woman of valor

Standing in the doorway, watching her clean her own poop off the floor of the bathroom. Sheepish, delirious, scolded by the nurse, and barely able to stand. I help her up, and I tell her to wash her hands just as I flushed the toilet. She plunged her hands into the water coming out of the toilet to flush everything down, and I screamed “no! no! no! no!” and I showed her how to use the sink. 

Mumbling she looked at me, “Why would anybody poop in clean water?” She asks. 

I’d been called to the school to come take her to the hospital. I found her sitting in the dirt, one daughter in tears, her arms wrapped around her mom. Another daughter came running up to me and threw her arms around me and began to cry “I’m not fine, my mom’s sick! I’m not fine!” 

I wish I could say that I scooped her up and we headed straight to the hospital, but first I burst into tears. 

My strong friend; covered in dirt, mumbling nonsense, and stumbling to take a step. 

When we got to the hospital, the chaos ensued of trying to register a patient, getting her into a bed, the nurses beginning to panic after they checked her temperature, the doctors running in and bossing everybody around....They are all whispering “ebola, ebola, ebola.” 

I’ll cut a long night into a short story: the fever went down, she was diagnosed with a heavy infection in her blood (not ebola), she was put on medicine, and she started coming around after about 4 bags of IV fluid. 

The first thing she said when she sat up? 

“Auntie Mallory! How did you bring me here with such dirty feet!” 

That’s when my pleas turned to praise. 

I got her home that night, to many cheering and relieved children. 

Because if mom’s not there, nobody’s there. If mom’s not there, nobody eats. If mom’s not there, the baby cries. She works hard to provide what little they have physically. She works hard to teach what they can have spiritually: joy, peace, contentment. 

She is clothed with strength and dignity;
    she can laugh at the days to come. verse 25

Honor her for all that her hands have done,
    and let her works bring her praise at the city gate. verse 31

woman of valor. 

I sat on the floor and looked at all the food surrounding me and slowly added it up in my head. 

One kilo of meat = 8,000

One kilo of rice = 3,000

Greens = 2,000

Matooke = 4,000

Soda = 3,000 

Total: 20,000 Ugandan Shillings ($8) 

The sinking realization that my friend has JOYFULLY spent exactly half of her weekly salary on one meal to have me as a guest in her house. 

No longer treated as a guest, we can collapse on the floor of her one roomed house and watch movies for hours. We can cook together whatever we can find. We can laugh and pray and sing and have sleepovers. I can help her clean. I can wash my own dishes. 

I listened yesterday as she broke down in tears over the women in her village. Three of her cousins have been widowed in the past year. I watched her passion grow as she talked about her desire to help them. She told me that a few weeks back, she found bedsheets for 800 Ugandan shillings (30 cents) each and she went without food for the day so that she could buy each of them bedsheets. 

I looked at the large pile of clothes on her floor that she was sewing and mending to send to them. “Clothes are not to make me beautiful. God makes me beautiful. Clothes are to keep me warm and keep me from nakedness. I don’t care what’s on my body, as long as I’m not naked.” More than half of the few outfits she has were piled up to be given away. 

You can see what little she has, and you can wonder how she has so much to give away. I can tell you that she works harder than most women I know and it’s not for herself, or her daughter, or to put food on her table...only Jesus. 

She sets about her work vigorously;
    her arms are strong for her tasks. Verse 17

She opens her arms to the poor
    and extends her hands to the needy. Verse 20. 

woman of valor. 

what's good?

The other day I was in the Bible (I know that's a broad statement but I really can't place where I was) and I started reading about the second coming of Jesus. 

Would Jesus wear skinny jeans or the type of jeans that you've had for like three years but they finally have enough holes, are covered in an adequate amount of paint, and have managed to achieve the look of "rugged" so you can now wear them efficiently? 

That was my first thought. What's He going to wear? 

My second thought was extremely humbling. 

"I want to RECOGNIZE Him." 

Would I be too busy with my to-do list for the day to even look at him when I pass him by? 

(I'm really not trying to make this sound like a casting crowns song)

The past two weeks, every morning when I wake up to get in the word, I just end up staring at this verse.

"Love must be without hypocrisy. Detest evil, cling to what is good." 

-Romans 12:9- 

I want to SEE what is GOOD.

I want to HEAR GOODNESS.

I want to THINK on what is GOOD. 

I want my INTENTIONS to be GOOD. 

I want my EXPECTATIONS to be for His GOODNESS. 

I want to LOVE GOOD. 

I've been challenged to the core to stop and think about everything I do, say, and think. To examine myself, and ask myself "Is there good in this?" 

I want to RECOGNIZE goodness. 

Everything about Him is good. 

He is the definition of GOOD. 

I want to be all about goodness. 

We have control over our thoughts, our minds, our words, our actions, and what we dwell on. We always have the option to choose good. 

It's hard to let go of our worries, fears, and expectations; because they are something that we can control. The devil knows that we love to have control so he places those things there and watches us drown in fear and anxiety. 

It does not good for me to worry.

Or to pretend to be in control. 

Or to think that I'm so busy that I don't have time to smile at somebody passing me. 

God has been transforming my mind and heart to love good. 

When worry or fear come, to not even make a plan that I have any control in or to dwell in those thoughts, but to speak "Jesus I trust you." 

It's such a simple lesson. But is it? 

It's transforming my life. 

Aunt Sydney and Aunt Meggie celebrating at the last upper primary girl's bible study for the year. 

the rat.

There’s a rat that lives in our ceiling. he’s been spotted twice. the first time he appeared he climbed in the bathroom window when katie was in the shower, and you have never heard such a scream. 

“he was the size of a cat! not including his tail!” 

we tried rat poison, and we tried traps. nothing worked. 

every night for the past 10 months, the light will go off in our room, and we fall asleep to the gentle scratching, scuttling, puddling around, midnight adventures of our friend. 
sometimes it’s even a source of comfort in a too quiet house. 

we stopped trying to kill Reepicheep and most of the time we even forget he is there, unless it’s one of those nights where he sounds like he’s on a trampoline. sometimes we forget to tell people they’re first night with us, that can freak em out really good.  

a few weeks back, one of our boys was in the latrine out back of their house. telling the story later, he stuttered out, “the rat is 2 feet long, and it’s not scared of people!!” apparently, the rat had been approaching while the boy was trying to take care of his business, the boy tried throwing things at the rat, and it still kept walking towards him...and the boy ended up having to run away. 

We have a hole in the ceiling of our bathroom, which we assume is the rat’s way in and out of our ceiling. That night, I was FREAKED out. I made Katie walk with me to the bathroom every time I had to go.

 Unfortunately, it was ALSO one of those nights where at about 7pm I had realized i was dehydrated and I started chugging water. So we made many trips. 

I closed the bathroom door and I kept the light on. I wrote a note on the door to all the other girls that if they had to use the bathroom to close the door when they were finished. I copied Sydney and every time I had to go to the bathroom I would flicker the lights like a disco party until I was sure there was nothing in there. 

I lay in bed that night (as Reepicheep was up in the ceiling jumping up and down and doing whatever he does every night) having vivid day dreams and panic attacks about the rat falling through the ceiling, crashing through the mosquito net, and landing on my face. 

I was paranoid. I kept grabbing Katie’s flashlight and shining it on all corners of our room anytime I heard a noise. I almost killed our cat when it jumped in bed with us. 

Katie commented that she had never seen me so scared at something so small, and that big stuff should scare me and this rat shouldn’t - and that I should go to sleep. 

I KNEW that rat was there from the beginning. I tried to kill it, and failed. 

At times, I was COMFORTED by the sounds that it made.

It really wasn’t hurting anything right?? 

It was unseen and accepted. 

Until I saw it - and then I FREAKED OUT. 

That’s how my sin is. It dwells in my heart. I can’t kill it, and sometimes it comforts me. I convince myself that it’s not hurting anything. 

Then it comes out, and you see it:

It’s your frustration at a mom who wants me to take her baby to the hospital.....wait....why am I FRUSTRATED at this woman? Because I want to get home and e-mail my friend back? 

Then you see it. You see your sin come out. It’s ugly. It’s big. And you freak out. 

HAS THAT THING BEEN LIVING WITH ME THIS WHOLE TIME?? 

I wish I could say that I wake up every day and I love walking into the school and being tackled in hugs from every student there, but sometimes I just wanna get where I'm going. Or I wish that I didn't hate sitting in the hospital for five hours with one of your kids who may have broken his arm. And I wish when that mom who was telling me how sick she is was telling me, that I didn't groan inside about how this was going to mess up what I had to get done for the day.

Our sin is ugly. It's even uglier when it really comes out. 

I say all this to say...

We can start with a holy intention that doesn't end in a holy action because we don't carry it out the way we need to. 

We can start with a "i'm just doing this because I have to do it" intention, that ends in doing the right thing but not with holiness. 

We need to constantly examine our intentions and our actions. Examine our hearts. Examine our reasons. Seek purity. Seek holiness. Seek righteousness. 

Don't grow comfortable with the rat in your ceiling. 
Don't grow comfortable from 'doing' just because you HAVE to. 

Created to LOVE LIKE HE LOVED. Not do like He did. There's a difference.

From

From hungry to more than satisfied .... 

From fearing mzungus to loving new friends... 

From sick to all-smiles...

From beautiful to............oh wait, still beautiful. 

From SWAG to SWAGGER ....

                        From malnourished to FULL of JOY, PEACE, and FOOD

                                           From fighting by himself, to fighting with God's strength...

                                                  From the tiniest of classrooms.........

To expanding into the other side of the duplex where the school currently runs from this THURSDAY....
To a room for women's ministry and the women's literacy program....
To more space so our teachers don't have to shout....
To more room for our kids to grow fatter...
And to all of you! Thanks for lifting us up and sending us forward!

Big Hairy Chest.

I was a baby once.  A baby that cried a lot.  I think the doctors told my mom I had colic. For those of you that don’t know the definition of colic…

Colic- your baby will cry a lot because its stomach hurts.  CRY. A LOT. NON-STOP. CRY.

You’re welcome.

I was my mother’s 3^rd child, so I figure she had the hang of the mom thing.  But, then I came along.  I don’t have a memory of this because my brain was small, but she told me the short version.

I would wake up and cry.  I may fall asleep again for a short time and then cry again.  She would try rocking me, putting me in a comfy chair, reading me a book, taking a walk, etc… I was like a crying machine.  Then my dad would walk in the door from work.  My mom would then silently hand me off.

My dad would lie down on the couch, put me on his chest and just sit there with me.  Slowly, my need was met.  My discomfort and pain was eased and I would fall asleep.  I don’t remember what it felt like to have constant stomach pains and cry out for some kind of comfort, and I don’t know why it was my dad’s big, hairy chest that did the job.

This is what I do remember.  I remember getting on the plane a week ago saying goodbye to 10 crazy, brown children that had somehow become my own family.  I remember crying in our living room because my best friend who had been through all of it with me would still be standing there tomorrow without me.  The past year of my life has changed the way I feel, the way I think, and even the way I speak.  God has created something new in me and something new within the walls of that beautiful mess of a house.

As I walk the new, old streets of my life in Tennessee I feel pain.  A deep longing in my heart.  I ask myself over and over what this longing is.  I know I miss the 10 faces that leave at 7:30am for school and return messy and sometimes mischievous at 5pm. I know I miss being dirty and tan.  I know I miss the infinite amount of questions pertaining to strange rashes or coughs or stomach aches at the primary school.  I know I miss my roommates that kept me laughing and were always proclaiming the Lord’s GOODNESS. 

Just like a bald headed baby I am crying for something.  It’s not people or places or daily routine that is going to ease the ache.  It’s my Father.  The Father that has been with me from before I began.  Before the world began in fact.  So with each new, old step I take in my life of being a daughter, a 23 year old, a friend, and a mommy of odd sorts I rest on His chest.  Because that is what I was created to long for, that’s the only place I find true peace and wisdom.  I pray that the deep ache and longing continues to grow.  Whether I am dirty and tan, yelling for order among a crowded room of kids or whether I am in a big church auditorium telling others about it- there is only one place I find comfort, wholeness, rest, and restoration.    

“Whom have I in heaven but you?  And earth has nothing I desire besides you.  My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”

Psalm 73:25-26

my morning

Mallory rolls over at approximately 7:45 this morning. 

She lets out a groan and the cat jumps on her face. 

Too late for coffee but declared presentable, a grumpy Mallory gets ready to leave the house, but is intercepted by 10 hungry boys and a breakfast crisis. 

Crisis resolved, Mallory departs the house at 7:56, with a dreaded unwillingness to be inevitably stared at this morning. 

She gets about 200 feet past the house, and is approaching her first crowd of onlookers, who have stopped everything they are doing to stare at the mzungu that they see EVERY day (I hope you can’t taste my bitterness), and she sees a familiar face. 

With a feeble attempt to wave, she drops everything in her hands (Bible, water bottle, pencil, and money) into the mud, and 10 africans all stare and mumble “sorry.” 

Flustered, she collects all her muddy possessions and makes it another fifteen feet before she drops EVERYTHING a g a i n. The good news was this, this time the africans were a little louder in proclaiming how sorry they were, and the possessions lost a little mud in the transit. 

Mallory picks up her things, feeling like quite the idiot, not really sure why she was supposed to get out of bed this morning and proceeds on. Two minutes pass peacefully, before a group of africans are approaching. Looking up briefly, Mallory didn’t see the huge rock in front of her, and trips. 

Hands in the mud catching herself from totally falling on her face, tears in her eyes, curse words on her tongue, and her broken foot feeling like it would be better off if she went and kicked a concrete wall about 142 times; she bends over and scrambles to pick up her very muddy Bible, water bottle, pencil, and money. 

So when she reached the next corner, it’s needless to say that as 7 children ran up to her screaming MZUNGU MZUNGU; she was not in the mood to play happy, cheerful, Jesus-loving mzungu, and she stormed off....as best as she could with her newly acquired limp. 

She only slipped once more right in front of the church’s driveway, and she must have played it off really well, because right after that a van of men stopped and three of them proceeded to make marriage proposals. Mallory made an angry retort, in English and Luganda, she didn’t want there to be any confusion; and immediately regretted it as she turned around and a crowd of church goers (whom I will add, were also LATE to church)had stopped and looked to see who that sinning tongue was. 

She hurried in to church, trying not to hang her head, or show anybody how muddy hr Bible had become. 

Isn’t it funny how so many times we hate the thought of the journey? 

I’ve had a rough couple of days...I’ve been struggling with a broken foot, sick children, my own upset stomach and fever, and the departure of my best friend. I’ve just been in a funk. 

Last night, I declared FUNK NO LONGER and swore to myself that I was getting up for church in the morning. And after my treacherous journey, a seriously HUMBLED heart that sat down and prayed right when I got into church...my day did pick up tremendously, minus the guy standing next to me in church who kept hitting me in the face when he worshipped and the smell of fish from the market that started wafting in about halfway during the sermon and was making my already upset stomach do back flips. I got over myself, my distaste, my bitterness, my frustration, and I laid it all down before God. 

There are usually three feelings that I can have when I am dreading the journey, but I finally reach where I am going. 

1. Disappointment, the final destination is not worth it. 
2. That bitter taste in your mouth where you are really WISHING the journey hadn’t been SO hard, so that you could enjoy your destination better. 
3. Satisfaction, joy, peace, comfort, and accomplishment as you reach and you know that it was worth the walk. 

When God calls you to walk somewhere, you will not be disappointed. That means option #1 only is applicable when you really want a home-grilled burger topped with mom’s homemade tex mex sauce and real CHEDDAR cheese, and you settle to go to Java’s in Kampala, where you’re not sure if they know what well-done means and you know that the cheese is going to disappoint you. 

Option #2 is the result of usually when you’ve packed too much. The journey has been too hard, because you’ve been carrying all your junk. For me, it’s this entitlement that God has been working with me on. I do not deserve to walk perfectly. I do not deserve not to have people stop everything they are doing to stare at me. I do not deserve to walk by and have nobody yell at me. I do not deserve to have a day uninterrupted, because I have been working so hard serving God’s children this week. HA! I’m judging myself by works and not faith. And when I don’t leave those things behind before I start walking, they will get heavier, and heavier, and heavier, and heavier....to the point where when you reach you are sweating too hard, too out of breath, too tired, too annoyed and perturbed to finally enjoy where you have reached and the whole time you are thinking WHY did I bring all this JUNK? 

Option #3 is what we receive when we walk after surrendering all our junk, “For none of us lives to himself, and no one dies to himself. If we live, we live for the Lord; and if we die, we die for the Lord.” Romans 14:7-8. If I’m walking, it’s for the Lord and not for myself. That makes it easier when people yell at you, stare at you, get in your way, laugh at you when you stumble, and are talking behind your back about you to their friends. 

We KNOW and BELIEVE that we are not walking for ourselves, not for our satisfaction, not for our glory. We know and believe that we will not be walking forever, because we have a HOME and a destination with the Lord. 

And we know that when we are walking and we grow heavy, we have either picked up something or someone that we are not supposed to be carrying with us; or we didn’t stop at Sonic and get a Diet Coke and rest when we were supposed to. 

Come and Listen.

All the boys are home this weekend.  So instead of the normal five boys here we have all ten.  It is usually a full house, but with this addition, we are bursting at the seams.  It is crazy, and loud, and a bit smelly in crowded rooms.  But more than anything- this house is ALIVE, JOYFUL, and FREE.  I have had trouble seeing these things because I have been under the illusion that I am too busy.  Too many meetings or too much paperwork or too much thinking.  God has been telling me to slow down.  To come towards Him and listen.  To come and see what He has done, what He is doing, and what He has promised us He will do.

Today I took the time to look, and I saw.  Today I took the time to listen, and I heard.

We set down as a family to talk about school, how our days are going, what we are learning.  We laughed, danced around and acted like kids, and sang.  At the end we prayed as a family and this is what I saw and heard-

"God thank you for rescuing us from the streets.  Please give us wisdom and understanding for our days.  May you be our number one.  Protect us always, may we always trust you." - Timothy

"God we know that even our biggest problems are nothing for you.  You can do anything and you will always be with us.  Thank you for our family." -Richard

"God we praise you.  Thank you for putting us in a school and protecting us." -Sam

"God, for so many of our friends on the street they have been sick and have died.  For some they are still there being abused and beaten.  But, we thank you God for picking us and putting us in a good home. We thank you." -Edwin

"God, thank you for giving us sponsors that help us go to school.  Thank you also for giving us food and a family" -Bwanika

"God, thank you for our aunties and uncles and for how they help us. Thank you for sponsors to send us to to school. Please help us learn to read better and glorify you." -Emma

"God, we praise you for our family. Thank you for such a loving family. Thank you for my brothers, my uncles, and my aunties. Thank you for taking us from the street and from our bad places. Thank you for your freedom." -Morris

" God, thank you so much for those that give us advice and wisdom.  I pray that we can practice these things in action.  Thank you for protecting us God." -Fahad

"God, for so many of my friends I don't know where they are, but I thank you for these brothers that are here.  Please protect us.  May we be strengthened by your word Father.  Nothing is impossible for you Jesus.  Break every chain." -Ivan

"God, please help us in our school work.  Please be with our sponsors and thank you for all of our family." -Fred

Thank you Jesus. Thank you for always seeing us in everything we do.  Thank you for hearing every prayer of every one of your children.  I pray that we never miss the opportunity to come and listen.  Give us the eyes and the ears to receive your Kingdom.

Thrown Back In

I just got back from the village. The house was left with uncles and aunties and good friends. I slept. I read. I slept. I talked with my Jja Jja (grandfather). I slept some more. I read some more. Then you know what I did next? I slept. 

I got to stare out at the STARS, because they weren’t covered by Kampala haze. 

I did a whole lot of nothing, and that’s what made the trip wonderful. 

I wasn’t really sure that I was ready to come back, I was quite used to sleeping 14 hours a day by now, but when I came home I was so welcomed by everybody (it was really quite ridiculous) that I just wanted to scream “I AM SO LOVED!!!!’

We hit the ground running. 

“We need money for this”

“This boy is in trouble”

“These papers need to be finished” 

“The 78 e-mails in your inbox need to be responded to” 

“Did you forget that you were supposed to do this today?” 

“This mom has been been abused and beaten up, she and her children are in a dangerous situation. What should we do?” 

See our house is quite full. I would say that we are filled to the brim. That we are overflowing, actually. To allow anybody else to come stay with us is really quite overwhelming to think about. It starts up a string of questions inside of me to God. 

God, where are they going to sleep? What are we going to do with them? Are we going to put her in vocational school? How can we help her find a job? How can we help her find her own house?  God, are you sure that you really want her to come stay with us? How long is she going to stay here? 

This mom is my friend. She is in danger. She and her children have been hurt, and will be hurt again if they stay where they are....and I’m trying to figure out her life plan? 

See, I like to think that if God calls me to do something - that I’m supposed to figure out the rest. That is He says ‘bring them home to a safe place, to my refuge, to my city on a hill,’ then I’m supposed to figure out how long she will stay, what her life plan is, who she will marry, and at what age she will leave this earth. I don’t know why I think that my sometimes pea sized brain works better than God’s.

He humbles me. 

Tells me to trust Him. 

I’m not going to know all the answers. 

Better yet - I DON’T NEED TO FIGURE ALL THE ANSWERS OUT!!!

“Then you will call to me and come and pray and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek with all your heart.” -Jeremiah 29:12

He listens to US. He hears us. And we find Him when we seek with our hearts, not with my pea-sized brain. 

God doesn’t make sense. He calls us to do the unthinkable: from loving the man who is trying to cheat you, to stretching to fit 3 more people in your house that already holds 23. 

He doesn’t call us to try to figure out what He is doing before we starting walking and trusting Him. 

He calls us to trust Him, start walking,and then seek: wisdom, discernment, understanding, and discipline.

I praise God that we have a family that stretches. 

I praise God that we have a family who has been helped and longs to help others.

I praise God that we have a family who gives up what is their own to help those in need.

And I praise God that we have a family full of absolutely crazy, Holy worshippers, mighty prayer warriors, selfless lovers of Christ; that get excited when there’s more people to love on. 

best part of my week

“I need a house. My 3 children and I are staying at our friend’s house but it’s not good, and I need the Lord to provide money for me to get a house.” -K

“I need my rent money, I’m scared my family’s going to evicted.” -B

“I need bedsheets and a mattress. Right now, me and my 2 daughters are sleeping on the dirt floor of our hut.” - J

A pause as the rest of us finish our prayer requests...

“You know, you all are beautiful women.” - Auntie Katie. 

They laugh...

“Glory be to God! We all have our problems but at least we’re PRETTY!” -B 

The best part of my week is not holding that precious baby with a sniffle

 or filling the 5 empty bellies that have come to school hungry and without food

or walking 7 special girls home just so they feel special

or seeing 60 smiles every day.  

It’s tuesdays

and thursdays

and saturdays

when I get to teach the mom that is fighting to get her baby medicine for that sniffle

and I get to laugh with 8 moms who refuse to let their circumstances define them

and I get to hear them learn to speak english as we have moved past ‘how are you’ and now say ‘what’s up’ 

and we have thirty minute, way off topic conversations about surrogate mothers and artificial insemination

and I get to watch them pick up things, whether it’s reading english or reading music, faster than you can imagine and then proclaim that it’s because the Lord is with them 

and I get to watch them have FUN, something that is unknown to most adults here, as they learn to play the drums under the instruction of crazy Auntie Katie. 

and I get to watch them earn their children’s school fees and take responsibility as they roll paper beads 

and I got to watch this bright light of hope flash in their eyes 

and it grew but it would flicker and fade

and now it remains.

and I stand amazed, in admiration, in reverence