This blog post is ripped right off of HopeChest CEO Tom Davis’ blog.  This is really going on in our world right now as we drink our mochas and swim with our kids. 

Please read in Tom’s words:

Okay, yesterday, I was excited and a little nervous.  I hope I love Adacar!  I mean, I was pretty darn sure that I would, since God kind of gave me Adacar (God working through Brandi gave me Adacar!).  I didn’t know what to expect.  It’s such a new carepoint, that I wasn’t expecting anything at all.  We arrived in Adacar (Yep, the sign there spells it with all “a’s.”) and the children greeted us sitting in their outdoor classroom under a huge tree.  They sang us several songs, in 3-part harmony, and I got to greet them on behalf of Peachtree City and all their friends in the Atlanta area!  Greg and I taught them “My God is So Big,” then we got out games and beads for necklaces.  They were very orderly and said thank you.  We handed out beads and strings on and on and on and the line never shortened.  There are so many kids here.  We have about 300 identified kids for the program, but there are so many more and they kept coming and coming and coming.  I love Adacar.  God really is so very cool, allowing me to work there.  Of all the places I’ve visited this week, I love it the most.  It is so remote.  No power, no cars, nothing but an enormous sky with fluffy, puffy clouds stretching for forever in all directions.  Sky and kids.  Lots of them.

I can’t hit everything that’s happened in the last two days, so I’ll just try to tell a few stories, some beautiful, and some terrible, some encouraging, some discouraging, but all motivating.  Yesterday, we found George William, our sponsored child, who is Elliott’s age.  He was very scared of us, and I quickly backed away and tried to avoid him, because he cried and thrashed whenever I got close!  Awhile later, a young teenaged girl grabbed my hand and pulled me into a concrete building.  They had George cornered in there and were whipping him to try to make him come to me.  He was sobbing and bleating like a hurt animal and writhing on the ground.  The girls were trying to please me.  I shouted, “No-no-no-no-no!!!” But they kept on, so I left, thinking that they’d stop when I leave.  I started sobbing and Greg immediately went in and saved George.  I had to get back on the bus and put my sunglasses on to hide my tears.  I pulled myself together, took a deep breath, wiped my cheeks, and got back out of the bus.  I think everyone thought I was sad because George wouldn’t come to me, not because they’d just beat my boy!  I want to make sure and clarify that his tormentors were young girls, maybe 12-14 years old, not the disciplers or leaders of the community.  Alex went into George’s torture chamber and gave him a lollipop.  George immediately perked up and let Alex hold him for a long time.  I gave him a second pop and rubbed his back.  He’s the same size as Elliott and so shy and precious.  It kills me that he received a beating because of me.  Today I sat down next to him and tried to give him a pop, but he started whimpering and wouldn’t take it.  He associates me with his pain, probably thinks that I caused it.  I’m wrecked about it.  Alex played with him all morning, so at least he’s comfortable with his sponsor dad.  George doesn’t have a daddy here, so I’m glad that he got some quality time with the best daddy in the world.

I spent much of my time in Adacar speaking with Greg and Joseph and learning about the area, the needs here, and talking about our development plan.  There are actually three communities colliding at Adacar, so we have a monumental task ahead.  The well is broken, so we got a mechanic out today to access the damage.  First step.  I have more information and some really positive news, but I’ll wait to share everything until I have a better picture.  So far, we’ve started a daily feeding program for the kids, which includes meat once a week, we’ve hired two disciplers to work with them, and we have the money for the kitchen.  We are in phase one of a three-phase development plan.  My visit to Kayango gives me hope for the future.  Today Colleen, the nurse who came on the trip, spent all day assessing children.  Ringworm is rampant.  There was a young woman with a broken wrist, and they got her to the hospital in Katakwi to have it set.  Total cost for transport and hospital visit?  $10.  An impossible figure for her.

Yesterday, we helped cook and serve the food, including meat for the kids.  We kept scooping, scooping, scooping until we ran out of meat.  We kept scooping, scooping, scooping until we ran out of broth.  We kept scooping, scooping, scooping until we ran out of rice.  We fed 400 kids, but over 500 showed up.  Our hearts were heavy last night knowing that there were over 100 kids at Adacar with rumbly tummies.

I was on broth scooping duty, and as I ran out of broth, Joseph pulled me out and told me that we were going to see Bosco a day early.  Stomach flop, and I was immediately self-conscious of the chicken broth stains down my skirt and congealed chicken fat between my toes.  As I walked away from the feeding area, I knew that we were almost out of rice, and I walked past a long line of children waiting and the older children waiting patiently under the big tree.  Oh no.  Do none of them have plates?  No, no.   Oh no. 

Alex and I piled into the truck with Joseph and took off for Ngarium.  We arrived to find Christine, his mother, the Teso widow for the area, Joyce, and the elders of the community meeting to plan a big celebration in our honor for the following day, when we were expected.  Surprise!  We’re a day early!  We felt bad.  Everyone had pooled their food to cook a big meal.  When they saw us arrive, Christine got in the truck with us and everyone else filed away.  Meeting adjourned.  The celebration starts now.

Bosco was washing clothes when we arrived at his home, and someone went to fetch him.  While we waited for him, Christine and several elders of the community brought us chairs.  Everyone grouped around us.  I got out bubbles and started blowing them at the kids.  They LOVED it.  Oklahoma peeps, bring lots of bubbles when you go in two weeks!  When Bosco walked up, I handed the bubbles to the girl in front of me and smiled at him. 

Rather than try to describe our meeting with Bosco, Alex recorded most of it, so when we get back home, he’ll edit it and stick it on the blog.  Our time together was a dream come true, and I can’t wait to share it with you.

Before, during, and after our time with Bosco, I was filled with so much joy.  I smiled so hard that my head hurt.  I was just so happy to be with him and his family.  Later that night, the hard reality of his life started to sink in.  We both held his baby brother, the one who had malaria.  Joseph said he looked worse than when he’d seen him a couple of months ago.  His hair was too light, his nose was running, he was congested, and he had a cough.  I have no idea what’s going to happen to him.  Bosco is 13, but he looks about 8.  Christine has 5 kids, and after Bosco, the other ones are spaced about a year apart.  Bosco’s leg is healing, but he still has pain near his ankle.  The doctors have said that he needs more nutrients in his diet or he will not continue to heal.  Joseph has been supplying him with silverfish, which the doctors have said will help.  He explained to me what the leg looked like when he found him, and it’s so much worse than I could have ever imagined.  It was gangrenous and open all the way down to the bone, with pus oozing out from the bone.  The entire leg was covered with 1000s of flies, and at the knee, his bone was flaking off in pieces.  All this was happening to him and he had NO PAIN KILLER.  I cannot IMAGINE his agony.  And yet, while he was in this pain when Joseph came to profile him for sponsorship, he somehow managed to smile the sweetest smile for the picture that eventually made it to my refrigerator door. 

I am so thankful for the Oklahoma City team from Lindsey’s church going in two weeks.  Our time was so short.  I hated to leave so soon, but I’m comforted knowing that an awesome church is coming to spend time in Ngarium alone.  That all their focus will be on these sweet people.  I love being part of Ngarium’s sponsor team, knowing that I can pop over whenever I visit Adacar, but that this incredible church body is investing as a community in Bosco’s village.

We spent an interesting night in Katakwi.  No one showered, the electricity and water turned off at night around 10pm and turned back on this morning at 7am.  We stayed in concrete cell blocks, and some kind of wild beast thrashed against the fortified metal gate.  I actually got my best night’s sleep yet.  Maybe I like roughing it.
 
We all pooled the money that we’d collected in donations and agreed to use it on whatever need arose during our trip.  The hardest months for the people of Adacar are May and June, before the harvest.  They are hungry right now.  We took the money that we had and bought 20 100-kilo bags of posho (cornmeal, the staple of their diet).

We talked to the leaders of the community about who were the neediest members of the community, and we made 12 care packages, each made up of a 20-lb bag of posho, two bags of salt, a bottle of cooking oil, and a bar of soap.  We spent the morning with several of the community leaders walking to each homestead and distributing the care packages, singing “We Are Walking in the Light of God” in four-part harmony as we walked.  At each homestead (mud hut), we stopped and presented the gift and spoke a blessing or prayer over the recipient. 

At our second stop, we came to a 16-year-old girl whose father had died and mother had left.  She was taking care of her three younger siblings, and still managing to attend school and win first in her class for physics.  I stood there listening to the translator talk, and I felt prompted to ask David what the girl’s name was.  He looked at the list and said, “Harriot Achom.”  Our God is so good.  Alex will upload a video soon of my reaction to her name, but those of you who follow my blog know who this is.

God continues to lay Harriot’s name on my heart.  It started at the dinner in Canton, when Brandi pulled her packet out of 150 packets and mentioned this young girl during her talk.  I felt led to search for her in my pile of profile packets.  I prayed specifically for the kind of woman that I thought Harriot needed, and God let me to Kathleen, the perfect sponsor for Harriot (Kathleen, I will call you when I get back sweet woman!).  Throughout the trip, He continued to bring her name to my mind.  Harriot Achom.  Harriot Achom.  And out of 500+ kids in Adacar and only 12 homestead visits, God led me to Harriot.  Our God knows His children, and He cares so deeply about each one.  I am so blessed to be part of His miraculous plan for her life.  He holds her so closely. 

After Harriot, we visited homestead after homestead, bringing provision.  Two stories that stick out are a young woman who had lost her husband to the Karamajong, and an elderly woman who had suffered a stroke four years ago and has not left her hut since.  If she needs to poop, she does it right there and has to wait for her elderly husband to clean her up.  She is gnarled and twisted and trapped by her earthly body.

After our 12 homestead visits, I returned to the bus to get the clothes that I had worn yesterday.  I headed out to give them to Margaret, the head widow for the district, to pass out to someone who needs them.  A few yards out of the bus, I see Harriot and her siblings.  Her younger sister’s dress is falling off of her.  Again, God provides for Harriot.  I hand the clothes to Harriot and she gives them to her sister.  Her sister smells them and smiles.  Clothes that seem dirty to me smell clean and are a blessing to her.  Harriot says, “God bless you.”  God bless me?  He is!  He’s blessing me like crazy just getting to be here with you!  Look at the lengths to which God has gone to bless you!  He teamed up a lady from Ohio and a chick from Georgia and sent the Georgia girl to the middle of Africa with provision for you, because you matter so, so, so, so much to Him!  I was able to tell Harriot about Kathleen, let her know that her discipler has her first sponsor mail from her, and how much God loves her and is watching out for her.  What an incredible encouragement from God.  I’m staring at the kids in Adacar, overwhelmed with the need and the numbers and He reminds me so clearly that it’s about one.  Each child has a name and a story.  And I get to be part of it.

The rest of the afternoon while people distributed bags of posho, I held a little girl in a tattered dress who clung to me with all of her strength.  I gave her lollipops, bounced her, sang to her, and twirled her around.  Marching for miles and singing all morning carrying 20-lb. bags of posho, followed by carrying a 35-lb. child all afternoon.  My arms feel like they’re going to fall off, but my spirit feels so good.  Now if only I didn’t have to leave.

We drove back to Soroti and had dinner at Joseph’s.  Delicious food, wonderful hospitality, and it was so nice to relax in his home and meet his family.  Our time with the kids is over.  The days were long and full, but the week has been too short.  I don’t want it to be over.

I wrote last week about sex trafficking.  My heart and mind are still swirling around this horrible reality.  This week, Children’s HopeChest has launched a couple of initiatives to help, and I want to pass them on to you.

First, here’s an incredible look at what’s happening in Moldova.  http://www.hopechest.org/sex_cafe-in-moldova/

Are you as pissed off as I am?  Then here’s how you can help.  http://www.hopechest.org/support-moldova/

Are you overwhelmed with the $400/MONTH price to help one person?  It’s a lot.  Think about getting together with a group of friends, maybe a Mom’s Club, Sunday school class, office, small group, neighborhood.  I’m getting together with my fellow Warrior Girls (We need satin jackets with our names embroidered on the backs, don’t you think?) to sponsor one victim.  If 16 people get together, that’s $25/month.  A huge group of people are CAUSING this problem, so we need a huge group of people to FIX it.  But just one person can start making a difference…and that could be you!  Start asking people to co-sponsor a girl with you. 

Here’s one more fabulous way to help restore the lives of orphans and trafficking victims, and it involves buying really pretty jewelry.  http://www.adoptionfathers.com/2010/04/11/supportyoungmothers/  The necklaces are made by JunkPosse, which, next to the paper bead necklaces made by Ugandan widows, is my favorite jewelry maker.  A great Mother’s Day gift!

After talking about Frannie Channie’s Crazy Love chapter 8 in group last night (I’m not sure how he’d feel about my nickname for him.), I’m thinking a ton today about how this life is temporary.  My home is temporary.  My family is temporary.  My stuff is temporary.  I love my life and my home and definitely adore my family and I like my stuff…but what am I doing in my life for the kingdom of God, the forever, ETERNAL kingdom of God?  I want to hold everything up to that standard. 

Today, I’m comfortable.  Life is good.  Life is easy.  I have a house with a decent roof and too much food in the fridge.  It’s easy to focus on this temporary world.  It’s easy for me to get distracted.  I like this temporary world too much.

For other people, this world is a nightmare.  Today, boys are stolen and forced to fight and kill.  Girls vanish and end up in sexual slavery.  Babies cry for food they’re never going to get.  Children suffer from illnesses that they can’t prevent and they can’t treat.  Mothers and fathers lie in huts waiting to die.  And on and on and on and on and my prayer today is that they would know that this world is temporary.  That our God has a better place, with no pain, and it’s waiting for them.  That He is preparing rooms for them in His house.  This life here on earth is temporary.  Jesus experienced their suffering; He conquered pain and death.  Their pain here is temporary.  I pray that the hurting victims of this world would reach out to Jesus and be filled with the peace that comes from knowing that this isn’t all there is.  There’s so much more.  And the last will be first and the meek will inherit the earth and things will be so incredibly good.  I pray that they would feel comfort.

My favorite genre is superheroes.  Is that a genre?  I adore superheroes.  Any movie or book or tv show that has characters with creative costumes and clever powers…I am a sucker for it.  My all-time favorite is Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  Okay, her creative costume typically consisted of tight jeans and a trendy top, but the powers?  Gotta love a high school girl who can stake a vampire while quipping.  Those of you who know me well know that if I start talking about Buffy I careen quickly from mildly intelligent, fairly normal Melanie into episode-quoting psycho-fan, so I won’t start, or this will turn into the Buffy blog and how insanely brilliant Joss Whedon is.  Deep breath, Mel.  Don’t go there.  What was I writing about?  Oh right, superheroes.  I love them.  I love X-Men, Spiderman, Batman, right, who doesn’t, but then I also can watch Aeon Flux and the Chronicles of Riddick over and over.  I love interesting characters who are gifted and use their gifts to help people.  Don’t even get me started on Lord of the Rings, because I will go to a hobbit-loving, ent-hugging place from which there is no elegant return.

I love heroes.  And this week, I’ve realized that my real heroes don’t have capes or tights or gadgets or masks.  They don’t fight evil robots or vampires or Lord Voldemort.  But they do fight bad guys.  They don’t defend the people of Metropolis or Middle Earth or Sunnydale.  But they do defend people.  My heroes are orphan sponsors.  My heroes fight injustice.  They fight poverty.  They sacrifice some of their own needs and wants to invest monthly in the life of a child.  My heroes beat back the darkness in the lives of kids who need them.  They rescue the fatherless from hopelessness.  They don’t wield a sword or a stake.  They wield the power of God.  They heal, they love, they are God’s hands.  My true heroes hug orphans.  Hug them with their letters, hug them with their sponsorship dollars, hug them with their arms.

Superheroes are my favorite.  I’m privileged to know a bunch.  And after next weekend, I’m gonna know a whole lot more.

Lately my Wednesdays have received a serious overhaul. Every Wednesday at 9:30am I join a group of amazing, sold-out-for-God-and-ending-poverty people for a conference call. We pray for orphans, injustice, and organizations helping orphans and injustice, and we fast together. While we fast, we memorize Isaiah 58, which explains the whole point of fasting in a way that I never really got before. Okay, so instead of just being really cranky and weak all day and secretly going, “What’s the point?”, I’ve been looking FORWARD to Wednesdays each week. Every Tuesday night, I get a little excited to spend an entire day with a physical reminder of what people living in poverty feel every day. I worship more sincerely, pray harder, and FEAST on the Word of God. At the end of the day, I break the fast, and my heart breaks as I think about how the kids for whom I’m praying don’t get to break the fast. They go days between meals, and when they do get something to eat, it’s not the homemade chicken pot pie that I made tonight.

If you’re interested in experiencing fasting in a whole new way, visit www.iFast58.org and join us on Wednesday mornings.