Coloring Their World

This is where I wipe the paint off my hands and post pictures of our murals.

It’s not every day you are given a party napkin for inspiration, colorful paint and told to paint all over the white walls. But, it happened to us. We’ve had so much fun creating beauty for the children. Anything to make their lives brighter and to add beauty to their days.

It’s been great to work together on this as a team with Delmar.  I’m creative and adventurous; he’s neat and particular — we complement each other perfectly in art adventures.  ( I wish we could paint walls together for the rest of our lives! I love that God gave me an artistic husband!)

The finished project in the boys room. We painted an exact replica in the other boys bedroom. How can I capture the joy and excitement on the kids faces as they see the cheerful animals “come to life” on their walls? I can’t, but trust me: it makes your heart do funny things.

I couldn’t resist adding another monkey jumping out of their doorway with a handful of balloons.

And the girls couldn’t be left out. We painted another monkey holding a bouquet of flowers. A purple bow was added to Miss Monkey’s head for another feminine touch.

We are still painting. Our last mural is a bundle of balloons flying in the babies room. No pictures of that yet. It’s still just a sketch on the wall.

 

Those Moments…

This is where I get red and apologize for not blogging for over a month.

Blogging has taken low priority. It’s easier for me to quickly upload a picture to Facebook, write a sentence or two about it and click, it’s finished. So, if you want a better glimpse of what’s been going on since, ahem, March 9 — head on over to my FB page. You’ll get some snapshots at least.

We are wrapping up our time here in Uganda. Less than a week left. It’s going to be hard to say goodbye.  Really, really hard. Over and over again, we thank God for allowing us to come to Africa. It’s been a gift, one of the best gifts of our life. And now, it’s nearing the time we carefully hand the gift back to God and walk away.

Words cannot express the thankfulness for this gift of being able to love on the children.  And maybe that’s one reason why my blog is silent – words just aren’t there to express the gift… the journey.

But, you are at home wanting to know what is happening in our lives. You are the ones who sent us here, and we want to honor you with the knowing. And so, here I am finding words again.

Or maybe I’ll have to just tell in pictures for now. Because I just spent the last ten minutes staring at the screen, and I really want to post this tonight.  I can at least talk about those moments that take your breath away– and make you know you are created to be right here, right now.

Teaching class in the afternoon. Those moments when the children are listening and soaking what you say up like a sponge. And even the moments when they are not and you feel like pulling out your hair.

Painting murals on the wall. Those moments when the children’s eyes light up when they see their bare walls transformed into a happy scene of monkeys and lions and elephants. ( We painted two exact murals in the both boys room, a monkey holding balloons over a doorway, a monkey with flowers in the girls room and are now working on a bunch of flying balloons in the babies room. Hopefully, I will post more pictures of them all sometime. )

Playing in the field with the kids. Those moments when the kids tear across the field like cheetahs and you wonder if they ever get tired.

Giving art lessons to the kids. Those moments when they are covered with paint and the world is  perfect.

Teaching a lesson on “speaking life” into the children. Those moments when you see the “light bulbs” go off  in the staff and you realize they are understanding.

Enjoying lunch with friends. Those moments when you are thankful for all the beautiful, big-hearted people in this world.

Going to the village. Those moments when you stand under the bright blue sky with the man you love and you realize that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world but right there in the heart of Africa with him.

I’m thankful for the gift of moments.

My prayer for you, friend:

I pray your day is full of beautiful moments, and as you stumble upon the gift of a beautiful moment, you capture it with a thankful heart and allow the gift to change you ever. 

Keep Reaching, Sweet Baby. Keeping Reaching.

We had an”I Love You Party” for the babies and toddlers. Parties dedicated to simply celebrate the children, to let them know they are special and loved. They were in the seventh heaven during their parties. It’s a beautiful thing to see the sparkle in the eye of a child when he knows he is being celebrated and loved just because he is. 

Did you ever stop and think about it: there are no birthdays in orphanages. No time when a child is singled out of the mass of faces and celebrated.

Well, we can’t hold birthday parties for each child nor can we offer them all that committed mom and dad love they so crave, but we can do our part. We brought out the balloons, the chalk, the bubbles and the face paint. We brought out the hugs and the kisses. We made the morning their moment: a time to be celebrated because they are unique, special individuals. 

A few hours to say, “You are special to God and to us. You are loved.

This party is yours, special little one.” 

Ice cream for snack. Everything became eerily quiet when they began to eat their ice cream. It was almost a holy moment. I’m not kidding.

But, then the noise began all over again. The picture does not give justice to the busy joy.

Delmar and his little buddies are building a tower to the moon. I’m not sure if building it or crashing it was more fun.

Hugs are always ready and available at an “I Love You Party.” It’s the main ingredient.

Bubbles floated in the air all morning. The children squealed with delight as the bubbles popped on their faces. They begged for, “Big daddy bubbles!” They ran to them trying to catch the magic in their hands. But, of course, the bubbles disappeared into thin air.

And just like the bubbles, the “I Love You Party” ended. Real life began again. The faces scrubbed for lunch, the chalk put away and the toys cleaned up. The ice cream containers thrown away. The last of the balloons accidentally crushed by a child who wanted to hold on tight.

These beautiful children have had far too many bubbles pop in their lives.  Just below the surface, there is loss and pain and a reaching for security. But, too often they reach for the security and love… and, pop, it’s gone. A disappearing into thin air.

I want to blow them bubbles that will never pop, bubbles made with indestructible love they can hold and love forever. Bubbles that will never disappear from their out-stretched hands. I want them to reach out and find Love that will not let them go, that will not pop and disappear. 

And indestructible love is out there.

I pray these moments of celebrating them will whisper to their searching hearts:  Keep reaching, sweet baby. Keep reaching. Love is here for you. 

A Person’s a Person, No Matter How Small

“God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house. God is in the silence of a mother who has infected her child with a virus that will end both their lives. God is in the cries heard under the rubble of war. God is in the debris of wasted opportunity and lives, and God is with us if we are with them.” – bono

“Let us be the ones who say we do not accept that a child dies every three seconds simply because he does not have the drugs you and I have. Let us be the ones to say we are not satisfied that your place of birth determines your right to life. Let us be outraged, let us be loud, let us be bold.” – (guess who? Brad Pritt)

{therapy with our two silent boys}

“Be the change that you want to see in the world.” – Ghandi

{trampoline fun}

“A person’s a person, no matter how small.” Dr. Suess

{wheelchair delivery to a thankful girl and family}

{a visit to the village with the social workers to check on our little friends}

{coloring with our special education class in the afternoon}

{village scene}

{loving our little friend after therapy and face painting with him}

And that’s a peek into our time in Uganda! More later…

Half-Time

It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?

Sometimes I find it difficult to blog here. The lessons I’m learning and the things happening are often too personal to share on a blog. Or the opposite: what I’m dying to write to you can never be said here because of privacy restrictions. So, I find myself staring at the screen, tapping the keyboard absently and wondering what to say to my friends across the ocean.  I often draw a big, silent blank.

The other day we heard Americans talk in a cafe, loud and happy laughter. So American. We started to miss home. As we work with the Ugandan people constantly, we feel the tension of embracing the culture and loving the African ways while offering a fresh perspective on child development. It’s a good, healthy tension. We who work in another country dance a complicated waltz of giving and receiving, offering and taking, listening and talking, embracing and refraining.

It’s a journey of love. 

We are on a six month  journey of walking with Uganda, learning and growing and loving together.

It is now half-time in our journey.

We are taking a week off to rest and reflect. We are emotionally tired and need a break. Seeing loss and tragedy everyday starts to get to you somewhere deep inside and messes with your perspective. You either numb out and become a robot, or you take everything too personally and assume responsibility which is not yours.

So we are going to a tent by the Nile River for four days. It will be over Valentine’s Day (kuddos to Del for suggesting we go over February 14!). We look forward to swimming, reading, being together, enjoying the Ugandan beauty… and asking ourselves questions about what God has been teaching us the last three months and where we are to go from here. A key word of the week? Processing. 

And, of course, while we enjoy our half-time week… we will miss the tight hugs of these little guys:

Therapeutic Coffee

Confession: I drank too much coffee tonight at Flavours. I can’t sleep. Caffeine rarely affected me at home; I could drink coffee from my favorite green mug right before bed and never lose a wink of sleep over it. Here in Uganda? It’s a different story. When will I learn? (Second confession: this is not the first time it has happened.)

But, I needed the coffee this evening. Flavours, one of our favorite haunts in Jinja, has a serene garden with the coolest couches on the porch. It’s the perfect place to curl up with a cup of English coffee and a husband and a book. (Third confession: We never read our books. We always end up talking, with our books in hand.) It’s the perfect place to unwind after a hard day.

And, yes, today was a hard day. 

Sometimes you leave the orphanage happy and dirty and tired. Other times you leave it tired and dirty and happy.

And other times you leave on the brink of tears.

Today was a teary day, the kind where you leave with your emotions tumbled inside and upside down and your soul bone-tired. 

One thing after another happened, reminding us how  much pain is in the children’s hearts, how their stories are shaped in loss. Their little minds and hearts cannot process it all. Often the pain and loss comes out in tantrums, fights, screams and tormenting actions.  It’s tear-jerking to look into their confused and angry eyes, knowing the longing for security and love is screaming inside as they act like little hooligans. (And, really, isn’t that true of all of us when we throw tantrums in our adult ways?)

Today we needed a boat-load of wisdom and tanker-load of grace; we needed that tough, gentle Jesus love for the little kiddos. 

And I needed that cup of coffee at Flavours this evening and a peaceful, still garden to sip it in.

A Day of Hard Play

The children played hard on the elaborate bamboo playground, dirt and smiles everywhere.  42 children ran and jumped and swung; a little army of children with a mission to have fun.

The children rarely experience new things.

Their world is small.

If you heard them in the packed van on the way to the playground, you’d have picked up on that very quickly. Every child glued to the window, screaming with delight over cars and cows and sidewalks and bridges and trees and birds. If a child teaches us to see the world with new eyes and delight in small things, it’s doubly so with these little orphans. Bumping down a busy African road is like going to a birthday party with balloons and gooey chocolate cake to them. I think the children were almost worn out from excitement from the drive.  But when we arrived at the playground, don’t worry, they found their energy again.

We loved seeing the children be challenged and explore a big playground. It was so good for them to problem solve, process and discover in this safe environment.

Of course, the jumping and swinging sometimes ended in a heap. Our first aid kit came in handy several times. The child who received the band aid was the envy of the group.

We lined up for a snack of biscuits, water and lollipops. Here some of the boys attempted to be quiet while in line.

I love watching the children pray:  eyes squinched tight, hands together and an earnest, concentrated look on the face.

We ended the day tired, sore and dirty from hard play. The children slept long and hard for their naps when we got back. A big thanks to Amazima Ministries for allowing us to use their playground.  It was a day the little ones will not forget for a long time.