When I first came to Uganda’s green earth six years ago at what I thought was the overly mature age of 26, Pauline was one of the child mothers I met who I was immediately drawn to. She had a quiet spirit about her and a face that spoke volumes of the hardships she’d […]
We just moved into a home that doesn’t feel like home yet. Four truckloads of our things fill the garage in makeshift heaps. Said goodbye to the open windows and the sunflowers. Before we could breathe a sigh of relief, that we and our children are not homeless, begging for bread on the streets, our
And so it begins. My husband just packed the truck full with the little bit of furniture we have. The pink desk. Our lopsided shelves. Now the china bowl from Zanzibar with the crack in it that I love because she said it reminded her of us, is empty on the floor. I remind myself
Give thanks for the morning sunrise I am well enough to see. Give thanks for the husband still warm in bed, his arm over his head in dreams. Some days we give thanks because we don’t know what else to do. Because if we truly look we can see the gems shimmering through the
Sometimes things get ugly. These babes of mine, they fight. And no I’m not just talking about my 5, 6, 7, and 8 year olds, but my grown women. Sometimes my friends here laugh at me and say how can I be a mama and a grandma (yes, it’s true—baby Dominion is in full effect!)
For some reason, before this year, I had never actually watched the African Queen. Which seems absurd from someone who spends most of her time in East Africa. I decided on my sabbatical that this was a wrong which needed to be righted. What struck me most was the determination of Catherine Hepburn. She
“and provide for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.” Isaiah 61:3 Most of you know I love *LOVE,* I love weddings, wedding dresses, flowers, and yes, even Valentine’s Day! This year, I want
I often wonder how Jesus felt after he came down from the mountain. The scripture is full of places where Jesus “slipped away into the hills,” and I’ve known the weight of why He did that. The sea of faces. The hands outstretched. The need. Ever growing. How did He feel when He came from
The new year finds me open and receiving, resting in these arms that long to carry me that I always seem to push away. After all the clutching and striving. After all the cement stained floors cradling a thousand tears, I let him hold me. I let God
So the rain pours sweet and cold. Washes away the dusty road grime. Cleans us. Fresh, like His love. I’m driving home after a long, sweaty day. I hold the tears back. 7 hours at the hospital. No food. No water. Only to find out another one. Another one has HIV. And she’s pregnant. Alone
When the baby stops breathing I feel the stone harden heavy in my chest. I am not there, but on the phone I expel quick words and urgent instructions. I feel the fear clutch. Not again. A thousand unanswered questions. A hundred expectant dreams. Not yet fulfilled. But I dream still. I say the
There is the old saying, “Be careful what you wish for,” but I think it’s more fitting to say, “Be careful what you pray for.” I’m sitting in my little prayer room which is sparse except for a yoga mat, a map of Uganda, a camping chair, a concrete floor strewn with tissues. But
