How I almost didn't make it here...

Last Friday night I went into Nairobi with Eunice and Charles to board the bus that would take me to Uganda. Right when we approached the bus station, we heard gun shots a few blocks away. I was really nervous, but I was safe at the bus station. We then went to grab dinner, and I kept sneezing and Eunice laughed at me, but I didn’t understand why. Apparently, when riots start in the city, the police (who walk around with AK-47s) shoot off tear gas that affects everyone. Ha. I finally boarded the bus and sat next to a really nice lady, then went to sleep. I woke up every 25 minutes or so due to police road blocks. Finally we got to the boarder at about 5:30 am. I was staying illegally in Kenya on a transit visa that only lasts about a week, but I stayed 2 weeks. The officials kept questioning me, then they brought me to the back for more questioning. The first thing I did was try to make excuses about how it took a long time to get a cell phone. Then I tried to pay them off. Then I finally prayed. The man sat there staring at me for a few minutes, and all I could do was say, “God, God, please, cmon, please, I know you can!” The man finally looked up at me, visibly angry, and stamped my passport and handed it back. I don’t know what I would have done if I was stopped at the boarder, but it was definitely the work of God that I got through.
As we drove though Uganda at dawn, I could only think of the child soldiers in the North. It was very creepy in a way, and there was a fog that covered the bush. It made me so sad, and later I heard more stories of the tragedies that happened in Uganda.
James, the founder of the Ugandan orphanage, met me at the station in Kampala and we came to the orphanage. Uganda is beautiful (very hilly and tropical). My first few days here were really rough. I struggled a lot and missed my family. There are 11 children that stay here, and only 2 or 3 know any bit of English. When we sit around, everyone speaks Luganda and I feel so left out. There was one day that all I could do was excuse myself to my room and cry. That day I cried out to Jesus to be my best friend because I had no body else. I learned so much and God answered my cry. I realized that even if we don’t speak the same language, there is still the love of Christ that binds us. I have been playing soccer with a lot of the boys in a dirt field nearby, and it has been so much fun. The language barrier disappears. Also, there are times when me and the younger children just sit in the yard and make faces at each other and smile and laugh. They try to talk to me and I don’t understand a single word, but it doesn’t seem to matter anymore. There were many moments when I considered calling my parents and asking them to switch my flight because I just wanted to come home, but the more time I spent with the Lord the more I realized that I need to be here right now. These children don’t have parents, and they live in a society where children work all the time and there is a gap between adults and kids. They just need to be held and loved. How can we be Jesus’ hands if we don’t go to those he loves?
Six of the children are in primary (elementary) school, and total, it cost $86 for their fees, uniforms, and books. The last pair of soccer cleats I bought cost more than twice that.

Here’s something cool. A few months ago I was reading in my Bible and said to Beans, “I just wish I could memorize the whole thing!” She told me to write the verses on note cards and put them on our walls, so I did. I decided to take all the cards with me to Africa, not quite sure why. Yesterday I pulled out an envelope that has all the encouraging letters people wrote me, and the note cards were in there. The Scripture written on them was exactly what I needed. It was as if God had me write those verses down 2 months ago for that very moment yesterday. I was so amazed.

I have been trying to teach the children English, but I’m having a very hard time because they don’t know anything, and English is a ridiculously hard language.
Later in the week I am going to work in a school composed of street children and train them in soccer.
I have been eating very African food, and I am looking forward to 6 weeks from now when I can get a piece of pizza.
The electricity has been out and we just got it back 2 nights ago, then it rained very heavily yesterday and we lost it again. It’s been kind of fun without it. There are so many stars here and it just shouts of God’s glory.
I run very early in the morning because it isn’t hot. I die every time I run. The altitude, the hills, oh boy! Then, after I run, I end up walking at least 4 miles a day just getting around places. Hopefully I will be in stellar shape.
I’ve gotten really good at using a hole for a toilet. Really good. Except, I’m scared now because a few days ago I went to the hole (which is in a stall) and there was a snake staring at me. Last night there was the biggest beetle I’ve ever seen in my life in a different stall.
I am starting to learn the stories of the children that live in the orphanage. One, Mary Francis, is a small 4 year old girl who’s mother got pregnant when she was at University. The mother died one week after she graduated from AIDS and she passed on HIV/AIDS to Mary Francis. Now she is struggling with health problems. All of the children need sponsors, so let me know if you are interested.

So, that’s Africa. That’s my struggles. God is faithful and God is good. He is proving that the gospel requires risk and amounts of love that I don’t possess. He is enough though. He has given me more encouragement than I could ever imagine. I have reached some very low points, but he has never left my side.