Honest thoughts.

When I wake up in the morning it is so quiet. Part of me prays that I can open the door to my 12 little kids waiting to run to me and give me good morning hugs.

Mixed emotions bubble up inside me when I get a children's song stuck in my head in Luganda. They always sang the same songs for devotion time, but I never stopped enjoying them.

Play dough, coloring, and legos are very therapeutic.

I miss the little mouths open wide expectantly waiting for a bite of my yogurt at breakfast time.

The kids got excited over the littlest things: a slice of pizza for dinner, sitting on their pillows for movie night, cinnamon sugar popcorn, washing their toys, pressing the Reverse button on the sewing machine.

Driving home several days ago I saw rays of sunshine streaming through the clouds, and the first thing I heard in the back of my mind was "Jesus is coming! Look, it's Jesus. He's coming back!!" That's what the kids say when they see sunlight beaming down. I couldn't help but cry.

Baking is so much more fun with a dozen little Ugandan assistants.

Good night kisses were one of the times I looked forward to and cherished every night. Hearing the words “I love you, Aunt Kelsey” as each of them puckered up to return my good night kiss would always put a smile on my face, EVEN if I had smacked my head on the bunk bed frame.

When the older kids came home from school, the first thing they asked me after giving me a hug was “Homework after nap, Aunt Kelsey?” I’ve never seen kids ask me to make them homework.

Sometimes I get overwhelmed by all the white skin around me.

Air conditioning gets too cold for me really quickly. But I can hardly stand this Texas heat.

Who knew I would ever crave rice, beans, and matoke? And I want some passion fruit so badly!

Movies just aren’t the same without Carol, Don, or Jerom cuddled up in my lap. And I can't watch Princess & the Frog without thinking of them all dressed in their pajamas with their precious faces glued to the television.

After I shower, there is no one to rub my shaved legs, smell the lotion on my hands, and play with my wet hair.

I hate always looking at my watch, feeling rushed, and being busy all day long. In Uganda there were many days when I would enjoy just sitting in front of the house having imaginary tea & chapatis and rolling a football around for hours.

I still can't manage to remember to put on my seat beat and always drive on the right side of the road.

The stars were so bright in Malikini. It was breath-taking.

It just doesn't seem fair to my human reasoning that a 15-yr-old girl should die so young of heart & kidney failure.

Sometimes I find myself thinking about the patients I met - if they have found peace & healing, if they are alone & afraid, if they're still alive.

I confess that multiple times a day I count forward 8 hours and try to imagine what my kids are doing at this moment. I wonder if they think of me, if they miss me like I miss them.

Despite all these thoughts, missing everything about Africa, and often feeling like an emotional basketcase, I am filled with joy & thankfulness when I look back on all the miraculous things I saw God do. That gives me hope.

On the brighter side, little things I'm thankful for:

Fabric softener, shower curtains, pest control, a coffee maker, milk that doesn't come in a bag, reliable power, toilets that flush every time, outlets that don't require converters & a surge protector, a ceiling fan in my bedroom. Family - the ones I share blood with and the ones I share Christ with. Hugs from sweet friends when there are no words that can be said. A Bible that I can always open and find a warm feeling of comfort & familiarity no matter what country I'm in.