life lesson #234

I just remembered this is a good lesson I learned the other day. So...I was trying to drive to Tororo to meet with a couple (ugandan wife and kenyan husband) who are passionate about missions and business. Tororo is about 95miles away from Soroti, so hypothetically, if one was driving at 70mph on a good road it would take just over an hour and a half to get there. But because of the state of the road it takes at least two hours just to get to mbale which is only around 65 miles away, then you have the other 30 miles beyond that. So, I had started the journey early knowing I wanted to spend as much time with these people as possible that day. I left soroti by 6:45am and after driving for around 40 minutes, the oil light started coming on so I stopped and called the mechanic (i had just picked the car up from him the day before!) and he suggested I come back and not continue on my journey. So i brought him the car and he dropped me on the side of the road at the far end of town to wait for public transport.

There are three main options for public transport from soroti to mbale and tororo. One is a taxi, aka a matatu, aka a van licensed to carry 14 passengers but usually pack in at least 20, aka death trap. Two, a bus, aka big bull in a china shop, doesn't seem necessary to slow down for any bumps, and doesn't mind running people off the road cuz they're bigger than every one else. Three, the back of an overloaded truck, not really an option for me, i've seen too many of them broken down on the side of the road, or rolled over in the ditch...Anyway, I met a man along the road who said he was a broker, whatever that means, and he informed me there was a bus coming soon that was going through Tororo to kampala and that would be my best option for getting there. I knew of this bus, called Post Bus, i'd often wondered at it's bright red paint and the newness look it had to it, thinking it was the best of all the buses that i'd seen (at least externally speaking), so I was happy to think that i might be able to catch that one and cruise on down to Tororo in style and comfort and in a timely manner. I waited for a while, i don't know how long really, maybe twenty minutes, but it seemed long (one man had already asked me to buy him water and suggested that I marry the broker, i suggested he could sell his nice shoes if he wanted water that bad, and I said I wasn't interested in the broker, he said he would sell me one shoe for 10,000, 4$), and i wondered if this bus was really coming. I had watched several taxi's come and go, and up to now i had resisted the temptation to just board a taxi and get crammed in the back with the other victims, or passengers, as they call them here. No taxi would go straight through to Tororo, all would stop in Mbale and then i would have to get another taxi from there. But as i waited the idea started sounding better and better. The man insisted the bus was coming, but i've learned through life experience here that, "it's coming" can mean in a few minutes or in a few hours depends on the person's perspective and general up-bringing perhaps. anyway, so finally when the third taxi came i decided to board and quit the waiting game. I boarded a half full taxi, which was my first mistake, after picking me they immediately headed in the opposite direction that i wanted to go, back into town, to pick more passengers, they wouldn't leave Soroti until we had at least 20 people crammed into that thing. And as we headed back into town, i bet you'll never guess what happened...yup...the beautiful, luxurious, bright and shiny red Post bus comes cruising down the road in the opposite direction. And I was trapped, i complained, i whined a bit, but when it came right down to it, there was nothing I could do. I had chosen my fate and had to suffer the consequences. So after the taxi wandered around town for a while we finally filled up and headed out, after about a half hour drive we had to stop just before a bridge and wait for about a half hour as construction machines were blocking the road. And of course I noticed that the Post bus had made it across the bridge before they blocked it. To say the least I was annoyed. I tried to have a good attitude, and what, but i could only keep seeing that bright shiny post bus cruising down the road, picturing myself comfortable and high above the ground, barely feeling the bumps. Then I would get jarred back to reality, by the crying baby and three other women in my row and the lack of shocks on this particular vehicle. The story continues, but I think by now you get the point. It took 5 hours to reach my final destination in tororo. it's hard to describe the smells, the heat, the bumps, the overloadedness, but try to use your imagination.

so...Let's apply to our lives now. How many times have we heard God say, "wait, I'm coming" and we wait for a while, but then think that we have a better way, a quicker solution, a more profitable idea, and we jump on that, only to find out it's leading us in the opposite direction. Oh to think if we could have just waited 5 minutes longer, or 5 days, or months, or years...whatever the time. What have we missed because we thought we were wiser than the One who knows us, our pasts, presents and futures. I eventually got to Tororo, but it took a lot longer and i suffered along the way. I thank you Lord for your grace that allows us to mess up, to doubt, to head in the wrong direction and yet you still pursue us, still call us back to Your self and still help us get to where you want us to be. Lord, help us to wait trusting You, and that you have good motives and good intentions for our waiting.

new life

I suppose before i forget i should begin sharing another great experience that i've had at the main hospital maternity ward. After my experience there last year I should have been more prepared for what I would see/experience, and yet still somehow I was caught off guard. This time it was the sister to my ms.l.m friend N from the market. This is S's 8th delivery so she's done it a few times. She had bled long into her pregnancy and so her sister and cousins would joke around with her saying she'd been pregnant for something like 2 years, (it sounds like something like 15 months actually) I don't really know how it's possible or understand it completely, but all I know is what they tell me. Anyway, she's a bit old to be producing, in her 40's, and her last baby was born with the heart in the wrong place and died at birth. So, she'd been asking for prayers for a long time from me, even though I pray in the name of Jesus she doesn't seem to mind so long as I'm praying. When I came to the hospital I found her in the labor room, this is three beds in a room with one incubator for all of the babies. I found S suffering on one of those labor beds. the lady in the bed next to her had just finished pushing out her baby, but S had been told that her baby is stuck sideways and she'll have to go for c-section surgery if the baby hadn't turned by 2pm. So i came around 3pm and found they still hadn't taken her for surgery yet. They said they were waiting for the doctor who was currently in surgery with someone else. It's better if you don't have your baby on a saturday and I hear Sunday is even worse. They told her not to push, so every few minutes she would cry out in pain and try not to push, grabbing the nearest person to her and holding on. In this labor ward, as soon as you're getting on a bed to deliver you strip down completely and you'd better be ready to deliver, they don't have time for you to waste a bed when the head's not practically crowning already. I found when i got there that even the overflow room of three delivery beds was full, and i saw a young woman seated on the cement ground next to S's bed. I asked N if it was one of her relatives or what, she told me that no she was a patient. She was just sitting down and eventually i saw her get up and walk out of the ward, with blood on the back of her skirt. I didn't ever figure out what had happened with her, or if she ever got treatment or not. It's good that S did not deliver at this time as the one incubator already had four babies in it. I don't know if there was room for any more at that time...

Eventually the nurse told us we could move our patient to the theatre, or operation room. So N went and got the trolly and pulled it in the room and she and a couple of cousins helped put S onto the trolly. Her bed was immediately taken over by the next victim, i mean patient...As we pushed her out into the hall, the nurse said we had to wait for her to take us to the theatre, but that she had an emergency case just come in the door so be patient. I watched as two people struggled to lift a very pregnant lady from the ground and carry her into the labor room. So we rolled our patient on the only mostly operational trolly into the middle of the hallway in a room with about twenty beds and forty people. And there we waited. I don't know how long we waited, but it seemed like forever, many contractions, and our poor patient was hot on top and her feet and legs were so cold. And I was about to try to find the theatre myself. I just kept praying life and health over this woman and her baby. Eventually someone else came and showed us the way to the theatre. It's outside down this sidewalk, and then turn to the other side walk then around this building and up the ramp and back to the other side. From there we still waited as they were still organizing from the previous operation. As we waited we began talking with the anesthesiologist, at least that's my best guess as to what his role was in the operation. He said he wanted me to bring him a bible. I said I could try but could not promise. He then asked if I wanted to come in for the operation, I said, yes, I was hoping I could enter, he asked if I would pass out, I said no. We waited a while longer, the family shifted our patient to another trolly, and then on to a metal trolly and then finally they rolled her into the operation room. I quickly suited up, white gum boots, and green scrubs, mask and hat. Once we got her in the operation room, she again had to be put on yet another bed. The anesthesiologist gave her some drug and then put down the breathing tube and started hand pumping this accordian-looking thing and when he plugged in the machine it made the lights go out, but a little shake of the cord and it came right back. She was out quickly and they began to work, cutting her open, and then digging in, trying to find the baby, first i saw a hand, which the surgeon put back in, then a foot, finally, the head and out he pulled her. She whimpered a little and then they cut the cord with her hanging mostly upside down, then the midwife took her and began working on her, sucking out the junk from the mouth. At one point i looked over at the baby and she wasn't really breathing, just laying there and the midwife was pumping some oxygen into her and then kinda hitting her on the ribs from the side. and i was like, oh no, and then i looked over at S and blood started shooting out from one side and i was like, oh no, and then he clamped it and got that bleeding under control and finally the baby started really crying and she was going to be ok. I kept speaking life and health in the name of Jesus. they pulled the uterus out and put it up on her belly and started stitching it back up, then put it back in and stitched up the other layers. as they were stitching the midwife and I brought the baby out to the relatives and they were happy, after a quick photo with the baby

N took her the long distance back to the one incubator. I went back into keep praying over and watching over S as they finished putting her back together. The crew was tired, they talked of gun shot victims from earlier in the day, and the anesthesiologist tried to wake up S as soon as he could. we washed all the blood off her, and eventually she was "awake" enough and we again shifted her to the metal trolly and rolled her out the door into the other room, where the family again shifted her to the other trolly, and proceeded to roll her outside in the rain back to her room, down the sidewalk on the mostly operating trolly.

We eventually reached back to her "room" which is shared with many other people, but at least they have some little money, so they were able to pay for the expensive annex, at the equivalent of 2$ a day. it's a room with only 8 beds, but they are separated by twos, with curtains, so they're almost mostly private...from there the family shifted her again finally to her bed where she proceeded to sleep for some time. As she was coming in and out she began shouting in arabic that Allah is great. over and over. At first the IV wasn't working but after an hour or so the nurse finally got around to coming to get it working, having to switch the IV hand. Wow, i'm tired just reliving this story. Anyway, there's more to come in future, but that is the gist of it. Oh yeah, the baby is too cute, she weighed something like 3.7 kilos, an 8 pound baby, so that's a pretty good sized baby, and rightfully so, being in the womb for as long as she was. And they're calling her smaller Rebecca...not really sure that's a ms.l.m name, but i think it might stick... and a few photos from today, smaller rebecca is now 2 days old...

worlds apart

A couple of days ago I went to visit the homes of the children that play in my yard. My young friend Betty (almost 13) came with me, as we were bringing food for her family for the month up to her house. Upon reaching her home, she brought the food inside. The grandmother said thank you (the mother stays in the village and the father also lives elsewhere and neither one seems to care one bit about their three-four children). Grandma began talking to me in Ateso, I smiled, tried to listen for a bit, then got up and went to visit the mothers of the other children who come over most days after school. They all live in the same little area. I should have taken a photo, maybe next time. But try to picture...hmm...what to compare it with? maybe like single story apartment buildings, in a row, with 3-4 one room apartments each row...not one bedroom, but simply one room. this is where these guys stay. I greeted one mother, then moved on to another one, and as i sat down to talk with her many children came up to greet me, to shake my hand and to stare at me. I started patting one girl's belly, it seemed she had worms, i was praying for Jesus to remove the worms when Betty says to me, a funny thing happened to that girl, she was raped. I looked at that precious girl, and asked Betty what happened, if it was a relative or what, she said it was some drunk man from the nearby bars, and that he never ended up going to prison. I asked when it happened, she said when she was 3. I asked how old she is now, she said 3 and a half. wow. LORD HAVE MERCY! Then Betty casually mentions that those kind of things happen, where someone does something terribly wrong and then gets little to no punishment. She then proceeded to give the example of the lady who they just released from prison who had buried her child alive...LORD HAVE MERCY! So after this i continued to pray for this small girl, that Jesus would heal more than just worms in her stomach, those were the least of her worries, but heal her wounded soul. After visiting a couple more "houses" i left with Betty. She then mentions as we drive away that she doesn't like a certain woman whom I had just met because she's had two abortions. LORD HAVE MERCY! This group of apartments is less than a mile away from my house and yet it's a world apart. It's no wonder these kids love coming after school to play in my yard. It's just a beautiful green place where a kid can play and be a kid, instead of hearing and dealing with all the crap that is going on in and around their housing complex. Lord, have mercy on these kids, make my home a place of refuge, a safe place for people to come and experience the love and peace that only Jesus can offer. Come and let your life giving presence fill this place.

October 3

So we found out just in time that Hellen's birthday is October 3, 1979. She was able to ask an auntie who told her the correct date, just one week before the day of celebration. In some sense, I like knowing, now I can be prepared and really celebrate the day, however, I also, liked reminding her that I'm glad she was born every time that I saw her. How precious we are to our heavenly Father, we should be reminded every day, how glad He is that we were born, when we were born, where we were born, in which family we were born into....I leave you with the challenge today...tell someone that you are glad they were born, even though it's not their birthday and remind them of how precious they also are to our Heavenly Father, who has brought them about at such a time as this, and for a certain purpose. I've been learning just how important it is that we speak life into one another's lives. We choose to either speak life or death in whatever we say. Are we overflowing with the Living Water when we speak, or are we allowing the enemy to use our words to steal, kill and destroy? Let's speak life.

ok, so no one guessed the date of Hellen's real birth, therefore no one gets the prize, which unfortunately would have been a brand new helicopter. sorry.

How old is Hellen?

Everyday that my house helper Hellen comes I ask her if she has found out her birthday yet. I make some smart aleck comment along the lines of, "Hellen! today could be your birthday, what if it's today and I haven't even gotten anything for you?" Then she proceeds to try to call her sister who stays with her mother to find out when her birthday is. Usually the cell network is down so she's not able to reach, then if she gets through to someone either they are out of the house or the mother is. Hellen knows she was born in 1979. But that is all. She doesn't know the month or day, but thinks her mother does. Earlier this week her uncle called me looking for Hellen, after telling him she had already gone back to her home, I asked him if he had found out when her birthday was. He said it was February 2. I began rejoicing that we finally solved the mystery, but then he added, 1975. I remember that Hellen knew clearly that she was born in 1979, so I asked him if he was very sure, he said yes, that that was the correct date. I hung up not super convinced now that the mystery had been solved. I called Hellen and asked her, she stood firm on the year of her birth being 1979, as she said, her older sister, the one that had died already was born in '75. hmmm...so now is the day right and just not the year? or is the year and day right and hellen just always knew wrong? It would be quite the shocker to think you're 32 only to find out you're really 36. So now, I think we have to communicate directly to the mother and see if we can't solve this mystery yet...until then, I'll just keep giving Hellen a present everyday I see her, just in case (I know she's missed out on at least 32 celebrations...and maybe even 36). If anyone wants to guess the correct date, i can give a prize to the closest person...here's a photo of her to help you in your guessing...

Bible Study Development

So, officially we've started bible studies with three of the five areas that I'm working in with children who have been affected by armed forces. They have been good. We had some 35 at one (Lotuke and Abim were combined in this one) and about 25 at the other (Omoro). But I feel like there is a problem b/c these areas are big and the youth are scattered throughout and some came walking to the meeting place and it took them over two hours to get there. Ideally we would break the groups into smaller groups, one in each parish (there are 4-5 parishes in a sub-county). But who will lead these groups then? We've sent multiple potential leaders through the Father-Heart encounter, but very few seem very interested in the children and youth's spiritual growth. Right now these bible studies are not self-sustainable. Please pray with me that God would reveal the next steps for creating smaller groups in each area. Or do I just work with one smaller group and try to get them started and then go from there? I need wisdom and discernment. The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few, pray to the Lord of the Harvest to send out more workers! For Him to bring forth the ones that are interested in serving these youth.

Below Pastor James is sharing from the Word of God at the Lotuke/Abim bible study, with a local pastor, Pastor David translating for him.

Here Berna is sharing a Word she felt the Lord put on her heart to encourage the youth.

I know God is able to do beyond what we ask or imagine, so ask and imagine with me with Him and see what He shows us and what He wants to do and what He's doing. thanks.

God answers prayers

So, today I was headed into town on my bicycle to drop some things off to a friend, when I spotted one of my neighbors also headed toward town. I stopped and greeted her and asked her where she was going. she said to market. I asked her if she wanted a ride, and she agreed. So she sat on the bicycle rack and we began moving toward town. I said, "I thought that you quit that job of running the shop and started selling cassava chips by the road side instead." she said "Thank you for your prayers, God answered our prayers and the lady who owns the shop came to me at home, after one week and told me she would increase my wages and provide lunch for me if I would come back." A couple months ago, I had visited her in the clothing shop in market. She was complaining that the owner lady was paying her little and not even providing her with money for lunch which she really wanted because she brings her baby with her to work. I explained to her that her heavenly Father cares for her and is the One who can provide, and I offered to pray for her right there from the store. Normally I'll just say, I'll pray for you and I do it from the privacy of my room, but that time I felt I should pray right then and there. So we prayed for the owner and for the increase in wages and the lunch money and now the lady has given it to her. She kept saying God answered your prayers the whole way into town. and she added that she's reading her bible now. It made me happy to hear this testimony of God's goodness. So many times lately I've had the opportunity to share with people about God as their Good Father who wants to provide for them and then I will pray for them. I felt this was a good reminder that my prayers are not in vain, that they are indeed reaching the ears of a loving Father, who wants to provide for His children.

I'm now remembering also, that this morning I was praying that I would be walking so well in my identity as the daughter of the King that anything that was not of Him would become so obvious to me. Now by this evening He's pointed out to me three distinct things that need to be taken care of in my life: my pride, my competitive spirit and my fear of close relationships. It wasn't until just now (at the end of the day) that I realized it was another prayer that God answered. And though it hurt my heart to realize those ugly things are still within me, I'm so thankful that He answered that prayer and that He's working on those things. And that I cannot remain the same. He is faithful to complete the work that He has began in me. He is bringing me from one degree of glory to another, changing me into the image of Christ. And for that I am eternally grateful. He's a faithful Father who takes good care of His children.