we carried them

Lately, our home has been trying to recover from Measles, Malaria, and just within the last couple days, runny noses and congestion. I’m longing for us all to be well again. I took a nap yesterday for the first time since I recovered from Malaria just 2 weeks ago. Even still, when Josiah woke up ready to eat at 6:15am, I was a little out of it. I untucked the mosquito net from in between our foam mattress and the wooden frame, and leaned over the side of the bed to gather everything I needed, which has been moved to the floor beside our bed so I don’t have to fight the rats that invade the kitchen in the middle of the night. We are blessed to have electricity now, when it’s on, but we don’t have it in our bedroom. So the light of the laptop is my only source. I opened the laptop and sat it on its side. I felt around for his bottle, which I’ve learned to go ahead and put 5 ounces of water in so that I can just add 2 ounces of hot as he whines. The child is impatient. Not sure who he got that from.

I found the flask and poured in 2 ounces but it was as if I hadn’t put any hot water in it. My brain was just tired. I checked and sure enough - 7 ounces. He drinks it all and not a bit more. What was wrong? Frustrated, I checked the time to see that it was about 3-4 hours past when he usually eats. No wonder the water wasn’t as hot as usual. I poured 2.5 ounces back in and filled it again. 7 ounces. It was too hot. I finally got the temperature right and it was time to add the formula, which usually goes just as planned. This morning was different. With all the adding/removing water, I’d left some around the rim of the bottle. The very first time I added a scoop, water got on it and formula stuck to it. Then it was too messy to get down into the bottle and some fell on me, on the bed, and all over the floor. Great, something to attract even more rats in through our window and under our bed. I was definitely wide awake then.

I finally got it just right and for some reason he was patient this morning. He just started to get rowdy as I scooped him up to feed him. He has so many brothers and sisters who want to hold his bottle for him that he never gets the chance to do it. Not sure when other babies start to do things on their own but he was missed so much and prayed for so often that when we got home from the States, everyone wanted to carry him and although I didn’t search the internet for when they do this or that, it seemed like forever before he started rolling over. Then almost immediately after, he started sitting on his own. A week ago he turned 7 months old and he not only started crawling that day, but he started walking on all 4s. It’s the funniest thing to watch. The next day he started pulling himself up on the sofa and he stands there for up to 10 mins each time. Without falling. So I let him hold his bottle. But I didn’t want to. My mind raced back to that first day in the hospital, when after a solid 24 hours of not breastfeeding, he drank some from a nursette bottle. I remember how I held the bottle, prayed over him, and shed some tears as I thought about how this day would soon be missed. It seems to have flown by. So he held his bottle and I cried again. But this time for a plethora of reasons. Holding him, in that moment, on my second Mother's Day but the first Mother's Day to a child doctors told me I'd never be able to conceive, over a year's worth of memories flashed through my mind.

I am learning so much about motherhood from both God blessing me as the mother of a biological child and as a mother to children through adoption. Adoption looks very different for us in contrast to people who come here and adopt internationally. Some of our children are too old to be legally adopted, so they would never have had the chance of being in a family through international adoption. I couldn’t imagine our lives without them, regardless of the fact that we will never have paperwork with our names and theirs on it. The only thing that makes us their parents is love.

Each thing that I experience with Josiah makes my heart wonder about each of our children. That day we went to the clinic because I was no longer getting out of the bed ready to hit the ground rolling at 7am, so we decided to check for malaria and take a pregnancy test. How did their mothers discover they were pregnant? The excitement far outweighed the anxiety in our hearts as the lab technician came out and said to me, “Malaria - negative, pregnancy - positive.” I remembered the overwhelming excitement that led George to pull 20,000 shillings (around $8-9 at the time) from his pocket and give to the technician for the news! Were they excited when they found out they were carrying a baby? Overwhelmed? Burdened? I thought back to the day I scooped up a spoonful of local food and the smell hit my nose and made my stomach turn. So we had a friend donate so that I could get some things that I could eat, but which were far more than we could have bought had we not had the help. I know it’s a fact that while carrying a child, some of the things you once liked are the same things you find unable to stomach, or even find repulsive. Did their mothers go through this also? If so, how did it play out when you eat the same thing every day because that’s all you have? As he grew inside of me and George made me drink juice or water, with the exception of drinking Sprite on special occasions during those first few months, I wondered what their mothers drank.

I struggled for months with dizziness and fatigue, having been completely thrown for a loop because of the heat. We were at the beginning of a dry season when we got pregnant and instead of it cooling off as we neared the rainy season, it got hotter and there were country-wide warnings that we would be experiencing a drought. We didn’t have electricity so I couldn’t keep my body cool. Their bodies were acclimated to the weather here but that didn’t keep me from wondering how their hormones played a part in how they felt those first couple months that were such a struggle for me. It was such a struggle that George put me on a flight back to the US. But not before we got an ultrasound at International Hospital Kampala. I honestly doubt if any of them were able to have one of those.

Although I was 7 months pregnant before my first doctor’s appointment, and even still I rarely took those prenatal vitamins they gave me, I wonder what, if any, prenatal care they received. A couple of the mothers of our children were alone during their pregnancies, and even if the fathers were around, it’s highly unlikely that they cared to feel the baby kick and/or be there for the women during this time. It’s just not culture here. As I felt Josiah kick for the first time, being 7900 miles away from George, I wondered about the mothers of our other children. Was this moment mixed with excitement and sadness that the ones that helped give them life were not around? For me, this was the one God created for me. The love of my life. My soul mate. My best friend. My heart. This would be different for each child of ours, knowing as much as their story as we do. I desperately missed our children back home. When George would call, it was so incredibly heartbreaking to hear their voices.

(Our family as we knew it, minus Linda & Arnie)

All of those middle of the night trips to the restroom because he was playing soccer with my bladder made me wonder what they did. I only imagined that most of them slept on the floor. It was difficult to not only be running on empty and deprived of sleep already, but to get up and find your way to the restroom without first wetting yourself. It is equally as difficult to have a running stomach and try to find a flashlight to go outside in the middle of the night and to squat over a hole in the ground. I went to the US when I was just entering my 2nd trimester but came home for 3 weeks when I was 6 months and I got to experience some of those hardships. We took in 2 more boys the day before we flew to the States and we all went to the pool the day George and I flew to the States. It was hard to soak up every moment with them knowing it would be months and months before I would be back. I smiled even though I wanted to cry and although I am thankful we had that time together, it gave me just enough time with them to feel the punch. And then everything just weighed even heavier on my heart times 2.

As I ate my Momma’s cornbread smothered in large lima beans, coupled with mashed potatoes and cole slaw and topped off with sweet tea, I felt guilty a lot of the times. I felt so far away from how things were supposed to play out with our pregnancy. I was supposed to be home. With our children. But for reasons I won’t go into in this blog post, He had me in the States. Some of the things at the end of our pregnancy were too painful to revisit but it made me feel even closer to the mothers of our other children. As if that wasn’t enough to break our hearts and test our faith, when George went home to check on our children and work on some things with our ministry one month before Josiah was born, he found that two of the little girls in our choir were very weak. After practice one day he took them home to find that their grandmother, who they’d lived with since they’d lost both their parents when the youngest was one year old, had fallen sick and was unable to provide for them. He took them in with the intentions of nourishing them back to health and returning them. We helped her get back on her feet but she was still unable to provide them with the care they needed. As the weeks went on, God made it clear to him that these were our girls. So our family grew by 2 and my heart broke because I longed to be home. I missed them terribly.

I really struggled those last few months with the extremes between what I was going through with our first biological child together (he has 2 from a previous marriage) and wondering what life was like for the mothers of the children that God had chosen to bless us with. As the time drew near for us to give birth, I knew more about “when” it would happen because of ultrasounds and dates. The mothers of our other children read their bodies and knew within a couple days of giving birth that they would. They didn’t keep up with dates and they certainly didn’t have access to ultrasounds to tell them. It still amazes me. I also had excellent medical care and family and friends who were ready and willing to do anything and everything to ensure those last few weeks were comfortable. Everyone went out of their way to provide us with things we would need when Josiah came home and most of his weight was gained by the good food we indulged ourselves on. Because, let’s face it, I was eating for him, not me. But how well were the mothers of our other children treated? Did they feel all alone or were they loved on by their family and friends? Culture here prevents the mother-in-law from being even remotely in the same area as the son-in-law so having support from both your mother and your husband at the same time is highly unlikely. I mean, they can support you from afar but it’s not the same as what I had. My mother and husband poured into my life during our pregnancy and they did it from the same room.

I was ready to give birth naturally and although I was past my due date, my mind never once entertained the fact that I might have to have a c-section. It just wasn’t part of “the plan”. I was admitted into the hospital on Oct. 5th for observation. My blood pressure had been high for the last couple days. Jennifer had gone with me and George was heading home from a meeting in Texas. Melinda rushed to Birmingham to pick him from the airport and after a short visit, I was alone in the hospital room. I won’t ever forget lying there as I watched the blood pressure machine and thanked God for the care I was receiving. Just as all the previous months, my mind wondered what those last few days were like for the mothers of our other children. The next morning, despite my blood pressure returning to normal, I was told by the doctor on call, that I needed to have a c-section. I was crushed. And although I knew my husband, my family and my friends-turned-family were just a phone call away, I was alone. Alone to deal with that much crushing news after this long, long journey. I wondered if they felt alone when things didn’t go as planned.

He was finally here and my insides threatened to explode with excitement. It was as if my heart was visible there on my chest. Swaddled in a blanket and in a little hospital hat, he was perfect. Created in His image in every way and He was about to teach me how to love deeper. And although the way we carried them was very different, we each sacrificed our bodies to do so. Each of our bodies nourished the children that now call me Momma. Their bodies carried the children who now sing “Baby Josiah” to the one my body carried. The love I have for our children has nothing to do with biology. They joke that I am Ugandan, however much my skin has not changed yet. And it’s funny to us. But the truth is that I can’t even pretend to look like them. We don’t share the same skin color, eyes or the same hair. Nothing about their personalities reflect me. And that’s OK. Those are things they got from their biological parents. The love we pour into them will build their character. It is my promise to God and to our family that I will raise them to reflect the love of our Savior because I will love them with everything I have. The way He loves us.

I wrote this blog post yesterday morning while the reflections of last year could still make their way from my head to my fingertips and onto this screen. However much we had power the entire day, we had no internet service so I couldn’t post it. If you are reading this, please know that I prayed for each of you yesterday. Maybe not by name but Jesus knows who you are. Every mother has a journey and we are in this together. Maybe you’re a mother who has just found out you are carrying a miracle. Maybe you’re a mother who has just found out that “the doctors” say there’s little chance that you’ll ever carry a baby. Maybe you’re a mother who carried her baby and he/she was delivered right into the arms of Jesus. Maybe you’re a new mother who is struggling to learn the ropes. Maybe you’re a mother to so many kids that you have to count them when they’re all in a room to see if all of them are there. Maybe you’re a mother who had to give her child to another family. Maybe you’re a mother who is waiting on your child through adoption. No matter where you are in your journey in motherhood, I pray that Jesus will meet you right there.

God is not done with her yet...

This sweet woman is the mother to 2 of our sponsored children. She went to Mulago 2 years ago to give birth and the baby died inside her as she awaited a bed. If you'd ever been in Mulago, you would understand how that could even happen. They had to cut her open to get the baby out and she passed away while on the operating table. But God was NOT done with her. Her story here in this broken world was NOT complete. She regained consciousness but not until AFTER they had stitched her up with staples that were just meant to hold her together until she could be buried. And because she had died on the table, they didn't fully complete the surgery.

For 2 years she's lived in pain. For 2 years she didn't have the means to get the treatment she needed. For 2 years she remained hopeless in her situation. For 2 years she didn't think anyone cared. 2 years. Can you imagine?

That 2 years of agony came to an end this past weekend when she showed up on our doorstep. She explained her situation to George and he told her that our free clinic (to the 1500 people we serve in our village) would be open the next morning and urged her to come see the doctor. She did and was told there was nothing he could do because the infection was too widespread, the organs were beginning to fail, and we just didn't have the means in our little make-shift clinic to handle such a case. He told her she would need to have another surgery and urged her to go into Kampala to seek treatment. I can't imagine what ran through her mind as she walked back home that day. She'd struggled so long. There were finally people that would help her but they lacked the resources needed to do so.

George was away from the village that day so he didn't really know the outcome of her doctor's visit. This morning he got up early because he had a meeting several hours away. As he began to leave, he once again found her on our doorstep. This time, she was in worse condition than she was before. I can't imagine this scene - she's there and is pretty much clinging to life and he is being hurried out the door so he can get on the road for what turned out to be a 13 hour journey. His pockets were empty. We live off of donation to donation, sale to sale. He didn't have the money to send her into Kampala, but he knew with all his heart that he might find her dead when he returned. With a heavy heart, he told her that he had to go but would seek help for her when he returned. I can't imagine what he must have felt pulling out of the village.

He had a long, exhausting day but however much it was draining, he never forgot about her. On his way home he received a phone call from the hospital that we have been taking some of the children to that need specialized tests and treatment. He couldn't imagine why they would be calling. He was tired and had another 100+ miles to go before he reached home. He picked the phone and was upset at what he heard on the other end of the line. It was the doctor that is in charge of the hospital. This mother had somehow gotten herself to them. She had gone in for treatment because she had heard of this place that has us on speed dial. She was fighting for her life and she knew that while George didn't have time to help at that very moment, that he would take care of her. She walked right into that hospital, told them she was from Bugabo Village, and they rushed her into what turned out to be a 4 hour surgery.

The doctor was calling to let George know that she had been in, the surgery was complete, she had been discharged, and they were needing payment. George was tired and given his schedule lately and the fact that we have zero funds available for emergencies, I can't imagine the wear and tear on him mentally. He was upset. Mad if he's completely honest. But as I sat on the phone with him, I heard his voice crack as these words came across his lips: "I felt defeated. I was mad. We have no money. But God didn't allow me to stay mad for long. We are all this woman has. If she looks to me for salvation, knowing that God is using me to get the care she needs, how can I be mad about that? I would have found her dead had she delayed in seeking treatment. Baby, God is using us and people are counting on us to help them. They know that's why we're here. The doctor called on his way from the clinic, so I don't know what the bill is, but I know He will provide. Baby, God is using us."

Tears rolled down my face and my throat closed up like it always does when we find ourselves sitting smack dab in the middle of His will. It was 11pm before he reached the village, so he couldn't check on her. He will do that first thing in the morning. He will also contact the doctor so that we can start asking for help from the body of Christ in paying her bill. Please be in prayer for this family as she heals. While we can't obviously know His story for her, I am amazed at what He's written so far. We have some amazing people among the ones we live with and serve, and it humbles me to the core that we get to share life with them. And I also praise Him that we can play a small role in each one's story. How He places us in the right place at the right time and intertwines our stories together is something we don't take lightly. We're just broken vessels ready to be filled by Him. She's just a mother who trusted Him enough to ask for help from the ones she knows He put there to help her.

It is my prayer that if you have $5, $10, or $20, that God would move your heart to be part of His story for her as well. This is His passion. May we all strive to show this broken world what the body of Christ was created for.

***UPDATE

This morning George went to check on who I now know is Jane. She is doing well and here are a few more pictures:

He also contacted the hospital to find that Jane's bill was $200. In addition to her surgery bill, we stepped out in faith and asked God to provide $100 that we can leave with her so that she can get the care she needs while he travels back here to the US. Wanna guess what God's response was to our request? That's right: PAID IN FULL! To the EXACT amount and not a penny more. Praise His name. PRAISE HIS NAME!!!

ekubo ministries necklace giveaway

At the beginning of June, just a couple days before I left to go back home, I received a package from Dawn Patterson, of Funky Fish Designs. I've never been a necklace girl. Or any jewelry for that matter. But this necklace? It was too much. I was moved beyond words. I pulled it from the package and right away I saw the word Ekubo. Oh, how we prayed and discussed a name for our ministry for what seemed like forever. Ekubo is Luganda for "The Way". Remember that my blog is titled "Compass In My Heart"? When I named it, I didn't know where He was gonna send me but I knew I was so open to His will for my life that I'd go wherever. Looks like He showed me "The Way", so that's where our ministry's name came from. As I continued to admire the necklace, I saw a compass and then a heart. Oh, sweet Dawn! She couldn't have created this necklace to mean more than it did. Although I was NOT a jewelry person, this necklace made me be one. It was one of the most meaningful gifts I've ever gotten.

At the end of June, I was back in Uganda and Dawn asked me to get on chat. I found her online and she rocked my world yet again. She had created 2 special pieces for our ministry that she wanted to donate in hopes that they'd be used for us to raise some much needed funds. These are exactly like mine but also include a pearl. Uganda is called "the pearl of Africa".

Ekubo Ministries is crazy excited to offer you a chance to win one of these very unique necklaces. Your donation of $5 puts you in the drawing and helps us continue our work being the hands and feet of Jesus to our village of approximately 1500 (with over half of those being children under the age of 12). We don't have partnerships with huge organizations. We don't have businesses that cut us a huge check every month that help us with the never-ending needs that we see on a daily basis. We just put ourselves on the alter every single day and trust that He will provide. And He does that through His body. YOU. The CHURCH. $5 here, $10 there, $25 from this one, $50 from that one, and together, we've made a HUGE impact on this village that was once plaqued with Witchcraft. If you follow us on Facebook, you've heard more stories than I can share on here, even if I committed to blogging daily through the end of this year. God is serious about our work for Him in Bugabo Village. And He's serious about bringing people alongside us to ensure His work doesn't stop. With that in mind, we humbly ask for you to give freely. Give generously. Give, knowing that you're making a difference. Give, fully aware of His blessings on and in your life.

How can YOU be entered to win one of these amazing necklaces?

Make a donation - 1 entry per every $5 donation

Share the link to our blog on FB (in addition to any donation amt) = 1 entry

Blog about this giveaway (in addition to any donation amt) = 3 entries

To make a donation, please click on "Donate Here" in the upper left-hand column of our blog. Once you've entered, post a comment below letting me know which "additional" way you've entered. If you just chose to make a donation, I will see that in Paypal so there's no need to comment. However, if you share the link on FB or write a blog post about it, PLEASE let me know so your additional entries are counted! The giveaway will run until Sunday, August 14th. We will randomly choose a winner and announce it on FB and here on our blog!

We can't thank you enough for the support you've already given to us and we are humbly praying that you will support us again through this giveaway. We can't wait to see how God uses this to bless His work in our village.

our love story - part 3

The drive to the airport was painful. I kept sunglasses on to hide the tears. I rode in the back with my head against the window most of the time. I didn’t even care if I about knocked my brains out as he hit pot hole after pot hole. I just wanted to be back in the village. With him. With the people that had stolen my heart. Anywhere but in that van. Anywhere. We left crazy early because the people I was with are those that like to be at the airport for a whole day before their flight leaves. Those kinds of people grate on my nerves, especially when I wanted to spend more time with George. We stopped along the way because even THEY could see that we were just way too early. We ate lunch on the shore of Lake Victoria and got to spend even more time together that left me wishing we hadn’t. It was just another memory that I would carry with me. I bet you’re thinking, “geez, did you or did you NOT want to spend more time with the man?” I’d be saying that, too. But I’m just weird like that.

When we got to the airport, I think I stopped breathing. I had luggage filled with things to carry back to sell. I had a promise from a man that I hardly knew that if I said yes, that he would be the husband I’d always prayed for. I had a ring in my carry on that I couldn’t look at. All I could cling to was that George told me to GO and sell everything I owned and come back to serve with him. Reminded me of Someone else I knew – Jesus.

As we entered the area where we had to go inside and where they could go no further, my heart got ripped right out of my chest. I couldn’t understand why I had to leave. I couldn’t understand why he couldn’t come with me. I couldn’t understand why we had to say “goodbye”. Crushed is an understatement. I watched him as he walked away, and he never looked back. That made me cry even more. I knew he was broken but I just wanted to see that smile one more time.

When I landed in Detroit, I quickly found that my cell phone service had been disconnected. Oh, the joys of forgetting to pay your bills while you’re in another country. I made my way to a pay phone and made a call to my sister. She said George had already contacted her to find out if I was home. She paid my bill online and the first call I got was from him. I won’t ever forget his first words to me from half a world away. He said, “Hello, Sweetheart.” I melted. Right there in the Detroit airport. We talked a little and then I found my way to the hotel there in the airport. I was broken. Nothing about America made me feel comfortable anymore. I was in some fancy hotel that I had mistakenly thought my ex-boyfriend had paid for (come to find out, I was the one that had to foot the bill). Everything was expensive. Even a glass of ice. Nothing on TV was worth watching. I felt trapped in luxury for 3 days and 2 nights. I looked at pictures from the trip. I laughed. I cried. I missed Uganda. I missed George. I missed everything about the last 3 weeks. I even missed the people I went with because if it weren’t for their constant whining, complaining, and gloating about what they were going to do to change Uganda, I wouldn’t have distanced myself which brought me closer to what He had meant for me to accomplish during my trip.

And remember the little blue box? Yeah, well, it was burning a hole in my bag. I wanted to look at it but every single time I'd go to unzip the side of my carry on, it was as if I could feel God's eyes peering down upon me. At one point, I was like, "Look, don't you have something else to be taking care of? Why do you ALWAYS have to be looking at me?" Bahahahaha. I'm not even joking. So I devised a plan. I would just work on him until he agreed to let me see it. So when he called again, I told him that eventually I'd say yes, so I saw no big deal in looking at the ring. He didn't budge. It was midnight in Uganda, so he went to bed but that ring wouldn't leave me alone. It was only mid-afternoon for me so I kept trying to work on my plan :) When I talked to him again, I was like, "here's the deal. Since I'm in NO position to say yes, can the ring just be a promise ring? Because I PROMISE that I will say yes one day, I just can't right now." I rattled on a little and he finally agreed. I froze. Then I was like, "HELLO. All that work! No, I gotta get over to that bag!!!" I unzipped it, pulled out the box, untied the bow and opened the box. I was blown away!

On top of the ring was a piece of paper folded into. It said, "Christie Marie Cotney, Marry Me en Come Home". As if my heart hadn't melted enough already, there it went again. Right there on the side of the bed in that fancy hotel room. And then I saw the ring. While I didn't care much for gold, the ring was PERFECT. I noticed ALL the details. The heart. The way the other details formed to make another heart. The bigger stone. The 3 smaller stones that made up some little flower shape. The way it wasn't a "typical" engagement ring. It. Was. Perfect. And the most perfect part was that it was from him. Oh, yeah, I was falling in love.

Stay tuned for the rest of our story...

our love story - part 2

The next day we awoke to news of the bombings. They’d happened shortly after we’d passed through Kampala the night before. The people I was with had left luggage at the airport and were afraid to pass back through Kampala on their way to Entebbe to get it. They hired someone to do it for them so we spent the day exploring the campus. No matter where we went or what we saw that day, my thoughts were with some guy named George. I wondered how his day was going. I wondered when I’d see him again. He was on my mind all day long. After we returned home, he came over. I was excited to see him.

The following days were spent carrying the other people here and there to meet Dan’s family and do whatever they wanted him to do. I was beginning to get frustrated because the trip seemed to be more about the girl I was with and meeting her fiancé’s family than ministering. I was head strong. I had come here to share the love of Christ, not hop from village to village meeting someone else’s parents. I also didn’t come here to hang out with her friends from America. It was just an awkward situation and I was SO worried about wasting my trip. I vented my frustration to George and that’s when I began to see more of his heart. He assured me that my trip would NOT be wasted and that although I was told we were coming for a much different reason, God would use me regardless. He told me that God was just preparing me for something bigger. Every time I got frustrated with what little we were doing for the people of Uganda versus what we were doing for self, I remembered his calming words.

We were supposed to spend a week in George’s village. Of course that changed because she had other things to do, like meet her American friends at the airport. These people had family here and I couldn’t for the life of me understand why we had to give up days in the village for them. Just seemed really selfish to me. I didn’t even want to go to the village. I knew once I did that my life would change. After all, campus life at UCU was far from “third world”. We had running water and power. And a toilet that flushed. I knew I’d leave my heart in a village that not only had no running water, power, or flushing toilets, but that didn’t even have clean drinking water. But I went. And I fell in love. I fell in love with the children. I fell in love with the parents/grandparents. I fell in love with the hopeless faces that I was sure God had brought me there to shine a light for. I fell in love with the environment. I fell in love with the way they live life there. I wasn’t quite in love with George yet, but boy did we have a strong friendship.

The day we left, I broke down. I excused myself into George’s Mom’s bedroom. She sent him in to comfort me. I don’t remember what all he said, but I got really strong, really quickly. I was more determined to not let those people ruin my trip. I didn’t care what all we had to do, as long as he was there with us. That day he let us know that no matter what we needed, he would be there to drive us. He'd taken time away from work, from school, and had even borrowed his brother-in-law's van. Looking back, I see that he just wanted to be there for me.

The next week, everyone went on a safari and I was supposed to work at an orphanage. George took me to Lugazi and we found the orphanage. I was NOT told that these children were in school all day and that there was little for me to do during that time. I was told that I could either sit there and watch TV or find something else to do until the children got home from school. We took one of the volunteers that was already there with us and went to Jinja for the day. When we returned, the children came home from school and started on chores. I got to visit with them for about 30 mins before it was dinner time. I took George to the side and after spending the day with another volunteer and seeing her frustration with having very little to do there, I decided that it wasn’t the best place for me to spend my week. We headed back to Mukono that night. We fixed dinner and watched a movie. Then I got out my iPhone and we listened to one of David Platt’s sermons. I explained to him that David was my home church pastor. We discussed the sermon and then listened to some worship music. I had a lot of songs by Tenth Avenue North, so we mostly listened to those. After the song “Beloved” was over, George kissed me. I was shocked. But I kissed him right back. It was a moment we won’t ever forget and one that we talk about often.

The next day was more like one of those “what were we thinking?” moments. I kept thinking - WHAT IN THE WORLD? This guy lives in another country. What if it's not God's will that I move back here? This is crazy that I'm in some foreign country kissing on a guy that may never be mine. The day was coming to an end, so when we returned to campus, we pulled into the driveway and sat out in the van like we always did, so we could talk privately. So we talked about it. Well, he talked about it and I closed off my ears to it. I just didn’t want to let my heart get involved with someone. Remember, I was DONE with men! Then I heard the words that made my heart race. The old "I have to tell you something." This isn't EXACTLY what you want to hear in a situation like this. You're there face-to-face. At someone's mercy. Some guy you don't really know. You are NOT exactly sure what's gonna follow that sentence. I think there was like a really long pause before I said "OK".

He fumbled around for a minute and then he was like, "Christie, I'm falling in love with you." I'm PRETTY sure my heart stopped. I was frozen for like 15 seconds. Then out of nowhere, I grab the handle on the door, jump out of the van and wind-sprint up to the house. Oh, I soooo wish I this on camera. He said I looked like a lightning bolt. I'm not exactly sure what happened but I did NOT want anything to do with him for the rest of the day! I went into my room and could see outside that he hadn't left yet. I kept wondering if he was going to come inside. A couple minutes later, he left. I felt bad. He was an awesome guy. Again, WHAT IN THE WORLD was I thinking? I couldn't get him off my mind. I wanted to be around him so badly but I didn't want all that "stuff". That pressure. That not wanting to get involved with someone again. So that night I called him. I asked if he was OK. He said he was. I imagined him thinking I was some kinda crazy girl. So I went out on a limb and asked him if he'd like to spend the day with me the next day. The next morning he came over and we never spoke of that little incident again.

I didn’t want to spend the next couple days doing nothing, so I asked if we could go to his village and work on the rain harvesting tank project. So we did. And sometime over the next few days there, I fell in love. But I didn’t tell him. The night before we left the village, he asked me to marry him. I thought he was losing his mind. What kind of guy meets a girl one night, spends time with her, kisses her, tells her he loves her, gets ran away from as if he's on fire, spends more time with her, and then asks her to marry him? We didn’t even know each other that well. Of course I said no. I mean, I was excited but I didn’t know why. And who cares about my excitement…WHAT WAS THIS GUY THINKING???

We were set to leave in just a few short days. I was beginning to fall apart. I was begging God to give me any reason to reschedule my flight. After all, I didn’t have a job. Well, I kinda did. I was caring for my niece. And that was enough reason to go home. I sure didn’t want to though. A couple days before we left, George asked me to go into Kampala with him. I had no idea what we were doing, but I went. On the way, he told me that he wanted to buy me a ring. I was certain he’d lost his mind. I wore myself OUT trying to talk him out of it. He was really hurt. So I went along with it, thinking that if God wanted him to buy me a ring, nothing would stop him. But something did. He went to withdraw money from his bank and his card wasn’t working. I was saved!!! Well, until he asked me to borrow money. SERIOUSLY? What kinda guy asks the girl to borrow money for her ring? Oh, man! We STILL laugh about that one!

He’d already had my card in his wallet from all the times he’d had to withdraw money for the tank project, so I told him he could go ahead and use it again. I was kinda afraid it wouldn’t work because his didn’t. I knew he had money because I’d been to the bank with him already. So I had butterflies as we stood at the ATM at the mall. It worked and the money came right out. So there we go into the mall. I can’t even describe to you what kind of place this was, but rest assured that I’d never step foot in there unless I was with him. My brain was screaming “HE’S GETTING RIPPED OFF” and even before we walked in the door, I begged him to not go in there. But he did. And he came out with a smile. And a little blue box. But I couldn’t open it. Until I said yes.

My time was coming to an end and my heart was breaking. Remember the unhealthy relationship I had just ended when I arrived? Well, I had a layover planned in Detroit (where the guy lived) because before I had left, we had planned to spend the weekend together. What is it about ending a relationship but wanting to still make one more attempt at it? Anyways, after talking to George more in depth about it, he begged me not to meet up with him there. It was a wonder I even remembered the guy’s name, huh? But I did. And I was supposed to meet him in Detroit. Although I shouldn’t have wanted to, I did. So I emailed him 2 nights before my flight left. And he didn’t respond. George told me that he’d prayed the whole time that if we were meant to be, that this guy wouldn’t show up at the airport. I told him that I hated to be the one to break it to him, but since I was from Alabama and this guy lived in Michigan, and we hadn’t seen each other in 9 months, there was NO way he wasn’t going to show up. I’d been with him for 3 years and well, there was just NO way.

He responded to my email. And it was shocking. He told me that something had come up and that he wouldn’t be able to spend the weekend with me. I was crushed but something came over me that night as I paced around the front yard talking to him. I let him know, matter-of-factly, that I had just met and was falling in love with someone. He seemed upset but knew when I left that my life was about to change. He gave me little hesitation and I knew then that it was over. I went back inside to tell George what had happened and he wasn’t at all shocked. He reminded me of his conversation with God. He KNEW that he wouldn’t show up. I was speechless. And I fell more in love with him as he told me about how God had called me there for far more than a 3 week trip. He even told me that he was certain I’d be moving back there. I asked him how he knew. He told me that God shows him things and, although he might have gotten mixed signals about our roles in each other’s lives in the future, that I would definitely be back serving alongside him in his village. He was certain about that much.

Stay tuned for part 3 of our story...

our love story - part 1

If I left it up to George to tell our story, it would be titled "she fell in love with the driver". He loves, loves, LOVES to tell it that way. And in all honesty, I love to hear his fun story of how we fell in love. He speaks with such passion. His voice gets higher and higher at the fun parts and he laughs and laughs when he describes the "independent girl that stepped off the plane" that night. Then he matter-of-factly reminds whomever he's telling that I left a changed woman. Broken without him. And he's right. Of course our stories are told from different viewpoints. He's a speaker, so his would be better told on video. I freeze when trying to share face-to-face with someone, so I'm better with writing. That's why we mesh so well :) So let me try to tell my side.

I had no idea who George William Magera was before I got to Uganda. All I was told was that we were visiting his village. I was told that he was the "leader", so I assumed that to be a leader in a dark place like that, he was an older guy. I hadn't seen any pictures of him, nor had I heard too much more about him other than "we'll be working in his village for a few days". I had gone on a trip with a girl and her parents. She had met George the year before and had promised to return to do a needs assessment on his village. While there, she had met a guy and although I didn’t know it at the time, most of the trip for her was to meet his family.

On the flight from Detroit to Amsterdam, I was soooo excited. I tried to burn up a little energy by watching as many movies as possible during that 8 hour flight. When we got to Amsterdam, I was "movied out". It was like 6am and although it was the beginning of a new day, I was tired. I got on the flight from Amsterdam to Entebbe and all I wanted to do was sleep. I was just going with the flow, so I didn't even try to figure out what time it would be when we arrived, so I didn't know if I should try to stay awake longer or sleep. Something hit me when we got on the flight and it was as if I got my "second wind". Tried to watch another movie but it wasn't happening. Found a cool option on the media system thingy that allows you to create a playlist from some of your favorite songs. I created one with a crazy mixture that included a little of everything. One particular song was Michael Buble's "Haven't Met You Yet". No particular reason, I just liked the beat. I fell asleep eventually but every time I woke up, that song was playing.

When we arrived at the airport in Entebbe, we were exhausted. I remember waiting in line FOREVER to get my visa and then even longer to get luggage. As we made our way through the doors, I greeted her boyfriend, then their friend Grace, and when I made it to George, I honestly didn’t even know who he was. He was young. Like, really young. Remember, I had thought that for him to be a leader, he was much older. When I was introduced to him, I was honestly shocked that it was that same guy. He and I both recall me hugging him much tighter and far longer than I had hugged the rest. To this day I remember that so vividly. We made our way to Grace’s van where we all held hands and prayed. I broke into tears. I was overwhelmed with God all at once. I was there. My feet were on Ugandan soil. The heat. The mosquitoes. The feeling of being RIGHT where He wanted me. It was a lot to take in. And seriously, those Ugandan prayers (they take like 15 mins and are SO heartfelt), well, I was just overcome with emotion. We were letting the guys figure out our luggage situation as we figured out seating arrangements in the van. I didn’t know at the time why I was so concerned with George, but I remember looking for him and not seeing him outside the window. It was very dark, as our flight arrived after 9pm. I asked where he was and was told that our luggage didn’t fit and he had driven separately and was gone a few rows away to get it. Something in me blurted out, “I’ll ride with him.” I jumped out and ran to the driver’s side (they drive on the right-hand side). He laughed and pointed me to the other side.

***What I found out later was that he had intended on coming to the airport to pick us but had spent the day in Kampala and called Dan to tell him that he’d just see us in Mukono. He’d been working with an organization and due to the red tape that they sometimes have or create, he was VERY discouraged and was trying to keep his distance from more white people and their “wanting to change Uganda” stance that almost everyone arrives at the airport with. He’d heard it all before, so he was just tired of it. At the last minute, though, Dan called and said he was stranded with no money and needed George to pick him and take him to the airport because he wasn’t sure the other guy (Grace) was going to show up. George didn’t really care, but God moved him to GO.

So here we are, riding together. Neither one of us knows any more than the other’s names. I’m sitting on the wrong side of the truck, in an unfamiliar land, with someone I don’t know and although it feels weird, I feel safe. When I tell you that there aren’t any street lights, I’m not EVEN exaggerating. It was dark, and all I could see were the faint tail lights of the van in front of us that carried the people I came with. I know now that it was a 2 hr drive, which was made a little shorter by the fact that it was late at night so the traffic wasn’t as bad. As I mentioned earlier, I was strong when I arrived. I had already put myself on the alter and asked God not to let me see anything my heart hadn’t already felt. What I meant by that was to keep me strong while I was there, and not to let my eyes see anything too disturbing that would sidetrack my trip. My heart was already head over heels for this country that I could only see bits and pieces of depending on the lighting along the way. There was never a silent moment in that truck. If you know me, you know that’s virtually impossible but something about this guy made me open up like a book.

We talked about me – How I had just accepted Christ in Jan and God had pointed me to Uganda. How I had already told the guy that gave me the visa that I would be moving here next time. How I had just ended a VERY unhealthy relationship. How I was done with men. Done. Like, I just wanted to go it alone. I felt that was a better choice for me, seeing as I wanted to move to a foreign country, take in vulnerable children and minister to everyone along the way. No man. After all, I didn’t NEED a man. Yeah, we STILL laugh about that one.

We talked about him – How he accepted Christ when he was 12 and wanted so badly to go to a Pastor’s Conference shortly afterwards that he offered to accompany the men on the trip to press their suits and shine their shoes. How during that trip one of the pastors fell sick and HE was asked to preach. How God put the words in his mouth to preach, how the congregation roared and when he finished there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. How badly he wanted to succeed with his work in the village but the support just wasn’t there.

When we reached home (a house we were staying in Mukono at Uganda Christian University), he helped us unpack our things and hung out for a little bit but then went to his house he shared with his brother on their family’s compound. The other guys slept on sofas in the living room. I desperately wanted him to stay so we could talk as long as we wanted, but he left. He, along with a few friends, still remember my status update from that night. I said that I felt I had just met my soul mate. And I didn’t mean that as in a relationship. I meant it in terms of friendship. I went to bed that night thinking about him and his children. I wasn’t sure why he was on my mind so much, but there was definitely a connection.

I started this blog post WEEKS ago. My sister even created a sweet video to put at the end. I was hours and hours into it when I realized this wasn't going to be a quick one. Actually, I had written 8 pages full in a Word document and hadn't even gotten home from my first 3 weeks in Uganda. George was excited to read it, so he kept asking me. When I told him about the 8 pages, he offered to help me "reduce" the story. I tweaked it a little bit, since I tend to be TOO detail-oriented, but I know that some day our children will read this and I want them to read my heart. So "our love story" will be in parts :) Stay tuned for the rest of it...

win a signed copy (or 3) of "Radical Together"

What's my favorite number? Surely y'all know by now. If not, it's 3. I will be giving away 3, yes I said THREE copies of Radical Together that I got Pastor David to sign last Sunday. You can read the first chapter of the book here.

The fundraiser will run from through Mother's Day, May 8th. On the night of May 8th, I will draw 3 winners. It is possible for you to win 2 copies, or God can get crazy and have that bless you with all 3 copies. These would be perfect for gifts. The time I gave away copies of Radical, some of the winners used them to raise funds for their adoptions :)

As you all know, I serve Him in Uganda. I got there in December and oh. my. goodness. has He done some pretty incredible things since then. I realize that I haven't kept my blog current but life is just so crazy right now that it makes it hard to do so. I am in the States until the end of May so I will try to update you as my heart will allow. I am missing my family terribly and wow, do you guys that aren't following our journey even know about the changes in our lives as of late? WOW! It just hit me how much I have to update. Like, you won't even believe it. OK, so back to the fundraiser. I have been here for 2 weeks and was so excited for Secret Church last Friday. I went ahead and stayed the weekend with Melinda so I could worship Him with my faith family at The Church of Brook Hills on Sunday.

I bought 3 books before Easter Service and went to stand in line to talk to David and get him to sign them. And just like last time, I stood there with my heart beating out of my chest. I had missed this guy terribly. God had used him in a mighty way for His purpose in my life. I wanted to open up and tell him what all had happened in the village. But I only had about 5 minutes. I didn't even think about WHAT to say because it wouldn't have mattered anyways. I would have forgotten it as soon as I started speaking. The last time I stood there with him getting him to sign books for me, I had no clue where I was going. God just told me to prepare to GO. No direction. No plan. Just GO. But here I was with direction. With a plan. With a whole life started in just a matter of months. I had one of those out-of-body experiences for what seemed like 5 minutes. And that's a long time when he could be available at any minute :)

All of a sudden, the person that was speaking with him was finished. I'd already told Melinda to get the iPhone ready to snap a pic. Something told me that she'd snag a good one. Annnnd she did. Here's our convo:

Me: OK, I have more books for you to sign. I'm doing a fundraiser to raise funds for our village, which by the way I DID move to. We built a school and found sponsors for 250 of the children in the village!

David: WOW! You were just here with me a year ago! You did ALL of that in ONE YEAR?

Me: Actually in 4 months.

David: Mouth hanging open. . . . Well, you can see the look on his face!

I left out the other details that I told him because if you're not following our journey on FB, you don't know yet. And now I realize that his facial expressions aren't THAT amazing because you don't know what all I told him. Oh, well. You'll find out soon enough :)

All funds received will be applied to our "Faith List".

How can YOU be entered to win a copy (or all 3) of the book?

Make a donation - $10 = 1 entry or $25 = 3 entries

Share the link to our blog on FB (in addition to any donation amt) = 1 entry

Blog about this fundraiser (in addition to any donation amt) = 3 entries

Once you've entered, post a comment below letting me know which "additional" way you've entered. If you just chose to make a donation, I will see that in Paypal so there's no need to comment. However, if you share the link on FB or write a blog post about it, PLEASE let me know so your additional entry is counted!

We can't thank you enough for the support you've already given to us and we are humbly praying that you will support us again through this fundraiser. We can't wait to see how God uses this to bless our Faith List.

childlike faith

George has faith like no one else I've ever met. And it's so pure. I like to think that I have that kind of faith. I mean, I'm here because of faith. I walk it every single day here in this village. No church is supporting me. No big time organization is backing me. I am literally living off less than $3/day because every donation that comes in, aside from the one specifically given to sustain me personally, is gone to the next project in the works. Even if the note says "I believe in the work you're doing, so use this however you wish. I just want to be a part of it." And even if the note says, "take this and do something for yourself." Because the truth is, I am doing something for myself. I am serving others. The work I do He does here is my life now. So I like to think that I'm walking in faith on a daily basis. Compared to George, I have a little work to do in that area. He has childlike faith. The kind that Jesus smiles about.

To say that the water in our village has been scarce might be the BIGGEST understatement of the year. Several days it was so low that we had to skip showers. And what I mean by the word shower is that you get about 2-3 gallons of water in a basin. The other days the source was too dried up to get jerry cans submerged enough to fill. On top of that, the weather here has been unforgiving. Heat. Humidity. Weakness. Dizziness. We have a fan but that would mean the power has to be on, which it has been . . . during the night. Who needs power then? We even broke down and put a ceiling in George's Mom's house using the leftover particle board type ceiling pieces we had from the buildings at the school. It cooled it off a little but to say that it worked miracles would be a stretch. Of course I suffered the most. Being from Alabama is not like being from Chicago and coming here but the heat has definitely taken its toll.

We hit rock bottom on Wednesday. Another trip to Kampala to get materials for the school left us drained when we got back home. Another day with no water. A day that I caved and actually bought water, although I have absolutely zero funds left over from my monthly sponsorship money that sustains me personally. But I didn't drink it like I should have. I sipped. Why should I get to drink water when no one else in the village had clean water to drink? Because I have money? That just doesn't seem fair, does it? And yes, I get the whole "take care of yourself or you can't help them" but something about that just seems too selfish for me sometimes. So I paid the price that day. I got a "running stomach". I'm sure you can figure out what that means. Numerous trips to the squatty potty and no water to replace what I was losing. I thought about the other people in the village that are experiencing this. No matter how many times they have a "running stomach" from the foods they eat and because they don't use proper hygiene, when you don't have the water needed to return the fluids, dehydration sets in.

It had been 20 days since I first posted pictures on Facebook from one of our last "good days" at the water source. And Lacy had been raising money on her blog long before that specifically for the borehole. I know God's timing is perfect but I was afraid that somehow I had messed with that a little bit. I lay in bed letting my mind spin about how we chose to raise money for desks instead of for water. How I asked God to find sponsors for children, knowing we needed water first. I mean, how can you educate a dehydrated child? I was so mad at myself for possibly missing this one. So I started to pray. "Lord, this isn't a child's education we're talking about. This isn't monthly support for me so that I can eat. This isn't a bed for someone to sleep comfortably in. And as horrible as this is, it's not helping Charles as He lies in that filthy ward in the government hospital. This is water. I remember when I was in like 3rd grade and we learned the 3 basic needs: food, clothing & shelter. Seriously, those are NEEDS? You can live without food. This is so much more. We NEED water." And I just lay there. Not wanting to go hang out in the pit latrine because I know what a "running stomach" results in - water that leaves the body. And I know what I felt guilty replacing it with - water that no one else has in this village. I fought it all day long. Trying to put myself in the shoes of the people I'm here to serve almost took me out.

I didn't have the faith that George has. I just couldn't find it anywhere. Just Wednesday he had someone come and survey the land for the borehole. He had promised me that once we hit $2000 in donations, we would start drilling. That's all good but I shrugged it off because I like to have the money in my hands before I make plans. To me, it's not about faith, it's about having someone do work that won't be paid. But George? That guy has a direct line straight to God. He exudes faith. How many of you would call a borehole company without at least being a couple hundred dollars away from having it fully funded? I mean seriously. Would YOU call them when our little spreadsheet shows $1600 plus another $500 from the donations Lacy has received? Yes, George has childlike faith. The kind that feels the $9000 just around the corner when your spreadsheet shows $2100. The kind Jesus says we need to get into Heaven. The kind that we all should have.

Last night, after 2 days of prayer and fasting from Facebook, I logged in. I was physically weak but something about George's faith gave me a lift. I posted this: "I'm trusting God for a basic need - water. If you have clean water, it is my prayer tonight that you will use your voice (via FB, Twitter & blogs) to help me spread the word. Everyone of you has the potential to reach ONE HEART. Do something. Anything." We still needed $7500. And it was out there, I just needed some people to share a link to my "faith list" blog post so the people that God had already chosen to help us reach that goal could see it. Again, my job is just to put the need out there. It's His job to bring in who He wants to walk alongside you and use His funds to fulfill that need. An hour later, I received a message from a friend that I met on FB. A friend that joined my journey back before I even made my first trip here. I didn't even notice the title of her message. All I remember thinking before I opened it was, "oh, I miss hearing from her. She has been SUCH an encouragement to me over the last year." Had I been standing, I would have absolutely fainted when I read the following message:

Tomorrow I will send a check for $7500 so you can have clean water. It's almost all our savings, but God won't leave me alone about it. :) Actually, I asked my husband if we could donate our savings and he blew me away when he said yes. He's very very stressed about money right now and he's not really a believer (he doesn't quite have a relationship with God yet)... So i KNOW this is a God thing. Please send lots of pictures of the beautiful people drinking lots of clean water when it happens, and I'll show my husband and show him that God works through people like you and George and him (my husband) :) God bless your life and your work. We love you and your beautiful people and your beautiful Bugabo village!!

SERIOUSLY? I actually logged out of Facebook and back in just to make sure I wasn't seeing things. I mean, I was sick. I was dehydrated. I felt like the guy in the dessert that sees water but after taking a closer look (and walking for miles), he finds out it's just an illusion. I don't even remember writing this message, and bless her heart, I might have shared a little too much but here it is:

Oh, Sister! Can I just tell you that I have an extreme case of a running stomach right now and have been trying to hold it because we have very little water here and I know that if I go outside, I will need to take in more water. If I weren't sitting in the bed right now, I would faint. Now I absolutely HAVE to wake George! He had someone come yesterday to survey the land and they're coming back on Tuesday to see where to put the borehole. They were going to start on it on Saturday and we were going to give them 20%. We were then going to walk by faith. George blows me away with his child-like faith. I just can't believe this!

At this point, all I knew was that God had used her and her family to completely bless this village in a way that no one would be able to wrap their head around. It was SO BIG that I thought my "running stomach" wouldn't make it in time to wake up George to go be my security outside. SO BIG that when I woke him up enough to whisper in his ear "someone just emptied their savings and is funding the rest of the borehole" he said, "I don't think I'm awake. First hold on and let me try this again." SO BIG that I couldn't even breathe. SO BIG that it could only be from God. And then it happened. I got the response that would leave me sobbing. It's "the rest of the story" and God, Himself, had to have written this because no human could fathom this kind of love:

Christie, I'm so sorry you are sick! I hope now you can drink lots of water knowing that so much more is soon on its way!! I think George's faith is amazing and I'm inspired by it. Love to you and Bugabo. God bless you and George and all that you do. I can't wait to see pictures of the borehole! What a great story--for such a diverse group of people to come together from all over the world to give to such an important project.

What God is doing through you and through George gives me goosebumps. We are so blessed to be able to be a part of it. It's really an incredible opportunity to let God use us to help your village. We started saving money because I was planning to go to Kenya/Uganda in June/July of this year with a short term missions trip. It was to be a trip of the lifetime--I just wanted to get involved and to help somehow and I thought this was supposed to be how I started it all. My husband and I also decided at that time to have a third child, and instead of doing it the 'old fashioned way', I was able to convince him that we should adopt an orphan child from Africa. It seemed like everything was falling into place according to my plans... and what I didn't realize at the time was that they truly were "MY" plans (not God's plans, like I thought).

Completely unexpectedly and totally unplanned, I find out I'm pregnant and due the exact same week I would have been traveling to Africa. As excited as I am to be pregnant, I'm also, honestly devastated at the change in my plans. I can't figure out what this means? I made plans for this trip more than a year in advance and I'm now pregnant and will have the baby the EXACT same week? And, our adoption plans are now completely affected by the pregnancy too--they are on hold until at least 2012. I just couldn't figure out why God pulled this from me and WHAT was he trying to tell me?? To be honest, I was quite sad and confused.

So I pray. And what keeps popping up? You. Bugabo. Water. Every time I checked out facebook I would see the need for water. Clean water. All this week my son has been sick with a sore throat and he calls out in the middle of the night for water. This morning, he said to me in his little three year old voice, "I so thirsty mama, please can I have water?" and I thought of Bugabo. I thought, 'what if I had to say 'no' to him because I didn't have clean water to give him?' Suddenly, everything made sense. My plans to go to Africa--nixed. My plans to adopt-nixed. My plans to not get pregnant--nixed. WHY?? These were all MY PLANS, Not God's plans. I think, this whole time God speaks through you and this whole time he's been telling us that the needs are right in front of me and here's how we can help. Your comments on short-term missions. . . your pleading for water, for educating the children, . . . everything just started to make sense to me and our current situation. I wanted to ask my husband if we could donate our saved money to help provide clean water for your village, but never thought he would so freely say yes. But I just asked. And he just said yes. Just like that. Thank you GOD! Our God is an awesome God!!!!!

So, in the end, God had it all figured out. I wasn't meant to go on a short-term missions trip after all, and I don't think we were meant to adopt a child from Africa, I think instead we are just meant to help children in Africa. I think this whole time God was leading us to find you--YOU are the one on the ground, in this beautiful village in Africa. You are EXACTLY where you are supposed to be, doing exactly what you are supposed to be doing. You are his hands and his feet, and I just thank God that he let my compass point to Africa. Maybe not the way I planned/expected it to . . . but in the exact way that he wanted it to be.

And, by the way, the reason I knew you were golden and of God from the very start. . .the reason I KNEW you had the heart of the Lord was because you donated to my friend's adoption fund. At a time when you needed every last cent to help Bugabo, you gave to her. I just was blown away, inspired, and so humbled by that. You'll never know what that did. When some of my closest friends wouldn't even share the link for her adoption, you did. I was so humbled and God taught me so much through that.

I'm sorry that was so long. Thank you for taking the time to read it. I just really wanted to share with you how you and Bugabo were a part of God's plan for us all along. God bless you!!

And after reading through that message again to ensure that specific details were excluded to keep her anonymous, I am in tears all over again. This isn't a family I've ever met. But yet God has created His stories for us to include one another. When we first connected on Facebook last summer, neither one of us could have seen this coming. I get a lot of excuses from others that are also fundraising when I ask them to share my link. That's another post for another time, but I will just say that someone shared my link last summer and that is how God connected me to this family. He knew THEN what His plans were for both of us. It is living, breathing proof that He uses all means possible to connect us to one another. So I say again to all of you that think "there are so many needs out there that no one pays attention to the links I post" - DO NOT JUDGE THE HEARTS OF YOUR FRIENDS. Share the links. Be the voice for the things God loves. Finish the work Jesus started. He changed the world with just 12 guys. We can change the world with so many more. If just one person took responsibility for one poor, destitute person anywhere in this world and met them right where they are, in all their pain and in their filth and squalor, we could alleviate it. We have a voice and it needs to be heard. Both the speakers and the voiceless. The Gospel is meant to be shared, not saved for Sundays. Be encouraged, people!!!

So long, crappy water. The diseases you plagued this village
with are about to be replaced by clean, fresh water!
You know, Living Water. As in, Jesus.

Want to know how YOU can help with other items on our faith list? See the blog post below this one :)

faith list

I have but one job and that is to make the needs here known to you. God's job is to stir the hearts and bring His people to help. So George & I created, what George has termed our "Faith List" (we KNOW God will provide), and here are the things we will put on the alter:

Borehole - $9,000 FULLY FUNDED! PRAISE GOD!!!
4x4 Van - $12,000 FULLY FUNDED! PRAISE GOD!!!
School Kitchen - $2,000 A SWEET FRIEND IS FUNDING THIS!
Electricity (for entire school property) - $4,500
Teacher's Units (4) - $14,000
Refuge Units (2) - $10,000
Finishing our home - $2,000
Soccer Team - $500+
Village Doctor (sees patients every Saturday) - $300/month
Village Meds - $200/month
School Nurse - $100/month


I need YOU to help me spread the word. Right now, THIS is where we are getting our water:

WHAT is a borehole? It's a well that is drilled down
to the clean, fresh water and its water is never-ending.
Here's a video of me using one for the first time in
a village close to Mukono.

I can't imagine a Christian, a child of God, not feeling a tug in their heart to help us get clean water into this village.

my Christmas money, a bike accident, and time away

Almost a month without a shower (basin baths don't count) and having a constant line of people outside George's Mom's home made for some long, long days in the village. We just wanted to get away. Away from the pain. Away from the squalor. Away from the hopelessness we see on a daily basis. Just for 2 nights. Just to relax. 10 mins after asking for donations to do so, we had the $140 we needed to go to Vision for Africa. $35 per person, per night and THAT was all inclusive. It's 45 mins away from here. George visited a couple months ago and it is his dream for our village here. By staying there, we were also helping build another organization, so it was a no-brainer. Our last week of 2010 is detailed here, through my Facebook status updates :)

I started the week out by spilling water on the carpet.
Of course I immediately saw Africa. George? Not so much.
So I posted it on FB and everyone agreed. I win :)

Dec 27th – ‎$150 for Christmas. I daydreamed about what I would buy. But yesterday, everything changed. The guy George put in jail came to thank him for saving his life. He also wanted a job so that he could pay for the bike he destroyed & so he wouldn't have to go to prison for 14 years. I watched as his head hung the whole time. I thought about the shame he must feel. George even sent him out so he wouldn't cry in front of us. I thought about what Jesus would do, but moreso what He wanted ME to do. George took the owner of the bike into Kampala today to buy a new one. Happy Birthday, Jesus. I wouldn't have rather spent my Christmas money on anything else. Matthew 25 isn't just for the hungry and the sick. It's for the poor, too. You can't shape that verse to fit your ministry. I came here to serve as Jesus would, and He didn't just serve the cute kids. He served the drunk guy that was facing prison time because he was hopeless. I will never forget him crawling into this house and half-sitting on a chair (after we MADE him get out of the floor), nor will I forget how he had to look to the ceiling to keep the tears from rolling from his eyes. It reminded me of my visit with Charles, as I had to do the same thing. I am praising God that this guy, whose name I don't know, KNOWS that I am doing this on behalf of Jesus. And that makes my heart smile. I am still trying to get over what happened yesterday. My heart races just thinking about it. I am nervous for his court date tomorrow because the system here is corrupt. Praying that because I bought the bike, he won't go to prison. Please pray with me.


Dec 27th – REALLY needs to get away from the village. I can't get anything done. I haven't had a shower in a month. I want a REAL SHOWER, not one from a bucket. I want to wash my hair with clean water. I want a good night's sleep. This 3" foam mattress (and by foam I don't mean memory foam) is killing my back. Just two nights. I just want two nights. The next $75 in jewelry sales is going toward a vacation :)

Dec 28th – It's 66 degrees here and George has on a sweater. I'm not joking.

Dec 28th – was told we were needed outside to treat someone that had a bike accident in front of the house. We got cotton, cleanser and ointment and rushed out there thinking he/she was a child. We found a grown man (my age) with serious wounds. We took him to the clinic in Bombo where they gave him stitches, a shot and tabs. We found it raining when we left so George got in the middle and let me drive home. You should have seen the guy's face when he realized I was driving!!! HILARIOUS!!! I imagined him thinking, "I thought this girl was trying to help me. She's trying to kill me!!!" We took the "bumpy way home" and George finally got out and got in the back. I kinda went a little fast to make him pay for all the times he puts people in the back and forgets about them as he goes fast. It bothers me a little that George said the people think I'm a little crazy for taking him to the clinic when they've seen worse wounds than that. The man needed stitches. There's nothing "crazy" about that. I'm pretty sure Jesus would have done the same thing. Do YOU think He would have turned someone away because his wounds weren't the worst the people around him had seen?

** PRAISE GOD! I went out to find that the guy wasn't outside. I asked George where he went. He said, "He has gone to the church for prayers. I think he has had a change of heart." I am soooo blessed to be living such an awesome life for Him. I truly feel like His hands and feet today.

This is an updated pic of him. His face is healing nicely!

Dec 28th – just got a visit from the guy that I gave my Christmas money to keep him out of jail and he has been cleared of all charges. Praising God for the heart He gave me. A heart that doesn't pick and choose which Scripture to apply to my life because it's the "easy part". There's nothing easy about Matthew 25. I want to encourage you to do something today for someone without wanting anything in return.

Dec 29th – should be packing for "vacation". First thing I'm doing when I get there? SHOWER! George has forbidden me from taking the laptop but I'm thinking about slipping it in the bottom of my bag. Shhhh, don't tell him. Excited to see what God is up to as we have time to just relax and talk about our plans...scratch that...God's plans for the village through us.

Dec 29th – feels like a kid sneaking to get online. 3 hilarious things from today - 1) took the forever long dirt road here & stopped to pick about 4 people when they yelled to the ones behind them & so on. Next thing we know there are 25+ back there, 2) saw a chicken & a goat fight AND have it on video, 3) took a 15 min shower & as soon as George got in, the power went off. You should've heard him scream. Bahaha! Night!

Some of the pics from our 2 days at Vision for Africa

Dec 30th – Me: Do you smell that? It smells like something's burning. George: I don't hear anything.

Dec 31st – ‎"This is the deepest meaning of hospitality - to give each other rest on the way to our eternal home." - Romano Guardini . . . it was good to get away but so good to be home. How many people do you know that have NO check-out time but leave at 11am to get back home? Yeah, we're weird.