what peter and solomon were talking about

“do not let your adorning be the external--the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear, but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God’s sight is very precious”--1 peter 3:3-4

i was always one who had somewhat “excessive energy” and pleaded with God to grow me in that quiet and gentle spirit peter wrote about. but, it never really came; at least not in my own self evaluation. now i sit here, approximately 4 days before i head back to the states, and the meaning of “quite and gentle spirit” has drastically changed. a friend, once trying to encourage me said “it doesn’t say quiet mouth!” :)  

so, i sit here, about to leave my african residence of 3+ months and feel compelled in my spirit, my heart, to interpret it this way: a quiet trust, that no matter what circumstance, situation, trials, that God’s hand is upon it.  better is trial and fiery circumstance with God’s hand upon it than prosperous times with His hand far away. it’s the trust that quietens the spirit. it’s the unwavering devotion, despite circumstance, that brings gentleness. the past 3+ months were not at all what i had envisioned, what i thought they would look like, feel like. God had different plans, and His are far greater.  i have learned much more, i know, than if it had been as i planned it. 

as i prepared to come here, the months leading up to this, i began really accepting the temporariness of life, and more recently, the passing vapor that it really is, in the scheme of the universe, of all eternity. but, over the past few months, through a ugly bought with malaria, the very real possibility i was going to lose my right lower arm due to a puff adder (viper) bite, and having my only retreat, only confidence, only refuge of conversation be with the Lord, it became all the more solidified that “it doesn’t matter”.  i remember, the night my arm was bad, bad, bad, bad: hand swollen almost like a boxing glove, forearm swollen, all red, red, red, and beginning to turn blueish/blackish around the bite--and that was spreading, feeling so much pain, it seemed as if every bone in my hand was broken, praying, praying, praying for relief, but acknowledging in the most sincere peace, that if He wants to take it (my lower arm), that i was okay with that, i knew i would get it back one day anyway. and i was peaceful about it. i even kind of laughed at all the times i said i wished i was ambidextrous. i was at peace, keeping my lower right arm or not, it didn’t matter--in the whole picture of life, creation, it didn’t matter.  the years i dwell on this earth, are but passing moments compared to eternity. i also think about all the women i see here. sick, single, dying, children soon to be orphans. and i think about the frivolous worries i had before. there are so many things i want to say to the Lord when i stand before Him, well, there were, but none of them were ever “why did You...” or “why didn’t You...” because it doesn’t matter.  death is but the means in which we can finally be united in His perfect Kingdom, and living this life with both arms, children, family, “nice” things, comfort, etc really doesn’t matter then, it all becomes vapor too. i think about these women, their fear, the one that asked me if i was going to die, and my answer of “absolutely” wanting to be sympathetic to her, but also offer counsel in a way that showed her, told her, that death is “absent with the body is present with the Lord”--that there is no fear in death! (there is a previous post about this encounter...not sure which one it is...think it’s the one about the home visits :) ).  by the same measure of wanting her to know that there is no fear in death, we must also realize that there is no fear in our living--a life that does not look like what we thought and/or wanted. i believe that is a big difference between them and us (us=americans), they fear dying, we fear living a life that is not like what we wanted or planned or hoped for. 

i think about those who are so important in my life, the feeding into each other’s lives, and how much joy it brings me to see them receive blessings. how i’d rather see them blessed tremendously than be blessed myself.  how i’d rather see them brought peace even if it means my turmoil, hurt or pain. there is far greater joy and privilege for me to see them in such joy, receiving blessings, than for me to receive any direct blessings myself.  my joy is in seeing them blessed and with peace.  the suffering here, that is evident when i have done home visits, further only drives home that nothing really matters, but what happens after we draw our final breath. what we do for the Kingdom, for lost and/or suffering souls, that is what matters.  our legacy, our story is not about what filled our houses, and what those houses looked like, or if we had a wedding band and children, etc. it only matters how we reached out, how we fought for those whose names were/are not written in the same book as ours.  it only matters how we served, sacrificed, and trusted. 

i think about what peace and rest mean: complete trust in Him.  i think about how that surely brings so much beauty that peter, and even solomon wrote of--the countenance of calm rest and trust, that offers more beauty than any size, shape face, nose, eyes, skin tone, etc. 

i think about what we fill ourselves with, how we handle trials, turmoil, pain, hurt, etc. and i think--none of that really matters. i think about what real need is, what real pain is, what real fear is, and i’ve seen it: here. i think of the more we try to fill our lives with things and statuses that do not matter, the more we fill ourselves with temporal things, that our facade of joy rest on--what happens when they are gone?  we must let our joy rest only on Him, our peace be only in Him. if our joy and peace rest on anything else, they are shakable, and will crumble at the slightest jolt. to fill ourselves with only a trust in Him, a love of and for Him and His will, that will surely fill us with the quietest, sweetest trust, and how truly beautiful is that?!  i see beautiful women here--far more beautiful than i’ve seen before.  through sickness, death, abandonment, poverty, they do have a peace.  the ones with that peace, that quiet trust, surely outshine us all who have no want.  

“for a cup brimful of sweet water cannot spill even one drop of bitter water, however suddenly jolted”--amy carmichael

  

choose your heart

i’ve debated in my mind rather or not i should wrote this post, i am airing on the side of “do write and post”; just know that i am not uncovering anyone with any ill intent, but, more speaking to the state of humanity, and the long affects of an abandonment mentality, and given a direct prayer request for these and the 147 million other orphans in the world. 

i believe i have referenced in previous post the connection made between how we view our earthly father and how we view our Heavenly Father. if our earthly father is absent, abandons us, we will most likely have a distant view of our Heavenly Father, as One who is not there, One who does easily and readily leave us, despite His promise found throughout the pentatudes (first five books of the bible) of “I will never fail or forsake/abandon you.” if our earthly father was abusive, harsh, we will view our Heavenly Father as abusive, harsh, impossible to “please”.  

trails and traumatic events tend to stay with us much longer than necessary.  we live our present lives, often, as if the past still has control over us, as if the past is still a present danger, when 95% of the time, it is not. it is one of the schemes of the enemy to keep us from walking in the joy and freedom and grace made available to us through Jesus.  i’ve done it.  i’ve carried scars with me in what is supposed to be a freely healed heart. arghhhh, i hate talking about myself, i do.  there are few people that i will be bare with.  i will talk with almost anyone about theology, philosophy, etc, but myself, few. so, i’m going to painfully break that routine of not, and bare, because i am about to share other’s burdens/hurts too.  my fear: abandonment. it can bring me to tremble at the thought of it. having a close relationship/friendship/trust with someone, and then, they’re gone. i feel foolish, exposed, unsafe, and vulnerable--i hate it.  my fear of abandonment interferes with me from trusting and forming relationships a lot.  it goes back to my childhood--a long time ago...i know i am safe from things that happened, that hurt, that wounds in my heart, but, the enemy still wants me to believe that i am susceptable to those hurts again, that it’s going to be done to me all over again, and he attempts to magnify the hurt that it will bring--thus, (attempting to) steal(ing) my healed heart, and having me believe i still have the wounded heart.  it’s not true. at all.  my heart is beautifully redeemed and healed. that doesn’t mean that those things will never happen to me again, they have, and they will again, but, it means that this healed and redeemed heart receives it a different way.  it no longer has to receive it in a way that says it shapes and defines who i am.  it can now receive it in a way that says, “wow, that still hurts, but, what does God say about me?: He says “I will never fail or forsake/abandon you”. and i cling to that. my identity and safety no longer come from fellow man, but from the Lord, and that’s my freedom.  that’s my strength to face those fears, abandonment, in the face, receive it, acknowledge it hurts, then bring it to the Lord and He speaks truth over it.  it has taken a loooong time to get here. but i am here. keeping my gaze upon the Lord, desiring to never avert my eyes from Him and His truth over me.   :up until hitting "publish post" i debated rather or not i should strike all that personal information, but, i say now, "it's not about me" if someone else can be encouraged through it, than to God be the glory, if it helps relay the coming children's story and prayer request for them, than, the fear i feel in sharing is all worth it, to stir up hearts of prayer for them. :)   
****edit**** i also very much realize that much what we perceive now is just that, perception, lies, not true.  i realize that what i may perceive as abandonment now, is possibly not that at all.  it's about looking at the truth in things, and not through stained eyes or a wounded heart.  often times, we miss it, and make something be "proof" of our fear when in fact, it is not at all, --we have just accustomed ourselves to thinking something is hurtful or an attack when in fact, it is not at all. --so, the title should actually be, "choose your heart and eyes"--because we must not only change our hearts, but our eyes and mind. :)  <3  

i see this same struggle in my children here though.  the ones i work with daily.  they have had hard lives.  they have been in places where they were not provided for, given up, abandoned, etc. but that is no longer the case, the truth--they are cared for, loved, provided for where they’re at now.  some have experienced  years of having to con, steal, etc. to provide for themselves, protect themselves.  though they do not have to anymore, they still do.  it’s fear based. they are safe now. fed now. loved now. provided for now. belong now. etc. but, they still live in the past, with the heart that had to be hard, rough, and shrewd just to survive. they know in the forefront of their minds they do not have to worry about hunger, thirst, loneliness, but, their hearts are still attacked, they  as children still are, believing they still have to resort to old ways of conning and stealing to make it, to be provided for. caretakers’ rooms are entered and personal items gone through, taken, and items go missing, as if that is the only option for them to be fed, provided for, etc. this is not true, at all, but satan still has a grip on them. they still walk with their old hurt, scarred, jaded heart, instead of the healed, new, light heart that Jesus has promised them. “My yoke is easy and burden light”.   i remember thinking: all they  had to do is ask!  no need to steal, con, etc...just ask me!!! i care, i will help!  just ask!  don’t steal, con, etc! just ask!  i know they know that i, and the other adults care about and love them, but, the enemy’s grip it is tight!  then i look at my life, the lives of other people i see and also remember from the states, and i think to myself, we are no different. we may not steal of con, per se, but, how many of us walk, believing who Jesus was, what He did, how that changes us, but still walk with our old wounded hearts, letting those OLD, in the past wounds and scars shape us now, how we relate now.  the answer: many of us. i have. i have, until these past few weeks, utterly feared abandonment, until i came to a place where i had no one anyway, and came to see that Jesus is all i need. that doesn’t mean it still won’t hurt, but it does mean that when it does happen, i can receive it differently.  it’s like here, they may not get meat or vegetables everyday, but they will be fed. it doesn’t mean they won’t be disciplined, but when it happens it is done out of love. i pray that they will allow their hearts to believe this, that they will choose their new, healed, redeemed heart, over they past wounded one. they have a place now!  they are loved! they have no need to fear! but, they do. i continue to pray that they will chose their new heart, and lay the old habits of stealing and conning learned by their wounded hearts aside. when you think of how to pray for the hungry, the orphaned, the abandoned, please remember to not only pray for their provision, but also for their hearts. that they will choose new hearts, and no longer live in fear that resides mightily in their old hearts.  pray that they will believe in their new hearts, and that freedom will grow stronger and stronger. 

i would also encourage you in this, examine your heart, the heart that Christ lives in, do you still let the past wounds, transgressions shape you and have some aspect of control over your life now?  don’t!!!!!  live in your new heart, the heart that has been healed, wiped clean, the heart that is beautifully dwelled in by Christ. choose your heart, the old broken wounded one, or the new, healed, beautiful one that says, “hurts may still come, but, it will not shape my identity or control me!”  let Him shape and define you, not other mortal, sinful man. :)    walk in your freedom, and healing, and pray that these children all around the world can too. 

“a Jesus who never wept could never wipe away my tears”--charles spurgeon

"therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. the old has passed away; behold, the new has come!" 2 corinthians 5:17 

barefoot

i ran across a blog titled “the barefoot gospel” and it really made me think heavily about life back in the states, upon my return. i’m pretty blessed to go to an incredible church, that serves and welcomes the homeless community into it’s doors, but, others, i know, are not so blessed to be part of such a spiritual family.  i think about life here, now. the dirt roads i walk, the tent church we meet in.  the encocos (chickens--the luganda word is just waaaaaaay more fun to say!) that run around the tent of our meetings, the cows i pass on my walks there, the half-naked children i pass that always greet me with a “hi auntie carmen!” and then run up and grab my hands, and i think, surely this is far more a picture of the kingdom than the fine clothing and jewelry we are used to adoring ourselves with, than the late model vehicles we drive. what really really matters? what do we give account for?  what are we working and striving toward?  do we strive as much to reach the lost, the burdened, the weak and weary as we do other things that pleasure us.  do we strive, work, run with diligence this race marked out for us, to bring as many long side of us as we can?  

"therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart"--hebrews 12:1-3

 what we work the hardest for, that is where our heart lies.  what have we made the gospel?  are we living our lives, that it reflects how we reach “the least of these”. the least are not necessarily the poor, they are also broken, sick, the odd ones, the outcast, the eccentric ones.  they are the ones outside of our comfort zone. do we dine with the ones others raise an eyebrow at, and greet the ones that go unnoticed, or worse, ignored. do we go far enough outside of our comfort zone to bring them to Him?  if we are reaching them, who is?  we are ALL called to reach them, in some way.  it can be a simple greeting, or an invitation to a bible study, or an invitation to dine with you and your comfort zone friends after church.  it’s so easy.  my sister once said, after witnessing a family member’s tantrum “it’s so much easier to just love people” that’s actually when it hit me, it really struck my heart, just do it, just love.  make up your mind that is what you are going to do, be: love. just be it: love. let Him be love in you.

we cannot, simply cannot sit by idly while others perish still broken and lost.  

“if sinners be damned, at least let them leap to Hell over our dead bodies. and if they perish, let them perish with our arms wrapped about their knees, imploring them to stay. if Hell must be filled, let it be filled in the teeth of our exertions, and let not one go unwarned and unprayed for.” --charles spurgeon

:update: 

snake-pocalypse

well, what i first thought was a spider bite--lots of spiders here! (48 hours ago), turns out is more likely the bite from an adder snake. they’re bad dudes. really, google “adder snake, africa” you’re better off meeting mike tyson in a dark alley than encountering one of them.

anyway, it went from a small bite/puncture wound, apparently inappropriately blamed on the most vilest of all creatures-a spider, to a mere 18ish hours later my hand swelling to the size of a small child’s boxing glove, turned red as well, and proceeded to extend the swelling and redness to my wrist and forearm.  the medication originally prescribed when it was but half my hand swelled (day after bite) did nothing, and that night, i cried from the pain--the first time physical pain has brought tears to my eyes in a long time. it went from feeling like a nail was driven through my hand to every bone in my hand being broken.  the redness in the hand also developed a blue-ish undertone to it, and thus, the swelling also proceeded to the size of the aforementioned children’s boxing glove. unrecognizable as a hand almost. the mere act of trying to bend my hand made me feel like it was going to split open.  i went back to the doctor the next day (2 days post bite--today), and he was a bit surprised too. the puncture wound itself was not the source of concern, but the venom/poison/reaction spread to my whole and and forearm.  he gave me an anti-inflammatory there and had me stay an hour, holding my entire hand/arm upright for an hour to see if it reduced in swelling. it did not. further confirming this british national who has received honors from the royal family, to state it was the bite/venom of an adder snake.  i’m actually quite lucky--google it, seriously. anyhow, since i leave for the states on the 2nd, i was asking him what do i do if it keeps getting worse, since already in the past 48 hours it went from a small blister to my whole hand swelling 5 times it’s size, turning blue-ish red, and my forearm swelling/discoloring too, he looked at me for a minute and said amputation to prevent it from spreading more. not sure if it was his british humor, when i said “nah, you’re joking” he just looked at me.  i do remember looking at my hand at one point, when it resembled more of a boxing glove, reddish/blue in color, feeling as if all the bones were breaking,, and thinking: You can have my hand, You’ll give it back to me one day.  and He would.  one day.  either way, it’s not good if it was to get worse, it was already that bad at 48 hours, i’d hate to see it at 96 hours...since at this point too my hand had lost feeling.  i emailed a few people and relayed these latest developments, deploying my prayer warrior team, and, within an hour, my hand had decreased in, to about 1/3 what it was.  it’s still swollen--but at least somewhat recognizable as a hand now! and no longer blue-ish in color as well!  though i am returning to the states, with a pretty maimed hand, at least i’m returning with both, and i don’t have to learn to write with my left hand after all! :)  as far as how maimed my hand will be, i’ll know more within the next few days.  

(He makes) all things new

a boy.  he asked me: when you've been a murderer, like me, how can God use you? how can God know you?  can you still go to Heaven? 

i could only answer: it's only about Jesus.  those acts were nailed to the cross with Him.  you are only His son now. when He sees you, He sees love, not was was done before you knew Him. 

he smiles and nods his head.  i pray he feels this, believes this. 

 the one who conquers will have this heritage, and I will be his God and he will be my son--revelation 21:7

they have had so much pain, hardship, and suffering in their young lives, yet, i find constant that there is peace and joy in their countenance.

“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace; where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy.”--st. francis

awake o sleeper!

she wipes his face clean with his shirt, wiping away the tears and the runny nose. the lovingly rubs his back and then picks him up and holds him close to her chest.  her hand on his back, holding him close to her as she quietly says, “shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay, shhh, it’s okay” and then begins to sing him a soft song.  she is 6 and he is her 8 month old brother.  just two of the siblings that come to our program to receive nutritious food and hear bible stories.  a break from their seemingly impossibly difficult lives, aimed to let them be children, if only for a few hours, yet, they sacrifice, the 6 year olds sacrifice so that their younger siblings can be children there.  

today i saw her bathing the baby.  the one year old was in a large plastic bucket tub, and she gooed and tickled her as she poured the water over her.  she lathered her hands with soap, and gently and attentively cleaned her, so maturely, making sure to get her neck, behind her ears and even her little girl parts. she made faces with her, so that she could laugh, after this, she picked her up out of the dirty bucket water and held her tightly, drying her off and took her inside to dress her.  the “she” doing the bathing for the 1 year old is only 8.  she is so mature, attentive to the little one’s cries, quick to respond and soothe. 

these are just a few examples in the last two days of what the lives of children is like here.  they care for their younger siblings, as “stand-in parents”.  they walk twice a day, some, miles each time to fetch dirty water from running streams.  5 year olds do this, and walk the miles back, carrying 3-5 gallon “jerry cans”--the yellow tubs used to transport water. yet, there remains joy in faces, in smiles, in yellowed eyes.  

we were blessed to have another team from visiting orphans come through for a day.  in the cost of the trip, it includes this day, for us to be able to feed 150+ children rice, beans, and pasha, as well as give them soda to drink.  they come as they are, hungry, dirty, excited--for food and to be loved on.  excited over silly pipe cleaner art projects and puppet shows.  excited to just be...visited.  

my heart is a mess right now. i leave in 2 weeks.  i’m not “looking forward” to leaving and “getting back to the states”. i am looking forward to working again so i can support others that are here, serving the orphaned and vulnerable, i am looking forward to nursing school, so that i can do medical missions, i am looking forward to continuing to press, fight through this change.  there is so much that needs to be done, and now that i have been here, i see there are others, others who gave up everything to come, serve, and love, but, it’s not enough.  the mass of the population that needs help, needs love, needs empowerment, needs hope, is far greater than a supportive ratio that can be offered with those that are here. and this is just kampala/jinja/pallissa.  there are times that my heart is breaking so widely open, crumbling into such ungatherable stony dust that i know only one of two things are possible: wallow in that brokenness and be selfish/focused on the sadness their suffering is bringing me, or wait upon the Lord, and know that by breaking something (my heart) so severely, that surely He is doing something incredible. and, He is, He is doing something magnificant, something with His fingerprints all over it.  

 video of this awesome dance number to come once i have more reliable internet! :)

spidergate: so, anyone that knows me knows of my utter, complete, fear of spiders, a fear so strong, it renders me absolutely useless if i even think one is near me; all i am able to do is cry out: “kill it! kill it! please, kill it! someone kill it! kill it!” i will whimper this over and over and over and over and over until someone, well, kills it. last night, they had their vengence, in a big way, or at least one did. it seems as if one was trapped inside of my mosquitto net, inside of my bed with me.  he mauled me.  imagine you give up oh, say, coffee for lent, or meat...and then, that day comes, and Holy! Holy! Holy! you devour a venti vanilla soy latte with an extra shot of espresso in under a minute--well, that’s kinda like what this evil spawn of the prince of darkness did to me  :( .  it makes me sad. and sore.  i think he was a mutant spider and had razors growing from his spider fangs too-by the looks of the bites :(  he’s probably hiding, waiting to come out and do it all again.  i searched for him, to kill him, and could not find him...i think he’s like a green beret spider, plotting his attack right now actually.  i’d rather have the mouse back--at least i never confirmed that he was a carrier of the bubonic plague, he might have been good and awesome like, danger mouse:

highly unlikely, but possible

***edit* the culprit it would seem is a brown recluse/violin spider--jerk. :(  i will be returning slightly maimed.  this is why i hate spiders. :( i shall feel no embarrassment for my whimpering, shrill, crying please for people to kill spiders for me now.***

and, lastly: i’m a bit of an emily post fanatic, so, believe me, it is driving me a bit mad not to be able to send each of you a thank you card, or even email yet for donating to the best birthday ever for the children in africa fund!  i shall take pictures of this wonderful, great, fun, super, bestest event and post them as soon as i can post party (which will be on the 29th!).  my heart is truly gladdened still at the care and love to donate for this.  i am loved beyond what i deserve for God to call me here, and even further that you all would love these children that i love, and give so that they may be blessed on my birthday.  surely someone is more worthy, and thus, it can only be God, and His love for these children, because i surely do not deserve to be any sort of vessel for Him. <3

which is why i reference this:

"but everything exposed by the light becomes visible—and everything that is illuminated becomes a light. this is why it is said:
   “wake up, sleeper,
   rise from the dead,
   and Christ will shine on you.”
be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the Lord’s will is."--ephesians 5:13-17


let what is awakened in us, be not put out, that flame in us, however small, remain more powerful than even the thickest darkness. that light within us, that flickering, not only brings light and truth to those around us, but also to our own self, our own heart. 

...the talk

today was our saturday gathering: we have about 100-150 children on saturdays, and do a bible story, give them nutritious (polite way of saying: NOT tasty!) porridge for breakfast, break into groups to do a more in-depth bible study/accountability group, and do music/drama/dance, and then give them tasty, and nutritious rice and beans for lunch.  

today’s in-depth lesson (once we split the boys and girls up): sex (there is still a very high rate of AIDS here and very young girls becoming pregnant (and thus, young, SINGLE, mothers)). the girls in the group ranged from 8 years old to 15. i talked with them about AIDS, other sexually transmitted diseases, pregnancy, heart issues that come with having sex, and  God’s law. to demonstrate the heart loss that comes with sex, i called one of the home girls up, (swabullah who is 13) and gave her a sheet of paper. in the demonstration for each guy that she had sex with, a large piece of the paper was torn and thrown away, until after just three tears she was left with nothing but a tiny scrap.  i want them to understand that there is a bond that is made, formed, a connection that is so strong that the breaking of it is absolutely wrenching when two people have sex. i want them to know and believe that they are indescribably special, beautiful, worth only one man being with them. i want them to know that their hearts are a prize that is only to be held by God, until marriage, because the alternative, the heart break that comes with it, i cringe with pain of my own at the thought of them having to bear.  but sadly, here, many of the women think that if they have sex with a man, he’ll stay and take care of them (provide food, a roof over their head, etc).  this never happens. instead, the men leave to go to another woman once this one either becomes sick with AIDS, or pregnant.  leaving behind a trail of sick women, who are single mothers, unable to provide for and feed the child, both then are hungry, in poverty, the girl grows up without a father figure, and the cycle repeats itself. 

at the end of the discussion/lesson they asked questions. one of the 10 year old girls asked “what do you do if you are very young, our age, and your parents are making you get married, for money”.  i was somewhat ill-equipped to answer this. see, i’m not actually in the main city of kampala, but on the outskirts, in a village district called “busega”  and am not completely knowledgable of all the legal/illegal things that occur within their culture. i had a female translator for this session so i let her answer that, as she grew up here, she knows the culture more, and the legal availabilities to children.  i later asked deborah (my female translator) how old the men are that the parents force these young daughter to marry are (young = 8-12), and the answer shocked me: 40’s-50’s ( i was thinking she’d say: 20’s, 30’s at the most (which is still NOT acceptable).  i’ll be 30 on the 29th of this month, and am therefore old enough for these girls to be my daughters.  that motherly instinct in my heart broke. (i would like to think that i would let myself starve or turn my own self to the streets before i auctioned off my 10 year old to someone old enough to be her father or grandfather) my heart cried out: how could they?!!! this righteous indignation began to rise up in me, and all i could do as deborah was talking to her was drop my head and pray.  i want so badly to protect them, to make a way so that desperation does not take precedent over what is right.  but i can’t.  everyday i think about the contrast of lives: the lives of these children here, and the lives of children where i once called home. i don’t have any answers, or even any profound statements to follow up this short story of today.  

on my way home yesterday, trapsing along on the same dirt road i do everyday, i heard a sad cry in the distance.  there are sad cries, and cries of pain, highly distuingshable to my ears, and possibly every female with a motherly desire in her.  as i continued walking, i saw a tiny little guy walking, shuffling his feet along the dirt toward me.  i soon saw that he had one hand on his head, rubbing it, and his sad cry grew louder as i came closer.  i came to him and bent down, eye level with his which were full of large tears. and he immediately walked into my arms, burying his little head in my chest, one hand still on his head.  not yet well-versed enough in the luganda language to communicate with a 3 year old, a man who was near by walked and i asked him what was wrong. the man shrugged his shoulders and casually said “he must have been beat. his parents beat him”.  all i could do was hold him, rub is back, and tell him in my best lunganda that he is good.  i love these moments of embrace. i do not love the tears, the hurt, the suffering, the sadness, but, that even on a dirt road, on my way home, that i can still embrace and love, and nurture the sad heart of a child in need.  

--fast forward to this morning, when the 100-150 children from the community come, and guess who came running into the tent, jumping into my arms as soon as we saw each other: my dirt road friend!  we cuddled for a good 30 minutes until i had to go to the front to do the large group bible story.  this is love, to hold, to support, to offer a place of security, though it be only a perceived security: the sadness in these hearts can be soothed with a simple embrace. 

we often get so caught up in trying to do the big things that we neglect to see that such a simple small thing, may be the biggest thing to somebody. 

 love.

 love.

 joy!

love. 

more stories:

(i decided that i would start blogging more regularly given that i only have a few more weeks here, and i have not done well at all in updates :) ) 

his bloated and distended belly, full of worms and parasites, was exposed to the air as he stood on the side of the dirt road, and waved at me calling out: “byeeeeeeee! auntie carmen! see yoooooou later!”  i smiled and waved at him, stopping in the dirt road to exchange smiled and greetings with him for a moment.  i was inside his house a few weeks ago: his small one room house that he lived in with his mother and siblings. in the small black plastic garbage bag was a new piece of clothing, a ziploc bag with supplies to do an art project, and a small toy.  he was delighted to receive this, and his mother was delighted to welcome us into her home. she had spent the day before cleaning it, making sure the floor was clean, that she could wash the cloth on the couch and chairs, and eagerly welcomed us in. 

i think about the “humble” home i grew up in, or i thought it was humble then...it’s all a matter of perspective, and my perspective changed many years ago when i sat walked down the dirt roads of afghanistan.  i saw a picture recently, that struck a chord with me, especially given my new residence. i see that picture and i think about the prespective i had growing up, and after i was on my own, and then the perspective i have now.  

what true need is, what true poverty is, what true hunger is, what true desperation is: it is a mother not knowing how or when she will be able to feed her child, it is a child whose belly is distended and round, full of parasites and worms, resembling a 8 month pregnant woman’s belly which is full of a baby.  i find moments everyday where i am so incredibly overwhelmed, and my heart breaks on a daily basis, all i can do is continue to put those shattered pieces in His hands, put those distended bellies in His hands; my hands are small and insufficient, my heart is weak and broken, but it is through small insufficient hands, and weak and broken hearts that He works. they are not only someone’s child here, they are His child too.  just as it breaks my heart to see them suffer, it breaks His heart, most assuredly even greater than my own.  my broken heart, their suffering is much more fitted for His hands than my own. 

meandering update:

i decided i needed a long walk today, the short 1/2 mile walk from my house to the children’s home and back isn’t cutting it; so, i convinced my translator to take the long way with me for exercise.  we walked down a long and winding dirt road, to where our surroundings were nothing but wetlands, marshes, and heaps and piles of trash.  we came to one of the largest churches in the busega district (which is technically where i live), where for the last 4 years they have been building a new, larger church; in the meantime they are meeting in what can only be described as a very, very, very large barn.  1,000’s of people meet here weekly, waiting for their new church to be finished.  while walking around (a detour form our planned long walk), i encountered a man, a man with a large scar extending across his entire face, holding a semi-automatic weapon.  i was curious if the pink book would work in this culture (bytheway, unless you already know what the pink book is, i most certainly will not tell you, it’s top secret!), so, i smiled as we were walking, stopped for him to describe where they were in the process, and i looked at him, smiling, and asked, “is that real?” tiling my head slightly and pointing to his semiautomatic.  before he could answer, i smiled and asked if it was loaded.  he stood there for a moment, both eyes looking at me, examining me, his right eye (which his large scar cut through) along with his left eye, didn’t break from me--then! he smiled, nodded his head and said “yes.”  he smiled again and invited my translator and me to an event there saturday which will have 1,000’s of people from other connected churches.  he began describing what a big put on it was, and how i should come and they’d love to have me.  so, i suppose that yes,yes, the pink book works here too.  he continued the tour, showing us the grounds, the prayer garden, etc. :)  lesson: when a man with a semi-automatic weapon invites you to a church get-together, you smile, thank them, and accept. :) 

“the pain i feel now is the happiness i had before. that's the deal.”--c.s. lewis

p.s.:

mouse update 2011:

last weekish he (the mouse that has been my unwelcome roommate for about a week) made another appearance, and i squealed--loud. pastor sam came with a 3 foot sugar cane to smash him. mouse ran out of my room, down hall and into kitchen. then, straight out of a cartoon, no joke: under a crack in the backdoor directly into the paws of a stray cat that just happened to be at our back door at that exact moment. :) now, if only a similarly amusing fate would befell the other mouse roommate.  :)

a few stories:

walking on the dirt road today from my house to the children’s home, i looked a 4 foot heap of trash that someone dumped in the middle of the road some days ago, down the smaller dirt road that darts off from it.  there’s yet another large trash heap. children often play around it, hoping to find a carelessly discarded treasures like a juice box with a few ounces of juice still left in it, and i see a small girl, about the age of 3.  she has something in her hand, white and round, which looks like a makeshift ball from my vantage point.  she then pulls it into her chest as she skip over the rest of the trash, picking items out.  she walks from the trash, and i notice what is in her arms, a used diaper. dirty, wadded up.  i pause at this road meeting, waiting for her to come, so i can encourage her to put down the dirty diaper and then so i can wash her hands.  she puts it down before coming to me, and continues to skip on, smiling, radiating joy through her yellowed eyes. 

she carefully balanced it on her head, a one gallon jerry can used to carry water from the well. she then walked, shaking her hips, and giggling at her over-exaggerated walk.  she is 5, and her name is pasha. she’s one of my 15 that i see every day of the week.  her little frame, so full of energy.  after walking 20 feet or so, she takes the jug off of her head and carries it in her hand, and continues toward the house.

during our tutoring time, we finished by playing “carmen says”--similar to simon (says), but i take the charge! :)  they giggle as they mostly look to the older boy in this group, sam who is 8 (the children who are over 10 are still in school, and will be until about 5), to see what they are supposed to do, as they lack confidence in their english skills. i laugh as i tell sam he has a lot of pressure, that if he messes up, they all do, and he laughs too and nods his head. we move from this to the hokey pokey, and begin the process of learning “right” and “left.”

i walk home from the market, with my prized beef sausages (the delight!) and like the pied piper, a line soon forms behind me, one or two will giggle and yell out “hiiiiiiiii auntie carmen!” and upon my turning around, smiling, hand lovingly laying my hand on their shoulders, the others join in, shouting with smiles missing teeth, scarred faces, shaved heads: “auntie carmen!!! hiiii!  HOW are youuuuuu?!”  they are precious, enunciating words, emphasizing certain other words, and dragging out syllables.  i love them.  the joy, the joy strikes me everyday day still!  in the midst of 5 year olds fetching water from a ground well (a stream that has a pipe in the end of the bluff that pours out the water) several times a day, to the ones playing on trash heaps bigger than they are, and school children on their way home, eager to practice their english, the joy strikes me!  

there are solemn faces here, but, they are mainly reserved for the older.  the ones charged with caring for the little ones so full of joy. i suppose the solemness comes from the realization that they are unable to provide steady meals, nourishing foods, and education for their children.  the hopelessness that they learn to feel. the solemness is on the faces of the women, who laid down with men, thinking those men would stay, and they would be provided for.  they of course do not stay, and often leave behind AIDS and a pregnancy.  abortions here happen, they are awful.  the women desperate, scared, abandoned in childhood by their father, abandoned by the man they laid with who they thought would stay and provide, they go to small shacks for these home-done abortions.  many die from this.  others are left in constant pain.  the ones that do not have abortions are left in a constant pain of another kind: the emotional heaviness that comes from knowing they cannot feed their children.  we encourage the young girls, the teenage girls, the women to see them self as a bride of Christ, and find beauty in that, to let Christ love them, and believe that He has reserved something better for them.  but, this society, this situation, this desperation tells them otherwise.  

she asked me if i was going to die.  i sat there for a moment, in her 5 foot by 5 foot house as she laid on the bed to the left of the chair i was sitting in. i looked at her eyes, and she repeated the question, and i said, “of course i am! and it will be the greatest day ever!” she looked at me a bit confused, so much sadness in her eyes.  my translator told me she was positive (AIDS) and that she had been so for about 5 years, and was afraid of dying. i searched my heart for the appropriate combination of sympathy and encouragement, and explained to her the words of the apostle paul “absent with the body is present with the Lord” and that if she has Christ in her heart, death from this world is a glorious thing. i explained to her that not even i, a mezungu, am guaranteed anything.  i may die that night, i may die in a plane crash, i may die in a car crash when i get home, i may get malaria here and die here, etc.  but, that there is no fear in death.  i explained how satan seeks to steal, kill and destroy, and that i would pray that she would be comforted knowing that when she passes, she will be welcomed into the most glorious kingdom, and that this life is temporary-for everyone.  she nodded her head and smiled slightly. i asked if she had a relationship with Jesus, if she was a christian, and she said she was. i put my hand on her and told her that we would again be reunited as sisters one day, in a place where there is no sickness, hunger, poverty, sadness, etc. she was one of the women who was with a man because she wanted to be provided for, but he left one day, and never came back.  she has a child too now, who is NOT positive, but she struggles to feed him, cloth him, care for him.  we gave them a gift bag-not much, but, new clothes for him, some medicine, and a toy. i can’t fix it, i can’t make their situation better, but, i can love.  i tell myself that-because i suffer in my heart seeing all this suffering and not being able to make it better, completely.  but God says: go. be. love.  i can speak truth.  no one lights a lamp and puts it under a basket.  even the smallest flame drives out all darkness around it.  i see myself as such a tiny flame--so tiny--itsy bitsy flame; but, i am a flame nonetheless, and i am commanded to shine my little light.  it’s so little, but it drives out darkness.  as long as i am there/here i will speak truth, i will rebuke, i will speak life.  i will love. 

i think: there is so much to be done.  there are so many hurting.  there is so much hunger. lonliness. sickness.  i become overwhelmed.  then, i redirect my focus to Him. i can’t do it, i can’t fix it.  He conquers though.  where there is love, there need be no fear.  her frail frame appears in my mind as her question echos: “will you die?”  and i smile, because i know i will-and i want to take her precious face in my hands and tell her how beautiful she is, that she is His perfect bride, and that when she does, she will meet Him, her bridegroom, who NEVER left her. she will meet Him in front of pearl gates and He will take her into His arms, embrace her and her new healed body, and He will welcome her into His Kingdom. 

i want to tell her death is beautiful, but i must tread lightly, my healthy body, my home to go to in the states, then, He tells me that same thing: death is beautiful.  my death of desires, hopes, dreams, wants, comforts.  there is a beauty that consumes you like a burning flame when you lay it all down. when you say, “i only want you Jesus! Your Kingdom! to serve and love You!” and He calls you to walk that.  constant refinement, constant fire, that’s what we feel. in the midst of pain, in the midst of trails, in the midst of realizing that we have totally and completely messed up, we take those broken pieces to Him, and He creates something beautiful.  i put my dreams and hopes and desires in beautifully colored bottles, and i sat them on a shelf to look at, gaze at, aspire for, and then, that wall crumbled-it was knocked down, and all those colored bottles of hopes, dreams, desires were shattered.  i picked up the pieces and took them to Him, and feel at His feet, and said, “i’m sorry Lord for the thing i have made my life, it is Yours now---You make it as You will” and behold, out of those shattered pieces, a stained-glass window, with an image of love.  i cannot describe it, it was an image for me, for us.  as i tell her, “death is beautiful” He tells me the same.

 they sit, eager to learn, hear, be a part of something. be loved.

 it says: "God always wins!"...yes He does! yes He does!  her smile says it all. it's the joy! the joy!

grandmother, caring for her grandchild.  there are many families that look like this.  aunts, uncles, grandparents take in children.

one of the twins of the house, martha (sister is mary :) ).

"he who is full loathes honey, but to him who is hungry, even the bitter taste sweet"--proverbs 27:7

i said this as i held my broken brightly colored bottles that once held my hopes, dreams, and desires. even the hard times, even the fire, even the trails, Lord let my hunger for You be so great that they are sweet to me. 

also! thanks all those that donated! wow! that was a fast response!  :)  i'm so very excited to celebrate my birthday on october 29th with my favoritest.  i cannot think of any other way i'd rather spend it, than to bless them, and fill their bellies and give them an experience they have yet to have!  thank you for being a part of that blessing!  <3