What to say

I don't know if it's still normal to feel at a loss for words when I think of the precious time I spent in Africa. But that pretty well describes me.

My mind & heart are still processing everything. I often have this feeling of unsettledness that is difficult to understand unless you've experienced it yourself. I think I may always feel like this until I'm back overseas where God has called me working as a nurse with the underprivileged & impoverished. But all the same, for now I am a senior nursing student at University of Mary-Hardin Baylor trapped in the confinements of school at least until May. After that...well, only God knows.

A few days ago I found myself wishing so badly that there was someone who understood, someone who knew all the stories, all the sights, all the feelings, all the chaos that stirs inside me. I can spend hours & hours sharing with someone, and it is still just a drop in the bucket. But then a little light bulb came on inside me, something I had always known but this time it seemed to give me great comfort - God knows. He is the only one who was there with me then and is still just as near to me now. He carried me through the hardest of times there just as He will here. And that is enough for me.

I've spent time this week reflecting and praying about what to share in front of people when I talk about Africa, but like I said when you're at a loss for words it just feels like you're going in circles. Someone told me to tell stories that reflect God's work in Africa. There are too many to tell. But I have discovered that more words aren't necessarily better. So I just pray that no matter what I say, God's power & heart will be seen through the stories.

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.

Faces of Jesus

While I was in Africa I saw reflections of Jesus in the faces of the beautiful people around me. Their miraculous stories, sweet spirits, and acts of love reflect God in all His glory & majesty. And I miss those faces.

Faces of Blessings

Face of Thankfulness

Face of Hope

Face of Kindness

Face of Joy

Face of Faithfulness

Face of Poverty

Face of Beauty

Face of Laughter

Face of Injustice

Face of Friendship

Face of Gentleness

Faces of Love

Faces of God's Provision

Home is where the heart is. And I left my heart in Africa.

It's been 9 days since I left Africa.

The reason my entries have become few & far between is simply a lack of words. No writing can do justice to the power of God I have seen at work. And that has been the same case since I have been back in the States. People ask about my summer, about Africa, but I don't know what to say. Half of me is a beaming smile when I think of the past 3 months, and the other half of me is a river of tears. I know. Sounds bipolar. But some of you may understand where I am coming from.

I haven't felt like myself for the past 9 days. It's like I'm a zombie going through the motions that I know so well, but my heart & mind are still an ocean away. I thought I was coming home, but now that I'm back it feels like I left my home in Africa. I keep wondering how long this will last. When will things begin to feel normal again?

For several days since I've been back to school, I have tried not to think about how lonely I feel. I've tried not to think too much about my precious kids, my friends, and all the sweet patients I met. It worked for a little while. But today is different for some reason. The memories are so vivid I can't ignore them. They make my heart hurt. A lot.

It tore me up to hear that all my kids got sick soon after I left Uganda. They are my babies, and I left them. I wasn't there when they needed me.

And then I think of the patients I met.

Baby Simon was just a few months old and so so sick - dying of AIDS. I felt so useless that day at the clinic. I had malaria but couldn't lay in bed for another minute or I'd go crazy. So I sat in the pharmacy. A young woman came in with her baby who needed medication. I held my arms out and asked if I could hold him. His eyes were glassy & could hardly focus, his tiny body was burning up, and his lymph nodes were so swollen I thought he had masses growing on his neck. Dr Ricky came in, and I asked what was wrong with the baby. "He has AIDS and is very sick. He probably won't make it much longer." Then he told me to give the baby 5mL Bactrim suspension. Simon's tonsils & lymph nodes were so swollen that he couldn't swallow or even cry. So I spent at least 15 minutes squirting small amounts of Bactrim in his mouth with a syringe and blowing on his face trying in vain to get the poor baby to swallow his medication. All the while I kept praying, "Lord, please help this baby boy. He needs a miracle." Today I keep wondering whether Simon is still alive.

That is just one of so many stories of people whose lives intersected with mine, maybe just for a short while, but all the same they have changed me. Now I am supposed to figure out how my time in Africa fits together with my life here in Texas. And I feel so lost.

My only comfort is that even when everything else seems foreign, God will always be familiar and near to me.

Stories of poverty

Every day God is opening my eyes more & more to the heartbreaking realities of extreme poverty in Uganda. It breaks my heart. There have been so many times in the past two weeks that I've wanted to cry out of sheer heartache for these people.

I know so many statistics on health disparities in Africa. I've seen pictures and heard stories. But to see these people right in front of me - it's so different.

They aren't just statistics on infant & maternal mortality rates anymore. I see faces, a woman standing next to me telling me about the dead baby she delivered at home a couple weeks ago with tears rolling down her cheeks. She had a severe, infected laceration that she had yet to see a doctor about because she has no money.

They aren't just numbers of children who die of preventable & treatable diseases each year. They each have a name - Corcus. He has spinal TB, a father dying of AIDS, and a mother who will openly admit she doesn't love him. This disease could very well kill him because there is no one to care for him properly and take him to the hospital for regular treatment. Instead his mother uses him to get food handouts while she leaves him to slowly die of TB.

They aren't just numbers of child soldiers. They are each precious children of God who have been stripped of family, home, and childhood to the scars of unspeakable evils.

I could tell you story after story and show you pictures of the horrible injustices that plague my thoughts every night.

Life in the slums. But no picture can do justice to the poverty.

Little Corcus. For me it was love at first sight.

I don't understand how anyone could not love this precious face.

I don't even know what to feel about all this. Burdened, angry, hopeless, angry, heartbroken, numb. At first I tried to distance myself from it because I knew it could get overwhelming if I let every story, every patient get to me. But how can I distance myself from these beautiful people who are in such dire need? And when they are right in front of me one after another after another?

It has been a blessing to be a part of the medical clinics reaching out to offer medical care to refugees, child soldiers, orphans, outcasts, and the impoverished, but it has left me with a heavy heart and a river of tears shed for these beautiful people.

My only solace in all this is the hope I have found in the Lord.

"O Sovereign Lord! You made the heavens and earth by your strong hand and powerful arm. Nothing is too hard for you!" Jeremiah 32:17

God is greater.

The beautiful busyness of being a missionary

I admit to being horrible about updating recently. Guilty. The days just seem to get busier all the time. Not that I'm complaining! It has been a beautiful busyness. God never cease to amaze me by His perfect planning. I am learning to take life one day at a time and know that God will give me the grace to walk through each day with His unfailing love, abounding joy, surpassing peace, unwavering patience, tender mercy, and servant heart.

Other than the regular craziness of caring for 11 children, Don has gotten special attention this week because he had dental surgery on Tuesday morning - 16 teeth extracted. And he has been such a trooper through the whole thing! It took 3 sticks for the anesthesiologist to start an IV on him. After the first stick, he continued to sit there completely cooperative without fighting back at all, but that made it all the worse when he looked up at me with tears welling up in those big brown eyes and said "Auntie Kelsey" in the most pathetically expectant voice like I was supposed to save him. The procedure went well overall, and Don's recovery has gone so much better than Michelle or I ever expected. The dentist prescribed him amoxicillin to clear up the infection in his mouth & prevent any further infection and for pain he prescribed ibuprofen. Ibuprofen for a 2-yr-old who just had 16 teeth pulled out! I thought he was crazy and tried to prepare myself for several days of crying in pain. But I am so proud of how brave Don has been. Other than about a 30-minute window when the local anesthesia was wearing off, he hasn't cried at all. We gave him 2 doses of ibuprofen on Tuesday, just one dose on Wednesday, and he hasn't needed any pain medication since then. He is one tough little boy!

Afternoons with the kids are especially busy since I started doing homework with them most every day. And the best part is they enjoy it so much that they wake up from nap asking for their work! I've made different worksheets on the computer (which they think is super cool since all their work from school is hand written by the teachers) based on concepts that each of the kids needs to work on. Let me tell you, I've definitely come to learn that teaching is NOT what God has called me to. But Michelle & I will continue to work with them on school work until we leave.

I also go running every afternoon that I can. It has been such a wonderful release =) Not the same as running back home, but I still enjoy it. I have to get back in running shape because I'll be running a 5K here in Uganda on July 24. And I'm going to have the cutest little cheerleaders ever! When I come downstairs in my tennis shoes & wind pants the kids know I'm going running. And when I get back they all say "Auntie Kelsey, I want to run with you." It's so cute!

I say things have been unusually busy lately, and the biggest reason for that is the MEDICAL CLINICS. Michelle & I have been blessed to team up with a volunteer team that has come to Uganda for 2 weeks to hold free medical clinics. It has been very different than expected but absolutely wonderful.

I will hold off on sharing about the medical clinics for now because I should probably be getting to sleep. We have a huge clinic day tomorrow, and I need all the rest I can get.

My treasure. My model. My love. My Savior.

Never has anyone given up so much. He renounced the joys of heaven for the sorrows of earth, exchanging an eternal immunity to the approach of sin for painful contact with evil in this world. He was born of a lowly Hebrew mother in a dirty stable in the insignificant village of Bethlehem. He became a refugee baby in Egypt. He was brought up in the obscure hamlet of Nazareth, and toiled at a carpenter's bench to support his mother and the other children in their home. In due time he became an itinerant preacher, with few possessions, small comforts and no home. He made friends with simple fishermen and publicans. He touched lepers and allowed harlots to touch him. He gave himself away in a ministry of healing, helping, teaching and preaching. He was misunderstood and misrepresented, and became the victim of men's prejudices and vested interests. He was despised and rejected by his own people, and deserted by his own friends. He gave his back to be flogged, his face to be spat upon, his head to be crowned with thorns, his hands and feet to be nailed to a common Roman gallows. And as the cruel spikes were driven home, he kept praying for his tormentors, "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do."

This utter disregard of self in the service of God and man is what the Bible calls love. The worst of men is adorned by an occasional flash of such nobility, but the life of Jesus irradiated it with a never-fading incandescent glow.

Humbling. Inspiring.

*The above excerpt was taken from Basic Christianity by John Stott.