A Tale of Two Rivers

It was a day where all my emotions hit me. Where everything blundered into me. The rain was heavy today for some hours this morning and let up only a little by the time I left my house for school. My brain was sleepy but I was happy to walk in the rain, says the girl from one of the U.S.’s sunniest of states. People here think I am crazy for loving the rain and rightly so; it is the flooding that destroys homes here.

Only two students showed up to school this morning because of the torrents of Kampala rain. Our schedule was disrupted and the afternoon was spent preparing for the end of the school term; writing reports and gathering “data” on the progress our students have made. After the students left, I and Caesar (the only male teacher at ECLAC) remained behind. That was when we were visited by a mother of a child with special needs. I greeted her and Caesar handled her business while I sat and listened. Since her boy is too old for our school, Caesar advised her and referred her to one of the lecturers from Kyambogo University’s Special Education program. He then proceeded to encourage her, letting her know she is not alone, that she should stay strong and continue trying to find the best possible place for her child, and that her boy is a child of God, made in His image. My eyes caught sight of tears on her cheeks as this mother listened, hanging on Caesar’s every word. She gingerly dabbed her eyes dry with her handkerchief as my own eyes welled up. East African’s don’t cry easily in public. My heart broke for her and for every parent like her. What it must be like to live in a country where having a child with special needs comes with many challenges, I can only imagine. How can we be so privileged to have so many resources in the States when mothers here are left without much help – especially those without money? How can these children and mothers be left in the dust? How can the Special Education programs complain about anything in the States when they are more equipped than programs here that are struggling? I don’t fully understand.

I tried to hold back the river of tears as I walked the muddy road home. This is why I am here. This is why I am in Uganda.

Back in my empty house, I was preparing to spend some time with God and wrestle with the heartbreak I was feeling, when I got a phone call. It was a friend from church who I’ve gotten close with over the past couple weeks. A call from her in the evening is not uncommon. I answered expecting the usual short conversation of her checking on me. Instead, I got her weak voice saying, “I’m not fine.” Hearing nothing else, I told her to come over to my house and wondered while I waited for her to come. Her knock brought me rushing to the door and my motherly instincts switched on when I saw her leaning on the wall. I pulled her inside and she collapsed into my chair. It took time for me to investigate the problem – she was weak and shaking, her breath was short and labored, she was writhing in pain, and I was at a loss. Prayer was first to come to my mind. My friend insisted she didn’t need the hospital and after I helped her with her medication, and I agreed to wait for a while to see if the symptoms persisted. Something in my mind told me she would be OK. I sang her songs and prayed more as I waited for my friend to stop struggling in pain in my bed, waited for the meds to work.

I didn’t try to hold the tears back as I held her hand and looked in her dazed eyes.
It sure hurts to love someone sometimes.

A phone call to her sister, a call to my watchman so he could escort us in the dark, and a walk to take her to the boda stage later, I gathered all the pieces of the event. It was an asthma attack. She didn’t remember calling me, her phone had no credit to call me but somehow the call went through, she didn’t remember coming to my house, or even having strength to get to my house…. I just witnessed the hand of God tonight. Only by His grace and mercy is my friend alive with her family right now. There is no other way to explain it. The realization brought me to my knees.

This world is full of pain and evil, sickness and disasters. I have all of these in front of my nose living in a developing country bursting with corruption and dishonesty – it is becoming apparent with each passing day. I’ve seen more disturbing things than I ever thought I would see before my 25^th birthday. My dependence upon the Lord is growing by the hour. I need Him. We need Him…. Will you admit that you need Him too?
                 

Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth,” for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God.  ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”    Revelation 21:1-4 NIV

At the end of all things, this is what God promises to those who choose to follow Him; no more tears or pain or unfair treatment. What is your choice? Do you want to trust a God who will ultimately make all things new and who will dwell with those who choose to trust in Him only?

He will wipe away every tear.
You can trust Him.
So do it now.

Prayer:

-Continued prayer for safety and health; not only for me but for my friends around me

-Pray for continued wisdom and boldness at school

-Praise for some changes at school (ECLAC) by God’s grace

-Prayer for teachers. They got paid for one month but they are still trying to live on little money

-Praise for God providing more female friends who inspire me in my faith, one in particular

-Prayer for wisdom as I continue to express my hospitality – to be culturally appropriate but also making sure I have time for my own rest.

-Most importantly, pray that Christ will shine through me despite my weaknesses and that I will take every opportunity to speak of His love and grace to all.

-See previous posts

Highlights:

                -The Assistant Chaplain at church whisked me away to her home after church Sunday. This was the most informal, East African home visit I’ve done in my experience and it was nice. I was able to get to know her and her family a little better. She even gave me a spot to have a Sunday afternoon nap. Who doesn’t love that?!

                -The Chaplain, the main reverend, gave a benefit concert at the National Theater. He sang, played the guitar, and saxophone.  A concert done Kampala style complete with dancers (my favorite)…nothing quite like it in the States. A friend came with me so I didn’t have to travel from town alone after dark.

                -Traveled to the other side of the city without getting lost and it went smoothly. It is SO nice to actually know what I am doing and how to live life here in Kampala. I can surely say that it now feels like it is my home.

                -Went to the post office to pick up my first package from home. Thanks to all who contributed! There is nothing like getting mail. :) P.S. Handwritten letters with encouragements and lots of love are my favorite. Just saying.

                -Took more liberty at school this week with good results. Working out some student behavior issues with the teachers is always an accomplishment.

                -I am feeling more like myself now that I’ve gotten to know the culture and my relationships have grown closer. That’s a big help because I can be so reserved to the point of suppressing my gifts and talents the Lord gave me to use.  Today I actually had an opinion while the other teachers and I were having a conversation – lately I’ve had nothing to say but plenty to think about.

                - Now that words are coming, I feel that I am ready to be more open and talkative, and “assertive” at school. I finally have more of an idea of what I can do to help with this program. And my team leader should be back soon from her gallivanting around the globe to guide some of my ideas.

                - Spending my Palm Sunday in Uganda was a highlight. ‘Nuf said.

                - Every time I run into a friend on campus or in Banda (the town closest to Kyambogo University), no matter how I am feeling, it will put a smile on my face. A testimony of the love God has for me – despite my many, many faults and sins.

Culture:

I have a very interesting placement in terms of the people I am around. At church, I am around university students who are growing up in a city that is changing. Their culture is still there but since they are young, they are more open and influenced by new ideas and people. It almost reminds me of my days at UNC. They answer my questions about culture much differently than the older generation in Kampala and are more forgiving of my mistakes.

Then I work with older Ugandans who still hold onto their home culture strongly and have much stronger opinions about what is acceptable in terms of cultural norms. When I ask questions about culture, their answers are more definitive and I have learned to follow their instructions rather than those of my university friends. It is always better to take cultural norms more seriously when you are being watched like a hawk because you're a foreigner.

Then there are those from the city. They dress like those from the west and whenever I am around that population, I forget that I am in Africa.

Blurb about Palm Sunday – In Uganda (at least at St. Kakumba Chapel), the congregation buys some palm leaves to bring to church. Then throughout the church service, the palms are waved in the air during singing and whenever there is clapping and/or cheering.

Luganda:

Ogenda wa? (Where are you going?). This has been useful for me this week! When I am at church passed dark, I ask people who are also leaving for home where they are going to see if I could walk with them. The buddy system is more critical when your skin glows in the dark and screams, “money!” to strangers. 

Jinja. Lake Victoria.

Jinja. Abbie and me. What a lovely, restful weekend.

ECLAC. Brushing teeth.

ECLAC. Tr. Caesar taking up the challenge.

I was ready for Palm Sunday at Kakumba. Here are my palm leaves!

Jinja. Visiting Amani Babies Home. Got to hold Anne.

National Theater in Kampala. Chaplain's concert the Kampala way.

ECLAC. Donated dolls. 

ECLAC. It is SO fun to brush teeth.

Jinja. Pterodactyls (well, birds) and a boda on the town street.

Jinja. More pterodactyls. You would call them that too if you saw one of these vultures fly.

Your Hands

Note:
Sorry that I’ve been a little MIA. It was a much needed break from blogging – I was starting to only write to write. Yet, I really want to be writing because God deserves the all the glory for the work at Kyambogo University and ECLAC

~

Psalms 16:8 - I have set the LORD continually before me; Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

Psalms 143:6 - I stretch out my hands to You; My soul longs for You, as a parched land. Selah.

Luke 4:40 - While the sun was setting, all those who had any who were sick with various diseases brought them to Him; and laying His hands on each one of them, He was healing them.

I remember well when I used to have nightmares as a child. The cassette tape that played as I laid in bed would snap loudly as it stopped, making my heart race almost faster than my imagination. Visions of kidnappers and other menacing characters jumping up to catch me would flood my focus. Uttering my mother’s name, quietly at first and then louder when her calming voice failed to be heard, brought her to my side. Her presence, her touch, and the smell of her skin would instantly give me peace. My small voice recounted the things that scared me and my mother’s response was always this: “Ask Jesus to hold your hand”.  Simple. She left my room, I opened my hand, squinted hard in concentration, and I tried to feel the hand of Jesus in my own hand instantly feeling safe.

~

Walking down the stairs through the basement door was a menacing mission full of possible dangers. Each step of carpet quickened my heartbeat with fear as my courage trembled toward the entrance. My eyes closed as I extended my right hand, palm facing up, and breath from my lips began to become short, loud, and hollow.  My concentration focused intently on feeling the tangible hand of an invisible God. I wanted so much to feel His touch as I faced the blackness that was the cold, empty basement. Whispering, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, take my hand.” And with my extended hand closed over the fingers of my Refuge, willing my whole being to feel them, I flicked on the basement light and felt the suspense scatter to live behind the walls.

~

Of course, the hand of Jesus is not as tangible as I wanted it to be when I was a frightened child, but it was a way I remembered that Jesus is always there by my side.

~

Hands. There is special importance and profound significance I’ve found with hands.

~

There is a story I recall that I had to read for school. It was telling about a girl who had rough, calloused, strong, and bruised hands; a stark contrast to the delicate hands of the other girls around her. However, her hands showed signs of her service to people. Those callouses and bruises were a testimony of this girl’s love, service, and obedience towards the Lord. The story concluded that the most beautiful hands are not attractive in appearance, but beautiful hands are those selflessly willing to be used by the Lord to love others. This story has always stayed with me in the vault of my memory ever since and it allowed me to become aware of the power of a servant’s hands.

~

My best friend and I made it a tradition to take a photo of our hands when we were in exciting places or during meaningful experiences together. We did not continue this for long, but revisited it when she married the man who would replace me as her best friend until death do they part. As it should be. Her finger glittering with happiness next to mine – hands that will always hold each other up in encouragement and understanding…even across the world.

~

As I have grown up, I’ve noticed that I’ve always admired my dad’s hands. Strong and wide. Height and hands are the only physical traits I seem to really appreciate in men and hope my future husband possesses (as silly as it sounds). Strong hands enveloping mine with support, love, and in unity with my heart.

~

The coolness of my mother’s hands brushed the hair off my face whether in tears or in fever. Her hands will always be a source of my comfort as she uses her hands for the work of the Lord.

Grandma B had the most interesting hands. Her middle fingers were slanted at the top and sometimes they would shake on their own. Yet, they were beautiful to me as she told stories of her life on the farm and stories of playing the piano at the barn dances. I loved watching her hands skillfully tend to her flowers and tomatoes. Her fingers would seem in their natural state as they pressed the ivory keys on her piano so effortlessly. Even when I held her hand for the last time in her hospital bed, her hands seemed precious to me.

And the hands of Grandma R as she rolls out Christmas cookie dough – gently stretching it as if it is fragile. Her fingers look so natural and skilled in the kitchen. Even as she prays for all of her grandchildren, her hands are still strong, folded together as she places her trust in Jesus.

~

It took me a long while to open up and allow people to listen to me sing and play my guitar. With a lot of coaxing and encouragement, my friends in college managed to get me to perform for them the song, Your Hands by JJ Heller. My hands plucked and my lips sang, “When my world is shaking, Heaven stands. When my heart is breaking, I’ll never leave Your hands.” The hands of God will always be holding you if you invite Him into your life. The song became the one people wanted me to play the most.

~

Sunday mornings I stand in St. Kakumba Chapel, the pew in the front next to a dear friend of mine, clapping my hands to songs of praise. Hands lifted around me. Hands pointing the glory to the One who is responsible for the countless blessings we’ve experienced. Hands folded in prayer – thankfulness pouring from our mouths and even the smallest of worries in our minds.
And hands shake mine with warmth and love. Sometimes the only physical contact in a day. Hands clasped together in various ways, uniting and binding, knitting together people who need the Lord. My hands receiving acceptance into the multicultural, multiethnic, earthly family of Jesus Christ our only Savior.

~

As my students welcome me to school, I take their hands to greet them. My grip willing the hand to accept love from my heart as I attend to their needs physically and mentally.
The teachers cleaning, cooking, and caring for our students with their own, tired, generous, abused, stressed, underpaid (if paid at all), faithful hands.
My hands, task driven, working under the grace of the Lord. His own hands guiding my own even when His are not tangible or perceptible. The King of the Universe will always hold my hand.

~

Those around me will never leave His hands.

                I’ll never leave His hands. And I pray that God will use these, small, white, imperfect hands for His work and glory.
                Amina (amen).

~

Prayer:

- Praise that the teachers I work with at ECLAC (the school I am volunteering at) have received at least one month’s salary. Prayer for the salary issue to be resolved is still needed.

-Praise that the schedule I’ve helped implement is still being followed.

-Pray for God to help me and give us (me and the teachers) ideas on what to implement next at ECLAC for the benefit of our students.

-Praise that God has given me two ladies who I have built stronger relationships with and more opportunities to fellowship with them. Pray for the Lord to guide me in hospitality and generosity.
-The above means that the "guy situation" is better. Pray that I will still be keen and aware of my actions around them.

-Praise God for continued safety as I’ve traveled here and there on public transport and while I stay in a large house alone.

-Continued prayer for me to keep saying “yes” and to obey God’s commands throughout the whole of each day. Pray for protection from the traps Satan can entangle me.

-Pray that the Lord will break my heart for what breaks His.
-Pray for continued learning opportunities for language and cultural learning! That my brain will be able to hold more information.

-Pray for my upcoming visit to the Assistant Chaplain’s house (from church). She has a son with special needs. Pray that I will be an encouragement to her and the others in her family.

-Pray for my plans to visit Kenya in May go smoothly and the Lord will work out timing.

Highlights:

-I hosted some of the Compassion International staff at my house. I made pancakes and hash browns (things not too foreign to them) and they “attacked” them. After, we prayed together and we sang some worship songs together. Cooking and serving people who have accepted me into their family has made this echo-y house feel more like a home.

-Traveled to Jinja with a friend, also from Africa Inland Mission, over the weekend. I accompanied her as she visited an orphanage she worked at years ago, and met up with old friends. We had a relaxing/rejuvenating time in this slow and steady Ugandan town bordering Lake Victoria.

-The Chaplain at my church gave me the Luganda name, “Mirembe” (meaning “peace”). Being given a Ugandan name is kind of a big deal, but this one seems to have been informal and a great way for the Chaplain to make me smile. Consequently, part of my devotions have recently been about God’s peace.

-My kitchen sink is fixed! I don’t have to use basins to wash dishes. The water able to travel through the pipes. And I have a gas stove with more than one burner working! Not necessary luxuries for me, but I am thankful for it anyway.

-My relationships at school continue to grow. I am still learning how to communicate effectively and respectfully…which I still fail at from time to time. Some of the students have shown so much improvement despite the lack of support they are getting. I have to keep remembering that the slower I help things change, the better.

-The Lord has provided so much encouragement from two friends in particular. They bless me beyond words have prayed that God will fill the house with His presence.

Culture:
           Similar to Kenya, Ugandans love their chai (tea). “All the time is tea time!” Almost everyone in the country breaks around 10 AM to “take tea” and eat something small like mandazi (fried bread) and other various eats (also usually fried). This is considered their breakfast as Ugandans don’t like to eat very early in the morning. I am pretty sure the importance of tea was one of the many influences left from the British.

Luganda:

                Kulikayo (welcome back) and the response is nvuddeyo (I come back). It is very common for someone to welcome you back after a trip to the market or any other outing no matter how short/long.