My favorite story from the day is of one of my Adacar sponsor moms who called me asking if there was still time to give.  Her daughter had accidentally hit a button on the computer which caused my blog to pop up.  This sponsor mom read about what we were doing and thought, “Oh, I wish we could help, but we don’t have any extra right now.”  The mail arrived, and there was a surprise $500 check from a grandmother.  She immediately thought of the kids in India!  When I thanked this sponsor mom for choosing to spend her gift money on school fees for a child she’d never met, she answered, “How could I not?”  Wow!  I LOVE that!!  She had such joy and excitement in her voice, and that’s just it.  When we choose to give, not only does the recipient feel blessed, but so do we!  We are filled with joy and exuberance, and it’s such a fulfilling act of worship to God, who gives so generously to us.  Last Wednesday was such a special day.  I loved asking BIG and seeing my God respond even BIGGER.

I remember all those years that I begged and begged God to be a mother, to watch Alex be a father.  I am so grateful for Elliott.  And I’m so grateful that God chose to answer my begs in a way that I never saw coming.  What a privilege to spend the day celebrating my incredible husband, my brother, also an awesome father, and my dad, the most amazing role model a girl could have and the most loving and compassionate and godly man on the planet.  I am so blessed to have these men in my life, and I’m so blessed to have them in the life of my son.  Tonight I’m filled with equal parts joy for the father in my life and anguish for the millions of kids without daddies to hold them.  I’m so in love with the Father to the fatherless. 

God, in this broken world filled with hurting kids, be enough for them tonight.  Show them how much You love them.  Fill their hearts with God-powered Daddy-love.

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.

“We are taking the longer road, which is longer than the shorter road.” (Reference to how we are getting to Adecar)

“I thought that I had eaten breakfast, but then I remembered that I was hungry, so I must not have eaten breakfast. I went back and got something to eat.” (Reference to why Joseph was late taking the team to Nabukalu)

“I do not know how far it is, but it is not very far.” (Reference to proximity to Adecar)

“I am a friend of the peanut butter.” (Reference to peanut butter bar given to Joseph for a snack)

At the other care points that we’ve visited so far there have been about 100 kids. In Adecar, we have close to 400. Many of the needs are clear in the eyes of the kids, which are yellow from malnutrition. It doesn’t seem to dampen their spirits or their smiles though.

I play soccer for a while. The kids laugh at me as they kick the ball through my legs. Each child wants to challenge me to a one-on-one or a sprint. A teenager turns to me and asks that I take him to America. “Where?” I ask. “Anywhere is fine,” he replies. My heart hurts a little.

I sweat through my shirt and decide to rest and paint nails for a while. All of the kids (male and female) want their fingernails painted. One child has 6 fingers and seems shy about holding out her hand. Megan pulls up her hand, smiles and paints all six nails like nothing’s wrong. The child smiles back.

We find George. He’s trying to hide from us. Scared of the mazungos (white people), I guess. Some teens — thinking that they are helping — spank George to get him to speak to us. We run to stop them. I hold out a lollipop, and George stops crying. Candy — the international language. I tell him that I’m his sponsor and ask if it’s ok to hold him. The woman holding his hand translates. He nods his heads and walks into my arms. He weighs about the same as my own son. He rests his head on my shoulder and sucks on his lollipop. We stay that way for a while.

Lunch is served. I marvel at how hard the women work to cook for hundreds of children. I’m exhausted watching them. George hops down from my arms and runs to the front of the line. Sadly, we run out of meat for the kids. It’s the one day of the week that they get meat. With the money we’ve raised for the trip, we’re able to buy 1600 kilos of posho, which will last for a little while.

Worried about the rain, Joseph hurries Melanie and I off to visit Bosco, our sponsored child in Ngarium (they are expecting us the next day, but the roads are impassable in the rain). We arrive to see the community planning a banquet to honor us for helping to save Bosco’s infected leg. (Last year, we helped Bosco get surgery to keep him from dieing from an infected leg wound.) Unfortunately, we won‘t be able to participate in the banquet, since we are a day early, but we are able to sit with Bosco and his family along with other community members. Melanie gives Bosco a Kentucky shirt and his mother a dress and then shows Bosco photos of our family back in the U.S. as Joseph translates the captions.

And now I’m back in bed wishing I could have done more for Bosco today, but knowing that we will see each other again. Tomorrow is our last day in Adecar … the last community we will visit for our trip to Africa. I’m sad. Well, it’s time for me to go to sleep. Some animal (sounds like a lion or a pack of wild dogs) is howling outside the back gate, and bats are having some kind of mating ritual in the open attic above our hotel room. Do mosquito nets keep out bats?!

Fast forward — we’re painting the latrines bright orange — my favorite color. Happy.

The children welcome us again with songs and dance, and we share beads and balls with them — we’ve figured out the system now so we are able to give out things evenly. The kids are mesmerized by my video camera as I take video of them and then play it back. It just feels good to sit with them as they each practice their English on me and then laugh at me when I attempt their language.

Time to go. It’s been too short. The kids run after our bus as we leave. Sadness.

We make the long haul to Soroti (Soroti House). Driving in Uganda is a little crazy — definitely stretches my faith in new ways. I think I might be able to shake hands with drivers in passing vehicles. A few hours into the trip, we have to turn back. The other car has broken down on the side of the road. After we all jump out of the bus to stare at the engine like we know what we’re doing, we decide to tow the car to a safer location and deal with it later. Car problems seem to be a running theme on this mission trip.

We crash at Soroti House. Amazing food! Seconds for me.

We spend most of the day playing with the kids — handing out handmade dresses and stringing together beaded necklaces. The kids are so eager to get their gifts that they overrun us, and we have to escape to the bus — phew. We definitely need to come up with a better game plan.

I break out some balls and 40 kids challenge me to a soccer game. I keep up with them fairly well until a sink hole wrenches my knee. I hobble of the field — humbled but no broken bones — thank you, Lord.

We say goodbye to the kids and head to the hotel in Bugiri. During my freezing shower, I am repeatedly shocked by the shower knobs. That can’t be good. I turn off the light and the electric shock sends me across the room — I’m getting out of this torture chamber. Melanie and I squeeze into our tiny bed and turn in shifts to tuck in the mosquito nets. I watch a gecko scurry across the ceiling — maybe he’ll catch that spider who has been eyeing my pillow. Time for sleep. Pitch black. The kind of black that makes you forget the light. I squeeze my pillow a little harder and listen as mosquitoes dive bomb the net. Bzzzzz. Bzzzzz. Bzzzz. I hope that the force field holds.