The first week of October we all headed to Kenya. WorldVenture was having an East Africa Spiritual Renewal conference in Malindi and I for one was excited to be spiritually renewed. God and I had a lot to talk about and I was looking forward to the time set apart to do so.
We had planned to arrive early for the conference so that we would have a day to relax before the conference started. The tide had gone out leaving the coral exposed allowing us to be able to walk around on it. As we walked out onto the beach, a swarm of men came around us, each one wanting to show us all of the different kinds of fish in the tide pools. While they were at it, they also tried to convince us to pay lots of money and go on safaris and boat tours. I quickly realized that I had worn the wrong shoes for this, opting for my zero traction flip flops instead of my lots of traction sandals. The coral wasn’t extremely slippery but walking across it meant jumping over tide pools all on uneven ground. We left the one area of coral and headed down the beach, passing little shops selling scarves and jewelry. We saw a group of people on another part of coral and headed their way. Clearly, they were seeing something cool and we wanted to see it too.
When we joined the others, we saw that they were gathered around a starfish.
There were more Kenyan guides there wanting to show us everything. They brought us to a tide pool with a group of eels, which were creepy looking. I was glad to see them from above and not in the water. We walked on the coral from tide pool to tide pool, marveling over the unique creations of God. It was fascinating!
The guides called to us as they had spotted the illusive lionfish. The lionfish swam throughout the coral tunnels under the water with us going from tide pool to tide pool to keep up with him. I had never seen such a unique and beautiful fish in real life. I couldn’t get a good picture of him because he was so dang fast.
He had swum to another area and Hannah was able to get a good picture of him. I walked over to that tide pool, almost losing my balance at one point. Did I mention that walking on the coral was tricky and uneven, not to mention more difficult by avoiding the open tide pools? Ok, good.
I reached that tide pool and was trying to get a good picture of the lionfish before he swam away. The next thing I knew, I was sliding on the coral into the tide pool with the lionfish. Did I mention that lionfish are poisonous? Luckily, the lionfish swam away and I landed sitting on the coral with my legs in the water. Stunned, I stood up again, wondering what had happened to cause my slide. It was then that I saw that I had been scratched up in the process. My legs were apparently still in shock as the pain had yet to begin. I was feeling pretty dumb at this point.
And then the blood started.
On my first step, I realized that the fall had also broken my flip-flops. I took them off and walked gingerly on the rough coral.
Our Kenyan guides called us over wanting to show us “Nemo”. I told them that we needed to head back to the hotel to take care of my wounds. We walked carefully back over the coral until we got to the beach. I was concerned that sand would get in the scratches. My legs were stinging and my main concern was that we would have to climb a sand bank to get back up to the hotel. I managed it up the sand well and one of the hotel workers saw my wounds and guided us towards the first aid area. We waited for someone to come and I realized that my wounds were more extensive than what I first saw. Somehow, the coral scratches spiraled from my ankle all the way up my left leg. On my right leg, my calf was scratched from my ankle to my knee.
The hotel first aid guy came and unlocked the first aid box. He brought out iodine and started applying it to my wounds to clean them. Oh, that’s when the pain started. I’m not sure if you’ve ever put iodine on an open wound but suggestion, don’t. My roommate is a nurse and later stated that even in the Emergency Room, they delude the iodine, as straight iodine is too caustic. Tears filled my eyes as the cleaning continued.
It. Hurt.
The days after were filled with pain. It hurt to shower. It hurt to sit. It hurt to lay down. It hurt to do most things which cut out any future trips to the beach or swims to the pool. In ways, this was good. It forced me to have more time to focus on journaling and talking to God. It also allowed me to have good conversations with fellow missionaries there.
(this is me trying to be positive…is it working?)
Healing took awhile and even now, almost a month later, you can still see the scars. I’m hoping those eventually go away. Until then, from now on, I’ll be reealllly careful about walking on coral. You be careful too.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Miracles: Big and Small: The Computer Miracle
There are some things that happen that can only be ascribed to God. Last month, one of those situations happened. For months, the charger in my computer had been on and off working. Also, my battery hadn’t seemed to be fitting right. One morning, I woke up to a dead computer because my charger just hadn’t charged all night. That was the start of it all. The timing of everything was impossible but alas, through God, nothing is impossible. I’m putting dates in so that you can see all that happened and the timing of it.
Monday, August 9:
I updated my Twitter at 7:45am:” I think my computer charger bit the dust overnight. Woke up to a dead computer. Um…what to do?”
At 8:15am, my friend Matt, who happens to work at an Apple Store, responded and asked about it. At the time, I thought it was just my charger that needed replacing. That afternoon, Matt happened to be online and we chatted about my computer woes. I told him how my charger sometimes wouldn’t charge when I plugged it in. I offhandedly mentioned how my battery seemed to not be fitting right. When he realized that it wasn’t because of it not being in correctly, he asked if it was bulging. Ah, bulging! Yes, that was the word I had been looking for. It was bulging. When Matt realized that, he got concerned and explained that though most batteries work great, there’s the 1% that are bad. If they’re bulging, they have the potential to explode and ruin the entire charging system. He explained that the situation was urgent.
Tuesday, August 10:
That morning, a woman dropped off a package at the office to send with a woman back to the States. I didn’t know the woman that would be coming other than that her name was Sara.
My battery had been bulging for months. This is probably why I was in such shock that my computer needed repair…and fast. In another conversation with Matt, he expressed that I needed to get the computer back to the States for repair as soon as possible. He meant days, not weeks. Depending on how bad it was, the repair could take anywhere from 2 days to 2 weeks. I panicked. I didn’t know anyone going back to the States anytime soon and even if it got there, how was it going to come back? I remembered the lady that was going to be coming to pick up the box but I couldn’t just ask a stranger to add a computer to her carry on and ship my computer to Matt. Well, until it became my only option.
I knew that I had to hand over all control to God. He’s in the details…right?
Wednesday, August 11:
That day, I turned off my computer and handed my most valuable possession to strangers. Sounds weird, I know. I had talked to Sara on the phone and she so graciously agreed to take my computer and ship it to Matt. Such a huge answer to prayer! She sent some friends to pick it up. It was weird handing my computer over, not knowing how long it would be until I saw it again.
Thursday, August 12-Friday, August 13:
Sara flew out of Uganda and reached Oregon on Friday.
Monday, August 16:
Sara ships my computer to Matt in Wisconsin.
Wednesday, August 18:
Matt receives my computer.
Thursday, August 19-Saturday, August 21:
Matt took my computer in to get fixed. Luckily, my charging system was not affected. Because of this, the repair didn’t take two weeks but two days. They replaced my: charger, battery, top case, touch pad and I feel like something else too. Matt installed the latest software on my computer as well as backing up everything for me and then putting everything back on my computer. He also set up everything on my computer so that literally, when I received it back, all I needed to do was turn it on and all was set up.
Monday, August 23:
Matt ships my computer to Ned and Karen in New York.
Wednesday, August 25:
Ned and Karen receive my computer.
Thursday, August 26:
Early that morning, Karen boarded a flight to Uganda.
Friday, August 27:
Karen was coming with a team to Uganda, Most of the team was staying in a location in Kampala that was about an hour away from my house. However, Karen and two others were staying on my compound, three houses down from me. Friday morning, I walked down to the house and got my computer back.
Literally, there’s no way that this could have happened any faster. If one thing would have gone wrong, it wouldn't have worked out. God was in every single detail and it was stunning to see Him work so meticulously. In the missionary world, we’re used to things not going right and everything taking a LOT longer than expected. I was without my computer for 16 days as it went from Uganda to Oregon to Wisconsin to New York and then back to Uganda. That’s just unreal. That’s just God.
I often forget how detailed God is. It’s such a reminder that though He is the Big Almighty Creator and Savior, He’s also my Abba who cares for every detail in my life. I needed that reminder.
Huge thanks goes to Sara, Matt and Karen. Without each of their willingness, none of this could have happened. It required sacrifice for each one of them (especially Matt, who spent hours and hours working on my baby). You were all a part of God’s story and through that, showed me more about our Abba. I pray that each of you were able to see His work as well.
Monday, August 9:
I updated my Twitter at 7:45am:” I think my computer charger bit the dust overnight. Woke up to a dead computer. Um…what to do?”
At 8:15am, my friend Matt, who happens to work at an Apple Store, responded and asked about it. At the time, I thought it was just my charger that needed replacing. That afternoon, Matt happened to be online and we chatted about my computer woes. I told him how my charger sometimes wouldn’t charge when I plugged it in. I offhandedly mentioned how my battery seemed to not be fitting right. When he realized that it wasn’t because of it not being in correctly, he asked if it was bulging. Ah, bulging! Yes, that was the word I had been looking for. It was bulging. When Matt realized that, he got concerned and explained that though most batteries work great, there’s the 1% that are bad. If they’re bulging, they have the potential to explode and ruin the entire charging system. He explained that the situation was urgent.
Tuesday, August 10:
That morning, a woman dropped off a package at the office to send with a woman back to the States. I didn’t know the woman that would be coming other than that her name was Sara.
My battery had been bulging for months. This is probably why I was in such shock that my computer needed repair…and fast. In another conversation with Matt, he expressed that I needed to get the computer back to the States for repair as soon as possible. He meant days, not weeks. Depending on how bad it was, the repair could take anywhere from 2 days to 2 weeks. I panicked. I didn’t know anyone going back to the States anytime soon and even if it got there, how was it going to come back? I remembered the lady that was going to be coming to pick up the box but I couldn’t just ask a stranger to add a computer to her carry on and ship my computer to Matt. Well, until it became my only option.
I knew that I had to hand over all control to God. He’s in the details…right?
Wednesday, August 11:
That day, I turned off my computer and handed my most valuable possession to strangers. Sounds weird, I know. I had talked to Sara on the phone and she so graciously agreed to take my computer and ship it to Matt. Such a huge answer to prayer! She sent some friends to pick it up. It was weird handing my computer over, not knowing how long it would be until I saw it again.
Thursday, August 12-Friday, August 13:
Sara flew out of Uganda and reached Oregon on Friday.
Monday, August 16:
Sara ships my computer to Matt in Wisconsin.
Wednesday, August 18:
Matt receives my computer.
Thursday, August 19-Saturday, August 21:
Matt took my computer in to get fixed. Luckily, my charging system was not affected. Because of this, the repair didn’t take two weeks but two days. They replaced my: charger, battery, top case, touch pad and I feel like something else too. Matt installed the latest software on my computer as well as backing up everything for me and then putting everything back on my computer. He also set up everything on my computer so that literally, when I received it back, all I needed to do was turn it on and all was set up.
Monday, August 23:
Matt ships my computer to Ned and Karen in New York.
Wednesday, August 25:
Ned and Karen receive my computer.
Thursday, August 26:
Early that morning, Karen boarded a flight to Uganda.
Friday, August 27:
Karen was coming with a team to Uganda, Most of the team was staying in a location in Kampala that was about an hour away from my house. However, Karen and two others were staying on my compound, three houses down from me. Friday morning, I walked down to the house and got my computer back.
Literally, there’s no way that this could have happened any faster. If one thing would have gone wrong, it wouldn't have worked out. God was in every single detail and it was stunning to see Him work so meticulously. In the missionary world, we’re used to things not going right and everything taking a LOT longer than expected. I was without my computer for 16 days as it went from Uganda to Oregon to Wisconsin to New York and then back to Uganda. That’s just unreal. That’s just God.
I often forget how detailed God is. It’s such a reminder that though He is the Big Almighty Creator and Savior, He’s also my Abba who cares for every detail in my life. I needed that reminder.
Huge thanks goes to Sara, Matt and Karen. Without each of their willingness, none of this could have happened. It required sacrifice for each one of them (especially Matt, who spent hours and hours working on my baby). You were all a part of God’s story and through that, showed me more about our Abba. I pray that each of you were able to see His work as well.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Blown Out: The Bombings in Kampala
It is interesting to write this entry on September 11th. This date is associated with terrorism and now, July 11th is as well. The following is what the day of and after the bombings was like for me as well as some extras.
July 11, 2010
My friend Mary was in town and we joined another group that went to Ndere Dancers, a show that highlights the different tribal dances around Uganda. I had been wanting to go for awhile and Mary coming gave the perfect opportunity. We had a fun night watching all the dancing. The World Cup final was on that night and they were hurrying to finish so that people could watch it. They were even showing it at the place if people wanted to stay. I was almost tempted. I REALLY wanted to watch it and we don’t have a TV at our house. We drove back home. It was about 9:30-10:00pm. The rugby club is a place we pass daily as it is on our way home. We passed it that night. Inside were hundreds of people watching the World Cup final. An hour later, two bombs went off killing many.
July 12, 2010.
5:50am: my alarm went off. I quickly turned off the annoying sound. It was still dark outside. I changed into my work out clothes as Kate and I were going to go running. As I was about to walk out of my room, Kate knocked.
“I just talked with Catharine…there’s been a bombing…”
“…a WHAT?” I interrupted. “Here!? A BOMB? Like, a BOMB? Who would bomb here!?” I couldn’t believe it. We’re in Uganda, not Iraq or Afghanistan.
Kate went on to explain that they didn’t know yet who was responsible. Since we drive to a certain area of town to run, we would be driving right by one of the bombsites. Catharine thought it’d be safe for us to still go but Kate and I decided to play it safe and stay home.
My mind wouldn’t stop going. The rugby club that two bombs went off is extremely close to our church and the Hope Alive! site. It’s also very close to many of our friends and students. Since it was the last game of the World Cup, it would be no surprise if many people we knew were there. There was another bomb at an Ethiopian restaurant about 15 minutes away from our house.
It was a waiting game to find out more details. Until I knew more, I had to tell Mary, my friend and visitor, what was going on. Clearly, we always want our visitors to have a good time and have nothing bad happen to them and it’s the same here. At the time, details were so scarce that I didn’t feel as though there was anything for us to be scared for our own personal safety. It’s hard to convey that though.
We went to work that morning, passing a man selling newspapers with a gory picture of the dead on front. Our route to work passed the rugby club. Traffic was insane. People were standing around watching the police presence that surrounded the area. There are walls around the rugby club so you’re not able to ever see in. That was a really good thing that morning. It was crazy to think what happened there the night before.
We got to work in time for our Monday staff meeting. It was there that we discovered that we had friends that were there. Shammah, my dear friend who is a Hope Alive! mentor and helps lead the girls Bible study with me, was there rooting for Spain. She was with two of our friends. She still came to our meeting that morning. It was crazy to hear her first hand account. They were two rows away from those that were killed. Two rows. The things they saw that night can never be forgotten. One of our Hope Alive! girls who also comes to the Bible study was there. Molly and her sister went to watch the game. Her sister was one of the dead. I haven’t seen Molly since (which, if any of my Ugandan friends are reading this, have you talked with her? I literally haven’t seen her since)
After the bombings, security was extremely tight. To this day, I can’t get into some grocery stores without my car and purse being searched, sometimes being wanded down. Rumors were flying everywhere about other bombs being found in neighborhoods, homes, schools and more. Luckily, none of those ended up being true. Security has lessened over the last few months but the presence of police is still everywhere.
The media coverage here was a culture shock in its own. While in the States, the media often won't take gory pictures of the dead, but here there is no filter. There are many pictures that remain in my mind due to the lack of filter amongst newspapers here. There was a picture of a man going through the pockets of one of the dead. That's apparently a common practice. Can you imagine? It must have been difficult to identify the dead with all of their wallets missing. There are others that I won't mention so that you won't have those mental images. Too much. The media coverage from outside was another factor. It was amazing the amount of misinformation that had come out. My mom e-mailed me at one point with concern that they were targeting Americans. I really don't know where that came from since both of the attacks were at places where Ugandans hang out. If they had wanted to attack Americans, there are definitely places and times that would have been more conducive for that. But, they didn't. They knew who they wanted to hurt and it wasn't foreigners.
I wondered if it was all too surreal for me or if I was just trying to put on a good face for Mary. However, I don’t think it was either of those. Truly, there wasn’t a time where I felt unsafe. I knew that Americans weren’t the target (no matter what was told in the American press) and the military presence after the attacks was so intense that I felt protected. I also firmly believe that my life is not in my hands but in the hands of my Lord, my Protector. And it still is.
Please pray for Uganda. Pray for no other attacks to occur. Pray for the families and friends of those that died. Pray for the injured that are still recovering. Pray for those that were there that can’t erase the memories. Pray for God to be clearly seen, for people to draw closer to Him and to see their need for a relationship with Him.
*Note: Some of my specifics of the bombing may be off, especially about timing. My memory is hazy of what time they went off and my internet isn’t working well enough to research the exact details.
July 11, 2010
My friend Mary was in town and we joined another group that went to Ndere Dancers, a show that highlights the different tribal dances around Uganda. I had been wanting to go for awhile and Mary coming gave the perfect opportunity. We had a fun night watching all the dancing. The World Cup final was on that night and they were hurrying to finish so that people could watch it. They were even showing it at the place if people wanted to stay. I was almost tempted. I REALLY wanted to watch it and we don’t have a TV at our house. We drove back home. It was about 9:30-10:00pm. The rugby club is a place we pass daily as it is on our way home. We passed it that night. Inside were hundreds of people watching the World Cup final. An hour later, two bombs went off killing many.
July 12, 2010.
5:50am: my alarm went off. I quickly turned off the annoying sound. It was still dark outside. I changed into my work out clothes as Kate and I were going to go running. As I was about to walk out of my room, Kate knocked.
“I just talked with Catharine…there’s been a bombing…”
“…a WHAT?” I interrupted. “Here!? A BOMB? Like, a BOMB? Who would bomb here!?” I couldn’t believe it. We’re in Uganda, not Iraq or Afghanistan.
Kate went on to explain that they didn’t know yet who was responsible. Since we drive to a certain area of town to run, we would be driving right by one of the bombsites. Catharine thought it’d be safe for us to still go but Kate and I decided to play it safe and stay home.
My mind wouldn’t stop going. The rugby club that two bombs went off is extremely close to our church and the Hope Alive! site. It’s also very close to many of our friends and students. Since it was the last game of the World Cup, it would be no surprise if many people we knew were there. There was another bomb at an Ethiopian restaurant about 15 minutes away from our house.
It was a waiting game to find out more details. Until I knew more, I had to tell Mary, my friend and visitor, what was going on. Clearly, we always want our visitors to have a good time and have nothing bad happen to them and it’s the same here. At the time, details were so scarce that I didn’t feel as though there was anything for us to be scared for our own personal safety. It’s hard to convey that though.
We went to work that morning, passing a man selling newspapers with a gory picture of the dead on front. Our route to work passed the rugby club. Traffic was insane. People were standing around watching the police presence that surrounded the area. There are walls around the rugby club so you’re not able to ever see in. That was a really good thing that morning. It was crazy to think what happened there the night before.
We got to work in time for our Monday staff meeting. It was there that we discovered that we had friends that were there. Shammah, my dear friend who is a Hope Alive! mentor and helps lead the girls Bible study with me, was there rooting for Spain. She was with two of our friends. She still came to our meeting that morning. It was crazy to hear her first hand account. They were two rows away from those that were killed. Two rows. The things they saw that night can never be forgotten. One of our Hope Alive! girls who also comes to the Bible study was there. Molly and her sister went to watch the game. Her sister was one of the dead. I haven’t seen Molly since (which, if any of my Ugandan friends are reading this, have you talked with her? I literally haven’t seen her since)
After the bombings, security was extremely tight. To this day, I can’t get into some grocery stores without my car and purse being searched, sometimes being wanded down. Rumors were flying everywhere about other bombs being found in neighborhoods, homes, schools and more. Luckily, none of those ended up being true. Security has lessened over the last few months but the presence of police is still everywhere.
The media coverage here was a culture shock in its own. While in the States, the media often won't take gory pictures of the dead, but here there is no filter. There are many pictures that remain in my mind due to the lack of filter amongst newspapers here. There was a picture of a man going through the pockets of one of the dead. That's apparently a common practice. Can you imagine? It must have been difficult to identify the dead with all of their wallets missing. There are others that I won't mention so that you won't have those mental images. Too much. The media coverage from outside was another factor. It was amazing the amount of misinformation that had come out. My mom e-mailed me at one point with concern that they were targeting Americans. I really don't know where that came from since both of the attacks were at places where Ugandans hang out. If they had wanted to attack Americans, there are definitely places and times that would have been more conducive for that. But, they didn't. They knew who they wanted to hurt and it wasn't foreigners.
I wondered if it was all too surreal for me or if I was just trying to put on a good face for Mary. However, I don’t think it was either of those. Truly, there wasn’t a time where I felt unsafe. I knew that Americans weren’t the target (no matter what was told in the American press) and the military presence after the attacks was so intense that I felt protected. I also firmly believe that my life is not in my hands but in the hands of my Lord, my Protector. And it still is.
Please pray for Uganda. Pray for no other attacks to occur. Pray for the families and friends of those that died. Pray for the injured that are still recovering. Pray for those that were there that can’t erase the memories. Pray for God to be clearly seen, for people to draw closer to Him and to see their need for a relationship with Him.
*Note: Some of my specifics of the bombing may be off, especially about timing. My memory is hazy of what time they went off and my internet isn’t working well enough to research the exact details.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Mary's Visit; My Perspective
What? You thought that I had shut down my blog since I haven’t written in forever? I KNOW! While I clearly haven’t been the most consistent blogger, this has been a particularly long absence. I have a reason though! My dear friend Mary was here in July for three weeks, life was crazy and then, my computer was back in the States for repair for three weeks. I’ll be splitting those two up in two blogs. I’m such a tease, I know.
Mary flew into Kampala on the year anniversary of my arrival here. It was fun to go to the airport on that same day, reminiscing of when I flew in. We spent the first week of Mary being here in Kampala. It was filled with trips to various markets, exploring downtown Kampala, Saturday club with the kids, church at our church, tutoring kids and more. She also led a seminar to our tutoring teachers about methods of teaching.
We headed up to Gulu after that for Mary to do another tutoring training plus for our Hope Alive! Senior Staff meetings. That Saturday, we went to the Saturday Club in Gulu. One of my favorite things about Hope Alive! (I have many) is that it’s not cookie cutter. Not all of our sites look the same or do things the same way. Kampala, a huge massive city, will need to do things differently than Gulu, a small town where our kids are scattered in the surrounding small villages. I was excited for Mary to see the differences in the Gulu site and I was excited to be up there again. One of the harder parts of being in Gulu is the language barrier. While the kids in Kampala are pretty fluent in English, the kids in Gulu struggle. This came into play for me that day as I helped Shem, our site director, enroll some new kids.
My heart always breaks when I see new kids come into the project. I’ve now been a part of that process in Masaka, Kampala and Gulu. There’s a shyness and uncertainty that each of the kids have. They know their life is about to change. It’s incredible to see the before and after’s of this. I remember the first day of two of our kids in Kampala. They both had dressed in the nicest clothes they owned, which were close to rags. It’s been a joy to see them open up over these last few months. Their shyness has disappeared replaced by their beautiful personalities shining through.
With these new kids in Gulu, their life experiences were unreal. Since I was filling out the information sheet, with the help of a translator, I had to ask some questions that ended up being difficult. I had to ask who they were living with, if their parents were alive and if their parents had died, how they had died. For many, their fathers had died. Pain would fill their eyes as they shared how he had died. With each child, I would place my hand on their knee, look into their sad eyes and tell them how sorry I was. It was a small action but it was clear by each of their reactions that they had not received such sympathy in a long time. It was hard to keep my tears in.
After Saturday Club, Mary taught the tutoring teachers different methods of teaching. In the meantime, Shem informed me that his youngest sister just died. She was only 15. At that time, they said it was cerebral malaria and TB. Weeks after the burial, it came out that she was poisoned by a friend’s mother. As I had talked with the new students that day, I found out that poisoning was all too common.
The burial was going to be the next day with the rest of the Hope Alive! staff coming in the morning. I had yet to be to a burial but had heard a little about them. I knew that Mary and I were both in for a new cultural experience. We drove out to the middle of the bush, literally. We turned by these bushes in the middle of nowhere and ended up by these huts where the burial was taking place. There were no quiet tears of mourning but instead, loud wailing. It was an emotional service. Her classmates wailed throughout. Shem’s mother put on a strong face but the pain in her eyes could not be hidden. Deaths are indeed common here but that day I saw the heartache behind it firsthand.
The rest of our time in Gulu was spent visiting schools. There was a child headed household in particular that made their way into our hearts. I will save that story for another blog as I would hate to shorten it and this entry is already getting long enough.
We headed to Murchison Falls National Park after our time in Gulu. I had warned Mary that I’m one of those people that everything happens to. So, she was warned, right? I had set up a driver to take us to the park who could also take us on a game drive to see the animals after which would take us back to Kampala. It was a mess confirming who was taking us and in what vehicle. We ended up in a white van that looked as though it could shake apart at the next pothole. We arrived safely in Murchison Falls with all the van parts still on. Amazing. As we were waiting for a ferry to get across the Nile, a herd of elephants came within about 50 feet of us. It was amazing to watch them! Game drives start at dawn due to the activity of the animals at the early morning. However, the next morning, there was a problem with the van and we were unable to go on our game drive. Surprise, surprise. Instead, we went to the top of Murchison Falls and then on a boat ride on the Nile. Our main annoyance while there? Our shaky van had no AC and the front windows didn’t go up properly. That’d be fine and all if a certain tsetse fly didn’t exist. If you’re unsure of what a tsetse fly is, google it. Please. Because, if you do, you’ll understand what we experienced. I had heard that the tsetse fly bites hurt but had no idea how much until it happened numerous times on that trip. Holy. Cow. It was either suffer of heat stroke or get bitten by these torturous flies. Great options. We had a great game drive the next day as we watched a lioness and her three cubs wander around.
Back in Kampala, we had only a few days left of Mary’s trip. We visited some of our kids homes here and fell in love with Andrew and Joseph’s mom. She is taking care of I forget how many children that aren’t her own. The love of God flows through her. Through broken English and mainly Luganda, she expressed how God is her Provider all while insisting on serving us tea and mandazi.
On the day Mary left, I was determined that she experience Lake Victoria. We ate lunch in Entebbe, where the airport is, and then headed to the beach. I love having my toes in sand. With that last thing done, we headed to the airport.
It was so great to show Mary my life here. She met the people I love, went to my church, experienced how I get groceries and more. As much as I can tell people what my life is like here, it was great to have Mary live it with me. It was great to see her fall in love with the people here, just as I have. It was great to see God overflow her with love for the people of Uganda, just as He has in me.
Our God is so much bigger than all us and works His plan in our lives. I love seeing glimpses of it. In the three weeks that Mary was here, we were both able to see many many glimpses of our great God. To Him be the glory.
Mary flew into Kampala on the year anniversary of my arrival here. It was fun to go to the airport on that same day, reminiscing of when I flew in. We spent the first week of Mary being here in Kampala. It was filled with trips to various markets, exploring downtown Kampala, Saturday club with the kids, church at our church, tutoring kids and more. She also led a seminar to our tutoring teachers about methods of teaching.
We headed up to Gulu after that for Mary to do another tutoring training plus for our Hope Alive! Senior Staff meetings. That Saturday, we went to the Saturday Club in Gulu. One of my favorite things about Hope Alive! (I have many) is that it’s not cookie cutter. Not all of our sites look the same or do things the same way. Kampala, a huge massive city, will need to do things differently than Gulu, a small town where our kids are scattered in the surrounding small villages. I was excited for Mary to see the differences in the Gulu site and I was excited to be up there again. One of the harder parts of being in Gulu is the language barrier. While the kids in Kampala are pretty fluent in English, the kids in Gulu struggle. This came into play for me that day as I helped Shem, our site director, enroll some new kids.
My heart always breaks when I see new kids come into the project. I’ve now been a part of that process in Masaka, Kampala and Gulu. There’s a shyness and uncertainty that each of the kids have. They know their life is about to change. It’s incredible to see the before and after’s of this. I remember the first day of two of our kids in Kampala. They both had dressed in the nicest clothes they owned, which were close to rags. It’s been a joy to see them open up over these last few months. Their shyness has disappeared replaced by their beautiful personalities shining through.
With these new kids in Gulu, their life experiences were unreal. Since I was filling out the information sheet, with the help of a translator, I had to ask some questions that ended up being difficult. I had to ask who they were living with, if their parents were alive and if their parents had died, how they had died. For many, their fathers had died. Pain would fill their eyes as they shared how he had died. With each child, I would place my hand on their knee, look into their sad eyes and tell them how sorry I was. It was a small action but it was clear by each of their reactions that they had not received such sympathy in a long time. It was hard to keep my tears in.
After Saturday Club, Mary taught the tutoring teachers different methods of teaching. In the meantime, Shem informed me that his youngest sister just died. She was only 15. At that time, they said it was cerebral malaria and TB. Weeks after the burial, it came out that she was poisoned by a friend’s mother. As I had talked with the new students that day, I found out that poisoning was all too common.
The burial was going to be the next day with the rest of the Hope Alive! staff coming in the morning. I had yet to be to a burial but had heard a little about them. I knew that Mary and I were both in for a new cultural experience. We drove out to the middle of the bush, literally. We turned by these bushes in the middle of nowhere and ended up by these huts where the burial was taking place. There were no quiet tears of mourning but instead, loud wailing. It was an emotional service. Her classmates wailed throughout. Shem’s mother put on a strong face but the pain in her eyes could not be hidden. Deaths are indeed common here but that day I saw the heartache behind it firsthand.
The rest of our time in Gulu was spent visiting schools. There was a child headed household in particular that made their way into our hearts. I will save that story for another blog as I would hate to shorten it and this entry is already getting long enough.
We headed to Murchison Falls National Park after our time in Gulu. I had warned Mary that I’m one of those people that everything happens to. So, she was warned, right? I had set up a driver to take us to the park who could also take us on a game drive to see the animals after which would take us back to Kampala. It was a mess confirming who was taking us and in what vehicle. We ended up in a white van that looked as though it could shake apart at the next pothole. We arrived safely in Murchison Falls with all the van parts still on. Amazing. As we were waiting for a ferry to get across the Nile, a herd of elephants came within about 50 feet of us. It was amazing to watch them! Game drives start at dawn due to the activity of the animals at the early morning. However, the next morning, there was a problem with the van and we were unable to go on our game drive. Surprise, surprise. Instead, we went to the top of Murchison Falls and then on a boat ride on the Nile. Our main annoyance while there? Our shaky van had no AC and the front windows didn’t go up properly. That’d be fine and all if a certain tsetse fly didn’t exist. If you’re unsure of what a tsetse fly is, google it. Please. Because, if you do, you’ll understand what we experienced. I had heard that the tsetse fly bites hurt but had no idea how much until it happened numerous times on that trip. Holy. Cow. It was either suffer of heat stroke or get bitten by these torturous flies. Great options. We had a great game drive the next day as we watched a lioness and her three cubs wander around.
Back in Kampala, we had only a few days left of Mary’s trip. We visited some of our kids homes here and fell in love with Andrew and Joseph’s mom. She is taking care of I forget how many children that aren’t her own. The love of God flows through her. Through broken English and mainly Luganda, she expressed how God is her Provider all while insisting on serving us tea and mandazi.
On the day Mary left, I was determined that she experience Lake Victoria. We ate lunch in Entebbe, where the airport is, and then headed to the beach. I love having my toes in sand. With that last thing done, we headed to the airport.
It was so great to show Mary my life here. She met the people I love, went to my church, experienced how I get groceries and more. As much as I can tell people what my life is like here, it was great to have Mary live it with me. It was great to see her fall in love with the people here, just as I have. It was great to see God overflow her with love for the people of Uganda, just as He has in me.
Our God is so much bigger than all us and works His plan in our lives. I love seeing glimpses of it. In the three weeks that Mary was here, we were both able to see many many glimpses of our great God. To Him be the glory.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Miracles: Big and Small: The Bicycle Accident
Back in March, my roommate Kate went back to visit the States. Upon her return, Kacie and I went to pick her up at the airport. Since the airport is a good distance from our house and Kate was coming in at night, we opted to hire a driver to take us to and from the airport. Driving at night here is a completely different story than driving at night in the States. It’s extremely difficult. The roads are unlit and filled with people, bikes, motorcycles and cars all trying to manage their way around. It’s not fun. At all. We were glad to have someone else deal with all of that.
Our original driver called to say he could not make it so he was sending another driver. Our new driver, Matthew, arrived and we were off. We got into crazy traffic in town but at last managed our way through it. Traffic cleared up some once we were on the road to the airport. I noted Matthew was driving pretty fast and almost commented to him that we had plenty of time so he could slow down. Not that it would have changed anything.
I noticed a bicyclist come along the side of the car. What happened next plays and rewinds in my mind numerous times a day.
The bicyclist turned into our lane wanting to cross the road to get to the other side. It was like in slow motion.
As I saw him turn, thoughts went racing in my mind: “Oh no, what is he doing? We need to slow down. We’re going to hit him.”
Words wanted to come out of my mouth but it just all happened too quickly.
Impact.
We hit the bike and the bicyclist disappeared.
BAM. The bicyclist slams onto the hood.
CRASH. He slides into the windshield.
SQUEAL. The car is still trying to stop. The bicyclist slides off the car.
THUD. We drive over something. I think it’s the bicyclist.
At last, we’re stopped. I’m covered in shards of glass from the windshield. The bicyclist is nowhere in site and I figure we had driven over him. I’m shaking. I have no idea what to do.
Chaos began.
As fast as the accident happened, our car was surrounded. People were all around us, yelling in different languages. I looked to our driver to tell us what to do. He had his head in his hands. Kacie, sitting in the back seat, started repeatedly telling me to call our business manager, Robert. Shaking and in shock, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t figure out why we needed to call him and I just wanted to hide.
In the meantime, the bicyclist stood up, blood dripping down his face. We had driven over his bicycle, not him. I was so relieved he was alive. At the speed we were going, I don’t know how he survived. The driver moved from the road to the side of the road. We were panicking as he did so, worrying that another accident would occur since there was zero visibility out of the smashed windshield. We safely got to the side of the road. The mob of people followed us and it seemed as though the yelling was getting even louder. A random man approached the driver side and told our driver that he could take us the rest of the way. I had no idea if we could trust this random man and I found it really shady. I tried to call Robert. I could barely hear over the yelling, was completely confused by the random man telling us to go with him, our driver telling us to go with him and unable to stop shaking and get out of shock. Robert answered his phone. All I could muster was a noise. I wanted to break down in sobs. I wanted to get out. I wanted to be safe. I couldn’t express anything in that moment. While attempting to communicate with Robert, Kacie was on the phone with our boss Catharine who told us to go with the random man and to get out of the situation as soon as possible. I hung up with Robert determining to call him back when I could form a sentence.
Exiting the car. Our driver and the random man kept urging us to hurry and telling us that we needed to get out of there as soon as possible. I had no idea what to expect from all these people. Here’s what I knew: they were angry. I gathered my things and quickly got out of the car to walk to the random man’s car in front of ours. Every step was painful as my shoes were also covered in glass. We entered his car. I tried to get in the back seat but his wife had moved back with their kids and had me sit in the passenger seat. I was not ready to be in that seat again, especially after what had just happened. I closed my eyes and prayed. A lot.
The rest of the drive to the airport was somewhat uneventful. At one point, the random man (I forget his name now) pulled over to get gas and asked me how much I was going to put in his tank for the rest of the way. We negotiated. After all we had been through that far, I was so frustrated that he wanted to overcharge me. I eventually gave in. On the way, I called our original driver in order to arrange for a ride back. We at last arrived safely. From what I know, Matthew the driver took the bicyclist to the hospital.
In the States, when you’re in an accident, both parties stop, get out, exchange insurance information, the police are called, etc. It’s a whole different world here. If there’s an accident and no one is injured, the two parties work it out amongst themselves, pay for things then and leave. No police involvement if it can be avoided. If someone is injured, it’s a whole different story. Mobs form quickly wanting justice to be served. They plan on giving that justice. If I was ever driving and injure someone, I’m not supposed to stop but instead leave. I then look for the nearest police post and report it there. I can then go back with the police. If I stop, a mob will form to take their justice out on me.
For our situation, the mob blamed us. The random man was telling us that people kept yelling that it was our fault and that we should pay for everything. Clearly, I in the passenger seat had nothing to do with what happened. Even if our driver had been driving slower, the bicyclist did not even look and crossed the road and it all still would have happened. It was clearly his fault. However, that wasn’t to be seen. We were white and, according to the mob, had money and thus, should be fully responsible. If we had not left when we did, things would have escalated and the chance of us being physically harmed is high. Our driver and the random man clearly knew this, hence their urgency for us to leave.
There are times when I’m trying to sleep at nights that those first few seconds repeat themselves in my head again. The panic of those moments is still fresh in my mind. Driving after that incident has been filled with more worry as I am always looking out for bikes and praying that I don’t hit one.
This past week, I had some friends from my hometown that were in Uganda. In order to hang out with them on Friday, I had to drive down that fateful road. All. By. Myself. I was seriously nervous. I knew I had to conquer my fear. The drive went smoothly (praise GOD!) and I feel more comfortable driving there. Not completely but…more.
Cultural lessons always come when I least expect it., especially when it’s such a contrast from my own culture. God’s protection amazes me. None of us in the car were injured. I had a few small cuts from glass but nothing big. It all could have been so much worse. God did the miraculous.
Our original driver called to say he could not make it so he was sending another driver. Our new driver, Matthew, arrived and we were off. We got into crazy traffic in town but at last managed our way through it. Traffic cleared up some once we were on the road to the airport. I noted Matthew was driving pretty fast and almost commented to him that we had plenty of time so he could slow down. Not that it would have changed anything.
I noticed a bicyclist come along the side of the car. What happened next plays and rewinds in my mind numerous times a day.
The bicyclist turned into our lane wanting to cross the road to get to the other side. It was like in slow motion.
As I saw him turn, thoughts went racing in my mind: “Oh no, what is he doing? We need to slow down. We’re going to hit him.”
Words wanted to come out of my mouth but it just all happened too quickly.
Impact.
We hit the bike and the bicyclist disappeared.
BAM. The bicyclist slams onto the hood.
CRASH. He slides into the windshield.
SQUEAL. The car is still trying to stop. The bicyclist slides off the car.
THUD. We drive over something. I think it’s the bicyclist.
At last, we’re stopped. I’m covered in shards of glass from the windshield. The bicyclist is nowhere in site and I figure we had driven over him. I’m shaking. I have no idea what to do.
Chaos began.
As fast as the accident happened, our car was surrounded. People were all around us, yelling in different languages. I looked to our driver to tell us what to do. He had his head in his hands. Kacie, sitting in the back seat, started repeatedly telling me to call our business manager, Robert. Shaking and in shock, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t figure out why we needed to call him and I just wanted to hide.
In the meantime, the bicyclist stood up, blood dripping down his face. We had driven over his bicycle, not him. I was so relieved he was alive. At the speed we were going, I don’t know how he survived. The driver moved from the road to the side of the road. We were panicking as he did so, worrying that another accident would occur since there was zero visibility out of the smashed windshield. We safely got to the side of the road. The mob of people followed us and it seemed as though the yelling was getting even louder. A random man approached the driver side and told our driver that he could take us the rest of the way. I had no idea if we could trust this random man and I found it really shady. I tried to call Robert. I could barely hear over the yelling, was completely confused by the random man telling us to go with him, our driver telling us to go with him and unable to stop shaking and get out of shock. Robert answered his phone. All I could muster was a noise. I wanted to break down in sobs. I wanted to get out. I wanted to be safe. I couldn’t express anything in that moment. While attempting to communicate with Robert, Kacie was on the phone with our boss Catharine who told us to go with the random man and to get out of the situation as soon as possible. I hung up with Robert determining to call him back when I could form a sentence.
Exiting the car. Our driver and the random man kept urging us to hurry and telling us that we needed to get out of there as soon as possible. I had no idea what to expect from all these people. Here’s what I knew: they were angry. I gathered my things and quickly got out of the car to walk to the random man’s car in front of ours. Every step was painful as my shoes were also covered in glass. We entered his car. I tried to get in the back seat but his wife had moved back with their kids and had me sit in the passenger seat. I was not ready to be in that seat again, especially after what had just happened. I closed my eyes and prayed. A lot.
The rest of the drive to the airport was somewhat uneventful. At one point, the random man (I forget his name now) pulled over to get gas and asked me how much I was going to put in his tank for the rest of the way. We negotiated. After all we had been through that far, I was so frustrated that he wanted to overcharge me. I eventually gave in. On the way, I called our original driver in order to arrange for a ride back. We at last arrived safely. From what I know, Matthew the driver took the bicyclist to the hospital.
In the States, when you’re in an accident, both parties stop, get out, exchange insurance information, the police are called, etc. It’s a whole different world here. If there’s an accident and no one is injured, the two parties work it out amongst themselves, pay for things then and leave. No police involvement if it can be avoided. If someone is injured, it’s a whole different story. Mobs form quickly wanting justice to be served. They plan on giving that justice. If I was ever driving and injure someone, I’m not supposed to stop but instead leave. I then look for the nearest police post and report it there. I can then go back with the police. If I stop, a mob will form to take their justice out on me.
For our situation, the mob blamed us. The random man was telling us that people kept yelling that it was our fault and that we should pay for everything. Clearly, I in the passenger seat had nothing to do with what happened. Even if our driver had been driving slower, the bicyclist did not even look and crossed the road and it all still would have happened. It was clearly his fault. However, that wasn’t to be seen. We were white and, according to the mob, had money and thus, should be fully responsible. If we had not left when we did, things would have escalated and the chance of us being physically harmed is high. Our driver and the random man clearly knew this, hence their urgency for us to leave.
There are times when I’m trying to sleep at nights that those first few seconds repeat themselves in my head again. The panic of those moments is still fresh in my mind. Driving after that incident has been filled with more worry as I am always looking out for bikes and praying that I don’t hit one.
This past week, I had some friends from my hometown that were in Uganda. In order to hang out with them on Friday, I had to drive down that fateful road. All. By. Myself. I was seriously nervous. I knew I had to conquer my fear. The drive went smoothly (praise GOD!) and I feel more comfortable driving there. Not completely but…more.
Cultural lessons always come when I least expect it., especially when it’s such a contrast from my own culture. God’s protection amazes me. None of us in the car were injured. I had a few small cuts from glass but nothing big. It all could have been so much worse. God did the miraculous.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Death And All His Friends
Death is something that each of us will experience one day. It’s also something that is experienced often with loved ones dying. Though we know these truths, it doesn’t make it any easier when it hits our life. The stages of grief linger longer than expected making me wonder if they ever truly end.
I’ve also wondered which is “better”: an expected death or an unexpected one. When my grandpa had lung cancer, we knew he was going to die. I was young enough to not fully understand all that was going on but knew the inevitable: cancer would take his life. However, with my aunt, it was terribly sudden. I don’t think the memories of that day will ever leave me. I remember the phone call, hearing my mom’s cries and feeling a complete sense of disbelief and denial. She couldn’t be dead…right? The next few days were a blur of difficult decisions and me never wanting to leave my grieving mother’s side. I sat next to her as she called her parents to tell them that their daughter had died, praying and crying throughout the call.
Though statistics give vital information, the downside of them is that it gives you numbers and takes out the humanity. How often have we heard stats about Africa? The deaths from genocide, wars, AIDS, malaria, typhoid, etc. Because it happens so often, it may seem that death is more “normal” here. Since so many atrocities have occurred, aren’t people used to it? Perhaps the pain is less?
My roommates and I have talked about the commonality of death here. I have been here now for one year and could list for you the people that I know that have died in that time. As I have seen my friends grieve, my heart has been broken for them. Even in the States, funerals are an expensive matter. The same is true here. Traditionally, the person must be taken back to their village to be buried there. The family then must find transportation for the body as well as the family members to get to the village. Since most people do not have a car, they have to hire someone to do this. The expenses rack up quickly adding worry and debt to grief. The consequences of death here reach far deeper than I could have ever believed, far beyond financially. When my friend Dorothy’s mom died, there was no one left to care for the family. There are now five children without an adult to care for them. How do they pay rent? Buy food? Pay for school fees?
This past week, my friend Jonah’s brother died. He had been sick for a few weeks. I had talked with Jonah the day before and he said it seemed as though he was getting better. The next day, Jonah came to church to play the drums. He then announced to the church the death of his brother. I gasped and my jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe it. He was married with four children. Seeing Jonah’s tears and pain…it was so difficult. We were able to help with the transporting of the family and body but what now? There are four children without a father; a family with no source of income.
Jonah updated the church today and asked for prayer as him and his family takes on the responsibility of his brother’s family. Amidst a continent that sees death far too often is a community culture that comes through. Though this woman now has four children to raise, she is not doing it alone. Though there is no adult caring for Dorothy and her family, members of the community have come together to help them. Will they all still struggle? Yes! Life will be much more difficult. In addition, as we all know, nothing replaces a person. I will always miss my grandpa. I will always miss my aunt. I will always miss those that were once in my life but now are not. The same is true here. But, the beauty in this culture is the people. They have a resilience that stuns me and a community that comes together.
There is no getting used to death. Atrocities never become “normal”. The pain is overwhelming, no matter what culture you are from. I came to Africa seeking faces behind the statistics. There is humanity that is lost behind those empty numbers. Next time you hear one of those numbers, think of these people. They are beautiful, caring and loving. They get hurt and cry. They experience the unthinkable and refuse to give up.
They humble me.
I’ve also wondered which is “better”: an expected death or an unexpected one. When my grandpa had lung cancer, we knew he was going to die. I was young enough to not fully understand all that was going on but knew the inevitable: cancer would take his life. However, with my aunt, it was terribly sudden. I don’t think the memories of that day will ever leave me. I remember the phone call, hearing my mom’s cries and feeling a complete sense of disbelief and denial. She couldn’t be dead…right? The next few days were a blur of difficult decisions and me never wanting to leave my grieving mother’s side. I sat next to her as she called her parents to tell them that their daughter had died, praying and crying throughout the call.
Though statistics give vital information, the downside of them is that it gives you numbers and takes out the humanity. How often have we heard stats about Africa? The deaths from genocide, wars, AIDS, malaria, typhoid, etc. Because it happens so often, it may seem that death is more “normal” here. Since so many atrocities have occurred, aren’t people used to it? Perhaps the pain is less?
My roommates and I have talked about the commonality of death here. I have been here now for one year and could list for you the people that I know that have died in that time. As I have seen my friends grieve, my heart has been broken for them. Even in the States, funerals are an expensive matter. The same is true here. Traditionally, the person must be taken back to their village to be buried there. The family then must find transportation for the body as well as the family members to get to the village. Since most people do not have a car, they have to hire someone to do this. The expenses rack up quickly adding worry and debt to grief. The consequences of death here reach far deeper than I could have ever believed, far beyond financially. When my friend Dorothy’s mom died, there was no one left to care for the family. There are now five children without an adult to care for them. How do they pay rent? Buy food? Pay for school fees?
This past week, my friend Jonah’s brother died. He had been sick for a few weeks. I had talked with Jonah the day before and he said it seemed as though he was getting better. The next day, Jonah came to church to play the drums. He then announced to the church the death of his brother. I gasped and my jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe it. He was married with four children. Seeing Jonah’s tears and pain…it was so difficult. We were able to help with the transporting of the family and body but what now? There are four children without a father; a family with no source of income.
Jonah updated the church today and asked for prayer as him and his family takes on the responsibility of his brother’s family. Amidst a continent that sees death far too often is a community culture that comes through. Though this woman now has four children to raise, she is not doing it alone. Though there is no adult caring for Dorothy and her family, members of the community have come together to help them. Will they all still struggle? Yes! Life will be much more difficult. In addition, as we all know, nothing replaces a person. I will always miss my grandpa. I will always miss my aunt. I will always miss those that were once in my life but now are not. The same is true here. But, the beauty in this culture is the people. They have a resilience that stuns me and a community that comes together.
There is no getting used to death. Atrocities never become “normal”. The pain is overwhelming, no matter what culture you are from. I came to Africa seeking faces behind the statistics. There is humanity that is lost behind those empty numbers. Next time you hear one of those numbers, think of these people. They are beautiful, caring and loving. They get hurt and cry. They experience the unthinkable and refuse to give up.
They humble me.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Fancy Pants
Ooooh, check out my new design. Fancy. Pants. Do you see how the background is an elephant? I know, it's SO African. My blog now totally matches my life here. Totally.
Things have been busy and life has again been flying by. I keep wondering when things are going to slow down and then I realize that the true insanity is just beginning. In two weeks, my dear friend Mary arrives. She'll be here for three weeks helping our tutoring teachers learn different methods of teaching plus have loads of fun with me. Then, in August, two of my fabulous friends Glo and Mars (Gloria and Maria, for those who don't know their endearing nicknames) are coming to share their intense Biblical knowledge with many of our mentors with Hope Alive! as well as our kids. They will also have loads of fun with me.
It will be crazy to have my two worlds collide. My roommates and I have talked often how we feel like double agents here. We have our live in America and our life here. They look completely different from the other. There is very little similar in those two lives. I'm trying to think of a way to compare them and I can't even think of anything right now. It's like two completely different lives...
...that will collide together in two weeks.
I cannot WAIT to share my life here though. It has been so difficult to put into words all that I experience in my life here. Words and pictures are limited and cannot do justice to being here. Perhaps those awesome friends of mine will be able to express this even more for you. Perhaps you should just come and check this out for yourself.
Until then...let's hope another month won't go by before I write again. With this new design, how can I resist!?
Things have been busy and life has again been flying by. I keep wondering when things are going to slow down and then I realize that the true insanity is just beginning. In two weeks, my dear friend Mary arrives. She'll be here for three weeks helping our tutoring teachers learn different methods of teaching plus have loads of fun with me. Then, in August, two of my fabulous friends Glo and Mars (Gloria and Maria, for those who don't know their endearing nicknames) are coming to share their intense Biblical knowledge with many of our mentors with Hope Alive! as well as our kids. They will also have loads of fun with me.
It will be crazy to have my two worlds collide. My roommates and I have talked often how we feel like double agents here. We have our live in America and our life here. They look completely different from the other. There is very little similar in those two lives. I'm trying to think of a way to compare them and I can't even think of anything right now. It's like two completely different lives...
...that will collide together in two weeks.
I cannot WAIT to share my life here though. It has been so difficult to put into words all that I experience in my life here. Words and pictures are limited and cannot do justice to being here. Perhaps those awesome friends of mine will be able to express this even more for you. Perhaps you should just come and check this out for yourself.
Until then...let's hope another month won't go by before I write again. With this new design, how can I resist!?
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