I
realize I have spent a lot of time sharing and writing about events and
experiences, but it has been some time since I have expressed anything of a
deeper nature. I suppose, because for the last 5 or so months, I have been
generally quite contented and at ease, I haven’t felt the need.
I
will be leaving this place in 2 months and though that is still a good chunk of
time, compared to the time that’s past, it feels to be flying by at an
impossible speed. Instead of feeling a healthy combination of excitement and
apprehension, it feels like more of a combination of joy, longing and fear with
a bit of anxiety thrown in for good measure.
I
have no doubt that this tension has been compounded by a long series of cloudy
mornings which, in turn, keeps the kids undercover and screaming outside our
bedroom window by 7:30am each morning and the fact that the time I’m spending
to write this is the first I’ve spent on my own since I got back from Zanzibar.
All of this conflicting emotion has left me extremely contemplative, nostalgic
and a little run down. I’ve been picking apart my relevance here, the
contributions I’ve made… Have I made an impact? Left a mark? Has this time been
worth something? I’ve been examining myself… Have I changed? For the better or
otherwise? My relationships… Have I made a good enough effort to maintain my
friendships from home? Should I have put more effort into deepening the
friendships I’ve made outside of our home? Is there even a point anymore? I’ve
been looking to the future… Will I struggle to adjust? How long will it take?
Do I want things to be just how they were before? And the big one… Will I be
back?
Regardless
of the answer to that question, it will be good to be home. It is certainly
draining to live in a transient home/community where you’re regularly either
going through the first stages of knowing someone or saying goodbye to someone
you’ve grown to care for deeply. It’s draining to live in a dorm room with 2-5
other people no matter how well you get along. It’s draining to fear the lack
of adequate medical care, not so much for myself as I have peace in the fact
that my life is in the hands of God, but for our kids. It’s hard to know that
some of them have medical conditions that are serious and unpredictable and
have the potential of going bad very quickly and we’d be powerless to provide
the level of care that is needed. Selina is a perfect example of that and that
is not something I am eager to experience again. It is also draining to fear
the corruption, the lack of justice and the atrocities that take place so close
to our home.
There
are days when I feel the compassion and kindness that I’d hoped would be
fostered and grown within me has been replaced by a bitterness and cynicism
that scares me.
For
one, this place has shattered my views on adoptions but I can hardly go into
that without it turning into a 3 page diatribe that would shock anyone with a feeling
heart. All I will say is that if you feel that by adopting internationally, we
are somehow “saving” these children or that a child in an orphanage is there
because they have no one else to care for them, then we need to have a
conversation. I have seen firsthand the acute damage this type of thinking can
cause. It is saddening to me that the reality and truth I’ve been exposed to
has caused me to recognize that we have perverted yet another thing that God
intended for good. Instead of integrity, there is selfishness; instead of
compassion, there is greed…instead of humanity, there is human trafficking.
Secondly,
the amount NGO’s and resources in Jinja makes it very unnecessary for children
to beg in the streets and not only do they know it, but giving them money
actually perpetuates the problem. So when a child approaches me and says,
“Auntie, I’m hungry…” and puts out their hands, do I feel love and compassion
for this child? No. I feel annoyance and impatience. Given that a good number
of these kids aren’t needy at all and just don street clothes and puppy eyes to
take advantage of the tourists - and I’ve had more than one occasion where a
refusal has been answered by a harsh word or a rude gesture – I suppose I
should give myself a break, but it still doesn’t feel good to be so hardened.
And
to round it off, there is the pettiness I have seen within the community here
and the added joy of recognizing prejudices within myself that I find both
puzzling and disgusting; like the absurd idea that Ugandans somehow don’t love
their children the same way we do. It is certainly not for me to judge conduct
especially given that a parent’s desire to give away a child with special needs
often has more to do with a lack of resources, finances, and deep-rooted
superstition and a mother’s ability to carry on after the death of a child is a
necessity for survival; as is the general resilience in the face of immense
suffering that is so evident here…we don’t know suffering, so I suppose that
makes it easy to mistake strength for indifference.
This
all is not in any way a summary of my experience here; it is just an
explanation of why there are days when I am simply tired; this is just half of
the story. My time here has also been filled with daily joy and laughter and I
have seen an abundance of love and compassion shown and received and God has
been his usual faithful self. He has been answering general prayers as well as
the continual prayer that he establish within me a spirit of humility and a
confidence in who I am. It seems I have difficulty balancing those two
attributes as when I am confident, I am proud and when I have been humbled, I
second guess myself constantly.
I
suppose I can expect that these things will never quite resolve as my personality
has me constantly examining myself but one of the most encouraging and
foundational things that I’ve learned is that humility is not about simply
feeling differently…you will never just suddenly be someone who is completely
unaware of yourself and those things that nurture your pride. It’s about
choices. If I am serious about wanting to serve God with a humble heart, I will
make choices daily to do so. This means I will apologize first even when my
pride tells me I should not be the one to do so, this means I will choose to
clean up a mess when my pride tells me it’s not my problem, this means I will
choose to love and bless and pray for someone even when I am annoyed or when my
pride says they don’t deserve it; and all this without bitterness. I feel that
if my pride has hardened my heart like a stone in my chest, each time I choose
love over pride, I am choosing a chisel and hammer over a rag and polish and
allowing God to take care of the rest. I look forward to the day when this
conflict is no longer a driving force in my life.
So,
how am I? I suppose I am in a state of preparing my heart to leave and trying
to keep myself from spending time picking apart every last moment and feeling
guilty about the things I wish I’d done more or less of. That is far from
productive, I know that. I am also trying to be conscious of not shutting down
or hiding away as a way of protecting my heart because that is wasted time and
I would regret it. So, for now, I will just continue doing what I’ve been
called here to do and do my best to take advantage of every last moment.
One last thing: A couple days ago Emily H came into our room and nonchalantly mentioned that some boys had been to the gate trying to sell us a baby monkey. I dropped what I was doing and ran outside, hoping I hadn’t missed them and laughing as I ran given that Emily had called out behind me that if I brought it in, she was moving out. It was starting to rain and the boys were heading off to find cover, but I selfishly delayed them and got to hold the little guy. He gripped his little arms and legs around my hand and wrist and let me stroke his furry head. I know it seems ridiculous to compare this to seeing Zanzibar or the birth of a child, but it was definitely up there on my list of cool experiences.
Just some random photos:
At church. It's been quite rainy lately...no one should be surprised at this photo...
Dance/dress-up party...so cute...and yes, Jason is wearing a sparkly dress...
Just a shot out the front window of Job's car on the way to Kampala...
