I did it, I actually wrote something....

Here's an update with words.  All I really want to do is upload a few pics and call it a day.  But I know that I'm being lazy and not pushing through it.  Some days I feel like heading straight to Entebbe and boarding a flight (most recently - yesterday).  Other days (most days) I can't see myself leaving at the end of my current contract in late January.  It's a weird place.  One year contracts allow you to grow roots in a place, but it doesn't allow you to fully become a citizen.  Plans are still short-term and relationships don't quite mature before you're looking at the calendar again.  But I'm fortunate.  A volunteer passing through Uganda for two weeks remarked that he would love to stay longer to really feel Uganda.  People that barely know me say these things that stick with me.  They say things that I contemplate long after they're gone.  The guest house fills and empties, people come and go.  I measure time by a volunteer's stay - noticing that it's been 2 weeks or two months since this random person showed up and is now preparing to leave to go back home.  That's the only time that I really think about it.   

The CUREkids work at the hospital is smooth.  An intern has been helping us out for the last two months and I've had time to finish other things because of his hard work.  He finishes his internship in 2 weeks and it will be back to a 2 man team again.  My colleague and translator, Edwin, is doing really well.  The CUREkids job has it's challenges - we often have trouble when children miss follow-up appointments.  It's tough tracking children down with unreliable cell numbers.  But we do the best we can which translates to genuinely caring about the kids and the moms.  The storytelling & photography part of the job is extremely important but being here for our patients/guardians trumps everything.  

Since I've been in the country, I've gotten sick twice.  The last bout was malaria and it was awful.  I missed 2 days at the hospital and felt sluggish and weak for another 3 or 4 days.  I've started running again - short runs - 3 or 4 miles on the weekend.  I've continued with Insanity and try to make it to the house gym about 3 times weekly. 

A friend of mine asked why I don't settle here and marry a Ugandan.  He told me to pick one and go with it.  I told him that I'm not opposed to dating Ugandans (truthfully) but the cultural differences would be a major obstacle.  And I don't just think that exclusively about Africans, I think it's true for a number of cultures that involve deep traditions and major cultural differences.      

I miss chicken wings and raw fries.  I've been told that I'm a horrible communicator twice in the last week, I know that I can be better.  Seasons are measured by growth and change here.  The weather doesn't vary.  I'm constantly tired here.  I have developed a serious love for Indian dishes.  I still struggle to do things with other people, sometimes it's a challenge to not be alone.  I think about what it would be like to meet Jesus in the street.  What would he say to me?  I hope that he would tell me that I'm doing lots of things wrong but I've got one thing right.  Loving him and loving other people because of him.           


Listening:
Mimicking Birds - Eons
Dustin Kensrue - The Water & The Blood
Everytime I Die - From Parts Unknown
Weatherbox - Flies in All Directions
Braille - Native Lungs
Jay-Z - Reasonable Doubt
Margot & The Nuclear So and So's - Slingshot to Heaven

Reading:
The Meaning of Marriage - Tim Keller

Watching:
The Newsroom season 2
Mad Men season 1

    

Outreach CURE clinic in Kampala...

from the miscellaneous folder...

the smell of rain....

It's raining.  But I know I will see the sun again.  Things are dark.  The clouds are mounting.  There is retreating and refuge.  There is a scramble for cover.  There are patches of chaos as people pack their things.  The sky grows darker.  But I know I will see the sun again.  

This is my relationship with the Lord.  I KNOW he's there, I know he will not forsake me.  But I still fear the storm.  I still fear the darkness.  I KNOW he will get me through it.  But I ask, how long.  How long will you leave me here?  How long will it pour?  How long must I take refuge in this damp place, void of light.  How long must I wait?  Knowing it will pass is not enough for me.  I need dates, times - I need details.  But why?  I need to trust HIM and knowing the exact route won't save me.  He will save me.  He wants me looking to him, not my watch or calendar.    

This analogy translates anywhere but it really gets me here during rainy season.  The fact that I get to live in a place that has a "rainy season" should be reason to rejoice honestly.  It's beautiful.  Sure, it gets sloppy and I get stuck places on my bike.  I've been soaked to my core countless times.  But, the rain is powerful and healthy and a reminder of God's provision.  It's rain or death here for lots of people so it's kinda of a big deal.  I have learned to love it.  I look forward to it.  I get stuck just watching massive sheets pour across the lawn.  I love watching it sweep in from the mountains and slowly cover town.  I love the minute that people feel rain drops.  It's like a switch, things are packed, cars and bikes are moved, cover is taken.  And then the wait.  We know the sun will be back.  But we have to wait.

I don't really know what I'm being taught until I look on it.  I don't really know what decisions are being influenced until I backtrack.  I don't hear an audible voice from the almighty, he doesn't send me perfect visions or undeniable signs.  He nudges my heart.  In a very subtle but effective way.  He uses my downtime to help me process, ponder and speculate.  In the grand scheme of things, he uses the storm to let me know he's there.  He uses the storm to slow me down.  He uses the storm to pull me close.  When Mark things he's good and has it all figured out, he just lets me know he's in control and his power is displayed in the storm.  

So, I'm going to wait this one out in the comfort of a coffee shop.  But it's getting late and they are closing soon.  Will the downpour be kind and stop in the next few minutes?  Will I be a soaking mess when I reach home tonight?  There's no way to possibly know when it will stop.  But I will see the sun again.  He promised me that.


The Lord is a stronghold for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble.
Psalm 9:9