Sunday was the kind of deep rest that we all need once in a while. Skip preached at chapel in the morning, talking about giving God our all. His style contrasted and complemented beautifully with a young student who talked about sexual purity in passionate tones. As always, the students shone during their time of praise and worship, their hearts and bodies expressing joy and excitement with every movement.

We went home to hot monkey bread coming out of the oven and coffee with milk. A lazy Sunday breakfast. Visitors were few, time alone was plentiful. The sun had come out after days and days of rain and mud and the children spent the afternoon playing in their basins in bathing suits and slip-sliding on our tarp. I pulled from the fridge one perfect ripe watermelon carried home from Kampala and we sliced it into exact wedges and savored each amazing bite on our front steps in the heat of the sun. My soul drank up the day as my skin did the Vitamin-D-making rays. We played games, napped deeply without disruption and let our God meet us in some of the hurt.

Thank you for praying for us. Don’t stop.