His Story To Tell

   I didn't expect to be so drained, both physically and emotionally upon my return from Uganda. I've been dragging myself around since Thursday, willing myself to complete ordinary tasks that should be effortless. Sleep only comes in a short, five hour block at night and then a random hour or two during the day. I go to bed at 10 pm and wake up at 3am. I get teary-eyed over a load of unfolded laundry or too many dishes in the sink. I am missing so many new friends made in Uganda and yet I've never been so happy to be home.

   So much to unpack for all of you on my adventures in East Africa, from my visit with twelve year old Alex, my Compassion sponsored boy, to the long days spent with the children of the orphanage. This is going to take a while.

 I saw so much.

 Laughed loudly.

 Cried silently.

 Fell on my knees.

 Covered my eyes.

 Served in such a way that left me crawling away to find a moment of solitude.

Then running back so as to not miss a moment of privileged time. With children who have prayed in earnest for God to rescue them. To bless them. To stay with them.

May He give me a clear mind and humble heart to share it all with you in the next few weeks. Be sure to sign up for email notifications under "follow by email" at the top of this page. Because you might not want to miss this. It has nothing to do with me. Anyone could have gone and returned with the stories. But it is about His heart, His priority, His call to action. It's His story to tell. I just get to be the low budget reporter. Except somehow I am coming out a very rich girl. You will, too.