Team kids gathered to make the recipe for resurrection cookies on Easter Eve. Every ingredient has a meaning and accompanying Bible verse, including crushed nuts, vinegar, salt, sugar, eggs, etc. Kids helped me to read the Bible verses, then joined with their usual enthusiasm in the cooking. At the end we taped shut the oven with cookies inside, to represent the sealed tomb. The despair we felt at not eating our just-made cookies ( they dried in the hot oven overnight) must have rivaled the despair of Jesus disciples at the tomb that night.

On the swings, in the sand, with his best buddy Gaby. The sand is also great for collecting lizard eggs. Morning is kindergarten next door at RMS (ruwenzori mission school) where Quinn has started reading! Afternoons are here in the yard, drinking in the delights of an African childhood.

Since Sunday; an unrelenting headache, no appetite, throwing up, naseau, fevers and chills, dizziness. I am on antibiotics now to combat the rare possibility of a disease caught from rats (I cleaned where perhaps I shouldn’t have). I hope it helps.
Team, as usual, picks up the slack, helping with food and kids, keeping our family together. Thank you. David is amazing, taking care of me, the kids and the school without skipping a beat.
I am really ready to be well, it’s been a long week.

Last night I tucked two happy, tired children into bed after a long, hot, dusty day of play. We so much enjoyed our first evening together in our new home. Though we shifted last Friday, we have been fed by team since then so last night was the first night for warm kettle baths in the new shower room and family talk and prayer around the table, and a home cooked meal that EVERYONE loves (roasted chicken, baked potatoes and bitter greens salad). The kids bathed for almost an hour, enjoying tubs and toys and bubbles then dug ravenously into their dinners. I could almost see their souls mending, their hearts healing as their bodies got clean and their tummies full. Up till last night they had been sleeping on simple sheets with a blanket pulled over, but by last night I had gotten their beds truly made in the comfortable “Pierce” way. We had bedtime read-alouds and special hugs and kisses and prayers. It was a a real evening, the real way, for us. I’m so thankful for the ability to nest my family, to house them in a home, not just a dwelling, and to help them feel secure, safe, loved. It’s the best thing I do in my life.

Tomorrow (Friday) early, we start our shift. The whole team plus workers are pitching in and I anticipate we will be sleeping in our new house tomorrow night and eating there by Sunday morning. Ever wish you could just order a pizza?? After many moves with the Navy, our routine is pizza and soda shared with the moving crew to keep everyone’s spirits high and bodies strong. No such luck this time.

I am tired. David is busy. The kids are REALLY ready to move. Pray us through.

And a GRAND welcome to baby Anna Joy Lowe – I wish I could hold you, sweetheart; if you only knew how much we’ve prayed for you.

Palm Sunday, the day Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, victorious for the moment. We feel anything but. It’s one of those still, hot, sticky days when the cold showers feel amazing and filtered fridge water tastes better than anything else. David has just driven up the road to grab what we hope will be the last load out of the old house; dishes, just washed, clothes still on the line, pictures off the walls. We’re tired, disorganized and a little disillusioned with ourselves.

Casey, the Christ School dog, lies in our doorway waiting hopefully for scraps, which are abundant as Naomi and Quinn eat and Eat and EAT these days (that’s a huge answer to prayer from last year!) Out front, the Senior 1 (s1) girls, freshman at our school, play football in a semi-organized match. Julia joins them, her cleats standing out among the bare feet more than her white skin does. There are screams, cheers, and falling-on-the-ground-after-a-kick dramatics. These are just teenage girls.

Nearby on the Christ School track, another group of girls jumps rope together with a long piece they have saved for this time. Boy have gathered to watch football and jump roping and the impromptu volleyball game that has sprung up – well, really just to watch the girls. These are are just teenage boys.

Our yard, just before the field, is full of staff kids; Ingrid and Benjamin, Bethany and Muruungi, Shalot and Prince. They are kicking balls, riding bikes and using whatever else they’ve found on the porch . . . . . .

Staff wander around casually on-campus, dressed in weekend casual clothes, enjoying a day off and the joy of their students, unsupervised. For staff, this is their home; their babies play here, they share apartments or dorms, they eat together, talk together, play together, gripe together. Romances spring up and flirtations, baby holders join families to allow mom and dad the freedom to teach or work at the local clinic.

This is our new home, our new community. Though I’ve been totally pre-occupied with the still-not-dry kitchen counter and cabinets in my home, with my trouble getting water to flow and with my stove on a slanting floor allowing morning scrambled eggs to slide right off onto the floor; I notice the many differences of this new place. Night sounds are different, we are close enough to our glass-shard-topped cement wall to almost-hear conversations around the cooking fires in the town of Nyahuka. Instead of the night sounds of animals in the river beds, we hear the town sounds; discos and drunken men. We wake to the smell of night jasmine rather than the gardenias of our old home. Morning devotions naturally happen on the porch, as the school wakens and the first students hit the track for their morning run.

This week promises to be very difficult. We are letting two workers go, hiring a new one and starting to train her, finalizing the close-up of the old house, trying to make this one livable and heading into an intense Easter weekend and team planning time. I must admit that I feel each meal time is an act of faith for me right now; with no counters and cabinets, a barely functioning sink; stove on the slant and just-cooling fridge. With my kitchen things in basins on the floor and my food boxed in trunks because the shelving to hold it has fallen down. With no workers to wash dishes or shop at the market. Yet God provides every time; mostly through our amazing team. Jennifer, single this week as Scott is just returning from an important meeting, made us donuts and coffee this morning – yes, from scratch. Michael cooked us quesadillas yesterday and Karen fed us her home-ground pork with rice casserole. We are taken care of – now I just need to work on the faith bit.

As part of our “shift” (moving means something else here, so we talk about shifting, which means changing your home location) we wanted to do a few special things to say goodbye to our neighbors, the Akolimpe clan. This very poor family group has lots of issues. We suspect one of the women is a practicing witch doctor and all of the families have too many children, too little in the way of income to care for them. Many of these people have deceived us in one way or another, taken loans which they have never repaid, received many gifts which haven’t gone to what they were requested for. Yet they’re our neighbors. The children practically live in our yard. They consistently break our yard rules by teasing the dog to distraction ( and occasionally throwing rocks and sticks at her) and climbing down into our trash pit to remove “goodies” (your heart has not yet been broken if you haven’t seen a two year old lifted down into the stinking, fly-infested interior of a trash pit to retrieve some broken, dirty piece of garbage that interests the children above – perhaps a broken piece of mirror or an old water drinking water bottle or a torn page out of a kids magazine. We give any garbage that we think of as usable, away. It doesn’t stop kids from going in the pit. These kids try to come and play instead of going to school ( if their parents are bothering to send them), they come too early, they stay too late, they refuse to leave when we tell them saha kuganda (time to go).

Yet I love these children dearly; sweet kabibi, salone, singoma, keboy and about 20 others. Once we are behind the fence of the CSB compound our world will revolve around students and staff. For students safety and protection from distraction we have fencing surrounding the school and gatekeepers who won’t let in (or out) random children or adults. I will still walk up the road to visit the Akolimpe clan, but our relationship will have to change.

Yesterday N and Q and their friends Gaby and Liana helped me pack 25 goody bags for these kids. I used all the rest of the goodies you all have sent to me for village children. There were toothbrushes in every bag, candy or cookies, coloring books, story books, stuffed animals, jewelry, balls, hair things, cars. These bags were truly beautiful, much like an operation Christmas Child box. Into each, I put a special note with the child’s name, saying that I love them and God is watching for them. Though they won’t be able to read the notes, they will treasure them, I know.

Assimwe agreed to cook for me and we prepared a feast; soda, rice, cabbage and beef. All foods these kids MIGHT get for Christmas dinner. We decorated the kituubi (outside house) with mats, blankets and chalk colorings and set up a stereo with african music. Soon the kids began to arrive.

We had such a blast together. I had brought back our play parachute (thanks Dad!) and we filled it with the confetti that Trish B. sent for local kids. As the children arrived we formed a circle inside the kituubi and played the “make a circle” game over and over and over with variations for almost 45 minutes! It’s a little like ring around a rosy, at the end of the song, you normally fall. Instead, we threw the parachute skywards and confetti flew over our heads and bodies until all of the confetti had decorated the kitubbi (and children).

We went on to play other games: “children be strong” (tug of war using only bodies, no ropes); and some frisbee games. It was wonderful to hear the happiness of all the kids. As I stood directing through a translator, with a sweet Africa baby on each hip, I was so thankful for this time, this chance to enter their world with joy.

We served up our feast and the kids ate till they couldn’t eat much more. Then we started our story time. As I had prayed about what to tell, the story of Jonah (or Yonah) came to mind. I told the story, dramatically (what an enjoyable story to tell dramatically!) involving the children with hand motions, etc. My main thrust was that we, like Jonah, have a choice. Through our bible story hours they have heard the truth, heard that Jesus died so that they can live, will they choose to go to Ninevah or run away to Tarshish? Children listened attentively and I hope and believe that many of them are choosing Jesus.

As the final event of the evening, we gave away our goodie bags and sent the kids on their way. As I passed by the compound on my way out the gate, I heard the excited hum of many children’s voice, and the crackle of bags and wrappers. Thanks God for loving these children through me, if only for tonight. May they realize that as they were treasured tonight, you treasure them. As they experienced the joy of being special, honored guests ; that they will realize that you too have prepared a place for them were they will be honored in eternity.

As part of our “shift” (moving means something else here, so we talk about shifting, which means changing your home location) we wanted to do a few special things to say goodbye to our neighbors, the Akolimpe clan. This very poor family group has lots of issues. We suspect one of the women is a practicing witch doctor and all of the families have too many children, too little in the way of income to care for them. Many of these people have deceived us in one way or another, taken loans which they have never repaid, received many gifts which haven’t gone to what they were requested for. Yet they’re our neighbors. The children practically live in our yard. They consistently break our yard rules by teasing the dog to distraction ( and occasionally throwing rocks and sticks at her) and climbing down into our trash pit to remove “goodies” (your heart has not yet been broken if you haven’t seen a two year old lifted down into the stinking, fly-infested interior of a trash pit to retrieve some broken, dirty piece of garbage that interests the children above – perhaps a broken piece of mirror or an old water drinking water bottle or a torn page out of a kids magazine. We give any garbage that we think of as usable, away. It doesn’t stop kids from going in the pit. These kids try to come and play instead of going to school ( if their parents are bothering to send them), they come too early, they stay too late, they refuse to leave when we tell them saha kuganda (time to go).

Yet I love these children dearly; sweet kabibi, salone, singoma, keboy and about 20 others. Once we are behind the fence of the CSB compound our world will revolve around students and staff. For students safety and protection from distraction we have fencing surrounding the school and gatekeepers who won’t let in (or out) random children or adults. I will still walk up the road to visit the Akolimpe clan, but our relationship will have to change.

Yesterday N and Q and their friends Gaby and Liana helped me pack 25 goody bags for these kids. I used all the rest of the goodies you all have sent to me for village children. There were toothbrushes in every bag, candy or cookies, coloring books, story books, stuffed animals, jewelry, balls, hair things, cars. These bags were truly beautiful, much like an operation Christmas Child box. Into each, I put a special note with the child’s name, saying that I love them and God is watching for them. Though they won’t be able to read the notes, they will treasure them, I know.

Assimwe agreed to cook for me and we prepared a feast; soda, rice, cabbage and beef. All foods these kids MIGHT get for Christmas dinner. We decorated the kituubi (outside house) with mats, blankets and chalk colorings and set up a stereo with african music. Soon the kids began to arrive.

We had such a blast together. I had brought back our play parachute (thanks Dad!) and we filled it with the confetti that Trish B. sent for local kids. As the children arrived we formed a circle inside the kituubi and played the “make a circle” game over and over and over with variations for almost 45 minutes! It’s a little like ring around a rosy, at the end of the song, you normally fall. Instead, we threw the parachute skywards and confetti flew over our heads and bodies until all of the confetti had decorated the kitubbi (and children).

We went on to play other games: “children be strong” (tug of war using only bodies, no ropes); and some frisbee games. It was wonderful to hear the happiness of all the kids. As I stood directing through a translator, with a sweet Africa baby on each hip, I was so thankful for this time, this chance to enter their world with joy.

We served up our feast and the kids ate till they couldn’t eat much more. Then we started our story time. As I had prayed about what to tell, the story of Jonah (or Yonah) came to mind. I told the story, dramatically (what an enjoyable story to tell dramatically!) involving the children with hand motions, etc. My main thrust was that we, like Jonah, have a choice. Through our bible story hours they have heard the truth, heard that Jesus died so that they can live, will they choose to go to Ninevah or run away to Tarshish? Children listened attentively and I hope and believe that many of them are choosing Jesus.

As the final event of the evening, we gave away our goodie bags and sent the kids on their way. As I passed by the compound on my way out the gate, I heard the excited hum of many children’s voice, and the crackle of bags and wrappers. Thanks God for loving these children through me, if only for tonight. May they realize that as they were treasured tonight, you treasure them. As they experienced the joy of being special, honored guests ; that they will realize that you too have prepared a place for them were they will be honored in eternity.

As part of our “shift” (moving means something else here, so we talk about shifting, which means changing your home location) we wanted to do a few special things to say goodbye to our neighbors, the Akolimpe clan. This very poor family group has lots of issues. We suspect one of the women is a practicing witch doctor and all of the families have too many children, too little in the way of income to care for them. Many of these people have deceived us in one way or another, taken loans which they have never repaid, received many gifts which haven’t gone to what they were requested for. Yet they’re our neighbors. The children practically live in our yard. They consistently break our yard rules by teasing the dog to distraction ( and occasionally throwing rocks and sticks at her) and climbing down into our trash pit to remove “goodies” (your heart has not yet been broken if you haven’t seen a two year old lifted down into the stinking, fly-infested interior of a trash pit to retrieve some broken, dirty piece of garbage that interests the children above – perhaps a broken piece of mirror or an old water drinking water bottle or a torn page out of a kids magazine. We give any garbage that we think of as usable, away. It doesn’t stop kids from going in the pit. These kids try to come and play instead of going to school ( if their parents are bothering to send them), they come too early, they stay too late, they refuse to leave when we tell them saha kuganda (time to go).

Yet I love these children dearly; sweet kabibi, salone, singoma, keboy and about 20 others. Once we are behind the fence of the CSB compound our world will revolve around students and staff. For students safety and protection from distraction we have fencing surrounding the school and gatekeepers who won’t let in (or out) random children or adults. I will still walk up the road to visit the Akolimpe clan, but our relationship will have to change.

Yesterday N and Q and their friends Gaby and Liana helped me pack 25 goody bags for these kids. I used all the rest of the goodies you all have sent to me for village children. There were toothbrushes in every bag, candy or cookies, coloring books, story books, stuffed animals, jewelry, balls, hair things, cars. These bags were truly beautiful, much like an operation Christmas Child box. Into each, I put a special note with the child’s name, saying that I love them and God is watching for them. Though they won’t be able to read the notes, they will treasure them, I know.

Assimwe agreed to cook for me and we prepared a feast; soda, rice, cabbage and beef. All foods these kids MIGHT get for Christmas dinner. We decorated the kituubi (outside house) with mats, blankets and chalk colorings and set up a stereo with african music. Soon the kids began to arrive.

We had such a blast together. I had brought back our play parachute (thanks Dad!) and we filled it with the confetti that Trish B. sent for local kids. As the children arrived we formed a circle inside the kituubi and played the “make a circle” game over and over and over with variations for almost 45 minutes! It’s a little like ring around a rosy, at the end of the song, you normally fall. Instead, we threw the parachute skywards and confetti flew over our heads and bodies until all of the confetti had decorated the kitubbi (and children).

We went on to play other games: “children be strong” (tug of war using only bodies, no ropes); and some frisbee games. It was wonderful to hear the happiness of all the kids. As I stood directing through a translator, with a sweet Africa baby on each hip, I was so thankful for this time, this chance to enter their world with joy.

We served up our feast and the kids ate till they couldn’t eat much more. Then we started our story time. As I had prayed about what to tell, the story of Jonah (or Yonah) came to mind. I told the story, dramatically (what an enjoyable story to tell dramatically!) involving the children with hand motions, etc. My main thrust was that we, like Jonah, have a choice. Through our bible story hours they have heard the truth, heard that Jesus died so that they can live, will they choose to go to Ninevah or run away to Tarshish? Children listened attentively and I hope and believe that many of them are choosing Jesus.

As the final event of the evening, we gave away our goodie bags and sent the kids on their way. As I passed by the compound on my way out the gate, I heard the excited hum of many children’s voice, and the crackle of bags and wrappers. Thanks God for loving these children through me, if only for tonight. May they realize that as they were treasured tonight, you treasure them. As they experienced the joy of being special, honored guests ; that they will realize that you too have prepared a place for them were they will be honored in eternity.

A Ugandan Christian brother sat me down for a serious conversation a few days ago. Surprisingly, happily, he was willing to speak into my life as my fellow believer – to confront me, really, on my behavior.
The conversation revolved around his reports that many local people are saying that “Annelise has changed”. They think, maybe, that I have become proud, I don’t care about people. ” You see her driving the motocar and she doesn’t even wave to some of her friends. Every day she has a serious face, not laughing and joking like before. We don’t even hear her preaching the gospel everyday, everyday. She used to give a Word of God to every person but these days her words are very small.”
I admit to a small ( okay, large) bit of frustration . . . . . As we take over our ministry at Christ School, as we shift from one house to another, as we take on a new life and I try to stabilize my family through it while continuing many relationships and ministry obligations, I do find myself serious. And as I sat with this friend and talked, I heard myself saying more than once: ” that school is a big luggage, really, so that is one of the reasons you find me like that.” (like my African english??:) ) Not to mention my body still recovering from years of unhealthiness and the surgery that fixed it, not to mention adjusting to several new medications and their side affects. Not to mention that in addition to my obvious Christ School life, I have a team life (also complicated!) and an American life as well. Now do I sound like I’m making some serious excuses for myself?

As I walked home, many thoughts were in my head: I’m right, he’s wrong. Don’t they understand?? My life is much more complicated than they realize. I’m trying, can’t they see me trying?” And even upon much more reflection (these are the very issues that keep me up late and wake me early whether or not anyone brings them up) I think that viewpoint has merit. This IS a hard time for me, for us. This is a time of change of stabilizing, of holding on, waiting and believing that the glory comes later. Yet what the Holy Spirit also kept bringing to mind was the phrase about my carrying “heavy luggage” and how clearly God’s word applies. Doesn’t God say, ” my yoke is easy, my burden is light.” Or as I have translated into African English ” My things are small and my luggage is not heavy.” Yet for me the luggage has felt heavy these last few weeks. That is an indicator that I am not releasing these few small things He has entrusted me with, back to Him. Trusting Him with myself, my work, my gifts, small though they be.

There were times when Jesus was with the people, preaching, teaching and healing. There were times when Jesus was alone, conversing with His Dad (I need so much more of this). There were times when Jesus was with the few, with his good friends, pouring out into their lives. That is where I find myself right now. And as a result, whether I want to preach the gospel or not, I find myself without words to speak. And I must believe that God has closed my mouth for the present. The Holy Spirit was always the one speaking in my Bible Studies, Bible story hours and many many conversations. Yet now I find myself word-less and I must accept, with crying, that this is not my work right now.

Didn’t the prophets have times when they spoke and times when they were called to be quiet? I’m grasping here, because I liked myself so much better last year, when my calling felt vaguer yet somehow surer. When I woke up each day excited to spread the name of Jesus. When I held small dark bodies in my arms, played rounds of Uno as I looked into the bright excited eyes of little neighbor boys. I miss sitting with women as they cook sombe over a twilight fire. Miss walking dusty roads and crossing intersecting rivers on my way to visit a friend or carry an old man or woman to the hospital by car. I miss being full of compassion and mercy and having time for people.

Yet I do believe. I believe that God called me by name. I believe He prepared this new work for me from before the beginning of time. I believe that He will also bring glory out of it all, some day. God help my unbelief. Help my sadness, help my hurting heart. And give me the courage to walk into each day whether or not I can see the glory, see the beauty, see the grace present. Whether or not I can feel your Holy Spirit walking me through. Because I know you are there and if I fall, you again will catch me.
From Nichole Nordman’s Woven and Spun album:
Send some rain
Would you send some rain
Cause the earth is dry
And needs to drink again
And the sun is high and
We are sinking in the shade
Would you send a cloud
Thunder long and loud
Let the sky grow black
And send some mercy down
Surely you can see that we are thirsty and afraid
But maybe not, not today
Maybe you provide in other ways
And if that’s the case
We give thanks to you, with Gratitude
For lessons learned in how to thirst for you
How to bless the very sun that warms our face
If you never send us rain