The Reign of Mouse Terror

I was sharing rodent stories with a friend and realized that I had never blogged about the infamous mouse infestation we had in Kampala. I seriously can’t believe it. In April of 2010, this was my LIFE (slight exaggeration…but only slight). Although in ways I can. Life in Uganda was so busy that I failed to blog much of life there. This time in the States is a good time for me to catch you all up on what happened in the past two years. So, enjoy…

My roommate Kate was the killer of the house. By that I mean she would kill any insect or bug for me. I would cook her dinner. She would kill cockroaches in my room. And reach tall things for me. It was a great deal. She was my hero. However, Kate left for the States to visit her family in the month of April leaving my roommate Kacie and I. I can’t remember if we knew we had a mouse when Kate left but oh, the evidence became clear.

At first we thought we had one mouse but soon we were pretty sure there was more than one. These were no ordinary mice. They had super human powers. They had acrobatic abilities that made me think that they had worked in a traveling circus.  You think I’m exaggerating? The mice would run along the gas line to our stove, jump to a small ledge behind the stove and then leap ON TOP OF OUR COUNTERTOPS. Once on our counters, they had access to the WORLD. We would open our cupboards and out would jump a mouse. There were mouse droppings EVERYWHERE: on our silverware, on our newly washed dishes, etc. These mice literally controlled our kitchen for an entire month.

Don’t think we were sitting back waiting for them to die of old age. We tried everything to kill these super powered rodents. There were mouse traps…that would be licked clean of peanut butter with no dead mouse.  There were sticky glue traps…that I literally watched one mouse land into and get out of it.  Super. Human. Powers.

The mice would hide in the area behind the stove, making it impossible to get to them.

Until…

The mice weren’t scared of us. Obviously. They were brave. And one day, one of them got an extra dose of confidence.

I was sitting at the kitchen table facing the kitchen.  I saw the mouse inch his way toward the door. This happened a couple times and he would scurry back to his haven. I got a broom out for the next time. The next time came and I ran at the mouse with my broom, slamming the broom at the mouse while screaming hysterically the entire time (please, visualize this. I’m sure I looked ridiculous). The mouse ran under our refrigerator and I knew that this was our only chance to rid our house of this mouse. Kacie and I boarded up the area under the oven with bags of flour and cutting boards so that he couldn’t hide there. And then we called reinforcements.

I had Kacie watch the fridge while I went to get our night guard Michael. Michael came in, looked under the fridge and requested a stick. Michael poked the mouse under the fridge, trying to get him to come out. Kacie and I were holding mixing bowls and colanders, clearly ready to help by um, throwing them at the mouse? 

And then…he came.

All of a sudden, the mouse was running rampant all over the kitchen. Within seconds, Kacie ran screaming out of the kitchen, closing the door. Inside of the kitchen was me, screaming while holding my colander, and Michael, chasing the mouse with the stick. Michael cornered the mouse, stepped on it and used his stick to kill it. 

Within 60 seconds, our month long hellacious mouse infestation ended…

…until the next day when we realized that there was indeed more than one mouse.

The problems continued until the night Kate came back from the States, fancy new mouse trap in hand.  Kate set the trap the night she returned. The next morning I came out to the kitchen, checked the trap and…there it was. The second mouse.

THE REIGN OF TERROR HAD ENDED.

Kate had been home for less than 12 hours and the second mouse was dead.

Like, I said, Kate was the killer of the house…and we were forever grateful.

Christmas Gifts

As my mom and I were planning our Christmas dinner, I couldn’t help but think of some of my loved ones across the ocean.

We had a Christmas party for our kids. I always loved seeing them perform. You can check out one of the songs they sang:

Aren't they great? I keep watching it on repeat. I miss those little faces so much.

After the kids came back from their Christmas holiday, they would all be bursting with excitement to tell us everything. There were no talks of toys. No one exclaiming about the latest gadget they received. Instead, it was excited cries of …“chicken!!”. Meat is such a delicacy in Uganda and too expensive for many to buy. For Christmas, it is a treat to have chicken.

As I would catch up with each of the kids, I always noted the quiet ones. When I would ask them about Christmas, there would be a hesitance. I would ask them if they had also eaten chicken for Christmas. Eyes cast down, they would shake their heads “no”. For some, Christmas was just another day where even the daily rice and beans was too much to pay for.

I’ve mentioned before how I feel like I live two lives. I see this world here: full of Christmas decorations, the holiday hustle and bustle and shopping for the latest must-have item. But I know of a different world; the one where my heart remains. A world full of beautiful dark skin, big brown eyes and the whitest smiles you’ve ever seen. A world where luxury is considered to be a bite of chicken.  

Ah, but the most luxurious gift of all is the one that baffles me the most.

When I try to visualize God, I picture a big throne; an intimidating scene, really. In my mind, I can never make out what He looks like…just big. He is All-Powerful. He is Almighty God.

Christmas is a time that takes my visual and changes it into something almost unbelievable:

The All-Powerful Almighty God fitting inside the womb of a woman. The Creator God, the One who created the world in seven days, becoming one of His creations. It’s just unreal. It doesn’t make sense. It’s counter cultural in so many ways. Why would someone powerful ever become lower than even those that serve them? Even more, why would the Almighty God lower Himself to not only be with us but to become one of us?

Oh, but He knew.  He knew that in order for the greatest gift of all to be given that the ultimate sacrifice had to be made. The most luxurious gift of all would cost Him a fortune but would be freely given.

“But God’s gift is real life, eternal life, delivered by Jesus, our Master.” (Rom 6:23b)

Our faults are many. We are undeserving. Our sins have earned us death.  The most expensive gift can’t be bought. It can’t be earned. I can’t work hard enough. I can’t be “good enough”.  This gift doesn’t care where you were born. It doesn’t care how much money you have.

Let us all stop and remember what we are celebrating. Let us worship our King, our Creator, our Savior. Let us be thankful for the gift that He has given us.

Merry Christmas!

Miracles: Big and Small - No Charges

I was finishing a good run when I noticed my knee starting to hurt. I pushed through and finished but the next day, the pain was stronger. That was a month and a half ago. I went to a clinic in Lynchburg where they told me to brace it and if it was still hurting two weeks later, I was to call and get referred to an orthopedic doctor. Due to my crazy schedule, it was almost a month later that I called.

Side note: my mom asked her friend who would be a good orthopedic doctor in Iowa to go to since she would know. She gave me three options and I got the one with the first opening. When I told her which one I was going to, she said, “oh we just LOVE saying his name!”. I totally understood. His last name? Fabiano. Say that ten times. I get more dramatic each time. Fabiaaaaannnnoo. Insert a dramatic Italian shake of the fist. Even. Better.

I made an appointment with a doctor here in Iowa and was immediately nervous. Would it be a serious problem? Would I need surgery? And, above all, how would I afford it?

I won’t go into all the details of how my insurance works with my missions agency but when I go to a doctor, I pay the full cost of the visit right then. So, needless to say, I was a bit nervous about this appointment. When I talked with them on the phone, they mentioned that I would most likely need x-rays. All I could think of was how much this was all going to cost in the end.

I arrived early to my appointment today, finished paperwork in hand. It all went rather quickly. I expected to wait awhile but I was moved from place to place. It was determined that I needed x-rays and in no time, those were done and I was waiting for the doctor to come in. He looked over my x-rays, checked out my knee and determined that he didn’t think that surgery was necessary (PRAISE GOD!) He gave me a cortisone shot (which, by the way, made my knee feel numb and it's still numbish) and said he’d be back with a sheet on knee exercises that would help.

He walked back in the room, handed me the sheet as well as another form and told me to take it to check out. He pointed to a part of the form, said, “Merry Christmas!” and walked out. As he walked out, I looked on the form and it was written, “NO CHARGES”.

Underlined. 

Twice.

It clicked in and I can’t even remember the exact words that came out of my mouth. I think it was a mix of “oh my gosh!” and “are you serious?” and “thank you!” so good chance it came out as, “Oh my serious YOU!”.

He left me alone in the room. Tears sprung in my eyes and I choked back sobs. Tears are still coming to my eyes as I think of it. As I drove to my next appointment, I kept tearing up, still trying to choke back sobs as I praised God. On that note, I probably shouldn’t have driven right after that...

I have no idea why he did that. Maybe he saw that I didn’t have insurance? Maybe he saw that my occupation was a missionary? It was nothing that we talked about. I have no clue. I’m still amazed.

What do I know?

Jehovah Jireh. He is my Provider.

Learning From Scars

What do you think of when you hear the word "scar"?  

Maybe you think of this:

 

I think of something different (although, clearly, The Lion King's scary villain will never be forgotten).   

I was in second grade. My two friends, Bethany and Daniel, and I were bored out of our MINDS waiting for our parents after church. We decided to play tag in the nursery room with various things being “base”. We had probably played at least ten rounds (seriously, our parents were talking FOREVER) when one of them suggested that we use the window as base. At one point, Daniel was guarding Bethany for what seemed like forever (apparently I wasn’t good at assessing time at that age…or just really impatient) and I was getting bored. I decided to bust it from where I was and to head towards the window. Daniel was close and if I didn’t run fast then I’d for sure be caught. The problem with getting caught? Hellooo, I’d get cooties ALL OVER ME. We couldn’t have that. So, fists clenched, I ran as fast as I could. I reached the window, flung my right hand towards it for safety and instead of releasing my fist, I kept it going…through the window.   

I was in shock from that moment on.  

 

I remember walking out of the room and standing in the doorway watching the blood drip. I remember the pastor’s 4 year old son asking me if I had a “boo boo” and if he could kiss it. Still in shock, my lack of response had him scampering off. It felt like forever that I was standing there (seriously, what were those two doing in there besides NOT coming to my rescue?)…until it all kicked in and I screamed bloody murder. An ambulance had to be called as I was losing quite a bit of blood. I remember riding in the back of the ambulance. I remember everything going fuzzy as I went into surgery. I remember the dryness of my throat as I woke up. I remember those few days in the hospital. I ESPECIALLY remember the utter and ridiculous pain of them taking out my stitches a few weeks later (still bitter about that).     

Growing up, I learned a lot through that experience. I learned my left and right by looking at my wrists (scar = right. No scar = left. Confession: I still do that to this day). I learned that playing with glass is a big no-no, especially when the game involves running full force towards glass (how was I not a child prodigy?).    

Every day, I see those scars and remember. It’s a reminder of a traumatic experience. It’s a reminder of pain.  

I have more than physical scars from my life. We all do.  And we can all choose what those scars mean. They can be something we learn from (ie. don’t run towards glass) or we can keep repeating them. We can choose to heal from them or we can keep ripping off the scabs.

As cheesy as it sounds, when I walked to the ambulance that night, I remember this feeling of peace and calm come over me. I knew at that moment that God was in control and that everything would be ok.  And that truth hasn’t changed. In all of my scarring moments throughout my life, He’s been there.

He’s there in the hurt.  He’s there in the pain.  He doesn’t leave.

Luckiest Girl In The World

God gives us far more than we deserve.

More specifically, God has given me far more than I deserve.

It’s been a ten-year journey that God has brought me through to get me where I am now. While those ten years are dotted with specific steps towards my journey, God began this far before I even knew.

In June, I went to WorldVenture headquarters for my final interview and training. My first day there I met with a counselor to go over the results of the 5000000 psych and personality exams that I had taken (they seriously don’t joke around with who they accept). One of their goals (beyond confirming that I’m not crazy which, officially, I’m not. Whew) is to make sure that my personality and gifts match up with what I’m going to do overseas.

When people would ask me what I wanted to be some day, I never knew what to say. I was never especially good at anything. I definitely had no athletic ability (my brothers stole every gene for that). I wasn’t especially good at school. I’ve always loved music but lack any kind of musical talent. I always liked reading and writing but I wasn’t good enough to go for a career opportunity in that. Because of this, I didn’t have a clue what I would major in at college or what job I’d have some day. I often felt discouraged and lost.

As the counselor was going over my exam results, she made a startling insight:

“Sarah, with your personality and gifts, you are exactly gifted for what you are going to be doing.”

My eyes filled with tears. How long I had waited to see how God would use me. How long I had wondered what I could possibly be gifted for. How long I had wondered what would fulfill and excite me.

This means that when God was forming me in my mom’s womb…not only creating my physical attributes but my personality and talents…He had a plan. This was not just any plan. This was a specific and beautiful plan that would take 29 years for me to see what was happening. God has been putting this puzzle of my life together and I had yet to see what the picture could even begin to look like. It has been this last year of pieces that I’ve at last been able to glimpse at what the final puzzle could look like. The puzzle is just beginning, really. There’s so much more that He will add. And it’s stunning. It’s more beautiful than I could have dreamed.

I am humbled.

I am unworthy.

I don’t deserve this.

I know so many people that have desires, gifts and talents that they want to use for God but for some reason, the door hasn’t opened. They’re in places that they don’t understand. I’ve been there and it’s beyond painful to watch my dear friends go through it. My heart aches. I feel the excitement of seeing God’s puzzle for my life and I desire that for all of those around me. I want them to have that peace. I want them to have that joy. God's plans aren't my plans though. God's timing isn't my timing. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand what God is doing.

I don’t deserve this.

When people tell me that they can’t believe that I’m going to move to Africa forever, I want to tell them that, really, I’m the luckiest girl in the world. I get to do what God has put in my heart to do…and what could possibly be better than that?

There’s nothing better.

I’m the luckiest girl in the world.

Sensing Memories

I told you about that wretched drive down to Atlanta this past weekend. Despite the frustrations, there was a positive.  It was the perfect time of year to take a road trip. The whole drive, I was enamored by the gorgeous trees that lined the road. Bright yellows, reds and oranges. It was downright distracting. I often caught myself smiling at the beauty, praising God for His beautiful display. He was seriously showing off...and I loved it.

So much of memory is in our senses: the smell, the taste, the touch, the sight, the sound. Fall is such a distinct season that all of these memories have been rushing back. The smell of cinnamon and apple pie. The stunning sight of trees changing color. The sound of leaves crunching beneath my shoe. The taste of pumpkin and apple cider. The feel of cold against my skin. I feel like I’m experiencing them all again for the first time with a child-like wonder. These were the kinds of senses that I missed while in Uganda.

Oddly enough, I was able to experience a sense of Uganda this past week. I stopped by my Kenyan parents (translation: a couple who are like my parents who are Kenyan) house for a quick visit.

Sidenote: It’s so weird how we’ve changed places. I first met my Kenyan parents when they were still living in Kenya on my first trip there. Now, I live in Africa and they live in America. Weird.

My Kenyan mom mentioned that they could buy cassava in Lynchburg. Cassava is a root that tastes like mashed potatoes but has a different texture. Very distinct. Very starchy. Very African. 

She went right away to the kitchen to make some for me. With my first bite, the memories came back. I was immediately transported back to Uganda. 

There I was in Gulu at our feeding center eating cassava with the kids.

There I was in our office eating the fried salty cassava that Francis brought in (which, to this day, was the best cassava that I’d ever had…probably because it was fried and salty). 

While I can’t say that I’ve been craving Ugandan food in the States (starch starch starch starch and more starch, anyone? Although if you put a plate of matooke with gnut sauce on top, I'd be all over it), it took me back to that place that I love and made me feel a little sense of home here.

What are some senses that bring back memories for you?

Control Issues

You know those days when everything goes wrong? That was my Friday.

I planned to drive down to Atlanta yesterday at noon. I had reserved a car with a certain car rental company that rhymes with "Schmenterprise". After waiting 20 minutes in line behind some (shady) guy (who was getting asked about his full background info, making him seem even more shady), I was informed that they had no cars to rent. 

A car rental place. 

That I had reserved a car with. 

That had no cars. 

Something is very very wrong with this picture. They offered no help after that so I drove to another rental place (Hertz to the rescue!) and finally got on the road.

With an hour delay to my trip, I was ready to get to Atlanta. Sadly, Atlanta was apparently not ready to have me.

There was a major accident right before Charlotte. Major as in the entire interstate on the other side was completely blocked off. Three ambulances. One firetruck. Many police cars. Lots of stopped traffic. Once I got through that, it was all stopped again. Due to my numerous delays, I ended up hitting rush hour evening traffic all throughout South Carolina.

Stop. Go. Stop. Go.

I was really really ready to get to Atlanta.

I got to my friend’s house over two hours later than expected. We had decided to wait for dinner until I got there. Needless to say, we devoured dinner after 9pm.

I hit the point before I even left Lynchburg where I just gave up. Not in a bad way though. It was a giving up of control. I knew that I could do nothing that would change the situation so I just resolved that I would get there when I got there and not stress out about it. 

There’s so much in my life right now that I have no control over. Perhaps God was giving me a hint for everything else: “Give it up. You’re not in control. I AM.”

Easier said than done, right? 

What’s something that you’ve given up having control over?