways:

we visited an orphanage in ethiopia on our next to last day, which is not unusual from any other of our days here, except for the fact that this orphanage, this day, was the cataylst for a righteous anger that rose up in me.  an orphanage run by nuns, all of whom have well meaning intentions and giving hearts--i do not doubt this; but it is a matter of practicality: resources/money.  the stench of urine, feces, and vomit (children are always sick) was overpowering in some rooms.  one child sitting on a children’s potty in the midst of a 12 ft x 12 ft room filled with no less than 15 cribs, for 10 minutes, while all strength available in his weak body was used to hold himself up. the sister in the room pointed to him and said, “sick. sick”.  this precious 1 year old son of our God had a gaping wound below his mouth, masking his chin as being nothing more than a mess of exposed tissue festering with infection and disease.  i thought of the states, and my friends, my family, people i don’t even know: that would never happen there, go untreated, left for the helpless babe to suffer in pain every minute, of every hour of every day. his eyes glassed over from dehydration from sickness. loneliness screamed at me from them, and i embraced him in my hands.  i was given a cup of pedialyte-like drink to give him, and i held it with one hand as i embraced his head in my other hand. holding him close to me, the odor of vomit soaked into his clothing, his skin.  i shed tears, and could do nothing more than sing “Jesus loves you” over him. 

i walked down to another room, slightly larger, but with many more cribs.  no less than 35 cribs packed into a room that was perhaps 15 ft x 15 ft.  this room was for the infants, newborns, and children with special needs and bedridden.  the first greeting i received when entering this room was from my friend, amanda, who was sitting next to a pretty girl that i would assume was 3 or 4 years old.  i greeted her, and will refer to her as “e” for this. she had one of the worst cases of hydrocephalus i’ve seen: in person, on t.v. in photographs.  her head was filled with fluid, skull expanded to the size of beach ball. making the presentation of this condition all the more painful to observe was that her body was grossly undeveloped, with her body alone weighing most likely no more than 15 pounds,  i would guess that her head weighed twice this. my original thought of seeing her and believing she was 3/4 years old was shattered when my friend amanda told me she was 18.  the tears that had already gathered in my eyes and began streaming down my cheeks soon pooled into a steady flow as my heart raced, and mind grasped for an understanding.  a combination of the last two weeks of visiting orphanages with anywhere from 80-600 children, the constant site of children with no shoes, open sores, malnourished bellies, iron deficiencies evident by looking into their eyes and seeing solid yellow where we would see whites of ours, babies sleeping two to a crib, children sleeping 2 to a twin bed, some on the floor, wearing clothes so tattered and worn that we (americans) would choose a trash can for them as opposed to donating to a thrifts store, all led to my pleading heart begging for answers, my mind lacking understanding. knowing that His thoughts are not my thoughts, and neither His ways are my ways, just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so His ways higher than mine (isaiah 55) i still wanted to understand, comprehend why there is still orphans, these conditions that they must live in. “christianity is the most populous religion in the world”, i muffled screamed, continuing on “so why is this still happening?!  why are they still here?!”.  i sat next to “e”, not knowing what to say, what to do, but lay my hand on her, stroke her arm, and quote jeremiah 29 over her. i prayed this over her.  i spoke the truth of solomon’s words over her, “you are all together beautiful my darling, there is no spot in thee”.  i spoke truth over her, that she has a Heavenly Father, an Abba Father, that loves her, that is preparing a place for her.  i told her that one day, when Jesus embraces her in His arms, He will give her a perfect body, that will live in a mansion on streets of gold.  that she is being called to a land of milk and honey.  the pressure from the fluid around her brain had caused her to become blind, and i saw her eyes darting around, moving rapidly as i spoke to her, as i prayed truth over her.  i prayed that the Holy Spirit would take the words He spoke through me, and translate them to what she could understand as they reached her precious ears. 

after i left “e”’s side, i cradled babies in my arms, babies with bones protruding from their bodies, with sunken in cheeks and yellowed eyes.  these babies which lied in cribs lined up side by side, row by row, too many for my two arms to hold. they lied there, with  blankets that reeked of urine covering their tiny bodies, pillows beside their heads, with bottles propped on them.  too many babies, too few sisters to feed them, too few of us too. to be fed a bottle and not held.  too small to even hold the bottle with their own hands, yet, not even anyone to hold them.  we tried desperately to hold every precious baby, to kiss each cheek, to rub each head, to stroke each arm.  all i could do is pray and speak scripture over them.  my words are so inadequate.  His are so powerful.  i spoke truth over them of redemption, of how they will one day be sitting at the feet of Jesus, and i will be in the back, i told them of how the last will be first and first will be last, how the poor will be rich, and sick made well. 

Lord, these are Your arms, Your hands, Your words, i drink them like milk and honey-they are so sweet to me and i will speak them over Your orphans.  these are Your orphans, Your children, Your heirs.  Your ways are higher than mine, and i do not understand, but my faith in You tells me that You have them perfectly in Your hands and You have a place for them at Your feet. 

i walked through a garden today and i thought of You

i walked through a garden today and i thought of You.

we arrived at Noel orphanage and were greeted by hundreds of children from 4/5 years old to teenagers before we all could get off the bus. hands were grabbed, cheeks kissed, and arms wrapped around necks.  we walked a hundred feet and were greeted by walking toddlers spilling out of rooms. they were quickly swept up and held in our arms and snuggled to our chests, heads buried in our necks and their heads and cheeks rubbed by our embracing hands. 

too soon after this, we were pulled away to take a tour, leaving the snuggles, embraces, hands and arms behind. 

on the tour, i walked through a garden, and thought of You. my heart breaking for them.  their hunger, their sickness, their "orphan" status. air escaped me and my heart sank. hearing nothing, but Your presence swirling around us. 

how much more Lord must Your heart break for us!  

Your prayed for me until blood as sweat dripped from your brow.  You prayed if it were Lord's will, this cup shall pass from You, but You drank from it and my sins like blood soon poured down Your broken body. 

today, i hugged orphans of the world, i kissed dirty cheeks, and had slobbery ones on mine, i held many tiny hands, hugged many necks, carried babies, and cried as we all sang "Hosanna" together. and i thought of You.