Kevin and JD are parents to the Christ School Community, who this year will number more than 400 students and over 40 staff members plus their families . . . . All of whom work, eat, and live on-campus. On Friday afternoon, Kevin announced his resignation after ten years as headmaster to a bewildered staff. This was no surprise. After all, they prayed us here as their replacements, several years ago. But to many; staff, students, community members . . . . This was the first time to hear the news.

Jennifer and I met and prayed while Kevin, David and Scott were announcing the change of leadership to the staff. Please be praying for the hearts of all involved. Thought the Bartkoviches are leaving in a planned and organized way because they know that God is calling them on, it’s still very difficult. Difficult for them as they close up ten years of life and ministry and relationships here and difficult for all of us their American and Ugandan friends and neighbors who have been changed and made better by knowing them.

Now the reactions begin. David and I are holding tight, praying our way through our days as we wait to see what each will bring. JD and Kevin are receiving the many visitors who will thank them for the things they have done and beg them not to leave. Pray mostly for them, for strength, courage, tears, open hearts to receive the pain of this time so that they will be ready for the next season.

Across the world from me you sit, imagining bundibugyo; exotic, jungly, full of tropical diseases and the possibilities of rebels appearing on the horizon. Occasionally the reality of that hits me too, but most of the time it’s just home.
As another full day ends I trudge up over the beaten-down grass path and across our busy single dirt road, dodging a motorcycle or two, to collect a pail of milk from our team cow - precious cargo for sustaining our protein-needy children. Walking the five minutes home as twilight deepens and mountains smudge purple-black on the horizon, African neighbor children sing my name “annelisie” and frogs and toads hop away beneath my moving feet. I pass our resident Ugandan soldiers cleaning their guns and uniforms; pass the water tap with its’ line of girls, women, and young boys collecting water for evening cooking, bathing, washing; pass our neighbor clan of 40 plus people and their animals, living among dirt, litter, and animal droppings in a space about the size of a normal American home . . . . . I feel, rather than hear, the creak of our swinging gate as I open it and enter our yard. The last of the day’s visitors are walking towards me and back towards their homes, across the grass; my children waiting, their faces peering over the screen door, for me to pasteurize their milk, heat their kettle baths, and finish their dinner. My husband, ready for a hug, finally finished with the work of a “big man”; solving the problems of many for another day. Our dog, jumping to smell the milk then leaping away to hunts the birds and lizards. This is the reality of home.

Second day of N and Q’s school, I stopped by the hospital during Quinn’s morning kindergarten time to see the new mural forming at Nyhuka Health Center. Team-mate Pat happens to be a talented artist in addition to an all-round amazing person and lover of the hopeless and helpless. The wall Pat is painting is huge - I had no idea the size of the project. The new mural has started with the blue and green forming the skyline of our Ruwenzori Moutains. Eventually the scene will contain all things familiar to Nyahuka’s children; our familiar landmarks of market, mission, Christ School, Primary Schools, etc.
Dr. Jennifer, Scott Will, and new nurse Heidi were all working in the ped ward when I showed up. And watching Pat paint were a lot of sick kids. Sweet patient Ayiesha - I don’t know her diagnosis but she had the peeling skin and listless eyes of a kwashiokor (or severely protein deficient) child - had a front row seat to watch Pat as her bed faces the new mural. Someone had bought her a baby doll and she posed for me with her baby, her face registering nothing but acquiescence, no energy for more.
Yet it was stepping outside the ward that my heart felt it’s real tug. As I pulled open that outside door and encountered those waiting on benches outside the door, a small girl Naomi’s size caught my eye. She was clutching something wrapped in a dirty piece of kitangi cloth and flung over one arm. I did a double take at what looked like one of the characteristically nonchalant baby holds familiar here . . . . Was that, a baby? I touched the cloth, asking “mwana?” (baby?) Back came the top bit of cloth and the gasping face of a teeny tiny naked little one, nothing more than skin, bones and breath peered forth. The entire bundle unbelievably small to house a human being. I wanted to say “she’s beautiful” to the mother nearby who had looked up by this time. Yet even to me this sounded wrong. Instead I touched that precious soft head, took in the skin pulled back across her cheekbones, said “Sorry, sorry” with all the love and compassion in my heart, hoping it was enough for something. Then I walked away . . . . . She is one of so many, yet today she touched my heart.

Masso and Bartkovich family arrived back yesterday . . . For the Massos it’s the start of a year of transition towards Sudan while providing team stability and closing their ministries here. For the Bartkoviches it’s the start of a week and a half of saying goodbyes, transferring leadership, and closing ten years of team, family and ministry life.

For us it’s the beginning of propulsion into bigger ministry at Christ School. The Bartkoviches are leaving because God answered their prayers by bringing us. Now their move to America means our move on-campus and into the “headmaster’s houe” as well as the shift of many responsibilities and burdens of running the school.

For all of us, it’s a lot.

The next few weeks will be very intense not only for the Bartkovich family and ours but for the team, the school and the whole community. It’s hard to underestimate the role we play here in the lives of locals. And Kevin and JD Bartkovich as establishers of the first quality secondary school in the district are a big part of that.

Please be praying for all of our hearts and for the Most High to overshadow us with his love and protection. And though my fearful heart just wants to ask for us all to be “kept safe” physically, spiritually, emotionally during this time; a big God reminds me gently that we can ask for so much more than that. Reminds me that Heaven can come to earth in this time if we can ask in faith. So please pray for God to be glorified in new and beautiful and surprising ways during this time and for us to be sensitive to ask Him even for the things we don’t yet know we need.

The children have been here in Bundi for the last several weeks with no school and no age mates, though the Myhre kids have been wonderful companions. Without American friends here, our children’s lives are limited in relationships. Unfortunately our children have not yet developed strong relationships within the Ugandan community with other children (though with some adults). It’s a difficult process. We hope someday that if we are able to establish a primary school our children could learn there with Ugandan kids and develop relationships in that way, a level playing ground.
Today is the last day before school starts. We have been waiting for their age mates, the Masso kids, to return to start school with them. Naomi and Liana are in third grade together, Quinn and Lianna’s brother Gabriel are in Kindergarten. Quinn has fallen quite in love with his new teacher Miss Ashley (also Naomi’s teacher, the four share a schoolroom) and is very eager to start school and hoping for lots of homework. Naomi also enjoys school and the rhythm of life during the school year. Since they have both been out of formal school since August, we are all very eager for life to resume in this way.
Today the Pierce family made our school year contract, agreeing to uniform, lunch, and extra privilege routines. And for a last day before school activity, Naomi and Quinn decided on picnic lunch in their special climbing tree. Jessie the dog watched avidly for scraps to fall . . . . And children peered through the fence in amazement. As usual, we are quite an oddity here.