memories of a land beyond

I never imagined that when I came home this last December that time would stretch on until now without my feet hitting the red dusty soil of Uganda.

 Sometimes as I'm working here stateside something as simple as a sound or brief glance at pair of shoes or the way someone pronounces a word will take me back to a memory of life there and cause a deep aching down in the pits of my stomach. Such recollections are the secret places my mind wanders to when there are no other thoughts to entertain. They are the memories stowed away that only one who has traveled to such a land will ever be able to relate and recite alongside.

It makes for an often lonely road of great missings. No one to laugh at the peculiarities, to remember the sounds of the chickens flying down from their coops in the morning, how everyone greets one another from shops and homes and road side wanderings. How there is no stranger among one another, how the language sounds like a song being sung in a key I've never heard but am beautifully drawn to. Oh, the smiling faces, warm greetings, glorious friendships and bright burning sun! I miss the mornings in my hammock before the rays became too hot to enjoy the company of a book or the way our house flooded with people from sun up to sun down and how I rode my trusty motorcycle to what sometimes felt like the ends of the earth. I miss the toil and hardship, the reward and long sigh that comes at the end of a well earned day.

How I long to be asked just one more question about what mystery lies beyond these oceans. One more chance to recite a story or to simply lay out the exotic monotony of our days there together. Sometimes I feel this great pull within myself to always remember and not forget. But how does one continue to relive memories that no one else around can understand and that no one else has seen or heard? It's the tension I long to find rest in.

There is one thought that offers me abounding hope and joy in the midst of the longing. Soon enough a piece of my world will be crossing oceans to meet me here in this strange, foreign land. A daily reminder of the sound, life, beauty and joy of our existence in the pearl of Africa. A reminder that nothing real can be threatened or forgotten. And though our feet are far from reaching those dusty red shores, our hearts together can leap to lands beyond.

Oh, how I've waited for you, my love. To remember together, at last.

Gracefully suspended

Suspended. Hanging. Stuck.

Those would be my choice words to explain the feeling of the last six months and even more so, the last three weeks.

Being stuck in this tension between believing God for miracles in the process of our visa, our marriage, our future while trusting Him with all outcomes. All. Every detail, every piece, every outcome.

There is absolutely no doubt that God has done some pretty ridiculous miracles in the last few weeks (approving our petition in less than three months instead of the five months we were given, providing miraculous appointment openings for Emma's medical exam, even when I forgot to prepare the payment for it! Also, the fact that Emma's been sustained since his arrival in Kenya and not to mention the dreams God would give the both of us while we slept, confirming our next steps).

But I'll be honest.... this last week has been one of the most trying times for the both of us because who REALLY knows what it looks like to be suspended between believing God for more in this process, while also trusting that He is good, faithful and intentional in each and every outcome? And goodness, will we trust Him when it looks different than what we expect?

I felt a lot of frustration in the fact that things have been so miraculous and speedy and then now at the very last minute when things are supposed to move the quickest, we are getting a lot of opposition and delay. I mean, come on, God! We've been faithful, obedient and believed for impossibilities, what is going on?

The beautiful thing about God is that He doesn't withdraw or withhold himself in the midst of our dissatisfaction and disgruntlement, He embraces us in our messy state. He asked me a simple question,

"What if my faithfulness towards you has nothing to do with what you can do for me? What if I told you to do nothing and I still did miracles for you?"

THAT is the beauty of faith. Faithful resting in who He is. Not what we can do, not in our own faithfulness but simply in how good and faithful He is in us!

I felt His gentleness, His faithfulness and goodness undoing all disappointment.

When the outcome looks different, do we still trust? Do we still fight the urge to fall under fear that we've done something wrong or heard incorrectly about the process? Or do we hide beneath the feelings or frustration and disappointment?

I think it almost seemed easier to believe in faith for the miraculous than to believe in His sustenance and purpose in the waiting. I'm learning that the process is more important than the destination or outcome I've been straining for. He is interested in who we are becoming through trying times, when we feel stretched, stuck and disappointed. It matters to Him that we experience the truth of His faithfulness.

The Lord gave me a picture yesterday of an aerial silks dancer and told me that I'm not just hanging and waiting for the next thing to happen but He's teaching me what it looks like to bring beauty into this season of waiting. 

Gracefully suspended, He says.

The surprises of Jesus

Two hard years in Uganda. I was just shifted from Western Uganda, a place that I loved and could have spent years serving. I felt sad that in light of all the ministerial politics, I was the one who received what felt like punishment for the wrongdoings of another. Being uprooted from the place I felt undeniably called to would have been an impossible task without the overwhelming presence of peace.

"Let peace be your compass," I would whisper to my soul. Plus, I had heard that same voice before. The voice calling me to deeper trust, the voice that puts all my fears at ease. I knew I could say 'yes' to that voice and would not be disappointed.

I was moving to Northern Uganda. Leaving the ministry I had known to start anew in a land ravaged by twenty years of war.

I moved right before the end of my second term in October of 2014. Accompanied by two close national pastors from the West and we were as ready as we could be for the adventure ahead. Oh, the surprises of Jesus. Little did I know that I would find something altogether different during my time in the North. And how sweet it is to say 'yes' in the hard places.

We were staying together in a mission's house for about 3 months before I had went back to the States to recoup and prepare for another term. During the three months, we had already started our church plant and I had found a group of widows and single mothers to work with teaching skills to empower their future. It was exciting and challenging, being a stranger in a new land, knowing not the language or customs of the North. It was a new dimension living as the only white with my Ugandan brothers. Eating plain rice with potatoes and beans at every meal stripped away the comfort and preference I had enjoyed in Hoima. But at every point of pain and new growth I felt the LORD speaking that if I could live this next year with the different nations of the world, I would learn a greater expression of His Kingdom. Little did I know that this was preparation for the rest of my life.

I met Emma (Emmanuel) during those first three months. (My dad had asked me if Emma knew that his name was a woman's name in America and the cultural differences are really far and wide so I just keep laughing. So many men are called Emma there that I've forgotten that it may sound strange at first.) I didn't know at the time that the Northern tribe was so beautifully different from the various tribes I had worked with from the past and that with time, the people there (and Emma in particular), would break down the assumptions and judgments I had placed on the Ugandan people at large.

Emma is a carpenter and a close friend to the land lady's son who was staying with us. So he became a familiar face at the house and our church began giving him contracts to make our benches and pulpit. He was kind and gentle, hardworking but shy. I gave no extra thought or attention to anyone actually, so I enjoyed our little friendship and working together with him for the church. I remember one instance before I had left for the States, I was checking on some of our orders at his workshop and as I was leaving, he smiled and handed me 2,000 shillings (the equivalence of almost a dollar). He said, "go and get yourself a soda." I was stunned and blessed. So many seek 'the white' for money but now I was being given money to treat myself to a cold soda? Dismayed and pleasantly confused.

Nonetheless, I left to the States with no thought in mind or intention to ever consider a local for a relationship. And honestly, it just wasn't on my radar.

When I returned to Kitgum, I was full of new vision and life. Time at home was refreshing and sweet and I was excited as ever for this new journey I was on. I felt deeply in my spirit that this year, was the year to express the fullness of what I believe and know the Gospel to be. We wanted to feed the spirit, strengthen the body AND family structure while breaking spiritual bondages. Believing that there is no poverty in God's Kingdom means that we need to teach and empower people to break free from those crippling cycles. I believe that Jesus does just that and that He's given us all creativity and resources to unlock those mysteries. That meant for me that I was going to lead new projects this year. I wanted to focus on employing leaders and teaching what business looks like in God's Kingdom. How to start? Who knew... I sure didn't!

Coming back to Kitgum, I got a call from Emma. Seeing as his workshop was only a few minutes away I had no problem riding there to see what he was up to. He met me with a smile and we began discussing what my time in America was like. But this time, as I looked at him, interacted with him and talked with him I found something profoundly strange entering my mind. A thought that had never crossed any piece of my thoughts for any Ugandan I had ever met...
                                                              "This guy is extremely handsome."

Fancy enough, one of the first things Emma asks me was why I wasn't doing more projects. That brought me to express the urgency I felt in my heart this year to do different projects like farming, rearing chicken, buying grass-cutters, serving women and so-on.

He simply replied with the trueness of who he is,

 "I want to help you in any way I can."

So that's how the story goes. We started working to get land to plant some different crops, he would invite me for lunch every day, we started ministering together and I felt the walls coming down. That's how I knew it was a work of the LORD. My heart was being changed. Something I adamantly opposed was now happening and I realized all the wrongs being made right within it. Emma embodies a servant-hearted man. He loves Jesus so much and loves people best. The ways that I feel great in my loving of others, he shows me a new way with a deeper love still. We've navigated the awkward conversations, the blunders that come amidst cross-cultural relationships, the highs and lows of living in such a desperately poor and challenging land and we've come out stronger, and more sure of the sacrifice of love.

I remember the first time we talked about what we were venturing in to. He had come out and told me that he loved me, in which my tender reply was, "how can you love something you don't know?" The words he left me with were so beautifully simple. He looked perplexed and spoke them as though it was common knowledge in the experiences of our heart, "Don't you know that this love is a gift from God?"

And the weeks and months to follow proved just that. Love as such truly is a gift. Emma was that gift to me and as time pressed forward, I was overwhelmed by this extraordinary gift that was unfolding in my heart. This last year I have seen greater favor, blessing and more surprises than I could have ever envisioned. I've spent this last year building a future with a man of integrity and honor and I would have never dreamt that God would leave me with such a precious and wondrous gift to choose for the rest of my life.

Unexpected Freedom

I found Him in the lowly face.

As I walked in a rush of heat almost knocked me to the floor. Sitting there, wide eyed, shirtless and bustling with anticipation for our ministry hour were over 200 inmates crammed into their dark meeting hall. An eruption of joy blindsided me as hope radiated from the faces of these captives.

I understood in that moment that I was there to taste the true freedom of these barred walls.

We began dancing and in unison their voices rose. When we praised, shirts were lifted and thrown in the air as they leapt off the floor. As they sang, "WE ARE VICTORIOUS! WE ARE VICTORIOUS!" with bellies full of joy, shouting erupted among the masses. Never could I imagine in such a place, being given wild permission to hand my heart over in total surrender to the one I love.

After the dancing, the sweating and the fullness of His presence, we entered into a time of testimonies.

One man exclaimed that him and his inmates were truly the worst in all of society, that we could hardly imagine the places they've walked but with laughter he praised,

"God has found us in such a place and it's here that we now have hope. We would avoid church at any cost when we were out there and who could imagine that we would all look forward to this day now."

Others shared tales of undeserved life in moments met by the face of death. They gave thanks for times of beauty in their hardened world. Of the hundreds of men, I could count not a single shoe among them but surely nothing bypassed their hearts of gratitude.

Looking around the room, I saw men living out their final years locked away, others far younger than the students that I've grown to love, but all holding one thing in common:
outcasts found by a faithful and just friend in the coarsest of places.

We closed our time with outstretched hands, touching mercy, embracing grace and praying courage over hungry souls.

In the vastness of this world before me, I found freedom in this imprisoned place.

When silence speaks

When silence speaks, will we be present to hear what is being spoken?

My headphones are in but it's almost a foreign motion these days, I use it just as a front now. No music is playing and I hardly notice. I've forgotten how common the constant lull of noise is in life.
Perpetual silence has become my every day reality.

I've learned a hard lesson in these last two months without power. No means to charge my laptop, limited internet access, darkness before 7pm, dead iPod and dead phone with no hope of distraction or entertainment. Budgeting my battery life means parting with playing music as I work or clean. I've endured many quiet nights by candle light, sorting through a laundry list of thoughts which seem to present itself best on a silent backdrop. I've faced what feels like utter nothingness and complete boredom as I fight to find something to pass the time.
Most of all, I've learned what it takes to embrace silence.

Within the first month of moving here to the north, a place in which I have no history, my two fellow housemates traveled back to Hoima from where we came. I was left alone in a house with over 9 rooms and a compound that could swallow a small duplex in America. No power, no person, no entertainment, no other option. Silence felt like a madness the first few days. How I was longing for deeper human connection than the strangers I was just beginning to know. How I dreamt of calling my loved ones back home, talking over the small nuances of the day, over the new things I was learning or maybe the challenges I was facing. I spent much time imagining what my friends were doing, wishing I had a way to distract myself and feeling the frustration of having something that I felt entitled to withheld. I wasted a lot of time running from silence.

When silence speaks she tells us of the everyday joys that are awaiting. Of the simplicity longing to be held and the power of a quiet moment within our hearts.

I'm learning to see silence as an opportunity to listen. To hear what my heart says. To sieve through the clutter of self-entitlement, disappointment and discouragement and to cling tightly to words of hope and faith. I'm learning to listen to the Spirit of God, to take more time in prayer and to truly enjoy every moment in His presence. Silence has taught me great appreciation for prolonged simplicity. We can praise simplicity when it's convenient but once you find yourself stumbling around after your candle has gone out, or needing to reply pressing emails, it seems to be another story. I've learned deep gratitude for the moments I do have to use my computer, to post a picture or reply to a friend.

I'm learning how to still my mind from all the worries of the day. I've grown to love belaboring in the afternoons, barefooted in the dirt, preparing the land for the quiet dreams that God is speaking to me. I can sit and watch my chicken scour the land and find perfect pleasure in doing so.

I'm learning to be present and unafraid of what silence is speaking.

Love remembers no wrong...

Furious love.
It's the only way I can begin to describe the last 10 months. At every end, in every fear, in loss, celebration, joy and difficulty, I feel this endless pursuit after my heart.

Not many of you know but this last week marked the third theft that I've experienced in the last seven months.

It began when I moved into my new house in a part of town that is known to be a slum area. Though the place I stayed was close to the main road and quite safe, I still became a target of theft. They watched my moves and staying alone, I was an easy victim. I used to leave my windows cracked open at night (though there are burglar bars and no way for full entrance) I woke up to a face in my window, curtains pulled back and an arm reaching down into my bedroom. It was the beginning of a home marked with fear. He was unsuccessful this time around but little did I know he would come back for a second round. I changed my habits, closing my windows when I slept but opening them for a short while when I first came home. Church members would walk me in to my gate and watch me lock up. It only took one week until he came back with success. After losing my wifi router and feeling vulnerable and full of fear, I didn't sleep much for almost a month. Even after getting a dog to guard the place, I worked full time as a second night watchman. I could jump to my feet at the sound of a grasshopper and I was beyond weary from the lack of peace. I prayed, I sang, I got screens on my windows, I trained a tough dog but still struggled with this gripping fear. It was hard to see the spiritual battle at hand when all fronts were being attacked. Conflict at work, no peace at home and the lingering question if there would be any end in sight to all this struggle. Thankfully, with the arrival of my first American volunteer in May, finally, I slept. No longer did I worry about what awaited in the night and peace was restored.

With the question of outside thieves far from my mind, a new battle arose.

The ones I had loved most, poured my heart into, my time, finances and energy began stealing from me. They were the ones I longed most to see and experience the reality of Christ's furious love. I was aware of what was going on and would sit them down, confront them, counsel them and give them opportunity to confess and be restored but they weren't willing to open their hearts to the truth. I had options, I could have told them to leave, I could have locked every precious thing but still all I could hear is, "Love always trusts, Lindsey. Show them that furious love. They aren't thieves, they just don't know who they are. Don't define them by their mistakes, call them to their truest identity." Clothes went missing, shoes, money but still I kept telling them, "You are not thieves, you are powerful, responsible, and deeply loved. Start living out of that identity and take responsibility for the things going on." I could ask them what they were going to do about the things that went missing. I saw change in one of them in particular. They had brought back one of the things they stole but the other was still full of hardness and pain. Eventually things escalated and the one continued to steal and left my place altogether on their own terms. When that one left, they had taken my hard drive with all my files since I first got my laptop in 2008, they had replaced my money with fake money and went off with the rest of my U.S. cash (only about $40 that I was saving for my airport travels). By the time I realized it, they were staying in another city and I was left absolutely crushed. I had done everything I could think of to show them the goodness of God. I would pray with them, read the Bible to them, laugh, play, counsel and pour what I had into their lives but I was left only with the feeling of utter betrayal.

I pulled myself away from all the people I thought were involved. I thought about reporting it to the police, trying to put them in jail for a night, making them repay everything they stole but every thought of vengeance was met with His words, "Show them my furious love. Don't give up on them." God continued to speak His truth into my life. They would usually bring me to tears, revealing every broken wound I was carrying deep in my heart. But He is so faithful, friends. He bound up every ache and kissed every pain back to life. I eventually started visiting the one who stole from me at their home. God kept speaking to me from 1 Corinthians 13. "Love remembers no wrong..." That person was well aware that I knew what was done and they were steeped in shame but with every visit they experienced the mercy and forgiveness of Christ. I could come with sweets for their kids and some small things to give to them. Eventually after many visits, all those relationships found restoration all before I moved North. All those who took from me came for a farewell party, bought me gifts and helped me pack my things for my move. One of them even came and asked forgiveness for all the ways they wronged me. It was the Kingdom of God touching the darkest of places. It was His furious love, restoring life! I never recovered my possessions or the money I had lost but broken relationships being restored was enough for me. I was being changed by the unstoppable love of God.

Leaving Hoima was difficult, despite the 9 months of so many challenges and disappointments, all I could remember was the faces that I've grown to love and the relationships God had given me. But as I've continuously learned, there are far better things ahead than anything you can leave behind. Excitement rang through my bones thinking of a new start in Kitgum. I would have freedom from the leadership that was oppressing me, opportunity to dream and envision all the Lord had in store and a clean slate to begin from! After only three days in our new home, I went looking for my suitcase that was holding all the clothes I usually wear in a week but all in vain. To my shock, it too had been stolen. It took three days after the incident to realize that the chances of it being returned were very slim. I allowed myself to cry for the first time. It wasn't for the clothes that I cried but for the continual squeeze that I felt my heart was undergoing to continue to trust and love those around me and those I had yet to encounter. It was painful. I had to deal with the bitter loss of more of my things but God's faithfulness endures! People came together, asking how they could help, comforting, supplying towards my needs and looking after my life. I was in complete awe!

Now,  I could hardly imagine that there was still something better that had yet to come... The ones who had previously stolen from me heard about what happened here in Kitgum and went to the markets and shopped for tops, skirts and even a pair of shoes that they sent to me here! Can you imagine the redeeming love of God! In Christ, the best has always yet to come!

The furious love of God cannot be stopped until it captures every heart through His mercy and grace.

Be satisfied

I sat in the plane, totally in awe that I could fly around the world in less than a day. That a simple plane ride connected me from my place of birth to the place of my deep longings. It made the world seem small.
Only a plane ride and I would be home.

It was the first time flying that I never once felt anxious. Excitement grew in my spirit and peace filled my bones.
I could hardly believe that this was the fourth time stepping back into this beautiful country.
I prayed quiet thanks and declared goodness over the months to come. So much anticipation, so much joy.

I quickly gathered my bags and stepped into the hot air. It was late when I got in but it felt like a perfectly warm summer night. I forgot what it was like to not need a coat.
The air, the night life, the bustling city, all of it was so sweet.
And I breathed it in with deep satisfaction.

The drive the next day was a rush of all the little things that I so love...
Kids playing with tires, shops along the road, miles of endless green, banana plantations, bicycle and motorcycle taxis, mothers washing buckets of clothes, men digging deep in the red soaked soil, community gatherings, neighbors visiting one another, movement, stillness, simplicity.

It's hard to fully describe what it's like to be here but it just feels right. There is such profound contentment when you step into what God has created you for. It's a smile that continuously stretches itself across my face. It's a continual enjoyment of the little things. Birds singing melodies, my sun licked face, bright faces and a warm welcome.

It's making a home inside the heart of God.

“You can kiss your family and friends good-bye and put miles between you, but at the same time you carry them with you in your heart, your mind, your stomach, because you do not just live in a world but a world lives in you.”
-Frederick Buechner

The ordinarily beautiful

I've been back in the states for almost a month and a half now... It's been a whirlwind of trying to rest, while enjoying and squeezing each moment with those I'm with. I love seeing my nephew light up and laugh endlessly at the silly faces I make. I've loved sitting quietly, playing cards with my grandma. I love the choices in the grocery store and the ridiculous amounts of baked goods that have come out of our oven.

It's been a much needed trip home to see my family but something I love the most is getting to invite people to see a glimpse of Uganda. I always laugh because when I'm there, there is nothing extraordinary about my simple life. But something grand happens when I share it with others, the ordinary begins to abound in beauty and wonder.

I'm always wondering what you imagine when I describe the work I do...
When I tell you that I work with HIV+ women, what do you see?

Can you see the radiating beauty of the simple smile that stretches across Plaxceda's dark and weathered face as she faithfully presumes her timely arrival? Can you hear them all shouting their local greeting with great joy in their bones when they find me every Sunday, waiting patiently for their coming? Can you hear the tenderness and forgiving laughter when as I apologize breathlessly for arriving late, yet again? ...I always forget how long that walk takes me... Do you hear the songs on their lips as they work and the chatter of a long week that needs catching up? Can you feel the weight of carrying families upon their broken and tired backs and the burden of providing for a fatherless society? Yet, I see such ease as they move, such fullness of joy and strong believing hearts.

I no longer have to close my eyes and wonder what to picture or where to put faces.

I see it all.
It settles in those deep places in my heart, which feels a little like that deep longing you get in your stomach when you're remembering both pain and beauty.
I've stopped straining to imagine what this kind of life would look like and I've started to simply step into it.

And I don't quite feel the touch of wonder and glory when I'm just dusting off tables, reminding them to wash their hands so I'll stop having to set aside countless 'brown' beads or in preparing their accounts or spending long hours in my little office. The dust and sweat doesn't seem to transform into gold and honey after a long day. It all feels rather ordinary and tiresome at times. But...

Things don’t have to be extraordinary to be beautiful.
Even the ordinary can be beautiful. 
-Wicker Park 

I'm living that ordinary and beautiful life.

Dear beloved

Dear beloved,
You were seven years old when we first met
I remember the way you would yell out my name when I'd arrive at your place
You and the little one used to shower me with hugs
You always found a place in my lap and climbed straight into my heart
I remember how you used to shine like a diamond
You always made me laugh with your facial expressions and sassy replies
You were your mother's little helper
I remember the day we baked a cake at your place
You sat on your brother's back in a family heap
You used to love when I took your picture
I remember how we danced in church
You were always the first to find me even after a late arrival
You used to hold my hands and laugh with me
I remember the day before you were hit
You sat with me at the office for lunch
You shouted "bye" when I told you, you were leaving without greeting me
I remember seeing your broken body in that hospital
You consumed my hours and days in desperate prayer
You were loved by so many who hoped we'd get to hear your laugh again
I remember the pain of unexpected goodbyes
You were too young to be buried in the earth
You were seven years old when we last met

Dear beloved, 
We still miss you here
I see the way your mother looks at your pictures
I find the courage to ask her which ones she loves the most
We comment on your sweet face and glowing smile
I still cry when I talk about you and the time I spent with you in the hospital
You still touch our hearts and shape our lives.

Dear beloved,
We love you
It's hard to let you go

The end is just the beginning of something new

This year is quickly coming to an end for me here in Hoima. It's hard to bring it all into words as these last two months have been a whirlwind and mighty challenge in light of the year I've spent here. I have about two weeks remaining in this land that I call home and enough loose ends to tie up to keep these hands full and busy.

Despite the busyness and sadness I feel to leave Hoima, I am overjoyed with the firm call God has put on me to serve a second term in 2014! So this visit home will serve as a time to refresh, see my family (my HUGE nephew who is no longer a baby like I remember him), spend the holidays with those I love and raise funds for my next year term. I am looking forward to seeing all my friends and family while enjoying the luxuries of America that I've missed (like cereal, real milk, pie, ovens and good coffee)!

Knowing that I will return to Hoima will make this transition of leaving a little easier, although I know I will still miss the friends and family I have built here in love and ministry.

I would greatly enjoy if you could pray alongside me over a few things as I get ready to visit the states:

•  I'm trying to wrap up my work permit and get it all taken care of for the next year. This process over the last year has been quite the real struggle so I could use favor and ease to make sure I don't find any problems in leaving the country.
• There's a missionary/pastoral retreat from November 3rd-8th in Jinja, Uganda that I know would be a great transition and healing time before heading home. The total cost will be about $285 for me to attend this week. I'm believing God for total financial provision to make this possible! If you'd like to donate for this retreat please email me at wessalindsey@gmail.com or use the link on this page for my PayPal account.
• I need to find a good house to rent for the next year. Pray for the right connections, good location, safety, and an affordable price!
• Pray that I would be able to accomplish all I need to before I go for this trip home! The list always seems to be growing on what I need to finish up and set up for my two month absence.
• Pray for our FAITH Project, which I'll temporarily be handing over to a faithful church member, pray for our village clinic that I've been overseeing, I'm also temporarily handing that over to one of our pastors who works as a doctor, for our Wednesday Bible Studies that I've been teaching, Thursday home Bible studies that I've led, sports ministries at the Secondary Schools and Campus ministries that I've taken part in!
• Lastly, pray over this great community that I've found here. The love I've received from them has moved my heart in tremendous ways and the thanks that I give to God for them is a continuous testimony to His goodness!

On the Nile at the retreat center in Jinja

Look for another post in the next week with some highlights and beauty from this last year!
Thank-you all for your continued support, love and prayers from across the world. You guys are such a significant piece of my work and life here.

The blood of a broken world

I wash off the blood of a mother's broken and bleeding heart. As it falls into the basin I see you there, unable to move because the grief of burying the one you carried in your womb since you were fifteen. It hits you with a blow that tells you that you'll be crippled for life. The dirt from carrying your weeping body to the grave of your girl splashes down as I find a moment to clear my mind. It's hard to believe it's been almost a week since that car smashed into your little body on your way to find us at the office. It's been a blur of concrete floors, sleepless nights and a harrowing hospital where you breathed your last. We didn't sleep the first night. We had to take shifts to hold your broken body from pulling the little support that held you. When you survived the journey to the government hospital in the capital, hope found me strong. After hours of talking with the nurses and doctors, seeing if we were doing all that we could, questions upon questions, seeking out the best options... after all the hours of prayers I poured over your body, tears I wept into your dark skin, moments of despair met with the Word of God... hours reporting to the family, contacting surgeons, monitoring, reporting, monitoring, weeping, finding your sweet presence in the nothingness and then the end. Praying over a lifeless and bloated body, resuscitation, breathing life into your mouth, praying desperate prayers of faith but it ending in nothing but pain and loss. Ending in grief that knocks the wind out of you. Ending in sleepless nights and pain that finds you in the darkest hour. Ending in the strong hold of a broken mother with tears I can't imagine. Ending with questions without answers. I held the bleeding heart of the mother as my world spun. Days of holding tight the broken pieces, praying comfort, speaking peace, singing truth and I look at you without an answer. My world doesn't make sense and it feels like I'm losing myself in it. Burying you today in emptiness shook my body in exhaustion as I wept with a multitude asking me to stay strong. I've filled an ocean with tears with no shore in sight. And my heart weighs heavy as You ask me the hard questions. The night before she died You met me in my tear-filled bed covered in fear. I was losing sight because I couldn't see You any longer in the suffering. What you spoke tore through the heavy walls of my heart...

"If she dies, am I still good?"

And I wept.

Just like my tears fall now.

One of the hardest answers to uncover in the blood of a broken world.

Dance in Freedom

This place has taught me how to let go.

I think back to my Sunday mornings at Central secondary school. My heart bursts with love for those students. They teach me so much as I live life beside them. They show me how to be unashamed in my pursuit and expression towards God.

Each morning when I arrive the dancing has already begun. They love to sing, they love to dance. They have the stamina to dance their way though an ironman triathlon with ease. I consider the cardio regimen I'll have to pencil into my weekly schedule just to keep up with them but I breathlessly follow their lead.

Dust billows as they shuffle and jump. It's just their voices and the drum. It's just them with the joy of the Father.

They sing, "Higher, higher, higher, Jesus higher!" and they wave their arms in the air, reaching to the heavens, jumping with unconstrained joy.

I laugh because I feel foolish at times but when I see them I'm overcome by their carefree love for the King.

I dance, I sing, I jump, I let go.

photo by M Peg Achterman

The blessing of great conflict

I know, I've been silent.
I came to a place where I began to intentionally shut off every response outlet... my communication suffered. I delayed my emails. Everything was work. I wanted it... I wanted to connect and relate and express but it was just... too. much. work.

That's when I realized it. I was burnt out.

Dry as the driest season here! It explained why things had been so hard. Why I had no drive. Why I was so apathetic and tired.

Of course the timing was impeccable.
Two new American volunteers had arrived. I had just said goodbye to another close friend who had served for two months alongside me. A week after the two gals arrived I was receiving a long awaited pair... my younger sister and close friend who were coming. Finally, the sweet presence of family. And I felt as though I had nothing to offer. It was right in the midst of total exhaustion and discouragement. I, of course, mustered up all I had to arise to the occasion which was where I met great struggle. Try and give away what you haven't received and you'll certainly find yourself in quite the bind.

Of course having four extra sets of eyes on your only makes you more aware of how unhealthy you are. I apologized for more things in these two months then I've probably uttered in the last three years of my life. I was totally worn at a crucial place of being responsible for the facilitation of four new volunteers. Talk about pressure!

I went into self-preservation mode and I hated the selfish state I was in. Almost a month later I found myself at the most wearied of places. I was hearing so many critiques (and I knew exactly why) but they reached me at a very low state.

I knew what I needed.

I left that Saturday to get away, to hear affirmation from the One who could lift me from this place. I was in tears on my walk to the office, which isn't easy when all eyes are always on you as you move about. I was greeted twelve different times on the way which is great when you're really hoping to go unnoticed.

On top of my personal emptiness I had received a text from a close employee of mine, Moses, saying that our chairperson of the FAITH Project was really badly off. I had called him during my walk and he said that Sarah told him that she wasn't doing well when he called a few hours earlier. I knew she was sick. She had missed our last weekly meeting and had been writing me while I was traveling about with our volunteers, informing me of her health. I knew on the way to the office that I wasn't in a strong enough emotional state to go and pray for her at her place right down the street. I did feel as though I was given a sweet spirit of prayer as I thought of her a lot on the way and spent my walk praying over her body and health. By the time I reached the office, the gate was locked without anyone in sight. So I sat in the grass, waiting for someone to come with the key.

I kept asking myself how I got to this point.  
When did I stop honoring the daily filling that kept me fresh and encouraged? 

I was waiting for close to an hour when I got the call.
When I answered Pastor Danny kept saying, "Abookie Sarah is dead." But it felt like a question and all I could say was that it wasn't possible. I had just talked to Moses, he had just spoken to her. It wasn't possible. I just passed her house. She just texted me the day before. It wasn't possible. I fumbled through my contacts to confirm the news.
I stood shocked with heavy tears flowing as I asked God, Why now? Why today? ...please... no...

I walked straight to her house with our church member. They had already moved her body to the village. We soon loaded the car with her daughter and headed off to the place where her body was. When I entered the room it was full of people sitting and weeping. I saw her mom and sat at the feet of Abookie and prayed. In the room all you could hear were the sounds of heavy sighing and disbelief that something like this would come so unexpectedly.

Our hearts wept together.
If there was ever a moment where I had the faith to believe someone would come to life, it would have been while I was holding her sweet feet and praying.

Somehow in that moment I felt a strong presence that brought overwhelming peace into that little room. I thought to myself, "Why on earth would she even want to come back? She's experiencing the greatest joy and wholeness she'll ever know!"

I had journeyed with Sarah throughout this past year as we worked together to reach the oppressed, the marginalized, the struggling. We worked to bring hope and love to the women of FAITH, whom she was one of. She lived her own struggle. She was HIV positive, a single mother, struggling with financial burdens and the cycle of poverty. But despite the opposition, that woman lived so boldly and truly. She laughed with a belly full of joy and her smile shone into the darkest of days. She was my right arm as we worked together bringing that group from its desperate state to where it is today. It has been full of struggle, difficulty, great success, tears and more laughter than one can handle. It was filled with friendship.

I remember in April, just after Easter, she came that Sunday beaming with news she could hardly contain. Ever since I've crossed paths in 2011, I knew that she was a muslim. She was raised in a muslim family, taught in a muslim school and claimed that as her personal belief. She was one my best students whenever we opened up the Bible to study new treasure and always loved discussing questions of all sorts. It was that Sunday she told me with such joy that she had accepted Christ and was baptized!

we danced.
we sang.
we laughed.

It was all so beautiful. Our diverse little family was bursting with life.

Navigating the days after Sarah's death were some of the most challenging times I have experienced. Being filled with grief and emptiness amidst a call to be a leader to the group of women who were all so broken with our loss was new territory for me. It created a struggle that forced rest and boundaries in my life.
That kind of emptiness and sadness produce something that is hard to put into words...
It produces something impossible.
It produced more of Christ in my life.
And it came because it was at the most fragile of times where I had nothing to call as my own.

Though the death of Abookie is still hard in many ways, it's bringing more life in each of us and in our group as we learn to walk in this kind of pain that binds us to one another. I became serious about taking care of myself... about not taking on too much, about resting and soaking in the presence of God. I'm learning about the perfect leadership of Jesus as He guides me through each day. He is truly so wonderful and light.

As Donald Miller puts it,

"I remembered about story, about how every conflict, no matter how hard, comes back to bless the protagonist if he will face his fate with courage. There is no conflict that man can endure that will not produce a blessing. And I smiled. I'm not saying I was happy but for some reason I smiled.               It hurts now, but I'll love this memory, I thought to myself.  And I do."

How few there are who die so hard

I died at age 23.

If living on the mission field has taught me one thing it's that it will surely strip everything from you until you've come to the conclusion of the one treasure that must remain.

The mission field has taught me how to die.

It's taught me how to put to death every selfish ambition, regard to self, and the desires of my flesh. There is so much that has been stripped from me that I wrestle with God over "...but Jesus, that's unfair! Why does THAT have to go? It's a simple thing! Why can't it remain? It's just unreasonable!"
But what's reasonable to us stands in the way of beholding that one treasure in our life. Any self regard or fleshly desire cannot co-exist with the godly desire and character that He's desperately trying to impart to us.
"I must decrease so He can increase."

I can't say I've ever been so stripped and tried as I have during these last 6 months. Many times I thought I had reached my end, mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually... but it's always at those ends that something dies off, allowing another piece to come to life.

I've died to comfort. 6 months of cold showers, no oven, no refrigerator, washer or dryer, scarce power, many nights by candle light, a constant covering of dirt and dust. When traveling far from the comfort of my bed I've slept on floors, covered myself with the corners of sheets, battled with bugs galore, blood thirsty mosquitoes, cockroaches, latrines, no running water, exhaust...

I've died to feeling understood and understanding those around me. I'm the only American stuck somewhere between Ugandan and Filipino culture. Familiar faces, culture and a common place are far from me. We speak different languages (even our English is different), we worship and pray differently, our frame of understanding is different and sometimes misunderstandings come all too easy.

I've died to nearness. Family and friends are oceans away. The missings are sometimes overwhelming and loneliness is no surprise. I've given up the community that has nourished and grown me. I've said goodbye to grabbing coffee with a friend, spending hours on the docks sharing life with those so dear to me and watching my nephew grow up into his little quirks and forming personality.

I've died to my image and self-identity. The things that I considered parts that represented me, clothing, style, preference, they took a slow death march as I adhered to the expectations of this culture and my position...

I've died to individuality. In a place where you can't travel anywhere without being the center of attention, with kids shouting "MZUNGU! at the top of their lungs, parents laughing, constant staring and comments all over. You die to that piece that just wants to blend in and disappear. Going from living on your own to staying with four kids also teaches you to die to individuality. Your things are shared, including the singing, shouting in the early mornings and the responsibility of family.

I've died to preference and taste. No, I don't prefer eating rice for every meal, having salted and dried fish or limited access to the foods I enjoy. The little that I do prefer is often far from reach and at times bread is your only option, so you learn to die and develop a gratitude that comes from simple provision.

I've died to entertainment and an overabundance of things. Many nights come and go where your only entertainment is the company of the kids around you or a good book. You learn that you can live off of very little, much less than you would have ever imagined.

This place has taught me how to die. Slowly stripping every detail of what I once held as necessary.
We are all in the messy process of dying, and it is as difficult to experience as it is to observe. Although we may die, it's not an end of morbidity and loss but of the beginning of life in all its abundance.
That's the gift, the goal, the purpose.

"Most assuredly I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone, but if it dies it produces much fruit." -Jn 12:24

As I'm in this messy process, God has been bringing to life the ability to appreciate and find thankfulness in every situation. And I mean every situation. The good, bad and absolutely hideous. That is something I don't believe I could have learned in such depth like I have during this time. He's bringing to life the simplicity of His gifts and truths. That He truly is enough... in abundance and in need. He's bringing to life the weight of His calling to go and bring the greatest news we can ever discover to the nations before us.

"Great victory has never been possible without great sacrifice." -Samuel Zwemer


And I know it'll be worth it.

Life In Review

You know how time has a way of slowly but steadily slipping itself aside? Well, I sure do and I've found it to be one of the greatest difficulties of keeping all of you up to date. So here's to a post about the last few months in review! Since there is an overflow of words that could be used to describe the last three months, I'll save you a hefty novel and try to stick with some pictures instead.

In December two of my very dear friends flew halfway around the world to come and experience life here with me. It's hard to express the kind of love you feel when those in your life sacrifice their time, money and significant holidays just to be with you. With the helping hands and full hearts of my friends we were able to do some really neat things for our church and the community.

The four of us gals got to take part in holding a three day youth conference at our church for the surrounding churches and community. When we went forward in planning this conference I didn't realize that what we were doing was really a new thing for so many students. Youth conferences are common here in many churches but they really only consist of praise & worship, prayer, workshops and preaching. The students can sit through 4 preachers with only praise & worship in between (I'm not sure how they do it)! So when we had team competitions, game hour, and demonstrations in our preaching, it was really a new thing for them!

It was a lot of work for all of us at the church but it was a total blast! And I heard so many testimonies after the camp about all that the students had learned and how much fun they had all had together.

Game hour. Thanks to our gifted Young Life leaders, we were well equipped with silly ice breakers and team games to keep everyone plenty busy!

We also have had the sweet opportunity to begin a new venture with our HIV+ women (FAITH women). We started learning new crafts together to help support them with sustainable income.

It began with Krista teaching them how to make bracelets one day and then we started exploring other venues like weaving mats, money purses, and making paper beads for necklaces.

After Christmas we held a second annual program for our FAITH women called "A Day to Remember". We rented out a space in a nice hotel, had them dress in their finest gowns, painted their nails, made bracelets, painted cups with their names on them, shared a delicious meal, worshiped together, did skits and showered the love of God upon them. It was such a treasured time with those women!

A new ministry that Julia has helped spearhead in the secondary schools is teaching students how to play American Football and playing flag football together on a weekly basis. We play every Monday and Saturday at the schools and every Tuesday at the church. It's been one of my favorite things!

Some of our church members playing together.

Some odds and ends: We've done A LOT of traveling in the past months. I've traveled to northern Uganda, all the way down south, to the East (we stay in the West) and a lot in between! We've had some cool opportunities to visit some of our project sites (mainly with fish cage farming). We visit the local communities, meet beneficiaries and see the progress of our work as an organization.

This is one of our communities that will benefit from the fish cages that we're working on completing. 

In the last few weeks before my friend Julia flew back to the states (she had been with me for the last 5 months), we focused hard on our health program. So we set up to do HIV/AID prevention in two secondary schools.

We battled with our sound system, intense rain and too many students jammed into one place but we learned a lot as a team and took hold of a vital opportunity to talk and teach about this epidemic.

The weekend before Julia flew out we also planned a medical mission out in the village of one of our daughter churches. It was two exhausting days and a nonstop flood of people needing medical attention.

I got assigned to be the Pharmacist for the two days and was quickly affirmed in my decision to not pursue a medical career. Haha, it was an incredible honor though to bless that community in the capacity that we were able to.

We closed out our final days together with a candle light celebration for Julia with our church members.

It was an incredible last five months together with Julia. We've experienced great challenges, disappointments, adventure and unimaginable joys together. I had to part ways last week with this dear friend of mine and it feels like something is lacking without her here but I look ahead to the months to come and even greater adventure in this beautiful land.

My deepest love and appreciation to everyone who has supported me and the work we're doing here. Your prayers, financial blessing and encouragement have sustained me and the work I've taken part in here. Thank-you for blessing me and this country!

Let your hearts revive

I'm finding that my ability to express life here is often stunted by the array of areas that living in this land touches. Life here has a way of being a thousand different things all at once. I could say so much about it that it almost leaves me with nothing to say at all. This is a place where I experience some of the greatest joys, deepest sorrows, times of fulfillment, utter disappointment, loneliness, peace, unrest and everything in between. This place can be completely paradoxical yet so bare and simple. So I found myself unable express anything here, almost altogether. I stopped writing. I stopped journaling. I stopped trying to capture my thoughts and emotions because they were too many things all in one. And at first I didn't even recognize it, I figured with the busy month of December some things were just being naturally neglected. Slowly by slowly, God started revealing to me that there was an absence of remembering, of processing and expressing life in all that it was here and that it was a problem. The monotony and difficulty of life here suppressed the true passion and joy that I've felt for this place. Even though there were tremendous victories, sweet moments and days of enjoyment the unexpressed lull that fell upon my heart overcame and silenced my ability to understand much of what I desired to convey. After recognizing this deficiency I was lost as to what I could do about it. Each day I just felt God telling me to be obedient to the tasks before me, even though the feeling was as though I had lost the drive and passion for it. The constant reminder that my calling here isn't based on feeling kept me obedient and true to what he's asked of me. I had a timely reminder of a passage in Luke that held me from abandoning what I know he's asked of me...

Suppose one of you had a servant plowing or looking after the sheep. Would he say to the servant when he comes in from the field, 'come along now and sit down to eat'? Would he not rather say, 'Prepare my supper, get yourself ready and wait on me while I eat and drink; after that you may eat and drink'? Would he thank the servant because he did what he was told to do? So you also, when you have done everything you were told to do, should say, 'We are unworthy servants, we have only done our duty.' -Luke 17:7-10

Thankfully, we serve and loving and kind master who followed up each act of obedience with a gift of excitement and passion for each task as I entered into it. It always came as I stepped out in faith and it renewed and revived my heart. I feel Him restoring the lost words and reestablishing my expression of joy in this place that is home.

"You who seek God, let your hearts revive. For the LORD hears the needy and does not despise his own people who are prisoners." -Ps 69:32b-33

Come and Rest

I’m at a point in my time here where I am just physically tired and worn out. All the early mornings and days of travel have finally took a toll and I find myself at a mentally and emotionally challenging place, since those are usually the next two things to be attacked when the physical is lagging. Yesterday we had a 5am wake up and travel to the capital for a presentation and meeting. After we left the long but successful meeting (God always has a way of honoring the work He calls us to) our bellies were hungry and our energy was fading and yet, we still had another 3 hour journey on the taxi to face. At times our moments of rest here feel like a flash and then we’re on to the next task before us… and it’s easy to continue moving and doing like that because let’s face it, there will always be something that needs to get done or something that can steal away our moments of peace and times of rest. That is why I am so thankful that our faithful God doesn’t allow us to continue in our own strength and unrest for long and he is quick to confront and supply. On our bumpy and tiresome ride home I could hear him pulling at my heart as I watched the sun descend, “Lindsey, the sun is setting on tired and weary hearts who strive and toil without receiving my perfect rest… are you going to do the same? Or can my beauty bring closure to your exhaust and my dawn bring a fresh strength to your heart and life? How long will you carry the burden of the work here without offering me a chance to prove my strength and might? Come, my daughter. I know you are heavy with the burdens of this world, I will give you rest.” So I rest in Him and surrender my striving and agenda that is full and tiresome. Sitting between the two women and a little babe on the bus I realize that despite my physical exhaust, there is no place that I’d rather be than here in His love and rest.

“Jesus was sleeping in the middle of a life-threatening storm. The disciples woke Him because they were afraid of dying. He exercised authority and released peace over the storm. It was the peace of heaven that enabled Him to sleep. And it was that same peace that subdued the storm. You only have authority over the storm you can sleep in. 

If I am filled with anxiety in any given situation, it becomes hard for me to release peace—because I can only give what I have. Authority functions from heaven’s peace.
Even after the disciples got their answer to prayer, a stilled storm, Jesus asked them about their unbelief. For most of us an answer to prayer is the reward for our great faith. In this case they got their answer but were said to be small in faith. He expected them to exercise the authority He had given them to quiet the seas themselves. Instead they asked Him to do it. We often pray in the place of risky obedience. 

Real faith is anchored in the invisible realm and is connected to the authority given in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ. The authority to cast out demons is found in rest. Rest is the climate that faith grows in. It comes out of the peace of God. And it is the Prince of Peace who will soon crush satan underneath our feet! What is restful for us is violent to the powers of hell. That is the violent nature of faith."

-When Heaven Invades Earth, Bill Johnson

Our Expressions of Faith

I sit in the office and read... The sound of over 600 children from the school and orphanage is shadowed by the music and shouting that erupts from the church. The afternoon prayer overwhelms me in volume and style. I don't understand it or this expression of faith. The shouting, the continuous repetition and appeal of emotions... Me and my American friend look at each other, without an expression of words while the praying continues. We begin to examine ourselves in silent searching. This marks a week of intense differences in the expression of our spirituality. Corporate prayer and worship is one of most contrasting areas in this new culture. I find it to be an area of great struggle since it is so far outside of how I exhibit these things in my own life. Yet, in the same moment I can also find it to be one of the most beautiful articulations of worship to God. At times, I want to become critical and pious but instead Jesus calls me to look first at my own Westernized expression of faith. What is right? What is true? I feel conflicted but who am I to question or judge another's experience of faith. I want to legitimize my own experience by saying that it's the right way or the best way but it's spiritual pride and ignorance to limit the God of the universe in such a way. I don't understand or know the answer to my internal conflict... but I keep my prayer simple: open my eyes to see your unlimited majesty so that I may join in the song of heaven. Lord, show me the limitations I've put on my own expression of faith. Help us to learn together and to challenge one another in our faith and the loving of our God.

"What do the elders see that make them all fall down? What do the angels see that make them cry holy? ...for we have to know..."

Don't leave your joy behind

This last week has been full of travel and moving about the country for different meetings and visitations of purposed project sites. Travel here tends to be a little more taxing due to the terrible road conditions and pot holes that will swallow your car. Everyone always jokes with me about how I fall asleep so quickly on our journeys but I just tell them that it’s just my coping mechanism to the driving here… better to just fall asleep than have a heart attack! While it has been tiring to be somewhere new almost every other day, I’ve really enjoyed the time spent with everyone. I love sitting in the car together, laughing, listening to worship music, and sharing stories of great faith and the beauty of our God. I love the glimpses I get here of true joy and the enjoyment of those God has given us. The work here is such a privilege and I continually find my heart dripping with thankfulness for the family I live with. Pastor Danny has a real gift of humor and anyone who meets him figures that one out very quickly. He can get the whole car to erupt in laughter without a moments notice. I love the way Dovie still laughs at him and never tires of his jokes, even though I’m sure she’s heard them a thousand times. I love hearing that real belly laughter from Dovie when her children are being silly and the light-hearted nature of the families that surround me. It’s such a gift in a place where it’s so easy to become frustrated and burdened with the way things are run here. Every time it would seems reasonable to respond in irritation, I instead hear outbursts of laughter. On Saturday we were heading back from Northern Uganda and our driver suddenly burst into laughter at the overkill of speed bumps every five feet… He just turned up the music and shouted, “All our bodies will dance now!” We laughed as we bounced and danced along the roads of Africa.

The Sacrificial Gift

For a moment things here feel normal and comfortable. I finish skyping with a friend back home, the tv entrances the kids into silence and laughter, we make plans to lay snug in our beds and watch a movie after a long day of ministry… all of us are occupied and distracted by the entertainment offered. A smile pulls its way across my face, since the comfort feels natural and pleasant. Then, of course the power cuts right when we’re on our way to make popcorn for the planned cozy night and we realize it’s just another night by candle light. We retreat to our rooms in silent defeat, having put so much trust in the unreliable things here. Another night of reading and journaling. Another night of soft flickering flames and quiet reflection.

My heart finds its way to the students and women I’ve encountered. I remember the Sunday spent at the secondary school, early in the morning… students packed in the dust filled school building with the only light shining from the windows and doors. The students sing and dance and as they worship it is as though they offer their whole body to the Lord. They shout and sway, stomp their feet and move to the beat of the drum. They gather every Sunday to worship our Father. Gratitude fills my heart at the opportunity to speak and pour into these hungry hearts. This Sunday they enter into the building clinging tightly to beautifully wrapped, bright colored gifts of all shapes and sizes. They have brought gifts for their prayer partners. My heart swells during the exchange as the whole assembly sings as each bring their gift to the front. Bashful smiles and sweet looks fill the faces of the students as they hand their blessings over to each other. I imagine the thought and sacrifice that each gift required. Some had verses covering the metallic wrapping and you could sense the silent pride that each person had in preparing such a wonderful present. An exchange of sacrifices for the enjoyment of one another.

My mind wanders to the faces of the FAITH women that fill our office every Sunday. I recall the tiresome day where all I wanted was to melt into my bed and forget my current exhaust and hunger. Instead, I found myself with these women after a long day of speaking to the students and attending service. My heart began to be strengthened, just by sitting with them. As I looked into their tough, yet tender and sweet faces, I realized the inner strength that each one must posses to fight the stigma and physical exhaust of being declared HIV positive. Gratitude fills my heart as we work through our study of Jesus as God the Son. Their questions and requests are honest and sincere. “Why is it important that I read the Bible if I store the word in my heart during service?”, “Can God forgive us since we’re HIV positive?”, “tell us about purgatory and why the Catholic Scripture is different from the Holy Bible…” At that moment I want nothing more than to be with those women, discovering the depth and riches of Christ Jesus together. We end our meeting and they gift me and Julia with green peppers, spinach and eggs. I can’t comprehend such gifts. These women and students give from their lack with an abundance of joy. There is nothing more beautiful than learning from these brave and generous souls. Needless to say, I left that meeting asking for God’s forgiveness for my self-pitying attitude for being too tired and hungry.

These people have given me something to feast on every day.

Thank-you Lord.