It’s beautiful and hard, and everything in between

It was while I was walking home from a friend’s house this evening, as I passed by the rhythmic drumming of the Jonathon family, I stopped to catch a glimpse of the fiery red sunset, and realized that I have been in Africa for a month and a half.

And while I have seen sunsets like this many times, as well as glistening starlit nights, the moon so bright we have to put down our curtains to sleep, I have walked across the road with the warm breezes blowing on my face, held shiny coffee colored babies.  Shook hands with some of the most hospitable people I have ever met.  Danced to lively Ugandan worship songs. 

I have also sat and listened to horrific stories, learned of peoples jaded pasts, heard of orphaned children who were living in poverty, alone and hopeless.  I have prayed with those who have lost their loved ones, something that seems to happen on a daily or weekly basis.   I have seen people carrying dirty water on their heads in huge jugs for miles.  Helped teach a 50-year-old woman who cooks for me how to read. 

In all of this I can find his Glory, because the sun was put into place by his hands, the stars and the moon specifically set in the sky, the breeze only comes because it is God breathed.  The babies were tenderly knit together in their mother’s wombs; the hands praise in all things, the worship is genuine.  The stories all have happy endings, the pasts are gone to make room for the future, the Lord has sent those here for the orphans, the dirty water that cannot satisfy is the perfect example to show the wellspring of living water that only he can bring, and Mamma Jen may not know how to read but she knows all of the gospel songs you could imagine and the Joy of the Lord is in her countenance.

I came here to teach, to hold, to care for, to help, to change and I have, but what’s more is that I have learned, and been lovingly cared for, and been changed.  It would be hard to describe to the me I was three years ago, where I am now.  I was a totally different person then.  Not this brave, or willing to be uncomfortable, not this well traveled, not this able to persevere, or trust in Him.  I’m not saying that I’m the best person or better than anyone else, I am just better than I was, and isn’t that what  we are always striving to be?

I don’t love Uganda, It’s hard and hot and uncomfortable, and challenging to this American born, very pampered, young lady.  I don’t love taking cold showers outside, or sleeping under a net in the heat, I don’t love needing to be wary of every infectious disease in Africa, I don’t love the lizards that more than occasionally scurry across our walls, I don’t love hearing bats in the roof all night.  I don’t love peeing in a hole in the ground, especially at night when the cock roaches are out.  I don’t love having to stop every two minutes on the road to formally greet every person I come into contact with.  I don’t love having the same three starches rotated at every meal (bread, potatoes, matooke)  I don’t love the general smell that you can only understand when you’ve been here.

But I do love singing praise songs with my friends under the stars.  I do love napping with beautiful baby Hannah on my lap, I do love when I walk in the kitchen and all of the ladies embrace me one by one and tell me how “smart” I look in my dress and try to teach me Luganda and laugh deep belly laughs at my accent.  I love my hilarious roommate, I love the people I work for, I love seeing Karson picking up reading a little more every time we sit down to practice.  I love taking the kids on nature walks to see the oxen or the sheep, I love the way Moses smiles when I walk in the baby house and crawls right over to me.  I love my Auntie Flo, Auntie Consequence, Auntie Blessing and Mamma Jen, I love catching a really good futbol match on the way home.  I love sitting on the porch at sunrise reading my Bible with a chill in the air and I love Ugandan MUSIC! 

So, It’s beautiful and hard, and everything in between. 

Just some of my thoughts.