hot tears

A week ago I left the place where “flashing” means letting the phone ring a few times then hanging up, an “it’s okay” response to a yes or no question means yes, and chickens & babies crawl over the office floors.

Where being an auntie has nothing to do with blood relation, becoming a country director makes you a Mama to many, and where when I see something scurrying out of the corner of my eye in my house it can only be 1 of 3 things:  a lizard, cockroach, or GusGus (the universal name for our unwanted mice).

Where my boda ride home at the end of the day is a form of detox, the Aristocrats tune is sang, “evvrray bahday… evvrray bahday… evvrray bahday wahhs to bee a cahh” by 17 of the most precious voices, and an acceptable answer to the interview question, “choose 3 words to describe yourself” is “short, black, and beautiful.”

While it was unbearably hard to leave, it was worth every bit. He knew what He was doing when He asked me to go to Uganda. The fact that it felt like a part of my heart was being ripped out of me is proof that He knew what He was doing. And He still knows what He is doing having me leave.

I had absolutely no idea how much I would fall in love with the place and these people. Evidence: see blogs from the beginning. Confession: it used to give me peace to count the months until I was going home, and now I’m praying He gives me the means to come back and visit. Mission work is not glamorous by ANY means. But the relationships I’ve built in Uganda have enlarged my heart and opened it to love more. Not because of anything I’ve done, but it’s like these people (the women, girls, staff, volunteers) have attached a piece of them on to my heart – making it all types of swole. 

As much as I loved the smooth and good parts of my time there, my season or growth wouldn't have been as colorful or deep with out the rough patches. And let me tell you... there were definitely some hot tears shed, with a range of reason.

One day I found myself yelling at a slammed door at the girls home with little Jackie on the other side who was exhibiting completely unacceptable behavior. That little one knew just how to push my buttons and enjoyed doing it. I felt helpless and inadequate – 

hot tears came.

Trying to get a type of certificate for Zion Project from Kampala I was sent in circles, pushed off to other people, and told about 12 different conflicting ideas about the ‘way it worked’.  I did my best to hold it back, but even in their office they leaked out…

 hot tears.

While our social worker was briefing me on her one on one sessions with the girls, my fury level shot through the roof. They were telling her things that happened to them in the past, things I’ve read before. But this time they were retelling it and reliving the pain to receive healing. 

And again they came... 

the hot tears.

After hearing that one my friends’ friends was now in a relationship in the states an uncontrollable amount of jealousy filled me. I didn’t even know the chick! Wasn’t even upset at her. Reminder: me - single girl in Uganda. Likelihood and priority of finding prince Charming… both low. But that just opened up a whole can of doubt I didn’t know I had for the Lord; beyond my relationship status. I hopped on the boda to work that morning with 

hot tears flying off my cheeks.

After a staff meeting, being overwhelmed with the 27 things to do – 13 of which I had no idea how to do – a deep breath felt like a novelty. Walked into my office, shut the door, sunk in my chair, buried my head in my arms and all in a wave, 

hot tears.

Sharing with the women during my surprise going away lunch party holding back hot tears… saying goodbye to the girls and letting those

 hot tears stroll down.

heavy feelings. unchangeable growth. all part of His plan.

I wasn’t prepared for my emotions when it actually sunk it that I was leaving. I think it hit me as I was on the bus down to Kampala. From that point up until I fell asleep in England at my dad’s I was fighting back hot tears. People must have thought I was crazy standing in the line at immigration at Heathrow. One minute I’m fine, and the next I’m pink in the face with tears welling up and a clenched jaw trying to fight them back. Dad got a warm welcome with tears, that’s for sure!

When I left for Uganda, it was as if I was jumping from low bar to high bar (in gymnastics). I had to leap up and grip on to this new season. There was no hold on the other bar anymore. I became vulnerable without my comfort cloth of my own culture and sewed myself into Uganda's.  And now, after strengthening my grip on the high bar and swinging around for a bit, I’m being asked to fly right back down. Jumping from one world to the other. 

crazy current melody

Uh... scary news – I have nearly two months left of my African season. I can't believe how fast time has gone, and I'm not sure how okay I am with how fast it will continue to go. I'm already beginning to plan adventures after I arrive in London to visit with my dad and some family before I head back to the states. While I am excited to see family and be home, my heart isn't ready to leave this place, these people, or this season. (I'm acting like I take off tomorrow - confessions of a missionary drama queen)


But seriously. acca-believe it.

If I were to list things the Big Man has been teaching me while being here, one of the top five would be that I need to be honest with myself and Him. What I’m about to say may sound awful and only something a disturbed person would think - but I'm not going off the deep end, promise!


Over the past month or so I've realized I've hated saying certain things in my prayers:


"Dear Heavenly Father..." 

"please forgive me for..."

"thank You for...."

"fill me with.."

"in Jesus' name..."


It's not that I don't want to address Him, ask for forgiveness, thank Him, ask Him to fill me or close out with asking it on behalf of His Son - but I've been fluently speaking this Christian-ese since I was 6 years old. I say the same thing over and over. It becomes repetition and loses its weight. I don't pray so that I can feel something out of it, but I know something's up when those words taste like vinegar coming out of my mouth.


When I get married I hope my husband doesn't have the same conversation with me every day. That’d be hecka boring. And empty.


My prayers aren't the same all the time, but the repetition of parts makes me mad.


He's the Creator of the universe, and all I can give Him are the same words I said yesterday? woof.


For some reason I can't stand calling Him one out of three names I have for Him. The other morning I began writing in my journal, "Mornin' lads!!" (yes.. I address all three - God, Jesus and Holy Spirit)

A pinch of the problem…

I had the wonderful opportunity to go to Mto Moyoni the other week in Jinja. I went for Transformation of the Heart week, and let me tell ya, it sure was transforming! When I was there I was able to experience the Lord in a new and fresh way. I figured out part of my problem. I realized I had fallen victim to one of the biggest things I harp on with my faith. I had temporarily lost part of the relational aspect of my faith and it simply became religion.

“It’s a relationship, not a religion”

“It’s not about the rules or checking off the box”

These things I’ve heard all my life and fully believed, but without noticing I slipped right into religion. It wasn’t intentional. I wasn’t at odds with God. I was doing my quiet times, I didn’t feel like I was deliberately disobeying God with something (I know full well what that feels like), I’m serving in Uganda as a missionary – shouldn’t my relationship with God be nearly perfect? HA! Wrongo.

2 big lines I took away from Mto Moyoni:

“GOD CANNOT STOP LOVING YOU” & “It’s not about ministry, it’s about the heart”

I realized I got swept into the ministry and work that I was doing that I lost touch of Who I was doing it for… Who sent me... WHY He sent me… and who I am first, before a missionary: His daughter.

One of the 2 famous swings at Mto Moyoni.
We stayed right on the Nile in those beautiful huts!

About a month ago my friends and I went camping at Fort Patiko. Due to poor planning and a nice judo-kick to the bag of eggs while getting off the boda, we realized we didn’t bring enough water. In the morning we were rationing what we had left and soon ran out. It was all that was on our minds when we were about to make the hour ride home: WE. ARE. THIRSTY. I was dreaming of ice-cold water. I was losing strength. When I was returning back to the boda after retrieving my hat that flew off during the ride, Richard (our boda boda) was laughing at my sad attempt to run. The hot sun was not helping. Melissa and I must have asked Richard 12 times if there was a center with water coming up. FINALLY we reached a center with relatively cold water, juice, and soda. Ain't no juice or soda was going to quench my thrist. I knew what I needed. WATER. The instant I took the first few gulps it was as if I had forgotten how thirsty I just was.

 

Climbed up to watch the sunrise at Fort Patiko.
I was waiting for the Lion King intro song to bust out.
[photo credit: Tabitha Tice]

While struggling with lack of connection with the Lord in my faith, I wasn’t sure what I needed. I didn’t know what was going on. It just felt like I ran downstairs every morning, hopped up on the counter, asked God for what I needed for that day, gave Him a kiss on the cheek, hopped down and ran off. I was drinking temporarily satisfying juice. Not thirst-quenching water.

But not all of it.

I am still frustrated that I can communicate with Him only through words that feel somehow empty to me at times. Maybe as my relationship with Him grows, the weight to the words will as well? I’m a mess haha trying to figure out something I have been engaged in the majority of my life. This may sounds like word vomit (I'm good at that) actually written out, but it’s the current crazy melody in my head (=

Question of the day to Jesus:

Did you miss Your home (heaven) when You came to earth? 

[You must have... but did You ever daydream of instantly going back there? of walking through Target, embracing Your dad, eating yummy froyo?]

17

seventeen 

The number of faces I had to learn the first few days I got here.

The number of smiles my heart is melted by. 

The number of voices I now can tell the difference between. 

The number of hugs I was slammed with after stepping 2 feet 

into the compound my first night back.

Nancy   Jolly   Lucy   Doreen   Aloyo   Anita   Espe   Jacky   Gloria   Vero   Naomi   Fatuma   Charlie  Charlotte   Mercy   Afosina   Janet 

I forgot how much I love to squeeze them with love.

I forgot how much I love to wrap my arms around their heads and smother their cheeks with kisses.

I forgot how much I love being called Aunty. 

I forgot how small Gloria is, how dainty Aloyo's hands are, and how much Jacky loves to 'make my hair'. 

Modeling our beautiful chitenge!!
Jolly's in my arms and Lucy is behind me!

Essie made an appearance (;
One of the perks of them on holiday = they can wear nail polish!

When I returned from the states, our girls were still on their holiday break. This meant more play time! Spending more time with them reminds me why I am here. My heart is recharged in heaping amounts with each hug I get from them every time I visit their home. My heart does the strangest thing when I see them. I know I say this a lot, but it literally just  g u s h e s. Like gushers. (cravings have kicked into high speed here)

Each of these girls were only stories my heart broke for until I actually met them. And even now, when I see them I don't see their past. I see the the Lord's captivating new creation He is continuously clothing in healing and growth. 

My heart has been planted deep in the soil of Uganda and watered with tears & sweat, nourished with laughter & play, and grown by the greatest Gardener of all. He tends to the garden of my heart daily. Some days it feels like all He's doing is just letting the rakes dig and scrape over and rip up the old soil, while other days I feel like all I am doing is blooming and blossoming in the sun. 

I had never really thought about this until recently. About how the Lord specifically chose each of these 17 girls to be in Zion Project. To be loved on, grown, poured into, and groomed. Not everyone in this community has that opportunity. God has them here for a reason. I caught myself thinking of the day that Nancy puts on her graduation gown, or Charlie's hand is taken in marriage. Each one of them is a leader. They each have such potential to impact those who will be on their paths. 

Some days I can feel the Lord working through me and all I'm doing is being present. Then there are other days when I feel like I just have to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. I KNOW He is near, He is good, and He is faithful. He reminds me of truths that I can rest in, instead of leaning on good feelings or manageable circumstances. 

I get the image of a battle. Of me standing on the top of a hill, my hair - preferably curled - blowing in the wind  (stick with me...), with the face of a fighter on. God (Hulk x 77) and I are taking on Satan, and I'm shooting arrows as swiftly as Snow White from Once Upon a Time. After a few puny arrows flutter then flop in from Him, God turns around, bends down and looks at me. I look up with raised eyebrows and great big grin and He sweetly chuckles, then stands back up and proceeds to defeat Satan. 

I think I got that image to remind me of my role. Not that fighting Satan is any joking matter, but it's almost silly to think that what I will accomplish when I fight on my own strength will even make it across the frontline. "The Lord will fight FOR you, and you shall hold your peace." Exodus 14:14  It's a process to learn what holding my peace looks like here in Africa, but slowly slowly He's teaching me (;

sunset snapshots

Remember that one time I was attempting to blog every week?  …woops! I hope you’re hungry, because you are about to devour a dessert sampler platter of an entry. That’s right, folks! Butterscotch brownies, peach cobbler, Reeses cheesecake, rainbow sorbet, cinnamon scone… none of which go together, but I have to catch you up! I promise to try (emphasis, mine) and give just a taste of everything to avoid stuffing you. It may get lengthier in the end, but stick with me.

Let the tasting begin... 

T U R K E Y  D A Y 

CRUSHED it. & dessert plate #2

Melissa playing charades!

Up until I actually got to the house where our Thanksgiving was held, I hadn’t felt a hint of the holiday. I was soon met with delicious smells and wonderful families and friends, new and known. While I missed my family and LOVED Skyping with them at night, I have to admit it was probably one of my favorite Thanksgivings. It was nourishing to my soul to be with sweet company; my body got a little over-nourished, but when else was I going to eat pecan pie in Gulu?! We all hung out for hours eating, playing Settlers of Catan & charades among other games, eating, playing again… eating. (=

G L O R I A  G R A D U A T E D!!!

Our youngest in Zion, Gloria, graduated K3! This would be about the equivalent to kindergarten. One of the aunties, Joyce, and I attended the ceremony. It was a blast! Kids from all levels put on skits, read poems, had contests (one was a dressing contest to see how quickly they got ready in the morning… hah!) Gloria was the leader of her class and MEMORIZED a speech. I felt like a proud mama!

Little man was strugglin' but didn't find it necessary
to speed it up (=

Oh man.
My heart is swelling just looking that her.

That evening Jesus created my most treasured memory here so far. Gloria had received some small change as gifts. She asked me if I would take her down the street and help her buy sweet bread with it. So there I was, hand in hand with the most excited 7 year old I’ve seen. I love playing with all the girls, but there was something so special to me about taking JUST Gloria out to get her the graduation gift she wanted. After firmly declaring to not share with any of the sisters while walking home, she offered me some. I refused because it was her gift, but secretly I really wanted to try it. So, I gave in (; About 30 minutes after we got home she confessed to not listening to my advice about saving the other 2 pieces for tomorrow. “Auntie, I’m too full…”

Mercy's attempting to mock Gloria (;

S U R P R I S E S  &  S U N S E T  S N A P S H O T S 

December 14^th I flew home and surprised some family and friends! I held out on tell my mom… bad idea, scared her a bit. Sorry mom!! I treasured every maple yule log cookie I ate, each hug from family and friends, watching the Food Network, dinners, late night hang outs, driving, gym visits, talks, running to the grocery store, cold crunchy cereal in the mornings, getting beat at Just Dance by my little sisters… everything. But you know what I realized? I didn’t need the Lord as much in the states. I didn’t need to ask him to wrap me up with protection on each boda ride, or speak for me when trying to deeply connect cross culturally, or put the power on, or watch over me as I shut my eyes to sleep. I felt so distant at times because I simply didn’t need to rely on Him for things like I do here. And I hated that.  

I anticipated coming back to Uganda so I could need Him more. Oddly enough, I knew something was different the moment I left my family at the airport and walked into security. I had imagined it being a reenactment of my goodbyes in September, the first time I flew out to Uganda - but I didn’t feel nearly as nervous or torn this time around because I had more of an idea what I was flying to.

[ p a u s e ]

I have this analogy I like to call the sunset analogy (or sunrise, whatever tickles your fancy – I said it right, nins!) When going through seasons in life, sometimes I don’t feel or see a change at all because I’m presently in them. I’d like to believe I’m transforming but I have nothing to prove for it. Like when you watch a sunset: you know the sun is going down and the colors are taking turns looking like Trix yogurt, but you don’t see any major changes while staring at it the whole time. However, if you take your eyes off of the sky for just ONE minute then look back – it has changed drastically! I call it a sunset snapshot. You get a picture of what it looked like before you took your eyes off, wait a bit, and a picture of what it looks like after.

[r e s u m e]

God gave me a sunset snapshot at the airport. I could feel Him transforming me slightly while being in Uganda, but not drastically. It wasn’t until the second time leaving the US did I realize how genuinely scared out of my mind I was the first time. Truthfully, I had not ONE clue what I was doing! PS: whoever believes living the Christian life is boring - I'd like to see you abandon all and listen to Him. He created adventure - He'll bring you to the edge of your cliff and tell you to jump while catching you on the most action packed ride of your life. Now that I've returned with 2 volunteers, I'm getting sneaky snapshots of how the Lord's been growing me since being here (=

Soon after arriving in Uganda, I discovered myself actually missing feeling uncomfortable and scared here. I used to have to lean on the Lord for comfort while being here. I caught myself leaning on my familiarity for my comfort. Is my familiarity here a bad thing? Nope. But I’m learning how to see that as a blessing from the Lord, and not my crutch. I still need Him, desperately. But I see my need looking different every day.

I slyly mentioned I have 2 VOLUNTEERS HERE! Hailey and Emily (=  It feels so great to have them here. I usually did everything by myself, or when Sarah was here I’d run around with her. But now I get to spend a lot of time with them! It’s a bittersweet thing (I haven’t told them this… so I hope they don’t get offended!) But I feel like it’s somehow similar to when you get married. You have your single and alone time before – me during my first few months here having sweet intimacy with the Lord every minute because He was with me when no one else was. But now since I’m with people almost all the time, I miss out on individual times with Him. Nonetheless, I cannot see this time in Uganda looking any different (= My time with these girls is so nourishing and encouraging! I'm soaking in each minute with them. 

seasons

Scarves, boots, and jeans

PUMPKIN scones, spice lattes, and cupcakes

Beautiful JMU trees

s e a s o n   o f   f a l l

I love each season for what it brings. But fall's seasonal food&drinks, breathtaking colors, and crisp coolness all bundle into one big ball of joy for me! When Nina asked if she could send me any holiday-ish things, I asked for a seasonal Starbucks cup or napkins... what? I don't even drink coffee, but I love what fall brings to it! The next season here is the dry season during America's winter months. It speaks for itself: dry, hot, and even more dusty. While some of you will be having snow dustings, we'll be having dust dustings over here (=

Soo I've been living vicariously through my computer to get my fall fix. I can surprisingly get a decent fall dose through Foodgawker, Pinterest, Facebook pictures, and some commercial websites (Target, Starbucks, Dunkin Donuts...) As much as I want to jump into the screen to feel the crispness or smell pumpkin spice, my heart is so content as I lift my eyes and take in what I see: bright green trees exuding life, yellow flowers on a vine peaking over our tin 'wall' from our neighbors, and the hot sun baking the string of beads our women just varnished. I have had 21 Virginia falls; it's time for Uganda's! 

s e a s o n   o f   w a i t i n g

Christine was a volunteer before me at Zion Project over the summer. I've been talking with her and sharing different struggles (and silly stories!) that she can so closely identify with. Her words and prayers reach my heart so effectively. Lately I've been sharing how I have been getting frustrated with myself for the lack of connection with the women. How are you supposed to build on a relationship when the main way (verbal communication) is taken away from you? He's how. She urged me to cry out the same prayer she petitioned, "Lord, may the women and I develop relationships with connections that go deeper than words. Will you allow our spirits to communicate?" 

I desire deeper relationships. But I'm finding out that when I want to see things happening may not be aligned with His timing. I may have skipped a season or two when I envision where I want to be with them. Ultimately I know that having this season of waiting will make the future seasons much more fruitful. How can I expect them to trust a mzungu that just waltzes into their lives right away and forget the hardships and trust that was disoriented in their past? It takes time and a building of foundation. It's kind of like a TV show. You may want to jump ahead and watch season 3 because you see other people already there; but without watching seasons 1 or 2, season 3 just won't make quite as much sense.

s e a s o n  o f  U g a n d a

Knowing that my time in Uganda is a season in and of itself is a firm reminder and a passion igniter. My dear friend, Sarah, returned to the U.S. recently. While it was difficult to say goodbye, I am ecstatic for her next season of rest and eating yummy food. Sarah leaving reminded me that I won't be in Zion Project or Uganda forever. But for this specific time God has let me share life with the women, children, staff, and locals. It is my prayer that I don't miss out on ONE thing He's intended for me here. What a sweet season it is.

I pray hearing from Him is  n e v e r  just a season

I have been so hungry for fruit. [not like bananas or pineapples - which are going out of season! NO!!] But the fruit that comes from the Holy Spirit. I want to know more about His voice and what it sounds like. I've been spending some time meditating in the mornings. It is truly an achievement to quiet my mind without a to-do list or question I want to ask Him popping up, or laughing from hearing Stephen's backpack rattling because he's running to hop on the boda to school. But once He does get even just 3 minutes of my undivided attention, He uses it. The loudest thing I've heard from Him was to "let love lead". Sometimes He speaks to me in aliteration. Right before senior year He told me, "plant your passion in different pastures"...

Welp. These red dirt roads of Uganda are pretty different, if you ask me! So I've been praying to let love lead. Let love lead my actions, words, decisions, interactions, dispositions. Let love lead fear, anxiety, self-condemnation and lies right out of my heart/mind. God is love (1 John 4:8) & I want to let Him lead.

"There is a time for everything, and a season for everything under the heavens." 

Ecclesiastes 3:1

**that verse was told to Aunty Kevin by our girl Naome as she was crying while say bye to Sarah.

HAPPY EARLY THANKSGIVING! 

gifts

A little over a year ago, my beautiful family and I traveled to Florida to be apart of and witness the incredible wedding of Steph & Shannon. I'm starting off with this picture 1) because I miss each of them more than imaginable, and 2) because I'm thinking of the employee, Sean at the hotel we stayed at. Remember how we thought Sean reminded us of the character Ramone in the movie The Proposal? Sean filled every position in the hotel: receptionist, pool tender, towel runner, chauffeur, maintenance ... and many more. All with a smile, I might add.  Now this a stretch here, but lately I’m realizing how God is my ‘Sean’. He’s always been a God of many hats, but that is proving so true to me here. So far, the Lord has been my . . .

• Musician who sings me to sleep with His truths
• Guard when my eyes are closed once I do fall asleep
• Protector when I’m awake
•  Shield when I ride a boda; and guider of the boda when we fall
•  Weatherman when I’m in need of a cool breeze
•  Best friend to talk to 
• Disinfector of my toothbrush right after a cockroach had just crawled around it
• Doctor when I couldn’t get help right away for my burn; and for my eye when I forgot my drops in the US
• GPS in learning this town
• Stylist in the morning (yes… I do ask Him what I should wear for the day and for Him to do my hair sometimes. What... you don't?)   (;
• Cook when I’ve prayed to love every bite of food I take
•  Computer technician when I need a better connection to Skype with my friends and family
• Teacher in learning my position here
• Electrician when we need power

A God of many hats.
He is my  e v e r y t h i n g

You're welcome to put a little

Michael Buble sound to that  

gifts.gifts.gifts. 

Before I give someone a gift my excitement is nearly through the roof. I get all sorts of jittery like a ping pong ball was set off inside of me and hitting every pocket of "eeek!! (= " possible. To continue with the wedding theme, I'll give an example of my inability to contain my excitement during that time. 

I studied abroad in Italy last summer and picked out gifts for my family, including things for Steph & Shannon as they were about to enter their new married season! The items were supposed to be wedding gifts, but I was just too dang excited! Soo I caved the first time I saw her and gave them to Steph the night she landed in London. Woops...  

having a hot pad made for them in Perugia, Italy 

final product!

I wonder if the Lord gets any more excited than He already is right before we receive a gift from Him. Does He wait in anticipation, kneeling down, hands rubbing together and wide eyed as we see the gift, pull loose the ribbon and unwrap it? God has emotions too - shoot, who do we think we got them from? But do His fluctuate like ours do?

I know His LOVE does not budge one ounce. But He feels when we mourn, have joy, and suffer. He's not some monotone dude just sitting way up at a distance with one hand pressed up against His cheek in boredom and the other waving a magic wand directing a play down here. He is ALIVE! So I wonder, does His excitement heighten when we are about to receive His gifts? 

I have been the receiving many gifts since my time here in Uganda, but a couple in particular stand out to me in the past week.

1. Because students at the University near the rescue home were rioting on Friday, all 17 girls came to our place after school instead of risking tear gas and bullets. The night was filled with Elf, coloring, and a mass production of delicious mac 'n cheese by Sarah. We put out mattresses that were stored in the office on the ground in the living room. The two smallest girls, Gloria and Charlie, slept in the extra bed in my room. After making sure most of the older girls were 'asleep' I quietly crept into my room knowing the little ones had already passed out.

One thing I miss about home 

is sneaking into my little sisters' room when they were asleep. 

There is something about hearing a little one breathing while they've surrendered all to their exhaustion. 

As I stepped into my room I was met with just that. I stopped in my tracks and had to smile. I lit my candle and made as little noise as possible getting ready for bed. I forgot how precious little ones sleeping breaths are. I could tell which one was Gloria and which was Charlie. Needless to say, I didn't use my earplugs that night but fell asleep to two sweet creations.

2. My second golden gift from Him was on Sunday. I was able to see 7 beautiful faces on my computer! In the morning I skyped with Halie, Michelle, Jiwon & Laura before they went on their color run. They took me to Michelle's house, Bagel Shop, and DC once they got there! It was great to see bits of Ashburn/DC but WONDERFUL to see their bright faces, hear their voices, and all the craziness that comes with them.

In the evening I had a google hangout with the Berry Patch! Haley, Alex & Jenn were all on! We got to catch up on each others lives and share much needed laughs. I miss doing life with them! I have been missing home a lot recently, and He knew that was just the dose I needed.

"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of heavenly lights..." James 1:17

A N N E   G R A H A M 

This past Tuesday a few Zion Project staff and I had the wonderful opportunity to hear Anne Graham (Billy Graham’s daughter) speak. She was not in the city of Kampala, but right here in the town of Gulu! There were probably 200+ church leaders, organization members, and missionaries who went. I was one of maybe 15 mzungus (white people) there. 

When it came time for praise and worship, the talented leader sang a few songs in English, then a few in Swahili & Acholi. While I loved the English songs, I was captivated when we sang in another language. From doing morning devotion with the women I knew a handful of songs. During some of them I just had to close my eyes and smile. 

I thought, ‘this has to be a glimpse of heaven’. In heaven we will worship our King as ONE; not divided by tribe, class, color, or continent. My mind continues to wonder what that really will sound, look, and feel like. 

It's all unimaginable.