joy.

jinja, uganda.

where do I start? imagine love, strength, and life in its rawest form. the simplest way of living that will effect you so complexly for the rest of your life. no distractions or materialism… the necessities. the joy of the LORD is our strength. hem them in Father, hold their hearts! there is a deep understanding of roots and where they are planted. a deep knowledge and peace in the hands that provide for them. they KNOW their creator because His PRESENCE is inevitable. they cannot deny for a second that there is  a God because he is in the LIGHTS and the air. he seeps through the cracks in their homes and their hearts. in the midst of their oppression they burst into SONGS for their king and even in the darkest moment they praise Him. their church is composed of dancing, for how can they be still when He has filled them with so much joy? they aren’t quiet about their faith. it is exalted in their brown eyes and their steadfast hearts. a oneness with the earth and the people around them. freedom within bondage. richness within poverty.

an extraordinary life.

i started each day with african tea and banana pancakes. life in this beautiful country means so much. it is more than a heart tugging picture with a starving child. it is more than an emotional story that brings you to tears that you soon forget. it is not glamorous or cliché. it is not something to show off or bring attention to yourself… to fully taste His glory, I had to take myself out of the equation. this was so hard for the self-centered, entitled teenager that I am. yet when you hold them in your arms, you forget it all. everything in our lives has been handed to us whether we’re hard workers or not. to get food, we go to the grocery store. we have a paved road that gets us there. every 16 year old I know has a car. to get clothes we just go buy them. and those are the “necessary things.” what about when the season changes and we buy a whole new wardrobe of clothes we wear once?

thankfulness. no matter what they have, they are so thankful. love pours out of their hearts and they are invested in knowing you. time is so precious. you don’t have to be constantly entertained. each moment is your television, each face you meet is your facebook. at first when i saw the oppression and the needs i felt so overwhelmed. the Lord is so present and the people so full of JOY yet they are so in need. in my finite thinking it was a paradox. they are so needy yet so satisfied… this is the power of our GOD! HE IS SO AMAZING. 

in america, we have our meaning of “the good life.” uganda changed this meaning for me. these people need my clothes and food, not my ipod and my air conditioning. they don’t want a prada, they want a school. they don’t want an expensive bed, they need a pillow. that tiny little hair rubber band out of my hair becomes a bracelet, and brightens their entire day. i am here to LOVE not change. their culture is beautiful, pain and all. it’s the little ways that you LOVE them that make the change. i was not sent there to change their culture but simply to pour out His love and His glory. 

 Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you.

James 1:27

another cultural differenced that tugged my heart strings was the value these kids and teenagers had on school. here, the cool factor tends to be a negative attitude. the whole “I’m above my school and school is a waste of time” attitude. the negative attitude towards teachers and studying and that we feel we’re missing out on life. I’m so guilty of this. but those kids were so proud of their school and so hungry for education. knowledge is power. education is their way out of oppression. they not only sacrifice everything to pay for school, the 10-18 year olds build their own school. the thought of pouring concrete as a 12 year old girl exausts me.. it is hard work. yet when I asked precious Bridget, 12 years old about working at the school her eyes lit up as she explained how amazing her school is. she didn’t have to build it, she GOT to build it. and the school she was building was primary school and she was in secondary. she wasn’t even going to get to go to that school but the pride and joy in her eyes- the understanding of gratitude changed my heart. we also went to a small village and I met a girl my age named lydia. the village people were beautiful. they had mud huts and welcomed the “mzungus” or “white people” into their homes. they laid their finest Sunday dress on the dirt floor for us to sit. they gave us fruits and showered us with gifts when they barely could afford to feed all their children. they were all family, and that was enough. they loved us so well. one woman looked at me and said, “you are white and I am black but we are one because we are His.” color didn’t matter, looks didn’t matter. we are all on this planet together, spinning in space, children of the King. we meet the great great grandmother whose face spoke of pain and years of work. every wrinkle like a ring on an oak tree, revealing her age and her wisdom— the african people are beautiful. their bones and their build so defined and never idle. Lydia was sixteen. we laughed about boys and our bodies and our favorite foods. her favorite animal is a cow because it gives her milk, meat, and fur. heh. my favorite animal is a… nevermind it’s unimportant. she looked at me when we had finished small talk and said that she needed help. her village was poor and they couldn’t afford to send the girls to school. she wanted to go so badly. she asked me to take her to america so she could go to school with me. I thought about myself back at home. always complaining and not working to my fullest potential. I take school for granted. when I pulled into school this morning my stomach hurt. I am so blessed, yet I’ve been dragging my feet to school every morning dreading every Monday.

Bridget has shown me school in a new light. Lydia has made me thankful.