Guarding.

We won’t ever be enough.  We won’t ever have it all together.  There will always be new and more daunting problems that need a solution.   You most likely have found this out already if you have a job, a family, or even more so if you are following Jesus.  By the worlds standards we like to become “experts” or “professionals.”  You don’t try really hard at a sport or occupation to just be mediocre.  You work hard to be good, great, maybe even the best.  My point in all this is the longer we follow God the more we understand why Jesus said we are not of this world just like He is not of this world. 

I see my own inadequacy the most when we do medical on the streets of Kampala or in villages in the northern region of Uganda.  We walk up with our enormously heavy medic bag stuffed with all sorts of FDA approved goodies.  We set up a few benches, I put on my pink stethoscope that apparently sends the message- “I know everything,” and the flood gates of medical open wide.  For every man, woman, or child that is suffering from ringworm, diarrhea, vomiting, or malaria there are about a thousand more in that area. 

We are inadequate.  We run out of supplies, we didn’t pack the right stuff, and sometimes I just have no idea what to do. 

I look at our boys and clearly see the CHANGE, I hear their laughter, we see their hearts are being drawn to the Father’s own heart- and that’s sweet, sweet music to our souls.  Then there are the days when we are in the city and we meet new children suffering, we are in a slum and see that pain in mother’s eyes that are indescribable, or we send away a sick child from medical and refer them to a better equipped hospital because we just don’t have what they need.  Hell is real, and I see it in the poorest and most desperate places of this broken world.

As Christians we see these things and we long to invade that hell and turn things right.  That is good.  That is Jesus in us.  But we are not Jesus and we cannot turn everything right. 

We are not experts.  I seem to be learning this more the deeper we dive into the darkness with the poor and the suffering.  I laugh as I am typing this because it just hit my big head that the least of these don’t need an expert, they need a disciple equipped with the Holy Spirit, willing to obey the commands of the Father. 

“For this gospel I was appointed a herald, apostle, and teacher, and that is why I suffer these things.  But I am not ashamed, because I know the One I have believed in and am convinced that He is able to guard what has been entrusted to me until that day.” -2 Timothy 1:11-12

He will guard the things that have been entrusted to us.  Just a little further down in 2 Timothy Paul writes-

“Guard, through the Holy Spirit who lives in us, that good thing entrusted to you.” V. 14

 This is the point of it all isn’t it?  Not to fix problems or become the best at finding solutions to everything.  It’s not about turning the focus on us, and our inabilities.  It’s about committing it ALL to Christ.  Realizing that you really are, in fact tiny and insufficient.  The problems are big, and we are not.  God has made a promise to Mallory and I.  He is saying he will guard us.  He is also asking us to guard and be watchmen.  The only way we can do that is to be fully reliant on the Holy Spirit that lives inside of us.

Our ideas, plans, and supplies will never be enough.  Jesus is enough, His Spirit is enough, His guiding and protection is enough.  When our hearts become heavy with the real sadness that lives here we have to remind ourselves of these truths. 

He is enough.

He is everything.

He is in everything.

He is the Great problem solver.

He will shine His pure light on everything and wash it clean. 

“The dragon and his angels also fought, but he could not prevail, and there was no place for them in heaven any longer.” Revelation 12:7-8

Can you keep up??

In the past four days I have gone from the Ugandan McDonald’s dollar menu of 4 samosas for 1,000 shillings, to the best cheeseburger in the world (who would have ever thought you could find that in Uganda?!?), to the exquisite and delectable hippie organic food found on the one and only Hairy Lemon Island, to traditional katogo (matooke and ground nut sauce) eaten in the darkness of a 2 roomed house with a new friend, and then to some pancakes and french toast that I’m pretty sure I’ll be having when I get to heaven and get to eat breakfast with Jesus. I just now, looked at Katie as we are both lying in bed, finally showered, exhausted, and thankful, and I realized that she is blogging too. The irony of that is that we both rarely blog. 

I’d been looking forward to this weekend for a long time. Scratch that - this week, not just this weekend. Not only do I love the hippie island, but we got to go with friends. 

We’ve had all 11 boys home for the week on school holiday. It was good - one broken window, 2 cases of measles, not a lot of sleep, and many, many laughs. This weekend has been circled in red on our calendar for a long time. Our boys are at camp. It’s a beautiful break. We are EXCITED to rest, and that rest started on Friday. The boys walked us down to catch a taxi to meet up with our friends, lecturing us not to get jiggers as we lectured them not to break anything before they left for camp. One very confused taxi conductor watched as Katie and I climbed into a taxi and 7 of our boys stood there sadly waving us off. 4 samosas later, we met up with our friends and headed to Jinja and got there, slowly but surely, as always in Ugandan taxis. Our first stop was obviously lunch, that’s where the beautiful cheeseburger happened.

There’s nothing like sitting in a restaurant and having a hungry and homeless child stand in the doorway and stare at you while you enjoy your sandwich. Usually when kids ask me for money while I’m walking on the streets, I say hi but ignore them when they ask for money. I hate being the bad guy, but I have my reasons. One of them is that I have 11 kids that used to do the same thing, and I know their tactics. However, Friday as our friends shopped around for some crafts and Ugandan goodies, I made friends with the 5 kids that had been staring at me while I chomped down on my cheeseburger. I sat in a dirty alley way and hung out with them. I refused to buy them food, no matter how many times they asked. Harsh. I know. Especially after they watched me devour a cheeseburger. I wanted to be their friend, not just the mzungu that buys them lunch. Plus, I’d already seen another mzungu buy them lunch, so they weren’t going to pull that one on me. We sat in the alley and laughed and I practiced my luganda, and I made 5 new friends - Joen, Joel, Emma, Ali, and the last boy told me a different name every time I asked, so unnameable. I wish I had better words than this - but it was awesome. That’s where my heart is, with those mischievous, tender hearted but act like they are tough, absolutely hilarious, abandoned, treasured in the Father’s eyes, kids who weasel 5 lunches out of mzungus every day. It was hard to leave my new friends and climb into the back of a truck to go galavanting off to hippie island for a weekend with our friends...but I managed. 

Hippie Island was quite the adventure. I’m thankful for friends. Friends are sometimes hard to come by here, especially our aged friends, because most of them are here for a few months and then gone. It’s hard for my heart to accept that sometimes or to even want to get close to people that I know are going to be leaving soon, but it’s needed and worth it. We left hippie island and it’s monkeys and delicious food and waterfalls and water volleyball and hours of time to relax and headed back to Jinja. Katie, Sydney, and I headed on out to Bugembe - a village outside of Jinja, where we were going to do medical work. It was certainly an experience. Katie has hired me as a second nurse, and so as Aunt Sydney played with a crowd of 30 village children, Katie got the complicated clinical cases, and I got the TEETH. You heard me, teeth. I hate mouths, I don’t like reaching in other people’s mouths. BUT for 2 hours I sat there rubbing clove oil on people’s rotting, decayed, and missing teeth, no other injury, all for YOUR glory Papa! Katie was cracking up, because she knows that’s my least favorite injury. But even through her laughter, we were both shocked on the second day when I had a kid that had a gushing wound and I said, “Yes! a bloody one!” I used to be the kid that passed out when I saw blood. So much has changed in the past years of my life, particularly in the past 6 months. My heart broke for the girl that we stayed with. Her name is Joan. She is in a senior year 4. Her dad left many years ago and her mom just died recently. The pastor that we are connected with, now cares for her as much as he can. Joan sleeps in a 2 roomed house, by herself. She is struggling to get school fees, she is alone, and she wants to start an orphanage when she gets out of school because  ‘kids shouldn’t have to suffer like I do.’ Needless to say, we were both moved and quickly spoke to Joan about beginning to learn how to make jewelry for us and we will help her with her school fees. Done and done. I feel like I have a new younger Ugandan sister, who is coming to visit us next weekend! Today’s medical was slammed with ringworm, babies with worms, and gonorrhea. My heart breaks as I ask 5 year olds to bring their mom to me so I can give her medicine for her baby, and the 5 year old brings back a brother or sister that’s about 2 years older than them and takes care of them. 

After the village, we headed back to Jinja where we sat down to eat lunch, and just as I was finishing my lunch a familiar face popped up in the window. I went outside to talk to my new friend Emma. 

“OH! Auntie Mallory, I thought you were a mzungu!” I sat down and started talking to my buddy. “Auntie Mallory - do you work with street kids in Kampala?” 

“Yes I do.” 

“Do you have a home for street kids?” My heart dropped when he asked me this question. I could have sworn that I knew what question was next, that dreaded question, that I hate to answer because I have to be the bad guy that has to say “yes but you can’t come to it.” BUT I couldn’t lie. 

“Yes I do.” I answered and held my breath.

“Thank you. Thank you for being our friend.” 

That was all. My sweet friend Emma - who was surprised to see me again, laughed when I told him I wouldn’t buy him lunch, thanked me for helping children that he didn’t know, told me where he slept the night before, and told me that the next time i’m in Jinja I better come find him. 

Love covers ALL. 

There are 100,000,000 street children across the world. God tells us to have the faith of a child. Most of us reading this define that by summer swim team meets, cookouts in the backyard, Christmas mornings, family pillow fights, and wearing itchy and uncomfortable clothes to church on Sunday. Most of the kids in this world would define that by hunger, being abandoned, being neglected, being abused, being lost and alone, BUT still believing in love. 

Flash Back.

I had a flash back today of a quiz in nursing school.  Is measles airborne precaution? Droplet?  Anyways, it didn't matter because me and Mallory were sitting in a not-so-awesome clinic getting medication for 2 of our boys with the measles.  Timothy and Fred.  We picked them up from school today and prepared their little isolation room that currently smells like sweaty 11 year old boy.   At least it helps me to remember to put on a mask.

Fred is doing well, but Timothy has the worst cough I have ever heard in my life.  Croupy, dry, and loud. It's late here but we just wanted to give a shout out for prayer.  Timothy and Fred need it.  We need it.  Our other boys need it because some don't understand why they are banned from the house for the rest of the week.  So, looks like this will be a crazy week.

We know a lot of you wish you could be here with us... but you are in prayer and we appreciate that more than you could ever know.

Too Much.

When did I realize my life was weird, upside down, crazy, totally different from only 6 months ago?  

I think it was 2 nights ago when ALL 11 of the kids came home from boarding school for Easter weekend.  11 pairs of shoes on the front porch, 11 loud boy voices, and ALL 11 of them doing the Insanity workout in the living room- It wasn’t the best smell in the world...  As I was bending down to stretch I saw one of our chickens in the kitchen. Then for dinner we had to make 18 plates- 11 boys, me, Mallory, Sydney, 2 uncles, security guard, and a friend visiting.  We have exactly 18 plates.  That was the moment.  Life is like this, and it is weird and normal all at the same time.

To be honest sometimes I hate being honest with myself, friends, and especially on here for anybody to see.  But last night I laid in my bed and I couldn’t stop crying. 

 “God this is too much, I can’t do this, I will fail.  I am suffering because I miss my family and they will all be together tomorrow for Easter, it is so loud and crazy here, I am overwhelmed.” 

 That’s me being honest.  

So with selfish reasons, with worldly reasons, and with normal feelings I cried myself to sleep in Mallory’s arms.  I am thankful she has such a large wing-span.  It is comforting.  

God is with me in my tears and tantrums, in my joys and praising, in my questions, and in my contentment.  He is ALWAYS there.  There is not a single gift He has blessed me with that is not good.  It is impossible for God to give me a gift that is not HOLY and GOOD.  I saw these gifts all too clearly at church on Easter Sunday.  Some were dancing and praising God, some were doodling on pieces of paper, and one was asleep.  They are all precious gifts.  They are not perfect, shiny, new, blemish-free gifts as we tend to think gifts should be.  They are CRAZY, LOUD, MANY and yes OVERWHELMING.  

“Cast the net on the right side of the boat,” He told them, “and you’ll find some.” So they did, and they were unable to haul it in because of the large number of fish.

John 21:6

So often my human emotions trick me into thinking that the center of God’s will should look more “put-together” or “orderly” compared to that of the non-believer’s life.  And when those thoughts creep in it is scary because we think we have lost it and need to take a step back.  We can hear it over and over, but sometimes it takes you being in the middle of it, struggling with it, accepting it, and then getting to the other side of it to realize that God does give you overwhelming and impossible tasks.  He did it over and over to the disciples.  They watched Jesus die and then they were left with all these questions- “what do we do next?”

So they go fishing and Jesus shows up and even makes that task almost impossible.  It’s not that Jesus wants to mess us up, He just wants to bring us into His divine plan and Kingdom.  If the disciples didn’t listen to this guy on the shore telling them where to put the net they may have caught a few fish, maybe none.  They would have been able to carry the boat in easily, it would have been a pretty normal-looking day.  Peter would have even made it back to land dry.  No mess.  But they listened.  They did what Jesus asked of them, and they were given too much to carry.  

When we listen and follow we will be given too much to carry.  That is certain.  The disciples made it to the shore with the fish, even though it was too much for them.  We have made it to today, this very moment, still breathing, laughing, praising, crying, and questioning.  Everything has been too much to carry, but here we are- 18 plates, 18 pairs of shoes, 18 loud personalities.  We listened, we acted, we freaked out, and then we looked around and realized where we were.  

We aren’t drowning in anything but His grace and goodness.

“Set your minds on what is above, not on what is on the earth.”  Colossians 3:2

Alarms.

“Wake up, wake up; put on your strength, Zion!  Put on your beautiful garments, Jerusalem, the Holy City!  For the uncircumcised and the unclean will no longer enter you.  Stand up, shake the dust off yourself!  Take your seat, Jerusalem; Remove the bonds from your neck, captive Daughter Zion.”

  Isaiah 52:1-2

Alarms are a big part of our lives.  I wouldn’t have graduated from college without the 2 in my room that went off every morning.  I have an alarm on my watch and my phone.  I started thinking about alarms a little over a week ago when I got an email from my mom and dad.  A couple of days before I left the states my mom set an alarm for 6 months ahead.  For the day that my plane was scheduled to land back home.  My heart sunk when I read her words.  I could hear the hurt in them and I wanted to make it right.  I knew I couldn’t because I am still in Uganda, not in America running off the plane to meet the people that raised me, the friends that I grew with in college, the people that were all I knew 6 months ago.   Instead of answering my mom’s set alarm I am answering the 2 alarms that go off daily for Sam’s medicine, we are scheduling doctor’s appointments, budgeting, planning meetings, and figuring out our own, new schedule.  Instead of waking up to my watch alarm, I am waking up to kids screaming, that bouncing basketball that hits our bedroom wall, or the 2 recently acquired chickens (the rooster is the real culprit) roaming outside our window.   

I think we have some different feelings when it comes to our alarms that sit next to our beds. 

1)       We are in the deepest sleep possible and we simply can’t hear the outside world.  Alarm goes unnoticed. 

2)      We are having trouble sleeping because we are anticipating the alarm that will surely go off at any moment.

3)      We jump up with energy and purpose when we hear the buzz because we know it’s go time.

4)      We drag out of bed because the last thing we want to do is listen to a stupid machine tell us what to do.

Our days seeking God, and figuring out this “new” life are something like alarms.  Some of the things God asks me to do I jump up, ready to go.  For others I sleep through or dread doing because I don’t wanna.  For others I am impatient and I keep anticipating, but God keeps telling me to wait for His call quietly and patiently (Lamentations 3).  We all go through seasons.  Sometimes it seems as if too many alarms are going off, and let’s face it we are overwhelmed.  And YES God does give you more than you can handle, but it’s cool cause he walks on water, calms storms, and OH YEAH- raises people from the dead. He is God.  He is good.  He is great.  Sometimes you are longing to HEAR and KNOW and SEE God, but there is this loud silence and it can get frustrating. 

In any case God is teaching our family to stay alert and devote ourselves to prayer.  Because without our longing and submission we won’t be able to answer or act on anything God hands us for the day.  We encourage you to have peace with the alarms in your life; to have the courage to jump up and ACT, as well as to have the peace, patience, and endurance to be still and wait.  God has never been late or early with anything.

  He will wake you up right on time.

“Devote yourselves to prayer; stay alert in it with thanksgiving.” Colossians 4:2

Filet Mignon or Beans and Posho

People ask me all the time what does life look like here. What do you do? What do you eat?  Do you have friends? Do you have community? What’s IT like? 

My life here is simple. Sometimes a struggle, sometimes so easy, but ALWAYS covered in abundant favor. In my head, it’s no longer “my life in Uganda.” It’s just LIFE. 

I used to be so cautious of culture, it was getting in my way of loving. Now I have no shame geeking out to a random stranger about how good God is, I’ve gotten over feeling judged and watched every penny I spend because I am white, and I am certainly not going to look at the man who is trying to take my bag and smile and say “Jesus loves you,” instead he will meet my elbow, or my best friend. I don’t have to study the street like I’m about to take my SAT before I cross it. I can look around when I walk around town, because I am not concerned with falling on my face (bumpy roads). I can bargain and barter and don’t have to pay the Mzungu Price for everything. 

My days consist of homeschooling, responding to 482395 emails and facebook messages, eating posho and beans, meeting with whoever God has brought into our path to meet with that day, and always something unexpected. They consist of delighting in the most tasty pineapple, avocados, and banana chips that your mouth can ever imagine. They consist of washing my laundry with my hands (shocker, I know), making my bed every morning (Mom, you should be proud! Ugandans are the best at making beds, and it’s a habit that I think has unfortunately been instilled in me), and cooking our family meals on a charcoal stove. This also entails lighting matches, something I didn’t do until I was 21, building a fire, and making sure that you start the beans 6 hours before you want to eat them. 

Every Thursday night, we have American night. We don’t really cook “American foods” because there aren’t that many, but we branch out from the Ugandan cuisine. That means - club sandwiches, hamburgers, spaghetti, hot dogs (which was a hard one to explain, that NO as much as we do not like Peanut, our dog, we did not cook him), and all kinds of fattening treats. 

Does my mouth still water when I think about chick-fil-a, reeses cups, and a Mrs. Hall’s homemade grilled cheese? Of course! Did I look like the Febreeze girl who is so attracted to the smell of Febreeze she is found sniffing random areas of her house for awkward and extended periods of time when my mom sent laundry from home? Yes, I did. No shame.  

I have a Jja Jja (grandma). Her name is Condy. She works at the market by our house and is our landlord’s sister-in-law. She takes care of us, in more ways than I can describe. She teaches us how to be tough Ugandan women who don’t put up with crap but love unconditionally. She loves our kids, disciplines our kids, yells at our kids, and they L.O.V.E. her. Today she gave me apple juice. My mouth watered uncontrollably. She is an answered prayer. 

I have a Jja Jja (grandpa) named David. He’s white. He doesn’t teach me how to be a tough Ugandan woman, but he takes me out to Chinese food when he is in town and I treasure my time with this man. He teaches me about family. We laugh and I play jokes on him. He cares. He watches out for us. 

I have friends of all ages, sorts, sizes, and colors. They take care of us, pour into us, answer our questions, laugh with us, ask us questions, challenge us, dream with us, live with us, and some of them never go home (cough cough Brenna). Our house is always open, BUT don’t worry parents - we do have a guard. 

Every Saturday night we have worship at our house. Open invitation, sometimes there are 20 people, sometimes there is 1 person. 

It’s just life now. So when people ask expecting that I am dong so profound, sometimes I enjoy telling them that today I watched Grey’s anatomy, made 45 paper beads, cooked dinner, taught homeschool, and played football with our kids. It’s normal. “Life in Uganda” which still has many unknowns, is becoming known. It’s no longer this glorious SHINY title. 

There’s a reason for this. There’s a reason why I don’t wake up most mornings and want to cry and board a plane home. There’s a reason for why when we don’t know where our next meal is coming from or the money is taking too long to transfer from the US I don’t jump ship. There’s a reason for no matter how tired I am of disciplining these kids, that I discipline them every day. There’s a reason why I unconditionally love this booger that God has partnered me with in this journey, even though she makes weird noises in her sleep and blows her nose like an elephant. 

It’s because I have stopped looking at the physical. 

The world can look at my life and see eating the same meals every day, 11 kids that will drive you to pull out your hair, not enough money, no furniture in our living room, and friends and family back home that love and care for me so deeply and the world will say WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE? 

I am content. 

“I don’t say this out of need, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am in. I know both how to have at little, and I know how to have a lot. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret to being content - whether well fed or hungry, whether in abundance or in need.”  Philippians 4:11-12 

When we read this passage, we think about being content with what we have physically.  We define this verse by filet mignon, mashed potatoes, and asparagus VERSES rice and beans. And we think that there is a secret there, that if we can have a content heart with rice and beans then we have learned the secret. 

This is the secret that I’ve learned. Redefine that verse. 

It’s not about being content with what we have physically - whether I sleep on a mattress on the floor or in a Holiday Inn Express Garden Suite. What is spiritual hunger? My faith is not perfect. God knows that. He knows that there are going to be times in my life when I am not full, when I am hungry, when I am in the valley - and He doesn’t promise to RESCUE me that second. Instead He promised that He will lead me into the desert to speak quietly to me (Hosea 2:15), He will let me be refined by fire (Daniel), and He will “give me meager bread and water during the oppression - but MY TEACHER will not hide himself any longer (Isaiah 30:20)” and He will teach me during THAT oppression. 

Here’s the secret I’ve learned. It’s whether I feel like God is giving me meager bread, giving me my manna for the day, or I feel stuffed to the BRIM and there’s still 12 baskets left - to be content. I am content. I am content because I have learned to believe that God is so much more than a provider. I am content because I have learned to trust in the rescue. I am content because I KNOW that God is always going to feed me. I am no longer angry when I can’t feel God around me, and I am no longer upset when I cry out GOD WHERE ARE YOU? 

Because He has taught me to trust that He is coming. He has taught me to look outside of my circumstances, because there is truly only ONE circumstance that He calls me to look at. I can’t see any worldly circumstance, when I look at the cross.

When I look at the cross, God opens my eyes to a holy and loving Father that sent His son whom He has spent eternity with and loves dearly and deeper than I can fathom, to die for me. God opens my heart to believe every truth that He has given me through His son. He will provide, He will love, He will rescue, He will redeem.  When I look on that cross, God tells me to wait for Him. He is coming. That’s the only circumstance I need to see, is that God is coming. He is here with me. It’s easy to cry out GOD WHERE ARE YOU? WHY HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN ME? WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO PROVIDE? when you aren’t looking at the cross. When we look on that cross, we don’t have to ask those questions, because He has already answered them. 

Trust that. Teach us to trust in YOUR sacrifice. Teach us to trust in YOUR love. Lord, teach us discipline. Teach us to obey. We know that your “commands are not burdensome. Because everyone born of Christ, has overcome the world.” -1 John 3:5 

May we learn the secret to being content. May we learn to look at you in everything and in every day. God, when we feel like we are in the desert, I pray that we just look. You are always waiting to be found.