Category: Compassion

After three solid days of intense experiences in Africa, we took a small plane (which was an intense experience of itself) to a spot about 250 miles away from Kampala, the only city in Uganda. The lodge we were staying at was powered by a generator. The nearest medical facility was six hours away on unpaved and potentially unsafe roads.

We were in the middle of nowhere.

And it was time to rest.

One afternoon, we took a ferry across the Nile River and then hopped in a small bus. We drove half an hour on the bumpiest dirt road one could ever imagine to Murchison Falls, one of the many wonders of the world. We then hiked another half hour to the very top.

Slowly we progressed on a narrow, rocky trail, dodging tree branches and mosquitoes along the way. We occasionally stopped at the most beautiful parts of the rapids, taking each other?s pictures, but for the most part, the hike remained quietest part of the trip.

As we reached the top of the falls, we passed several signs warning us of the steep cliffs and the danger that awaited. Nobody was scared. Everyone was in awe. We helped each other over the slippery rocks and finally reached the very top.

Our guides told us many people have died at Murchison Falls. There are no rails to stop you from falling over. It?s you. The rocks. And the falls. The beauty of water is transformed into something breathtaking. People become mesmerized by the unique blend of tranquility and power. Some to the point they lose footing and fall over.

Standing as close to the edge as our leaders and guides would let us, we let the wind carry the spray and slowly drench us. Any fears of falling, of accidentally swallowing the parasite-infested water, of getting ravished by malaria-carrying mosquitoes?had all vanished.

The hardships of the trip ? the pain we saw, the poverty, the brokenness?those things didn?t disappear or float away in the rapids of the Nile. But taking that day to rest?to go to a quiet place and be reminded of the incredible power of the Creator, if anything, more tightly knit His sovereignty and hope to the terrible things we did see.

Rest bound together the incomplete to the complete.

We cannot be dependent on ourselves and dependent on God at the same time. When we consider the practice of rest unnecessary, we also will inevitably lose sight of the necessity of God.

since our internet in uganda was maybe 14.4kb/s at its quickest was being consumed by fifteen passionate bloggers desperate to sponsor children, some of us are just now getting a chance to post some videos and other stories from the trip. including me.

first: watch this…

on the second day, we drove into a more remote area of the country to visit a project especially for educating and taking care of pregnant mothers and their children up to the age of three. each mother has a case worker who visits and checks in on the health, well-being, goals, and dreams of the caretakers and their children.

shannon, shaun, brian, and i took quite a journey on foot through this rural village until we reached the home we were to visit with the caseworker.

the home was immaculate.

way cleaner than my house has ever been.

carefully laid lace cloth graced every bit of furniture. another sheet of lace served as the front door.

the caseworker asked such detailed questions…taking notes in a very full, but organized folder.

she was asking about musa, the youngest child.

is he playing well with others? (yes…he loves to play ball.)

has he had fevers? (no…he’s been healthy)

have you made him any toys? she showed us several toys she made for musa. handwoven dolls and balls made from dried banana husks.

we asked what dreams she had for her children.

“i dream someday…my children will become doctors…”

when you trip over the toys in your house today, i pray you’ll think of the toys this mother made for her son. when you lock your door tonight as you get ready for bed, i pray you’ll think of the delicate lace sheet blowing in a small, ugandan doorway. these sights and sounds and thoughts have never left my mind…and i pray they’ll always remain with you, too.

we have so much. and these children need so little in comparison. just a little bit can truly make the biggest difference in the life…and the dreams…of a child.

over 350 children have been sponsored as a result of this trip. don’t let it end now.

it’s not too late. if you haven’t yet, please sponsor a child today.

it was really, really late on our last night in uganda. shuan, brian, keely, boomama and i needed to get to our rooms…but bats swarmed the outdoor hallways.

boomama, you see, is terrified of bats. and they didn’t like us a whole lot either. especially after shaun popped one in the face with his computer…

we made a mad dash for it…and we were dive-bombed…twice.

you know when you went to youth camp. they split you up from your best friends and threw you into groups with total strangers. you had no idea what to expect. but after the first few hours those strangers become fast friends, and before you know it, it’s time to go home.

in my inbox sits somewhere around 47 emails (most of them “reply to all”) from our group that went to uganda. of us talking about how we are all waking up at 12:30 am and staying up until 3 am. about how we’re struggling to adjust, but knowing reentry is all a part of it. about eclipses, crying, blogging, and…missing each other.

we went through a lot in a few short days. hundreds of children latching on to us. heads busted open. mosquitoes. meeting our sponsor children. eating weird things. bats. monkeys. aids clinics. no sleep. probably 900 bottles of water. kampala traffic. home visits. mothers. babies. stowaways. coke light. deet.

now that we’re all back home, it’s not the same.

my heart has been aching in so many ways. today, it aches for missing these amazing people.

(this picture was taken at lunch our last day in uganda. prossy is the beautiful woman in the middle. you can meet her here).