You've GOAT to be Kidding Me!

I want to start this with, "I've always loved animals..." but that would be a lie. I'd also be lying if I told you that I've always loved getting dirty, that I've always wanted to live a farmers life or that I enjoy smelling like I've just stepped out of a sewer. What I have always loved is learning, following the craziest path of adventure, and listening and obeying God's voice - no matter how outrageous the situation.

I've been spending a lot of time at my friend Casey's Grade A goat dairy farm, Jeremiah Farms. Though I love fellowship with Casey and the beauty of her sweet farm on Johns Island, SC, what I've been going for lately are the goats. Yes, goats. Recently when people ask what I've been up to and I try to explain that goats is what I've been up to lately, I get a series of reactions. Crinkled noses, confused eye brow raises, questionable "umm ok?"s are among the most popular, But it's the very seldom, "Really? Tell me more!" That get me excited...

I was excited when Casey asked if I'd help "goat sit" for her while her family took a much needed vacation to see family in Oregon. The fact that she trusted me with the daily chores of feeding, milking, and caring for her lively bunch was an honor. I've done this plenty of times with her, no big deal right?

I started on a Sunday morning and took an early morning 2 hour drive from Bluffton to Johns Island. As soon as I pulled up to the farm, it started to rain. Casey sent me some instructional emails the week before and I was quickly reminded of her note that "goats hate rain." I jumped out of my Jeep, put on my farm shoes and got to work. The drizzle wasn't so bad and actually felt good in the heat and humidity of the South Carolina morning. The does, the bucks, the kids, the dogs, the cats, the chickens and the calf were all fed so I started to set up in the milking barn to prepare to get all 9 of the girls in and out as easily and quickly as possible. As I disinfected and set up all of my milking materials I could hear the rain pound harder on the roof top. I sighed a little as I continued to set up, because you know, goats hate rain.

There's about 20 yards or so from the back of the barn to the milk barn. I set out to grab the first goat, ditching my umbrella and not caring about the steady rainfall at this point. With a little persuasion, Sydney was up in the milking stand ready to go. Maybe this won't be so hard after all... After each goat, the rain got a little heavier, the ground a little muddier, and each goat grew more and more stubborn. Needless to say, goats hate rain. It was taking what seemed forever, but slowly, one by one I was getting the job done. Spring, Skylar, Cookie, Glory, Lucy, Cora, Libby, and... and... Joanie is probably the most stubborn of God's creations I've ever met. No matter how I tried to coax her, she would not budge from the corner of the barn. After about thirty minutes I sent a text to Casey. I sat in the barn feeling defeated. "She must be milked. If not, she could develop mastitis. Drag her out kicking and
Screaming, I don't care. Just get her milked!" Was Casey's response. I was soaked from the rain already. I took a few minutes until I physically and emotionally rolled up my sleeves. Joanie was going to get to that barn and she was going to be milked! I was determined.

By this time I could have sworn I was in the middle of a hurricane. The rain hammered down, thunder so loud and lightening so close I jumped with each clap and strike. I pushed. I pulled. I pushed her from behind. Pulled her front legs. Wrapped my arms around her entire body and tried to drag. Nothing. I could see through her eyes that she was laughing at me, but I was not going to let her win! Every muscle in my body was now in pain. I had blisters forming on my hands from her collar. I was covered in a sloppy, soupy mixture of dirt and manure. At one point I was pushing so hard, my feet slipped and before I knew it, I was riding Joanie right on back to the back of the barn! I finally got her close enough to the barn door that the mud river forming worked to my advantage. She couldn't get a good footing and with every last bit of strength and energy I had, I pulled her to the milking barn. She hopped up on the milking stand and as I latched her in, I collapsed to the floor. I was on that barn floor for at least two minutes, laughing hysterically! I was filthy. I was now drenched in some uneven combination of rain, sweat, and tears. When she was finally finished being milked, I bottled the goods for the day, cleaned up, and ran to my car. I smelt like something that had just crawled out from under a compost pile. I was finally on my way to a warm shower and a nap. What should have taken about 45 minutes took almost 2 hours. I laughed the whole way to my friends apartment, calling my mom to tell her how I had just wrestled 9 goats in a hurricane. She laughed at me, of course. I learned many lessons that day, but the biggest and most important one being... goats hate rain. :)

I'm telling you this story for two reason. One, so you can hopefully laugh at me and picture this spoiled, manicured blond knee deep in goat mess (haha!), but also to tell you about where my heart is. If you ask me what I'm doing right now, the answer is "goats." I'm reading about them, dreaming about them, learning all I can about them, milking them, and praying about them... I believe with all my heart that God is calling me to minister in Uganda using these wonderfully beautiful creatures. My prayer is to someday provide goats milk, and it's amazing nutritional benefits, to children in Uganda. Just Google "goats milk" and you will be blown away with what a super food it actually is! Malnourished children, orphaned babies, tiny ones whose mothers are HIV positive and unable to nurse, I want to give them an option other than death. It may all sound a bit crazy now, and there are times I ask God, "Are you sure?" But I have no doubt, that somehow, this is where my life is headed. Pray with me? It's a scary road, but I'd be foolish not to follow His call when He has been so incredibly faithful in the past. His desires are my desires and I can't wait to see how He uses me to change the lives of those He loves. So today I'm dreaming about being a goat farmer in Africa, but not trying to think about the rainy season that happens there every few months, because if you haven't heard... goats hate rain.

Pieces

I often compare my life to one of those 5,000 piece jigsaw puzzles. Every once in awhile, out of the blue, God hands me another piece. If you've ever tried to complete one of these puzzles, you'll understand exactly what I'm talking about... You see, some of the pieces have bright colors, defined outlines, and I know exactly where they fit into my life picture. Other pieces aren't so clear and when handed to me I often ask God if He's made a mistake. The strange shape or darkness of a particular piece confuses me. Just like those dark, difficult times that leave us confused as to why this is happening to us or why God will allow it.

But I have come to realize two important things about those pieces. Sometimes the meaning of those dark pieces are immediately clear, even if we don't want them to be (I.e. a change in jobs that is difficult but will lead to great possibilities.) Other times those confusing, dark pieces must humbly be set aside and God will eventually show you exactly where they go, even if it's years later. (i.e Sexual abuse transformed into a ministry to help others who have experienced a similar situation.) And then there are those pieces God uses  merely as connection pieces to bridge other life events and pieces of your life puzzle together; difficult yet extremely necessary.

I am thankful for all the little pieces I have stashed away in my pocket, both good and bad. Some I look at so confused but completely trusting God to work into my puzzlee in some amazing way for His glory. And other pieces, I get so excited about that they seem to want to jump out of my pocket at every possible opportunity! But each piece, I must patiently wait for the perfect time to let God use.

So far this blog has been all about pieces. My life has been all about pieces. But I feel Him moving, pulling things together now and I'm more excited than you could imagine! I can't wait for you to experience all these puzzle pieces coming together in my life with me!

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose." ~Romans 8:28~

Books & Bananas

You might remember the little story of the "banana boy;" a young boy in Uganda who I became friends with a few months ago. (His story is titled "Fruit of the Spirit" if you'd like to read his story in how he stole my heart.) Not only did this kid steal my heart, but I received many emails from friends and family at home telling me how he touched their hearts in some way. After I posted, expressing my desiree to somehow get this amazingly brilliant child back in school, I was contacted by two sisters in the US who eagerly wanted to make an impact and pay for Ashiraf's schooling. I was overwhelmed with joy! I spent my last full day in Uganda arranging Ashiraf's schooling...

Every Ugandan I introduced Ashiraf to expressed to me how important it would be to get this 8 year old back in school. He's whitty. He's brilliant. And most of all he has a spirit that screams determination to change the world. A good friend happily agreed to do whatever he could to get this boy back in school. This intailed visiting with Ashiraf's step mother, a Muslim women who spoke no English, visiting the school where Ashiraf was previously enrolled, and spending the day going back and forth from Walukuba to Jinja with 3 people packed on one boda (motor cycle taxi.) But by the end of the day, we ALL went to bed with a smile on our faces. School fees had been paid thanks to the love of "strangers" in the US, whose hearts were touched and tugged by the Holy spirit to act in even the simplist of ways to help one of God's children on the other side of the world. Every time I think about it I am overwhelmed with joy & love. The $200 donated not only put Ashiraf back in school, but paid for his books, and a meal plan (dinner had been his only meal every day.)

Ashiraf's school term ended after I returned home. He still sells bananas after school a few days a week. My friend is able to catch up with him from time to time so I get a frequent update on how Ashiraf is doing... out of a class of 83 students, my favorite little banana boy finished the term as #3 in his entire class!!! Tears form every time I tell someone this. Lol I'm like a proud mama who can't wait to see what becomes of this kid and how God will use him to impact Uganda.

Don't ever think that you can't make an impact. Your small donation, your prayers, your fundraisers, they make a difference. He hasn't called all of us to go to foreign lands to spread the love of Jesus, so I am happy & excited to work as an ambassador for my community. God is still working y'all and I know it won't be long until I'm back with Ashiraf and all the other beautiful children of Uganda.

"Home"

I've been "home" for over three months and haven't written a post. I just didn't know how or even what to say. Yesterday I found this scribbled in one of my personal notebooks, ink running in certain places as a result of tears that fell on the pages while writing. Hopefully it will help you understand where my heart has been...

March 15th, 2014

Two days home and I'm already unsure of where I am. I wake up in the middle of the night completely confused.

I drove today and felt completely  backwards on the other side of the road. It took everything in me not to cut people off or drive in the grass around them like I've been expected to do for the past 6 months.

I stopped at Barnes & Noble where I  ordered an extremely overpriced coffee.  B&N used to be my little place of refuge when I was home when I longed for a little  peace in my soul.  I strolled around the store that I'd been in a hundred times before, but now I felt lost. The bright shiny book covers overwhelmed me. Whatever they were holding in the pages behind them, the "secrets to life," did it really matter?

Somehow I found myself in the "Travel" section. My eye shifted through the names of foreign countries written in bold fonts down the spines of the thick books. As my eyes only browsed, my heart was searching desperately. It wasn't there. No map, no book. Did it even exist? Is Uganda a place I dreamed up in my own mind that nobody here even knows about?

People ask me questions all the time, but then only half listen to the answer. Do they really care? And sometimes it's not the questions that  get to me. "I bet you're so happy to be home," they say, not even asking but telling me, because who could ever find happiness in a small little land-locked country in Africa? What "privileged" American girl could ever stay in a 3rd world country any longer than a few weeks without wanting to run back to her Starbucks coffee and Ugg boots?

I started crying right there in the middle of the Travel section of Barnes & Noble because it now hit me, I wasn't in my little Uganda anymore. And the little haven I thought I had here suddenly turned into a place just like the rest, a place that wasn't Uganda. I wiped away the tears and kept walking. I walked past the window and caught a glimpse of my sparkly polished self in it's reflection. Just a few days ago I was knee  deep in red dirt, helping remove jiggers from little feet in the village and now here I am drinking designer coffee with a face full of makeup.

Readjusting is going to be much more difficult than I thought...

Just one day.

I was really praying for a “vacation.” I have literally gone through every God given emotion these past 6 month in Uganda and to be honest, I wasn’t ready to jump right back into my old American life. I needed a debriefing, some time alone with God to just breathe. But since I had spent every dime in my personal savings account while being here, I knew that a vacation wasn’t an option...

It was an emotional day on my way to the airport to return back to the US. It’s like I was right in the middle of some of the most exciting days of my life and I was having to walk away. On top of that I was suffering from some serious mysterious stomach pain which only got worse as my departure time neared. I was dropped off at the airport for my flight which was to leave at 11:30pm. As I went through the check in process, I joked with many of the workers that they’d have to push me onto the plane since I didn’t want to leave. “Then you stay!” they all said to me, but I knew at this point I didn’t have a choice. 

After all the hassle of checking in and finding a seat among the crowded lobby, it was announced that our plane was still in Rwanda with a cracked windshield from hitting a bird while in flight. Then about thirty minutes later they informed us the flight was canceled. They shuttled us all to a nearby hotel for the night while they worked on new itineraries. And that’s where I am now...

The hotel is beautiful. Easily one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever stayed. I laughed at myself when I got so excited about a real bath tub, air conditioning, and a TV. Even the site of a lamp and a full length mirror amazed me! I took another dose of my medicine, updated my friends and family of my “situation” and went to sleep. 

This morning I woke up to a full buffet breakfast and made new sweet friends. And now I’m currently sitting on the beach (yes the beach) enjoying the beautiful view, the sound of birds and a nice cool breeze. Just me and God. Exactly the "vacation" I had been praying for.

God has truly amazed me every single step of the way. Every step of my life has been laced with His mercy and love. And even today, if it’s just one day of a free vacation, I’m so grateful. It’s exactly what I needed. I’ve had the opportunity to see another part of Uganda that most don’t get to and to experience His glory yet again. It’s almost overwhelming. With each breathe I am breathing Him in. And with each breath I breathe out, I pray it’s not in vain but in full service to God because of what He has done for me, someone doesn’t even deserve it. “Lord I’m amazed by you and how you love me.”

Please pray for me as I transition back “home.” I’ll share with you now what I’ve felt for some time now... Uganda is my heart's home. This is where God has called me and as I’m back in the US I will be preparing to come back yet again. My heart belongs here. I’m thankful for your outpouring of love and support as I follow the life I know God has called me to live. 

My name is Namudiba. This is my story...

"I am happy to say that I have a great husband. He works very hard for our four children and for me. Especially for me. Since giving birth to my children I have developed a horrible pain in my lower body that refuses to go away. Because of my pain I am not able to work. My husband is a borda driver and taxis people around on a motorcycle. He does not own the motorcycle and at the end of the day must give most of the money he has earned to the owner. What we have left after that is very little. We have no money for school fees for our children. The money we have is used to take me to the hospital. After many times being at the hospital, the doctors are still clueless as to what might be wrong with me. I just want to feel well so that I can help my husband and send my children to school. Please pray for me."

-Good health care for women in villages is very rare in Uganda. Though a health center may be near, it can be costly for them to go. For example, a woman giving birth must BRING with her to the hospital four pairs of plastic gloves, a large plastic bag or sheet to lay underneath her, a large amount of cotton, and whatever else she thinks she may need. Nothing is provided. Though the cost for these materials ends up being less than $10, most women cannot afford that. Many of these women are left with horrible complications after childbirth that can cause life long pain and even death. Please pray for Namudiba and women like her who have severe medical conditions with little hope of comfort or healing. Our God is a god of miracles. 

My name is Ruth. This is my story...

I married very young. I was the second wife to my husband who has now passed away. Together, we had 8 children but I have had to bury 5 of them. All of my daughters are now dead. They were murdered. The youngest was killed just last year while attending university in Nairobi. The others were killed in different ways by their co-wives. I now care for 6 grandchildren on my own. It is difficult to find money for school fees for them all yet I am blessed that two of them have found sponsorship. Still, we struggle. I am still praying for help with the other four. I am too old to work and some nights, I don’t have a place to sleep. After my husband died, my co-wife started abusing me and took away my home so that her children would all have a place to stay. She says I am worthless and cursed since most of my children have died before I have. But maybe she’s right. One of my daughters bodies was dug up after she died by a local witchdoctor. I don’t know what her body was used for but the village has now called me cursed because of it. I am only growing older and my body is failing. I am afraid that my grandchildren will be left alone on this earth. Please pray for me.

-Thank God for grandmothers. It is very common for a grandmother in Uganda to raise multiple grandchildren. The reasons this happens can range from the children’s parents living in other areas to work, death of one or both parents, or abandonment of the child by their parents. We see the grandmother taking in her grandchildren often because of her immense love for them. However, because they are older, can’t work, and must stay home with the children, they can not provide financially. Often times this leaves the only choice to abandon the younger children and put them in an orphanage. As much as this grandmother loves her grandchildren, she simply can’t provide. Please pray for the jjajja’s of Uganda, raising their grandchildren and praying that they will be tomorrow’s leaders, producing change for their country. 

Getting my feet wet.

God’s paths aren’t always crystal clear. (I think we can all vouch for that.) BUT His paths are always right. 

While in Uganda I went through what I consider one of the most difficult trials of my life. I won’t go into details, but in the process of this trial I lost a dear friend who I considered a sister. I pray someday there will be reconciliation, but for now she refuses so I will let God do that work... However, this trial had me on my face begging God to show me the next step. I was lost. I felt completely abandoned. And though I love Uganda, it didn’t help that I was 8,000 miles from home. I didn’t have my girlfriends to cheer me up. I couldn’t get a hug from my mom or a big bowl of gumbo to warm my soul from my dad. It was literally just me and God.

In my devotions this morning I read about Joshua leading the Israelites across the Jordan River. After Moses died, Joshua took over in leading the Israelites into the Promise Land. Most of us know the story of Moses parting the Red Sea to flee from Pharaoh. Well, time came again and it was now Joshua’s turn to lead his people through a large body of water. Only this time it was a bit different...

Joshua instructed the priests to carry the ark of he covenant into the water and for the Israelites to follow behind. No staff was struck into the river with giant walls of water like we see in the movies with Moses. THEY HAD TO GET THEIR FEET WET. They had to walk straight into the fast flowing river if they wanted God to do His work. It was only then that the waters parted and a strip of dry land stretched miraculously from one side of the river to the other.

When I went through my own trial, I wanted to go home. I saw a giant raging river in front of me and I was terrified. We read multiple times in scripture how the Israelites contemplated turning back so many times, even though turning back meant a life of hardship and slavery. They were afraid, they felt abandoned by God, and they were tired. That’s how I felt and I was ready to go back to the comfortable and familiar. I pleaded with God to show me my next step, but He didn’t. Instead, I had to step out into the unknown, into the raging waters. I put full trust in Him that I wouldn’t get swept away in life’s river. 

The first few steps were scary and I feared the current of life would sweep my feet right out from under me. But the exact opposite happened. God created dry ground for me to walk on, just as he did for the priests carrying the ark of the covenant. I may only see the path one step at a time, but He is still guiding me, as long as I am obedient and trust Him. 

I’m so glad I didn’t let discouragement and hurt get the best of me during my time of pain. Stepping out into the whirling waters has been the best experience of my entire life and I know it is what God had planned all along. I still stub my toe every once in awhile when I’m not fixed on His path and there are still days I wonder what would happen if I turned around and ran the opposite direction. But I know His plans for my destiny are even greater than my past. And I know that He will always guide me as long as I put complete trust in Him... as long as I’m willing to occasionally get my feet wet. 

Each and Every One.

In the little village of Idudi, just past Iganga, I spoke for my first time in a Ugandan church using an interpreter. It wasn’t much but as I stood before about 50 sets of beautiful brown eyes, THESE captured my heart. When I sat down, she silently crawled until she was sitting directly under my chair, then reached up and grabbed my hand. She touched every line on my palm, every fingernail, and counted the beads on my bracelet...

We were at a church in that cute little village meeting with women. We were told that it was a Muslim dominated area and that there would no doubt be a few Muslim women attending because it would be something for them to do that day. We started singing and the women slowly started coming in. Within 30 minutes, what was once an empty room was now filled with clapping and singing. Praises to God filled in the little bit of empty space that was left. 

For the past few weeks I have been working with Theresa Daley and the East Africa Women’s Rescue Center. I’ve accompanied Theresa and her partner, Pastor Godfrey, on some speaking engagements and have been blown away each time. This day wasn’t any different. It was a spur of the moment meeting that I don’t think any of us would realize would have so much power. Theresa is an amazing speaker, among other things, and as she encouraged these women through her message on love and speaking to them about why domestic violence in the family is wrong. 

60% of Ugandan women have been victims of domestic or sexual violence in their lives. And like violence all around the world, most of the time the violator is someone they know, someone they love, someone they trust. 1/4 of women in the US have been victims of this type of violence. So I’m sure that someone who is reading this knows the pain that over half of the women in Uganda are feeling right now.

As most of you know the ministries I have worked with in the past have mostly dealt with children, orphans. But most of these children have lost their parents due to domestic violence and abuse related issues. The father has left, one spouse has killed the other, polygamy has torn the family apart, a partner is not faithful and brings home HIV... so many scenarios. Too many. And many times when a Ugandan mother gives her child up, it’s not because she doesn’t want the baby, it’s because of other issues going on at home that are prohibiting her from being able to support and raise this child successfully. The problem in Uganda is not an issue of excessive children being orphaned, it’s a problem of broken families. 

Only 3 short years ago it became “illegal” to beat your wife in this country. Can you imagine the devastation caused to women in this country by just knowing that fact alone?

Theresa has a beautiful way of wrapping the love of God and His amazing mercy in her talks on domestic violence. I am learning so much from this power-house of a woman! As she ended that day in Idudi, she asked if there were any questions. A tall woman stood up and spoke in Luganda, “I have many issues I need help with. I want to speak with you in private. How do I do that?” All of a sudden the 50 women in the room started to buzz, whispering and speaking out things I didn’t understand. The pastor finally calmed them down and said spoke with them. Then he turned to us, “ALL of the women in this room have been defiled. They are going through many difficulties at home. They want to speak to you. They need your help.” Theresa and I looked at each other. All I could do in that moment was pray as those 50 sets of eyes looked expectantly at us for the answer. 

I plan on helping Theresa with a “clinic” within the next few weeks, ministering to these beautiful yet broken women. Please pray for us as we administer counseling, direct services, and spiritual guidance to women as young as 16 and to women who look like they could be as old as 100 and are still in pain over what has been done to them in the past. Please also pray for Theresa as she ministers to both these women as well as the leaders in Uganda. She has a heart for teaching and equipping those who have the most influence in their communities, the pastors, the missionaries, the leaders. We believe that the biggest difference will be made through them. Pray that they will have receptive spirits and that they will recognize right from wrong and instill these teachings into the lives around them.

I think about that little girl in Idudi. The one who so sweetly and quietly slid underneath my chair and traced the lines in my hand with her small little fingers. Who will she be someday? What will she have to endure before she’s my age, 25? And as morbid as it sounds, if Jesus doesn’t return in her lifetime, how will she end up taking her last breath on this earth? All of those things have to be considered when wanting to change a life. We want to meet these women right where they are and be a little bit of Christ in the best way we can. Emmanuel, God with us. 

I’m so happy that precious little girl heard Theresa’s message. I hope she grows up knowing the Lord and how she should be treated. I pray that she is a leader and a pursuer of all things just and good in her little community. I pray that justice prevails. 

Thank you Lord for giving me this opportunity to be a light. Give me strength. Give me your words and wisdom so that your daughters can be healed. 

Why God lets me #FAIL.

I didn’t choose to be where I am now. And that’s something many people (including myself at times) don’t understand. Yes, life is full of choices, you have to decide which path you are going to take but after about 20 years of people telling me “you can be whatever you want to be” I realized I should stop believing them. It wasn’t that I didn’t think I could be a marine biologist or a music producer, It wasn’t that I didn’t have it in me. I could see the potential in myself to achieve great things; I was (and still am) a jack of all trades but a master of none, or however that saying goes. However, after pushing and pushing my own dreams and never being fulfilled, I realized enough was enough. 

I’ve always grown up in church. At a few weeks old I was being toted around a Sunday School class room by my grandmother as she taught the young children all the stories of Jesus with a song to match. God was a part of me, but it wasn’t until later that I realized how much I was a part of Him. 

Years went by and I found myself torn between what I knew was right and what would make me happy. I perfected the good-girl image while concealing the rebellious worldly need to get my hands a little dirty every once in awhile. And it’s safe to say that even though that dirt has been washed off now, there are stains that will forever be there. 

I was about 20 years old when I realized I was seriously tired of it all. The choices I was making seemed to backfire in my face and that chase to find happiness fell to chaotic pieces every time I pursued it. I was worn out. That’s when I decided that I was finished deciding. I was tired of being independent, tired of sticking up for myself, and tired of making all these big life decisions on my own. I was ready to rely on someone else. But who? Every man I trusted ended up hurting me. Friends I thought would last forever had abandoned me. Yet I had never stopped praying. I still went to church every Sunday. And even though I had broken every one of the 10 commandments, I still believed in Jesus. 

This wasn’t the first time I found myself face down on the floor crying out to God, wondering where He was. He would pick me up every time, just long enough for me to regain my confidence and independence then strike out on my own yet again. When I say my own I’m talking about ME calling the shots, ME making the moves, and ME trying to figure out what will make me happiest in that exact moment in time. Know what I’m talking about? I was using God to regain my stability just long enough until my footing wasn’t as wobbly and I could take the first few baby steps again. And though He tried desperately to keep holding my hand, I shook Him off. “I got this.” I’d whisper to myself. But it wouldn’t be much longer until I had lost my footing again and I was back on my face crying and wondering why. 

That’s when I realized that the choices I was trying to make in life were not up to me. God had complete control whether I liked it or not. During that time I also realized that the more I felt independent and the more I thought I could walk out on my own, the further I walked away from Him. I would be so confident that I wouldn’t realized that His presence was slowly slipping away behind me and when I called to Him, I could barely hear His voice. Yet still He remained close by. Like a lion stalking it’s pray, He sifted through the leaves, silent. And at times when I called for Him, He didn’t answer, not immediately at least. Either His voice was so distant and being disguised by other lurking voices or He just sat there in complete silence, listening to every word, but He was always there. Somewhere. He knew I would fall again and that I would always need Him.

I’ve always hated the saying, “God will never give you more than you can handle.” And a recent blog a friend posted on Facebook perfectly explained why that saying is so false. You see, God will ALWAYS give you more than you can handle because YOU are not the one who is supposed to be handling it. YOU are ultimately not the one to change circumstances, change people, or change your destiny... God is. And through my years of struggle and being tormented by the enemy telling me I had to carry all the weight on my shoulders alone, I finally realized the truth. As God was following me throughout my life, He waited with open arms for me to pass some of my heavy load to Him. His strength can carry ANYTHING I feel is too much and so much more. So really the saying should go, “God will never give you more than HE has the power to handle in your life.” He WANTS us to place our worries on his shoulders. He’s ready like a mother with Neosporin and a band-aid to pick up the child, the toppled over tricycle, and mend any wound that we may have. He longs for the days we will call out His name

So if we fail, it’s ok. We learn. And it also gives us an opportunity for God to do amazing work in our lives. Failing is an opportunity for us to draw closer to Him. It may be difficult, but don’t be discouraged, He wants to see you succeed. And the closer you are to Him the more evident His voice will be in response to your cries. Won’t you just let Him do His job?

Sole Hope

Sole Hope Day 1

I’ve made a commitment to myself that I would expand and volunteer at as many places as possible during the remainder of my time in Uganda. Today was a day that I didn’t spend with the AFTC kids, so I took advantage of an opportunity to work with Sole Hope. You may have heard of them at home. Anyone can have a “Sole Hope Shoe Cutting Party” and using old jeans cut out a simple pattern that will then be shipped to Uganda and turned into cute, practical shoes. The shoes are made here in Uganda using the patterns and recycled rubber tires for the bottoms. Sole Hope goes into the villages once a week and holds clinics. They wash and carefully inspect the children’s feet for jiggers, an extremely harmful and disgusting parasite, removing them carefully from the tender little feet. A child with a bad case of jiggers will then receive a pair of Sole Hope shoes so that jiggers can now be prevented from entering their feet.... 

Today I took part in one of those clinics. 

We traveled about 20 minutes out of town through little narrow dirt roads. Children saw our van and ran after us. Some even jumping on the back and riding the rest of the way. We kept driving until the road ended. There was a large mud structure where we set up shop. I volunteered as a foot washer since I had no idea how to remove jiggers from little feet. We filled up water basins, set up benches and stools, and got prepared. The kids quickly lined up at the opening where I door would most likely go. The first child was placed in front of me. He was a tiny little thing, maybe two years old, and was filthy. He wore no clothes except for a little vest that was way too small for him. Sometimes it’s confusing to tell if a child is a boy or a girl since girls also have their head shaved, but this baby was definitely a boy, for obvious reason. After I washed his little feet he went to inspections. For about 2 hours I scrubbed child after child’s dirty little toes. I’d ask for a change of water frequently but by two kids later, it was as dark as coffee again. I wore gloves but could still feel the deep wounds, the past jigger scars, and the ones that were going to need to be removed. Some giggled as I cleaned in between their toes while other grimaced with pain as I used a brush to scrub away the thick dirt, jiggers buried deep in their skin underneath. 

Over time the line disappeared but the removers were still busy expecting little feet. I went and sat by one of the girls working very attentively on a young boy. His teeth were clenched and he squeezed his eyes tight but not tight enough for the tears to sneak out and run down his cheeks. The tracks of his tears were easily seen on his dirty little face. I held his hands as she removed over 10 jiggers from his feet. 4 of them in his heel alone. As he held my hands, I looked at his fingers. They didn’t look good. I could immediately tell that they were also going to need looked at. I showed the girl removing and she sighed. “Hands are the most painful.” When she finished with his feet, she wiped off her safety pin and razor blade and took his small hand. She started to operate and the little boy flipped out. Finally I picked him up and sat him in my lap and just wrapped my arms around him. This way he could sit more comfortably and I could hold him down a bit better. There were two in his thumb and after getting the first one out he was hysterical. I held him a little tighter, rubbed his back, and then sang softly to him. Immediately, he stopped screaming and I could feel his entire body relax. Even hours later, I could smell that kid on me. A combination of sweat, urine, and dirt stuck to me like the bright Micky Mouse sticker stuck on his cheek and even after I left the village I was thinking of that boy and all the others like him. 

 

What a blessing Sole Hope is and what a powerful thing they are doing for these children. I have gone back every Thursday now to help with their clinic. I plan on doing this every Thursday until I go home.

As you put your shoes on today, please remember the little feet in Africa that have no protection. Please pray for Sole Hope as they work to “offer hope, healthier lives, and freedom from foot-related diseases through education, jobs, and medical relief.” 

If you would like to host a Shoe Cutting Party, buy infant shoes for your little one, donate towards the purchase of shoes or just learn more about Sole Hope, please visit their website at www.SoleHope.com.

Fruit of the Spirit

After working with the kids today, I came home and met up with my neighbor, Laurie, to go for our biweekly walk around our little community. She’s also a mzungu (white person) like me from America who has been a complete God send for me while I’m here. As we were coming back up close to the house I asked if we could stop at the near by little market/shop to see what fresh produce they had today. I had nothing at home but tomatoes and onions so I was hoping to at least find an avocado or two to make some guacamole for supper or maybe a few bananas to fill me up until I could go shopping tomorrow. The shop is a quaint little wooden shack tucked under a pomegranate tree just down the road. Disappointed at their selections today, I bought 6 green peppers for 40 cents and we headed back home. 

The sun was starting to set. The street, worn red from dirt, was bustling with people on their way home from work, school, or the rugby field. Among the crowd was a small kid with a large metal saucer of bananas on his head. We stopped him and asked the price. “200 schillings each (8 cents) but you buy this for 4,000 ($1.60).” He pointed to the biggest bunch of bananas on his display. Since I was buying the fruit only for myself I couldn’t justify spending that much money on something I knew I’d never be able to eat before they went bad. “I’ll take 5. So how much?” This kid was cute, and seemed sharp so I wanted to challenge his math skills a bit. “Umm... hmmm... 1,000!” I smiled and picked out 5 of the stray bananas off his plate. As I was finding a 1,000 schilling note in my change purse he spoke again. “I won’t eat.” A sad look came over his face. We asked what he meant but he didn’t say another word. I gave him his money and Laurie and I were on our way. “What did he mean that he won’t eat?” “I don’t know...”

We chit chatted the rest of the way home and then realized while unlocking the gate to our compound that we were being followed. “Mama?,” a little voice behind us whispered, “Some water?” Laurie went in her house and came out with a water bottle, but by the time we walked back out to the gate, the boy was gone. Turned left, turned right, nothing. Our askari (guard) helped us track him down until I spotted his yellow bananas bobbing down the next street. I walked up to meet him, my hands still full of the bananas I had just purchased. “Here you go sweet heart.” I handed him the bottle of water. Immediately he took the bananas off his head and sunk to the ground. Little hands shaking he opened the bottle and started chugging, tears welling up in his eyes. Before I knew it, I was also on the ground rubbing his back. “What is your name? You're called who?” I asked. “Mpooya Ashirifa,” he said through gulps. I asked where he was from and about school. “I live in Walukuba West. (About and hour walk.) I have one older brother and one older sister. I love school. I am 8 years and in February I will be going into P5. (5th grade. Bright kid!) I’m not going to eat tonight. I have to sell all my bananas and it is already getting dark. I can’t go home.” My heart broke as his trembling hands put the water bottle to his mouth again and the tears trickled down his cheeks. 

I’ve been in my share of big cities, other countries, and big cities in other countries. I’d like to think I’m a pretty good judge of character. I’ve seen many miniature con artists in my day looking to take advantage of your compassion and your wallet due to the color of your skin. Every part of me knew this kid was 100% genuine. I reached in my change purse yet again. “How many bananas can I buy with this?” I handed him 5,000 schillings ($2). His entire face brightened. “Mama, you can have them all!” He smiled and wiped his tears quickly, dug in the pocket of his apron and pulled all the money he had made for the day. He sat and counted it allowed, his voice getting faster and more high pitched as the number grew higher. “I have enough! I can eat. I’m going to eat when I reach home!” My heart melted. That when he told me his favorite food was rice and he knew his mother was making it for supper. I sat there for a few more minutes with little Ashirifa until I realized the journey he still had ahead and wanted him home before it was completely dark. I asked him, “Will you please walk with me back to my gate so I can get a cavara (plastic bag)? I can’t manage to carry all of these bananas on my own.” He hopped up and escorted me back to my gate. I tried to insist he wait there while I ran inside to get the bag but he was on cloud 9 and just giggled and smiled the whole way up to my front door. He stayed put there and I got a bag to fill with the rest of the bananas. I brought them back in the kitchen and frantically searched my cabinets for something small to give hime to eat since he still had a journey home. I found a bag of fruit snacks sent over in a care package from my mother. I had been saving them, for whatever special occasion you save fruit snacks for, but decided that they weren’t that special to me after all. “Here you go. You enjoy these while you walk home.” His smile grew bigger and bigger. He ripped open the bag and chattered all the way back down the driveway and to the gate popping one fruit snack in his mouth after another. 

I told him my name and shook his little hand. “We’re friends now.” I wanted to pick him up and hug him, kiss his little tear streaked face. How classic this scenario is in Uganda. An 8 year old is sent out, to walk miles, to sell bananas for his family. He’s paying for his supper and most likely paying for his own school fees also. I pray he is even allowed to go back to school in a few weeks and that his parents realize what I bright child they have. He will benefit so much more in school than on the streets selling bananas, but many times a parent only sees the immediate benefit, the money that needs to be made to put food on the table today. 

He walks through the gate and I tell him good bye. He looks down at his bag of fruit snacks, balancing his now empty metal saucer on his head, lets out a sigh and flashes me a big smile. “This is beautiful,” he says and turns away to leave. Yes child, yes you are. So beautiful.

I’m sure he will be back at my gate tomorrow with more bananas. :)

Please pray for the children, like Mpooya Ashirifa, in Uganda. Where poverty is a harsh reality and a task such as selling bananas can keep a child out of school and prohibit them from a truly prosperous future. And also pray for Mpooya Ashirifa, that he will grow to be a leader, a life changer, an amazing man of God, and a light in this country. And pray for me. That whenever possible, God will let me pass the little light of my candle to someone else, and that His love will continue to shine. 

"Don't be afraid..."

I couldn’t sleep last night. There’s been so much on my mind lately that it caused me to just toss and turn in the dark. Once again I was letting stress, fear, and discouragement take control of my thoughts. I finally switched on the light and grabbed whichever book was closest to me. “Voices of the Faithful - Inspiring Stories of Encouragement from Christians Serving Around the World.” Since it’s a daily devotional, I decided to read ahead for the next day, January 19th. The scripture at the top of the page read:

“I have taken you from the ends of the earth and called you from its most distant places. I said to you, ‘You are my servant. I’ve chosen you; I haven’t rejected you. Don’t be afraid, because I am with you. Don’t be intimidated; I am your God. I will strengthen you. I will help you. I will support you with my victorious right hand... Don’t be afraid; I will help you.” Isaiah 41:9-10,13b (NIV)

With that alone I got chills and my heart started racing. I kept reading. The devotional was written by a deaf woman named Sheri who serves in Central, Eastern, and Southern Africa. She painted a picture of how the fear of homesickness almost stopped her from serving on the mission field. After reading the above scripture, she handed that fear over to the Lord, and is now serving in multiple areas in Africa, ministering the hearing impaired. “Yes, I still experience homesickness, but the Lords sustains me through these times...” I could feel the tears starting to well up. I too get homesick. It’s not that I don’t love being here, and it’s definitely not that I don’t love the kids I work with, but sometimes it’s tough. I’m young. I’m single. (Not complaining.) And some days I’m an emotional wreck. It’s those days I end up slumping on the couch just wishing I could get a hug from my momma, just wanting to be home.

There was a prayer at the bottom of the page, “Father, strengthen Your servants who are homesick and meet all their emotion needs. Thank You that You will never leave us...” And after reading that, I not only felt a weight being lifted off of my chest but was filled with love. HE loves me and begs me not to be afraid. He will help me. 

I realized that it is ok to be homesick sometimes. I’ve tried so hard to hide my emotions and make everyone believe that everyday that I’ve Uganda alone has been pure bliss and happiness. It’s ok that it’s been rough at times. I shouldn’t feel guilty when I crave McDonald’s, or want to watch football with my family, or just want to put on my headphones and head to the gym. But I’ll be able to do that again someday. 

I want to thank the friends who have been encouragers during my time here. You have NO IDEA what it means to me. The people who send me sweet little messages that don’t just say “I miss you. Come home.” I know I am where God has called me to be but just like you get stressed out with school or work, I have my moments here too... they are just a bit more intense. I’m no superhero. Just a normal girl who loves the Lord and I pray that every day I have positively impacted at least one life.

What was also encouraging, that as I laid there at 3:30am Uganda time (8 hrs ahead of my East Coast friends) I realized that whoever was going to be reading from this book, this devotion today, would be praying for people like me. Wow! People all around the world would be praying for ME and MY homesickness! So I want to also ask you today, please keep me and all other missionaries who are out doing God’s work in your prayers. Some have found home right where they are, while others, like me are new to this or just have those days that they wish could spend time with their loved ones. Or get some Starbucks.

You all have really been amazing. Thank you for all your love and support. God isn’t finished with me here yet!

Joy & Love,

Haley