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.  :)