Caitlyn Ssennyange

Well, it happened. I married the love of my life and best friend, and became Mrs. Eddy Ssennyange.

Being married has been the biggest blessing of my life to date. Our pastor told me in premarital counseling that "Eddy should be beyond compare with any other man" and he is. Eddy is the greatest, wisest, braves, most godly and compassionate man I know. I am beyond honored to be his wife, to serve at his side, and be his support in ministry and life for the rest of our days. I could not have anticipated the blessing that our union would be. Its a lot of fun little things, like cooking dinner for my husband, or staying up till 3 am talking because we have no curfew. It is not just joy, though there is an abundance of that. Its complete peace and wonder at the gift that marriage is. Its feeling God in new and exciting ways, feeling His love engulf and work in us daily as we start our new journey as One.

I have so much to say, and haven't posted in a long time. There have been many changes to ministry these days, and I am excited to update everyone. But for a moment, I just want to stay here and savor this new blessing. And don't worry... we have pictures :)

There Once Was a Boy...

His name was Yahaya. I have written about him before, here. He was known all through Kampala and Uganda as one of the most hopeless street children. I don’t know how long he lived on the streets, but I know it was most of his short life.

Today I got the call that Yahaya had died. I am heartbroken, and I am angry. I am writing this not to tug on heartstrings, or exploit his death. I am writing this to reveal the very brutal injustice that was Yahaya’s life, and how his Father feels about his death. When God knit Yahaya together in his mother’s womb, His plan was not death. Our God wanted us to choose to love Him, but we chose sin. Yahaya lived in a world that is broken by sin, and he suffered.

I fought for Yahaya on Jesus’ behalf, as did all of API and many other organizations in Kampala. Everyone loved him, and wanted to show him that he was special, worthy to be loved. I remember the day we brought him into our API home, how he ran and jumped into mine and Abby’s arms, so overjoyed that he was home. I also remember the disappointment of his running away later that night. We loved him. We fed him at our programs, and when I started Joseph’s House, it was with a few boys -including Yahaya- in mind. But no matter what I said, Yahaya was too broken by the time we started the home. He didn’t believe he was loved or wanted. I spent many nights in Kisenyi before we opened, looking for him, trying to show him how much I cared. I remember sitting in a restaurant, across a table with him, feeding him fried chicken and talking to him about how I had to go to America to fundraise, but that I was going to help him get off the streets when I got back. He told me “that would be good, because I have suffered a long time. I want to live in a home”. And he did, but he felt unworthy to do it.

The last time I saw Yahaya, he was almost dying of gangrene in his foot, which had been hit by a car. It was broken and infected, and I held his hands and let the nurse peel away dead skin. He was so high on chenge that he hardly cried, only wincing. I asked him during that last interaction if he would want to come into Joseph’s House (this was about 2 months ago). He told me no, that he just wanted to go back to Kisenyi. He told me he belonged there, and it was his only home. The nurse came in and told us that he would die if he didn’t take his antibiotics. We explained to him what that really meant, and how he needed to keep it clean and take his medicine. I asked him again if he would come home so he could get better.

He laughed, and told me “no auntie. I am sleeping on the streets tonight. Nobody loves me, and when I die I will die on the streets”. It was in that moment that I knew, in his heart, he had lost all hope.

Yahaya was born into a broken world, and until late in his childhood, he had never been loved by anyone. When he actually did find people who loved him, Satan had already begun working poison and lies deep into his heart. Jesus tried to love him. I tried to love him. Abby and David and API tried to love him. But he was lost.

I don’t know how old Yahaya was exactly, but he was tiny, the size of a 10 year old. He was malnourished and probably had TB. I cannot say he lived a good life, or died in peace or amongst friends. He was young, and he died a painful death in a slum. I would like to say that I know for sure he went to heaven, but I don’t know. I would like to say he has found peace in death, and is with his Father. My heart truly wants to believe that, and I know God is good and fought for Yahaya in life so He would also care for him in death. But I just don’t know.

What I do know is that I HATE sin, and the brokenness that infects this world. I hate that sin could win such power over Yahaya’s life. I hate that he never felt loved. It breaks my heart. I know that Jesus has won the fight for eternity, but we have a job too. Injustice is a battle, and we are fighting a very real fight of God’s love and eternal souls. These broken children are real. They cannot live forever on the streets. God’s heart is hurting for Yahaya, and mine is too.

If you love Jesus, then follow His calling. Wherever you are, whatever God has put on your heart, don’t waste this time He has given you. Take care of His sheep, feed and clothe Him by loving those He loves. Take up your cross, and start fighting the good fight.