It’s a question I’m trying to figure out the answer to. It’s just so loaded I don’t know how to give an appropriate response- one that will satisfy the interviewer as well as myself. The question is essentially the same, just dressed up in different words: “So how was outreach? Or What was outreach like? Or Did you have a good outreach?” I started out by simply saying.. “It was incredible, life changing.” They seem satisfied with my answer but I am not! I need people who really care to hear my stories and struggles and adventures and heartbreaks and joys! People like that are few and far between though so I need to find a way accept these simple exchanges and move forward. Knowing that I can unload on my mom or sister or a handful of really close friends as soon as I am actually home, makes this in between time doable. I keep coming back to God and curling up under the comfort of his arms- I know he is with me. I know he is loving me. I know he is my guide and confidant. I am hungry for revelation and Godly wisdom and Heavenly perspective. He has these for me and I will find them as I press in for more. 

My re-introduction into the wild wild western world was a bit of a slap in the face. The first thing I see in the Perth airport is a family with 2 teenage daughters wearing cut off jean shorts more suitably used as panties! And the parents are okay with this? What!? In my head if my knees or shoulders are showing I feel scandalous! Then the rudeness of strangers toward each other while passing through customs was astounding. In Africa people are polite and helpful and welcoming to everyone. I sat in my spot on the YWAM bus taking us to our temporary homes wondering what this transition would be like. That first night I opened my storage bag to find 8 pairs of shoes- my first thought, well I’ll give all but 2 pair away- who needs so many shoes! Then I realized I don’t have enough clothing for a week- eh two outfits will suffice for a weeks’ time. My first full day went smoothly. I had a tour of the new base- saw lots of faces I recognized but could only match about 5 names to said faces. This is not home… even before I didn’t feel like Perth was for me. We broke up in groups for the day and some of us went into the city. I felt fine… like no time had passed and it was no big deal to traipse around downtown with the girls. But after lunch and a handful of stores I was completely spent. Not an ounce of energy was left in my still jet lagged and weakened body. I pushed myself a bit too far, forgetting the fact that I just had Malaria and I’m not 100% yet. At base dinner that night I just sat there- unsure of what to say and not hungry… all I kept thinking is “this is so weird, I can’t believe I am here.” Where am I and what happened to my life?

 the new Perth base

I spent most of Saturday alone. I was feeling like space was needed. I need to process and rest and find my way. I had a nice morning at the local Christian book store then went home. I slept for about 4 hours after doing some laundry at my temporary house where about 6 other girls live. I woke up feeling a bit better and began to read a book my school leader let me barrow months ago… this is the first chance I’ve really had to read a book for fun. It was called Scared.

I couldn’t put it down. It was set in Africa and follows a young 12 year old with HIV and an American photographer. I felt pulled in- like I was back in Africa. The writer’s descriptions were tangible for me… I know the look of the stars and the setting sun and the way the mud cakes to the bottom of my shoes and the look of hope in the children’s faces when they see a white person, when they saw me. I felt the heartbreak and the helplessness the American character struggles with. I have witnessed first-hand the injustice and the poverty and death.  I’ve eaten a delicious meal just miles from where I knew children were hungry and struggled to finish my bite… I lived the confusion of ‘where is the line’ and ‘how do I help in a way that lasts’… that makes a difference in the big picture, without losing site of the small ones. I finished the book in tears. Weeping for the real lives and stories that this fictional character represents… especially the ones I know, have met, have prayed for, have held in my arms… This is really hard. Where am I?

I sat awake listening to my roommate snore loudly and thinking about the little moments of the past months. The things I don’t want to forget. I get anxious to write them down to ensure I won’t lose the memories… so many small glimpses that reset my hearts’ beat. I have work to do… I must write more!  

It blows my mind to know that so many people think being a Christian is a lifestyle of limits and rules and never having fun. They throw around the word religion like an accusation and it makes me cringe… Religion is rules, what I have is a relationship. Why does the world believe this lie that living the Way and knowing Truth is somehow boring and not worth the effort!? People it is so far from boring! What is at all dreary about an all-consuming love? A love that has no limit, it’s passionate, it’s earth shaking, it’s reckless. I live a life that’s original and countercultural, adventurous and a little bit rebellious. How is it that acting and looking like everyone else by playing with drugs, alcohol, and sex is considered cool?  I’ve lived that life and it left me lacking any purpose, hope, or satisfaction. The pleasure you get from those things last only a moment- but my life is pleasure after pleasure… never ending! The fulfillment and freedom everyone is searching for will not be found, except through God. Without Him you will never really knowing what life is about- never experience your full potential- never experience the impossible! If you’re looking for something more- if you dare to search for a supernatural experience with the living God- if you feel tired and empty- then do something crazy if you have the guts, ask the question ‘is God real?’ 

The pictures say it all. 

Rivers are graded to difficulty… a grade VI is considered not raft-able, likely to die! I was unaware that we were rafting a section of the Nile that’s grade V, the most advanced! =) ILML

Moments after this flip we were all in the water. It was the beginning of the huge set of rapids and hydraulics… so Duncan our guide called out “okay girls on the count of three take a deep breath” he could see what we couldn’t another huge rapid. I took that breath as commanded and was tossed all around underwater! It was so intense! What a rush!

I’m feeling a little discouraged tonight as I sit on my bottom bunk surrounded by my mozzie net and all my roomies getting ready for the week of ministry here in Uganda… recently a couple of things have come up that hit pretty close to my heart. Sometimes I have to type out my thought process with the Lord… like writing out my prayers.

God why have you made me so fragile? I am a strong woman but at the same time my heart is so delicate… I seem to feel things so deeply. Like my insides are torn apart when I see injustice. I have this anger at the unfairness of HIV/AIDS and poverty and starvation and murder and wrongful accusation and violence and fear and manipulation and hatred and the lack of healthcare and innocence stolen and people forgotten! I’m frustrated that we have giant beautiful mega churches that spend enough on fancy bulletin handouts to feed the poor Ugandan village of Kangulumira for a day. I’m sad that what I have paid for a monthly car payment could have provided for a family of 8 to eat, sleep under a roof, get a good education, and still bless others with the remainder!! I know I can’t compare all these things and I DO NOT judge people with car payments (please believe that)…. But it’s just hard to grasp, hard to settle, hard to accept when living in the middle of this reality. I don’t glorify wealth but I also don’t glorify poverty… I only want you to be glorified. I only want your name to be made famous in the nations. Having you- knowing you is like the finest riches that can ever be possessed.  I am rich in Christ. I can pass that prosperity, that lavish love, onto the poor, the needy, the orphan and the widow. BUT I can’t be like the one who says to the naked person, ‘oh I’m sorry you’re cold, I hope you get warm.’ And then just walk away! How far can a dollar go… it has an end… how do I meet the physical need in way that becomes self-sufficient… lasting. If I can help a family not go to bed hungry for one night… what good have I done? What does that mean for every night of their lives after?? Why am I going on about this to you?! You know… you hurt too… you want better for your children! Does it come down to my lack of faith? Do I not trust you the way I should? Do I just struggle with not being able to fix things that seem broken all the time… Why am I a fixer? The problem with this mentality is that too often I fall into trying too hard in my own strength. I must lean on you Jesus, I must fall into your strong arms! Hold me up God by your power alone.

Father I need wisdom. I need the kind of wisdom that comes from Heaven. Not the wisdom of man. I’m faced with challenges and disappointment in those close to me and heartache at their choices for their lives. Teach me to release these situations that I can’t change. Anoint me Lord to give wise counsel where you want me to and to shut up when my words would cause more harm than good. I want to be the kind of woman who runs to you first with everything. I want to seek you with all my heart and drop to my knees and lie back against your solidity and find perspective when it all becomes overwhelming to think about. Lord you know where I am at, and you know where they are at in their lives… you know what is needed. You know the healing and restoration and truth that must come. Oh Lord let your truth invade on the darkness surrounding these people I love so much! God would you bring down whatever is necessary, shatter the lies believed for so long, crush the insecurity, destroy the corrupting habits and may you, God of Heaven and Earth, sweep in at the end of the rope and tie that knot tightly… and rebuild the brokenness… turn the ashes into beauty. I long, oh how I ache for this. This is my desire Father, let it be.

This season of my life has been all about you, my Lord. I have handed over everything I am and everything I have to serve you. It’s my joy, pleasure, humble honor, and privilege to be your messenger of hope. And I’m not done, no this is only the beginning. I have a lifetime ahead of me and I will worship you with it. Jesus, you know what my heart yearns for. You know that I want my future to bring you praise… I am expectant of the time when I will be some lucky guy’s wife. I want to have a partner to stand beside… you have already promised this so I don’t search for it. I wait, but I wait patiently and fulfilled by your love and not in need of another person to secure my identity.  A man isn’t what I worry over- I know your plan for this will be carried out eventually =). What I am thinking about tonight is a scarier thought… I am thinking about my future children… the one(s) I will adopt. Walking the thin line of falling in love with a child this past week (Paroma) has made me realize that my son or daughter could actually be alive somewhere in the world right now. I’m flooded with love and concern and protectiveness for a child I don’t yet know. I desperately need your peace that surpasses understanding. Once again I need you God to be both mother and father while I cannot. Please be the protector, be the provider, be the comforter and nurturer. And I pray that you will guard my heart and mind. Help me to be patient.

Thank you Father, for creating me with this tenderness I wrestle with… I am glad you made me like this. I can’t imagine being another way. I can handle the lows because around the corner is a high… but mostly I can live to face tomorrow because you live… all fear is gone…because I know you hold the future… and life is worth the living, just because you live! Amen.

How do I even begin… but to say that she stole my heart the moment I met her.

She pretty much lives at the health center because this is where her grandmother works 6 days a week. Paroma is 8 months old but her parents are both away at college in far-away cities… they have not seen her since she was 6 weeks old. So Margaret, her grandmother, says “I guess I am the mother now.” Paroma is left alone behind a locked door in a makeshift bedroom that must have been a storage closet most hours of everyday. All the hospital staff knows her and has had the job of looking after her at times. She is a happy baby and the first time I reached out to pick her up she held her arms up to me. We spent a few hours playing and laughing and then snuggling until she fell asleep in my arms. Guys… until this moment of holding the precious weight of this dark skinned beauty I didn’t realize how badly I want to be a mother… and even let my heart dream for a moment that I would be Paroma’s mama and take her home and change my entire life plans for her… I would do it if God said so. But he hasn’t and so I tried to be very careful to guard my longing heart. We spent 5 days together and I always got my fix of Paroma… we have come to adore each other. She would reach for me whenever I was near and one point I found her on a patient bed as a nurse was administering injections to a line of  family planning patients. Poor little Paroma was exhausted sitting there, she reached out to me and the moment I had her in my arms she lay against my chest and closed her eyes. Within seconds she was breathing softly asleep. I held her for an hour this way… she stirred at one point and with her eyes still closed she reached up with one hand to touch my cheek and hold my chin… like she was just making sure I was still there, I melted. Another time I took her into the village with me to pick up lunch for the team. She had been restless and whining locked in her room alone. People in the village would stare at the Mazungu holding the African baby comfortably. Paroma is a little bit lighter skinned and softer haired than most babies so I wouldn’t be surprised if some people thought she was mine… in fact one younger guy was bold enough to ask me while we waited for our Rolexes to be made (not the watch, but a fried egg with veggies rolled up in a tortilla like flat bread, it’s good). He said, “Is that your baby?” I said “No, she is just my friend.” He said, “Do you want to get a baby like that one?” I said “Yes, maybe someday.” He said, “With me?” I said, “Umm NO”, I thought- sorry buddy but thanks for the generous offer.  He just laughed along with all the people standing around =) It doesn’t bother me that people want to joke around at my expense… I can laugh too. All the while Paroma giggled and played with my watch and my hair.

Margaret the grandmother was well aware of my affection for Paroma and she would often bring her to me or ask me to check on her. The three of us were sitting together in an office during a quiet moment and Margaret was talking to Paroma in Lugandan (the language spoken here), I couldn’t understand anything except the word America. I said, “Hey, what are you telling Paroma?” Margaret said, “Oh, I was just telling her to get ready to go to America with you.” She said it with this distant look in her eyes… I said, “No Margaret, Parma is already home with you.” Margaret responded in what seemed complete seriousness, “What, you are just going to leave her here?” I didn’t know what to say so I didn’t say anything. But my mind was racing… don’t tempt me, I would take her home in a heartbeat, I already love her and feel connected… but no. She belongs here, in her home, with her grandmother who loves her so much. The possessive protecter in me reared up again on Friday when Margaret brought Paroma to me and I instantly saw how sick she had become! Paroma had a slight cough and runny nose all week but I thought it a common cold. Today she was burning up, I took her temperature and noticed her she had rib recession as she almost panted with stridor sounds on the exhale instead of steady breathing. Her lungs sounds were not clear and her cough was worse. I was so concerned and brought her back to Margaret with my observations and concerns… this could be the beginning of pneumonia! We gave her a fever reducer and I prayed for her, but it was time for us to leave. It’s never been so hard to leave. It went against all my instincts to turn around and leave a sick baby behind. My concern is that Margaret brushed it away as nothing more than a cold. I am still thinking about her so much… please pray with me that God has healed her and on Monday I will play with a laughing happy healthy little Paroma!

Maybe also pray for me to have patience as I wait for the time when my own family takes shape, starting with a man! =) 

Rose was such a sweet little mama. I noticed her as soon as we arrived today. She was waddling around the courtyard of the small quiet hospital wearing a pretty sundress, stopping every couple minutes to brace herself on whatever was near during her contractions. She had been there for about an hour when I arrived at 10am. I found her name; Rose and she spoke some broken English which is wonderful! I told her to let me know if there is anything she needs and that I would be there to help her. She sweetly leaned/hugged me as another contraction swept over her. The morning ambled along- I love the pace here… definitely running on African time. Around noon Margaret the midwife nurse came to find me and asked that I do an exam on Rose. Sure enough the baby had descended well and she was fully dilated. Margaret decided that we should rupture her membranes, so this was my first time doing that procedure. Sweet little Rose was very squirmy… she just couldn’t control herself when the intense pain came… there is point known to midwives called ‘the ring of fire’… I can’t say I am particularly looking forward to experiencing this blessed point in my future. There was thick meconium stained fluids, meaning the baby was in some distress but the baby’s heart rate stayed good throughout. Rose was a bit frantic so Margaret called Rose’s mother to come in and encourage her (never would happen in a government hospital- I love that the family is involved here!). Moments later Rosa bared down and gave birth to her second daughter, beautiful, healthy, and crying! Praise the Lord! Now Rose was all smiles and sighs of relief. Later when I walked Rose to her recovery bed and reunited her with a bundle of pink cuteness, her mother enveloped me in a fierce hug chanting in broken English “thank you very much” then in her arms she began to dance me around chanting… Then she passed me to Rose’s sister who carried on the rhythmic rejoicing. I tried to turn the attention by making my own dance and chant “Webale Yesu, Webale Mungu” (Thank you Jesus, Thank you God”) This was a hit and the praised were lifted high by everyone in the room- along with some laughter at our silliness! I am so grateful for this amazing experience! Praise my Creator for this gift of life! 

Michael is 8 years old. I found him patiently sitting on a plastic chair in the entryway of the maternity ward. He was very careful not to turn his head toward the right… down the hallway that leads to laboring women! I took a seat next to him on the floor and said hi. We struck up a very one sided conversation, he was shy to talk to me, but he did inform me his mom was teaching people and he was waiting for her to finish (it’s family planning info day at the health center) Eventually I got a couple smiles and he even glanced at my face once… so I pressed on and asked what he wanted to be when he grows up. This little guy in his school uniform stated surely, “I want to be a doctor.” I was so impressed with Michael. He says he loves school and he would rather doctor up children than grown-ups. I believe God gave me the idea… because I wanted to do something special that would inspire and encourage Michael. I asked Michael if he wanted to try something that only real doctors get to do… he eagerly nodded his head, so I took my stethoscope and told Michael all about it and how it works. Then I showed him what to do to listen to his own heart beat… when this child heard loud and clear the thump of his own heart beating through my cool purple steth, his eyes lit up… he looked at me in wonder! I said, ‘can you hear it?’ he said ‘yaaa…’ with a grin! I think it might have been a moment he won’t forget. Lord I pray that Michael becomes a doctor!

Steven is 7 years old. He is living with HIV. Today I worked with the HIV/AIDS clinic and Steven was one of the patients coming for his bi-monthly check up. His CD4 count is still in the 800’s (pretty good) and he has no complaints or concerns so it was a very routine appointment, just refilling his prescriptions. But nothing seemed ordinary to me. I don’t want to forget him… I want to remember this little boy. His big brother brought him in and he spoke decent English but had a cute stutter and he grinned at my interest in his little brother. Steven was painfully shy. I wanted to scoop him up and find a way to make him giggle and act like the child he is… everything seemed much too formal and scary… I can’t imagine how he feels knowing he’s sick with a deadly disease and that every 8 weeks he must go to a special clinic and that every single day he has to take drugs. I want Steven to have a childhood and a future. I want him to smile and laugh more. Please pray for this with me.

I’m a little broken up over being face to face with so many children with HIV/AIDS. I held 5 babies as their mothers were coming for management of HIV… most of the babies are also positive. When Jane the clinic worker told me with the first baby, “that baby is positive for HIV”… I responded “Okay =) let me hold her.” I could see the mother was surprised I would subject myself to holding an adorable drooling giggling 4 month old with HIV. Puh-lease that won’t stop me, I am not afraid, and her baby is absolutely safe and worth my touch and my time. And I wanted that mama to know this… along with every patient. I made a point to touch each and every one. If they needed to be looked over for any little complaint, be it a sore throat, a fever, a hurting wrist, or a tummy ache- I was the one to conduct every examination.

Grace a 22 year old cried because her husband refuses to be tested for HIV or Syphilis which she has both of… meaning Grace can’t be treated for syphilis because he will just give it to her again… Grace was ready to give up. She said she doesn’t want to come back to clinic again and she was spilling out big alligator tears of desperate hopelessness… I held her and wiped away her tears and told her how precious she is to God and that he still has good plans for her life and that her children need a strong mama… Jane translated everything and by the end Grace smiled and recanted her statements about not returning… she said she will for sure be back next month, hopefully with her husband (that’s my prayer!). I made it mandatory that no one could leave the office until I prayed for them, held there hand, and gave the babes a kiss! At one point Jane the worker stopped a patient from leaving and said, ‘wait, you must wait, she is going to pray for you.’

Naklusisi was my very special and very first patient seen with Jane for the HIV/AIDS clinic… She is only 15 years old. She was diagnosed with HIV 4 years ago, but may have had it since birth. Her father passed away in 2001 from AIDS related illness. Now she lives with her mother and brother in Kangulumira, not far from the health center. Her records show that she is a model patient… never misses a checkup and never misses a pill! She loves school and dreams of being a nurse like Jane to help other children with HIV. She has the softest voice and I had to sit very close and turn my ear just to hear her. She came to me after the completion of her appointment saying, “um, I have a problem… it’s at school…” I took her to a secluded spot to sit down and talk about her problem… she says, “Well, the problem is that I am so hungry at school because I don’t have any money to eat when all the other kids eat… so I am just always hungry, can you help me?” How do I respond to that? What can I do? I ask more about her family and I have decided to visit her at her home. I arranged to meet her and go to her home this coming Monday. I can meet her mother, see the situation first hand and pray the Lord will make a way… I really want to help this sweet girl if a way is possible. I am still praying that God will show me what I am meant to do… if that means to offer the little I have or purchase some needed items or pray someone reading this might want to sponsor her education- she can’t afford her uniform or supplies. She is a bright girl and I believe her future could also be bright…

Every single day I witness great need… everywhere I look I see the poorest of poor barely surviving. I see children with swollen bellies, playing with sticks and rocks- wearing filthy rags and trashed flip flops if they are so lucky to have a pair. I played with a child today that had an open infected wound on his toe… and flies were living on it- he didn’t seem to notice. I met a sick boy with a bad cough and boogery nose who reeked of urine in his raggedy men’s t-shirt as his only piece of clothing. Another little boy wore two left plastic shoes.

There is just so much need… I see it, but it feels like the rest of the world isn’t really aware… I want to help every one of them, but I am only me. God help them, God keep them.