Sadly I am no longer in Uganda and my posts here where somewhat far and in-between. But I was able to type this out while there right before a power outage and would like to share it!
The internet has been down for the past two days.
We have had water on and off for the past three.
Our neighbors have children that stomp and scream constantly as they either play or cry.
The city is constantly filled with smoke. Black heavy smoke from burning trash.
Dirt is constantly staining. Everything.
The babies that are handed to us are dirty. Wearing nothing but an old, ill fitting dress, they often smell of pee.
The birds are loud. They wake me up every morning as we near 6 a.m. and I pull back the curtain at my head and peer out into the upcoming day. A new day in Uganda. A fresh day in my life.
Most of these things sound negative. Having no internet can seem to be quite the hassle. When there is a blog to be written, emails to be responded to, and pictures to be uploaded who has time for no internet?
Honestly, it was nice. Not because keeping in contact is a hassle, but because it forced me to write things down. To be more observant and to commit things to memory. I have memorized the pictures on my camera rather then uploading and erasing. I have carried a journal noting new words, observing, immersing.
No water is a hassle. I will admit carrying a bucket to the toilet to fill it with water each time one of us needs to be relieved is tedious and gets old fast. Not showering on command, annoying. Especially when my entire body is overed in a mixture of dirt, sunscreen, and sweat. But not having water is a total reality for more than half of the population right here on this block. It's a total reality for the majority of this country, this continent. I am annoyed when I cant take a shower once I am home when most are happy to shower even once a week. It has taught me a lesson that I seem to need to learn again and again, I am SO blessed. So blessed. To have simple things like water, a shower, a clean towel. It means nothing to me in the States. In fact, it's expected.
I am not one to consider myself "high maintenance" but after the past few days I am finding I am more so than not. We are not called to live comfortably. I don't mean I believe God wants us to be miserable for all of our days. In fact I believe He WANTS His children to live comfortably. All of them. Including the ones here. So for those of us who have come to "expect" a shower each morning or night, a clean towel to be one the rack, let us take a step back from our reality and consider theirs. How can we make THEIR reality comfortable?
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Monday, July 25, 2011
Masese
Before I came to Uganda last year I could say "Things aren't really like that."
After going to Uganda last year I could say "I never knew things really are like that. I had never seen things like that with my own eyes. Those things aren't real in my world."
Today as I am in Uganda once again I can say "My eyes are no longer innocent. My mind is filled with their suffering. My heart hurts for their pain. Things are worse then I even knew."
Today we went to the slums of Jinja. A small village populated by a tribe called the karamojong who migrated here some years ago populate this area called Masese.
I knew the area was bad. I knew there were many health concerns (ringworm, jiggers, scabies to name a few) that should have kept us from touching much. I knew there would be children running astray, half clothed, malnourished. I knew. But I did not know. Really.
As we entered the village a mass of children swarmed the van all yelling "muzungu" white person. Once the door was opened and we set foot on the ground we were swarmed. There was no one spot on my white skin that was not being touched by small black, searching hands. I can say I am somewhat used to this. It's a typical thing for children. But then we were led off the of the main road into the real village. Where clothes lines with grubby clothes weaved the path overhead, the smell of smoke, urine, mud, and cooking rice, overwhelming our senses.
Trodden down by the multiple children attempting to use me as a tree to climb I decided to sit on some higher ground near the houses. It was then I really saw what I had been looking at. Holding a baby, not even a year old, who wore only a dirt covered shirt, malnourished to the point where he had no bottom fat, my eyes absorbed what I had not thought to be true. This small child who clingged to my neck had sores covering his back, the onset of ringworm on his small head. He had been given a piece of bread to eat, by who I am not sure. I held him and I could not hold back the tears. As others pulled at my skirt, ran their fingers through my hair, and asked for pictures I sat in my own thoughts, crying, praying a silent prayer that these things could not be true.
The small child was soon taken from me by a young woman who I am guessing was his mother although she looked hardly older then me. The children took advantage of the free space and climbed on my lap. I found myself seeking the smallest, the weakest, the children who had been pushed down, shoved to the side, forgotten by their siblings because these muzungus were here. I took three by the hand, one by one. They came willingly into my embrace and I placed them on my lap. The older children who had been seeking my attention quickly caught on and ran to their younger siblings or simply those who were crying. After most were calmed and tears were dried I began singing with them a song I knew from a program I only assumed they attended called Amazima. Although I knew many songs from my own childhood and they sing them in similar ways they always laughed when I would add in an extra word or phrase. I loved it. All of them singing and laughing. They were making this ugly place beautiful.
Exhausted and my hair throughly combed through by small fingers, we loaded back into the van. Trying to find trusting hands to take the baby that had fallen asleep against my chest was a challenge. Finally his what seemed to be six year old sister came to me, motioning for me to put him on her back. Hesitantly I let him go. With hands still reaching I crawled back into the safe van to drive back to the safe house to continue living my safe life (with the possibility of having ringworm).
Sitting here now I still have not showered. I needed to post this to say something. To let everyone know who is reading this that those things, they ARE real. Reality. That is their reality. Everyday. Scabbing scalps, bleeding feet covered in flies, infected skin, swollen bellies. That is all the sweet baby boy I held for nearly an hour will know. Saying it breaks my heart does not suffice. Things are not meant to be that way. For anyone. And as I grow older and advance in my education I am going to do my best to not let them be so. My challenge to you, see it with your own eyes too.
After going to Uganda last year I could say "I never knew things really are like that. I had never seen things like that with my own eyes. Those things aren't real in my world."
Today as I am in Uganda once again I can say "My eyes are no longer innocent. My mind is filled with their suffering. My heart hurts for their pain. Things are worse then I even knew."
Today we went to the slums of Jinja. A small village populated by a tribe called the karamojong who migrated here some years ago populate this area called Masese.
I knew the area was bad. I knew there were many health concerns (ringworm, jiggers, scabies to name a few) that should have kept us from touching much. I knew there would be children running astray, half clothed, malnourished. I knew. But I did not know. Really.
As we entered the village a mass of children swarmed the van all yelling "muzungu" white person. Once the door was opened and we set foot on the ground we were swarmed. There was no one spot on my white skin that was not being touched by small black, searching hands. I can say I am somewhat used to this. It's a typical thing for children. But then we were led off the of the main road into the real village. Where clothes lines with grubby clothes weaved the path overhead, the smell of smoke, urine, mud, and cooking rice, overwhelming our senses.
Trodden down by the multiple children attempting to use me as a tree to climb I decided to sit on some higher ground near the houses. It was then I really saw what I had been looking at. Holding a baby, not even a year old, who wore only a dirt covered shirt, malnourished to the point where he had no bottom fat, my eyes absorbed what I had not thought to be true. This small child who clingged to my neck had sores covering his back, the onset of ringworm on his small head. He had been given a piece of bread to eat, by who I am not sure. I held him and I could not hold back the tears. As others pulled at my skirt, ran their fingers through my hair, and asked for pictures I sat in my own thoughts, crying, praying a silent prayer that these things could not be true.
The small child was soon taken from me by a young woman who I am guessing was his mother although she looked hardly older then me. The children took advantage of the free space and climbed on my lap. I found myself seeking the smallest, the weakest, the children who had been pushed down, shoved to the side, forgotten by their siblings because these muzungus were here. I took three by the hand, one by one. They came willingly into my embrace and I placed them on my lap. The older children who had been seeking my attention quickly caught on and ran to their younger siblings or simply those who were crying. After most were calmed and tears were dried I began singing with them a song I knew from a program I only assumed they attended called Amazima. Although I knew many songs from my own childhood and they sing them in similar ways they always laughed when I would add in an extra word or phrase. I loved it. All of them singing and laughing. They were making this ugly place beautiful.
Exhausted and my hair throughly combed through by small fingers, we loaded back into the van. Trying to find trusting hands to take the baby that had fallen asleep against my chest was a challenge. Finally his what seemed to be six year old sister came to me, motioning for me to put him on her back. Hesitantly I let him go. With hands still reaching I crawled back into the safe van to drive back to the safe house to continue living my safe life (with the possibility of having ringworm).
Sitting here now I still have not showered. I needed to post this to say something. To let everyone know who is reading this that those things, they ARE real. Reality. That is their reality. Everyday. Scabbing scalps, bleeding feet covered in flies, infected skin, swollen bellies. That is all the sweet baby boy I held for nearly an hour will know. Saying it breaks my heart does not suffice. Things are not meant to be that way. For anyone. And as I grow older and advance in my education I am going to do my best to not let them be so. My challenge to you, see it with your own eyes too.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Day 1
One of the best days of my life.
After completing our first full day in Uganda, I believe I can speak for my team when saying it was amazing. After waking up from our restless, jet-lagged, but much appreciated sleep, we had a lovely morning orientation. As we sat out on the veranda with eggs and toast filling our plates we opened our hearts and minds to all that is Uganda. God is simply so evident here. Everything. Everything seems to sing His name. I cannot wait to experience all that He has in store for us. A very good piece of advice one of my closest friends said to me before leaving was "Let Gods love wash over you. Just soak it all in." My prayer for this journey is that my team and I can do just that. I believe that with God's love in ones heart there is simply no way to not share it with others which is exactly what I think we are here for.
We headed to Rock of Ages School around 10 a.m. and the dirty work began. When I say the dirty work I do mean that literally. We began with shoes. Passing shoes out to around 130 children could have been somewhat overwhelming but I am speaking only the truth when I say it was one of the greatest experiences of my life. Although we passed out shoes last year there was just something about yesterday that put such a joy in my heart I could have easily broken into tears. Removing familiar but now ratty shoes from the children's feet (many were wearing shoes we had given them last year) and placing new, clean, and correctly sized shoes on their feet was more of a blessing to me then I think to them. As I pulled fresh socks over their small feet and gently massaged them, smiles as wide as can be arose from their little faces. When I placed the new shoes on, grabbed another pair from the extra pile when the size was off, and tied them snuggly to their feet, a happiness overflowed from somewhere deep inside me. Best way to physically describe it was, I had the tingles all over. Goose bumps in the dead heat. God is so good and I often forget that.
After a long and hard days work we headed back to the compound and took some downtime. After showers and some rest we headed over to Sera's Caring Place for some fellowship and introductions to her boys. I have missed them so much! How they have grown! I didnt recognize half simply because they are now as tall if not taller then me and many because they are new. A few of the Dove Voice Boys sang for us to open our worship time and then one of the girls who we are also sharing the compound with spoke. After her one of the Dove Voice Boys also gave a message. I never cease to be amazed by watching others who are close to my age speak the words of the Lord. I admire them so much. I know many dont see this but I dont think I could stand in front of a crowd and speak that way. Give me a speech, directions to be given, or have me do an introduction, okay. But speaking from the heart. That is a whole new ballgame.
I am a bit behind on my blogging so I apologize for that. I will do my best to get caught up for to the actual day. Thank you all for your love and support. I will write again tomorrow morning.
After completing our first full day in Uganda, I believe I can speak for my team when saying it was amazing. After waking up from our restless, jet-lagged, but much appreciated sleep, we had a lovely morning orientation. As we sat out on the veranda with eggs and toast filling our plates we opened our hearts and minds to all that is Uganda. God is simply so evident here. Everything. Everything seems to sing His name. I cannot wait to experience all that He has in store for us. A very good piece of advice one of my closest friends said to me before leaving was "Let Gods love wash over you. Just soak it all in." My prayer for this journey is that my team and I can do just that. I believe that with God's love in ones heart there is simply no way to not share it with others which is exactly what I think we are here for.
We headed to Rock of Ages School around 10 a.m. and the dirty work began. When I say the dirty work I do mean that literally. We began with shoes. Passing shoes out to around 130 children could have been somewhat overwhelming but I am speaking only the truth when I say it was one of the greatest experiences of my life. Although we passed out shoes last year there was just something about yesterday that put such a joy in my heart I could have easily broken into tears. Removing familiar but now ratty shoes from the children's feet (many were wearing shoes we had given them last year) and placing new, clean, and correctly sized shoes on their feet was more of a blessing to me then I think to them. As I pulled fresh socks over their small feet and gently massaged them, smiles as wide as can be arose from their little faces. When I placed the new shoes on, grabbed another pair from the extra pile when the size was off, and tied them snuggly to their feet, a happiness overflowed from somewhere deep inside me. Best way to physically describe it was, I had the tingles all over. Goose bumps in the dead heat. God is so good and I often forget that.
After a long and hard days work we headed back to the compound and took some downtime. After showers and some rest we headed over to Sera's Caring Place for some fellowship and introductions to her boys. I have missed them so much! How they have grown! I didnt recognize half simply because they are now as tall if not taller then me and many because they are new. A few of the Dove Voice Boys sang for us to open our worship time and then one of the girls who we are also sharing the compound with spoke. After her one of the Dove Voice Boys also gave a message. I never cease to be amazed by watching others who are close to my age speak the words of the Lord. I admire them so much. I know many dont see this but I dont think I could stand in front of a crowd and speak that way. Give me a speech, directions to be given, or have me do an introduction, okay. But speaking from the heart. That is a whole new ballgame.
I am a bit behind on my blogging so I apologize for that. I will do my best to get caught up for to the actual day. Thank you all for your love and support. I will write again tomorrow morning.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
As the adventure has begun...
We are now in Jinja, Uganda. I am sitting on a cool tile floor in the wonderful home of Pam and Paul Hunter, simply enjoying the opportunity to stretch my legs. After travelling for over 48 hours I can honestly say I am exhausted, but there is a joy that cannot be described within my heart knowing I am "home". I have missed Uganda. It's a totally new experience being here for the second time. I can not say I felt the same thrilling adrenaline excitement throbbing throughout my body as I did last year. It was a different kind of excitement this time. A peace. Touching down on the red tinted runway I felt as calm and collected as ever which was a bit surprising to me. I would have thought that after dreaming of that moment for an entire year I would be bouncing off the walls! Not that I mind having gone with the more toned down excitement.
Our time in London was fun. We took the tube into the city and spent over an hour simply walking, trying to get our bearings and find the best route to the "main attractions". We finally received some much needed help from a man who was visiting from Spain on an extended stay who of which only had to say "Ciao Obama" when we told him we were from America. We took the trolley to the nearest stop by Buckingham Palace had a nice walk around. There were tons of people in hats, everywhere, so we asked one if there was some kind of event taking place. Turned out the queen was having one of her annual garden parties and the requirement for her guests was they had to wear a hat. Very British.
Totally exhausted and drenched from getting caught in the rain we hurried to the underground tube so we could make our way to the airport. It was a long, but pleasant day.
I am so excited to see what tomorrow will bring. We are planning on going to rock of Ages in Mbiiko to begin our work for Hands4Uganda. We don't have a specific plan yet but this is Africa. Plans tend to fall into whatever God seems to have on His agenda for us so I am not worried. I learned two new words today, topapa, and kakana. You say both of them slowly as they are closely related in phrasing and usage. Topapa means "Slow down" and kakana means "Chill out". As Americans we tend to lean the opposite way of both of these words. We so often get caught up in the most efficient way and the least time consuming process that we forget to enjoy the journey of making the product. If anything that is a main goal I have for my team and I, to enjoy each part of the journey, whether it is boring, busy, hard work, easy work, sweat, rest, happy, sad. I want to embrace very part of this journey, topapa, and kakana.
Our time in London was fun. We took the tube into the city and spent over an hour simply walking, trying to get our bearings and find the best route to the "main attractions". We finally received some much needed help from a man who was visiting from Spain on an extended stay who of which only had to say "Ciao Obama" when we told him we were from America. We took the trolley to the nearest stop by Buckingham Palace had a nice walk around. There were tons of people in hats, everywhere, so we asked one if there was some kind of event taking place. Turned out the queen was having one of her annual garden parties and the requirement for her guests was they had to wear a hat. Very British.
Totally exhausted and drenched from getting caught in the rain we hurried to the underground tube so we could make our way to the airport. It was a long, but pleasant day.
I am so excited to see what tomorrow will bring. We are planning on going to rock of Ages in Mbiiko to begin our work for Hands4Uganda. We don't have a specific plan yet but this is Africa. Plans tend to fall into whatever God seems to have on His agenda for us so I am not worried. I learned two new words today, topapa, and kakana. You say both of them slowly as they are closely related in phrasing and usage. Topapa means "Slow down" and kakana means "Chill out". As Americans we tend to lean the opposite way of both of these words. We so often get caught up in the most efficient way and the least time consuming process that we forget to enjoy the journey of making the product. If anything that is a main goal I have for my team and I, to enjoy each part of the journey, whether it is boring, busy, hard work, easy work, sweat, rest, happy, sad. I want to embrace very part of this journey, topapa, and kakana.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Goodbye United States...Hello Uganda Africa!
And we're off! Almost.
It is currently 5:30 a.m. and my team and I are packed and ready to go. With passports, reservation numbers, malaria pills, sunscreen, and iPods in hand we are prepared to face Africa...and the 48 hours of travel it takes to get there.
I can now honestly say it's hit me. I am SO excited. After packing for almost a week, after cramming everything we possibly could into bags, after blood, sweat, and tears were shed (seriously) we are leaving. It's happening! God has blessed us so much with this opportunity and I cant way to watch and learn as my team and I grow in Him and in each other.
For those of you wondering we fly out of SLC to Chicago, have a 5 hour layover, fly to London, England, have a 12 hour layover (we will be taking a tour of the city, then fly to Enttebbe, Uganda where we will meet our hosts, Pam and Paul Hunter, and then, finally, we will drive two hours to Jinja, Uganda.
I will keep this updated! Thanks to everyone for their love and support.
It is currently 5:30 a.m. and my team and I are packed and ready to go. With passports, reservation numbers, malaria pills, sunscreen, and iPods in hand we are prepared to face Africa...and the 48 hours of travel it takes to get there.
I can now honestly say it's hit me. I am SO excited. After packing for almost a week, after cramming everything we possibly could into bags, after blood, sweat, and tears were shed (seriously) we are leaving. It's happening! God has blessed us so much with this opportunity and I cant way to watch and learn as my team and I grow in Him and in each other.
For those of you wondering we fly out of SLC to Chicago, have a 5 hour layover, fly to London, England, have a 12 hour layover (we will be taking a tour of the city, then fly to Enttebbe, Uganda where we will meet our hosts, Pam and Paul Hunter, and then, finally, we will drive two hours to Jinja, Uganda.
I will keep this updated! Thanks to everyone for their love and support.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
11
11.
The number I have now come to on the calendar of which has been counting down the days until my return to Uganda for over a year. Eleven more days until I and four others will board the plane that will take us to Chicago, London, then on to Entebbe, Uganda. Eleven more days until we will embark on a journey of a lifetime. Going to Uganda is such a privilege, a blessing. Travelling there last year changed my life, gave me a continued focus, and spawned Hands4Uganda. While this year I will be travelling with a much smaller team I know that with our five pairs of hands we will change at least one life. Show at least one person that they have a Father in heaven who loves them more than life itself. And that is worth the entire trip. The whole thing.
I never imagined I would be leading a team to Uganda at age 17. At age 11 my mother told me I would be allowed to go to Africa for the first time once I was 18. Obviously that was changed to me going two years earlier.
The mix of emotions I am feeling at this point is mainly overruled by the excitement of going. The team and I still have many preparations to make and things to do. Our largest feat will be packing, so many things, so little space. And we are still collecting things! Our biggest needs include items for packets we are hoping to pass out to the children at Rock of Ages including things such as clothes, shoes, toiletries, small toys, coloring books, stickers, and any kind of hard candy. If you would like to help us in our quest to make 130 packets visit
http://www.hands4uganda.org/News/sendagifttoyourchild for more information.
I will be updating this blog often as the trip approaches and unfolds. I ask for your prayers of safety and blessings, that this experience will not be taken for granted, that our eyes will be opened to Gods extravagant love, and that we will submit to His plan for us while there instead of trying to stick to our own agenda.
The number I have now come to on the calendar of which has been counting down the days until my return to Uganda for over a year. Eleven more days until I and four others will board the plane that will take us to Chicago, London, then on to Entebbe, Uganda. Eleven more days until we will embark on a journey of a lifetime. Going to Uganda is such a privilege, a blessing. Travelling there last year changed my life, gave me a continued focus, and spawned Hands4Uganda. While this year I will be travelling with a much smaller team I know that with our five pairs of hands we will change at least one life. Show at least one person that they have a Father in heaven who loves them more than life itself. And that is worth the entire trip. The whole thing.
I never imagined I would be leading a team to Uganda at age 17. At age 11 my mother told me I would be allowed to go to Africa for the first time once I was 18. Obviously that was changed to me going two years earlier.
The mix of emotions I am feeling at this point is mainly overruled by the excitement of going. The team and I still have many preparations to make and things to do. Our largest feat will be packing, so many things, so little space. And we are still collecting things! Our biggest needs include items for packets we are hoping to pass out to the children at Rock of Ages including things such as clothes, shoes, toiletries, small toys, coloring books, stickers, and any kind of hard candy. If you would like to help us in our quest to make 130 packets visit
http://www.hands4uganda.org/News/sendagifttoyourchild for more information.
I will be updating this blog often as the trip approaches and unfolds. I ask for your prayers of safety and blessings, that this experience will not be taken for granted, that our eyes will be opened to Gods extravagant love, and that we will submit to His plan for us while there instead of trying to stick to our own agenda.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
A second time around because God is SO good...
Exactly one year ago today I was learning to do laundry.
I had four wash buckets, green, blue, red, and yellow set out in front of me. With powdered soap in one hand and an empty jerrycan in the other I sat, staring at those colorful buckets. "Where do I even begin?" I remember asking myself a bit apprehensively. Then she came to help me. Sera, who I had come to call my older sister. Her dark hands taking the jerrycan from mine chuckling at what must have been confusion on my face she walked steadily to the water spout to begin the process that would take up the next five hours of our day.
After all four buckets were filled and the clothes, sheets, and towels were sorted we began. She showed me how to wet, wash, rinse, her hands scrubbing, and wringing in a fluid motion, a motion that had been mastered over the years spent caring for herself and others. After my clothes were washed and hung to dry, sheets were next. Large and hard to handle the two of us worked as one to complete the cleaning. Then towels. "Do we scrub towels in the same way?" I asked, eager to begin on the pile that simply seemed never ending. Smiling slightly in amusement at my American "Let's get this this done now" attitude, but with a look of something more to come in her eye she said "Here, hand me the towels. I will take care of them." Stubbornly, wanting to learn, I simply looked at her waiting for instruction. With the same smile on her face she pulled the cloth from my hands and looked at them. She inspected my palms, knuckles, and nails. Carefully pointing as not to make any contact she showed me where my pruned skin had been rubbed raw. "You see," she said,"my hands don't have to worry about that. They are hard from many times of scrubbing." Now beginning to take note of how sore my hands actually were from working the ever present red dirt out of clothes and sheets I looked at her in desperation. "I want to finish what we have started. Please show me how." Reluctantly she handed me a small washcloth saying "Here try this. These one's are for those in baby class. You are in baby class now. But help me again tomorrow and maybe you will be promoted to top class in no time. You are a quick learner."
So there I sat for one more hour in the hot African sun, feeling the cool water on my hands and arms scrubbing depleting the last pile of laundry to be done for the day.
Truly a simple experience. One I could have learned just about anywhere in the world where washing machines are not an every day household item, but one of utmost luxury. But I will never forget that day. How silly I must have looked, trying my hardest to not slosh water everywhere, to figure out how to wring mud out of a shirt using muddy water, and to impress my instructor who so ever patiently would take the clothes I had considered washed and would gently fold them back into the water, rewashing them for certain cleanliness.
In 33 more days I will be embarking on a new adventure. With plane tickets in line, a team pulled together, and the days flowing by at a faster pace than I can seem to keep up with, my return to Uganda has finally arrived.
There are many things I hope to accomplish. My main desire, my hearts cry, is to just live, love, and learn, all for Him. So many travel abroad to help, provide, and teach. I hope to do these things as well, but it is this that I have learned. By living one has the opportunity to do all of the above. By loving one has the opportunity heal and to be healed. By learning, well, one has the opportunity to do nearly anything. The possibilities are endless.
I live for Him because it is by His hand I have been made, by His hand I am cared for. I love for Him because it is by His love that I will never be alone, by His hand I will have everlasting life. I learn because it is by His hand I am given the opportunity to change the way this world is. I am small. But He has brilliantly planned how not only I, but each person in this world, can make this a better place. He watches us as we learn, stumble, and triumph. He watches us as we look at our work believing it is perfect, and He gently lifts it from our hands rewashing to perfection. He steadily scrubs and wrings the muddy water until we are clean again. What an awesome God we have. And what an awesome adventure He has allowed me to take once more.
I had four wash buckets, green, blue, red, and yellow set out in front of me. With powdered soap in one hand and an empty jerrycan in the other I sat, staring at those colorful buckets. "Where do I even begin?" I remember asking myself a bit apprehensively. Then she came to help me. Sera, who I had come to call my older sister. Her dark hands taking the jerrycan from mine chuckling at what must have been confusion on my face she walked steadily to the water spout to begin the process that would take up the next five hours of our day.
After all four buckets were filled and the clothes, sheets, and towels were sorted we began. She showed me how to wet, wash, rinse, her hands scrubbing, and wringing in a fluid motion, a motion that had been mastered over the years spent caring for herself and others. After my clothes were washed and hung to dry, sheets were next. Large and hard to handle the two of us worked as one to complete the cleaning. Then towels. "Do we scrub towels in the same way?" I asked, eager to begin on the pile that simply seemed never ending. Smiling slightly in amusement at my American "Let's get this this done now" attitude, but with a look of something more to come in her eye she said "Here, hand me the towels. I will take care of them." Stubbornly, wanting to learn, I simply looked at her waiting for instruction. With the same smile on her face she pulled the cloth from my hands and looked at them. She inspected my palms, knuckles, and nails. Carefully pointing as not to make any contact she showed me where my pruned skin had been rubbed raw. "You see," she said,"my hands don't have to worry about that. They are hard from many times of scrubbing." Now beginning to take note of how sore my hands actually were from working the ever present red dirt out of clothes and sheets I looked at her in desperation. "I want to finish what we have started. Please show me how." Reluctantly she handed me a small washcloth saying "Here try this. These one's are for those in baby class. You are in baby class now. But help me again tomorrow and maybe you will be promoted to top class in no time. You are a quick learner."
So there I sat for one more hour in the hot African sun, feeling the cool water on my hands and arms scrubbing depleting the last pile of laundry to be done for the day.
Truly a simple experience. One I could have learned just about anywhere in the world where washing machines are not an every day household item, but one of utmost luxury. But I will never forget that day. How silly I must have looked, trying my hardest to not slosh water everywhere, to figure out how to wring mud out of a shirt using muddy water, and to impress my instructor who so ever patiently would take the clothes I had considered washed and would gently fold them back into the water, rewashing them for certain cleanliness.
In 33 more days I will be embarking on a new adventure. With plane tickets in line, a team pulled together, and the days flowing by at a faster pace than I can seem to keep up with, my return to Uganda has finally arrived.
There are many things I hope to accomplish. My main desire, my hearts cry, is to just live, love, and learn, all for Him. So many travel abroad to help, provide, and teach. I hope to do these things as well, but it is this that I have learned. By living one has the opportunity to do all of the above. By loving one has the opportunity heal and to be healed. By learning, well, one has the opportunity to do nearly anything. The possibilities are endless.
I live for Him because it is by His hand I have been made, by His hand I am cared for. I love for Him because it is by His love that I will never be alone, by His hand I will have everlasting life. I learn because it is by His hand I am given the opportunity to change the way this world is. I am small. But He has brilliantly planned how not only I, but each person in this world, can make this a better place. He watches us as we learn, stumble, and triumph. He watches us as we look at our work believing it is perfect, and He gently lifts it from our hands rewashing to perfection. He steadily scrubs and wrings the muddy water until we are clean again. What an awesome God we have. And what an awesome adventure He has allowed me to take once more.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Lessons as of late
Life has been going so quickly these past few days. I feel like I have hardly had time to breath! As I begin my quest to be a more "well rounded" teenager and participate in more normal "teenager" things I find myself stepping more and more out of my comfort zone. People often make the mistake of believing I am brave. The truth is, I am not brave. I am only strong. And that strength does not come from me, but from my Father in Heaven.
Next week a few big things in my life, as of now, will be taking place. I will be going through the election process for Student Body President, taking my final in Health Professions which will determine if I will be able to proceed into the year two programs, my program of choice being CNA, and lastly ending the week with my very first shot at the ACT. I will also begin meeting for Jr. Miss. I never thought I would be a pageant girl! But then again I never thought I would be the President of a 501c3 at age 16 either. It simply provides me with even more proof to the fact that God has so much greater, grander plans then I have for myself, and that He truly does have a sense of humor.
All of these things are requiring that strength that He always seems so willing to give. Although I have given speeches, and presentations in front of crowds lager then 100, talked to news reporters, and journalists, my fear of speaking never seems to fade. Not only will I be speaking to the entire student body of Century High School, but also the staff, and an interview committee for the current student council. Public speaking is such a silly thing to get worked up about. The people sitting before you are simply people. Just like you. But in the moment that thought is rarely comforting! No, I find comfort in the same place I find the strength to do these things. I think that really, they are one in the same, strength and peace. When God grants me the strength to do something, along with that strength comes peace. He says to me "My child, do not fear these things. I am with you. I am here. I am."
On the student council forms it explains that student council officers must uphold a good reputation, no only in school, but in every aspect of life. It says "you will be living in a fish bowl and others will be watching you constantly." Sometimes I feel like I am already living in a fish bowl. God has given me a great responsibility. He has trusted me to be an older sister, a friend, a mentor, and a leader. I am so honored by Him. Sometimes living in that fish bowl can be stressful. I know that others are watching every move I make. They are listening to every word I say. They are judging me by those things. When I have people tell me I am their role model I have to laugh. Me? A role model? But you don't understand! I am to young to be a role model. I haven't really done anything important enough in life to be a role model.
I was caught off guard today when talking to one of my teachers about my grade in her class. I have an 88.6% which sadly is a solid B. I asked if there was any way I could raise my grade to an A, even if it was a low A. Our grades in that class will be sent out to the instructors of the CNA program I am hoping to get into. So having an A is kind of important!
"Ariane, don't worry about your grade," she said.
I waited in confusion. Did I really just hear my teacher say to not worry about my grade? Seeing the questioning on my face she proceeded saying,
"You are a wonderful student. I know where your heart is and I have written you a great recommendation for the program director, probably the highest recommendation I have ever written a student. You inspire me and make me want to be a better person. So don't worry about your grade. I am sure you are working hard to study for your exam next week and while that does not count towards this grade I know that with my recommendation, and the other things involved in the selection process, the director will be able to judge you for herself, the ending result being a good one."
There I was in a fish bowl and I didn't even know it. I was at a loss for words.
"Thank you very much. I really appreciate it," was all that seemed to come to my mind.
"It isn't something you can thank me for. It's simply who you are," was her only response.
I am in a fish bowl. But as Gods chosen people we all are. Others will constantly be looking at us because we have been called to shine the light of God in this dark world. I pray that God will continue to provide me with the strength to overcome my fears while I push forward in my quest for teenage normal-ness. I pray that He will remind all of us that when we are living in a fish bowl, particularly a fish bowl for Him, life will be difficult, but life will be good. Because HE is good.
2 Corinthians 2:14-15
"But thanks be to God, who always leads us in His triumph in Christ, and manifests through us the sweet aroma of the knowledge of Him in every place. For we are a fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and those who are perishing."
Next week a few big things in my life, as of now, will be taking place. I will be going through the election process for Student Body President, taking my final in Health Professions which will determine if I will be able to proceed into the year two programs, my program of choice being CNA, and lastly ending the week with my very first shot at the ACT. I will also begin meeting for Jr. Miss. I never thought I would be a pageant girl! But then again I never thought I would be the President of a 501c3 at age 16 either. It simply provides me with even more proof to the fact that God has so much greater, grander plans then I have for myself, and that He truly does have a sense of humor.
All of these things are requiring that strength that He always seems so willing to give. Although I have given speeches, and presentations in front of crowds lager then 100, talked to news reporters, and journalists, my fear of speaking never seems to fade. Not only will I be speaking to the entire student body of Century High School, but also the staff, and an interview committee for the current student council. Public speaking is such a silly thing to get worked up about. The people sitting before you are simply people. Just like you. But in the moment that thought is rarely comforting! No, I find comfort in the same place I find the strength to do these things. I think that really, they are one in the same, strength and peace. When God grants me the strength to do something, along with that strength comes peace. He says to me "My child, do not fear these things. I am with you. I am here. I am."
On the student council forms it explains that student council officers must uphold a good reputation, no only in school, but in every aspect of life. It says "you will be living in a fish bowl and others will be watching you constantly." Sometimes I feel like I am already living in a fish bowl. God has given me a great responsibility. He has trusted me to be an older sister, a friend, a mentor, and a leader. I am so honored by Him. Sometimes living in that fish bowl can be stressful. I know that others are watching every move I make. They are listening to every word I say. They are judging me by those things. When I have people tell me I am their role model I have to laugh. Me? A role model? But you don't understand! I am to young to be a role model. I haven't really done anything important enough in life to be a role model.
I was caught off guard today when talking to one of my teachers about my grade in her class. I have an 88.6% which sadly is a solid B. I asked if there was any way I could raise my grade to an A, even if it was a low A. Our grades in that class will be sent out to the instructors of the CNA program I am hoping to get into. So having an A is kind of important!
"Ariane, don't worry about your grade," she said.
I waited in confusion. Did I really just hear my teacher say to not worry about my grade? Seeing the questioning on my face she proceeded saying,
"You are a wonderful student. I know where your heart is and I have written you a great recommendation for the program director, probably the highest recommendation I have ever written a student. You inspire me and make me want to be a better person. So don't worry about your grade. I am sure you are working hard to study for your exam next week and while that does not count towards this grade I know that with my recommendation, and the other things involved in the selection process, the director will be able to judge you for herself, the ending result being a good one."
There I was in a fish bowl and I didn't even know it. I was at a loss for words.
"Thank you very much. I really appreciate it," was all that seemed to come to my mind.
"It isn't something you can thank me for. It's simply who you are," was her only response.
I am in a fish bowl. But as Gods chosen people we all are. Others will constantly be looking at us because we have been called to shine the light of God in this dark world. I pray that God will continue to provide me with the strength to overcome my fears while I push forward in my quest for teenage normal-ness. I pray that He will remind all of us that when we are living in a fish bowl, particularly a fish bowl for Him, life will be difficult, but life will be good. Because HE is good.
2 Corinthians 2:14-15
"But thanks be to God, who always leads us in His triumph in Christ, and manifests through us the sweet aroma of the knowledge of Him in every place. For we are a fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and those who are perishing."
Sunday, January 30, 2011
My heart is beating and my eyes are leaking
I look at the pictures. I see their beautiful faces beaming back, the sun lightly touching their skin, and an indescribable joy radiating from their smiles. I see the green green background, and the red red dirt. I can see it all, but I can touch, none of it. I can hold, none of it. But I can love, all of it.
I miss Africa. Okay that is an understatement. I am totally and completely homesick for Africa, a place that has never actually been my home. Every night as I lay in bed and my gaze wanders to my far wall where some of my favorite pictures of Uganda hang, my heart drops, my throat tightens, my eyes prick. The hot tears swell and before I know it, I am lost in a swirl of emotion. My wish to be there is more than a longing, it is a craving. I crave the thick, moist air. I crave the hot sun. I crave the constant sounds of life. But it is so much more than that. I crave the people. I crave their need, their hurt, and their sorrow. I crave their joy, their happiness, and their hope.
It is complex. But maybe not really.
In Uganda I find the two extremes. I find people living in some of the worst situations one can imagine. People who have seen the faces of starvation, neglect, and death. But it is these same people who live with the greatest joy one can imagine. People who know how to love, praise, and thank God for what He has provided them with in spite of what my own eyes would judge as really nothing much.
If I saw the world through the eyes of my heart, instead of the eyes of my head I think I would see things much clearer. I would be able to see that with indescribable hurt comes indescribably joy. Life is truly a paradox. One wouldn't feel loss after the death of a friend if they had never felt love for that friend as well. Or in my case, I wouldn't feel so homesick after leaving Uganda if I had never felt like I was truly at home there as well.
I can not wait for my return to Uganda. Although June seems so far away I am comforted by the fact that as I am typing this, even now, the time between me and my flight is shortening. There is only something like 135 more days until I leave. The only thing that makes my heart once again hit what feels like the bottom of my stomach is knowing that the sooner my time to leave here and be IN Uganda has come, the sooner my time there will come to an end and I will be sitting in this same spot, longing to be in another country that I have completely fallen in love with. Only the stretch of time that I will be able to return will be even longer then.
My mom tells me to focus on "what is, not what is not".
I am trying.
I know life there will go on and my life here will too.
But I have simply come to this conclusion, I need Africa more then Africa needs me.
I miss Africa. Okay that is an understatement. I am totally and completely homesick for Africa, a place that has never actually been my home. Every night as I lay in bed and my gaze wanders to my far wall where some of my favorite pictures of Uganda hang, my heart drops, my throat tightens, my eyes prick. The hot tears swell and before I know it, I am lost in a swirl of emotion. My wish to be there is more than a longing, it is a craving. I crave the thick, moist air. I crave the hot sun. I crave the constant sounds of life. But it is so much more than that. I crave the people. I crave their need, their hurt, and their sorrow. I crave their joy, their happiness, and their hope.
It is complex. But maybe not really.
In Uganda I find the two extremes. I find people living in some of the worst situations one can imagine. People who have seen the faces of starvation, neglect, and death. But it is these same people who live with the greatest joy one can imagine. People who know how to love, praise, and thank God for what He has provided them with in spite of what my own eyes would judge as really nothing much.
If I saw the world through the eyes of my heart, instead of the eyes of my head I think I would see things much clearer. I would be able to see that with indescribable hurt comes indescribably joy. Life is truly a paradox. One wouldn't feel loss after the death of a friend if they had never felt love for that friend as well. Or in my case, I wouldn't feel so homesick after leaving Uganda if I had never felt like I was truly at home there as well.
I can not wait for my return to Uganda. Although June seems so far away I am comforted by the fact that as I am typing this, even now, the time between me and my flight is shortening. There is only something like 135 more days until I leave. The only thing that makes my heart once again hit what feels like the bottom of my stomach is knowing that the sooner my time to leave here and be IN Uganda has come, the sooner my time there will come to an end and I will be sitting in this same spot, longing to be in another country that I have completely fallen in love with. Only the stretch of time that I will be able to return will be even longer then.
My mom tells me to focus on "what is, not what is not".
I am trying.
I know life there will go on and my life here will too.
But I have simply come to this conclusion, I need Africa more then Africa needs me.
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