While walking by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon (who is called Peter) and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea, for they were fishermen. And he said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” Immediately they left their nets and followed him. Matthew 4:18-20
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k-LdHCuo5-Y[/youtube]
What He says we will do…
Where He sends we will go…
NEVER FEAR, only trust and obey!
The boys left fairly early this morning for a “guys road trip” of sorts. Mike, having just returned from 6 weeks in the States, is still catching up on the state of the village and had some miscellaneous errands to run in Gulu Town. He thought the guys might enjoy joining him on his adventure, as well as having the opportunity to visit the Bobi property, site of Village #2. Because of the drive time – 3 or 4 hours each way – and the need for an early start, breakfast was light: bread with butter and sugar, and tea or coffee. Knowing I’d need more than that to make it through until lunchtime, I supplemented with some raisins in the hut. Unfortunately, Winnie beat me to washing the dinner dishes from last night (they don’t wash dishes in the dark), and by the time I finished breakfast she was nearly done with the rest, so I decided to be sure to be early to wash the lunch dishes.
Lindsey brought the morning devotional for just us girls. She simply shared part of her faith journey from the last couple of years. The lesson that resonated with me was this: I have already told you what to do. Just obey.
Just obey.
Two simple words, but with a depth of meaning that is almost impossible to comprehend. Two simple words, but with a cost of completion that is almost impossible to measure. Two simple words to say, but not so simple to do.
Just obey.
For the past 6 years, that has been the call over my life and the cry of my heart. My God, I *want* to obey. I don’t want to live my life *my* way. I want to follow YOUR way. I want to walk in YOUR path. I want to experience YOUR blessing and YOUR favor. But it’s hard. And I’m scared…scared of what it will cost me…what it will cost my family. Lindsey’s devotional this morning struck a chord deep within me, a powerful reminder to obey God regardless of whether or not I understand, of whether or not I can make sense of what He is asking me to do.
All He wants is for me to trust…and obey.
We had some logistical issues to handle this morning related to our teaching schedule, so I wasn’t able to go help with chores at Kindness House this morning. Trace, Kristi, and I headed to the school office to discuss with Denis or Irene. Along the way, we met students heading to the latrines and each time, they would stop completely, oftentimes kneeling down on the ground, until we are past. It’s unusual to experience this level of respect and deference, especially considering we are “visitors”, but it is an honor to be treated this way.
While we were meeting with Denis, I had the opportunity to check out the school office. What an amazing transformation has taken place here in the past two years – talk about an extreme makeover! What used to be a completely empty room, with the exception of a table and chair, is now a fully functioning office and resource/reference room. Floor-to-almost-ceiling bookshelves create “offices”, and the backs of the bookshelves are decorated with important schedules, curriculum notes, and other pertinent information. Textbooks and reference books fill the shelves, along with school supplies and resource materials. It’s certainly a far cry from most American schools, but considering what it looked like the last time I was here, the difference is staggering.
We then wandered up to the bead room, which was my first time to be there. Kari, Victoria, Jenna and Kayla had been there most of yesterday, unstringing beads. Today, they were there again, sorting beads into patterns to make into necklaces or bracelets.
They were very gracious in allowing us to try our hands at creating patterns: 50 beads per bowl is what is needed for a necklace or bracelet. These bowls are what the mothers use to create their jewelry.
Their little ones stay close beside. Despite being only two or three years old, they don’t wander far, don’t behave like terrors, and love to “help”. Trinity was proud to show me how old she is.
We couldn’t stay long, as we were scheduled to teach the P4 class before lunch. We chose to use the lesson on taste, and knowing it required the most assistance, we asked all the girls to join us for this session. I had found a GREAT book to use, titled Chameleon’s Crazy Colors, and had a great time reading the story to them.
We had brought our own version of “taste testing”, using four different items to demonstrate the four tastes on the tongue. We passed out q-tips for and let the students dip one end into Solution #1.
They were quite relieved to discover it was sugar water. Solution #2 brought mixed reactions, as it was salt water. Very warm and VERY salty.
And then came our personal favorite…the cocoa powder. These kids thought they were in for a real treat when they saw it, immediately thinking “chocolate”. What a surprise for them when that chocolate turned out to be bitter!
We finished the lesson with a bit hit: Sour Patch candies. After their surprise with the bitter chocolate, we had a few that were a bit nervous. As it turned out, the candies were nearly a unanimous favorite.
Because the boys were out doing some male bonding, Ryan wasn’t there to deliver the Bible lesson. Kristie stepped up and offered to teach in his place.
As Kristie taught, Careenna wrote the Bible verses on the board. I love the way this team works together and supports one another!
I sat next to Rabbit during the Bible lesson. I helped her write the verses in her notebook and listened as she answered the questions Kristie was asking. At one point, Kristie talked about God’s love for us, and the object(s) of our affection. She pointedly asked, “Who do you love?” Jacinta looked at me and said, “You love Rabbit!” It was all I could do not to burst out laughing. Instead, I gave her a big hug. I sure do, Jacinta. If you only knew how much. I wish you could see inside my heart and know how deeply and truly I love you.
We concluded our lesson and headed back to our dining area for lunch. I loaded up my plate with posho only to discover there was also RICE. I’m learning to like posho, but given a choice, I’ll take rice over posho any day of the week and twice on Sunday. C’est la vie. I piled on the beans and cabbage Uganda-style and managed not to be too disappointed.
Thankfully, we had *lots* of dishes to wash after lunch. I’m secretly wondering if Winnie hid a few and saved them back for us. It’s possible God multiplied the dirty dishes much like He multiplied those loaves and fishes that time. I mean, if He can make enough food to feed 5,000 hungry men, it’s altogether possible He could also create just as many dirty bowls and cups. Regardless, Kristie and I had the opportunity to have some good conversation, real and meaningful, as we cleaned what appeared to be an endless supply of plastic dishes. God certainly knew we needed an excuse to talk just a bit longer, to communicate on a deeper level than just at the surface. As hard as it is sometimes to realize the age difference that exists between me and the majority of this team, as hard as it is to face the reality of how I must be perceived – I have more in common with most of theirparents than I do with them – I am humbled when my teammates seek my counsel and advice. It’s an odd place to be, realizing that because of my age, life stage, and “experience”, people look up to me. I only hope and pray that the counsel I give is wise and godly, because I certainly don’t see myself that way.
Our afternoon teaching session was a doozy – the P5 and P7 classes combined for a joint lesson. These classes are big to begin with…with big kids in them…and to have two together meant moving up to a much larger space. We met in the new – and as yet unused – secondary school building. We read the book to them…
…and did the taste-testing demonstration again. I’m deeply sorry we didn’t get video of Teacher Constantine’s reaction to the bitter cocoa powder. It was, in a word, epic. I’m sure the children arestill laughing over how we fooled him. I know I am.
We taught them the same song we’d taught the P4 class earlier that day, a little ditty about keeping your tongue from evil:
Keep your tongue from evil, keep your tongue
Keep your tongue from evil, keep your tongue
And your lips from speaking lies
Keep your tongue from evil, keep your tongue.
As we sang, some of the older kids in the back started beating on their desks. Soon, others started joining in. It was impossible to stop! We sang over and over with the rhythm pushing us onward. I realized right then and there we were singing words straight from scripture…straight from the book of Proverbs. Wise words for wise living. The Spirit of the Living God was meeting us right there, breathing God’s words into our hearts, searing His truth in our minds and in our hearts. In the midst of a nation torn apart by corruption and deceit, these children were singing a prayer over their own lives, whether they realized it or not: a prayer of commitment to truth and honesty, to integrity and character. I can only pray that God will bring these words back to them in those moments of need, that these children will rise up to be the instruments of change their country so desperately needs.
Elizabeth and I snuck out of the Bible lesson a few minutes early so we could be on time to teach the P1/P2 classes. Unfortunately, there was a communication breakdown and we ended up – once again – with no children to teach and no translator to assist. We ended up going back to Kindness House, where the house mothers and P1/P2 children begged us to teach them “American dance”…you know “to the right, to the right, to the left, to the left”…
So once again, out came Rachel’s ipod and speakers and we started doing the Cupid Shuffle.
There were a few brave house mothers who chose to join us.
Pretty soon, we had attracted a crowd. But most were content to just watch *us* dance.
So we did. Over and over and over.
We went out to the football field where the bigger kids were playing American football, including this one wearing a shirt I bought for Crisana on my first trip to Uganda three years ago.
This boy – this picture – represents so much of my mission trip experience. It’s almost impossible to put into words. As I look at him wearing a girl’s shirt – a 6-year-old girl’s shirt, no less – my heart hurts. It hurts because I know he has so little. It hurts because I know he has worn this shirt three days in a row. It hurts because he LOVES this shirt…is grateful to have it…doesn’t complain about it being too small or too girly or too whatever. It hurts because he could care less about what the shirt looks like. It hurts because I see joy just spilling out of him. It hurts because I know…I’m not like that. I look at my closet and I am ashamed. I look at my dresser drawers, jammed full with clothes I will never wear, clothes I don’t even need, and I am ashamed. I look in my house, filled with stuff, most of which I don’t need, don’t use, and don’t even like, and I am ashamed. Embarrassed. I look at my heart, a heart that complains about the stuff I have – it’s not nice enough, it’s not good enough, it’s not…enough – and I am more than ashamed. Oh, God…help me to be content with the too-much I have. Forgive me for my ungratefulness. Open my eyes to ways I can be a better steward of the abundance you have given me. Let me be satisfied with enough.
At this point, my heart was overwhelmed. I needed some time to process, to think, to “be still.” As I headed back to our dining hut to sit for a while, I met Patricia on the road. She handed me a letter…the first one I’ve received on this trip. And as I later discovered when I had the opportunity to read it, a real treasure.
I read the passion and praise in her letter, praise I’m certain I don’t deserve. To think that she sees me this way…as such a blessing in her life when I have done so little for her…I can’t even fathom that. But I’ve tucked her letter away in a safe place for that day, that day when those negative voices are just a bit too loud, too real. I’ll pull that letter out and know: somewhere in a village in northwest Uganda, there’s a girl who thinks I’m pretty special. Maybe she’s right.
There was a small group in the dining hut, mostly boys hanging out with Jon and fooling around on the guitar.
Morris picked up the guitar and began to play. This guy just oozes cool. In the midst of a village where children wear mismatched clothes and boys wear girls’ clothes (and vice versa), Morris stands out. He manages to look good no matter what he wears. He has a smile that could pierce through the darkest African night. His heart is kind and tender. He is polite and respectful and helpful. He is physically strong and very athletic. He can hold his own on the keyboard. And, as if all that weren’t enough, he can play guitar! Mike calls him a go-to guy, someone the other boys look up to. He is the real deal.
I’m so grateful God has given the village young men like Morris. With no fathers to speak of, the younger boys depend on the older ones to show them what it means to be a man. Morris is an amazing role model. He certainly inspires me.
And then there’s Pasquale. I love this guy. He thought it was funny that I would take a picture of him taking a picture of me taking a picture of him. Or something like that.
What a day this has been. A day of truly “tasting and seeing” that the Lord is good…teaching me, inspiring me, humbling me, using me. Blessed is the (wo)man who puts her trust in Him.
Yes. I am blessed.