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The gods of Soap and Water

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Those who know me well, know that I tend to be a germaphobe. In general, I really like things around me to be clean (not necessarily perfectly organized, but at least clean of dirt and contaminants). You may be laughing right now if you’ve realized where I live and just how impossible it must be to maintain clean conditions around me. Especially right now in dry season, the never ending war on filth is real, when every vehicle that passes by on our dirt roads sends up a towering cloud of dust that inevitably filters in every window crack and ventilator of the house. I can confidently say that the only way I have been able to cope and live the past almost 8 years here is because of the grace of God. The ability to ignore the kids’ dirt crusted fingers running through my hair, or the slimy hands thrust into my own has come miraculously from Jesus Himself. But there are still habits and rituals that I do to make myself feel more comfortable and at ease. My bed is sacrosanct. It’s the one
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Ssenga's Visit

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Driving past the slums of Mbale to the little village of Namabasa after church, we sat in my little green Rav4 in nervous excitement and anticipation. This was a visit much talked about and looked forward too, but we all wondered just how it would go. I’m sure it wasn’t just Paul and my aunt Marisa who were anticipating the afternoon’s events, but also all those busy at the house preparing for our arrival: Paul’s mom, Mama Flower, his grandmother, his 2 sisters, brother and cousin were all busy getting ready for our visit. The meat had been boiling, and the matooke had been boiled and smashed. The pineapple and papaya were being carefully diced, and the g-nut (peanut) sauce was bubbling on the charcoal stove. This was the first time someone from my family would get to meet with Paul’s family, and there were so many questions and hopes surrounding this visit. Marisa and I greatly wanted to make lasting connections and start the relationship off well. Marisa’s position in the fam
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Next Steps

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These past 2 months in the States of working for HUM, traveling to speak on HUM’s behalf, and figuring out what life looks like in the next season have been so stretching! This trip has definitely been so unlike every other one of my trips here to the states, and there’s one major reason why…. This time, I’m constantly picturing what life will look like when I move back here . A huge part of me can’t even believe I just wrote that. In my grand master-plan for my life since I was in elementary school, I have never seriously thought that a significant part of my life would be spent away from Africa. But we never know the twists and turns Jesus has planned for us, do we? Before I get ahead of myself, let me assure you (and myself!!) that Paul and I both strongly desire and plan to one day live, work, minister, and raise our family in Uganda. The country that stole my heart at age 15 is where we fully intend to live someday and work to build Jesus’s Kingdom. But before that can ha
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Our Engagement

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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
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A New Vision, a New Undertaking

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For the past 4 years I’ve been focusing on teaching the children at Genesis in God’s Word. Daily, we’ve explored the Old Testament and especially how it relates to and has been fulfilled in Jesus Christ. Both the kids and I have learned so much, and I’ve developed relationships with them that I cherish. But for the whole of last year, I became more and more burdened for their need to learn about and encounter Jesus and Biblical truth in more than just a designated devotion or Bible study time. Jane and Gloria studying in Bible class My heart and vision for them that throughout the entire day, whether they’re learning about plant life in science, composition in English, or long division in Math that they would be seeing a relation to Biblical truths and principles in every single lesson. I want them to know that Jesus is intimately involved and connected to every single aspect of life. And I long for them to be aware of His loving presence and influence in every moment of
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The Party

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They started begging for their books in January, even before school had started. There really wasn’t any that special about the book… just 17 pages of crisp white paper, black ink, and a row of staples down the middle fold that would become tattered, dirty, and torn over the coming months. On each page, a question and answer, and a verse or two. Answers to questions like ‘Who is God?’ How does God want me to live my life?’, and ‘What does the Bible say about Satan, angels, and the future?’ are supported by the verse which the kids must recited word-perfectly in order to pass to the next verse.  For two years, my 3rd grade students had been hearing stories about the ‘reciting parties’ Teecha Angelina (aka Me :)) would put on for anyone who finished their book. Each year I would put on an ice-cream/yogurt party for all those who recited every verse word-perfectly. Then as an additional motivation, I promised all those who would recite the whole of their book a second time through that I
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I've Persevered!

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In my 6 1/2 years living in Africa, I’ve seen some really hard times. But this year has been different. A steady stream of one emergency, trial, and conflict after another has kept my spirit weary. Each one has not held the intensity or trauma that I’ve experienced in past years, but it’s been the never-ending tension that’s so hard. With at most a couple days of calm between each new struggle, the weariness of body, mind, and spirit has been overwhelming at times. From confronting malicious lies about me among the teachers, to grieving over the consequences of sin in some co-workers. From having to be the vet for my kittens (including learning how to put in a sub-cut IV, give injections, and do post-op care), and burying the ones that died in my arms, to cleaning out the fridge that either switches off, spoiling all the food, or freezes all the fresh fruit and veggies. From dealing with sullen teenagers in class, to battling the spiritual warfare that imprisons many of my teac
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