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.