Category: Compassion

Practically 48 hours with no sleep. Give or take 40 hours of travel. One stop in the custom’s “lock up” (I am so criminal), two flight delays, and finally, I am at home.

Shaun made the most incredible video of our home visit I referenced earlier in the week about the family who lives in a 6×6 room…

Until my brain is functioning again, please watch it, and let it sink in.

As soon as I can, I’ll share with you the amazing number of children that were sponsored during the last week. Thank you all from the very bottom of our hearts.

Let me ask you this…on our trip, what has been the one thing that has stuck with you? That has burned something inside you you’ll never forget?

if you’re familiar with the myers briggs test, you’re familiar with the “thinker” and the “feeler.” i’m definitely a thinker. a thinker with empathy, but a thinker nonetheless.

sometimes i wish i had a little more “feeler” in me, but i think i’ve gotten used to the fact i don’t. it’s easy for me to envy those who do feel…who are moved by things so simply…i sometimes even catch myself thinking, “seriously? what is wrong with me…why can’t i feel the way she’s feeling…am i just emotionally blunted or what?”

it can be a very confusing place.

in the last week, we’ve been faced with things we’ve never seen/heard/smelled/touched/tasted. things that are heartbreaking. things that aren’t fair. things that are beautiful. things full of joy.

and…can i be honest with you? i am having a difficult time processing a lot of it.

the “thinker” in me has no idea what to do. what “feeler” i do have has certainly been pushed to her limits, as things have been burned into my soul for the rest of my life.

but really? i don’t get too fired up about anything. i can be passionate, but not overtly. i pretty much stay even-steven, taking things as they come and as they go. have i always been like this? for the most part, yes.

is my heart lazy? afraid?

or do i just not function in that way?

and is that okay?

in a few hours, we leave africa. and i know africa will never leave me.

but i think it’s somewhere stuck between my heart and my head.

and i just don’t know what to do with it.

the day the fed ex package arrived in my office, i fell in love. a little blue dress. neatly braided hair. and just a bit of a quiet smirk that said, “i may look harmless, but inside, i’m a rockstar.”

when i learned i would get to meet linet on our trip, i started counting down the days. i kept her photo in my backpack, so i’d constantly see her beautiful brown eyes. a few days before the trip, i went shopping for her and her family. because i wanted to travel light, i made a simple list of a few things, but by the time we were done, we had visited a couple stores, spent way more money than we had planned, and i did something i never had done before.

i broke down and cried in the middle of walmart. all because of a panda bear.

first, for those of you who don’t know me, i simply do not cry. at funerals, i may get a little misty, but it really takes something monumentally emotional in order for the waterworks to start (as if funerals aren’t monumentally emotional?)

but after digging through a few stuffed animals, i saw the one. a panda tucked behind some elmos and some bratz. i picked it up and the moment i took hold of it’s cuddly little paws i had the realization that in just a few days, i would be taking hold of linet’s beautiful little hands.

the tears began to fall.

this beautiful girl with hopes and dreams and friends who loves to sing and who is the smartest girl in her class and i would meet…very soon.

thursday, one by one, they introduced us to the children we sponsor. in a dress as white and as pure and as gleaming as a fresh snow with the same neatly braided hair and same quiet smirk walked towards me. i grabbed her tiny body and held it close, whispering my name to her and telling her how beautiful she was. i gave her some of my beaded bracelets so we could match and told her that every time i see my bracelets, i’ll be thinking of her.

she was so shy. it took a while for the quiet smirk to leave her face. we’d tell her jokes…try and make her laugh…but she’d keep her lips sealed tightly together, with only the corners of her mouth turned up.

finally, i asked dennis (who was translating for me) to tell her if she didn’t smile, i was going to tickle her. he leaned over and whispered something to her.

with those big brown eyes she looked up at me. i made the universal i’m-about-to-tickle-you sign with my fingers, giving her one last chance.

nope. lips locked. she was trying hard.

i had no mercy. i dove in and began attacking her ribs in a ticklish frenzy, and finally she giggled. ever so quietly, but it was certainly a giggle.

we played with my camera, took a few photos, and went through the gifts for her and her family. we blew bubbles with some of her friends, and her big toothy smile never left.

it was so hard to say goodbye. i told her how proud i was that she was the smartest in her class. how beautiful she looked. how much i love her and that i’d send her some letters and photos right away. and how much jesus loves her too. how very very much he loves her.

carrying a bear and a large red bag that probably weighed more than she did, she walked away with the group she came with. i walked to our bus and fought back the tears.

 

 

i cannot believe the amazing honor and privilege i have to see linet grow up. to see her turn into a teenager. to hear about a boy she might like. to see her become even taller, stronger, and more beautiful. to hear about the things she learns in church, and to hear about how she’ll change the world.

i know she will change the world one day. there’s not a doubt in my mind. she’s already started…with a few beaded bracelets, and a fuzzy little panda bear at her side.

goosebumps ran up my arms in spite of the balmy african air. five of us sat at our dinner table, intensely focused on the story a man named vincent shared with us.

vincent is a graduate of compassion’s leadership development program. through the leadership development program, hundreds of students each year are energized, mentored and strengthened in their faith as they prepare for lives of leadership in their churches and communities. [read more here].

the twenty-something-year-old grew up like many uganda children. his father had married several times, and he lived with his father, step mother, and step brothers and sisters. when he was just a small boy, he worked in order to earn money to pay for his schooling. and he worked hard. his parents would never let him play and rarely speak.

“they suppressed me,” his quiet voice said.

on the weekends, he would visit the compassion project.

“it was the only time i was encouraged. instead of suppressing me like i was at home, they let me play. they let me learn. and i knew i would get a good meal on project days.”

someone asked, “so, if you never were sponsored, what would be different in your life today?”

he quickly responded, “if it wasn’t for compassion, i wouldn’t have found jesus.”

the story doesn’t end there. because vincent found jesus, his step mother, his sisters and brothers also found jesus.

your $32 does so in tangible, day-to-day ways. but beyond food, medical care, and support, your $32 presents the gospel to thousands and thousands of children.

in the last 12 months, over 102,000 children have entered in to the sweet, life-giving relationship with their father.

over 102,000 children have been wrapped in arms of peace and hope.

you can’t put a price tag on that.

but you can give a child a chance to hear about someone who loves him more than he could ever ask.

or imagine.

and for you, all it takes is a simple click. a simple click here.

please.

allow god to work in you and use what he has given you to make an ETERNAL difference in the life of a child, and quite possibly the lives of his family…today.

and this is with re-applying SPF 45 many times over the last couple of days.

today is one of those days i don’t want to end.

we started early, and headed to compassion’s ugandan central office. the professionalism, humility, and passion the staff shared literally glowed the moment we walked in. i was surprised to hear how many of them are reading our blogs…so to the compassion staff, thank you. thank you for teaching us so many things.

we spent most of the day at a project about an hour outside of the city…and let me tell you, i will never, EVER complain about oklahoman roads again. i have to admit, it was actually a pretty fun bus ride with everyone bouncing all over the place. things i didn’t even know i had jiggled!

at the project, we had the chance to see how compassion’s child survival program works…putting a special focus on meeting the needs of pregnant women, and their children from birth to three years old. we visited homes where we saw the program in place. workers from the project visit and help set goals for the family and the child, as well as provide for some basic needs.

after a very delicious lunch, we broke off into groups to help observe and serve within the project. carlos and i taught a group of kids the motions and words for YMCA and Jesus Loves Me…we served the smallest children a special milk mixture that helps both nourish them and give them energy…

and then we played. out in the back of the project is a huge, grassy hill (complete with cattle at the bottom) and overlooking the amazing ugandan landscape. sophie and i played a game of ball (and let me tell you, some of these girls could out throw ANYONE)…we blew bubbles, picked up kids, loved on them, and made a very slow journey back to the bus…with children latching on to any available spot on our bodies, screaming “BYE, MUZUNGU!!! BYE, MUZUNGU!!!” (which means “bye, white person!!!”)

i was tired. a little sunburnt. sweaty. smelly. really needing to use the bathroom. and really not wanting to leave.

about 20 feet from the bus, a nine or ten year old boy in a school uniform ran through the crowd, jumped in front of me, faced me, and gave me the biggest, tightest hug i think i’ve ever received. he simply muttered the words, “thank you, muzungu. thank you.” and then walked away.

to those of you who have recently sponsored, or have been sponsoring a while…allow me to say, thank you, muzungu. thank you.

contrast.

there’s so much of a contrast here.

we’re sitting in our bus, driving to another project, and no matter where it is i look, the contrast is striking.

the colors in nature…the rich greens and reds in the grass and the mud…and the unsaturated grey in the sky.

the cars and motorbikes that crowd the roads…and the goat i see about ten feet outside of my window…and the cattle that passed by our bus yesterday.

the skyscrapers in downtown kampala…and the rows of small markets of local vendors selling plantains and brooms.

we spent some time at a project yesterday with some of the brightest kids. this is a photo of henry and me. henry is in 7th grade. he is articulate, bright, and athletic. we stood behind the church which is under construction and he asked if things in america were constructed with wood or with steel. he told me about his sponsor family in the states.

“mr. and mrs. james peterson,” he said. “do you know them?” he asked with a spark of familiarity and hope in his eyes.

by the time we had finished touring the project and were about to leave, i headed back to talk to henry one last time. before i took two steps in the small lot where he stood with his friends, two little children in rags, wiping their drippy noses with dirty hands latched on to each of my legs.

while looking holding them tightly to me, i looked up at henry.

the contrast between these local neighborhood kids, who aren’t in the program, and the children who had been in the program for a while was more drastic than anything i had seen on the trip.

it is absolutely unbelievable what the $32/month mr. and mrs. james peterson so graciously provide does for henry. he’s educated. he’s healthy. he’s clean. he has a plan to go to university. “it’s only five years away,” he told me excitedly.

and henry isn’t the only one. there are over 900,000 other children like henry out there in the world. who have a shot at changing the course of history in their countries.

countries like uganda, hidden away between some of the world’s most volatile and violent nations.

i’m not going to beat around the bush. nobody’s telling us what to write about what we’ve seen. all of us on the trip know the communities on our blogs, and i know you guys don’t like fluff. so, here it is.

many of you are feeling what we are feeling. many of you are feeling moved. and that is great. but you have the ability to to do something about it, and do something about it now.

shaun said something great in our devotional time this morning with the ugandan compassion staff. compassion is not just releasing children from poverty in jesus’ name, they are releasing americans from our burden of wealth.

don’t hold on to your stack of cash any longer. it is needed here. it is needed now.

the link is up there on the right. find a child. sign up. it will take just a few moments of your day. don’t wait any longer. your child needs you now.

do it.

When’s the last time you spent $9? I think, for me, it was when I purchased lunch at the OKC airport on Sunday afternoon. A slice of Sbarro cheese pizza and the biggest bottle of water I could find.

After visiting one of the Child Development Centers and churches, we broke off into a few groups to visit homes of children who are being sponsored.

 

 

I wish this photo did it justice, but it doesn’t. This home was no larger than 6’x6′.

Just one room.

Just two beds.

And seven people to lay their heads to rest each and every night.

Annette is a single mother of six children. Her husband left her. He lives in the area, but they’re separated. He doesn’t provide any support for Annette or her six children, ranging in age from around five years old, to teenagers.

 

 

In order to make ends meet, Annette is a cook. She makes cassava and potatoes. On good days, she makes around $3 for working from dawn until dusk. Of that $3, only $1 is profit.

We also met her daughter, Brenda. Brenda is sponsored by a family here in the United States. The other five children, however, are not. Because of her sponsorship, her school fees are paid. Annette worries about paying for her other childrens’ fees. She knows they must go to school in order to break the cycle of poverty in which they live. She also has to pay for groceries.

On top of the school fees, Annette pays $9/month for rent. $9 for the tiny, six by six home where they live.

Brenda pointed out the spot on one of the beds where she sleeps. She wants to be a doctor some day.

There were seven of us in Annette’s home today. We sat shoulder to shoulder. Probably not unlike how tight space is when her whole family is home.

Taking a deep breath in…I let the air rest inside my lungs for a few moments before exhaling. The smells of the slum outside, the raw sewage in the small ditches along the roads, and the lack of hygiene of the people living in the area, as offensive as it should have seemed, I couldn’t stop breathing it in.

 

 

The reality that surrounded me in that moment caused my stomach to drop out of my body and land on the make-shift floor.  I sponsor two children. A little boy in Ethiopia and a little girl in Uganda. I imagine their home is something very similar to the home I was sitting in. That every day, they walk along the side of dirt roads, covered in garbage, livestock, and disease.

And they smile.

Because they know someone from Oklahoma City love them so very much. And more importantly, they know there’s a Jesus who loves them even more.

[[You can sponsor a child like Brenda today…]]

 

PS-There is so much more to write and show. We are having some internet difficulties though. I encourage you to check out the other bloggers to see what they’ve experienced so far. Hopefully, we’ll have a more reliable connection tomorrow.

ok…i am so NOT lonely. keely, my roomie…is awesome. and really, how can you be lonely with 15 of your closest, newest friends packed into a little van?

it is 3:16 am Uganda time and it’s time for me to go to bed. we will start our visits to projects tomorrow, so please keep us in your prayers as we are all going to be feeling the jet lag. we will have some videos and a lot more photos coming soon…

goodnight!!!