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...

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...

I moved to the village. Well, as they say here, 'somehow' the village. As someone aptly noted, our office compound in Kamonkoli is "like town in the village." It’s not brick or mud huts with tin or thatch roofs. It’s not dirt floors, or pit latrines. It’s not cooking outdoors on charcoal stoves. It’s indoor plumbing, and normal (for here :) ) windows and doors. It’s the same furniture and decorations that I had in Mbale. It’s carpet in the bedroom, and a bathtub and shower. My bedroom But it is also hand carrying water in jerrycans. Because city water hasn’t reached us here in months so the only way to have running water is if the one and only firetruck in the region brings water to fill the tank. And even then, everything other than showering is done with jerrycans in order to conserve water. It is learning that a toilet needs 10 liters of water (a half a jerrycan, or more than 20 lbs of water) in order to flush...and learning how many times you ...

5 1/2 years of ministry in Uganda have been leading to this point…. When I first moved to Uganda I was doing language and culture study in Mbale, but after my first year there, Jesus made it abundantly clear that I was to join the team out in Kamonkoli for ministry. For a variety of reasons (including the fact that there wasn’t available housing), HUM and I decided that I would continue to live in Mbale and drive out to the village each day. The view from my current porch Jesus has abundantly blessed my time in Mbale! I’ve stayed in a number of different houses, but this latest place was my favorite. I got to be there for 3 whole years (so amazing after moving 5 times in 2 1/2 years!), and had over a dozen people live with me in these years. Callie has been my faithful housemate even from before this house, and such a huge answer to prayer. She’s an ideal housemate, and has been a wonderful teammate as we’ve taught so many newbies coming into our house to live in Uganda how t...

I thought you all might enjoy a glimpse of Ugandan culture: this is how we decorate cars for weddings in Uganda. In the states, only the getaway car is decorated, but here in Uganda there is a bridal procession of cars to carry the couple, bridal party, and all other important people to the wedding. Each of the cars gets decorated, and all the cars drive very slowly honking their horns in a steady 'beep, beep!' I got to drive the bridesmaids around so my Rav4 also got all dressed up. Annnnnd it give me a chance to show off the new tires the Lord provided through you all! My car sporting its brand new tires and all decked out for the wedding

There are some days when I could even fool myself that I work in an office in the States. This week since the kids are out on the second of their three yearly breaks, I took the opportunity to work on the budget for the school for next year. Buried in my laptop for hours on end, I am reminded of why I wouldn’t gladly choose a 9-5 desk job. This morning found me again at work settling in for yet another marathon day of numbers. I have to admit, it’s not work that I enjoy. When I dreamt of my life’s work in Africa, I’m pretty sure I had something more like trekking through the bush, spreading joy, flowers, and candy to every child that I saw. I definitely didn’t envision a dimly lit office, wooden chair, and lcd screen. But the hard truth of life is that in order to accomplish the vision set before us, we must accomplish even the tiresome, seemingly less important or at least less fulfilling tasks as well. Even though if I had my way, each day would be spent just playing with or teaching...

8 year old Miracle is truly a joy sent from the Lord just for me. Or at least that’s what I’d like to think :) Miracle is in P2 at Genesis, and a truly sweet girl. Each day you’ll find her at school sitting bolt upright on her bench, her eyes fastened on the teacher, and her head slowly tracking the teacher’s movements. Every motion declares the rapture of her attention. You can have no doubt in watching her that she loves to learn!   Last year, she couldn’t go to school because her parents couldn’t afford to send her. Her father, Kenneth, though well-educated and even a secondary teacher himself, was also a drunk. Last year he lost his job at the local secondary school and was left without any income for him, his wife Sarah, and Miracle. So even though Miracle is bright, and did very well in school, she had to stay at home. It broke her parent’s hearts to always hear her asking, “Why can’t I go to school? When will I be able to go to school again?” After start...