This morning at Southside Church we saw over one hundred kids get sponsored.  The Daraja Children’s Choir led worship, and I mean WORSHIP, not just performance.  We got to experience a slice of heaven, joining with these kids to glorify our Father.  It was beautiful.  It was powerful.  And then somehow Alex and I propelled our bodies onto the stage and the Holy Spirit took over and made the words come out of our mouths.  He gave us a glorious reprieve from nervousness and allowed us to have fun sharing how our sponsor kids have touched our lives.  We got to share with our church family about the other family that God has placed in our hearts, the kids of Adacar.  While speaking about the community to community model of Children’s HopeChest and the power of the local church, I felt so grateful for MY church, that they want to experience this together, to extend ourselves to Uganda and partner with Adacar.  The Daraja kids sang, “Church arise, come alive.”  Today, Southside did just that for the kids in Africa.  I love my church.  I am so proud of my church.  Daraja sang a song that reduced me to a puddle, “I am not forgotten; God knows my name.”  Yes!  That’s the power of sponsorship, of building a relationship with a child halfway around the world.  To let that child know, “God knows your name.  You are not forgotten.  I know your name, and God has placed you on my heart and in my family.”  It’s happened for us with Bosco and George.  Kathleen has Harriet.  Then there’s Meribu and Florence and Mary and Simon Peter and on and on and on, kids who are not forgotten.  God knows their names, every name, and He can use US, the local church, as His provision for them.  “Arise, let the church arise!”  And now that we’re awake, let’s never go back to sleep.

I’ve been avoiding my blog.  Well, actually, not avoiding it.  Every day since I got back from Uganda, I’ve logged on, stared at my blog, and logged off.  I think I had to cycle through a bunch of stuff before I was ready to write again.  I’m not sure that I’m ready to write even still.  For the first week after our return, I felt pissy and annoyed.  So weird, because I thought somehow that I’d return being uber-spiritual or something.  Yep, not so much.  I felt like my work in Uganda wasn’t finished and yet somehow I was back and supposed to just pick up my life here.  It felt like nothing here mattered.  I was, well, depressed.  Instead of digging into the Bible and drawing closer to God, I sat on the couch watching TV and eating M&Ms right out of the one-pound bag.  (Not that there’s anything wrong with that….)

Then last week, something shifted inside of me.  My sense of purpose returned.  I am here to advocate for these kids, to be their voice.  I don’t get to love them with my hugs right now, but I do get to love them by telling their stories, sharing their pictures.  I love them by letting God use me to find them sponsor families.  Right now, it’s enough.  It’s what it needs to be. 

So, I started out as woo-hoo girl, an extremely excited warrior ready to beat back the forces of darkness and beat down poverty with my enthusiasm.  Then I saw said poverty and lost my woo and hoo for awhile.  Warrior Girl had to freak out and numb out and figure out.  Now, my woo-hoo is bigger than ever, my convictions stronger than ever before.  Armed with stories that I’ve seen with my own eyes and smelled with my own nose and felt with my own fingers and toes, I am reentering the battle fully submitted to the only Warrior powerful enough to love these kids unconditionally, save these kids from destruction, and call each one tenderly by name.  My God, the Rock of my salvation.  Where I am weak and self-serving, He is strong and boundless in His love.  He does not take M&M breaks (Not that there’s anything wrong with that….).

Not hurting my joy-mood in the least:  Joseph just Facebooked me this about Bosco: “I found Bosco playing soccer and running around with other boys, I mean big boys!”  Um, how much does our God love?  Bosco, who wasn’t going to live.  Bosco, who wasn’t going to keep his leg.  Bosco, who’s prognosis was doubtful.  Bosco, an orphan in a picture-the-most-remote-place-you-can-and-go-further village in Africa with gangrene taking over half his leg a few short months ago is PLAYING SOCCER!!!  My God can do ANYTHING.

Here is part of my meeting with Harriet.  When Alex saw my reaction to her name, he started filming the crazy muzungu crying and hugging the bewildered African girl.  One of the biggest lessons that God laid on my heart while I was over there is how much He loves each one of us.  There is no end to the extent of His love.  He holds us in His hands.  Each of these precious orphans is His special child. 

On the bus on the way to Adacar the morning that we met Harriet, God led me to Acts 4.  I shared with some of the team on the bus the following verse: “They did what Your power and will had decided beforehand should happen” (Acts 4:28), saying that God had already decided beforehand what would happen in Adacar that day.  It wasn’t up to us what would happen.  God had already decided, and we just needed to be ready and willing to be His hands and feet.  I had no idea that God had decided to lead us right to Harriet’s home!

Check out the following video, which features photos from four of the HopeChest care points we visisted in Uganda.  Most of the photos are provided courtesy of Ashley Bryan from Embrace Point.

Overwhelmed.  Not sure what to think.  How do I pick up my life and keep going like everything’s the same?  It’s not.  Not sure how to answer when people ask, “How was it?”  Wish I had a 3-sentence answer that covers everything.  Not happening. 

Read back through posts.  I did want to clarify one thing.  The 20 100-kilo bags of posho that we bought with donations.  We used a small part of it for the 12 homestead visits, and we distributed the rest of it to people in a line.  Women brought scarves and bags that we filled with scoops of posho until it ran out.

Update on the well: After getting representatives from all three communities who use the broken well, along with a mechanic, to look at the well, we’ve gotten agreement to fix it and we’ve gotten an accurate assessment of what it’ll take to do that.  Hopefully the people of Adacar will be drinking clean water very soon.

After Adacar, the rest of the trip was fun.  Hard to transition from what we were doing to being tourists all of a sudden.  We drove back to Jinja, stopping along the way to feed a baboon.  We took a boat ride on the Nile, to the source of the Nile, and a tour group of school boys from Kenya took pictures of the white people.  WE were the tourist attraction for them.  Ha! 

We ate a fabulous meal at the Gately, and it was very weird to see other muzungus.  I was almost like, “What are YOU doing here?”  Oh yeah, I’m white, too.   It was good to spend time as a team and process the week.  The next day, Arthur stopped by our hotel with paper bead necklaces made by the girls and disciplers at Rapha.  I bought a ton of them to sell and raise money for the kids.  We left for Kampala and the market.  I bought more beads there, and Martin and I bought drums to bring back.  I can’t wait to see some of those drums played at Southside, and I gave two to Elliott.  I have dreams of him playing a jimbe with some boys in Adacar some day.   The muzungu better start practicing now.

Okay, now I’m just typing because I’m not sure what to do if I get up from this computer.  I guess I’ll start with laundry, maybe make a list or two…maybe sob hysterically, then laugh really hard.  I wish I could be in two places at once, because I love life here but I’m not ready to be here.  I’m not fully here.  I’m somewhere in between, dangling over the Atlantic, equally comfortable surrounded by dirty children or drinking Starbucks.  Not sure what the answer is.  My spirit is not comfortable.  But I guess that’s a good thing. 

Lord, unsettle me.  Keep me from the comfort that stagnates my soul.  I want to be restless in Your Name.