I went to Kampala dreading it. I was so excited to finally get to serve with Watoto, this ministry I heard about well over a year ago and have been dreaming of serving with ever since. But I was not excited about Kampala. I live in small town Uganda and from there, Kampala is the big, busy, dirty capital full of traffic jam and accidents and riots and thieves. It's the place where you go for court dates and adoption appointments and only when you need to. Not really a place I wanted to live.


And then I moved there.

While it's still not my favorite city (not by a longshot), I was given a different view of it while there and mainly because of Watoto Church and Childcare Ministries who I got to serve with at the Bulrushes Babies Home. Through Watoto's eyes, I saw a city full of hurting people who need the gospel and need active love. People who don't just to be preached at but need real Love demonstrated...through loving a neighbor, taking in babies with no family or who need serious medical attention which families here struggle to afford, loving on street kids, working to restore dignity to women with HIV, and bottom line being Love clothed in flesh.

I love Watoto's heartbeat desire...to be people who are caring for community while celebrating Christ. Isn't that beautiful? Is that how we are living? Is that how I am living? I want ot more actively do this, to care for community each day while I celebrate Christ....that my celebration of my Savior would inform my care for others in my community, and that my care for others would reflect the way I love and celebrate Him. Maybe that even in my care for others I am actively celebrating Him...celebrating His people and His gifts with intention and joy. Living in a way that does that. So no matter where I am, whether it be Jinja or Kampala or Nashville, that I am celebrating Him there as I love the people around me. And that, folks, is the Truth. Love God, love others. Boom.

What a beautiful lesson He's taught me in a place I didn't want to go. Isn't He always working like that? Taking me to places I don't necessarily want, that I don't really think are best, and teaching me the most beautiful things. Help me remember this Lord, when you next take me to a place I may not have chosen for myself, that my eyes might be open to the beauty and ready for the wonder in the hard places to come.

I know I live in Uganda when...

Ok, so sorry to be a terrible blog updater.  The last 6 weeks have been crazy busy...went to Kenya to see my sis, then she came here, Gwen and Suzanne visited, my computer crashed, my parents and our friends the Hills came, I moved to Kampala, and I'm preparing to move back to Jinja...busy stuff.  But, sorry for slacking here! Prepare to have a number of blogs coming at ya in the next little bit. For the first...some things that let me now I'm for sure living out life here....

I know I live in Uganda when...

1. I sleep under a mosquito net {almost} every night

2. I can get heaps of fresh produce--avocadoes, mangoes, bananas, pineapple, eggplant, peppers, tomatoes, passionfruit, and more--for the equivalent of only a few US dollars

*borrowed this picture, mine got lost when my computer crashed...*

3. These are the ones I wake up to see and love on and be loved by every day....

 4. My vacation time includes these new friends...(look in the background...)

giraffes!

oh hey elephant!

5. Holidays look a bit different...

 

6. Sweet family and friends visit but it's not quite home

6. My dependency on Christ grows each day because there's less here to make me think I've got it "under control" and much more here leading me to run back into His arms moment by moment and live from that place

7. My heart cries out a bit more every day, "How do I respond?" and I ask Jesus to guide my response and my heart. And by His grace I keep dreaming, and hoping, and loving with all I've got. And one foot in front of the other, I follow His lead and I look towards His promise of all things new.

8. As my heart breaks and His hope carries me, I find this smile and this peace ever present. This smile that creeps across my face from a deep place in my heart. This peace that comes from way beyond myself, that settles my racing thoughts and brings them back to Truth. As I sit feeding a bottle or chase littles or change diapers or do whatever it is my day finds my hands busy with, I find my heart at peace and a huge smile on my face and I know that for today, for right now, this is so right and He is enough. Always.

I want to see Jesus

We sat around in a circle on the tile floor and read stories about animals, about shapes, about very hungry caterpillars.  We laughed and we looked at the pictures and we worked on sitting properly and listening well.  The stories about lions and bugs and princesses were always hits, but it never failed that every time we sat down one of the children pointed at or tried to grab one particular book.  They would say “Auntie, I want that one! Auntie Sarah, I want to see Jesus!”  They would grab that book and tell me “This one!”  and ask to see the pictures and hear the stories. 

What book is this magical favorite?  It’s this beautiful book I love, that I hope they are learning to love too.  It is the one that tells me of a Hero who loves the little children and gives himself for them, a Creator who walks daily with his created beloved ones, a man who is God and who poured himself out.  It is the precious Bible.  It is a particularly lovely version of it called The Jesus Storybook Bible.  For me, it was a gift from my sweet friend Leigh.  She is a preschool teacher and must have known how much littles (and their aunties/teachers) love this beautiful book.  It is one of the most beautiful children’s versions of the Bible I have ever seen.  The kids here love it—the pictures, the way it’s written.  And more than that, they love the stories and they ask for them over and over again.  They try to grab it out of my hands because they want to see Jesus.  They can barely sit on their cabenas (bottoms) for the desire to point to Jesus on the page, to show their friends, to see this mysterious majestic One. 

We read stories of creation and the fall, of prophets and princesses, of soldiers and fishes.  They enjoy them all, but they beg for the ones about Jesus.  They want to hear especially how he welcomes the little ones to Him and how He heals the sick and cares for the poor.  They want to see Him on the cover, to hear about Him inside the pages, to ask about Him after the story and all throughout.  And how can I deny them? 

It delights my heart and convicts me—do I long to see my Jesus, to know my Jesus within the pages of His Word as much as these little ones do?  Do I understand simply the beauty and mystery of the love of Jesus for me?  Do I deeply yearn for just a glimpse of Him, for a whisper of His voice?  As much as the children love that book, I want to love it.  We always saved it for last when we read in preschool time, for we wanted to save the best for last…but maybe we should have read that first. And more.  And over and over.

I started reading it to the children at Ekisa last night.  I think it will be our bedtime ritual now.  They gathered around me on the couch and all strained to see the pictures and hear the story.  They pointed to the ocean and the mountains, the lions and the peacocks, the people and the sun and the planets, the creations of our God’s hands.  They looked at them in awe and delight.  They asked for more stories.  I promised them another tonight. And this morning the first thing one of them told me, not even five minutes after waking up, was “Auntie, want story!” 

It is such a precious story.  The song of the Creator, singing to his beloved…the love letter to each of us.  I hope I wake up and think, “Jesus, I want a story!” and that I open these pages full of life and let them sing to me and pour over me and fill my longing heart like these children do.  I want these stories to fill my thoughts during the day and make me ask questions and teach me how to walk this journey of life and faith.  Make my heart like these little ones Lord.  Let it cry out “I want to see Jesus!” and open my eyes to see and hear more and more.

home is where the heart is....

When two places hold your heart, where’s home?

Last week I got to spend a few days with my sister in Kenya (which was great, more to come on that) and as I flew back this idea of home kept popping into my head. It’s been one that I’ve been throwing around for a bit. I feel like I have two homes in a way. And sometimes more than that. Part of my heart is here in Uganda now, with bits of it with different people here and littles who have captured it. Part of my heart is in Nashville with my family and bits of it are all over America with friends and family…a little bit in Greenville, SC, a little bit in New Orleans, and all over.

As I landed back in Uganda I was beaming from ear to ear. I wanted to dance when I got off the plane…back to the red dirt and the heat and the Luganda and the craziness. I love it here!

And yet I was crying Saturday night when one of my best friends was getting married and I was here in Uganda, not getting to be there. And I miss my family and friends dearly. It’s been hard to miss big and small things in the lives of family and friends in America….weddings, graduations, engagements, hard times, good times, Friday breakfasts, Inversion, birthdays, girls nights, and just day to day stuff. It’s hard to keep in touch with people on the other side of the world…and to all of you who I have done a terrible job on that front, I am truly sorry. I’m a work in progress.



It’s hard to feel connected to people on both sides of the world, yet be living on one and try to be fully here and not pining away for there. Yet I can’t imagine living anywhere but here for now.

I love living here. I love the way that time and life are full and treasured and not rushed or full of meaningless stress. I love the Bible study I’m a part of, and walks with my dear friend Katie, and breakfasts with my dear friends Danielle and Pippin, and riding around on a boda taking in the beauty of this land, and laughing with friends here as I try to practice my Luganda with them and sound ridiculous, and just Uganda…it’s amazing! The things that are emphasized are relationships and living life fully, for here long life isn’t as much of a “guarantee” as we sometimes think of life as in America. For today, for this season, Uganda is home. I know that even when I leave a big part of my heart will be here.


If home really is where the heart is, then I guess I have two homes. Or maybe more than that. And more than anything, when I look at anywhere I’ve called home, I realize more and more that none of these are perfect. None of these places or the people in them satisfy my deepest longings. And that’s because here on this earth, nothing and nowhere will. So then as I ponder this question of where is “home”, I realize that it isn’t really here and it isn’t really there and it doesn’t really matter that much in the light of eternity….what matters is that I am in love with my Jesus and He’s getting the glory, wherever my “home” might be for the time being.


So while I sit here in this tension of feeling at home and missing being home, I turn to Him, and I know that step by step, bit of faith by bit of faith, I know more of Him. And that’s all I want.

Hope and heartbreak

I haven’t blogged in a bit because there’s so much to say but I have been struggling to find the words. I have about five other posts I’m in the midst of trying to write, but this is what’s on my heart right now.

There’s this crazy dynamic here on an almost daily basis of hope and heartbreak. They coexist in every day here…here at Ekisa, here in Uganda, and I think in this whole big world, but I just see it more in my everyday life here than at home.


We go to the eye doctor with four of our children because we need to have their vision checked. We think they’re pretty bad off but we have hope that they all still have a bit of vision left and want to find out how we can aid that. We walk away finding out that one of the girls has an optic nerve that is completely dead. She is seven, and she will never see. Heartbreak. We find out that two of them have lost most of their vision, but not all of it. And we find out our newest little addition might be able to recover some of his vision and not lose it all if we can get him some glasses. Hope.

My friend runs this amazing malnutrition program that helps nurse children back to health…they come in so very tiny, and leave fat chunky kiddos. It’s beautiful. She and my friend D and other volunteers and their staff labor every day to give all they can to make these kids well. People know this woman can care for very sick children, so people bring her not only malnutrition cases but all kinds of sick kiddos…and she never turns them away. Because how do you say no? She cares for them and takes them to the hospital when they need it or keeps them in her home and does her all. She fights with everything in her for children to survive and to thrive, because she knows they are His. They discharge healthy kiddos and joyous mamas so many times. Hope. After hope. On Friday, D and I walked into the hospital to check on a child our friend was caring for and to see how she was…we walk in upon her with a weeping mother, and our friend kneeling at her feet, praying over her, trying to offer comfort. There was no blood in all of Jinja for this baby, and she passed away a few minutes before we got there. To be that near to death is something I have never experienced. And my heart broke.



We take two of our children to the hospital in Kampala to get heart scans. We want to make sure that their hearts are a normal size. After waiting for seven hours, we see the doctor, get the scan, wait a bit more, and we receive the beautiful news that their hearts are totally, completely normal! Hope! Right before we go in to see the doctor, a body covered in a sheet is rolled right down the hall in front of us, with wailing family preceding it. Heartbreak.


I have never before experienced these two coexisting so near to one another. I don’t really know how to handle it most days. All I know to do is to turn to my Savior. To hold onto His promises. To run to my refuge and strength and know that even when the mountains tremble and they fall into the sea, even when the pillars of the earth shake and my heart is both broken and joyous, He is my Strong Tower and my Hope. He never fails. And HE IS MAKING ALL THINGS NEW! This dichotomy I walk through over and over brings me to this beautiful place of knowing where my hope and trust is, and that it is in Him alone.

Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord. –Psalm 31:24

Slight change of plans

So there’s been a slight change of plans for my time here in Uganda and I just wanted to let you all know. Due to some crazy riots in Kampala and the likelihood of more of them to come in the next few weeks, I made the decision to delay my heading to Watoto for a bit and I am working with an organization called Ekisa in Jinja. Ekisa is a home for children with special needs and it is run by some of my good friends here. I was always planning to have a bit of extra time at the end of my trip to work with an org I found while over here or to extend time with one I loved, so I am just using that time now rather than on the end of my journey. I am helping Ekisa with a bunch of different things, though the main focus will be administrative help and organizing paperwork/closets/etc. I enjoy all of those and am really excited to be able to help in practical ways here. I also may be helping some with my friend Kelsey and the malaria project! More to come, but life rolls on with me still in Jinja and monitoring the situation in Kampala for now.




Peace and joy from here to there,

Sarah

3...2...1...action...

On Thursday I had the beautiful privilege of joining my friends Holly and Meagan on a video shoot. Not a video shoot like anything I’ve ever seen or imagined in America. We joined our sweet friend Kelsey at the Children’s Hospital in Jinja. We were there to get footage for a short film Holly and Meagan are making for the Malaria Treatment Fund through Amazima Ministries. Kelsey has had a deeply personal experience with malaria, which you can read about here. This inspired her to partner with our friend Katie and create a way to help families who cannot afford malaria treatment for their children.

We were there to help tell a story. I got to play camera assistant and simply just take it in. What did I see?

A hospital where there are two or more children in most beds, IVs dripping, all sorts of sounds…children screaming, feet shuffling, mothers shushing, all sorts of smells, and many, many people in the waiting room, in the halls, in the wards. A hospital built to hold less than 100, yet which sees 5,000 plus children a month. Seeing mothers waiting, holding their children, for hours and not getting anywhere. Seeing brothers and sisters holding hands, carrying purses, and trying to be a miniature grown up in the face of a scary place. So many, standing in line, and waiting for treatment. Hoping there will be enough medicine at the hospital that day for their son to get treated. Praying the nurses and doctors can move fast enough that their daughter gets seen. Hoping that their child won’t get more ill from the hundreds of others there, waiting, hoping, and praying. Hoping the treatment won’t be more than they can afford.

It was overwhelming to say the least. To look into the eyes of a very sick little girl and her father who is sitting by her side, loving her, hoping and praying she gets better. To hear child after child crying. To look into hundreds of pairs of eyes and wonder, why are you here? Who is sick? Will they get well? Can you afford their treatment?

In America, it is a tragic thing when a child dies. It is, thankfully, a rarity. Here, it is a reality. In America, healthcare is often expensive. Here, it is comparatively cheap (by our standards). But for many here, it is too much. They cannot afford 20,000 Ugandan Shillings for malaria treatment…the equivalent of $8.40. And most of the children don’t even need that much…maybe the equivalent of one or two dollars. There are more children in Uganda dying of malaria, a treatable and preventable disease, than HIV/AIDS. What?! That’s crazy. I didn’t know that until I came here and I learned from Kelsey and other friends more about it. I didn’t get it until I saw it at the hospital on Thursday. The reality is that a child dies from malaria every 45 seconds in sub Saharan Africa. That means about 13 have died in the time you have read this post. Maybe 20 if you’re a slow reader. That’s someone’s child. Someone’s brother or sister. Someone’s grandson or granddaughter.

I’m not sharing all of this to depress you or to guilt you. I just want to share with you some of the reality I am seeing. I looked into those children’s eyes today. I met one of the pediatricians who cares for them. I talked to a big sister who was waiting for her brother to get malaria treatment. And I am more excited than ever about the Malaria Treatment Fund. I believe in it and I am behind it…with my money, with my time, with my heart. If I can help keep one of those children from dying, one of those mothers from having to say goodbye with the difference of a few dollars, I am in. If you in any way want to help financially, you can go here. To read more of Kelsey’s story, go here. Even if you can just give a dollar, that might mean the difference between affording treatment or not.   Even if you can't, pray for solutions and wisdom to this treatable disease, and maybe share this with others so they can know too.

We wrapped up filming this weekend, and I promise to share the video as soon as I can. I cannot tell you the privilege it has been to just take part by watching this whole process. This is a story worth telling and worth supporting, which my dear friend Holly and Meagan and Kelsey are all helping to do. I love it. Along with the heaviness, there’s a joy…to get to be here and witness this, to get to see firsthand my brothers and sisters living and working here, to get to know a tiny bit of the reality which my Ugandan friends live with and to get to understand them a bit more, to have my heart burdened but also empowered, and to see the ways He is bringing His kingdom here on earth through malaria treatment and short films. Beautiful.