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.

Chikaste Yesu

 PRAISE the LORD.

So, this past week, I took a break from what has become routine to me in the last two months. It’s hard to believe that I’m half way through this beautiful experience, but reality hit as we drove away from campus; I will be driving away again in two short months, as I say goodbye to Uganda and come back home to a new season of life. SO quickly time can escape me—I like to think ahead. And although I’ve already learned so much from Ugandan culture about simply being present, God had more to teach me last week.

A little more background; every year around this time, the Uganda Studies Program drops off all the students (social work and other tracks) to different homes of a rural village in Uganda. The students all stay a full week, learning about a different culture, and experiencing rural life. Mukono, where the campus is, and Kampala are both fairly westernized in terms of culture, but most Ugandans staying in those places “go home to the village,” as they would say, every so often to visit the family and tribe they’ve left there.

Kapchurwa, the district that we went to last week, features Mt. Elgon right on the border of Kenya and Uganda. The village is called Sipi—also the name of the waterfall that comes down the mountain in three different spots. So essentially, I was living on the side of a mountain, surrounded by waterfalls for a week. I NEVER got used to the view from my backyard.

A new language, a new family, and a new culture. I still don’t know if I was excited or not—certainly, I was amazed to be in such a beautiful setting, but as we passed the grass huts and mud houses, I couldn’t have ever anticipated the challenges and joys I would face that week.

I am already starting to forget the first night; I’m forgetting the thanksgiving-size meal that I was welcomed with. I can barely remember the crowd of 40-some kids that followed my mother and I to the market—poking me whenever they got a chance to see what I felt like.

I’m forgetting my thoughts as I lay in my bed, next to my newfound sisters. They were squirmy enough not to fall asleep. I couldn’t talk to them, but communicated enough to play a game with them of steal-the-blanket-from-whoever’s-underneath-it-by-any-means-necessary. The scratchy voice of Fene, as she spoke to me through Elizabeth, my interpreter for the next few days, barely exists in my memory anymore.

I am already starting to forget the voice of my host Father, which once seemed impossible. I’m forgetting the annoyance that I had as he made a million incorrect statements about American culture.

“I think in America, you don’t farm…”

“I think in America, you don’t have mosquitos…”

“I think in America, you don’t have potatoes…”

“I think in America, families can’t have more than 2 children…”

“I thought white people didn’t have tears…”

“I thought in America, people built houses in the air…”

“I think in America, everyone has a job… no one is poor…”

I’ll NEVER forget the lesson it taught me about ignorance. As I lay in bed, venting to God (the only person who would listen… hah…), I realized that I probably could have made just as many ridiculous assumptions about Africa. My family laughed at me as I tried to split wood- as I tried to stir their staple food, failing because smoke got in my eyes- as I wore myself out walking… a short distance in their opinion. Who was I to judge this man’s life and knowledge? God started to open my eyes to the beauty found in simplicity, as I was forced to approach every new situation with humility.

I am already starting to forget the small playful voice of my 3 year old host sister, Tracy, who I swear God placed there just to get me through the week. The look on her face as she copied me, “how are you?” not knowing what on earth she had just said, the giggle she had as I threw her up in the air, and the way she melted my heart with her pudgy little tummy as she spoke to me in Kuksabiny, the local language. She was convinced I knew what she was saying. I might forget the way she counted in English, and the way she followed me around, and poured me tea any chance she had. I might forget all those things, but I’ll never forget the relief God gave me through the way she treated me like a regular old person; not a rich, unknowledgeable Mzungu.

What will never leave my mind is the fact that the 3^rd day with this family, my Father said to me, “Mary—Here is your land. Come back and build someday. Whenever the Lord leads you. I know He will lead you.” I have land. In Uganda. With coffee plants on it. What?

What I will never forget is the amount of kindness the family showed to me every day—the night before I left, My mom prepared chapatti for dinner because it’s my favorite, my Dad meanwhile was hard at work grinding coffee beans for a good two hours so I could take them home with me. The plan for the last day was to get up early and make cassava chips for me so that I wouldn’t go hungry after I left.

What I won’t forget is how quickly I became part of the family. I simply was accepted because I was there. I was loved because how else would they welcome a guest? The incredible hospitality they showed me while I was there reflects Christ in such a beautiful way.

There are a few things about Rural Home stays that I was relieved to leave. I was tired of feeling like an outsider, and tired of being misunderstood by the end of the week. But as I left this family that I would possibly never see again, I couldn’t help but consider for a moment the offer my host father gave me... “Mary… they will come for you, but you must stay here… we will dodge them as they come for you…”

There was something so beautiful about the simplicity they lived in. Yes, it was probably one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done in my life, and it brought up a million questions in my head about globalization and westernization (that’s a whole different conversation... ask me bout it sometime J). But other than the intense processing that went on in my head during the time I was there, it was refreshing to focus only on the necessities— farming, cooking, and being with each other. The kind of lifestyle they lived would be considered poverty in America, but they literally had everything they needed. They ate like kings and owned little, but enough clothing. The land they farmed was large enough to give me my own piece, and school fees were difficult, but God was providing. 

A classmate of mine said it succinctly when reflecting on the experience:

"If I were to give something... what would I give them? They have all that they need. Nothing I could give would really be useful to them."

As I get back into the routine of internship and school and a little bit of a busier Uganda, I thank God for the challenge that Rural Home stays brought, and the joys that I couldn’t have ever anticipated about rural life in Uganda. It challenged my perception of Africa, and my perception of myself. 

J ANYWAYS. Beyond this explanation, ask me more if you’d like more… see below for some pics to get a visual of my week in Sipi, Kapchurwa.

Some of the kids that followed me around all week :) On the far right is my little sister, Fene. What a face.

Haha. Camera love there on the far left.

And THIS, my friends, is a coffee plant :) To be specific, it's one on my land...

One of the many washing areas in the village.

Tracy and I cleaning the chicken that I slaughtered a few minutes earlier.

On Mt. Elgon... yep. God's pretty beautiful. 

LOOK at that smile. I miss it already.

This is my yard. The house on the left was a storage area for vegetables, etc. It will soon be turned into a home-- one of the nicer ones in the area.

Emmanuel being a crazy dude. Little brothers. Gotta love em. 

Coffee beans that my dad was drying... I would later pound my own coffee from these :) . 

And here's my backyard... that's my bathroom right there. 

And of course, the calf that my dad named after me... I didn't want to take pictures of the birth, but I had to document in some way, as this little guy is my namesake...

And, my family. From left to right, Michael (Dad), Brinik (14), Bauel (12), Fene (9), Emmanuel (7), Annette (Mom), Tracy (3)

He makes ALL things New

This week has been beautiful. Last weekend, another girl went in to have her baby. I went to visit them in the hospital, and the first thing this new mother did was to praise God—I asked her how she was doing, and her response was this:

“Good. I had to have an operation, but God gave me strength. I am so thankful because both me and my baby are healthy. In birth, this doesn’t always happen. Many times the mom walks away alone, or the baby is orphaned. But God watched over me.”

I started to tear up as I watched her and the baby. She asked me to give the baby a middle name, and I couldn’t believe she was serious at first. She thanked me for helping, even though I feel as though I’ve done close to nothing in helping her. As I came back to Mirembe House and celebrated a little bit with the other girls and staff, I thought about the beauty of the situation. This particular girl had come from a very dark past. Her mother died when she was young, and situations since have been against her. I could not believe the gratitude she has shown God even despite the still difficult circumstances in her life.

I’ve gotten to know the girls so much better, and now feel extremely comfortable around them. I already can’t even think about leaving; I start to feel a little helpless. But God’s doing work through Mirembe House, and I’m so glad to be a part of it.

As this week continued, I found myself wishing I could stay here for a year or so, just to really be able to dig into the lives of those here. Not every situation turns out beautifully; and I’ve seen some of those stories play out as well, but God has a knack for giving hope where there is none, as I’ve mentioned before.

Another girl that just blows me out of the water is the 15 year old there, who recently opened up to tell me that she was pregnant because her uncle, whom had taken her in as a child had raped her. She explained that her aunt would not believe her, and that she couldn’t go back afterwards, which is understandable. What was not understandable in my own eyes was the part of the conversation when she said, “But I told him, I forgave him.” She said it with the calmest demeanor you can imagine, no doubt hurting inside, but extremely sincere. She had an opportunity to send him to jail, but did not want to—because she forgave him.

Words cannot express how my heart felt in that moment. There’s no way I would have reacted as she has, but that’s Christ.

I realized that this is what I love about social work so much. God’s ability to take death in the spiritual, emotional, and physical sense, and turn it into life is just astounding. The literal metaphor sunk in a little bit this week—these girls are coming from a place of emotional and spiritual death, quite possibly. But God brings them life—literally, in the form of a child. This obviously doesn’t mean everything is easy, but it’s a beautiful reminder that He makes all things new.

Pray for:

-God’s Wisdom! As I continue to assist in teaching the girls about themselves, God, and the world around them.

-Strength

-Energy

This post will be short, and I won’t update for a while—as we’re doing Rural Home stays next week. I’ll be out of touch, but will hopefully have pictures to attach of both Mirembe House, and the experience we’re diving into now.

Thanks again for all the prayers—hope to see another update sometime in late February. J

Mary