Mondays have become one of the hardest and most rewarding days of my week. A full morning of staff meetings, a full afternoon of kids at the house and an evening dinner and book study with the female staff. I usually start Monday feeling excited, hit exhaustion and stress around six pm and then rejuvenate as I enjoy yummy dinner and great conversations with fellow women. I never knew I would find real friendships here, but they’re beginning.

We’re studying John and Stasi Eldridge’s book, Captivating. Subtitled “unveiling the mystery of a woman’s soul”, Captivating is a an amazing journey into the pain of women’s hearts and out into a walk based on redemption, grounded in healing. We are wounded people trying to heal ourselves in the most unhealthy of ways. Understanding our wounds, bringing our hearts to Jesus and being mindful of the pain and accepting the sadness can lead to true and lasting heart-health.

Last week the chapter talked about the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding so I invited all the women over on Saturday night to watch the movie with me, a real classic. It was a great look not only at how love brings out our beauty but also at cultural issues. Then, following our usual weekly routine of international meals (Italian pasta, American pot pie, Mexican tacos) last night we ate Greek food as a tribute to our movie experience. As usual God intervened to multiply my food and give me unusual creativity and resourcefulness so that an abundant and delicious meal came out of my meager resources. We ate home made pita bread (it’s easy!!) wrapped around chicken and veggies for gyros. Homemade yogurt went into the tzizdaki (sp ?) sauce which was also easy to prepare and delicious. We topped the meal off with a Greek salad but I didn’t get baklava made (no pistachios)!

Sitting and enjoying the dinner by candlelight last night I was so thankful for all the ways God enters my heart, my home and my fellowship times to bless, to pour out Himself to me and others. And a few minutes later as we talked about what it means to unveil the beauty of our souls as women, as we talked about vulnerability, about choosing to live rather than hide, about ceasing striving and embracing who He made us to be . . . I came very close to breaking into tears. Sometimes when these women talk the Holy Spirit comes so close to us that it is all I can do not break into tears of joy-pain.
Captivating reads:
” A woman of true beauty offers others the grace to be and the room to become.”

We unveil our beauty as we rest in who He made us to be and delight in sharing our true selves with others. This is a soul-ish beauty. Our unveiling of ourselves invites. Last night one of the women read a passage from the chapter and thanked me for unveiling myself enough to invite them in to my life and my home. And last night they also thanked me by unveiling some of themselves . . . In their unveiling I glimpsed more of their beauty and so it I who was blessed.

I cried this week when I opened our monthly donations statement from the mission, outlining the gifts given to Christ School in the last month. Several people had made large one time gifts, others had begun generous monthly giving amounts. It was an amazing answer to a daring prayer of faith: ” God provide for this school.” The prayer hasn’t ended yet, we are only at 50% of what we need each month for the school and we are desperate for more funding to keep our school running well. Still, 50% is amazing progress against the harsh realities of money amidst what is meant to be an eternally centered life. God showed us this month that he is at work in hearts and lives and that we can continue to trustingly ask Him to provide. I needed that, God knows I did.

I am currently reading a Scotty Smith book, Reign of Grace. In it he has a chapter titled Romantic Generosity which holds this quote: ” Giving isn’t the primary measure of our generosity, rather it a symbol of our joyful surrender to a lifestyle of stewardship, and a refusal to be seduced by the illusion of ownership.” I LOVE that, a refusal to be seduced by the illusion of ownership. Jesus owns me, but I have no need to own anything. I belong to the owner of the cattle on a thousand hills, He has enough to cover my needs.

When we left the States we got rid of almost all our possessions. One of the most striking things God did during that time was to softly and surely ask us to sell our home to friends at half of it’s value. We did it with very little thought, only the surety that He wanted them to have it and that what He provides will be enough for us. As if in response, we raised our one time needs and monthly needs for our personal support in record-breaking fashion – people giving quickly and generously, our not lacking a thing.

But some days I have wondered . . . . if we had sold that house for it’s true value, think of what that money could have done at Christ School? I have thought that perhaps that money could have been wisely spent to shore up our financial situation at the school, to provide for expansions. I have briefly and hesitantly questioned God’s calling on my heart in that situation – God did you REALLY know what you were doing? Yet I know that when I think that way I am thinking with the wisdom of the world; which says THAT much money can equal THIS much gain. God thinks bigger than that, his economy is about far more than finances. I know His plan is good even though I groan while waiting for the most needful of money for our project here.

I don’t want to be seduced by the illusion of ownership. I want to be owned by Jesus. I live in a house owned by the mission, drive a car owned by the mission, and accumulate some possessions, most of which will have to be given away when we someday leave this place, it’s not easy to transport things across continents. But I truly feel rich. We were asked last night by a friend, a short term missionary here, how we think we will live when we someday return to America. All we know is that we want not to be seduced by the illusion of ownership. We want to be rich in what we give away, rich in what we do not have. It’s amazingly freeing to be dependent on Him.

And we get to experience a little bit of God’s side of a love-drive economy. As people give generously and sacrificially of their resources to us here, we get to see how God uses that money in simple and practical ways and in stunning and surprising ways. We get to see money being used to buy real food for real stomachs that have often been hungry. And we get to see money used to provide class trips that open doors to visions and dreams that our students have never known to imagine. Most of all we are aware that the money you spend here does eternal work, impacts hearts, changes lives and directs destiny. Pretty amazing stuff.

I stumbled across a mirror this morning; the kind you find in Kampala stores. Thin, cheap, with a plastic frame and a particle board backing. Nevertheless I put it in Naomi’s room. Placed it carefully on her small desk and shelves – in a place of honor, a place where it must receive much use. I think a mirror is perhaps one of our best tools in growing . . . . .

When I was young my mother gave me a mirror. It belonged to her Gramma Alison, I believe. Small and rectangular – it had perfect mitered mirror corners within a notched and carved wood frame. Simple and elegant, the mirror had a slight waviness that evoked an aged beauty. It was one of a few treasured items that my mom passed on to me from her family. Each of these items carried for me, immense mystery and wonder. They were old, handled by people I had never met yet whose blood I carried within my veins.

I used to watch myself in that mirror for long minutes, many times a day. When I was very young I thought deep thoughts beyond my countenance. As I grew older I self-analyzed my looks and person inside and out. I criticized and judged myself relentlessly. It was looking in that mirror that I was most acutely aware of being alone within myself. Aware of my uniqueness, body, soul and spirit different from every other individual in the universe. I wondered what it might be like to know me, if I wasn’t myself.

The other day Naomi was smoothing back her hair and trying out a new bun. Spontaneously I blurted out for the millionth time in her young life, ” you’re SO beautiful.” Her response was equally spontaneous and vulnerable and captured me with the essence of our hearts; “mom, you know you and dad are the only people who say that to me.” So matter of fact was her statement, yet I can see where that thought goes. I too remember noticing as I grew that my mother was the one who told me daily how beautiful I was. And somehow Satan managed to twist that. As if my mother’s delight in my beauty somehow signified that I was less than lovely, that only she could find me so. How early the enemy of our souls begins his assault.

Yet yesterday, as Naomi spoke those words to me, I finally caught a new glimpse of the real picture. As my heart longed to respond to her heart, as I wondered how to explain to her why her mommy and daddy are the ones who most often tell her how beautiful she is; the image of my old mirror came into my heart and mind. That familiar rectangle, daily reflecting back my moods, my faces, even my soul. Those who see us most often, know us best. Dear daughter, I see your amazing soul, your gorgeous heart almost more than anyone else; and it only makes your appearance grow daily more beautiful.

A mirror symbolizes alone-ness so well. The being stuck with ourselves. We are never alone, we are always with our true selves. It gets wearying sometimes, doesn’t it? Yet the One who knows us best – our true Husband – has been watching us since before our birth. He sees us, flawed (cracked teeth and funny pinky toes and all) and yet finds us growing ever more beautiful as we approach our wedding with him. In our alone-ness, in the sense of not yet being known well, we are taunted by our soul’s enemy who says; “you are not enough” or perhaps ” you are too much”. You are not beautiful enough or too lovely and therefore dangerous. You are not talented enough or maybe too talented and therefore disliked. Yet God says, “you are my Beloved, the one I am waiting and longing and aching for. Just like you are lonely (for Me, you might not know that’s what you’re missing, but you’re lonely for ME), I am lonely for you. I desire to be completed by relationship with you. God is not incomplete, yet somehow He also aches for us, desires to be united with us.

I think all my life I have thought that I could escape loneliness, escape that fear of being alone. I have looked for soul-company in the most expected of places (a husband, deep friends, family) and in the most absurd (control, productivity, thinness.) But the feeling of aloneness has never really left me. It has been a haunting, subconscious presence throughout my life. Yet this weekend God showed me new things. Showed me the beauty of alone-ness, the truth and essence of why God created us fundamentally unique. I AM alone . . . I am a bride surrounded be dear friends and family, yet fundamentally alone in my prospect of marriage to the Husband who claimed me before time began. And who somehow can claim each of us in that special way. Somehow he meets the deepest needs of our hearts, and each of us, uniquely, meets the deepest needs of His. He is the only One who will know me perfectly, love me satisfyingly, fulfill me completely. I can embrace my alone-ness as I move towards Him.

I live inside the Christ School compound now . . . . We are fenced, gated and walled in, along with our students and staff and the rabbits and the goats too. It’s good for us to be fenced in – students study better without the distraction of marijuana and opium and waragi (local brew) and without free access to the village girls who are so easily impregnated.

Sometimes, though, I forget how the world looks outside. Perhaps I don’t make enough of an effort to move around, to visit the hospital and nutrition projects, to see local friends outside the gates. But inside we have many friends too, the yard is always full, the door always swinging and footballs always in play. Yet this world looks different from the one just outside our gate. Here, the babies are chubby, the preschoolers speak some basic Enlish and understand imaginary play. Mothers check in on their children with words, not palms raised in heavy-handed threat. Students move around with clean and whole uniforms and their bodies and skin show that they being fed and fed well, that their water is clean and that they have mattresses and nets.

WHM Bundibugo recently held the latest Kwejuna Distribution, where food provided by generous donors was distributed to over 100 positive moms and their babies. They are thin, weak, and impoverished and their lives have been taken over by a fatal, debilitating and disgraceful disease. These are “the least of these”, the ones who pull at your heart, who make you cry. Down at the health center are more of the least, small Biira whose malnutrition is devastatingly complete and those children born with open spines or suffering post-malarial brain damage.

Sometime I wonder what I am doing here within these walls when “the least of these” is right around the corner. When children are dying within word of my voice, I am here with those that are fed and well. But isn’t that why we’re here? To offer a cup of cold water in Jesus name – or an experiment on a never-before-imagined bunsen burner. To offer three meals a day when at home there may only be one. We are here to begin the work of Kingdom coming – in the lives of a few hundred at a time. Here they begin, just begin, to experience more of who they were created to be, to start to see the lives they will be able to touch. Our lesson in contrasts, the life lived on-campus vs the life lived off, allows our students to see that they desire more, that there is more to be desired. To see that life can be lived whole and well, that food can be enough, that their minds and hearts can grow strong. That they are believed in, valued, and worth healing and helping.

But the vision is even bigger . . . .We are in the business of multiplication here. Christ School is offering a foretaste of greater realities in Bundibugyo. A time when our students come back with a knowledge of what can be and how life can be lived. When they bring their skills, their knowledge, their integrity and their deep commitment to both their people and their God; and use all that to change the future for hundreds and thousands of the least in Bundibugyo. Someday we pray, nutrition and HIV projects will be staffed and directed by the Babwisi themselves, men and women of integrity and purpose who have the qualifications and knowledge to do the job well. The other day one of our students told me that she hopes to become a chemist and open a fertility clinic in Bundibugyo to help those who don’t even understand what infertility is. Amazing. Our students are on their way; from lives of abject poverty to this middle ground of struggle and promise and on to a future that is, we pray, both well-fed and poured out in abundance towards others.

Three BIG water tanks (10,000 liters each) showed up at the school on Saturday, the result of much prayer, hard work and the abundant grace of God towards the school. Like most of our neighbors, we access water from rain as well as a tap that runs water from a nearby fall through a gravity-flow system, to us. The problem is storage. With a population of 400 at the school, our existing concrete tank doesn’t store more than a day’s worth of water. And as is inevitable in Africa, disruptions to the central line that should provide a constant flow of water, are many, leaving us stranded with hundreds of sweaty athletes and no water to bathe them in. (Not to mention the usual needs of cooking and drinking!)

During our time at home in the fall, we raised money for an expansion of our water storing capabilities at the school. And upon arriving home we began making plans to start the project. Michael Masso, our water engineer on the team, tipped us off as we were budgeting again and preparing to start buying materials, that some free tanks may become available. Unicef gave these tanks to local primary schools in high-need areas of Uganda, but some schools never used those they were given, perhaps because they already had access to a tap. After numerous phone calls, meetings and requests David got access to request that schools donate their unused (and becoming damaged) tanks to CSB. A staff member approached leaders of schools with the all-important signed and stamped documents, and here we are, two months later with not one, but THREE 10,000 liter tanks, equal in value to almost half of our budget on the water project!!!

Work started two days ago and you can see in the pictures our old tank (still functional just not so pretty) and the space they are clearing beside it to install the new tanks. There is still significant cost in the installation process, but we are blown away by God’s amazing provision for our needs! Money has been freed up to combat other issues like the need for textbooks and latrines – Hooray!! Again, so many thanks to Mariners Church for funding our water storage project at CSB.

My latest read, The Mole People, by Jennifer Toth, tells the story of the underground tunnels of NYC and the people who live there. What a fascinating journey into a culture unlike any other, but no doubt replicated around the world in the tunnels under other mega-cities. These tunnels go down seven or more stories underground with old closed off waiting rooms and other abandoned places still inhabited by the unmentionables of society. She calls them mole people because that is how they are referred to by the “higher-class” above-ground homeless. Not quite human, they are deemed.

What a great reminder as we live in the midst of an immensely suffering people group, that there are those who suffer more or who suffer just as much, only differently. It’s so easy to get lost in our narrow perspectives of the worlds we inhabit, yet around the world and even in our own developed country, there are equally demanding fields of work, equally demanding needs. The problems of homeless people in big cities is perhaps far more challenging than what we face here on a daily basis. And I continue to be convicted and amazed at the similarities between sub-saharan Africa and modern day America. Poverty and great wealth side by side. Deep suffering prevalent and abundant but highly ignored in the search for pleasure.

Here they are in matching Spidey Suits and working on a bike engineering project. These guys are two peas in a pod. So sadly, Gaby is soon moving to Sudan, tentatively in October. It will be a heartbreaking change.

The Red Cross showed up last week asking to take blood from staff and students to combat the severe shortages in Ugandan blood banks. Most blood in Ugandan is accessed through secondary schools such as ours, but because of our remoteness, this is the first time we’ve been asked to participate.
Uganda’s Blood Bank truck rolled up during our weekly Assembly and gave amazed students more facts than they had imagined about blood and blood-giving to typically embarrassed jeering and laughter. (Did they just say MENSTRUATION?!) Some students were highly suspicious of the donation process, imagining that we were trying to find out their HIV status. I caught the tail end of the assembly when students were hovering between excitement and distrust and watched the tide flow towards excitement as the Red Cross worker asked ” how many are ready to donate blood??” A few hands shot up than more and more. The many staff hands raised drew more students in. Students 17 years and older who volunteered were given hemoglobin tests to determine eligibility to give. (I didn’t see a single student fail the hg test despite the local populations startlingly low rates, a good sign that we’re doing SOMETHING right with student feeding.) The biggest deal for students was the soda and sweet cookies they were given post-draw, a treat some students wanted badly enough to lie about their ages to the Red Cross workers. Surprisingly though, I felt students were truly excited about this opportunity to be a part of something bigger; to help.

David and I both donated despite scarily lax procedures which we didn’t expect: no gloves (too expensive, they said), and no hand washing between patients. We did confirm the single stick needle. Maybe we would have backed out, but having already subjected our students and staff we felt committed. This is the blood that I will be transfused with, should I need it here, I guess I’m going to have to trust these people.

Amidst the hardships of daily life at CSB it is good to see our students giving back – good that we are reaching out to help the many Babwisi so much less fortunate than those who have found their way here to Christ School. This blood will be tested in Fort Portal then will come back to save their own relatives lives at Nyhaku Health Center, only one-half kilometer away. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so good about giving blood.

Naomi’s school has begun meeting on the porch most afternoons where I delight to the sounds of small African English voices reciting the alphabet and the days of the week. Naomi reads them Bible Stories from her beginners bible and enjoys bossing her “students” around. She made the chart you see, modeled after Miss Ashley’s Kindy calendar at school. Bethany, Ben, Muroongi, Quinn and Patience are her students on this particular day.

We said goodbye to the interns this morning. How quickly the summer has flown. Jesse, Katy and Nick are off to new adventures but, we hope and pray, forever changed by their summer here. The mountains said goodbye in spectacular fashion, showing off snow-covered peaks that we rarely catch a glimpse of due to visibility. Here is the view from our front yard; snow in equatorial Africa – wonder and amazement around every corner. Katy, Jesse and Nick thanks for coming. Keep spreading the word so that others will pray.