Journal Entry #5 from Uganda - Saturday, October 9, 2010

Today I had the opportunity to spend the morning and early afternoon with Ashley and the women in the village. We gathered with 30 or so Christian women in an enclosed, thatched hut made of mud. At one point, I looked over on the side and saw a tiny bee hive in the side of the wall, with an occasional bee coming over to say hi. I had the privilege of having Mama Joy as my translator. I gave me testimony of how I came to know Christ, including my tough childhood with an alcoholic, abusive father and how with the absence of my earthly father, I relied on my heavenly Father beginning at a very young age.

I also went on to share about losing my son, Robert, and my struggles with infertility over the past 2 1/2 years. I did cry (would it be me without tears? :-), but it was appropriate and I know that it touched the women who were there.

Ashley went on to share a message on living a Christian life, which was truly an encouragement to me and to all the women who attended.

When Ashley and I has finished, a woman stood and said that she wanted to share and encourage me. She told me of how she had a child, but that her second child had died. She went on to have 6 years of infertility. She was prayed over and she became pregnant. But she said that she had dreams that a man kept offering her a dead baby, but she kept refusing the dead baby. She prayed that God would give her a son, as she had lost a son, and she had a son. She went on to have another healthy child after that.

What struck me was how no matter where you are, no matter your background or social economic status, loss is loss. That in both America and in Uganda, it is equally devastating to experience the loss of a baby.

Another woman stood weeping, telling us that she wanted to pray for us and to encourage us.

The entire group of women stood, we held hands in a large circle and we began to pray. The women gathered around both Ashley and I and began to lay hands on us, including rubbing my belly. Now let me just reiterate that their sense of personal space is MUCH different than we are used to here in America. They also laid hands on my head and prayed.

I spent the rest of the afternoon going hut to hut with Pastor Omar, Mary and Tonja.

Mary and Pastor Omar

At one hut, we were sharing with a young woman and this sweet little boy quietly crept up to sit in his mothers lap and nurse. It was absolutely beautiful. And of course, there were the heartbreaking scenes of a little one sleeping outside next to his mom, with the distended belly of malnourishment. How can this still be happening?

Little boy peeking around a tree

I think this photo speaks for itself

My favorite part of the day was handing out little t-shirts and toys that Mason had lovingly picked out of his own things for me to bring to Uganda. I took photos of the little boys and girls posing in his t-shirts or holding a beanie baby. There was a Muslim family that we shared with and the three women wanted to accept Christ, buy they could not for fear that the husband would return from work and run them off. So we simply prayed for them and showered these precious women and children with gifts. They were so excited and so very grateful.

A little guy in one of Mason's t-shirts

So proud of her new baby doll!

New hat. New shirt. New stuffed animal. New little man.

This was by far my favorite village that we have visited so far. The people are so genuine and kind. I really would have enjoyed spending even more time here. I also was amazed that this was the first time that some of the children had ever seen a Mzungu. As I was walking back towards the village, one little girl who appeared to be around 18 months old stopped me, held my hand and just sat examining my hand and arm. She traced her little fingers over my veins, pointed to my freckles and giggled at my arm hair. It was absolutely precious.

Heidi playing "Where's the Mzungu?"

Journal Entry #4 from Uganda - Friday, October 8, 2010

Today the team was on to a new village, I went with Smooth, Kelly and our interpreter, Pastor Omar, to minister to schools.

The first school that we visited was a primary school. We first met with the headmaster in his office to sign the guestbook and learn about his school. In the meantime, the students were gathered outside under a group of trees. You could feel how excited they were to see us and were actively involved with the music and listened intently when I told the story of Jesus. I would say that around 30 children raised their hands and prayed when Smooth asked who wanted to know Jesus.

As we drove into the next village, I saw women in full burka, which made me suspect that there was a large muslim population here; my assumptions would later be confirmed.

 The next school we visited was a secondary school. Again, we began in the headmaster's office to sign the guestbook, etc. As we walked the school campus, there were signs posted on trees written in english with saying like, "HIV Kills" and "Delay Sex". Their version of public service announcements to the students.

Once again, the students gathered outside under a large tree (okay, so it was a really cool looking tree). We were informed by the headmaster to not be alarmed when a large group of students arrived late, as they were muslim and would be returning from afternoon prayers. Then the headmaster left.

Unfortunately, many of these students were very rude and behaved poorly. They laughed and heckled Smooth and were just disrespectful in general. I whispered to Kelly that I felt right at home, because it felt just like an American high school. And when the muslim students returned, it only got worse. While Smooth spoke, I noticed that one muslim boy in back become so agitated that he was getting up to leave and tried to take his buddy with him. But his friends (also muslim) refused and was even trying to coax him to stay. At the end, I saw this boy put his hand up to receive Jesus. 

When Smooth had the "alter call," one muslim student stood to his side, loudly mocking Smooth's voice. But in spite of all of that, around 15-20 students boldly stood in front of their peers and became Christians. 

Tomorrow I'm excited that I will spend the morning doing women's ministry with Ashley. Nervous to share my testimony, but excited.

Journal Entry #3 from Uganda - Thursday, October 7, 2010 - "I'm going to prison!"

Today, I went to prison. In fact, I went twice. Today I had the unusual privilege of doing prison ministry at two Ugandan prisons. They needed volunteers, so I said, "yes." I spent the day with Mark and Mary.

I've only seen a prison from the outside or on TV. In the states, we hear prison and we automatically picture the double or triple barbed-wire fences, the armed guards, the frisking before you enter. But this is not at all what I encountered in Uganda.

The first prison was fairly small and surrounded by a single wooden fence. We entered the prison by a small door that most had to duck to get through. Well, everyone except me :-) For me, it was just about the right size. We were met by the prison warden, a women in her mid-forties. She was gracious and welcoming. We signed the prison guestbook as we waited for the guards (also women and one named Katy) rounded up a group of prisoners of about 12 men. We gathered outside on a small porch of one of the cell areas. The majority of the men wore yellow shirts and whatever pants that they had come in with. Only one or two wore shoes.

We began with Mary giving her testimony and then Mark giving the gospel message. I sat watching the men while everything was going on. I saw the hollow look in their eyes. The way that they looked down in shame, not wanting to catch my eye. I began to wonder why they were there. What had they done to end up in prison?

After Mark finished his message, he asked who there wanted to accept the gift of Jesus and all but two men raised their hands. It was quite overwhelming to see that. I guess sometimes God really does need to break us before we actually see how much we need him. We prayed with these men and then gave them all a bar of soap, for which they were very grateful.

Mark, Me and Mary

While we were making our way out, we began to talk with the guards, none of which were armed. They explained that they did have guns, but that they were over in their huts, outside the gates of the prison. Hmmm... I was thinking that I was glad I didn't know that until I was leaving.

Prison was not at all what I expected.

The next prison was even more unexpected. There were no gates or fences. It felt more like a school grounds, with buildings and dorms scattered on a few acres. Then the strangest part; there were children there. My first thought was, "What in the world are they doing here?" And as I began to look around, I noticed women and children housed all over the grounds of this prison. Now I was really confused.

Baby girl and mom on the prison grounds

We were taken to a building that almost looked like a church, with a pulpit type area and rows of benches. A few minutes later, a group of about 15 men were marched in. There was no real uniform for this prison, but more just their own clothing (which for most, was hardly anything at all).

Mark shared the gospel message again and this time, we had one additional speaker. Pastor Timothy, one of our translators, also shared his own testimony. Now Paster Timothy is a big guy. I mean tall and just BIG. If you didn't know him, you'd be pretty freaked out by his size and stature. But here's a little secret: he's a big teddy bear. He was one of the most kind, soft-hearted people that I met on my trip and most importantly, Pastor Timothy loves Jesus.

What was so amazing about Pastor Timothy's story was that he was once in prison himself. So you better believe that these men were listening to what he was saying just as intently as I was listening. For me to retell his story would not give it justice, but I will tell you that's it's nothing short of a Paul-style prison break. It was truly amazing to see how God worked in his heart and the hearts of prison officials and judges. And now to see Pastor Timothy living for Jesus and ministering to prisons was awesome.

Almost all those men came to know the Lord that day. We passed out soap again and shook their hands. They were very humble and grateful.

So while we're listening to Pastor Timothy, I see a few women and FIVE children come in and sit down. Prisoners here - children there. In the words of Rob Wetzel, "WHAT???" This just totally blew me away and I was even more confused than before. I came to learn that when men are taken to this prison, they may bring their families with them to live on the prison grounds. Wow!

Mary and I had a chance to love on the kids, giving them stuffed animals, shoes and swee-ties. The moms and the children were very grateful. 

Two of the little girls who wandered in while we were speaking.

I love that they have some of Mason's stuffed animals :-)

For me, this experience can be summed up with one word: Grace. Grace is defined as getting something we don't deserve, but so desperately need. Justice may have been served when these men were put in prison, but today they received the grace and love of Jesus. They couldn't have earned it for good behavior or anything they did, it's a gift. They just needed to accept it. Grace changes everything.

I'm reminded of how desperately I need grace. My crimes may not be to the degree of being put in prison, but a sin is a sin. To God, murder is the same as gossip. Adultery the same as yelling at our kids. A sin is a sin is a sin. I am no different than the men that I ministered to in those prisons. We're all sinners and all in desperate need of the grace that only God can give. Ah, but if only we could extend that same grace to others. If grace is so graciously and lovingly afforded to me, aren't I expected to extend the same to others around me? If only it were that easy. But perhaps it is.

The favorite part of my day was arriving back to the guesthouse early and having the opportunity to talk for almost an hour with Pastor Godfrey, Director of Arise Africa International. We specifically talked about the orphanage at Bukaleba. I asked him about their hopes for the children there and whether or not they were open to having them adopted. I learned that there already two families in the states in the process of adopting children from Bukaleba and he went on to explain the process of guardianship to adoption, time involved, fees, etc. He asked why I was interested and I shared about our loss and infertility and that God had recently put adoption on our hearts. I also told him that we were staying open to whatever God has for our family, whether it be domestic or international. And then he said to me, "By the time you leave that orphanage, you will know."

Then I asked him how the people of Uganda view their children being adopted and being taken out of the country of Uganda to places like the USA and he replied, "Most believe that they are the lucky ones."

Journal Entry #2 from Uganda - Wednesday, October 6, 2010 - Part Two

After we were finished with the kids for the day, Heidi and I spent the next two hours doing hut-to-hut ministry, sharing the gospel message in the village. We were accompanied by David, our incredible translator, Irene and by a little girl named Lydia. Lydia had been glued to my side for most of the afternoon and simply wanted to hold my hand all afternoon. So precious.

My incredible translator, David, and me, looking very tired :-)

A view of Lakeside Village

To get to the huts from the church, we walked a dirt path, hopped over a ditch and walked into the village. Lakeside Village is a fishing village, directly on the shores of Lake Victoria. The views were beautiful and stood in stark contrast to the village itself. Huts made of clay and thatched roofs stood in rows. Their homes were tiny and confined. There was definitely no personal space here. The narrow pathways were littered and teaming with people, goats and chickens. We saw many more infants and babies by the huts. Many were half-clothed or wore nothing at all. Kids (including toddlers) were just wandering around by themselves. The air smelled of burnt wood and fire.

This little boy was being pulled in a make-shift toy made from a water jug.

He had beads around his waist, signifying that he had recently been to the witch doctor.

Two "tweens" in their cool photo poses. 

Boys are the same wherever you go!

While I was in the middle of sharing the gospel story with three women, we were abruptly interrupted (or more like almost run over) by a "Circumcision Parade". Men marched, sang and paraded with the young man who would later be circumcised; this ceremony takes place for three days. He was decorated and painted. When I asked Irene how old the child was, she answered, "18 years old." With which I replied, "Ouch!" And for all of you who are thinking it, no, I did not witness the circumcision itself!

The Circumcision Parade 

The "lucky" young man in the middle with clay on his head

Curious onlookers 

David pulled Heidi and I out of the way of the oncoming traffic and one of the women I'd been sharing with chased after me to hear more about Jesus. I sat down with that beautiful woman on the shores of Lake Victoria and led her to Christ. I was humbled at this awesome privilege and once again amazed to see the hand of God working all over the world, especially in Uganda.

At one of the other huts we visited, I gave two little boys a few of Mason's t-shirts and a little girl a teddy bear. These children and their moms were so grateful for these small gifts.

Precious twin toddlers (their momma was so proud!)

And one last thing that I must share is my first "short call" experience in the African bush. And for reference, a short call is going pee, so I'm sure I don't have tell you what a long call is. Nuff said. So they aren't really bathrooms, but more like an outhouse and a hole in the ground. So there's no denying that I am high-maintenance. I've never even been camping before! But here I was, about to pee my pants, uh, skirt, so I had no choice. Tasha was nice enough to accompany me on my first short call and when I got there, hmmm, let's just say I was rethinking whether or not I could hold it longer. So here was my choice: go in the bathroom that smelled like death or find another spot next to the pigs (no, I'm not kidding). I opted for the latter. I settled on a spot back behind the "bathroom" right next to a half dozen or so pigs, got my toilet paper ready and did my first short call out in the African bush. Bob would be so proud. Thanks again, Tasha!

Journal Entry #2 from Uganda - Wednesday, October 6, 2010 - Part One

*Because I wrote so much in my journal for this day, I've decided to split it into two entries*

We arrived at almost 12:30 am last night and we were all weary and exhausted. Since we came to the guesthouse last night, we were ahead today and were able to sleep in and take our time this morning (which was a HUGE blessing!)

After a hot shower (Yay!) and a little make-up (who says you can't wear make-up while on a mission's trip to Africa?), we headed downstairs for breakfast. It was there we met a woman named Kristy, who is a missionary in Uganda, with her husband and five, yes, FIVE, children! They are also serving with her sister, BIL and their four children. She is from Colorado and they are serving for two years in Uganda. I am fascinated at listening to her life here. She says something that I have heard from the lips of my own dear friend Christy, who lives back home and is in the process of moving with her own family as missionaries to be a part of a church-plant in Utah. She said, "the world's definition of success is so much different than God's." I am convicted and humbled by this statement. I wonder to myself how often I measure my own success by the world's standards instead of by God's standards? That I look around at my family and home and clothes and food and car and think, "Okay, we're doing alright."When the fact is that God does not bless me and my family just so we can accumulate more stuff or appear as though we're doing okay. No, he blesses us so we can bless others for His glory. I took Kristy's information so I can be praying for her and her family over the next two years.

Kelly, Kristy (missionary) and her infant child, Heidi and Tasha

It was great to drive during the day so could see the terrain and the people as we passed through the villages. Most of the roads were not even really roads, but more like cleared paths for vehicles (although I saw no other cars or busses on our drive, only the occasional boda-boda).

The poverty is absolutely overwhelming. Imagine the worst poverty you see here in the states, multiply that by 1000 and than replicate it so that it's everywhere. I learned that there is a 90% unemployment rate in Uganda and that the other 10% who have a job live on an average of $1 a day. The fact is that over 90% of the world's population lives on a $1 a day. How is that even possible? How do I live in a country that is so abundantly blessed while there are people in other countries who are watching their children die of starvation or unclean water? It's hard even now to wrap my mind around that. I don't say this to make anyone feel guilty, but it is necessary to make people aware. America is so blessed. I am so blessed.

We arrived in the Lakeside Village (yes, that would be Lake Victoria!) around 2 pm and were greeted by hundreds of beautiful little faces running towards the bus. They were all waving and screaming, "Mzungu! Mzungu!" i.e. "White person! White person!" It was overwhelming to see all of their smiling faces, all so excited to have us in their village.

When we got off the bus, the children surrounded us and just wanted to touch us, hold our hands, to be near us. They were so precious. I felt that first hint of missing Mason and also realized how incredibly blessed that Mason is to be born a middle-class, American boy. These kids were in filthy, tattered clothing. Many wore no shoes. They had nothing, but they were smiling and so happy. I think our own children here can learn a lesson from that. I think that we all can learn a lesson from that.

For the next two hours, Helen, Mary, Tonja, Heidi and I did the story of Moses, sang songs and played games. So in general, I just had a blast loving on these sweet children. We passed out take-aways for the kids - a baggie with a Moses coloring book and two crayons. We also passed out lollipops (aka "sweeties") and we were absolutely mobbed. Even kids in Uganda love a Tootsie Pop!

I met Irene, a teacher in the village, and her three sweet children. Irene had just left her husband because he wanted to take another wife and she refused to live that way for herself or her kids. Irene hung out with me for most of the day and it was nice to have a chance to get to know her.

Irene and friend

Journal Entry #1 from Uganda - Tuesday, October 5, 2010

We arrived in Entebbe a little before 10 pm. It was too dark to see much at the airport and even the parking lot was dimly lit; not at all like the airports in the states. We were supposed to stay at a "hotel" just five minutes from the airport, but it was decided that we would make the drive to the guest house in Jinja that night. And from what I'm told, I should be grateful for that decision, considering the accommodations are much nicer at the guest house then at the hotel. We were told that we had a two and a half hour drive ahead of us.

We filled out our Visa's and then gathered our many pieces of luggage. The baggage area is small and plastered with posters of Coca-cola and the Apple I-phone. We waited for almost another 30 minutes to go through one, tiny security screening, and then out to where Pastor Godrey and the Arise Africa bus was awaiting our arrival. As a result of Operation Entebbe over 30 years ago, it is against the law to take photos at the Entebbe airport, so I have no photos of the airport itself.

We began driving and the city was active and alive on this Tuesday night, even though it was after 10:30 pm. People were everywhere, on foot, in cars and or piled on Boda-boda (motorcycles). In fact, it was not unusual to see a few people piled onto the boda-boda, including women holding infants. So much for rear-facing until the age of two!

And then, there is the overwhelming poverty. Poverty to the likes that I have never personally witnessed before. There were rows and rows of dimly lit "shops," if you can even call them that. They were really shacks or shanties, some beauty or barber shops. Convenient stores. Clothing stores. Furniture stores. I still can't believe how many people were out that late.

I listened to my i-pod as we drove, taking and in and processing all that I saw and heard and smelled (yes, smelled! But more of that in my later entries ;-)

I was exhausted and emotional when we arrived in Jinja at 12:30 am. I began to get a sense that I am right where I'm supposed to be; that I a meant to be in Uganda. And then, I feel a sense of peace. I know now that this is not the last time that I will travel to Uganda.

A daytime look at the shanties that ran for miles

I wonder if those are Lazyboy?

A drink stand and clothing for sale