Trip to the north

Last week I headed out with Kelli, Ryan, Makenna, Moses and Isaac. Kelli was running a youth conference, and some of them were in villages to the north of us. I've been wanting to go north for some time, and I decided it would be good for Makenna to get away from Jinja life and normalcy.

So at 6 a.m. Tuesday morning we all load up into the Prado and head out. We are all wide awake, despite the early hour. The sunrise was beautiful, and the fog stretching across the road added something to the landscape. If you look closely at the dashboard you will notice the condensation on the windshield... Ryan decided his egg, ham and cheese sandwich wasn't warm enough so he decided to use the car heater to heat them up. (No, it didn't work.)

After three hours, we arrive at our first destination, Pallisa. Most of the young people are already there. For the next four days the schedule is pretty much the same:

- Arrive
- Lesson 1
- Mingle break
- Lesson 2
- Lunch
- Lesson 3
- Head out for the next destination
- Arrive at next destination
- Fall into bed, exhausted
- Start at the beginning the next day

The days were long, but it was great to see how many youth showed up for the conference. Even though a lot of them didn't speak English, the translators seemed to be doing a good job in relaying the message. During question time, which was after lessons 1 and 2, for the most part, the young people answered the questions properly.

Hopefully, many seeds were planted in the hearts of these young people and the youth pastors can follow up.

Villages visited:
- Pallisa
- Soroti
- Ogongora
- Pajule
- Gulu

For those of you who haven't traveled to the villages, let me enlighten you on some village life. Of course, even we were spoiled into the mzungu version of village life. We had guest houses to stay in, some better than others, but we still had a bed and a western toilet. Unfortunately for you, I failed to take pictures of the pit latrines we had to use. They at least all had doors that closed for some privacy. We always brought our own toilet paper.. there never is any even in the gas station bathrooms. One pit latrine was so foul.. between the smell and then when you opened the door to go in, like hundreds of huge blueish/black flies would just buzz around you. At least there weren't snakes, or spiders. (Kenna did say that in one that she used there was a huge one.. glad I missed that.)

Food served while there:
-rice
- posho (which is corn flour mixed with water until it is like REALLY thick cream of wheat)
-beans
-chicken stew (which was made only for us, not the youth)
- more rice
- goat stew
- more posho
- rolex (not the watch, but a chapati which is like a tortilla but greasier, rolled up with a cooked egg that sometime has tomatoe, onions and green peppers)

This trip was actually my first time to ever have a rolex. In Jinja, I have never ventured out to have one as they always look too greasy, but when that is what is given to you to eat... it is either eat or go hungry. Makenna decided to take some pictures of me eating my first. :-)

Okay, so it wasn't as bad as I thought.

It was a long week. It was tiring. It was a lot of driving. A lot of listening to lessons... but, through the week, God was working on my heart. Even though the lessons were suppose to be for the youth... God worked on my heart, and He made clear somethings that I needed to address/change.

It was a good week and I am thankful that God's word is active and living and can work on anyone, at anytime.

8827 miles

8827 miles or 14205.8 kilometers... the distance between Uganda and Utah. That's like an 18 hour 20 minute flight.

What's in Utah? My older brother. He has lived in either Utah, Colorado or Vermont for the past 25+ years. Why? He likes to.. loves to ski. He likes the outdoors. Biking. Hiking. Skiing. So since he was out of high school he has lived in the states that offer the most ski time.

Being so far away, we don't see much of Rich. Even when we were on the same continent, we saw each other, maybe every other year. Life just gets...busy. No excuse, I know, but it just happens. We chat on email from time to time, we called when we were both in the US. I do think it is sad. My siblings and I have never been all that close. Don't get me wrong... I know they would have my back and I would have theirs. I know that we would be there for each other if it was necessary. It is sad though, because we aren't like the other siblings I see. We never had those close and private conversations that I see others have. We have never made it a point to see each other yearly at Christmas or New Year's.

I have no idea why this is.. maybe our circumstances growing up. Maybe we thought we each had to fend for ourselves. Maybe we thought the other wouldn't understand our thoughts, our fears, our pain. So, somewhere along the line we grew distant..

But like I said... I know we will be there for each other.

You see... this post, is not just because I am contemplating life and regrets. Maybe it should be. Maybe it partially is.

On Friday morning my brother went out for a bike ride. His last ride before he was going to compete in a race the following day. It wasn't going to be a long ride, he was going to be coming right back. At some point on Friday my mom gets a call from the University of Utah Hospital.

Now, let me pause here for a minute. Being a mom, that has got to be the worst call you can get. Your child is hundreds of miles away and a hospital is calling. I really think they should give some training to the nurses or Doctor's that call. I understand they have to say whom is calling from where.. but can't they start the conversation with "So and so is fine, but this is..."?

Anyhow..the nurse calls my mom and says that it is a hospital in Utah calling, and already my mom is imagining the worst, "He is dead. Something has happened and he is dead." My mom said in her email to me, that right then and there she almost faints. Just hearing the words, "I'm calling from the University of Utah Hospital."

Evidently when my brother went out for his ride.. at some point he passed out. They think he had a seizure or something. Right before he went down, right after? We aren't sure. What we do know is that someone who was driving along, saw him unconscious on the side of the road next to his bike. They call an ambulance, and it is not until he is in the ambulance that he comes to. Tells them to call our mom.

He is bumped and bruised and somewhat confused as to how he was out riding his bike and then in an ambulance.

The hospital runs some tests, as they must, when someone is found unconscious. The news is a surprise. At least for me it is. They have found a tumor in his brain. They say they think it has been growing for a while. They think it is non-cancerous. They will have to schedule surgery.

8827 miles seems like such a far distance, but when I hear the news, I am ready to fly there to help. He is my brother.

Even as I sit here and write, that is as much news as I have. I don't know yet what the surgeon has said. I don't know the date of the surgery. I don't know if there will be radiation to try to shrink the tumor. I don't know....

I do know that God is here, for me, for him, for the rest of the family. I know that no matter what God has our back.

Praising God:
-that he wasn't injured more when he went down.
-that he was somewhere where someone found him.
-that someone found him and took the time to help.
-that they think it isn't cancer.
-that we have email, so I can know what is happening across the ocean.

I am thankful that I have God here beside me to comfort me. That even when the unimaginable happens that He already knows.

Please lift my brother and the rest of the family up in prayer in the next few months. Tumor is a scary word. When you add "brain"... that tends to be even more scary. Pray for the surgeons. For wisdom. Protection. Peace.

8827 miles... it doesn't matter how far you are, if it is family, miles don't matter.

Beamer

Thankful for our cats, well, Kenna's cats. Not that they are indoor and we snuggle with them. They are all outdoor cats. For the most part they are more annoying than anything. Always at one window or another "meowing" for food. They are cats.. they are suppose to be hunters, and yet they are always at the windows, begging for more scraps.

At times they get so annoying, we spray them with my handy-dandy water bottle. Cats don't like water, they don't like being wet. A little spray in the face, and amazingly they find something better to do.

So you see... I am thankful for our cats. (yes, that is oozing with sarcasm).

Wednesday started like any other day. We get up. We get ready. We go open the Keep. Around 9:30 am we get a call from Trevor, who likes to sleep in a bit, that one of the cats, Beamer, has been bitten by a snake and is dead.

Of course, our first response is "Get back in the house and don't come out until we get home." A snake in the yard, in Africa is not a good thing.

On arriving home, and inspecting Beamer... he has been dead for a few hours. Rigor mortis had already set in. But there on his left front leg is a wound. On closer inspection it appears to us, that yes, it is a snake bite. No other injuries. To be safe, we call the vet.

The vet comes (amazing that here the vet comes and makes house calls) and confirms that it is a snake bite.

Poor Beamer. He was a really good cat. Really sweet with the kids, and less annoying than the other ones.

Here is the reason why I am thankful for the cats. It could have been Declan. We didn't even know we had a poisonous snake in our yard. Sure, we've had snakes.. but nothing that was poisonous.

After talking to the neighbors we find out that they had recently sprayed their property because a snake had been disturbing their dogs. When they sprayed, their guard saw a cobra leave their property and go into ours. Of course, we find this out after Beamer is dead.

But Beamer was bitten, not Declan or Trevor or Makenna.

I am thankful for the cats. I am thankful to God who protected my family.

Trevor

I realized, last night as I couldn't sleep, that it has been awhile since posting here, AND it was Trevor's birthday on Monday. I have a hard time figuring out what to post about, as it seems my days are filled with the same "nothingness". What better topic to write about than a son. So, here it goes.

Monday we celebrated Trevor's 14th birthday. Fourteen years. He is now the same height as me. Daily he stands next to me to see if he has finally surpassed me in height. I think I still have a few months before he is looking down on me. Fourteen years.

If I think back to fourteen years ago I have mixed emotions. Mixed emotions because I am not one of those ladies who glows when pregnant. One who is thrilled about the changes her body takes. Don't get me wrong. I love babies. I just don't love the pounds it puts on, the un-comfort, the nausea.... I guess it really didn't help that I got pregnant with Trevor six months after having Makenna. In my mind... I was pregnant for three years.

A few things stick out to me about my pregnancy. I can remember trying to paint a mural in Makenna's room with my ever-growing belly. I didn't quite complete it before I just couldn't get around the vastness of my torso. The room would be finished months after giving birth.

I remember going to a neighbors house and sitting in her recliner chair with my right arm lifted over my head. This is the only way I could get comfortable. With Trevor lodged up under my ribcage, anything but stretched out was uncomfortable.

I remember we decided to find out what he was going to be. And when we found out he was going to be a boy... Trevor was the only name I wanted. Trevor was named after my younger brother. A story which I might post about one day.

I remember deciding to schedule a c-section. Makenna ended up being a c-section after 24 hours.. I wanted to bypass the exhaustion, get a good nights sleep and have a "refreshing" delivery.

I remember being at the hospital early on a Monday morning. Just Jon and I. My mom was to be there, but she ended up being late. I remember the total discomfort of Trevor still lodged up under my ribcage. I remember the Dr. tugging at him, trying to dislodge him from his dwelling place for the last nine months. I remember the pain in my chest from him being there, from the Dr. pulling..

Pulling.

And then...

I remember a tiny so tiny blue foot up over the divider. So tiny. So blue. Then the foot was gone. Whisked away to a table near by. No cry. No announcement of a boy. I remember the Dr. looking over at the people working on Trevor.. saying nothing. I remember me asking if everything was okay, and getting no answers.

And then... finally. The lovely sound of a cry. Through my tears, through my pain.. I am overjoyed... I have a son.

I remember going to the recovery room. I try to call my mom, to find out where she is. I remember her finally showing up and holding her first grandson, who's namesake was her son.

I remember the Dr. coming in later and telling me that if I had not scheduled a c-section that Trevor probably would not have made it. The umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck twice and his torso once. The reason why he was always lodged up under my ribcage. The reason he never flipped inside of me. The reason for my discomfort.

I remember the Dr. saying they were sending the cord out for testing to see how long Trevor had been without oxygen. I remember now, how I must not have really understood what the Dr. was saying, because I remember not being worried. I remember the Dr. coming in some time later and saying that we were fortunate as there was still oxygen in the cord, meaning that Trevor hadn't been long without oxygen.

I remember the Dr. saying that if Trevor had problems with hearing, with learning that it was due to the lack of oxygen. That because his one minute APGAR was only 2 that there was reason for concern. Again, looking back on it... why was I not freaked out?! I think I was so thrilled to have a son. A Trevor. That somehow, I knew God was already looking out for him.

Trevor. Named after his uncle whom he would never meet. Michael, his middle name, chosen because of the archangel Michael, the protector.

So many other memories, that I could write and write.

I am so blessed to be the mother of Trevor. I know God has plans for him. I know God protected him all those years ago. I know children are a gift from God, I know Trevor is a gift. He is special.

I only hope that I am the mother God wants me to be for him. That I am instilling in him what matters, that I teach him what God would have him know. To be a man of integrity. A man after God's own heart.

Thank you Lord for the past fourteen years that you have blessed me. Thank you for the gift that Trevor is.

Battles

I have been doing another Beth Moore study with a dear friend. I know I shouldn't be amazed, but somehow I still am. Amazed how regardless of what we choose to study, how God speaks to us through it. How on some weeks I have been behind and when I finally sit down to do the study I should have done days ago, it is applicable for just that day. Had I done that day's lesson when I was suppose to, how it wouldn't have hit me so hard, or meant so much. For me that is a sure sign that the word of God is ACTIVE and LIVING.

Living in Uganda has it's share of blessings and battles. Challenges/battles of cultural differences, driving on the left side, not having thirty different kinds of cereal, and a butcher who hacks your meat with a machete. Trusting in people is probably the biggest challenge I have been faced with. I am or was a fairly trusting person. My first instinct is to be trusting. Trust until there is a reason not to.

I find that here I am changing. I am a lot more leery of trusting. The past two years here I have been "burned" too many times from trusting someone outright. Some of them small, like just lying to my face. Some larger, like going to a witch doctor to place a curse and denying it. Some too large to mention. Betrayal. Lying. Stealing.

So what's my point? Through studying David I realized that from the time he was first anointed by Samuel to be the next king of Israel that he was pursued by Saul for fifteen years. FIFTEEN years. David had chances to kill Saul, but instead he cut a corner of Saul's robe or took his spear and water jug. When David confronted Saul about the chance he had and Saul was sorry for pursuing David, David did not go back with Saul. Why? David didn't trust him. " Saul went home, but David and his men went up to the stronghold". 1 Samuel 24:22

For fifteen years David waited. FIFTEEN YEARS. Can I wait for fifteen years? When I am in a battle, whether it is trusting someone or battling something within myself.... can I wait for an answer from God for fifteen years? I don't know how David did it. I lose focus too easily. My battle seems to be all consuming. Permeating everything in my life. Strangling me until I can't see straight, until I can't breathe.

And then, I get to this part of the study:

"Do you see what happens when we focus more on our battles than on God? Our enemy appears bigger, we appear weaker, and our God appears smaller. BEWARE! Long term battle can cause vision impairment if our eyes focus anywhere but up!"

"God has not forgotten. He has seen your battles. He has gathered your tears and blotted your brow. He knows those who have treated you unfairly. He knows when you're almost ready to give up or give in. Keep telling Him. Stay in His word. Keep claiming His promises. We need not despair . We must stand in God's word when the battles get tough and resist the temptation to panic."

When I read the above... I almost started crying. More tears for Him to gather. :-) God knows. I don't have to worry, because God is right there with me. What do I need to do? Keep in His word. Claim His promises. Galatians 6: 9-10 "Do not grow weary from doing good, for at the proper time we will reap the benefits if we don't give up to do good to all people."

Do not grow weary. Do not give up. Thank you Lord for the reminder, for the promises.

A family shot

As you all know, we are trying to find a teacher to come and "guide" Makenna and Trevor through their first year of high school. I had found this website through Rift Valley Academy that said they might assign teachers. I emailed that organization to explain that we were not missionaries in the traditional sense, but explained what we were here doing. They emailed back and said sure, send in an application.

One of the requirements was to send in a recent family photo. I discovered that we didn't have any decent ones in over two years, actually the last one was before we moved to come here. I tried for a week to round everyone up to take a picture. Finally, a friend here said that she would take our picture while at church. That was a great idea. After all, it is the one day Makenna isn't wearing her gloves and is wearing a skirt and the boys tend to dress in at least clean clothes.

The following picture is one of five. I can't believe how big Makenna and Trevor are.. of course I know they are as tall as me and soon will be taller than me. Makenna is getting taller and more strikingly gorgeous everyday. She is a big help with things around the house, helping with Declan and a huge help in running and maintaining the KEEP with me. She is more disciplined in her time with God than I was at her age. She is turning into a beautiful woman, young lady of God.. inside and out.

Trevor. I can't believe how much he has grown in just the last six months. He went from a size 8 shorts to a size 14 in like a month. He has sprouted up like a weed and continues to grow. I know I will be sad when he is looking down on me. He is already smarter than me. The way he retains everything he has ever read, is amazing. Now if I could just get him to be interested in things beyond video games and comic books. :-) I tell myself that that is just what boys his age are in to. He continues to be very patient with younger children. He has always been extremely kind and tender towards girls and children. I wonder what God has in store for him with that gift.

Declan. He looks the same. I guess that is because he is still young. Although he has grown a little, he is still small for his age. Unfortunately, he is momma's boy. I love that he still cuddles, that he still comes in for a morning hug. I know in a few months, a year, he will outgrow that. I treasure every one. I try to hug Makenna and Trevor and they make faces, or say "Ok, that's awkward". Declan loves school. He excels at math, loves science and reading.

I didn't intend on this post to be about the kids, but I guess that's what it was suppose to be.

Anyhow... family shot.... I sent that in the title of an email to my mom... she panicked thinking we were "shot"... of course I asked her if she really thought I would email her if we were shot. Would I be emailing at all?! I guess my choice of words was not so good. Sorry mom.

Happy 4th of July

It is weird celebrating our country's freedom while living in another country. I decided to dress the part. I didn't go overboard, but had red, white and blue. My boys decided they would join in the fun and dressed as patriotic as they could manage. Trevor's shirt was red, but had a ninja on it.

We enjoyed a party at the Davis's house. There must have been 75 people there. Mostly volunteers from different NGO's. We had hotdogs, hamburgers, watermelon, potatoe salad.. all the traditional 4th foods. They even managed to find some fireworks. Well, they are more like glorified sparklers but the kids all loved them.

So happy INDEPENDENCE DAY.