Its All Okay

Last night at the younger boys home, two of our kids got in a fight. It was after I did art therapy with them, and they were all pretty tired. Add to that they hadn't had dinner yet, and a bunch of 8yr olds can get pretty grumpy. The fight was between Enoch and another boy whom I am going to call Champ in this post (its my nickname for him).

Champ is the smallest boy in our homes. Not the youngest, but definitely the smallest. He had a really hard time on the streets being so small, and because of that he has adopted the toughest demeanor of any of the younger (and most of the older) boys in the homes. Nobody messes with Champ, and nobody picks on him. I’ve never even seen him actually loose his temper, but his threats are enough apparently. He demands respect and attention, because that is the way he sees himself. A few weeks ago, I made a breakthrough with this little guy. See, he is not very affectionate because he doesn’t want people to see him as needy. He rarely seeks out attention from adults. But my breakthrough came when I had a moment alone with him. I asked him a lot of questions, and one of them was about ways he felt loved. Turns out he really needs physical touch- he just doesn’t want anyone to know it :) After that, we turned a new leaf and he became my little buddy. Sometimes he doesn’t even say anything, he just wants to be near me... and I love it.

So last night when Champ was in this fight, he got hurt pretty badly. Me and Uncle Peter came in the house to find him sobbing on the floor, holding his stomach where he had been kicked. Not wanting to cry in front of the others, he crawled off outside to be alone. I demanded that the other boys go inside for dinner, and then I followed Champ. I found him in a ball on the veranda outside the house, crying hysterically. I sat down with him, and pulled him into my lap; I knew I was doing something right because he didn’t resist. He continued to cry, and I just sat with him, rubbing his back and telling him it was okay. He had finally calmed down to the point I could talk to him, and so I leaned down and whispered words I think he has needed to hear his whole life...

“Champ, I know you are so so strong. You are brave, and tough and everyone knows how strong you are. But you know, even very strong people need to be sad and cry sometimes. And I want you to know that I will always love you, and think you are very brave. But you can always come to me, and cry and be sad or angry and tell me. And I wont tell anyone, I promise. But you should know its okay to be yourself around me”

As soon as the words had left my mouth, this precious little boy collapsed in a fresh round of sobs. He leaned into me, and let go, completely. He cried and cried until he was coughing and choking, and I just held him. And I told him I loved him over and over, and silently prayed for him. Eventually he cried himself out, and we just sat there in silence for a long time. When he was ready, we went inside and had dinner. Here is what was beautiful about this moment; I really think Champ had needed to feel that safety and trust, and it was maybe one of the first times he had. He has never been allowed to be a child. He had never been loved before he came to our homes; he was horrifically beaten by his father who left him to die. He has only ever known what it means to look out for himself, and that didn’t allow for falling apart. Or for being a child. Or for trusting another person.

We make breakthroughs like this every day here at A.P.I. We get to teach a child to trust, and to love. God uses us to heal. Sometimes my job is hard, and I feel overwhelmed pretty much all the time. But its all okay, honestly its all totally worth it. Because in moments like the one I had with Champ, true healing happens, and I know we are doing something really good. And I helped a beautiful little boy who needed to be loved SO badly.

I love my life :)

God = Love

So the other day I was in this shopping center buying DVDs. There is a particular woman I usually buy from, because she is fair and her movies are clean. I was browsing through the kids movies, and she asked me if I wanted some Disney movie (I think it was the Lion King). Without thinking, I told her “no, my kids already have that one”. It was no big deal, but after that she kept eying me, and I know she was thinking “you look to young to have kids”. She looked very concerned, and I was trying not to laugh. Although the woman doesn’t know the whole story, the truth is that these are my kids. These precious children are the reason God brought me to this place, probably why He put me on this earth. They are the delights of my life.

I know what it means to be fully invested in your children’s lives. I’ve felt that “2 am and my kid is super sick, what do I do?” panic all moms understand. I know what it means to hurt when they do, and beam at their accomplishments. What its like to desperately want to make a better choice for them, while knowing you’ve got to let them figure things out for themselves. I have had the honor of loving a child for the first time in their lives- to be among the first adults to cherish them. And while its sad, its also wonderful to be able to offer all of my heart to a little boy. That he gets to know for the first time an adult will love him forever, no matter what.

I know what it feels like to be amazed that you could possibly love someone so much- so infinitely deeper than you ever thought possible. To stare at a child and be at a loss for words because God created someone so utterly perfect and beautiful. And its kinda terrifying, and also incredible.

The other day, one of our volunteers did a devotion at street programs. She talked about John 3:16 and how “God so loved the world that He gave His one and only son” and it was one of those moments when you hear something old for the first time. I could quote that verse upside-down and backwards in my sleep. Its on bumper stickers and coffee mugs. Its great, and simple little summary of what God did for us. Except there is actually so much more packed into that verse, and we need to read it the way it was intended to be read. Its not a summary of what God did for us as much as its a summary of His heart and character. He loved His only son, the same way any parent loves their child; in that mind blowing, endless and all consuming way. And its God we are talking about, so whatever I can feel for my kids is only a small piece of the depth of His love. And even still, He loved us. Could you (parents reading this) make that sacrifice? I don’t think I could...

I love my kids because God gave me His heart for them. Because God loves them. And God loves me equally infinitely. And He loves the world, each person, that same way. And He loves His son. All this to say that I think that passage in John is really trying to convey one outstanding characteristic of our Father: His love is so deep and so wide we will never know the depth of it, because God is love.

Little Defenders

I think I am probably the safest American in Uganda. Honestly.

Recently, while at the church in Kivulu, I got some news that made me both very upset and angry. So angry that (to my complete embarrassment) I began to cry. Now, programs had not started yet, so the only boys around were some of the older ones. These are the "tough guys", who are sometimes distant and not openly affectionate. They don't particularly engage in conversation with me, and mostly keep to themselves. Trying not to make a scene in front of them, I stepped into our container to breathe (our container is a shipping container that we keep lots of things for our programs in; the inside is for "staff only"). While hiding, I heard a tapping at the door. It was the group of older boys outside; turns out I was not fast enough, and they had seen me crying. Instead of teasing me, or joking about how upset I was, they asked me what was wrong. The conversation went like this...

Boys (very concerned): Auntie, what happened?

Me: Nothing, someone just made me really angry and hurt my feelings.

Boys: Who was it? Tell us, so we can go beat them for you! We will make them sorry for this!!

Me: No, its okay. I just need a minute to calm down. I will be okay if I can be alone for a second.

Boys: Okay, we will protect you. Nobody is allowed in the container until you're done. We will guard you!!

After that, for the next 10 min, literally nobody was allowed in the container. Not the other boys (who were helping cook, or had left bags or clothing inside while they were bathing). Not the uncles, who were pretty frustrated at being locked out when they knew I was upset inside. The boys didn't bother me, they just guarded me. When I eventually did come out, they stayed close to me for the rest of the afternoon. They didn't really talk to me, but I know they were looking out for me.

Sometimes, people think that my job leads me to dangerous places. They worry that working with street kids puts me at risk; I assure you, it is the complete opposite. There is no safer place for me in Kampala then in the slum where I work. See, street kids are their own secret society. I am beyond blessed and honored to be allowed acceptance in it. Being their own society, they are very protective- after all, if they don't look out for each other then who will? Street kids may steel and fight with other street kids, but if anyone else dares get involved they are in serious trouble! This protection applies to me as well. Furthermore, in the slum where I work, most people know me. I walk down the street, and strangers shout out "Kate, you're welcome!" They know me, and my work, and why I do it. Men may make comments, but for the most part they are not disrespectful. Once, while walking to the church, a drunk man grabbed my arm. About 4 other guys instantly stepped in, and shoved him off me. They know I am there to help, and they respect that. Also, Ugandans are just kind in that way- they look out for each other.

But beyond the average Uganda, my kids look out for me. There is never a time I feel safer or more confident than while walking with a group of my kids. They know the city better than anyone else. They know who is good, and who is bad. They don't let people disrespect me. They would honestly fight till their last breath to protect me. They are mine, and I am theirs. I take care of them. I bandage wounds, and feed them, and read to them and play games. And in return they show me their love and appreciation in their own way.

They are my little defenders, and its the greatest honor they could give me.

New Faces, Old Faces

Me and Kato

So we’ve had some new additions to our family here! Last week we brought not one but THREE boys home :) Two of them are returning, and the third was a first timer.

The first boy is Kato Charles. Kato, now 14, had been in the home in Kivulu when it first opened. He was totally not ready to stay- he was so broken and unruly. He didn’t even last one night because he had to leave so he could get more drugs. But over the past few years, Kato’s transformation can only be called a miracle. Its hard for a boy who has been on the streets as long as Kato (I think his total was coming to 7 years) to really make a transformation. Usually, by that time the streets have hardened whatever soft, vulnerable places a boy has left. These kids go from trauma to more trauma, so the fact that Kato became instead more loving and open is amazing! He was the cleanest street kid ever, always trying to polish his shoes and wash his clothes. He devoted himself to our lessons, always paying attention and answering questions. Watching him over the past few months has broken my heart; I was watching the light of hope go out of his eyes (I blogged about him earlier this summer). I wanted so badly for him to come home, and I felt God assuring me he was going to be in an API home again. But knowing that, I was totally unsure of how or when. Sure enough, Abby called me last week and told me her and David had heard God telling them Kato was to come home. Honestly, my heart hurts with the joy I feel every time I see his beaming face at our home. He LOVES it, and he really deserved it.

The second boy was Enoch, who is one of the most broken kids I’ve ever worked with. I first fell in love with Enoch this past December. He came to programs one day sick with fever, and I spent the next few hours with him at the hospital as he was treated for malaria. He was so tiny, so breakable in my arms. Weak and sick, he just wanted someone to love him. But it became clear as soon as he began gaining his strength that he was tougher than he appeared. That is the word I would use to describe Enoch- tough. He is probably only 9, and skinny as a pole, but Lord does that child have fight in him! When I said goodbye to him in Dec, I knew he was not ready to come into the home. But my prayers were answered soon after, when Abby and David got back to Uganda in Feb. They heard that most of the boys in our programs had been brought by Enoch- he had spread the word! He was coming regularly, and participating and had great behavior. Looking hopeful, he was brought home.

Enoch in Dec, sick with Malari

Unfortunately, the adjustment was to much for him. He crashed and burned pretty quickly, and soon he was back on the streets. It broke my heart to see him back in the same place I found him in December. He was high a lot, filthy, and always fighting. He didn’t come to programs most days, being busy in the other slum (the worse slum) Kisenyi. It says a lot about the state of a boy, where he is living. There are “good” and “bad” places to live as a street kid. Wandegyre is the best place. The cleaner, gentler boys live there. Kivulu is the next level. There are tougher crowds there, but still most of the boys who live in the slum come to our programs, and we know them. Its still a much harder neighborhood than Wandegyre, but a lot nicer then Kisenyi. Now Kisenyi is the worst, and the most dangerous. Its where the boys who want nothing to do with us live. The boys who are content doing drugs all day, and fighting all night. Its to dangerous for us to even work in most of the time (even with escorts, its hard to do ministry there). Most new boys go to Kisenyi, but the ones who want help move into Kivulu or Wandegyre eventually. Its rare to backslide from Wandegyre to Kisenyi (like Enoch did). Praise Jesus though, because Enoch has shown vast improvement over the past few weeks. We decided he was doing well enough to come home again, and now he is safe and back in Bombo. Please continue to pray for Enoch, that he would be able to stay in our homes, and would not run again.

The last boy we took was Bob. I love this child a lot. Like Kato, God told me that Bob was going to come home, and sure enough he placed the same thing on Abby and David’s hearts. Bob is about 9, and the sweetest kid. He had been in our programs for some time, and was working really hard. He was always helping with organizing things, or doing dishes or serving food. We noticed Bob, and his good heart, and so did God. Now sweet little Bob is in Bombo. He looked so happy when he first showed up! He couldn’t wait to show me all the new shoes and clothes he had, and he made sure they were super clean.

I am so content these days. I am in love with our children. I am so joyful that our family is growing every day. I thank God for providing for these boys, and for bringing them to us. Even as we rejoicing here in Uganda, I know Heaven is also rejoicing. God’s precious children are safe and they are home.

Sing Praise

So this past week, my Davis (UCD and church) community was rocked by the death of one of our own. A member of my college group, Linnea, had been missing since before I left. It was known that she had a mental break, and wasn’t doing good when she disappeared. The search went on for over 2 months, and finally resulted in the discovery of her body over this past week.

I will admit that when she first went missing, it occurred to me that she may not come home. I searched as much as I could in the days prior to my leaving for Uganda, but there was a lot of hope in that time. The searchers and her family had a lot of faith, and there was potential sightings of her. I gave it up to God, and let go. I honestly believed she would eventually come back. That said, it was a shock when she was discovered dead; thinking she couldn't win against the pain she was feeling, she decided to end her life.

Linnea was a beautiful 19yr old who’s life was full of potential and love. I am thankful that she was a believer, and that we have God’s promise of salvation and eternity with her. My job, the place I live, the things I see do not allow for doubt of God’s goodness. If I question the character of my King, I loose everything. Its so hard though, when something terrible happens. When a child I love dies, or cannot come into our home, or is raped. When I see people starving, or witness horrible things. When a beautiful, young college comitts suicide.

A few years ago, I had the privilege of serving at camp with a family who had just lost their baby. Jarrod, the husband, is a pastor. This couple had two boys, and were well loved in their community. But their youngest son, Tyler, never woke up from his nap one day. I met them exactly three weeks after their four month old baby died. Three weeks! They had already been speaking at another camp before ours... this couple had amazing faith. I remember talking to Jarrod about it one night after campfire, about how they were getting through it.  What he told me changed my view of God forever.

Jarrod told me that at Tyler’s funeral, he and his wife could hardly stand because of their grief. Even though they were weak, they stood with hands lifted high praising God. He told me that some days, all he could tell God was how angry he was. How betrayed by God he felt, and how much he was hurting by God’s choice. But through the pain and the anger, he continued to praise Jesus. He said 

“People die every day. Every day, someone’s child is lost, and people are starving and hurting and broken. That is the world we live in, and it always has been. What kind of hypocrite am I, that today, when I am the one being effected by this broken world, suddenly the character of God changes? God never changes. I sang His praise last month when it was someone else's child, because He is good and holy. And I will sing His praise today when it was my child, because He is still good and holy. God is always God”

I thought it then, and I think it now- how true. How much more should I praise God through my pain, because He never changes. He is and was and always will be. Death hurts, but God won that fight for us. Death may hurt, but it cannot destroy anymore. And there is joy and hope and goodness in that... and that is the true character of God.

Bushenyi (Where the Honey is)

Sorry for the delay in posting. Things here haven’t been super exciting and I had the flu a few days ago, so that further postponed what I wanted to post about.

Last week we took one of our boys Emma to visit his family. He really loves his step mom, but her new husband wouldn’t let him stay when they got married. His village is in a district called Bushenyi, and they are famous for their honey. Its about 14 hours round trip, and we did it in one day! We wanted the day to be really special for him, so me and Abby and uncle Abdul packed lots of snacks and made special playlists on my ipod for him. We drove and drove in my 20 year old car (what a trooper!). We made it there and back totally safe and without car troubles, which is a miracle.

** Side Note** I was blown away by the difference between going west and north in Uganda. I’ve driven the same distance north, and the effect is totally different! In the west, where we went, things are developed. There are homes and little towns the whole way. There is infrastructure and gas stations and its not the middle of nowhere! In the north, its totally the opposite. The country is still totally devastated by the war. There are refugee camps, and stick mud huts, and hours without seeing a building. Its tragic and also amazing how one tiny country (Uganda is about the size of Oregon) can be so divided. ***

Back to my story.. So although the day was super long, it was totally worth it to see the smile on Emma’s face when he saw his family :)

Emma is a really special boy. People who come on teams always remember him, because once you know him and his smile, he’s impossible to forget. He is really good at knowing when people are hurting, and cheering them up. He wants to be a comedian, and honestly has a gift. He is REALLY funny, and knows how to make any audience laugh. He takes super good care of me too. One of my first memories of Emma is from when I first came with the FBC team. I had been walking in the slum all day, and when I got to the boys home my feet were really dirty. Emma lead me out to the back, and washed them for me. It was the most humble of acts from a boy who the world had turned their back on. He was really mistreated, and his family dysfunction is through the roof. He suffered a lot on the streets, but is still so open to love.

Emma is an example of how God’s love can heal and redeem. Even though they hurt him, Emma still loves his family and desires to know them. That is how God feels about us too.. we love a God of reconciliation. Altogether, it was a long but good day in the land of honey.

A Day in the Life...

So we had an awesome volunteer come last week. Michael was only here for a short time, but he was able to do SO many incredible things. He spent time building up and encouraging our staff. He counseled the ladies in our Hope program. And he spent time with the boys.

One thing we have been wanting to do for a long time is take pictures documenting the life of a street kid. Its always a problem because when a white girl does it, everyone stops doing what they normally do. We cause a scene, basically. So me and Abby and whomever else can't do it. But Michael, being a guy, fit in much better. People also don't like it when you take their picture, because they feel exploited. But we aren't taking their pic to show "sad poor Africans". We do however want to show what its really like to be a street kid- all the brutal realities that go with it. Michael was able to be really discrete in taking pictures. His eyes weren't jaded, and he captured a lot of little details that others may miss.

These pictures are now on a public album on my Facebook. They will also be on  Aperfectinjustice.blogspot.com. A picture is worth a thousand words...



Click here to see my Facebook album