I don't know how to write this story. I've been mulling it over for a week now, trying to find the words that will make it come alive. But words fail.

One scene replays in my head again and again.

     She is incoherent, babbling, calling out, her arms waving wildly as she searches with half- blind eyes. "Etwana ayong!  
     Etwana ayong!"

     I am dying.

     I take her grasping hand in mine. I lean close and speak clearly, "Ayeni".

     I know.

     She quiets. Her searching eyes find my face. She whispers now, eyes locked with mine, "Etwana ayong".

     I answer again, "Ayeni. Encoriana? Are you afraid?" 

     "Eh," she replies, still holding my gaze and gripping my hand fiercely.

     Yes.

Kenneth calls as I'm making lunch.

"I'm bringing home a new roommate."

"Oh? Who is it?"

"An old woman I found in the village, starving to death. She's in pretty bad shape. She may not make it, but I couldn't leave her there. Her family abandoned her, and she's been lying alone in her hut for who knows how long."

Believe it or not, this is not commonplace in our house, the care of starving, dying people, but I'm up for it I think.

But it was worse than he claimed. She was just a bag of bones. A heavy bag of bones, but bones none-the-less. Too weak to sit, eyes swollen shut, feet and hands swollen and useless, ugly infected wound on her leg, and hadn't eaten in days. She was incoherent and confused, but she could still eat. And still complain.

     "It's dark out here. (she was inside and it was daytime.) Have you started cooking yet?"

     "Yes, I'm making you some porridge."

     "I don't want porridge. I want posho! (Kind of like very thick, tasteless mashed potatoes.)"

     "Ok, what would you like on your posho? Beans? Cabbage?"

     "No, sugar. I want posho and sugar."

     Ha. Spunky old thing.

We bathe her, possibly for the first time in months. Kenneth teases her about getting ready for a dance, and she falls for it, hook, line and sinker. She doesn't know where she is, and for once since coming here I am not treated differently because of my skin color. She can't see me. I wash her hair, washing away months of dirt and grime. I scrub her calloused feet, and the water turns dark. We rub her with lotion and tuck her into our bed with its clean sheets and soft mattress. I comb her hair. She smells lovely, fresh and clean. We hold her hand and stroke her swollen, useless fingers. We pray over her that God will be glorified through her life. We find ourselves already loving this crotchety, confused old woman. 

A restless day follows an even more restless night. Her leg is worse despite the antibiotics, and she is in constant pain. She is mostly incoherent, not understanding what is happening around her. Pain seems to be her only reality. She sleeps off and on, refusing food, waking to babble about people and places we don't know. We share with her about Jesus' love for her. We pray for God's mercy. She is close to giving up. 

We spend the next few days going back and forth in response to her calls. She is asking for people we don't know. She is confused. She cries out in pain as we try to lift and carry her to our homemade toilet. She is already past the point of needing it. Fear fills her eyes as she talks with people we can't see. Her constant refrain is, "Etwana ayong." She is dying.

My children come in periodically to check on me and the old woman. I don't want to leave her alone in her suffering. They sit by her bed. 

"Mommy, is she going to die?" 

"Yes, I think so. Hopefully soon because she is in a lot of pain."

"I don't want her to die."

"Neither do I, especially because she doesn't know Jesus."

And more conversation follows. About what happens after our deaths, about whether death is an enemy or a friend, about who is waiting for us on the other side. They are curious, asking many questions, but not fearful. My children know their Savior lives, and their eternity is secure. I don't have the same confidence for her. I pray desperately  and constantly like Bartimeus, "God, have mercy on her, a sinner!" She is slipping away.

That evening we finally give her some stronger pain medicine, and she slips into a restless sleep. Sometime during the night her sleep becomes a coma, and she doesn't wake again. One more day of suffering, of ragged, uneven breaths, and she is gone. 

It is hard to relay the events of the past week but we have learned in all of our troubles, trials and difficulties to pray and ask God that He would use it to glorify himself.  God and His glory is what we are after.  We are heartbroken because we know that no one in that village has ever heard of the love of Christ but we are also hopeful because our care for her has given us a place in her community.  We are meeting with the people of that village and sharing the hope with them that is Christ Jesus.  We know that we serve a God who brings beauty from ashes.  

Thank you Father for showing yourself to us through the eyes of an old grandmother.


"Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts as in the rebellion."  Hebrews 3:15

Eternity is just a breath away.

In the last few weeks we've been brainstorming how we can do more for the people around us. 

It's been hard being the white people who have so much and trying to discern where it's appropriate to give. Years and years of drought and starvation that has brought in many NGO's to fix things has developed a begging mentality among the Karimojong. If you help them once they will be back a hundred times for more help. 

It makes giving difficult. 

No matter how much a person is in need, I can never help them without thinking somewhere in the back of my mind, "Now they'll be here every day asking for things!" I wish this wasn't the case. I wish I could just help the one in front of me without ever thinking about the consequences, but that's just not how it works here. 

So...the brainstorming.

So many needs...how to help?

One place that we have been drawn to (or repulsed by, depending on the situation) is our local "hospital". It is always overrun with sickness and death, hunger and disease. You can always find a few cases (such as hydrocephalus - very common!) that are not treatable anywhere in Karamoja and know that unless we help them, no one will. 

It is a bit overwhelming. In fact, sometimes I just avoid it altogether, on purpose, because I am afraid to get involved. I am afraid of what it will require of me. More visits, more time, more meals, more sacrifice. 

But it's on the list. You know, the list in Matthew? 

"For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me..."
                                                                                                                             Matthew 25:35-36

Its' on the list. And those are the things I want to do, no matter the more it requires.

So...back to the brainstorming. We decided to go and take food once a week to the hospital. A HUGE pot of beans, a HUGE pot of posho, and a LOT of help :) We enlisted Zachariah's house church to help and set out to feed the hungry and visit the sick. It was an ambitious idea!  We have been going to the hospital for about 6 weeks now, once a week.  It has become our favorite night of the week.  We cook food from 9 in the morning to late in the afternoon.  When we go we meet all kinds of interesting situations.  We get to walk through the health center and pray sick persons individually.  We've prayed with a mother of newborn twins, we've prayed with tb patients, a man shot in the side, a boy shot in the abdomen with a bow and arrow, AIDS patients, etc.  It is such a blessing to us!  God has been so faithful to bless us as we try to be bring his blessings to others.  Thank you for praying for us and thank you for giving.  You buy the beans and porridge, the pots and pans, the plates and bowls.  Thanks for your blessings.

Zachariah was able to share with the people about the love of our Good Shepherd. 

These videos were made by visitors we've had this last year. The first one was from Lee Price, and Andrew and Kerri Meador's visit a few months ago. The first half is Uganda, the second half is from his trip to Nepal. This video includes our sorghum harvesting pictures which I forgot to get from Lee before he left! 

This second video was made by Tim and Chera Kearns from their visit earlier in the year. Just so you know, the white baby is Selah, Michaela is the pregnant one, and the tiny little baby is Achuka! Very good pictures of our neighborhood!

Thanks to the Prices and Kearns for letting me share their videos!!

We had another visitor last week. 

Leland is our "akathikot" (old man) friend from waaaay back when :) He visited us in Nepal and trekked through the mountains with us to play his harmonica in the villages. Once again, he came to share his skills (and he has 'em!) on the harmonica with us and our friends in Uganda. 

Kenneth, being the good friend that he is, decided to take him prayer walking in the village before sunrise. Kenneth, Cody and some local believers have prayer walked this village before and come back very sick, all four of them, with severe malaria. The feeling of darkness is everywhere. This particular village is very animistic. Their village is built around a huge rock with a cave inside where they believe a huge snake dwells. The snake's "cows" also live on the rock. In fact, they overrun the rock and the village. From what we can tell, they seem to be marmots, or some kind of rock badger.

This time they went armed. They had spent considerable time praying over this village and memorizing scripture dealing with spiritual warfare. 

When they arrived they immediately looked for a village elder and informed him that they would like to pray for his village. He agreed and joined them on top of the rock overlooking his village. After a few minutes more men began to show up until they were surrounded by about 30 warriors. Zachariah, our gardener, who has recently shown a huge gifting in evangelism, began to share the gospel with them. Using one of Zion's little plastic dinosaurs, he began to describe how we were created. 

"Once we were only a picture of a real thing, just like this dinosaur. Then God breathed the breath of life into us." He cupped the little dinosaur in his hands and breathed on it as if to show how it could be filled with breath and come to life. 

"God is holy and perfect. He created us to be holy like him. He wants us to follow His example and live our lives for Him, the God who gave us life. He will be faithful to love and guide us, and when our lives end, His breath will draw us back to Himself." 

Holding the little dinosaur up, he instructed them to think about what he had shared so they can talk more the next time they come.

Imagine...30 warriors just heard the gospel, in a nutshell, for the first time. 30 warriors just learned how they were created for the first time. 30 warriors just heard God's plan for them and their families for the first time. 


Most warriors don't see "religion" as a manly thing. They have never heard anything about Jesus or His sacrifice. But we can see a change coming...the fields are white for the harvest. God is calling the warriors of Karamoja to Himself, and we believe that someday soon He will breath real life into their spirits and they will drink of the water that will quench their souls forever.

     "Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will              
     never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life."
                                                                                                                                        John 4:13-14  

Please pray with us for this village as we prepare to go back and share more with them. Pray that hearts will be open to the truth, and that God's spirit will move in mighty ways among these warriors. Pray that they will one day become prayer warriors for their own people.        

This life we live is blessed. 

Some days we struggle to love and have compassion, and some days we miss the comforts of America, but every day we remember that we are so blessed. I don't mean blessed as in constantly-reminded-of-how-much-we-have blessed, but instead, God-is-here-with-us blessed.

Life in Karamoja right now is easy. Everyone has food. It has been raining for one week straight. We are enjoying a time of closeness as a family full of football (soccer, to you Americans), reading books, making swords, baking together, and watching movies. God has been speaking to us about different things like being better parents, humility, and loving the "one" in front of us (check out Katie Davis' new book, Kisses from Katie, to hear more about that!) Life, in general, has been so good.

And God is working.

This week Zacheriah, our gardener, baptized two people from his little house church in the river. Water in the river is, in itself, a miracle. Rain in the middle of November is not normal. Enough rain to actually dunk someone in is even more not-normal! We filled up two vehicles of people and headed down to the "river" to witness with these two men as they begin their new life in Christ. Both chose new names for themselves to symbolize this new life. One chose the name of Moses, and shared of his wish to lead his people to freedom, just as the Moses of the Bible. The second chose the name of John, and told us of his wish to proclaim the gospel in the wilderness of Karamoja, just as John the Baptist did in the wilderness of his time. Everyone sang and laughed as the men went under the muddy water and came back up, wet and smiling. 

Later, at our house, we shared a meal of beans and posho and boiled sweet potatoes. We chatted about cultural differences and laughed about the strange things each of our cultures do. We talked more about the meaning of baptism, and another man expressed his desire to be baptized again (he was baptized as a baby). We thanked God, we washed our hands, and we went our separate ways. It was a blessed day.

The next day a man visits. He is so thin his clothes hang on him, and he bends under the weight of them as he coughs...and coughs...and coughs. He has had AIDS for ten years and is now being treated for TB. He has been sleeping out of doors in whatever shelter he can find. He has no family, no one at all to care about him. He is too sick to work but has a few strong days where he can earn a little money sweeping someone's yard. He is soft spoken and looks down when I ask him questions. He eats a small plate of rice and cabbage and sits with us as the rain comes down. Monks and I decide to try a few songs together, me on the piano, him on the guitar. We sing in Karimojong... anakinai Jesu, anakinai Jesu...give me Jesus....give me Jesus. We sing song after song. And the man sits....and smiles...and smiles...and smiles. 

Later, after the rain stops, Kenneth takes him to find a hut to rent. He gets him settled in a house of his own. He tells him to come back to our house soon, and we will give him some easy work. They say goodbye and go their separate ways. It was another blessed day.

And the days come...one after another...blessed days full of family, friends, visitors, work, school, chores, babies, music, books, life. Life to the fullest. Blessed life. God is here, in this place.

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly."  John 10:10

This has been a busy last few months full of visitors and teams from the US. It has been a really encouraging time for us to show our friends around Karamoja and have some help with different projects. One of the teams came from The Gathering Place church in Pineville, LA and consisted of Glen, the pastor, Will, the construction "specialist", and Ms. Elizabeth, the retired nurse. We had been a part of this church way-back-when, in our college years, and were so excited to have them come and see our lives here! They were so open to anything we asked of them, including medical clinics in the village, some construction and teaching pastors and church leaders. They were a HUGE encouragement to us, and we are so thankful that they were willing to take some time (and a lot of money) and come spend a week with us. Here are some pictures from our medical clinics and a few . Enjoy!

They come often, her bad dreams.

Usually she can recount them in vivid detail the next morning after moving into her sister's bed for the rest of the night.

This one is particularly gruesome.

"They were chasing us with guns...Vaeh and I couldn't get away...they shot Selah in the head and she died..."

And I wonder again what things she has seen in her seven years.

She has been with us now for nine months, and just recently she has begun to share her stories. 
Something happens, a "trigger", and she's remembering.

A few months ago we were traveling to Kampala when traffic came to a standstill in the road. We inched forward until we were able to see the cause of the back up, a woman, sitting in the middle of the road, legs folded under her, facing oncoming traffic. We pulled the car over to talk to her and find out the problem, but she was unwilling to move or even look at Kenneth as he tried to help her. We slowly drove our car around her and prayed for her safety with our children. Only Rikot understood what she was doing. And the memories began...

"My tata want die once. She had lot ebutia (alcohol) and got knife. She want hurt ineth (herself), 
but my auntie lock ineth in the hut so she not hurt ineth with knife."

And another...

"I saw apethe(girl) get hit by car. She my friend from Losilang. The car come atipe (fast), and she not move. She not walk anymore."

And then the questions...

"Why that aberu (woman) want to die? Why no one help her? Maybe she all by ineth (herself)...
maybe her husband beat ineth...maybe her ikoku (child) die..."

She understands too much for seven years old. And we talk...about God's love for that woman...
about how we can love those people who don't have anyone else to love them.

She is quiet, sad, thinking.

"Maybe she not know Jesus love ineth (her)," she says softly. "Somebody need tell ineth."

I am fighting back tears now, remembering the first time I saw her in the village, sick, malnourished,
flies covering her open sores. HIV had worn out her little body, and she looked tired of living. I remember being heartbroken for weeks after meeting her. I couldn't stop imagining her in a few years, unwanted because of her disease. She would never have enough to eat, never go to school, never marry or have children, if she even survived to adulthood. Over the weeks we visited her it seemd as though I could see the life draining out of her slowly. She was getting sicker and sicker. I had never met a child so devoid of joy, of life.

And I remember thinking, "Maybe she doesn't know Jesus loves her. Somebody needs to tell her."

I look back at her, my joyful, beautiful, healthy, full-of-life daughter, and I am amazed. This is a new child. Sometimes she has bad dreams and sometimes she remembers things I wish she had never had to experience, but the fact remains...she is not the same. She is now wanted, loved, and cherished. She now knows that Jesus loves her so much he laid down his life for her, and these things have changed her. I am so proud of the little girl she is...her heart is so good. God has used these painful things in her own life to give her such a compassion for the hurting. She is quick to share anything with her friends who have less, and she expects us to do the same. She knows Jesus loves her, and she loves Him. Her innocent faith challenges me. How has my faith become so complicated that I worry more about creating "dependency" with my giving than about people being hungry? It's so simple really.  

       "To love with understanding, and without understanding. To love blindly, and to folly. To see what is lovable.      
        To think only of these things. To see the best in everyone around, their virtues, rather than their faults. To     
        see Christ in them!"                                                                                                       -Dorothy Day

God is doing a new thing in Uganda, a new thing in our family, a new thing in our children, a new thing in our hearts. He is teaching us to love without holding back, without thought of consequences or repercussions. He is giving us a chance to walk where He walked. He is teaching us what it means to have compassion for these harassed and helpless crowds who wander like sheep without a shepherd. 

Pray for us as we love and struggle and grow and learn. Pray for laborers to come to Uganda and walk alongside us. There are so many people who need to know Jesus' love! 



"Behold I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?  I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert."                                                                                                        Isaiah 43:19

She lies naked on the cold cement floor of the local "hospital". She is unable to walk and has been this way for a while. Her bedsores are untreated, and her tattered piece of foam is soaked through with urine that trickles across the cement, the stench almost unbearable. 

I bend to greet her, taking her withered hand in mine. Her cloudy eyes light up and a smile shows rotten teeth as she struggles to pull her thin sheet over her exposed body. 

"The hard work has made her old before her time," the nurse tells me. He claims she is 60, but her cloudy eyes, white hair and rotten teeth suggest otherwise. 

Two weeks ago she was raped. She was unable to walk...unable to escape...unable to defend herself.

Someone brought her to the health center where she has been lying, alone, since then.

"Her children live away...there is no one to cook for her, no one to care about her. If we
were not giving her porridge every day she would have died by now," the nurse tells Misty and I. "We just need someone to cook for her...we will provide the food if only they can cook it. But there is no one. No one will help her," he says. 

I am overwhelmed with anger as I drive home. Raped...this old woman who has nothing and no one. This old woman who is helpless and alone...defenseless...crippled...raped...

I can't wrap my mind around it. I can't fathom the evil in this world. Once again I struggle to hold onto hope...the promises of God...

"For the needy shall not always be forgotten, and the hope of the poor shall not perish forever."                                                              Psalm 9:18
"For he delivers the needy when he calls, the poor and him who has no helper. He has pity on the weak and the needy, and saves the lives of the needy. From oppression and violence he redeems their life, and precious is their blood in his sight"          Psalm 72:12-14

Precious is their blood...precious is their suffering. These are his lost sheep, those he left the 99 to find: the poor, the needy, the broken, the hungry, the lonely, the abandoned...they are HIS. His children...He created them for himself and loves them more than his own life. He died so that they could have hope.

THIS is the good news, the gospel.  

I've been reading many of Paul's epistles lately over and over, and one particular thought sticks in my head..."my power is made perfect in weakness."  2 Cor. 12:9  When I read this I think it is saying that God's strength can be seen when things are accomplished by means in which we are weak.  Still, I cannot look around and see this to be true in my own life.  I wonder if it takes a touch of humility to let your weaknesses be exposed to such an extent. Yes...I think this must be it.  To allow God to work in our weaknesses we must let our guard down for all to see them as they are.  Our culture and our society teaches us from day one to manage our weaknesses, become efficient enough in those areas so that they are never exposed. Paul seems to say "use your strengths" (Eph. 4:11-13) and "let your weaknesses be seen" 2 Cor. 12:9-10.  

Being in Northern Uganda, I have plenty of opportunities to let my weaknesses be seen. I can't even go to the market and buy food with the language proficiency of a 6 yr. old.  Do I use a translator when I have a chance, or do I struggle to make a simple sentence on my own, knowing that I will get all the verb tenses wrong?  I naturally gravitate toward doing things in which I am an expert, but I constantly feel God pulling me into places where I become the idiot.  I pray for humility almost every morning, and I can see that God is trying hard to answer my prayer...and this prayer will bring Him glory.  There have been many struggles lately, but as I look back on my struggles I see only beauty in them.  It is the days when I take the easy road, hole up at my house, or dodge the inconveniences of life that I know I have quenched the Spirit's desire to work in me. 

Thanks for listening to my ramblings - Kenneth 

(since I have your attention, here are a few prayer requests)
- We are training possible leaders for house churches this
      week on Tues. and Wed.  Pray for good communication

For those of you who have been waiting...we finally know what's going to happen to Achuka! His daddy came to visit us this week and signed the paper for us to begin the legal guardianship process. He has wanted all along to take his son back but has been unable to find anyone who can take care of him. His wives have refused, and the grandmother tends to enjoy "tipping back on grandpa's old cough medicine", if you know what I mean :)

It was a hard meeting, knowing his daddy wanted him but just couldn't take care of him. He's been putting us off for a while, trying to find someone, trying to convince us that our home is the best place for his son. We finally agreed to keep him but under our own terms. We explained the adoption process as best we could and what that means for him and for Achuka. 

This has been tough, and I can't help feeling like I'm taking his son away from him. However, we have prayed and prayed that God would work this situation out and know that His plan for this sweet little guy includes us. I am definitely feeling blessed to be allowed to be his mommy, hopefully forever. We continue to hope that our relationship with this family will keep growing as we raise Achuka and plan to visit them often in the village.

Please pray for us to find favor in the eyes of the local government. We are hoping to get legal guardianship of Achuka in order to travel with him, but we will need to foster him for three years before we will be allowed to legally adopt him. Right now the local government is not very thrilled with our visa situation and doesn't think we really know what we're getting into. We are praying that God will allow them to show us grace in this whole process. 

We have appreciated your prayers so much during this time we have been fostering Achuka and continue to covet them in the coming months. Please continue to lift up little Achuka as we seek to raise him to follow hard after Jesus.