In retrospect…

So in debrief of our semester, the last week of Uganda, we were given tips as to how to re-enter into America. That week, I remember laughing out loud at most of the tips, as I thought to myself-

Self, that certainly won’t be me. I’m self-aware. I’m ready to take on this re-entry business. I can conquer anything that this transition may throw at me, because, well… I assimilate.

So, I do normally assimilate well to new situations, but the rest of that paragraph proved entirely untrue. If I’m being honest with myself, I thought that I had prepared myself enough for re-entry. If I’m being, again, TOTALLY honest with myself, I didn’t even realize I was having the thoughts in the prior paragraph until I arrived back in the states. I think the best explanation of the processing that has been happening over the last few months is as follows: I am on a teeter totter, balancing in the middle at the top… trying to hold it steady with the tips of my feet, so it never touches the ground. I am failing miserably. It touched the ground… on both ends… several times now.

That teeter totter can be a lot of different things, but I’ll try to explain as best I can.

I spent my first week trying to balance my thoughts between these two things:

Teeter:

“Wow I can’t believe I’m actually here…hot water, and {relatively} endless chocolate, and ice, and clothes that I haven’t worn in 4 months…”

and then the Totter:

“Wow I can’t believe I’m actually here… why the HECK do I have more clothes than I can even figure out how to wear… I’m NOT spending that amount of money on food… why doesn’t anybody understand Luganda… and why are the roads so quiet…”

And then the more serious things started to hit me, and I started teeter-tottering in other ways.

Teeter:

“What am I supposed to do with my life? I mean, I just spent time in Uganda, loved it… I would LOVE working internationally. Absolutely. I love learning about other cultures, and love learning more about God.”

And Totter:

“We learned so much about local influence, I think I need to stay home. REALLY. home. After all, that’s the context I understand the most, and that’s probably where I can make the most influence… so … I can’t leave…ever..”

And then there are the emotional teeter totters, which might be my least favorite. One day, I couldn’t be happier about being with my family, and friends… and then the next, I break down in my car by myself… for no really great reason, or for lots of reasons. Tears of process are pretty common these days. I miss the girls at Mirembe House pretty intensely sometimes. I get frustrated when I realize that I’ll probably never find out what happens to them. I also can’t stand the fact that I can’t appropriately put words to my experience. Once or twice, I’ve talk for hours with friends about the experience, and I thought that would make me feel better, but it doesn’t. (For those who have listened to those rants, THANK YOU. It means so so much to me.)

Don’t get me wrong; I’m enjoying the whole-figuring out how to apply this to real life-thing. I guess it’s just that sometimes, I just want people to be able to re-experience what I just did.

I want them to see the look on a pregnant teenager’s face after she has her baby and finally realizes that she needs to act 24 now, even though she’s 14.

I want them to feel the red dirt in their toes, and taste the fresh pineapple from the campus fruit stand.

I really want someone to hear my rural host father’s voice as he tells me how America is, or for someone to feel the Rwandan woman’s hug, and realize that she MEANS forgiveness… that she truly loves the person who murdered her husband, because that’s how God’s love works.

Those are the things that get lost in the big picture, but they’re also the things that are necessary to create the big picture… and it’s crazy to think that the picture of the last 4 months (4 measly months) is so big.

So I guess I want to share with you some of the big picture things that I’ve realized during the unwinding process of the last 4 months…

-God is SO unbelievably mysterious. But what we do know is that He loves people SO much.

-He does the impossible every single day; we just need to look a little closer at the things that at first glance appear to be mundane.

-He loves to show us how grace works via our own sinful selves, so that we can use it on other people.

-He is beyond any understanding, but so very very real.

-He is master over witchcraft, and every other dark power of this world.

-He makes things and people that are SO BEAUTIFUL—and when you realize just how beautiful He's  made them, you might just explode.

I also have this list of questions that I started forming… things that I want to ask him. Things that I understand less, because in Uganda I was starting to explore these topics more.

I become frustrated when thinking about all of this… about all the unknowns, all the things that are more confusing because of the experience I had in Uganda. We talked in Uganda about the tension that we experienced while we were there—in everything, tension was the theme. We felt tension when trying to get to know someone that we couldn’t speak to because of the language barrier. There was tension we felt when trying to balance our own values with the cultural norms in Uganda. We experienced tension  when trying to explain that America was definitely not the same as Uganda, but it wasn’t what other people imagined either; it certainly isn’t perfect.

What I underestimated is the new tension of reconciling this experience with home. But perhaps, I’m more sensitive now to tension that exists anywhere. Tension doesn’t just exist sometimes; it exists in every situation.

I’ve realized after coming home that really, tension in our lives will never cease to exist… until Jesus comes again. I guess I’m reminded of 1 Corinthians 13:12… “Now we see in a mirror daily, then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.” Earlier it talks about the time when tongues will cease and knowledge will pass away. “When the perfect comes, the partial will pass away” (v 10). For those of you who haven’t given up on my novel of a blog post by now, think with me for a minute. Those passages sure sound like we’ll never leave tension behind at any stage in this life. Because we are followers of Christ, we will always have that feeling that we belong somewhere else. Because we do: we belong (eventually), in a place without brokenness, in a place close to Jesus, a place where we see face to face what the tension was all about this whole time.

I guess now I’m trying to, in the spirit of my Faith and Action class, “embrace the tension,” as a certain professor might say. I’m trying to embrace the awkward, even here… reminding myself that it’s all growth, and it’s all there because we do not yet see face to face. In the big picture, I’ll never leave the tension, because there are always questions left unanswered and mysteries about God left unknown.

So, friends, (this sounds really cheesy, but) let’s embrace this tension together. Let’s let our experiences; no matter how large or small, sink into our beings and let’s let God use them how He will. That’s what it’s all about right? Remaining open to HIS timing and HIS purpose? This partial understanding drives me crazy sometimes, but it also reminds me how small I am. It reminds me that the words I say, or the things I do won’t ever matter unless they’re anointed by God’s Holy Spirit working in me and through me. I’m praying now that He just works as He sees fit. In my life to come, and in my time in Uganda, and in every other part of my life that is in the past or present or future. I’m praying that God makes Acts 20:24 true in my heart. “However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace.”

One of the last.

So it’s the last night before we head as a group to Rwanda, to learn about the genocide. SO MANY EMOTIONS.

I should fill you in on the last few weeks at Mirembe House—it was increasingly sad as the time grew closer to the end, and last Thursday I finally said goodbye to the girls and the staff. A total of 5 babies (with one resting in peace) have been born to moms while I’ve been there, and each time it’s just as shocking. I’m now an auntie, and although I’ll never see any of those babies or their moms again, I’m so thankful for the time that I’ve spent at Mirembe House.

I slept over at Mirembe House one night, and realized that even though I’m a little older than the girls, most of them just feel like friends; not clients. That’s the kind of organization Mirembe House is… it’s a community.

I was thinking about what to write this week, and I realized that as much as I love to include stories, they almost cheapen the experience. They bring some life to the work that’s going on at Mirembe House, but they also take away from seeing the girls’ smiles, and hearing their words, and realizing that they’re not just “pregnant teenagers” but beautiful sisters of Christ that have some of the most difficult challenges to face. They each have a different personality, a different story, and different barriers. As much as I want to share all of them with you, you have to know that each one is SO MUCH more beautiful than I can express in words.

Now that you know how impossible the task is, let me try to convey just how beautiful they are, and just how much they’ve touched my life.

In the baby books that the girls made towards the beginning of the semester, they wrote letters to their babies… one day during my last week, I snuck a peak at one of the girls’ letters. I couldn’t hold in my tears, as the letter expressed in slightly broken English that the mom wanted her baby to have the best life possible; that she would always pray for her, always hope for her, and always have her baby in her heart. She wanted her baby to know that it is a precious gift from God, and that it was made in God’s image, and uniquely designed. She wanted to tell her baby that it could do anything in the world it wants to as long as God is on its side.

There was a movie night the other week, and as we set up the movie, the girls started to dance to music that a staff member was playing over the speakers. My coworker said it so succinctly;  “I love to see them when they’re acting like teenage girls. It’s like they just get to be young again… just for a moment, they get to forget about the challenges they’re facing.”

One of the girls who is pregnant due to rape is a refugee from Congo. I didn’t know her story until last week, but I never would have guessed. The love she shows to me even though we can’t communicate, and the joy that she brings to all of the girls is incredible. Her gentle spirit brings warmth to your heart, and a smile to your face. She gave me about 4 hugs before I left, and smiled as she handed me a bracelet that she made me. God is so present in her life. Her baby will be so lucky to have such a beautiful mom.

One of the girls, who has been there the longest started to teach the new ones the lessons that I had taught a long time ago; about encouragement, and facing challenges, etc. She taught them how to make bracelets and baby books while I wasn’t there. I swear, it’s like she’s a house mom herself.

I could go on for so long about each one of them. I hope and pray that I don’t forget the lessons of love that I’ve learned from each one of them. I hope to always remember the inspiration that I’ve gained from the staff, pouring their lives out into these girls.

The last day, the staff and girls threw a lunch party for me—they set up special tables, and decorated a bit. I cried as they gave speeches for me… it was SO humbling to hear the things that the girls have learned, and the encouragement that the staff had for me. I failed to express just how much each of them meant to me, but I tried my best. As I was leaving, I was reminded again about what one of my friends had said… about holding people in her heart. I can’t help but realize that even though I may never see these girls or staff again, they’re forever a part of me now. Their laughter, and jokes, and hardships were so real while I was there. I am only able to praise God for the chance to learn from them, and work alongside them.

As for Mirembe House, I know they’re doing God’s work. My supervisor and I were talking about how efficient it is to have a home like this, especially in Uganda. Not only is Mirembe House instilling hope in these young women, but they’re also changing the lives of the children. Because these girls are given an opportunity to discover their real worth, and learn about how to be a good parent, and learn about how much God loves them, their children will be exposed to the same things.

Not every story is a complete success story… visiting one of the moms that recently had her baby, I was able to see clearly that life after Mirembe House is a STRUGGLE. But, she was still able to look at me in the face, and remind me that God will provide for her, and that He has been faithful and still will be faithful—despite the hardships. The same mother never would have said that before Mirembe House.

So lesson learned. Life brings HARD stuff, but God is faithful. And Mirembe House is being faithful to His call. Praise God for people who are willing to give everything to bring His hope.

As I leave for Rwanda, and then for the States, prayer would so much be appreciated for the following things:

--For my heart to be open to learning in Rwanda.

--For my heart to be open to coming back home

--For the girls; for HEALTH, and that that they’d continue to learn and grow in the love of Christ.

Thank you for following J. See you all soon!!

T minus 3 weeks...

You know those moments when realize how small you are?

I’ve had quite a few of them over the past few weeks—

I realized how SHORT my time here is, and realized how much of those girls’ lives are ahead of them-it made me feel guilty for leaving.

I don’t WANT the girls’ ideas of Americans to be people who simply come, see, feel sorry, and leave.

I don’t WANT to just hope that God’s presence is evident in the rest of their lives. It feels like closing my eyes and crossing my fingers and just walking away.

I don’t want to just imagine that they live with a sense of grace and purpose. I’d rather see it happen, or even just be there if it doesn’t.

I don’t WANT to tell them that they will probably never see me again, but it’s true.

The past few weeks have been great—another baby was born healthy and beautiful, and 2 more clients have come to Mirembe House. I’ve been able to sit in on more counseling sessions, and do some more of my own individual counseling. The girl that came in a few weeks ago that at one point in time felt done with life is now already doing amazingly better. She’s smiling every once in a while, and has a baby book made. I know she still has struggles—dreams that haunt her, and questions about the future. But she KNOWS that there are people who love her.

I was typing out minutes from staff meetings that dated back to 2011, and I got pretty jealous of the staff and volunteers at Mirembe House. They get to really be a part of these girls’ lives even after they leave. They get to visit, and be aunties to the babies, watch the kids grow up, and witness success stories, and be present when things fall apart for clients. The staff members are a family. They pray together, know each others’ lives, know each others’ kids, experience ups and downs of the ministry together…

But more thinking led me to realize the other side of this—the sacrifice that the staff and volunteers make at Mirembe House is incredible. Their WHOLE lives are Mirembe House. They don’t really get to leave one day and forget what has happened. Their lives are wrapped up in what’s going on there- they understand that Mirembe House may demand more of their time, more of their wallets, more of their energy than another job would. It may even demand more hurt, more pain, and more confusion, more hopelessness.

The reason I think they stay is because the blessings are worth it. The joy they have from experiencing God’s community and God’s work in peoples’ lives is worth it. The way they are able to bring God’s love is so worth it.

The more I witness what goes on at Mirembe House, the more I realize that life can be so beautiful when we’re part of a community that focuses on love. Don’t get me wrong, Mirembe House has its drama… but overall, the girls know that they can’t replace each other. No one understands what they’re going through as well as the people around them. The staff knows that they can rely on each other—and that makes even the most hopeless situations more beautiful.

In one of my lessons the other day, we played a little game (some of you might recognize it… I kind of snagged it from my youth group days). I split the girls up into two teams—two “bodies” if you will. Each girl had a role- one was the ear and mouth, one was the feet, one was the eyes… They had to work together to kind of do an obstacle course-- one girl gave directions after getting instructions from me, one had a blindfold on, and was guided by the other girl who was directing her to do the different tasks. It was pretty hilarious to see them trying to figure everything out… some of them were just laughing super hard, others were ticked at each other for guiding them carelessly, etc. It kind of looked like chaos for a while, but after sitting down to talk about it, they were all able to laugh with each other about what was going on. We talked about being a body of Christ—and how we each have different gifts, and how we need each other to really survive. I realized how pertinent this was to them. They need each other to get through this rough point in life. Some of them are more willing to admit it, but they all need each other.

But I think it’s just as true for the rest of us.

One girl commented on how frightening it was for her to put on a blindfold and trust the girl in front of her. How true… to trust each other in community is so vulnerable. To put myself out there, and really open up to a community to figure out life, and love deeply is scary. We could be left alone, in the dark, or run into something along the way. But the joys far outweigh the sacrifice. The love and sense of belonging far outweighs the independence and “safety” of living outside of community.

So 3 more weeks, and I’m done with my internship. After that, finals will take place, and we’ll spend time in Rwanda before coming back home. It’s incredible how short 4 months is, but it’s incredible how much growth occurs in that time.

A volunteer from Mirembe has become a great friend to me, and said the other day:

“Mary, some people come and go, but I want you to know that you’ve been such a special person in my life. I won’t forget you.”

Melt my heart. Then this.

“You know, some people miss their friends so much… I will miss you, but then again I won’t. Even though you may be far away, you’re with me in spirit- and I’m with you. You’re my sister.”

WHAT a beautiful way to see the body of Christ. Mirembe House may not be part of my future, but it is in a small way. It’s shaped the way I see a lot of things, and it’s taught me so much about love, and care, and service. The people there have impacted my life in small ways and large ways. In a small way, they’ve become my family too. I’m thankful. 

Baby books and such...

So, the Internet on campus has not been working for the past week… I apologize for the lack of update after so many crazy stories about Rural Home stays. It feels good to be back on campus, and good to be back at Mirembe House. I’m over half way done with my internship, which blows my mind…

I feel as though I’ve just started. For a while last week, I felt as though I would leave this place with a sense of guilt that I haven’t done enough, or that I haven’t used my time wisely-- or that I should have worked harder at finding creative ways to encourage the girls, or should have spent more time finding things to teach them--that I should have poured more of myself into them, or taken more chances, etc… there were a whole bunch of those thoughts going through my mind. (If you read my first few blog posts, you’ll recognize this as my fear leaving, moving on, and not learning anything from the experience.) But, praise God-- He’s teaching me more beautiful things about how to love the people He loves.

I’ve been able to teach the girls how to make headbands, make baby books with them (including a photo shoot of them and their pregnant bellies so that those photos can go inside the baby book), and paint a few walls in Mirembe House with bible verses. Pictures below!

I’ve been able to practice individual counseling, and learn a little bit more about how to cook Ugandan style.

The week’s been great.

Also, I’ve been practicing taking initiative since I got back… it’s one of the areas that my supervisor suggested I grow in during my midterm evaluation. I was happy she mentioned it, because I’m often someone who relies so heavily on instruction, and being in the transition between the educational world and the professional world is a good time to practice taking initiative and stepping out on a limb when there’s not as much that I can mess up by making a mistake.

Anyways, while I was thinking about leaving, and trying to figure out ways to take initiative, and all that kind of stuff, I realized that I was trying to do this all on my own—that I was trying to focus on my own strength, and telling myself—I can do this! I’ve got this… etc. Hah. Yeah right.

Mirembe House began about 10 years ago with Prayer. They continue to pray and fast throughout their ministry; setting aside one day a month for a whole day of prayer and worship with the staff, and every Wednesday they spend more than an hour before lunch doing the same thing. They pray every morning and night with the girls, and I know they pray beyond those times. 

I got a metaphorical smack to the face after my midterm evaluation.. I found a great lesson on dependency when I was reading a homework assignment for the class I’m taking here. In the book, Compassion, by Henri Nouwen, prayer is explained like this:

“Without fully realizing it, we have accepted the idea that ‘doing things’ is more important than prayer and have come to think of prayer as something for times when there is nothing urgent to do. While we might agree verbally, or even intellectually, with someone who stresses the importance of prayer, we have become children of an impatient world to such an extent that our behavior often expresses the view that prayer is a waste of time.”

Oofta.  Then this.

“Prayer requires that we stand in God’s presence with open hands, naked and vulnerable, proclaiming to ourselves and to others that without God we can do nothing…as disciples, we find not some but all of our strength, hope, courage, and confidence in God. Therefore, prayer must be our first concern.”

One occurrence that I feel relates to this is in regards newest client at Mirembe House. We’ve gotten four new girls since I last updated, and the newest one has a heart-wrenching story. I sat in on the interviewing process, where the social worker there finds out about her background, and determines if the girl is a good fit for Mirembe House, etc… and let me tell you, this girl has gone through hell on earth.

I won’t include all the details… it could be a novel of its own, but essentially this girl was rejected by her family when she was 10, tried to live on her own for a while, and because of her kindness and faithfulness to Christ, she has been fired from several jobs (again, the details will make this too long, but trust me, that part alone had me in tears). She then stayed with some friends, who encouraged her to prostitute herself in order to earn money… she refused, but got in a sticky situation with a job she thought was just house work, leaving that job without knowledge of what she was going to do next, or how she was going to find money to feed herself. On the way back from that “job opportunity,” she got raped by three men on the side of the road, and got pregnant from that.

Her tears just kept coming the whole time she was explaining this. With literally nowhere to turn, another organization stepped in to simply stand beside her and love her. But they couldn’t provide housing or money for her, so they brought her here.

At one point in time, she confessed that she hated the baby right now. I mean, that sounds harsh, but from everything that happened, it made sense in a strange way. The social worker finished by explaining that although she’s been through something very difficult, God’s heart is breaking with her. God wants to stand beside her and bring her healing. And then she explained that Mirembe House would stand beside her too, doing all they could to help her towards a better situation.

There are no words to explain the amount of pain in that room.
I went on with the rest of the day and was able to help the other girls make baby books. I know that some of those girls have had similar experiences as what I just described to you, and so seeing them get excited, thinking about the baby’s first steps, first words, and all those other things reminded me just WHY I can’t do this on my own. The reason why God is the ultimate healer is because He brings hope that no one else can bring. He is the one that continually mends broken hearts, brings joy out of crappy situations, and provides hope to anyone and everyone. The stark difference between the pain that was expressed by this new client and the joy that was evident in the other girls made me just a little bit hopeful, that at some point in time, God might do a similar work in her. He can bring her to love this baby-- because God has a beautiful, wonderful plan for it.

This is Barbara with her newborn-- Patra Alliyah. :) It's from a few weeks ago, but the baby's doing GREAT, and so is the mom. Praise God.

The girls went AT this wall when they found out they could paint it... I thought I'd have to break up a few fights over positions. It now says, "Children are a gift from God..." (from somewhere in psalms)

More painting. They're quite concentrated on their work.

Baby books! :) 

In the process of making baby books.. I literally had to pull the paper and stickers out of their hands so that we could save some of the work for later..

So, I keep praying, and I remember that even if my time here is short, God’s called me to love outside of myself, because that’s all I can do at Mirembe House. What an honor.