This post goes back, to probably a day after my last post. Sorry for being absent. We were away on a team retreat weekend (yea, I know, can you believe we are retreating already??! - wasn’t for us really.) and then back in Kampala working out some of our living issues (maybe.) Now we’ve been back in Bundibugyo district (back in Bundimelengo as I should say it, the little village area we live in goes by that name), only since Friday night.

We were “interviewing” a man named Daniel, as a possible houseworker. He is a pentecostal pastor here, just 24, married three years with a two year old son and beautiful wife. We got the tip off from someone that Daniel was looking for work and were pleased to find that his English is quite reasonable. He also has a sweet and compassionate heart and loves children. Through the prayers and advice of a team friend we decided to hire him to spend two hours in the morning doing indoor worker type things (washing our clothes by hand, sweeping out the house daily (you wouldn’t believe the dust!), and a few other things. In addition, he will come back two hours in the late afternoon to act as sort of a yard facilatator for the local children who come to visit and play with us. He will help me to learn the language as well as translate and monitor the situations (it gets really crazy when you have 30 children of all different ages, economic situations, and family situations and when the adult present doesn’t understand their language at all. Stuff comes up.) So, as we were making this decision about Daniel . . . He spent a day or two just hanging out in the yard, I think trying to make an impression and hopefully have us hire him.

As we sat out in front of the house in one of our typical situations, N and Q have gotten tired of playing chase and being watched and have collapsed on my lap. All the children collapse around us and watch intently for the next excitement. The children begin talking amongst themselves. We sit, I try not to think for several minutes . . . . But there is Daniel beside me and he says, “the children are wishing that you would tell them a Bible story”. I was so surprised. I had no idea that they would be thinking that. So after a moment I told them the story of how Naomi got her name (the Ruth and Naomi Bible story, which nobody here seems to have heard of) while Daniel translated phrase for phrase and the children listened and “eh”‘d. I was able to share with them about Jesus and his love for them and his plan of salvation as I explained that Ruth was the ancestor of Jesus. They then asked for another and I told the story of Magezi’s (Quinns) name. I told them about King Solomon and how he became wise. At this point Quinn had wandered away and started crying so I told them to come back for more later.

I cannot describe to you the gift it was to be able to share these truths with these children. As I explained to them about Jesus and his love for them and told them that was why I had come to Uganda, to tell them of Jesus love, I started to well up. What is that quote? Something about our calling being where our desires, gifts, and passions intersect with the needs of the world. Bingo. Thank you Daddy-God for knowing me, loving me, and calling me . . . . .