African Muzungu

I’m typing while staring at my finger, newly decorated, and I still can’t quite believe it’s real. 7 years in the making, and in this moment it seems more like one of my early morning dreams, somewhere in the middle of waking and sleeping. But maybe if I write it out, it will start to sink in. 7 years ago, I had just left my family, including a newly married sister, and had moved to Uganda to live with a national pastor and his wife in Mbale. My very first day in Mbale, I was introduced to my next door neighbors, Paul, Flower, and their family. I was so excited for these new friends since I was so eager to learn language, culture, and establish myself in Ugandan society. Paul and Flower were just as willing and the next weeks found us in all kinds of activities from going out in the slums to do first aid for wounds, to learning how to wash dishes with no running water. They were also my first language teachers (of both Luganda and the Ugandan accent!), and we spent hours laug...

We sat face to face, with only a table separating us. I leaned in close and looked into her brown eyes. I have something to tell you.  She was so scared as she cringed in her chair waiting for me to continue. God will never remove His grace from you. Her eyes immediately welled up in tears as she quietly stared at me. Yes, I understand what you did. I heard you say that you know that it was wrong, and you felt the burden of shame and guilt. But dear sister, please know that even when you sin, He will never remove His grace from you. Because you are His . His precious daughter who He loves more than anything. Today brought one of the most precious conversations I’ve ever had with this dear friend of mine. My heart balloons with the joy of remembering the courage she had to admit her sin to me. A sin that had brought great shame and sorrow. A sin that had her feeling like God had removed His grace from her, and she was no longer free to come before Him. And yet, she f...

It was a Friday afternoon, and my P3 (3rd grade) class was restless. Actually they were more than restless. Downright unruly is more like it. My normally beautifully behaved, obedient, attentive 9-12 year olds were acting much more like my usually challenging 6-7 year olds. I did my best to try to teach for even that short 30 minute period, but left feeling like that day was total bust. The weekend sped past with an abundance of work and play as usual, and Monday morning found me having forgotten all the woes of Friday’s difficulties. Walking into my P3 classroom, I set my things down, and listened as my children chanted their ritual greeting: You are welcome, Teecha Melanie. Dis is P3 class. Ouwa school motto is Christ’s ambassadahs tomoooorow. Smiling, I sat down at my desk and briefly collected my thoughts for the lesson. Before I could speak a word, I saw one of my girls approaching my desk. I thought she would just asked to go to the bathroom, but I was surprised to hear an apo...

We were playing together. I would hide, she would find me, I would tickle her. I loved every minute of it, and her grin and giggle told me she did too. Then, as she ran around the corner, it happened. She ran her forehead straight into the corner of the metal window frame. I heard the thump and came around the corner to see her small hand clutching her forehead and her eyes filled with pain. But she didn’t shed even a single tear. Usually when a Ugandan child is hurt, they are immediately told not to cry, distracted from the pain, and sent away to continue playing. I can’t do that. I’m thankful for a mother who tenderly comforted me when I was in pain, and believe that is exactly what God would have me to do for these kids too. So I ran to her, knelt down and pulled her into my arms. Silently, she buried her face in my neck as her father watched on. With hand pressed against her swelling head, and face pressed against my shoulder, she quietly waited for the pain to reduce. If ice ...

Everyday I go to school, I say many words, I laugh and smile, and tickle and hug, and exhort and discipline. All of it with one purpose: to make these children know that they are loved. By me, and by Jesus they are so very loved. I know each of their names, and I know their personalities. I know which ones are weak in reading, and which ones are super competitive. I know who is picking on whom, and who has a quick temper. I know them, because I WANT to know them. Because Jesus has given me such a big, uncontainable love for each one of them I am compelled to know them and long to know them better.  However, these children aren’t used to being shown affection. And there are few people that really know them. Many of them have either dead or absent parents. Many of their guardians are more concerned about what to eat for the day than about asking their kids how school went or playing with them. And although I can tell you that “Nkutaka ino” means “I love you very much” in Lugwere...

Last week my students took their final exams while I was at home trying to recover from the threefold onslaught of malaria, an upper respiratory infection, and an ear infection. I was really bummed not to be with them, and very eager to see them when I came back to work on Monday.  However, when I asked my P4 students how exams went, a couple students were quick to pipe up that some of their classmates had ‘copied’ (or cheated) on their exams. My heart fell with the prospect of disciplining them, and I talked very seriously with them for a while. Then I told them they had one day to come and report themselves to me before I started investigating myself to find out who it was.  The following day, 3 of my students admitted to me what they had done. I was glad they had the courage to report themselves, though I realize the fear of their classmates reporting them probably had something to do with it too! I disciplined them accordingly and moved on with my lesson.    At ...

As a missionary, I believe my single most important role is loving on people. In Uganda, that can look like a huge variety of things on a daily basis: verbal encouragement or praise, paying for school fees, listening to someone’s story, giving someone a ride, teaching a truth from God’s Word, tight hugs, a trip to the clinic, or even just a cheerful ‘How are you?’ I just love the myriad of opportunities I get to love on people, but love that has impact must also be very intentional. It takes thought, planning, praying, and sensitivity to the Spirit. And when Jesus binds hearts together with His love, it’s an incredible thing!! But what happens when the person you so intentionally loved, doesn’t love you back? Or even worse, stops loving you? Over last year, I developed an amazing friendship with a Ugandan family that I just adored. I spent hours in their home, sitting on their bed laughing, crying, cuddling their baby, trying new foods, and sharing the work of God in our lives...

If you pour yourself out for the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted,                                then shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom be as the noonday. And the Lord will guide you continually     and satisfy your desire in scorched places               and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a well-watered garden ,      like a spring of water,             whose waters do not fail . The words from Isaiah 58 washed over my soul as I sat in a worship session at Thrive, a retreat for missionary women last week. The phrases ‘satisfy your desire’ and ‘be like a well-watered garden' sat heavy in my spirit. I grabbed...