What's Mine is Yours

  You gotta love this precious, African orphan, Anna as she insistently tries to share a tiny scrap of food with her friend and mattress mate, Marvin.  The little guy put out a valiant effort to accept her gift. I don't think he ever did get any of it into his hand, much less into his mouth.
    But it is a sweet exchange that reminds me of how God expects and applauds the same from us. To open our hand to the poor and needy, to those that have less than us, even if we might not have an abundance of wealth to fall back on for ourselves. 
   Compassion International and Love Mercy Uganda are two opportunities for you to live like Anna and share. 

You might want to click on full screen (bottom right corner) in order to see their little hands up close.

Dear Our Grand Mum and Father

I wanted to share this letter with my readers. It was written by two of the teen girls at the Good Samaritan Children's Home in Uganda where I lived for eleven days just a few, short weeks ago.

Edith and Rosette were chosen to stay with me in my very big, very clean, very empty room. I was prepared to sleep in a crowded, dirty, noisy room full of children. So when I was shown to my sleeping quarters, I asked,
 "No kids?"

 "All alone?"

 "Me?"

I was already speaking in short sentences to aid in communication. I learned quickly on that one.

They recognized my despair in the emptiness of the room, so they hustled out to the main living room and quickly tagged Edith and Rosette to be my roommates. I wasn't sure if they were pleased with this responsibility or wishing they would have picked someone else. They smiled politely, did a little bow and hustled over to my room with their mattress and one blanket between them.

The rest of the evening was filled with that incredible worship service I was swept away in and we fell into bed late, exhausted and with few words. '

I was awakened in the early morning by a low murmur of sound coming from somewhere in the room. I'm surprised I knew where I was. You know that feeling when you open your eyes and have no clue what planet you are on. Should have happened to me, being sleep deprived, in a different time zone with a bit of culture shock thrown in.

But I knew where I was and it slowly became apparent where the low rumble of sound was coming from. Edith and Rosette were dim silhouettes, kneeling on their mattress, talking to God in quiet yet earnest pleas. It was another jolt to my spirit. Last night's prayer service had left me humbled to the point of being invisible. Now I was witnessing two teenage girls welcoming the dawn with communication and fellowship with their God that was obviously a far cry from a boring ritual.

These girls were passionate in their prayers.
Another lump lodged in my throat.
Why did I wait so long to get over here?

But the letter.....let me share their letter. They wrote it while I was there. We had become fast friends in a matter of hours on my first full day there. I was showing them photos of my family and my dog and my parents. They seemed surprised that my parents were still living...ahem....and I told them how much they were loved by my mom and dad.....who love anyone who is loved by me. Edith and Rosette immediately set out to write my parents a letter, asking if they could have a piece of my notebook paper.

 And I just wanted to share the letter with you.

"Dear our Grand mum and father,

How are you and how is your country America's situation? Back to us we are okay because we are very happy to be with our mum Julie who has been putting us in good situation in our country. (I truly play a small role in their "good situation"...just so you know)

So before we thank God who has brought us our mum to us and rid her very well from America to Uganda, we are by names of Edith and Rosette from Uganda. We like America so much because it has mercy people who help the needy. We are orphans but mummy Julie has become our mum.

We are born again by religion and we pray hard so that even us we grow and become important people in our future. We love God so much because the Bible says that things which are impossible to the people are possible to God.

We love learning. We are in senior two class. We pray for you so much. We have our sisters and brothers they are greeting you.

So let us pray to God so that he may guard you well and keep your climate good. May the mighty God bless you very much.

From your beloved ones Edith and Rosette from Uganda."











 

A Boy and His Dream Come True

Before I begin to tell my stories from the ten days I spent with the children of the orphanage in Uganda, let me jump ahead to my visit with my Compassion sponsored boy, twelve year old Alex, who I had the privilege of meeting face to face on day eight of my trip.

The morning of the day I was to spend with him, I was incredibly nervous, excited, impatient......and sick. It hit me just before we left the orphanage compound to make our way over to the Compassion office in Kampala. I was surprised I hadn't gotten sick sooner in the week, with the number of children at the home who had fevers, runny noses and stomach pain, all of them touching me and coughing on me from morning till night.

But this had to be the worst possible day for me to get sick. I simply could not miss my scheduled day with Alex, knowing that he had traveled 9 hours the day before to reach Kampala from his tiny village in southern Uganda. I felt weak, nauseated and my head was spinning in directions I didn't know existed.

I had to lay down in the car on our way to the Compassion office and my orphanage hosts kept glancing back at me with worried looks. They were solely responsible for my well being during my stay there and at one point they were ready to take a detour for the city hospital.

After drinking some water and nibbling on yet another granola bar (my main source of food for ten days) I started to feel a bit better. What I now know is that in my nervousness and excitement to meet Alex, I had taken my morning malaria pill without enough water and this caused the meltdown of my insides that had me feeling too far away from home.

Arriving at the Compassion office, I wondered if Alex was already there. Many staff members came to welcome me and whisked me off to tour the facility and meet more friends. This was the mural on the wall that greeted me upon my arrival.

We shared hot tea and slices of bread with jam while they asked question after question about my family, Alex and my involvement with Compassion. Gratitude was the feeling expressed over and over again by the staff...for sponsoring one of their children, for making a lasting difference for one child, for advocating for more sponsors to join the effort to release children from poverty. They were sincere. And I expressed how I felt about it all. That it is a complete honor and privilege to have any part at all in the work being done through Compassion International.

This is too funny, and slightly embarrassing, but at one point during our tea-taking, a young man came straight up to me and said, "I'm Alex!" I immediately grabbed him in a bear hug, let him go, and then engulfed him in another one. He seemed surprised at my display of affection, but hugged me back, if not a little cautiously. I kept looking at him. It kinda looked like Alex, but a more mature and older version than what I had expected. Moments later I realized this was just a staff member named Alex being friendly and introducing himself. I'm such a nerd. I had to explain to him why I almost swept him off his feet and he was polite but kept his distance after that. Poor guy. Crazy American women....

A cell phone buzzed and I was told that Alex....the REAL Alex....had arrived, and they took my hand and practically ran me out to the parking lot. I do believe they were as excited as I was. Twelve year old Alex stepped out of the van and into my arms. I was well practiced by now and I went back and forth between hugging him and holding him at arm's length to get a good look at him. His smile took up half of his face and we immediately got back in the van to begin our day together.

Our first stop was the zoo in Entebbe, a forty minute drive from the Compassion office. We spent that time talking, looking at photos, and listening to my ipod. He turned out to be quite a shy young man, but obviously bright and supremely happy to be with me.

I gave my first of many gifts to him, a muti-tool/knife in a case which he seemed to love. After inspecting every inch of it, he slipped it into his pocket.

The zoo was a fantastic way to enjoy new sights and sounds while still being able to walk and talk together. Alex was fascinated with the animals, most of which he had only read about in school. He asked lots of questions and listened intently as the zookeepers educated us on the animals.

This was taken in front of a very small portion of Lake Victoria. The photo does not capture the beauty of it.

We had a great time laughing at the antics of the animals and learning at each new area more about the habits and personalities and diet of each one. We also learned that all of the animals in this zoo were rescued from different situations that threatened their well being.

Our next stop was the Entebbe airport, exactly where I had flown into a week before. Alex wanted to see the airplanes and his escorts and driver were excited about eating at the buffet the airport offered. I was too! After eating nothing but granola bars for the past week, I was more that ready for tons of choices to fill my plate with. Turns out, a buffet in Africa is not equal to a buffet in America. There were about FIVE choices.....rice, greens, beans, chunks of mystery meat and a flat bread. The guys all acted like we had hit the jackpot and they piled their plates to overflowing. I enjoyed watching Alex eat. It was probably more food he had ever had in one sitting.

On the ride back to meet my driver in Kampala, I pulled out the backpack I had brought full of gifts for him and another full bag of gifts for his parents and four siblings. I do believe the soccer ball received the biggest smiles!

Alex was also very interested in the album of photos I gave him which included pictures of my Compassion friends who helped make this visit possible. I explained how each one had donated money to enable me to bring him from his village all the way to Kampala and that he was loved not just by me but by all of the friends he saw in his book.

Saying goodbye was not easy. Alex was so much fun to be with and it felt like leaving my own son behind. I encouraged him to study hard, write more often and send me a photo of his entire family. (Might as well put in the requests while I can). His Compassion social worker and escort assured me that this would be accomplished. I loved how they treated Alex like the young man that he was and filled his mind with reams of information at the zoo and as we passed important landmarks in the city of his dreams. Thanks to all of you who helped give Alex the trip of a lifetime and so many memories and new experiences to share with his village and family.

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.

Some Small Way

My effort to raise 10x30 dollars to build tables and benches and to outfit the kids sleeping areas with new bedding turned into 10x80 dollars because of your generosity!

That's right.

You guys chipped in a total of 800 dollars for 43 children who are going to benefit greatly from your open hand towards them.



And believe me, they will know who you are.
Maybe not by name, but I am going to make sure these kids know that they have a whole family of friends who care about their future and that they are not invisible or forgotten. I expect to see some shy smiles while others may climb onto my shoulders or swing from the rafters. I know for sure that they will feel loved.

As I shop and organize and pack and plan for my flight to Uganda next Thursday, I am finding that I am already homesick. I can't shake the dread on just how alone I am going to be for this journey. I imagine this will be the fastest I will ever make new friends once I land in Entebbe and make my way over to the orphanage. I'm kind of a slow joiner to new groups and like to hang back on the fringes to scope out my options. I think Uganda is going to finally push that quirk of mine right off the map.

There will be no one to hide behind. Nobody to push ahead of me to "go first". And no talkative, outgoing team members to make all of the small talk. 43 sets of eyes will all be on me.
 I am hoping, praying and pleading that they see Jesus in some small way. I really want them to know that He is for them. That they never go a day without being watched and loved and interceded for by Him.

You are part of this journey because of your efforts to bless these children with your love and gifts and prayers. So maybe I am really not that alone after all. I'll pretend that you guys are there with me, hanging back to let me be the talkative, outgoing one. I think that will help. And who knows? Maybe I will come home with far more gifts than we are giving to them. I'll keep you posted.

Live LIke Drew

   Today I simply want to honor the life of twelve year old  Drew Goodman, who went to be with Jesus last week after a long and courageous battle with brain cancer. Ultimately, Drew won that battle, because there is no victory for death when you belong to Christ. There is only a change in residence. An epic upgrade to a life of wholeness, joy and intimate fellowship with God. Drew is home.

   Caleb and Drew were friends through their common bond of a cancer diagnosis. I imagine they never would have crossed paths without it. Nor would they have likely been friends without Special Love, an incredible organization founded thirty years ago to enrich and support the lives of children and their families who battle the beast. Through Special Love, our family has made some lasting friendships and a boatload of unique memories. Two gifts that will never be tagged for the yearly yard sale or rendered useless through overuse, rust or decay. We are blessed.

Caleb, Drew and Ale October 2010

Drew was one of those kids who stood out from day one. He was so incredibly friendly and endlessly generous with hugs and genuine, little boy affection. He surprised me. Most kids have reservations when it comes to strangers...and even friends. I don't think Drew ever met a stranger in his lifetime and friends were practically family.                                                        

 

I will never forget the last morning of the last weekend we spent with Drew and his family at a Special Love event. I was up early. The first one to make my way up the rain slicked steps and onto the camp porch where the coffee was set out     for desperadoes like me. I was alone for a good while, which is never a problem for someone who enjoys solitude. I like to get coffee in the mornings at camp for the perfect quietness and beauty of a rising dawn, but  also for the opportunity to meet someone new and make a new friend. I am not a total recluse.

That morning, Drew and his dad made their way to the porch, and after Dad poured, assembled and stirred his cup of coffee, he told Drew he was headed back to their room. Drew asked if he could stay.

I was sitting at one of the picnic tables and Drew shuffled over and sat down next to me. With Drew, there was no such thing as personal space. So when I say "next to me", you have to picture no empty air pockets of wasted space.

 He began with a bit of small talk...about 30 seconds worth, and then he started telling me details about his battle with cancer. I hadn't asked any questions. That was just Drew. No need to be concerned about making anyone uncomfortable......or wondering if they even want to hear what you have to say......or worried about taking up someone's time. He wrapped me up in a snuggly hug before he left me sitting there with my cold cup of coffee.

I realized immediately that I had been gifted with something not quite tangible. An intimate, almost holy moment, with a boy who seemed to live without reserve. Someone as close to being who God created them to be as I have ever known. The kind of person I have always wanted to be.                         

And something shifted for me after that morning. I didn't start living like Drew overnight. I am, after all, a slow learner. But I began to notice just how much of life I miss out on by playing it safe. Avoiding risks. Keeping to myself so as to preserve whatever I have craftily salvaged from some of life's painful experiences.  "Live like Drew" became a subtle yet constant refrain in the back row of my every day thoughts.

It was shortly after this encounter with Drew that I began to step out into the dreams God had set in my heart as a child. I had carried those dreams around for over thirty years, always imagining what it would be like to live them out in real time. Never believing they were ever really meant for me to claim.

But claim them, I did. And the dreams are still unfolding. Once I took that first harrowing step off the edge, the open doors and opportunities just kept falling at my feet.

 To live like Drew means that I will throw off my well rooted fears and just be who God intended for me to be all along.

 It's really, amazingly quite simple. But I am not sure I would have found my way without Drew to take the lead.

He left far more behind than just my own personal encounter with him. I am only one person amongst hundreds and hundreds of Drew's friends. I did not know him as well as most did. But he left his hand print on my heart and I will always be on the lookout for ways to honor his life and to LIVE LIKE DREW.

  

  

My Mistake

For those of you still in the dark....

Caleb had the cystoscopy (scoping of the bladder) done almost a week and a half ago to see if they could find a reason for the blood in his urine.

And what they saw was an irritated bladder, most likely a result of the (hateful but necessary) radiation he received in 2008. They did not see anything that needed biopsied, and this was very good news.

What leaves me hanging is the question of whether or not I asked all of the right questions and whether I can be satisfied with the answers I've been given. You know I did that when Caleb was four years old and he was peeing blood. The doctor said it was a "virus" and that there was no need to pursue any other cause. He was confident. He had been Caleb's pediatrician since birth. I remember he waltzed into my room at the hospital, strode over to baby Caleb who was bundled up in the bassinet and asked me how "she" was doing. Maybe that should have been my first clue.....

I took his word for it in 2008. That the toilet bowl full of blood was caused by a seldom seen virus. The fever and elevated blood pressure were no cause for alarm. I was relieved.  And that was my mistake.

Four months later Caleb was diagnosed with stage three kidney cancer.

So here I am again in the same situation.

This time Caleb's insides have been scrutinized. An ultrasound, CT, urinalysis,  blood work, scope of the  bladder....did we miss anything? One more question I should have asked? And was the urologist having a good day when he threaded that line into Caleb's bladder and peered at the screen? Was he in a rush? (He was two hours behind schedule when he took Caleb back to the operating room).

With an enemy like cancer, more time means more power. You can't wait around and hope that it goes away.

I also cannot live life seeing cancer behind every cough, moan and complaint that Caleb presents to me.

This is asking a lot, you do realize. I need to be alert. I am the only neurotic mother he's got. 

When they brought Caleb into recovery after the scoping procedure, the nurse assigned to monitor his vitals stood beside me as I waited for him to wake up. She was silent for a few minutes and then she asked me, in a quiet almost reverent voice, "How did you find the cancer when he was four? What clued you in that something was wrong?"

People ask me this all the time. And I always have to tell them that I missed it.

Completely.

I made a huge mistake in not asking more questions. And it could have very well cost Caleb his life.

So yes, the conclusion from all of the combined investigations concerning Caleb's bloody pee (I love saying that...makes me feel like I am an angry British person) is that everything looks fine(ish) and that for now we will just keep an eye on things (for the rest of his life).

Our lives are back to normal now......which is the new normal that took root after our original normal was  replaced by a way of living that will never be quite normal. We are used to it now and can hardly remember how normal of a family we used to be.