What a Lovely Easter :)

Here in Uganda, Easter weekend is a big deal. And I don’t think it’s just because I’m in a Christian organization/community – I’m pretty sure I heard people talking about how there are many people who travel on this weekend.

Both the Institute class and the NHU admin office had Friday and today off. Last time we had a four-day weekend, I was blessed with the opportunity to go out to an island on Lake Victoria for a little vacation. Last month as I thought about the Easter break, I knew there were a couple other places I’d like to go visit…….but at the same time I just felt like I wanted to celebrate Easter here at Kasana, in the place that has become a new home and with the people who have taken me in as part of their family.

And boy am I glad I decided to stay – because this weekend (especially yesterday) has been such an amazing blessing.

Friday morning I did laundry and spent some time continuing the Bible study/reading I’ve been working my way through (fairly slowly, I must admit…) this year. I think I may have also spent some time reading either a devotional by C.S. Lewis or one by Anne Graham Lotz.

Mid-afternoon I headed over to the church for the Good Friday service there. Uncle Jonnes talked for a while about Jesus’ humility at not answering His accusers, and about how we should do likewise rather than allowing ourselves to be imprisoned by anger and bitterness. Then we watched the last 30 minutes or so of the Jesus Film, from Jesus’ time in Jericho (healing the blind man and discipling Zacchaeus) through His ascension.

I’ve watched the Jesus Film before….but not like this. Because there are many in the congregation who come from the surrounding area and may or may not speak English very well, we watched the Jesus Film in Lugandan. (For the same reason, Uncle Jonnes’ teaching and each week’s church service are translated into Lugandan by an interpreter. So there’s kind of two speakers every week J) Having seen the movie before, and being pretty familiar with the story, I was able to follow what was being said for the most part. But I certainly noticed things I might not have noticed otherwise (I might write more about those another time).

I also enjoyed hearing the people in the church with me interacting with the movie as we watched it. The laughter when Jesus bested the religious leaders trying to trap Him. The applause when Jesus reappeared alive. The murmurs of many repeating the prayer at the end. And then during dinner, the conversation with one of the couples about how all representations of Jesus look the same—how do we know what He looked like?

Saturday I must admit I didn’t spend my time as productively. I took advantage of a “second Saturday” by doing what I wanted to do – reading about cute animal stories and just amusing myself (choosing not to think, if you look at the etymology of “amusement”). I also enjoyed the fan thanks to the power being on most of the day!

After a trip to the market and some dinner, I heated water for a “shower,” thanks to power still being on! But then it went off, so I showered by star-light and lantern-light. My roomie had turned our banda into a nail salon again, with four ladies painting nails by candlelight. Before I joined in, I couldn’t help but go out and stare at the stars. That’s the best part about the power going out at night. The stars are so amazingly beautiful here, but when power is on it’s still harder to see them. So I had to take advantage of the darker sky thanks to moonless-ness and powerless-ness.

After we had finished decorating fingers and toes for Easter, we just chatted and/or sang worship songs (and danced to them some J). Of course then power came back on ;-)  Called my parents for a while and had a good chat, then fell asleep before 11.

Sunday morning the roomie was making pancakes for our Institute village breakfast, so I pitched in. They were so yummy. J Then she handed out some gifts to the families we live near, thanks to her church back home and her friend who came to visit. Seeing the joy of the children and the parents at receiving even “simple” gifts such as Bibles and dresses made my heart so happy. J

When we walked the short distance to the church at 10, I was surprised by how many people were already there! Usually the 10:00 start time finds the church only half full, and it slowly fills up. But for Easter, there were many more people there on time! And what a morning it was J I’ve never been to a more joyful Easter morning service.

Ugandans usually worship with more vocal/physical exuberance than my home church, and yesterday they were even more excited and celebrating even more loudly than normal. It was so fun to watch and to take part in. Uncle Jonnes was the preacher for the morning, and his message focused on the fact that Christ’s death has freed us from our bondage to sin! Always such a good reminder!

After a delicious Liberian lunch (preparation led by a Liberian here to go through the Institute) and some dinner prep work, I blogged for a while and enjoyed listening to the afternoon’s rain shower. Later in the evening I went over to my family group for dinner.

While we were waiting for it to be finished cooking, two of the Worcester sons and daughters taught me to play “Ludo” (I think?). It’s very similar to Sorry, but with a couple different rules. It was so fun laughing with them.

The daughter taking her turn to cook did an amazing job! The beef and rice tasted so great. J And even though it was a simple meal by most standards, it was special compared to their normal daily menu of posho and beans (I need to do a food post sometime….).

I am so thankful for my Worcester family – I felt so blessed to be included in their evening. The four girls and the parents have been so sweet and welcoming toward me whenever I have gone to visit. And the six young boys are fun to watch as they run around and play together.

Today they did not have school either – so I went over on the bright and early side to help them work in the garden. We spent a couple hours planting white sweet potato clippings in the furrowed mounds of dirt. My first row took me more than an hour, but the second row took less than an hour. I came back dirty and tired, but again blessed and thankful to have a family here who takes joy in having me involved even in simple daily things.

And that’s the story of my weekend and why I’m so glad I stayed here at “home” rather than travelling to some other place. I am so very blessed J

Thanking God.....

.....for sleeplessness since 2 a.m.? (it's 5:30 in the morning here as I write this) Yes, I actually am!

Why in the world??? It's simple: Although this is the third or fourth time I've faced a similarly sleepless night here, this time was different. {My ongoing digestive issues here are partly to blame for the sleeplessness...as is ongoing stress/uncertainty...and all of the above are, I think, magnified at least some by the medicine I've been taking for malaria prevention.....}

This time, I didn't spend the time (trying to go back to sleep) on worrying and fretting about my problems, and then tacking on a little begging prayer for God to make things go my way. That's pretty much what I've done before, and it hasn't solved anything. While I know God cares about what I'm going through, and He certainly tells us to come to Him with our requests, I can now recognize that my heart and attitude have been very selfish and ego-centric the past weeks and months. Even when I came here wanting to help others and serve God...

And He's been convicting me and calling me out on some things this past week. And yes, I'm facing uncertainty yet again....but maybe I'm finally learning to take more baby steps towards deeper faith. Thanks be to God, my response this time has been better than it often has in the past--and I've taken the confusion to God more quickly.

Because of His continued work in my heart (which I am so incredibly thankful for), this morning--when I woke up at 2 and had to scurry right over to the pit latrine a couple yards from my hut--I didn't put on a pity party like I did the other night this happened. Instead I thanked God for His goodness and asked Him to be glorified, even in this--even when it's not fun or easy. And I don't share this because I'm some great person to have done this. No, that was all God and not very much of me.

And as I lay tossing in bed the next two hours, failing to fall back asleep, I invested that time. I invested it in prayer. First in worshiping God and reorienting myself to find satisfaction in Him alone; and then in praying for the people in my "Institute family" (there's 20+ people going through the Institute here at New Hope right now), other people/situations here at Kasana, and my friends/family all around the world.

It was a sweet, sweet time. Yes, sleep would have been nice.... (I may still go try to catch a nap before breakfast...) But I was able to put into practice what God's been teaching & calling me to. And I'm thankful that He led me heart to Him during that time.

A Boy and His Music

Recently, I witnessed a moment in a story which has burned itself into my memory.

If I had gotten a picture of it, I would print it and hang it on my wall, and it would certainly be worth a thousand words.

If I were an artist and could draw or paint with any level of accuracy, I would spend hours perfecting the capture of that moment.

But I neither have a photograph of it nor the visual artistic skills to reproduce it. So instead I turn to the medium where I think I have slightly more talent: writing and words.

Picture this:

It’s a Sunday morning at Kasana Community Church, which means the simple wooden benches are full of people, arranged in rows throughout the open-air structure (a concrete slab with telephone pole-like pillars and a sheet metal roof).

The congregation is in the midst of the praise and worship part of the meeting, which typically lasts 30-45 minutes. The songs are sung in a mixture of Lugandan and English, since there are both non-native missionaries and non-English speaking members in the congregation. The “praise” songs are almost always accompanied by loud clapping, with occasional punctuations from an African-style “ayiyiyiyiyi!” or lyrically-appropriate motions such as spinning around or running in place. The “worship” songs are usually more low-key and reflective, as some people take their seats.

{That’s all just setting the scene J}

I was walking from the front of the church to my seat when I saw the image which burned into my brain. I don’t remember what song we were singing at that moment….it doesn’t make much of a difference though.

Sitting on the outside edge of the very front row was a little boy, probably about six years old. His dark face beamed as he joined in the praise music. He held a small guitar/ukulele, on which he strummed away. Clearly his whole heart and soul were pouring into participating fully in that moment.

It may be that he would have caught my attention if that were the only thing special about him. But it wasn’t. This little boy was sitting when the vast majority of the congregation was standing, because he was in a wheelchair. He is one of the children who is part of the special needs program provided by New Hope Uganda.

Behind the little boy’s wheelchair stood one of the gentlemen who helps care for these kids. He leaned on a crutch, his constant companion even when pushing one of the children in their chairs, because of what appears to be a shorter leg and turned-out foot on one side.

The young one’s entire countenance showed the joy of his heart. He could have been moping because he was stuck in a wheelchair, unable to walk or run as other children his age. I’m sure there are plenty of other reasons, even in his short life, which would excuse a good dose of self-pity. But that’s not where his focus was. His focus was—consciously or unconsciously—on worshipping God. I don’t know what that little boy’s story is, physically or spiritually. But I do know that he brought a smile to my face, praise to my mind, and conviction to my heart.

And that image has stayed with me in the days since. One afternoon since then, I was sitting “watching” members of the New Hope family playing football (soccer for you Americans) and making small talk introductions with the man sitting on the ground in front of me. One of my neighbor girls sat in my lap. Then beside me appeared the same little boy, angling himself into position and locking his chair’s wheel.

He greeted the little girl, because they are in the same class when he joins the kids at the on-site primary (elementary) school one day per week. He still had a grin on his face, not that much different than when I had seen him strumming his heart out in church.

Almost hidden behind the wheel of was a sticker, indicating that he had received his chair from Joni Eareckson Tada’s international ministry. On his feet were red felt slippers, decorated with whiskers. Those were cats, he told me. We talked for a little bit, and I learned his name. After a few moments, someone came and wheeled him away.

I think it was then I saw the crutch lying beside the man in front of me. As I had been talking to him, I had noticed nothing different or unusual. But as with the little boy, this gentleman faces daily challenges that are different than what I have to deal with. But I guess it’s a reminder of the fact that each and every one of us has parts of our lives which are hurt or not fully functional. Some of us can just hide it better than others.

But when we hide it, are we really doing anyone a service? When I try to act like there’s nothing wrong with me, that I have everything together, aren’t I really doing one of the silliest things possible? These two members of the Kasana community seem to have learned something far better than I have. They both deal with what the world calls “disabilities.” But, by what I have witnessed, I think it is safe to say that they have made the decision not to be bound by that.

My brief interactions with them make them heroes of the everyday variety, in my mind’s perception. They do not allow themselves to wallow in self-pity or to be held captive by their situations. They do not seem to see themselves as victims. Instead, they seek out the positives. They bring joy. And I pray God’s blessing on them for that.

{Last night I saw the little boy again. This time, he sat beside one of the caregivers on a bench, leaning against her for support, his wheelchair out of sight for the time being. The event was a concert by two of Kasana’s sons in the local town nearby. Again, my little friend demonstrated his love for music. His guitar remained at home – but that didn’t keep him from dancing with his upper body, his face again radiating joy. And so, I send this post out for him. Never let the music die out of your heart, little buddy. God is with you.}