Learning to Live a Needy, Loving Life

Most of my time here in Uganda is spent with kids. It’s practically unavoidable. Back home I had my fair share of time around those of the younger age bracket, but it wasn’t at all like it is now. I could go to class, a coffee shop, work, friends’ houses, and run to the store without coming into contact with children. The life here is a different story. There are very few stolen moments throughout the day that I am not being sat on, hugged, having my hand held, jumped on, climbed on, being asked a question, pulled to go play a game, asked for a sweetie or water, tied up as the damsel in distress, or being shown something gross that someone has just killed, stepped in, or found laying in the bush. I live a very kid friendly life.

 In an effort of complete transparency, I find sincere joy in being around kids, but there are the moments that I just “need a break”. I don’t know how many times I have said that since I have been here. Before I came I couldn’t imagine every growing tired or exhausted by those sweet little faces that smile at you and shout “Jerdani! Jerdani!” (their version of Jordan). They have such innocence, spunk, sheer abandonment. Personal space or social boundaries do not apply to them. There’s no need to knock before they enter into my house because why wouldn’t I want to see them and give them a hug and play for the rest of the day until it's too dark to see on the walk home? Struggle is a reality in their little lives, but they still find the energy and excitement to run and play and shout and forget everything that is going on around them for those precious moments. My heart breaks every time that I give a kid that I have never met before a hug and immediately they are clinging to me for as long as I will allow and all of their trust has become wrapped up in this stranger who just showed them the first act of affection they have felt in days. Their world is small, but their love is large. They crave love. They need love. But don’t we all? 

Observing these kids as they eat, play, learn, interact, and live as children in a very simple world without electronics and media, has taught me so much about the basic needs of humanity; the bare essentials that we are sometimes too proud to admit that we need. I have realized that over time, I have become a very independent person who avoids admitting my need for others at the fear of looking needy or helpless. In my mind, as soon as you need the help or attention or care of others you are at the mercy of that person; which is unacceptable. I have been missing out on the joys that come from community and mutual care and concern. Sure, I have my few trusted friends that I would share my burdens with, but outside of that I would be hesitant to let on to any struggles taking place in my life. This is ironic seeing that I have a counseling degree and I’m always encouraging people to bring their issues into the light because that is the only place that they will find freedom. 

The people here in Uganda, in this village, depend on each other. They depend on each other for their physical and emotional needs. When someone is struggling or parents pass away, the kids are taken to an Auntie’s house or a Jaja’s (grandparent’s) house and looked after. There really isn’t any debate about it and the idea of Family Services is so foreign that they laugh at the idea. Of course you will take in your brother’s kids if there is any kind of need. Of course you will work another job to send money to your sister so that she can pay her school fees and finish high school. Self sacrifice for the community is assumed. There is no shame in asking and there is no pride in giving. I have to schedule time in each week to go and visit different people in the community because as soon as I begin to slack off I hear about it and they are wondering what is wrong because they haven’t had me drop by to chat. For all the years that I lived in the States, I can’t really remember just “stopping by” to chat with my neighbors, and I’m sure that they weren’t offended by that. Community is strong here; it’s an expression of concern and unity. It’s an expression of love. People want to be thought of and they want to be shown that you are making an effort to love them. It takes an effort to visit. It takes time, it takes energy to walk to their place, it takes stepping out of your comfort zone as you fumble through language barriers and cultural differences, it takes love for that person to put all that aside and put their needs before your own.

 In the first weeks that I was here I didn’t want to go visit people unless they had invited me because I thought that it would be rude to just show up. Maybe they were busy, maybe they didn’t want visitors, or maybe they would be with someone else and didn’t want to be interrupted. But I quickly discovered that if they were busy, I became busy with whatever they were doing, if they were relaxing, I would relax with them and chat and drink chai and eat some mango, and if they were with someone else I would jump into the conversation and potentially make a new friend to add to the visitation list.

 Life here is about community, literally you do life together, all of it. It’s beautiful and exhausting all at the same time. You are forced to bear the burdens of those around you. When someone is struggling, you feel their struggle, when someone is rejoicing you feel their joy, when someone is in need, you fight to meet that need. I have never felt so much a part of a community before. I have never been stripped of my pride and self-sufficiency in such a raw way. 

God has been teaching me so much about being transparent to those around me, pouring myself out to the ones I am surrounded by, and laying bare all of my boundaries and walls of pride and independence. Not only with those who I am doing life with, but also with Him. Many of my prayers have become declarations of my inability to help myself, admissions of my need for God’s mighty hand because I have no answers, no conclusions, and no solutions. God has been dealing with me in a faithful and gentle way. He is such a kind and wise God who pushes us to painfully tear off the pieces of ourselves that do not bring him glory and that hinder us from clinging only to him. I have been meditating on Psalm 30 lately and verse one has meant a lot to me when it says,

“I will extol you, O Lord, for you have drawn me up and have not let my foes rejoice over me.”

When the kids come running and shouting “Jerdani!” with their arms out and eyes shining trusting that I am going to catch them, or try my best, when they jump towards me, I can’t help but think about God as our Father drawing us into his arms. When I hold these little ones I just want to wrap my arms around them and give them enough love to last weeks and weeks until they can feel that kind of love again, I think about how the only place that we can find pure, true love that will never run out is in the arms of God. When I read this verse I think that sometimes we can be the biggest foes in our own life. We limit ourselves to love others and be loved by others, and we limit ourselves to know the true love of our Father. 

We were created to need love. We were created to love. We were created out of love.

More Precious Than Gold: Imperishable. Undefiled. Unfading.

I write this sitting outside with no shower for the 3^rd night in a row. No water. I am to the point that I am wishing for a cold shower right now. With how hot it has been for the past week the thought of the freezing water splashing all around me and running through my hair sounds like a spa treatment.

The honeymoon is over.

It has almost been 6 months since I landed here at Plot 157 Kubamitwe, Uganda; 6 wonderfully trying months. I have been encouraged, strengthened, pushed, and confronted in ways that I never expected. But no, really, most of this I didn’t expect. I expected the cold showers, no showers, bugs, lack of Target runs, and the severe absence of edible sushi. I expected to be challenged in my walk with the Lord, to grow in my faith, and to make friendships that would prove to be invaluable.

What I didn’t expect was the burdens that would be transferred from those that I have come to love to my heart. I didn’t expect to spend days and nights feeling as if my head is couldn’t hold one more thought. I didn’t expect the guilt that I would feel at the fact that I have never suffered as these people, that I have a seriously difficult time identifying.  

I have lost people close to me before, either to death or the fracturing of a relationship for one reason or another. I have felt the pressure to make ends meet when it comes to bills, tuition, rent, and groceries. I have been sick before, or known people close to me who have struggled with illness; but everything that I search my brain for and identify as some sort of trial pales in comparison to what those around me are dealing with.

Death, illness, broken families, hunger, anxiety, and depression are rearing their ugly head in the lives of those that I have come to love and been given the opportunity to minister to. Everyone has a story and not many of them have a happy ending.

A couple of weeks ago an elderly lady in one of my Bible studies lost her daughter to a botched surgery to remove the baby that she had just miscarried. Esther, the lady in my Bible study, has a heart condition which causes her to have a heart attack about once a month. Her daughter was the one who rushed her to the hospital, which is about 45 minutes away, each time that she would have an attack, and would provide the money for the treatment. Now that her daughter has passed away Esther is grieved because she has lost her daughter and anxious because there is no one who can care for her now. There is only so much that I can do in this situation. I can’t go and live with Esther, I can’t have her move in with us, I could pay for her hospital fees, but her village is about 30 minutes away from mine, so if she was to somehow reach me when she has an attack, it would take almost twice as long for me to get her to the hospital. This is when helplessness sets in pretty hard.

It is somehow difficult to go spend the day with someone in the village and help them wash their clothes by hand, pump their water from a bore hole, cook their meal over a charcoal fire, dig their food from their garden, and then sweep the dirt floor of their mud home and then go back to my cushy house that has running water, a stove, and even a new washing machine that I didn’t know how I was going to live without.

I have spent many nights praying and asking God to heal those around me. Heal them physically, spiritually, and relationally; but what I have come to see is that God can truly use suffering in someone’s life to bring glory to himself and to grow that person in their faith. I can’t count the number of times that I have heard this whether in church or a counseling class, but for the first time in my life I think that I actually believe it. I have actually come to believe 1 Peter 1:6-7 when it says, “in this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith – more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire – may be found to result in PRAISE & GLORY & HONOR at the revelation of Jesus Christ.”

I really believe that our suffering, no matter how severe, is only for a little while. I see how it perfects our faith which is more precious than gold. And I have witnessed those who suffer choose, through their tears, to praise and worship our God who is worthy of glory and honor. God has been teaching me so much about trusting in his future grace. He is using the suffering of those around me to grow my faith and he is allowing me to witness the heart change of these loved ones who are struggling with things that I can’t begin to imagine dealing with.

As soon as I begin to feel guilty for the life that God has given me to live compared to the one that he has given to those around me I remember that we are all recipients of a future grace that proves this life to be temporary. The focus is not on the things that we have in this life, but how we glorify God in this life and hope for the one that is to come. I have learned to go without many things, but I have also learned to be thankful for the resources that God has given me and use them as selflessly as possible.

A quote from John Piper in his book Future Grace has served as a great encouragement to me these past few months. It says, “Only if we trust God to turn past calamities into future comfort can we look back with gratitude for all things…Be strong, and do not doubt that God will be as gracious in the future as he has been in the past.” I shared this with Esther as we sat and recounted all the ways that God has shown her grace in the past, and I was able to witness her tears turn from sorrow to rejoicing, she was not the only one who was praising God through their tears that afternoon. He is so good. He is so very good beyond anything that I can imagine or understand. The fact that we serve a God who can take terrible suffering and turn it into a glorious thing brings me comfort that surpasses all understanding.

Believer, contemplate your suffering today, whatever it might be, and rejoice. Rejoice because God is a loving, powerful, sovereign God who is for you, and secured for you a hope that is in heaven.

Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls. 1 Peter 1:8-9

One of the nicer houses in the village. Bricks made by hand, built with love by the people who call this place home.

Cassava root. It looks gross, and sometimes it is, but it is a staple food around here. When in Rome...

Some kids from the nearby town. Who doesn't love a photo-op?

African Holidays

Seku Kulu Nnungi!! Time really does get away from you out here in the jungle; especially when it’s holiday season. So much has happened since my last post, and I’m terribly sorry that I have not been able to write any new updates.

But, the wait is over. I’m going to try and include as many pictures in this one as possible because I hear that they are worth 1,000 words or something…

The holiday celebrations here in Uganda are so so different from the ones in the States. There’s no electricity in the village so you can forget houses covered in Christmas lights, and snow is out of the question. So, you really have to get your head in the game when it comes to making it feel like Christmas is coming.

We started the season with a great Thanksgiving dinner with the SOS Staff, complete with chicken, mashed potatoes, squash casserole (to replace the sweet potatoes), green bean casserole, rolls, and pies. It was quite the task to cook it all up because we don’t have the modern conveniences from back home, so everything has to be made from scratch, including the onion rings for the casserole, and we can’t use a microwave or hand blender, so those mashed potatoes took some serious effort. But I have to say that the food was spectacular and we loved every minute of the 48 hours it took to prepare. I am so thankful for the family that I have out here in Uganda and their ability to bring a little bit of America to the jungle.

The American SOS Staff minus Laura who was taking the picture, and Nate who is hiding behind the Thanksgiving sign.

Pumpkin pie made from pumpkins fresh from the market.

Caramel Apple pie with homemade caramel sauce. De-lish.

Laura's famous dinner rolls.

The day after Thanksgiving we had a Christmas party at Legacy Christian Academy and the graduation ceremony for the kids. It was a huge event for all the parents in the village and the kids had been preparing for weeks leading up to the day. We had everything from poems to songs, skits, and dances. It was so sweet to see the little African shepherds and wise men coming to see Jesus in the manger built by one of the men in the village. When I wasn’t smiling from ear to ear at the cuteness, I was just thinking about how Jesus came to die for people from all nations. And even though we are all so different in culture, God can still be worshipped in so many different ways. But I have to admit, the African way might be the best…maybe I’m a little biased.

Go ahead, they are absolutely adorable.

My boy Tom. He just passed K-2 with flying colors!

Junior and his sweetie. I think that half the personality in the world was bundled up and put into this kid.

The church has been busting at the seams the past few weeks, we have seen so many new people come through our doors, and the messages leading up to Christmas have been pointed at everyone’s need for a Savior so we are just praying that peoples’ hearts are softened. The Sunday before Christmas we didn’t have Sunday morning church, but instead we had a Christmas concert that night. So, in order to be a part of the community and appease the demands of the villagers, I joined the choir. I had 2 weeks to learn 6 songs in Luganda and Swahili, along with dances. In the beginning I was convinced that I was just going to mouth some words and pretend like I was singing, but then people kept telling me that since I was the only Mzungu (white person) on stage, people would be watching me very closely so I had better get it right. So, I buckled down and I am proud to say that I learned each song along with its dance to the fullest extent. I can’t say that I looked like an African, but I sure sounded like one. In those moments I just laugh and thank God for the opportunity to not take myself so seriously and have fun with my friends. It was a great time. After the concert we showed the Nativity movie and served some popcorn with soda. It was quite the treat. That night might have been one of my favorites so far.

Daniel, Joshua, and Benja. Sunday school is always more interesting when they are around.

All I have to do is sit there and I am instantly surrounded with little hands putting my hair on their head and shouting, "Me a Mzungu!"

In the midst of all these holiday celebrations, one of the couples in our village had their wedding celebrations. Here in Uganda the man has to pay the dowry for his bride and they have to have an introduction ceremony as well as the modern wedding ceremony. The introduction ceremony is when the groom and his clan go to the house of the bride’s father and their whole clan is there and the groom has to be introduced to the bride’s clan or tribe. This is when the groom brings the dowry to the father and brothers of the bride. I was asked to be the photographer for the introduction, so I loaded up with the groom and his family along with chickens, fruit, coffee, and a very large cow and we started making our way to the bride’s father’s house. What would have taken us 45 minutes ended up taking 4 hours to get there because we had to stop so many times to pick things and people up along the way. That’s Africa for you. But we finally arrived; I put on my gomezi (the traditional Buganda dress) and got out my camera to start capturing the moments. What I didn’t know what that the speaker on the groom’s side had decided to make the guest of honor, so I was seated in the front with the groom as his sister and chosen to participate in multiple parts in the ceremony. It was just one other moment when I had to remember not to take myself too seriously. I was standing and sitting, kneeling, dancing, and giving gifts to different people the whole time. But the perk was at the end when I was invited to go into the house and eat the meal with the groom and his family. I have really come to love Ugandan food, and that was the finest of all Ugandan food, so I didn’t mind at all. 

This cow went on a wild ride to the introduction. I'm just glad I didn't have to sit in the back with him...

The gift presented to the bride's father and brothers. I think those poor chickens knew their lives were quickly coming to an end.

At the end of the ceremony, after 3 wardrobe changes, the bride served her groom soda and they danced around a little and then we headed back home.

The ceremony lasted about 4 hours. It starts with the groom’s clan arriving and the bride’s clan acts like they didn’t know he was coming and so when we all walked in they act surprised like they don’t know what is going on. Then the two sides sit to face each other and the groom sits in the back so the bride’s clan has to go and find him and put the proper hat on his head and coat around him. Once he is moved to the front with his sister, the ceremony can begin and different groups of people parade in dancing, gifts are presented, the bride is presented, the dowry is paid, and papers are signed. Basically, the father is selling his daughter to the groom’s clan. Daughters are big money makers over here. I pretty much had no idea what was going on most of the time, but I just did as I was told and took it all in. Ugandans are very expressive and colorful people. They will never turn down a good party and good food.

Fanci and Nsubuga after their wedding ceremony.

Lydia made such an adorable flower girl.

Fanci in her 5th dress of the wedding festivities. Cutting the cake always involves sparklers. I think I like it.

Life has been crazy around here. God has been doing some great things and he has been blessing me over and over again. I am getting to know so many of the people in the villages and they are welcoming me in with open arms. I have come to love these people so much and it didn’t take long at all. I pray that you had a great holiday season as well and were able to remember what a miracle it was for our Lord to leave his throne in heaven and come to live with sinful people like ourselves. Our God is so magnificent and loving. I pray that I can have that same kind of love for the people here in Uganda. Leaving America to come live in the jungle pales in comparison to what God did for us, but I have been so encouraged by his birth this year when I sit and think about it. I pray that God keeps me from forgetting how humble he was and that I would imitate that same humility even when the water isn’t hot, the power goes out, or I am just really craving some Chick-fil-a sauce.

When you can't get that Chick-fil-a sauce a fried grasshopper will do...you have to just go with what you have available on the side of the road.