New Addition! - Letters From Uganda

I got my first REAL taste of what having your own children’s home is all about this week…

Last Wednesday, Deidrah received a call from the social worker, Mr. Opio. He had two little boys who were in desperate need of a place to live. One is six years old and the other three. Deidrah knew the three year old would fit perfectly in the home, but she said she simply didn’t have room. I came into the office just a few minutes later and she told me what Mr. Opio had wanted. “Are you kidding?!? Of course we have room!” I assured her that because Daphine  left just a few months ago, there was an extra bed and room in the babies' room for another little one. I quickly brought the bed from upstairs on the girls side to downstairs in the babies room. I sorted through all of 5 year-old Mark’s clothes to see if there was anything just a little too small for him in his closet. Within an hour I had set up everything for another one of God’s beautiful creations. I was beyond excited.

Little Paul came the next morning with one of the men who works with Mr. Opio. You could tell by the expression on his face that he was very scared. His mother had died just a short time back and now his father was in his last days of life, suffering from AIDS. Paul and his brothers and sisters had to be separated and taken to places where they could stay because there were no relatives who could care for the children. He sat on the couch, watching in amazement, the children from Nursery School running around. I took him in my arms and wanted to cry for him. He was fighting tears, but they never showed. Who knows what this three year-old has been through in his short life? I quickly learned that he spoke no English at all.

I’m not sure why, but for some reason Paul is attached to me. I can’t even talk to him! Maybe because I was the first one to show him any kind of affection or love since he was torn away from his family. Maybe because I’m the first white person he’s ever seen. Either way, he’s in love. He learned my name in the first day and follows me around wherever I go. He keeps a tight grip on my hand at all times. Jehiah, my “shadow,” has become very jealous. He loves to sing and dance. Sometimes he says things in Lugandan, the language he speaks, and I ask the older kids to translate it for me. He has the greatest sense of humor for a three year-old!

I took Paul to the doctors just a few days after he came. We just wanted to make sure he was ok and most importantly if he too was HIV+. At first, when trying to draw blood, the doctor couldn’t find a vein. He searched and poked and pricked for what seemed like eternity until he finally found one. Needless to say, Paul was not happy at this point. Since he had to sit on my lap, it took all my strength to hold him down and try to comfort him. I too was almost in tears.

We sat back in the reception area with little Peter and Junior, both seven years-old, who also had to come. Peter has a nasty wound on his ankle, that has become infected, and Junior has a nice case of ringworm the size of oranges on the back of his head. Paul quickly fell asleep in my arms while we waited for the results. That’s when it all really hit me; what if this child I had fallen in love with has the disease that is the number one killer of people in this nation? What if the cotton ball I had pressed against the pricks on his wrist was filled with the poison that can’t be cured? But then I realized, that really, I didn’t care. This was a child, a baby, that more than anything needs love. No matter what is wrong with him and what has happened, this child has no one else in this world to turn to. He’s God’s child not matter his circumstances. As I looked around the waiting room at the frail little babies and worried mothers, and heard the cries of yet another tiny baby getting tested for AIDS, I held little Paul a little closer, and just prayed.

The doctor eventually called me and led me to the very back room of the office. Uh oh. I looked down at sleeping Paul as I waited for the doctor to sit down. I couldn’t take my eyes off of Paul as his medical card was read aloud to me; “He doesn’t have malaria. He does have an iron deficiency, and will need supplements. His blood type is O+, and he is HIV NEGATIVE.” I smiled. Praise the LORD!

I called for a ride and waited outside with the two older boys. I said a prayer of thanksgiving for the blessing that had just occurred. I also prayed for all the mothers who have had to sit in that waiting room for so long, only to hear that their child wouldn’t live to see their 5th birthday. The stories I have read and seen on TV all became so real to me, too real, and they weren’t just statistics any more.

Please pray for little Paul. He’s quickly getting adjusted to his new home and his 25 new brothers and sisters, his new bed, three meals a day, and people that love and care about him. He’s getting comfortable, but you can tell on his face, that there is still something missing. Every child that ends up in this home is here for a reason. I can’t wait to see what plans God has for this little boy in the years to come.

The Little Red Sweater - Letters From Uganda

Hi everyone! Hope all is well! We are battling the flu here, but other then that we're great!

Sometimes God tells you to do things. Things that confuse you and you don’t understand at first. I ran into this while packing to come here. I was packing and going through a bag of little jackets that Liz Pfeil gave me from the Bargain Box. At the bottom was a little red sweater, girls’, size 6-12 mos. I knew that there wasn’t a child at this children’s home that size, and it would probably end up in the pile of clothes for a baby that might eventually, but not likely, call this place home. But for some reason God told me to make sure this little jacket got to Uganda . And you can’t argue with God…

Here, obviously, there is no racism. But there is tribalism. I don’t know the names of the tribes nor do I care to know them for it's of no importance to me, but the locals can tell by the way you dress, the way you talk, your body type, and skin complexion. Most employers even make you put your tribe’s name on an application, which will inevitably define your position with that company. At AFTC, they don’t do that.

We have a small field here that Deidrah is trying to start a little farm for the home to be self sufficient agriculturally and not have to spend so much money on sweet potatoes, cassava, and corn (maize). To help start with the digging and cultivating, Deidrah hired a man and his young wife. Again, I don’t know much about tribalism, but I know that these two are right along the bottom. I can tell by the way the others treat them and how they don’t come around others here or talk to the children. The wife, who can’t be any older than me, has a little baby who sits in a sling on the mother's back or sits in the dirt while her parents dig all day long. The baby is no more then 7 months old and very fat. Here, a fat baby isn’t always healthy and could be the result of many different health and malnutrution problems.

Weather is tricky here in Uganda, especially in the winter . Some days it’s hot and in the 80s or 90s. Other days, like today it's cold, wet, and rainy. Today was one of those cold rainy days and all the kids were ordered to put on their “new” jackets I brough for them and stay inside. The couple working and their baby outside couldn’t just "stay inside." They need the little money that they are getting paid and put in a regular work day. At the end of the day, the mother and her baby always come sit in the grass while the father ties up the work. Because of the weather, they came and hesitantly sat on the cold cement steps of our front porch. As I was reading and doing homework, I peaked out the window and saw them sitting there. Like every other day, the baby was in nothing but a little tee shirt. I knew her little body had to be freezing. I tried to just turn away as I’ve had to do so many other times in this country because there was nothing I could do. But then I remembered; The little red sweater! I scrambled to find it, and finally pulled it out. I started out to the front porch. I saw little Joelle looking at the little baby through the window, so I asked her to come with me. With Joelle in one hand and the sweater in the other I knelt down next to the mother. I knew she didn’t know English, so I said what every language knows well, a warm smile. I handed her the sweater and pointed to the baby. “Thank you,” she said hesitantly with a thick accent and with no second thought wrapped her beautiful baby girl up in warm red.

One of our Aunties, Auntie Agnes, came to me a few minutes later and asked if I’d “given the cold baby clothes.” I said yes. She went out and talked to the young mother who explained to Auntie Agnes to tell me thank you, and that it is such a blessing because her baby has no clothes except the dingy t-shirt she always wore. Through tears, I ripped through the pile of clothes that were too small to fit anyone here. I packed the few outfits in a plastic Dollar Tree bag and took them back out to her. I touched the baby whose little chapped legs had a rash up and down them, maybe bug bites from sitting in the dirt. I then shook the mother’s hand. I went back in the house and watched through the window as her husband approached and she proudly showed off the new sweater and the small bag of new clothes. He smiled and kissed his baby girl and then they were on their way home. It reminded me that even when things aren't clear, God has a plan and purpose for every one and every thing… even a little red sweater.

Letters from Uganda (5)

Happy 4th of July! Sorry it has taken me so long to send out the first email! Between being reunited with the kids, online classes, and all the other fun things that go on, I’ve had little time to just sit down and write! But PTL that I got my laptop hooked up this trip, and will able to send you pictures with my emails!

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It’s hard to believe that after six months, the other side of the world has barely changed. A few more babies are walking better and all are talking better. Even Michael, who is just 18 months, greets me every morning with, “Good morning Auntie Haley!” I was received back with open arms and questions of where I’ve been. A lot of the kids also asked where Noah was (my 8-year-old brother.) They heard all about him my last trip and even saw pictures. Since most of the boys are his age, they really wanted him to come! Noah has also been eager to meet his new friends on the other side of the world. But financially, it wasn’t going to work and he couldn’t spend 7 weeks away from his mama!

Since everyone above the age of 4 is in school, I have a baby parade follow me around everyday. Usually it’s a fight of who sits on my lap first and longest. Jehiah will sit on my lap and push all others away and say, “Wago! Wago!” I learned later from on of the Aunties that this means, “She’s mine!” Ruthie has now started saying it too. But since there’s only four of them, (Moriah 3, Ruthie 2, Jehiah 2, and Andrew 2), if I sit on the floor they can all have a lap to sit or a hand to hold. I love the mornings. I'm usually sitting in the office doing work, while just down the hall, the babies are sitting on their potty chairs. They all talk so well, and sing even better! Each morning I get a 2 year-olds randition of every praise and worship song, and even some in Lugandan. (Their native language.) I can't think of anything better. I'd take this beautiful music over the radio ANY day.

As many of you might know, I also work at a place called Cookies by Design. The owner, Ms Lou Anne Takach, had the greatest idea before I left; to make cookies for the kids! Every once in awhile they do get treats here, but never something like a giant sugar cookie coated in thick, sweet, colorful frosting! Friday night was movie night, so as the children sat watching, I passed out the cookies. I had to cut them in half though because they are way too sweet and delicious for children who aren’t used to a lot of sugar in their diets. They LOVED them! I must have received a million thank yous. They were even talking about it the next morning. I loved seeing their big blue and purple smiles as they enjoyed their treats.

Everyday God reveals more to me, but I’m impatient, and what he tells me is never enough. I want to know so quickly and so badly what it is that I’m supposed to be doing here. What purpose does he have for me in this little country? Please pray that God will give me patience to stop, listen, and take my time because God’s huge plans are not yet clear to me. I get so frustrated but I remember that He knows everything, and in time he will reveal His plans. For now, I can only serve Him and take the steps I need for a future in fully understanding and knowing Him. It’s ok to trust an unknown future to a known God.


'For I know the plans that I have for you,' declares the LORD, 'plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope.’ - Jeremiah 29:11