Eating Alone

I am sitting next to a little Ugandan child named Lydia. Her mother adopted her last year after being encouraged by her little boys to 'save a child'. At almost two years old Lydia weighed only 19 pounds, now she ‘has three years’ and weighs probably more then some five year olds should weigh. Last night immediately after we got to the church, she picked my lap to crawl in and fall asleep. Her constant discomfort and subtle shifts made me giggle and brought me out of a state of exhaustion into pure joy. The past few days I have had many times where God whispers, 'This is how it is supposed to be'. 

            The first one came when I knew I needed to post on Instagram. I was laying in a twin bed that was not quite long enough. I was just beginning to sort through my pictures when Asia climbed in the bed with me and in exasperation placed her head on my chest. (I still think the best thing I have taught these kids is what “cuddle” means.) I put my phone away. Once I had asked Asia her testimony, but she wouldn’t share.  In this moment, tracing the word “Africa” on my shirt, she began to tell; 'Sydia, that is my real name. It is a Muslim name'. I did not ask anything, I just listened. She told me when she registered herself for our program she put Asia and never wants to be called Sydia again. She said everyone at school and church knows her as Asia, and “never wants to be Sydia”. I promised I would only call her Asia but said nothing more. We then had a tickle fight and stayed up a little past bedtime taking selfies.

            The next day we arrived at Anderson Mill Baptist Church in South Carolina. Although overjoyed with our new location, I was overwhelmed with a to do list. Being on the tail end of my journey with Africa Renewal Ministries my task list is odd. It includes all the things that fall under “my job” of accountant, then it includes all the small things the kids have asked for like more stationary and prayer time, and finally it has me desperately trying to piece together my future with lease agreements and scholarship applications. I had just pulled out my computer to begin, when Samson and Joshua begged me to let them swim. Before America our kids have never swam so they try to seize every opportunity. This day in particular it was pouring rain and 40 degrees outside. I closed my computer screen, grabbed a glass of water and an umbrella and they dragged me outside. I sat on the pool side attempting to save myself from the definition of soaked as Samson stayed in the shallow end just making sure he knew how to hold his breathe. Joshua dog paddled across the deep end with fear in his eyes. I was wet, but happy.

            Packing to leave The Mill, one of our oldest boys Innocent received hard news, in a way that was not ideal. I am not allowed to share but it shattered my heart and my desires transferred from wanting to be back in college, to wanting to be in Uganda providing for him and any other child that had ever been hurt in their life. I was calmed and brought to reality by a woman named Jena Penner who I admire and respect. She has lived in Africa and has seen it all. After talking to my heart, letting me vent, and encouraging me she reminded me to be ‘here’. At the time ‘here’ was standing in the rain, barefoot, in front of a one-room church in Camden, South Carolina, crying for a boy who at 14 is experiencing pain outside anything you could ever imagine.

The next morning we began worshiping and Innocent was still fighting, I could hear it in his silence. As a whole, our group was ideally "struggling" at worship. We couldn’t remember the song, Charles was strumming too fast, and Susan was clapping way off beat, at all times. After three songs I was caught in such a great heart of worship. We were singing (or speed talking) ‘Set a fire down in my soul, one I cant contain, one I cant control’ and then we all laid hands on Innocent to pray Ugandan style. I was reminded God provides anything but ideal situations and those 20 kids together in worship and prayer was perfect in its imperfections. I cried.

            Fast-forward to yesterday, when I am suppressing giggles during bed time devotion because my life is just right. Callie, a girl I met only a month ago, felt comfortable enough to go through my suitcase and come to devotion in my clothes. I couldn’t be mad because earlier in the day I had snapped at her with lots of attitude about giving me too much ice. We acknowledged this exchange of wrath with raised eyebrows. We are officially best friends. Earlier in the morning, I had taught the kids the story of Jonah. I had used analogies that ranged from Keith doing push ups to Martin needing help eating gold fish. Now, Wini was teaching our hosts Jonah with the same analogies that just didn’t quite sound right the second time. 

            I still haven’t posted on Instagram. My bank account is empty. I don’t have a bed or a car to get that bed to my new apartment. I care more about my kid’s hygiene then mine, and my leg hairs prove it. I started a blog about people and have not yet found time to write about someone.  I have six voicemails I haven’t listened to. I haven’t bought my return ticket from Africa because I am not sure I will ever want to leave. My purse ripped, and my pants are too big in the waste but too small in the hips. I still am writing my Easter cards. Then here I lay, with a Ugandan baby who two hours ago told me she wanted to nap and now we are playing air guitar with my feet, and God is still reminding me, 'This is how it is supposed to be'.

Innocent

 

Asia

Joshua (left) & Samson (right)

 

Callie Giersberg