I Am Back, But I Am Not Home

“Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” Matthew 10:39

Have you ever wondered why you were created? I mean deeply wondered why you exist and what the great purpose of your life is. Either late at night or early in the morning, have you sat in the dark silence and felt the weight of unfulfillment? The fear that you are missing the one thing you were supposed to, the one thing that would make you truly happy, truly fulfilled and truly you. Somehow in those quiet moments your heart becomes its most vulnerable and whispers in your ear an undiagnosed sadness. A feeling that your life is not being lived the way it should be or could be. Luckily, the alarm rings or we fall asleep and life as we have made it continues and the profound sense of doubt, unfulfillment and sadness goes back into hiding and we try to convince ourselves that it was all a figment of our imagination. But the more honest part of ourselves knows better, this life we have created for ourselves leaves an emptiness that is unmistakable.

I created a life for myself—a good life based on responsible decisions, good career goals and Godly morality. Financially, I saved money. I paid off my school loans. I had no credit card debt. Then at the right time when the market was favorable to buyers, I bought my house. It was a huge milestone. I was putting down roots in a community that loved me near a church where the music was worshipful and the preaching was dynamic. I had a beautiful Golden Retriever and a house with a white picket fence. In 2000 I graduated with a Masters in Education and became a leader in my profession. I moved up the ladder and was respected. I was dating good Christian men and waiting on God for my husband. I was a tireless advocate for AIDS orphans and widows. Life was good. I was healthy and lacked for nothing. Yet, at night when my house grew quiet and my mind settled down to sleep, restlessness stepped out of hiding and began to hold court in my head. It threw questions at me that I tried to ignore—What if all this stuff doesn’t make the sadness go away? What if I become incredibly successful and get everything I want and still fill empty inside? Is Jesus really enough? If he is, then why do I feel so restless? Where is the peace? Where is the fulfillment? Why is life like bland oatmeal-boring and predictable? Why is every day the same as the next? Isn’t there something more? What am I missing?

Being raised in the church to have faith and to love God without question, I kept my restlessness a secret. Maybe if I loved God more, or did more for the disadvantaged, or got married; then the restlessness would be satisfied and I would know the peace of God. My faith would be real and I would finally understand why it is so incredibly amazing to know Jesus. I wanted to know that, I desperately wanted to know that. I told God over and over when we were alone that I wanted intimacy with him. I wanted him to take me away and tell me who he had created me to be. I wanted him to tell me how to find a life without the constant restlessness that haunted all my quiet moments. Then like a gentle breeze a thought began to invade my waking moments—“Go to Uganda. I have a story to tell about myself and my people.” There was never any more to this thought or any less. It just kind of lingered on the outskirts of my mind for weeks, until I realized that God was speaking to me—inviting me away with him.

Just like the rich young ruler, I was standing with Jesus asking him how to get life—real life—abundant life. I was telling the Lord all the commandments I had kept. I have never stolen anything, killed anyone, lied in court and to the best of my ability I have loved my parents. I have loved the poor. I give money out of the excess of my abundance. And just like the rich young ruler, I was looking deep into Jesus’ eyes asking why do I still feel like I am missing something? Then Jesus gave me the same invitation to life that he gave him all those years ago, “Get rid of your stuff and come be with me.”

My mind reeled and I felt dizzy. From my first steps and my first words, my culture, my church and my schooling had taught me to be reasonable. To carefully follow wise financial policies, to invest my money for the future, to work diligently and to seek leadership opportunities in my profession. Creating security for myself and those I love is paramount to survival. Decisions must be based in rational thought while weighing the pros and cons of each decision carefully. It is the cardinal American sin to mismanage money and resources by making impulsive decisions without first weighing the options and seeking wise council. I know what the rich young ruler was thinking—Do I follow this wild passionate unpredictable Jesus or do I follow what I have been told since I was born? Do I impulsively give all that I have without a guarentee on the return of my investment—without seeing the 5-year business plan of Jesus’ ministry? Is this a good calculated risk or is it foolish? Still, I knew I couldn’t live with a lifetime of restlessness.

Then one day, my desire to quiet the voices of boredom and unfulfillment gained enough courage to leave it all….well almost leave it all. Somehow, I couldn’t fully shake my upbringing, not even for Jesus. I asked my boss for an unpaid leave of absence. They allowed me to leave for 5 months. Then I rented my house. I gave my dog to my parents and I put all my things in storage. So, last April I left for Uganda with no real plan, other than to let Jesus tell me who he had made me to be and to see if he really could satisfy the demands of my restless heart.

When I arrived, I spent time with my Ugandan friends and I volunteered at some ministries that I had supported in the past. I had no schedule. I didn’t really know what to do each day. Some days I just sat in the Cornerstone office and talked with the staff. I began to wonder if I had made a big mistake. I left everything to sit around and read the Ugandan newspaper? Then one day, Joyce, Cornerstone’s cleaning woman, stopped to talk to me. We liked each other instantly. At the end of the conversation, she asked me to come to her widow’s group and meet her friends. With nothing better to do, I went. What I didn’t realize was that Joyce was ushering me into the life God had created for me.

Over the next few months, I spent time with 120 widows. I went to their homes and heard their incredible stories of survival. I listened as they told me about this beloved savior who loves widows and provides supernaturally for them. I held them when they cried and when they were too sick with HIV to move. I prayed with them and for them. My life became bound with theirs. We fell in love with each other and a deep friendship began. I worshiped with them and we all sang praise to an all-powerful God. I saw them give all they had to Jesus—literally every shilling. “Wouldn’t you give your money to your husband?”; they would say. I was overwhelmed by the beauty of Jesus and the magnitude of the suffering of his beloved, but even more awestruck by the way Jesus met them in their suffering to provide for their needs. I love them and I have loved them.

Suddenly, I was writing. I was letting God pour the words on the paper. His stories were flowing out of me and I was alive. For the first time in my life, I was alive—like an electrical current was running through me. I was created in this moment to tell their stories and to give glory to God through them. I was created to live in friendship and love with these widows. I was created to use my influence and resources to meet their physical needs. It was exhilarating. One night, I lay in bed and realized that it was quiet. There were no voices of restlessness, no voices of sadness, no voices of unfulfillment. There was a new voice, I hadn’t heard it before, but it was singing a sweet song in my spirit. It took me a moment, but I finally recognized it—it was peace. I was a soul at rest. I was a life being lived to the fullest. It was a feeling of doing what you were created to do. I was free and it was glorious!

About a month ago, I returned to my home, my job, my dog, my stuff and my former life. Back in April, I was too scared to come away with Jesus fully, so I set up a safety net. Little did I know that I would come back and regret that I didn’t listen to Jesus the first time. As it turns out, Jesus does know me better than I know myself and he will give you life, real, abundant, unpredictable, fulfilling life. When he tells you how to get it, don’t go half way, don’t drag your feet, don’t trust more in our American culture—fall headlong into it with wild abandon. That freefall is scary as hell, but the letting go doesn’t even compare with the deep, beautiful, all encompassing, joy filled fulfillment that begins to live in every part of your soul. It is a freedom you have never known and one that gives you life where peace sings in the quiet moments.

Don’t be fooled, it is not easy, nor is it one without trouble, but whatever storms come, your soul is grounded. You can live at peace even though the storm rages around you. Thankfully God also told the rich young ruler that anything is possible with God, so I now have another chance to leave it all—really leave it all. I am selling my house. I am getting rid of my stuff. I am giving my dog to my parents. I am leaving my job. This time instead of screaming as I free fall into God’s wildness, I think I will swan dive smiling from ear to ear. For as Jesus said anyone who loses his life for me will find it. I did find it—every delicious part of it. Because what does it profit me to gain the whole world, to gain the life I thought I wanted and lose my soul?


Update on the widows:

The picture above is of the wild beautiful party the widows threw for me before I left. First we cried, held each other and couldn’t even imagine not seeing each other. I was sad in the deepest place and they held me as I cried and I held them as they cried. I am not sure who was comforting who—maybe we were comforting each other. We couldn’t leave like that, so we decided to throw a party. On the Tuesday before I left, I arrived to 100 widows singing. It sounded so beautiful. Then they cheered and danced with me as I arrived. Ruth then took me away from the rest of the women to a small two-room house. There on the bed was the dress I am wearing in the picture above. They had saved all their small shillings to give me this beautiful dress. I cried, I jumped for joy—it was everything at once. Ruth helped me put it on and then I went back to the party. The widows were elated that it fit and began to bring gift after gift up to me. Each gift was a symbol of the love we had for each other. It was almost too much to take it at once. It was a moment of incredible joy and deep love and affection. I tore my heart out to leave. I wasn’t sure I would survive it emotionally, but it was worth the pain.

As for the land, two days ago they visited the land to do final inspection and found something that worried them so they chose not to proceed with that piece of land. Simon also confirmed that this was the case, so they still have the $16,000 and will begin searching for a new piece of land. I talked with one of the widows by phone yesterday and I think it was a good thing to know there was a problem before the land was purchased. Keep praying that God will give them the right piece of land with no issues!!

Once the land is purchased we will be going gangbusters to raise money to build some small simple homes for the widows to live in. Lisa and I have met with several people about the best way to collect donations and at this point we have the opportunity to become a project under Church Development, Inc., my dad’s ministry. Therefore all donations will be given through that organization. Then Church Development, Inc will give the money to Cornerstone who will manage the money for the widows. It seems to be a great system and a great way to provide financial accountability. If you have any questions or wish to support this project please either email me at kari.miller@usfamily.net or Lisatschetter@comcast.net


My Life:

Well, I think after reading my blog, you may have a pretty good idea where I am headed, but just to make things real clear—I am moving my life to Uganda for a while. I am selling my house—anyone interested? I am leaving my job. I am leaving my stuff. I am leaving! My heart is with the widows and with the relationships I have made there. I am hoping to get everything wrapped up by February 1st, but with the housing market the way it is, I am not sure that will happen. Please pray that the house sells quickly!

When I am there, I can live on some savings I have, however, I was also offered an opportunity to sub at the International School there -which is possible to turn into a full time position. One thing I know is that God will provide for me!

I am so excited to start this new chapter of my life! I have never felt so secure with a decision in my life. I finally found my life!!!

Much love,
Kari

Rich In Faith

“Has God not chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world to be rich in faith and to inherit the kingdom he promised those who love him?” James 1:5,6

Helen grew up in a family that loved her. Her parents taught her how to grow maize, groundnuts and Irish potatoes. They always had enough to eat and the food was good. She hoped one day to be a good cook like her mother. No one could make millet bread like she could. Sometimes as night, her uncles would take her into the woods to collect honey from the beehives. She would hold the fire up high over her head close to the hive to chase the bees out. Then her uncle would collect the honey. She loved eating that sweet honeycomb. On holidays when her friends and family gathered in her home she would watch her older siblings dance the traditional Acholi dance. She stood behind them and tried to copy their every move. Then her parents would light a fire and the children would listen as the adults told them stories of times long ago. Life at home was full of love and promise. She remembers being so happy. She felt like the richest little girl in the world.

As all little girls do, she grew to be a vibrant fun loving woman. She fell in love with a good man and married him in a grand celebration that the whole village attended. They built their home, planted their crops and dreamed of a great future together. Helen was excited to become a mother and to raise her children to know the rich love she had felt as a child. Her first child came and the whole family came to ooh and aah over this new fat healthy baby. Then just two years later another beautiful baby joined their family. Everything was as it should be and they wanted for nothing.

Shortly after Helen’s second child was born, rumors began to spread around the village that a group of rebels were planning to overthrow the government. She hoped they were rumors. Life was good in her village and no one wanted to go back to the days of Idi Amin. Then one day some Ugandan officers showed up at her home to talk to her husband. She longed to know what they were discussing so intently under that tree. When they left, she approached her husband. He told her that the rebels were indeed beginning to attack villages in their area. The rumors were true. He then told her not to worry-that he would protect her and their children. Suddenly, she knew what he would say next. He had joined the army and was leaving the next day to go and fight the rebels. She cried hysterically and begged him not to go--not to leave them, but he felt that the only way to really protect them was to join the army and fight.

She cried for days after he left. She lay awake each night wondering if he was alive or dead. Her neighbors told her that the rebels were getting closer and that they were ruthless and held no mercy for women and children. She was so terrified, but she had to stay strong for her children. They were so young. She tried to remain calm as she breast-feed her youngest. Even if her life was in chaos, she wanted her children to feel at peace.

One day, a relative came running up the path to her home shouting and crying. Helen ran to her fearing the worst. The woman told her that the rebels had slaughtered her sister and brother in law this morning. Helen dropped to her knees and wept. How could this be happening? Suddenly she remembered her sister’s two small children. Shaking she looked at the woman and tentatively asked about the 3 year old and the infant. “They are alive and with your father,” she said.

She could feel herself drowning in sorrow, so she asked God to give her strength. She was a mother and she knew she couldn’t fall apart—not with two young babies. So got up brushed herself off and fed her children lunch. After feeding them, she went to her father’s house to mourn with him. Helen and her father held each other and cried. It was all too much to bear. Helen knew upon entering the house that her sister’s child would only survive if she breast-fed him. So, she picked up her nephew and wept as she breast-fed her sister’s child. She stayed with her father for a couple weeks and helped with all the funeral arrangements. It was a painful time.

After two weeks, Helen made the decision to return to her home. All the children’s things were there and there were neighbors who could help her care for her sister’s children. So, with 4 children under the age of 3, she returned to the house she had built with her husband. Life was hectic. She seemed to be breast-feeding all the time. Then the other two wanted to be held and cuddled. God was her only source of comfort. He somehow gave her enough strength to keep going. She would get so afraid sometimes. The gunshots and bombs seemed to be getting closer, but when she would pray God would give her peace. Even now, she can’t explain how she felt that peace as the war raged around her.

One day, she heard her neighbors screaming, “The rebels are here.” People were frantic and running with their children. Some were screaming, some were crying and some were praying. Helen ran inside the house and saw 4 small children. There was no time. She had to run, but she couldn’t carry them all. “God forgive me,” she cried and she picked up her sister’s children and hid them under a blanket. Then she took her two children and ran wildly into the bush. Then she hid and silenced herself and her children. After several hours, all was silent and slowly people began to leave the bush. She took her children and forced herself to walk toward her house. She began to shake expecting to see her sister’s children dead. To her great relief, they were scared but alive. She held them so close and wept uncontrollably. The weight of leaving them almost crushed her. She thought of poisoning herself, but who would care for the children?

She wondered how God could love her. How could he forgive her? She felt like she had had no choice. She prayed all night and even in her deep despair, God comforted her. He came to her. She said she felt him holding her saying, “I will never leave you. I know you did the best you could. I will protect you and the children. Depend on me.”

A few days later the rebels came again. Again she chose to run with her children and to leave her sister’s children hidden in the house. As she lay silent in the bush, she prayed for those children. She asked God to supernaturally protect them. Unlike the last time, she felt the peace of God even through the loud pops of gunfire and exploding bombs. God’s presence seemed to be all around her. She could feel it in her bones. When all fell silent, she went back to the house and was shocked to find the children eating. The rebels had cooked food at her place and left some for the children. They had spared her home and her sister’s children. Helen fell to her knees and began to worship the great rescuer. God had promised to save her and the children and he did. That night instead of crying in despair, she sang out loud hymns of praise. As she closed her eyes, she could feel God’s presence. It was so peaceful and so loving.

A few days later, the rebels came again. Again she heard her neighbors begging for mercy before they were murdered. She heard people running and screaming. She went to grab her children and then stopped. She remembered that God had promised to protect her, so with her heart beating wildly she gathered all the children together. As they sat holding each other, Helen began to pray. Her voice was shaking, but she continued to talk to Jesus reminding him of his promise of protection.

Suddenly the door flew open as 3 rebel soldiers rushed in pointing their rifles at her head. They were all shouting at her. She put up her hands and continued to pray. It was loud and confusing. She began to beg them to spare her children. She had heard them slaughter her neighbors, so she was expecting the same. Still she continued to cling to God’s promise of protection. Then something miraculous happened. One of the rebels told her to get up, get her children and run. Immediately, she grabbed the infants and told the other two to grab hold of her skirt. Then they ran. As she looked back she saw them burning her home and everything she had. She had nothing but the clothes they were wearing, but God had kept his promise, she and her children were alive.

Helen’s husband never came back. The great love of her life was gone, but a new love was beginning. Over the next 20 years, Jesus has provided for Helen. He has fed her when she has had nothing to give her children. He has provided school fees in ways too miraculous to believe. He has provided places for her to live when she had nowhere to lay her head. But most of all he has never left her and he has loved her better than any man ever could.

Helen is caring for her grandchildren now as two of her own children have died of AIDS. She lives in a condemned bathhouse and sells brooms in the market. Looking at her is looking at extreme poverty. She has nothing. Her and her 6 grandchildren sleep on the floor of that old bathhouse. It is only God who feeds her. It is only God who gives her peace. It is only God who gives her joy. It is only God who loves her.

As she stood in front of the other widows and told her story of God’s great love for her, she gushed about how good God has been to her. Then she fell to her knees and raised her hands up to heaven and began to praise God for his goodness and provision. In that moment I saw her for who she really was, a bride of the King--a Queen in God’s great kingdom with all the resources of heaven at her disposal. Queen Helen, poor in the eyes of the world, but rich in the eyes of her beloved.

Update on the widows:
Praise the Lord and Bless you!!! We raised about $16,000 for the widows new land. Seven acres of land will be purchased just north of the city of Kampala. It is close to several factories where the women can find work and to an AIDS clinic. There are also several schools for the children in that area. Simon is checking on the land title and going to survey the land and do final negotiations sometime with week. Things here do move slow, but they are moving!! I have also begun researching the best way to construct houses for these dear women. Hopefully, I will have an idea of how to proceed with that before I leave. I am also hiring two interns, University students-graduates of Cornerstone Leadership Academy for Girls, to work with these widows while I am gone. These girls are fantastic!!

When I get back I am hoping to start a new 503C to help fund these projects for the widows. Everything is at the beginning stages, but if you would like to help Lisa and I feel free to contact us. I will be updating everyone on the progress of the widows project in the months to come. God is really doing something exciting!!

Update on me:

I am crying now. This is so hard to write. I am leaving these women and it is so painful. I have heard their stories over the last 4 months and I have tried to tell you just a few of them. I have now met with 103 widows hearing their stories, crying with them, laughing with them and praying with them. I have held those with AIDS close to death. I have paid medical bills. I have provided food, house rent and school fees. Yet these women have loved me more than I have loved them. They reach into their handkerchiefs where they keep their few coins and buy me a soda or put their few coins together and cook me lunch. Walking through the market the other day, Helen, who you just read about, gave me a broom and wouldn’t let me pay for it. They are planning a party for me next Tuesday. They asked me what colors my parents liked. I think they are working hard to collect money to cook for me and to make things for my family and I. I am not sure I can emotionally get through it, so pray for me.

God told me to go to Africa because he had stories for me to hear and to tell about his personality. I totally underestimated how great and glorious those stories would be. I now have a 100 of them sitting inside of me and I try to let one out for you each week, but there are so many more. I have seen God be bigger than I ever thought he could be. I have see God be more loving then I thought possible. I have see God rescue people from deep dark places. I have seen God be a husband, a father, a brother. It is so beautiful to see God being himself that I am not ready to leave. It reduces me to tears every time I think about it. Some of you will understand when I say this is another “grabbing the chair and not letting go” moment. I need someone to come and pry my fingers off. (Sorry for the inside comment, but some of you will understand what I mean.)

How can I leave here in a week? How? I am not ready. I’m not.

I am spending my week with saying goodbye and it is ripping my heart out. It hurts so much, yet I keep telling people “ I am coming back.” But I see the uncertainty in their eyes and it kills me. World Vision has asked me to speak at their chapel on Friday. Please pray that God gives me something other than a tearful goodbye to say. I told the street boys at Kibuli that I was leaving and they spent a half an hour begging me to stay, “Please auntie, who will teach us if you go? Please auntie don’t go.” Then Ezra went outside and pouted for the rest of the time. If you know how emotional I am, you know this is just killing me. Agnes, an HIV positive widow, came to the office the other day and just held me and cried. Then I have made some intensely personal relationships that I have no idea how to separate from. I keep thinking, “my life is here. I am really alive here. Why am I leaving?”

I am sorry to rant and cry and sound so nuts, but it is just where I am. I am not okay. I feel like I am falling apart. I am trying to pray and to rely on God like my widows. I am trying to learn from them how to handle this torrent of emotion. I am still so new in this kind of reliance on God, but I know God will come and he will give me strength to get on the plane and leave. I may come back and be a bit of a mess, but I know God will sort out the pieces. I need an emotional exit plan, but I am just not sure how to make one. I need help, so I keep relying on God and my friend and my widows. They love me so well and they hold me when I cry. They point me to Jesus and pray for me. We will get through it together.

I am weak, He is strong. I am sad, He has joy. I am in despair, he has comfort. I can do all things through Him who gives me strength.

Kari

Climbing Out Of The Pit

“Praise the Lord, O my soul; and forget not his benefits—who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.” Psalm 103: 2-5

Have you ever woken up to find that you are deep inside a pit? Life has suddenly begun to collapse around you and it feels as if you might suffocate under the weight of it all. You can’t tell anymore whether it was the foolish choices you made or the foolish choices of others that dug the pit so deep. All you know is that you are in a dark, dank place with little hope of rescue. As if that is not enough, the pit seems to be filling with the heaviness of fear and despair. Everything you try to get yourself out only sinks you deeper. The air begins to feel scarce and panic becomes your closest friend. You begin to wonder if anyone will find you. Will any one care enough to come looking?

Rachel had fallen into a deep pit. Her husband died in 2000 of AIDS, leaving her HIV positive. Losing him was devastating, but equally as devastating was realizing that she was faithful to a man who slept with other women. How do you mourn someone and at the same time burn with rage?

When did he have time to have these affairs? I cooked dinner every night. I took care of our children. I listened to you as told me about the stresses of your day. I mourned with you when our last-born child died in infancy. We walked through this deep valley of grief together and emerged on the other side. Our marriage seemed strong and intimate, was it all an illusion? Why did he do it? Was I not enough? Am I not beautiful? Did he not love me? Was I a bad wife? Was I not a good lover? The questions came at her at lightening speed and tormented her day in and day out.

Each day she nursed her husband to his death and sometimes it took everything in her to care for him—to show compassion to him, to clean him, to listen to his cries. She felt guilty sometimes that she wanted him to suffer. He had broken their sacred bond and had brought death into the house. Finally, he breathed his last and even in her anger, her heart broke. She had loved him. He had been handsome. She remembered falling in love with him. How sweet that time was. She was his princess. Their love was sweet and intoxicating. What went wrong? She had gone from deliriously happy bride, to radiant mother, to ignored wife, to diseased widow. Her emotions swirled inside her like a tempest. They were unpredictable and all consuming. They drove her deep into a pit of fear and despair.

Deep in that pit with her were her two children and the only child of her dead sister. She couldn’t loose it completely; those children depended on her for food, school fees and a safe place to live. She went to the clinic and started the ARV drugs in hopes that she might live long enough to see these children through school. When she feels good she sells small vegetables at the market. She struggles to feed them everyday and to pay their school fees. Now she is being chased away from the one room shack that is her home. They city has condemned it and in doing so condemned her.

Ruth, Elizabeth and I went to visit Rachel. As I approached the wooden structure, she was sitting on a small stool staring off into the distance. When we caught her attention she welcomed us towards her. We sat outside her home in silence for a couple of minutes. Taking her hand in mine, I asked her how she was doing. That is all it took for the floodgates to open. She began to weep while I stroked her arm and her shoulders. We listened as Rachel told us about her pit. It seemed so deep and so dark, but we didn’t let go of her. The other widows gathered around her. She told us every detail. We saw the ugly face of fear. We heard the cries of despair and desperation. We sensed the wildness of rage. We listened and were not intimidated by these bullies of emotion. We held Rachel as she let out all that she was working so hard to keep locked inside of her. Then we prayed to the one who rescues us from even our deepest wounds.

The widows asked Jesus to come with his powerful weapon of love and surround Rachel. They asked him to wage war against her fear and desperation. They asked him to hold her in the palm of his hand. They asked him to reach down into her darkness and shine his great light. As they prayed a powerful sense of love and power filled that place. Rachel’s breathing calmed down and she seemed a little more at peace. We each looked at her and said over and over, “You are not alone. God will not leave you and we will not leave you.” She meekly said, “Thank you. I do love Jesus and I want to be free from this pain. Thank you for coming, I needed to know that God still cares about me.”

In that moment God’s great hand of rescue reached down into her pit and gave her hope in a way out. His light shone down breaking the blackest part of her darkness. She is not yet healed completely, but she is in a community of widows that will not abandon her into the pit. They will stand with her and remind her of God’s faithfulness and compassion. They will hold her when she cries and wage war against the evil forces of fear, despair and rage. Her healing has begun and slowly by slowly it will be completed. There will be a day when a crown will be placed on her head that shines with love and compassion.

Update on the widows:

I have now visited 65 widows and, yes, I do know them by name. I have become their adopted daughter and am called, “my baby,” on a number of occasions. They even gave me an Acholi name this week—Akello which means “bringer of good gifts.” I am a part of them and they are a part of me. It is a relationship that goes deep and one I am exceedingly grateful for. I love them. It breaks my heart to think about leaving them. In fact, I broke down crying with Joyce the widow the other day. She just held me and rubbed my back as I sunk into her shoulder. She just whispered, “Trust the Lord. God has a plan for you that is good. Don’t forget that. He will love you and he will bring you back to us. Let God have it.” Widows truly are God’s beloved wives.

I have compiled some statistics about their issues I thought you might find interesting. I have about 40 more needs assessments to go so it is not completed, but it should give you a sense of the group. 40% are HIV positive, 38% have TB, Malaria or other serious health problems, 83% are taking care of children that are not their own of those 65% are children of dead relatives, 75% have 5 or more children that they are responsible for and 21% have 10 or more children they are responsible for. It is staggering to take it all in and even more overwhelming to know that the people that are hurting are those that I love. Agnes came to the office the other day. She is HIV positive and just barely more than skin and bones. She told me that she had been awake all night with very painful ulcers, but she could not afford the medicine. So, she asked if I knew anyone who could buy her beaded necklaces, so she could get enough to buy the $12 medication. Needless to say, every woman in my family will now have a beautiful beaded necklace made by Agnes the widow. It is my hope to bring some of the necklaces back home and sell them so that people like Agnes can earn enough money to live and care for themselves.

I am meeting with the executive committee tomorrow about the 4 different possibilities of land. It is my hope a decision will be made within the week, but as always anything can happen. Then we will need to begin to raise money to build some small homes. We are getting close to our $15,000 goal, but are still short, so if you wish to help the widows please contact Lisatschetter@comcast.net

God is really doing some amazing things and it is beautiful to watch!

Update on my life:

Well, I only have 3 weeks left and when I am alone at night, I cry with such intensity I am not sure even how to handle it. My heart has fallen in love with these people and this place. An American friend who lives here told me on Saturday that I needed to develop an emotional exit plan, and I think she is right because denial is definitely not working. This has been the best time in my life. I am so alive. I am so happy and I am so content. How do you find your heart’s desire and then leave it? Leaving will surely be the biggest thing I trust God for so far. Please pray for me!!!!!!!!

I will be home August 16th and staying with my parents until Sept. 1st. (I have a renter in my house until then) I will be starting work the last week of August and somehow re-entering my life. I may choose to leave Sprint, so I will keep you posted if I get a new phone number. I want a phone that can send text messages to phones here in Uganda. Anyway, I love you all and see you soon!

Kari

From Death To Life

“When he heard this, Jesus said,” This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it.” John 11: 4

This year I set out on a journey to find Jesus. At first I wasn’t quite sure where to find him. There seemed to be a lot of churches and religious people who claimed to know him and I am sure many of them do, but being a deeply relational person, I wanted to know him deep inside my own soul. I wanted to sit with him alone in a secluded spot where we could focus only on each other and talk about intimate things. I wanted to understand how he could love me so deeply and forgive me so easily. I wanted to know why he loves the least and the left out among us. I wanted to get better at loving him. I wanted to know where he spends his time. I wanted to know what makes him smile and what makes him cry.

So, I left my comfortable place and went to the least among us to find him. Surprisingly, he was there-out in the open-easy to spot. There he was in all his glory sitting among the widows and the orphans. He looked at me as if to say, “Finally, what took you so long? I told you I can be found by anyone who looks for me. I am not hiding. Didn’t I say that I would be with the poor? Now let me show you my favorite thing to do.”

I spent time with Jesus this week learning about his “favorite thing to do” at the home of Rosemary the widow. Rosemary’s simple wooden 3-room structure is an unlikely place to meet the God of the universe, yet he’s there and he was full of life and laughter. He was with his bride. Just as he promised, he had become the husband to the widow. Like any loving wife, Rosemary leaned forward and began to tell me the story of how they met.

Rosemary is from Northern Uganda where war has been a part of daily life for the last twenty years. She knows what its like to run from stray bullets sheltering your children as best you can. She knows what its like to see your neighbors killed while you hide in terror. Life was so hard for so long that Rosemary became numb to it all. She drank alcohol and a lot of it just to help get through the day. Then came the final blow. Her husband fell sick—very sick, very fast. She knew this disease all too well. She had seen other neighbors die of slim’s disease. Finally, in 1998 her husband died of AIDS. Then shortly after her co wife died of AIDS. She didn’t need to get tested to know the truth of her grim situation, but she did. Sure enough she was HIV positive. This put a strain on her emotions that she just couldn’t bear. It drove her deep into depression and alcoholism. She then watched as her youngest two children wasted away from AIDS. She buried them and in some respects buried part of herself. She was barely coping, but she still had five children to feed.

One day she was riding on the back of a pick up truck taking her cassava to market, hoping to sell enough to feed her children, when the tire blew causing the truck to loose control. Her only thought was of her 5 children. She remembers screaming out, “God help my children.” When she regained consciousness she realized that she was laying on the roadside with blood running down her body. Her collarbone was broken and protruding through her skin. Her back was broken as well as several ribs, but she was alive. She was taken to the hospital where it took one year for her to heal. She tried to get word about her children, but was not successful. When she returned to Lira, she found them split up among several different homes of “good Samaritans.” She collected her children and made the decision to move out of the war zone. She moved everyone to Kampala, the capital city.

Upon arriving, life was extremely difficult for her. She did not have enough money to send her children to school or to feed them regularly. Her CD4 count was worsening and HIV was now turning to full-blown AIDS. She was just bones and skin. She spent the little money she had on alcohol just to numb the physical and emotional pain. The community she lived in rejected her and shamed her. She learned not to walk out in the open, but through the back passage ways and only at night. Many people in the community thought she was mentally disturbed and wouldn’t come near her.

One day she went to the clinic to get her CD4 count taken and they were not hopeful she would last another week. They told her to go home and prepare for death. Rosemary then lost all hope. That same week, she went to a prayer service to make peace with God before she died. At that prayer service she heard the pastor say that Jesus loved her and wanted to be in a relationship with her. She couldn’t believe it. No one wanted to talk to her or be with her. She was an emotional mess. She was an alcoholic. She was going to die. She was a bad mother. There was nothing about her that drew others to her, yet this pastor continued to tell her that Jesus wanted to love her. With nothing to lose she moved forward to the front of the church and asked the pastor to help her know Jesus. As she prayed she felt an enormous burden lift from her shoulders and a sense of health she hadn’t felt in years. She walked away from that church and for the first time in a long time she didn’t feel like drinking. She went straight home and told her children about this Jesus who wants to love widows and orphans.

The next day she went back to the clinic to get her CD4 count taken again. This time the nurse took it twice. “This is impossible,” she said. “What is impossible?” Rosemary asked. “Your CD4 count is normal.” The nurse then gave her an AIDS test where Rosemary tested negative. The clinic was so shaken by this bizarre result that they sent her to another clinic and then to the main hospital in Kampala. However the result never changed. From that point on she always tested HIV negative. It was then that Rosemary realized that God had healed her emotionally and physically. She was supposed to have been AIDS next victim. Now she was God’s great beauty.

Over the next few weeks, a new Rosemary was born. She gained her strength back and began to work hard at selling things in the market. She fed her children and they all gained weight. She even raised enough money to send her children to school. The community was shocked and had a hard time believing that this was the same woman who was only bones and skin a few months ago. She had been drunk all the time and close to death. How could someone go from certain death to life in such a short amount of time? Instead of walking the back alleyways, she walked down the main street and told anyone who would listen about Jesus-the one who loves deeply, forgives completely and heals absolutely. Then in her slum area, she raised enough money to build a small church where all the broken people could come and meet Jesus. She has also taken in 7 other orphans because she knows that Jesus loves orphans. She still leads this small congregation of once broken people with the savior she loves.

Today, Rosemary laughs as she tells the story of how Jesus found her, loved her and healed her. There is a deep intimate connection between her and Jesus. They are in love and it shows. It was then that Jesus looked at me and said, “I just love to bring the dead back to life. It is my favorite thing to do.” I looked at him and all I could see was his radiant glory.

Update on the widows:

I spent a very intense day with the widows. I visited about 10 widows and heard their stories. Each story is heartbreaking and the conditions in which their living is appalling. One woman I visited lives in a one-room shack with 6 children, yet she continues to tell me how much Jesus loves her and provides for her. It is hard to get my mind around that. Midway through our day, we stopped at Rosemary’s church where several of the widows were gathered including the Muslim widow who became a Christian after I talked to her about Jesus. This former Muslim widow had prepared food for me. She ran up to me, bear hugged me and kept calling me “mama.” Ruth explained that I was her spiritual mother and she wanted to bless me, so she collected money from all the widows to buy food. Then she cooked all day to make this feast of rice, greens, beef and potatoes. Then she sent people to buy me my now favorite drink here-Orange Fanta. It was a gift of epic proportions, especially since I know some of these widows celebrating with me have great trouble feeding their families. As I move through the community of widows now, I am greeted as “my daughter”, hugged and kissed. It is a feast of love every time I am there. I go to love them and they love me more. I also saw Jane Francis on the path. Jane has TB and AIDS. She is skin and bones. She was barely moving. I ran to her held her and asked where she was going. She said that she had just come from the clinic and that she has mucus in her lungs. They prescribed some medicine, but she had no money to buy it. I asked her how much it was. She said 5,000 shillings (about $3). I quickly reached into my purse and asked another widow standing near us to take her prescription and the money and go get it for her. Then we took her to her home to lie down and rest. Amidst all the stories of loss and disease, I find myself buying medicine for those who are dying and then having lunch in a church built on the healing of an AIDS infected widow. I am not sure how I am making it from morning to evening, but God is carrying me like he is carrying them. It is intense and I cry often, but God brings people back to life, so I have hope.


I loved meeting Rosemary. Her story moved me in ways I can’t even put into words, but one thing I know for sure is that I saw Jesus and I fell more in love with him than I thought possible. Rosemary is one of the widows whose house has been sold (she was renting) and will now have to leave that slum. She does not know where she will go as of yet. About 100 widows are being kicked out of their homes this fall. I first mentioned this in my blog and God has now begun to create a way to help these women. Many of you have graciously offered to help support buying a piece of land where they can live permanently. That plan is now quickly becoming a reality!

We are moving ahead on the land for relocation. I spoke with the widows this week about two possibilities. Things are moving and I just know that Jesus will provide a place for his beloved brides! As soon as I have a fixed amount for the land I will let you all know.

Thank you to those of you who have stepped forward to support this project financially. You are making an incredible investment into the Kingdom of God! All of the money will go directly to helping these widows. If you have not helped and would like to, please contact Lisa Tschetter at lisatschetterr@comcast.net She is handling everything for me in the US.

We are funding this project through Cornerstone Development in Uganda. Cornerstone has a greater ministry to widows country wide. They hope to create a Widows Center which will provide temporary living accommodations, food, training and economic opportunity for adults, and spiritual support. In the future, it is possible that the Center would offer schooling for children and medical assistance for the residents. The center will comprise of the dormitories, Dinning hall, main hall, chapel and kitchen. It is my hope that when we complete this project for the Dorcas Widows that we can help other widows throughout Uganda.

Update on my life:

I had a fantastic week last week. I was able visit my family’s sponsored children as well as my own and it was pure joy! The lives of these families have been transformed! They are now becoming more self-sufficient and it is beautiful to behold! I only have a month left here and I get so sad every time I think about it. How can I leave these ladies? I am so happy here and so alive. One thing is certain; I know I will be back.

Much love,
Kari

A Widow’s Desperation & God’s Intervention

“I will betroth you to me forever; I will betroth you in righteousness and justice, in love and compassion. I will betroth you in faithfulness, and you will acknowledge the Lord.” Hosea 2: 19,20

Every girl longs to hear a man pledge his undying love to her. She longs to know that he wants to protect and provide for her as long as they both shall live. Somewhere deep down women long to be seen as someone’s beloved. They want to inspire their man to do pursue them with romantic gestures and to do great and mighty things to show the world that he loves her. Little girls dream of that day when the man they love notices them, pursues them and takes them to be their bride. As women, we grow up dreaming about what such a moment will feel like: How will we react? What will we be wearing? How will he ask us to be his radiant bride? It is an electric feeling full of wonder and anticipation. We dream of the day when we will commit our lives to each other; never to be alone again. Love is alive and creating its beauty inside of us.

So, what happens when suddenly the wife’s great love is taken from her? When death inserts its nasty claws into her love nest and snatches her husband, replacing her happiness and security with loneliness and despair. In an instant, she goes from being loved to being alone. Her status as cherished wife suddenly changes to neglected widow. The world crashes down around her and she longs for someone to rescue her from the pit she has fallen into. As she sits at the bottom of the pit crying for a savior; one suddenly appears. God sends his only son to find this widow and claim her as his beloved radiant bride. Jesus weds her and creates a beauty in her she has never known.

Ruth started her life as a radiant bride. Her husband paid her father 10 cows for her and their wedding was a celebration the whole village enjoyed. Her husband treated her with kindness, respect and tender compassion. Ruth had found a good man and she knew it. Life was good, secure and full of promise. Little did she know that life as she knew it would not last. Death came and took her husband in 2003. He died suddenly and without warning. She grieved and mourned his death. In fact she could not figure out how to stop crying. She cried all morning until midday, then she cried all afternoon and often throughout the night. She missed him. It was hard to imagine even one day without him by her side. She was heartbroken. In an instant she lost everything, her friend, her lover, her protector and her provider. How would she feed her five children? How would she pay their school fees?

In the darkest moment of despair, she reached out to her sisters but they told her to go home. They could not help her. They could barely feed their own family and could not support her. Then she reached out to her brother’s in law, but they told her that they had enough problems with their own families. Everyone she reached out to ignored her cries for help. She felt so betrayed and even worse she felt so completely alone. She became full of rage and bitterness. Soon this bitterness developed into a deep depression. She could not get out of bed. She could not stop crying. She could not leave her house. In this haze of despair, she decided to poison her children and then to poison herself.
Before executing her plan, she decided to go to the lunch hour prayer service near her home to make peace with God before she killed her family. As she entered the church, the pastor looked at her and nodded his head. She noticed him looking directly at her and nodding his head. It was odd, but she was so depressed it didn’t seem to matter. As the preacher stood, he pointed to her and said, “Mama, would you stand up?” With every ounce of energy, she stood. The pastor looked directly in her eyes and said, “Jesus loves you. He LOVES you. He sees you. He sees the trouble you are in and he will help you. He will provide for you and not leave you hungry. But, please mama do not do what you have planned to do.” Suddenly, Ruth fell to the ground and sobbed. She wondered how could God love her if he had taken her husband from her. She wondered how she would feed her children. She wondered how she would pay their school fees, but she went home and did not poison her children.

Then the pastor visited her in her home and began to share the scriptures with her. He told her that Jesus did love her and see her. He told her that Jesus weds himself to the widows and becomes their husband in order to meet their every need. In one last desperate attempt, The next morning she began to pray. She asked God to provide food for her children. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. She got up and opened her door. Her neighbor was standing there with her arms full of cooked food. Ruth was shocked and could barely speak. Her neighbor had been praying and God had told her to come feed the Widow Ruth. They ate for 3 days on that food and it nourished their bodies, but more importantly it began to heal the hurt and fear. Another day, another neighbor came with money saying that God had told him to give it to the Widow Ruth. Jesus was keeping his promise. When he vowed to be this widow’s husband. He vowed to take care of her needs, to protect her and to love her. Now daily he was doing just that.

For the last three years Ruth has lived with no income and Jesus has fed her children every day. One day last week, God told Ruth to go to the market to buy food, but she had no money. However, after three years of trusting her heavenly husband, she knew a good surprise was in store for her. She dressed and walked to the market where she waited for God to provide for her. A teenage boy approached her and asked how she was doing. His parents knew her and had asked him to go inquire about her needs. She told the boy that God had sent her to the market to get food, but that she was waiting for him to show her how to buy the food. The boy then gave her 20,000 Schillings (about $15) and told her to buy food for the week. His parents had been praying and sent the boy to find her. Day after day, month after month and year after year, God has been a faithful husband. He found her dirty, lonely and crushed in spirit and has now turned Ruth into a radiant, vibrant, beautiful woman.

As for Ruth, she told me yesterday that she is done with men, she is married now to Jesus and serves him alone. She told me, “Kari, that is what God can do. I bring all my problems to my God, to my husband, and he takes care of them. I am well loved, well protected and well provided for. It is only God who can do that. You just trust him and he will provide. He will love you better than anyone.” Sounds like a woman in love doesn’t it?

As a follower of Jesus, will you be a widow's husband? Will you love, honor and cherish her? Will you provide for her and protect her? One thing is sure, even if you won't--Jesus will.

Update on the Widows:

I am still visiting widows and it is still overwhelming. I am learning that God loves his widows and will do miraculous things to provide for them. He is a good husband! I hope you are as moved by Ruth’s story as I was. I love stories of rescue where love is displayed as the most beautiful part!

We are still working with the widows to get a good plan for the land written on paper. We will meet with them in the next two weeks to get something in writing so you can finally see what we have been doing here. Thank you so much to the many of you that have contributed to helping these widows! God is using it as another confirmation of his great love for his bride!

I think we can get land for about $13,000 but the dollar is steadily dropping in value, so I will let you know what the final price is when we get everything written down. Also, we will need to begin construction of simple homes for the widows after the land is purchased, which is why I put a new target of $15,000. That way some homes could be built with the excess money. Right now, I am estimating how much everything will cost, but as we get everything in writing it will become more fixed.

Thank you so much for your tender hearts for the poor!!

Update on my life:

I am so excited to leave on Monday for Rakai where I will visit my sponsored children. I couldn’t be more excited to see all the fabulous Rakai staff again and to connect with all those we love in that region. At this point Veronica is planning on traveling with me which will be so fun!! I am one lucky girl!

It has been incredibly rainy this week and a little chilly. Many here say that “it is winter today.” I think it feels good not to be roasting, but I understand that they are used to the heat. I am happy and healthy, but keep praying for me. I am sure that is what keeps me going!

Much love,
Kari

At Home With The Widows

“Sing to God, sing praise to his name, extol him who rides on the clouds—his name is the Lord—and rejoice before him. A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling.” Psalms 68: 4,5


It is an awkward thing when you see poverty and suffering up close and personal. It is one thing to see a malnourished child with flies hovering over his mouth on television, but quite another to bend down shake hands with him and to stare into his withdrawn eyes. Poverty and suffering from a distance are tolerable. It is easy to walk away from it and believe that things are not really as bad as they look on TV. However, it is quite another when the underweight snot nosed child stares up at you, clings to your skirt and asks you for your time and attention. Your heart starts to beat faster and you begin to sweat as you stand still and hold that child. Suddenly, the effects of poverty and suffering stare you right in the face daring you to do something about their presence. The moment intensifies and our first instinct is to run—to get away from the pain, but we follow a God who doesn’t run from suffering. In fact we serve a God who embraces it. A God who promises to turn our mourning into dancing and our grieving into shouts of joy. We serve a God who loves those malnourished orphans and suffering widows.

I was invited into God’s holy dwelling this week. Several widows invited me into their homes where I listened to their powerful stories of suffering and sat beside them as we prayed to the God that loves them. Have you ever known that you were in a holy place? Have you ever been somewhere and felt the very hairs on the back of your neck stand up? In those moments something deep within your spirit recognizes that the divine has now come close enough to touch. As I entered each widow’s home, I saw the evidence of poverty and I heard their painful stories of loss and to be honest there were times when I felt like it was too much to bear. How do you sit with a woman twice your age and hold her as she cries because she cannot feed her children every day. However, each time we began to pray the hairs on the back of my neck would stand at attention and I would know that God was in that place. I am yet to fully comprehend the ways of Jesus but I know now in a deep place that God dwells with the fatherless and the widows.

Slowly I walked up to a three room concrete home. Suddenly a woman showed up at the door with three little children clinging to her skirt. She smiled broadly, hugged me and welcomed me into her home. We sat in a small room where pictures of those who are no longer with her hang on the wall. They are visual reminders of her deep pain of loss. Joyce is an Acholi from Northern Uganda. She grew up in a war zone learning early how to run from the fighting and where the best places to hide were. One day, she heard the familiar sounds of bullets and soldiers, so she ran to hide. After the violence was over, she returned home to find her parents in a pool of their own blood. As a 15-year-old girl, she was terrified, but she pulled their bodies from the open space and began to prepare them for burial. After their death, she stayed with some of her relatives until she got married. One day soldiers killed her husband forcing her to leave the northern part of Uganda with her small daughter. Then just last year her only daughter was killed in a traffic accident in Kampala. As if that was not enough, her remaining siblings have all died due to war and AIDS, so she is now caring for 15 of her siblings children. I am not sure even how 15 children fit into those three rooms. As I was getting up to leave she grabbed my hands and began to cry, “I’m alone. Everyone in my family is dead and I am the only one remaining. Why? Why did I live?” I reached my arms around her and then I looked her in the eye and said, “I see you. I hear you. I see the pain on your face, but I don’t why God allows some to die while others live. Please know that I will not forget you and neither will the people who hear about you.” We prayed and asked God to intervene in her life and to provide for her children. God seemed to be crying with us. He was present. Then we talked about the new land that is coming and the people in America who have decided to support her and the other widows. Slowly a small bit of hope began to spread across her face.

Then Joyce asked me to visit her friend. Joyce told me that this woman was really suffering. I was still trying to take in the great sense of loss I felt from her, so I wasn’t sure what she meant by “a woman who is really suffering.” Her friend was also Acholi and had come south after soldiers killed her husband. Some of her children have now died and she is caring for 6 of her grandchildren. As we came to her dwelling, I suddenly understood Joyce’s concern. This elderly woman and her children were living in an old bathhouse. It is a small structure originally intended for people to use for bathing and it had fallen into disrepair, as it had not been used for many years. It smelled moldy and musty. It was very dark and dank inside and not fit for a goat let alone a woman and her six children. They have no furniture and lay on the floor to sleep. They have no outhouse so; they must use a neighbor’s. It has no house number as it is slated to be condemned. It was never intended to be used as a home. It was so difficult not to just break down and cry. I wanted to scream and get angry at the injustice of it all. How can this be happening? All I could do was hold her and begin to pray. There was more righteous anger in that room than just mine. The Holy Spirit seemed to be present and his righteous anger over this injustice seemed to dwarf my own. I felt that divine presence so clearly; I almost thought it might become visible.

I spent 7 hours going from house to house. Hearing one story of loss after another. Experiencing God’s presence as I prayed with each widow. I held poverty’s hand and looked suffering in the eye. I embraced them and was shocked to find the God of the universe there. It seems he dwells there.

God loves these women and he will not rest until his followers take notice and do something about it. Pray but do not forget to act. Over the last few weeks, some people from the United States have listened to God’s love for the widows and decided to take action. They have sent money for these widows to purchase a land of their own where they can build new homes for themselves. They have begun to partner with these women to meet their needs. They have decided to hold the hand of poverty and look into the eyes of the suffering. We are a new generation of Christ followers that know the beauty of embracing the poor. So, next time you see poverty whether from a distance or clinging to your skirt, stay there in that moment. Know them, pray for them and do something about it.

Update on the widows:

As you have just read I have started spending my time visiting each of the 100 widows. It is a large undertaking and emotionally exhausting, but my favorite time of the week. I can tell you that the needs are immense. Last week, I gave some money to help one of the widows clear up a vaginal infection and am happy to report that she is now on medication. Two of the widows I visited were shaking with fever as they had malaria. Both of them did receive treatment for it. I have now visited over 20 widows and each one told me that housing was there primary concern. They are not sure what will happen when they are kicked out of their homes (if you can call them that.) So, there only hope is you!! They have organized a representative committee of widows to work with a lawyer to find a good piece of land. They are currently looking at land. When they find a piece of land that they all agree on, they will want to purchase it. I am hopeful that it will be sometime in July. Simon Kabi is also helping these widows create a written plan and budget.

I think we have now raised about $4,500 but are hoping to raise $15,000. Right now an anonymous donor has offered a matching gift up to $5,000, so if you gave $100 the donor would also put in $100. This is a great time to give as it will double your efforts!! If you are interested in giving to this project please contact Lisa Tschetter at lisatschetter@comcast.net She will be glad to help you and to keep you updated! All donations are tax deductible.

Update on my life:

Well, I have now been here for 3 months and I couldn’t be happier! It is really starting to feel like home. Simon Kabi has been a great host and I have enjoyed having a friend from home here too. This city has started to feel less foreign and new and more like a comfortable place to live. I still have not explored everything here, but it is nice to know that I am now officially a Ugandan Muzungu. Even the staff at Cornerstone has begun to tell new visitors that I am a local not a visitor. “ Oh no, she is Ugandan.” I love when they say that!

This weekend I went to a wedding. The church service was quite similar except for the beautiful African wear, but the reception was quite different. First, the bride and groom entered then the groom’s tribal dances were done by a professional troop. They were fantastic. The best part was when the groom’s family joined in. Then began to 3 hour-long series of speeches. This part was just too much for me to bear, so I went out into the parking lot to talk with the others who had wandered outside. After the speeches, we all ate traditional Ugandan food and talked with one another. It lasted from 2pm to 8:30, so it was definitely an all day affair.

This week I will go to the Uganda Visa office to extend my visa, as it will run out before I leave in August. Please pray that this goes smoothly! I will be visiting more widows, teaching English with the boys at Kibuli, and working on some writing projects. The following week I will be in Rakai seeing all of my sponsored kids. I can’t wait!

I will leave you with one funny story—I went to a bank to change some of my dollars over to shillings. Often a painful experience as the dollar continues to drop in value every week. Anyway, I gave the teller my money and she gave me the shillings. Later that night I was at a grocery store. As I handed the clerk the money, she looked it over then pushed an alarm button. The manager and security came over to inspect the bill. I was starting to feel a bit nervous. Then they asked me where I got it and explained that it was a fake. I was so shocked! Anyway, all of my other money is fine, except for this 20,000 Schilling note, which is worth about $12. TIA!!!!!

Well, love to you all!

Kari

PS. I added more pictures to the widows and friends files. Check it out!

Do You Know What A Rooster is Worth?

“My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life.” Psalms 119: 50


Today I traveled out past the bustling city of Kampala to the beautiful forest of Kasangombe. It was a picturesque drive. There were lush green banana trees and crops and grasses of all kinds as far as the eye could see. Everything was a perfect color of green which was a beautiful contrast to the deep rust red of the soil. As I watched the beauty of Uganda pass me by, I thought about how great it was to be in the Pearl of Africa. It is such a place of infinite beauty. With all this grandeur around me, how could it be possible that inside those lush banana groves there lies deep human suffering?

As we entered the village I suddenly became very aware of the lack of resources at this communities disposal. Children looked malnourished and adults looked weary and tired. This place saw the worst fighting during the bush war—the great war where Musevini took power over Uganda. Nearly, the entire infrastructure was destroyed thrusting the people into chaos and poverty. Now nearly twenty years later little has changed. World Vision has now stepped into the community to rebuild schools, clinics, homes and most importantly people. They have trained counselors that meet with community members in order to help people overcome the trauma of their past and to open to the great possibility of the future.

We suddenly turned off the main road onto a footpath that would now serve as a road for our vehicle. We were headed to Charles Kalema’s home. Charles is being sponsored by my brother and sister in law. As we drove deep into the bush we saw a home that had just been built by World Vision for a group of siblings whose parents had just died. The 15 year old is now the head of the household and caring for all her siblings alone. We saw homes built for widows who were barely surviving. Then we arrived at a simple mud hut with a thatched roof. A young woman came shyly forward to meet me. She introduced herself as Charles’s mother and then walked me around their compound. They had one group of sticks that formed a shield where they bathed every day. They had one small mud structure where they cooked the food for the day. It was simple. It was poverty at it’s best.

Quietly, Charles appeared from the other side of the home. He was quite skinny and small for his age, which is one marker of malnutrition. He was so reserved, but smiled broadly when I showed him pictures of his sponsors. He took the book made for him by my brother and sister in law and held it close to his chest. He gripped it tightly and seemed to hold on to it like a security blanket. Then he took the book and the other items I gave him into the hut and carefully, one by one, put them into a plastic sack. He then walked me over to the garden his family cultivates and showed me well kept banana trees, cassava plants and eggplants. With the help of World Vision they were now beginning to eat better. They were able to plant more vegetables and to sell some for some little money. His sponsorship was also keeping him in school and giving him access to medical care, but it is not enough to pull him out of poverty or to allow him to live in a house that doesn’t melt every time it rains. Because Charles still has his mother and father, he is not as vulnerable as those who are single and double orphans, so they will not receive a new concrete home. There just simply isn’t enough money to build every family a home, so they must pick only the neediest of the neediest.

His mother graciously invited me into her home, washed my hands and gave me the most delicious cup of African tea and bread. As we ate this love gift, I talked to her. I learned where she grew up, when she met her husband and what she loved most about her son. As we were speaking she suddenly stood up and went into the other room and came back out with a huge stack of papers. She handed them to me with such care that I knew they were certainly something special. Looking down I realized that they were Charles’s report cards and schoolwork. I oohed and ahhed over each page and celebrated his success with her. She was so proud of him. I could see it in her eyes.

After we talked for some time, I asked her what her biggest challenge was. As soon as I asked the question, her shoulders slumped and she seemed to deflate a little. Then she answered quietly that four of her children had died before they were 6 months old and they last one they buried only a few months ago. Her eyes turned a deep red and her face struggled to hold back the tears. All I could say was a sympathetic, “Sorry, I am so sorry.” Then she almost whispered, “I am wondering if I am cursed.” I looked at her and recognized the signs of deep pain and despair. This woman was locked in emotional hell and was struggling to hold on. I quickly changed the subject to remove some of the pressure and we finished out tea. As we took our last sips, I asked if I could pray for her and her family. She readily accepted and I closed my eyes and waited for the words to come. I then heard myself ask God to give her comfort in her mourning, to break all the curses that the evil one had put into place and to protect her from all spirits that would come to destroy her. I asked the Holy Spirit to come and be with her—to invade her spirit with great amounts of love and peace. I reminded the Lord that he loves the poor and that he longs to comfort those who mourn. It was a holy moment full of pain and promise.

As we walked through the lace fabric separating the inside from the outside, I noticed that the father had been to the garden and was preparing something for me. Before I left to see what it was, I turned and hugged Charles’s mother. I wanted her to know that God dwells in the pain with us and that God’s people love those in pain. I hoped that hug communicated that and encouraged her to know that there are people that love her. I hugged Charles and then turned to see what they had prepared. The father had collected several bunches of fresh sweet bananas from his garden and taken their rooster in his arms. He then handed me their rooster and I stood in awe at this great gift.

This rooster is a necessary part of their farm life. A rooster is needed to create more hens to sell at the market. He gave me a dearly expensive gift without any fanfare and with a gentle graciousness. I had loved and listened to his wife and now he was loving me by giving me something precious to him. Could any of us give something precious to us to a stranger at our door? Would we dare love so extravagantly? Maybe that is why God says that the poor will indeed see the kingdom of God.

Update on the Widows:

I have made it my personal mission to visit each widow in her own home before I leave. It is a massive undertaking, but I feel up to the challenge. I visited four widows this week and I was left feeling overwhelmed. The first woman I visited was a schoolteacher in a respected school in town before HIV/AIDS took her eyesight, now she lies inside her small house while her children look after her. The next widow has now been left paralyzed by AIDS and can barely talk. It is difficult to understand her, but through her garbled words, I know her mind is still sharp. AIDS is such a nasty disease. It takes everything from you—your beauty, your dignity, and your ability to be independent. It is grotesque and impossible to ignore.

Two women came to the widows meeting this week complaining of severe pain in their “private parts.” AIDS has caused a fungus to grow inside them that is literally eating them from the inside out. Rosemary came to me right away before the meeting began and introduced me to these women who just stood and cried. I asked if they had seen a doctor. Rosemary said yes and then produced a prescription from her pocket. She informed me that they are supposed to take this medicine to clear up the infection, but that they had no money to get the medicine. It was so obvious these women were in pain and they even offered for me to see their wound, but I just couldn’t look. It was too much for me, so I asked how much the medicine cost. It was just under $12 so I gave freely and without even thinking about it and it felt so good. My selfishness seems to be lessening and God seems to be giving me hands that are not gripped so tightly to what I have. God is good! More importantly, I heard from one of the widows today that they woman now has her medication. Praise the Lord!!

The widows have been looking at some properties and now in the process of writing a proposal complete with itemized costs. I will let you know when that part of the project is finalized so we can begin funding their future! Thank you again to those of you partnering with this dear lady!

We also met with a pastor of another local church here in town about starting another widows group. He wholeheartedly agreed so we will now be involved with two widows groups. God is growing this by leaps and bounds! It will be fun to see what happens!

Update on my life:

I have settled into a routine here at Simon’s house and it is nice to have such an inviting place to come back to. It is also nice to have a ride into and back from Cornerstone. Simon and I have worked out a deal of sorts…he kills all cockroaches and I cook dinner every night. Mary—I am doing what I promised and cooking for your husband!

I am also more and more feeling like I am finally “home.” I can’t explain exactly what I mean by that other then I feel like God has finally put me in a place where I have peace. Where somewhere deep down I know I am in exactly the place created for me. It is a great feeling and one I am breathing in deeply with the time I have remaining.
I am also feeling so much more comfortable with the city itself. I can take public buses and (rarely, although sometimes) get lost. I know the names of streets and areas of the city. When people talk about places in the city I know where they are talking about. I love the independence it is giving me—I can travel alone around the city and feel confident that I know where I am going and where to get off the bus. I am understanding more L’Ugandan everyday and even some, though very little, of the Angel’s language (the language spoken in Gulu). All in all, I feel settled here and it is great!

I also have made some incredible friends. God always seems to give me the best people for me to love and to love me back. I am blessed beyond measure by that!

This week I will see Kirk & Lindsey’s other sponsored child, visit more widows in their homes and teach English at Kibuli Boys Home—it will be a full week, but a good one. I am also going to a wedding of one the Cornerstone guys this Saturday which will be a lot of fun. Last weekend, I went to my first rugby game. Uganda was playing Namibia and guess what? Uganda won!!! It was very exciting and a lot of fun!

I will try to upload photos of the sponsored child visits as well as the rugby game this week so keep checking my pictures link!

Love to you all!
Kari

Growing An Oak Of Righteousness

“The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of he Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of out God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion—to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor.” Isaiah 61: 1-3

As Jesus began his public life, he entered the temple and read these words from Isaiah, added nothing to them and sat back down. People in the temple were shocked and perplexed. What did it all mean? Was Jesus really saying that he had the power to heal the physical, spiritual and emotional wounds of people? Could he really change people’s mourning into dancing? Could he really turn despair into shouts of joy? To those ancient Jews this kind of talk was scandalous at best and blasphemous at its worst. Even to my modern ears this kind of talk is still just as scandalous. I think we are all still wondering if Jesus really has the ability to turn our sorrow into joy and our deep pain into shouts of praise. Can my weak spirit really be turned into a strong oak of righteousness?

I went to heaven this week, not the one with winged angels and streets of gold, but the one whose name means heaven. I went to Gulu in Northern Uganda. Heaven is a strange word to associate with this place, as it has been the site of war and chaos for the last 25 years. This region has been overrun with rebels for nearly a quarter of a decade. These rebels have kidnapped children forcing them to murder their fellow community members. They have destroyed villages, raped women, executed any that oppose them and created a place where violence is a daily occurrence. It is a land more associated with hell than with heaven.

Miraculously within the last year, peace has slowly invaded this place of chaos and for the time being the guns are silent. The rebel group is currently in discussion with the Ugandan government and everyone is holding their breath and praying for a peace that will last. Thousands of people have spent the last 20 years living in Displaced People’s camps without access to clean water, food, education or health care. One camp I visited had over 15,000 people living almost on top of each other. They had one working well, one medical clinic with only one medical assistant, and not enough food to keep the children free from large distended stomachs. When I asked the family I was visiting what they wanted most. They simply said, ”I want to go home. I want peace.”

It is in the backdrop of this great suffering that the Cornerstone Youth Corps Homes exist to care for the children who have lost everything. They don’t have family that can care for them either because they are dead or because they are violent. As it turns out violence often times breeds violence. Therefore many of these children come into town and live on the streets. They learn to steal to survive. They learn to be tough and to numb their emotions. They learn not to trust anyone. They learn that hope is dead and survival is all that matters. It is these children who are the least among the least that are invited to come to the Cornerstone Youth Corps Homes.

As I entered the gate and first laid eyes on this home that invites those who have deep painful wounds of despair to live among them; I wondered if Jesus could really turn despair into dancing, mourning into gladness and turn these bruised wicks into oaks of righteousness?

Over the days I was living with these children, I saw the pain just behind their eyes. The youngest ones would cry easily over seemingly small things. Rodney, who is one of the youngest among the boys, was asked to brush his teeth. He flat out refused and tried to run away from the home. The older boys ran after him and brought him back to the mentor where he cried for almost 25 minutes. Finally with huge tears streaming down his face, he brushed his teeth. Whenever I took this little one’s picture he would put up his fists and try to look tough. Still every day, I would hug him, smile at him and try to talk to him. I poured the love that Jesus had given me into his hard little heart. Would this little love offering allow God to do what he claimed he could do? I wondered.

The last evening I was with the kids, we gathered at about 6:00pm to dance. Over the last week they had met each evening to practice their tribal dance. This dance helps remind these bruised children that they belong to a greater community. They are Acholi and it is good to be Acholi. So, I stood by Rodney as they danced to the rhythm of the drum. This dance requires cooperation and a great willingness to move in the same rhythm as those around you. They looked deeply into each other’s eyes and tried to move as one united group. They sang the words out loud and proud in harmony with each other. Suddenly, as I looked around I saw joy. I don’t know exactly when it came, but it was there. As they danced their spirits seemed to release some of the pain and they seemed lighter. They were laughing. They were smiling from deep within. When I looked down into Rodney’s face there was a genuine look of joy. It was the first time I had seen him look like that all week.

They continued dance after dance until the sky grew dark and all I could see was their white teeth glowing in the darkness. Suddenly, the oldest girls and boys began to dance toward the house. They entered the home still singing, laughing and dancing. The lights were switched on and the sound of their voices became deafening. As I moved toward the house I felt a small hand in mine. I was surprised to see Rodney’s hand holding mine. Suddenly, he looked less like a tough street kid and more like a small 9-year-old boy.
He held my hand as we danced together. Suddenly, I found myself laughing too.

Then in a shift I could barely perceive, I heard the name of Jesus being sung in Acholi-Yesu, Yesu, Yesu. I stopped and looked around. These children were jumping, dancing, throwing their hands in the air and with great smiles they were singing of God’s great love. I turned around and around in the middle of it all and suddenly I witnessed God turning these same children who had I seen in deep despair throughout the week into children who were shouting praise to the God that loved them. All at once the singing began to wind down and the children began to pray. Some knelt on the ground, some leaned against the wall, some stood with arms raised, some walked around the room, but all of them began to talk to God. I heard all their voices at once, some still joyously praising God for his goodness, some crying and asking God for his grace, some just moaning. Jesus’ precious orphans were talking to the God that loves them and it was a holy moment.

As this time of praise and worship ended, Rodney followed me to my room. He tugged at my dress and showed me a scratch he had on his leg. Then he asked me for a band-aid. This wound was in no need of a band-aid, but I think he was in need of some motherly love. I seriously studied the small scratch; put lots of anti biotic on it and then the biggest band-aid I could find. More importantly I hugged him. He then asked me if I would be his friend. “I would love too,” I responded. “Will you come back?” He asked. “I would love to.” And I would love to. I know it takes more than band-aids and a week to make a real relationship that will create lasting change, but it dawned on me that God was here all the time. He was creating gladness in the midst of despair. He was turning mourning into dancing and it was beautiful to behold.

I wondered-- will Rodney’s weak little heart so frail with pain and rejection ever be an oak of righteousness that displays God’s splendor? In that same moment, I looked at all the mentors living in that house and realized with deep amazement that God had turned their same weak bruised war torn spirits into large strong oaks of righteousness and I had spent a week marveling at God’s beautiful splendor as it poured out of them in the form of love for these bruised children.

As followers of Jesus, we can be sure that he will comfort those who mourn, he will grieve with those that grieve, he will turn despair into gladness and he will slowly grow those in pain into strong oaks of righteousness. Jesus spoke those words so long ago and it gives me great joy to know that he is who he claims to be.

Update on my life:

I had a fantastic week in Gulu. It was beyond words. I saw people living in conditions I never thought possible in the IDP camps. It was heartbreaking and it has forced me to pray more earnestly for peace. I hope you will join me! It also gave me great insight as to why the widows fled their homeland. I can’t wait to talk to my dear widows about Gulu. It will be good to share that with them. Seeing the Youth Corps program there was so good. The mentors do a fabulous job with those kids. I am amazed and so inspired!

I was also able to spend time with Lucy Atim, a very good friend. She looks just as lovely as ever and I enjoyed seeing her apartment. By the way, she is a fantastic cook! The lunch she made was very good! I can’t wait to see her again, as I am hoping to head up to Gulu again sometime soon.

My friend, Jens, arrived yesterday and is enjoying his first few days in Uganda. It is nice to have a friend from home to share all of this with.
My week will be more “normal” this week as I am in Kampala all week. I will see the widows tomorrow and will give you a better update on their plan next week. Please keep praying for them!

I uploaded a bunch of pictures from Gulu, the Youth Corps Homes, and my friends, so check it out. Just click the pictures link on the side of my blog.

Much love,
Kari

My Friends We Are Not Crazy

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” John 14:27

Life without peace is really no life at all. When all peace is gone life becomes a moment-by-moment struggle to protect one’s self from despair, destruction and death. What should be certain becomes uncertain. Where you expect to find love, you find only emptiness. Deep inside, your soul becomes weary and dead to the world. Hope becomes a commodity you simply can’t afford. You are only surviving and for what? Hours turn into days, days turn into weeks and weeks turn into years.

Sadly this is the reality for many abducted children in the Gulu region of Northern Uganda where a war between the rebel group, The Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), and the Ugandan government has raged for 20 long years. Thousands have lived a better part of their lives in Internally Displaced People’s Camps (IDP). Thousands of children have been abducted and forced to kill on demand. Others have spent their short lives hiding in trees, in concrete structures, and in muddy riverbeds to escape being abducted by the rebels. Recently, Mr. David Lamojong, a long time resident of Koro-Abili camp, a large IDP near Gulu town, lamented about the suffering of his people. He simply said, “. 'We are not crazy people who enjoy seeing our people suffering and getting destroyed...'“ There is a deep longing for peace in this place. You can feel the weight of it in the air.

Within Gulu town there is another revolution entering into this long war of destruction. There is a revolution of love and peace being planted in this hotbed of violence. Two homes rest quietly in the middle of this weary place that offers peace and love to children the war has assaulted. Cornerstone Development Uganda has started two Youth Corps Family homes where boys and girls can be loved and given a peaceful place to rehabilitate from their past. These homes reach out to the homeless and directionless youth who have been beaten down by these long years of death and disease. Mentors in each home bathe them with the love of God and provide them with a new sense of family. They feed them, clothe them, shelter them and provide art, drama, and music therapy for them. Slowly, these fragile children become stronger. They learn how to love again, how to trust, how to hope and how to believe in peace. It is a long journey back to this place full of set backs and challenges, but we serve a God who says that love never fails and that peace is possible.

Each Youth Corps Family Home houses between 25-30 children. These children come with deep scars and mountains of pain. This January, Tony (14) and Morris (12) joined the boy’s home. Tony was abducted when he was small and forced into child slavery by the LRA. Joseph Kony, the commander of the LRA rebel group, forced Tony to care for his children. After three years Tony was rescued. On returning home, he found that he had lost both his parents to HIV/AIDS. He didn’t know where to go so he went back into the bush and back to LRA. Twisted as it seems, it was the only home he knew. It was a place where he could eat every day and where things were familiar. Because he went back on his own accord he was not severely punished.
Some time later, he was rescued once more during combat as bullets flew in the air and as boys fired rifles at men twice their size. Once back in Gulu town Tony went through the rehabilitation process. He was also reunited with his younger brother Morris. Tony was overjoyed to have found his brother and to have some link to the family he so desperately missed.

Tony and Morris decided to go back to Koro, a village near Gulu town. Tony then began working as a bricklayer in order to support himself and his younger brother. Each day he made brick after brick, turning the hard dry earth into a thick mud, putting the thick heavy mud into a cast and then drying it again under the heat of the sun. It was hard labor. His back ached and his body became weary. Then at the end of each day, he was given 1,000 Shillings for his backbreaking work—the equivalent to $0.50 cents. That $0.50 cents was enough for Tony and Morris to share one meal a day of porsha and beans. They were barely surviving. It seemed hope itself had abandoned them. That is when Laker (La Kay), the director of the Youth Corps Family Homes-Northern Uganda, found them. He then arranged for them to come to the Youth Core Family Boy’s Home. Slowly, slowly these boys are learning what it means to love and be loved.

Even though Tony has gone through counseling sessions, his life is still filled with bitterness and he still feels like returning to the bush—to his abductors. Tony has been in pain for so long that he doesn’t know who he is without it. When war is all you know, when the terror of violence becomes your friend, it takes the mighty warrior of love to break the bonds that evil set in place. It takes the Lion of Judah, our great warrior who defeated death once and for all, to rescue the ones that the evil one snatched for himself. No one, not even Tony, is too far gone for love to reach him—for peace to invade his soul. My friends, we are not crazy to believe that God rescues the oppressed and that he heals the most wounded of spirits.

Tony is one of hundreds of kids that are trying to understand who they are and how to become free of the abuse and terror of war. Laker has started a revolution of love and the resistance to it is great and there is no doubt a war raging in the heavenlies among the angels. With the full armor of God, Laker and his mentors continue to use the weapon of love to create peace in the lives of those they have rescued. They are trusting in God to do the impossible—to heal the wounded souls of these children. They are zealous in their passion for Jesus, their mighty warrior, and for the least and the lost among them.

How about you? Are you ready for battle? Do you see the children being stolen—their capacity for love and peace being ripped from their souls? Just like the story of the Samaritan we can look from the other side of the road, weep for them but continue on our life’s journey preoccupied with our daily responsibilities or we can stop, approach them, enter into relationship with them as they heal. The Samaritan used his resources to create the environment for healing. Will you use yours?



Update on the Widows:

Last week I recounted a humbling encounter with a widow who is HIV positive. She came hungry, terribly sick and depressed. She stood before us and cried. Then the rest of the widows began to empty the few coins they had from their pockets into the hands of this suffering widow. I thought about her all week. I wondered how she was. I wanted to somehow have another chance to bless her in some way—to show the love I had wanted to give to her the first time.

When I went to the widows group this Thursday, I searched the crowd for Jane’s sunken face; but she was not to be found. I wanted to show her the love that had been sent from across the ocean. My best friend created a beautiful scrapbook filled with encouraging words and scriptures. The book was created to give these widows a tangible reminder that we are sisters in Christ no matter how much distance separates us. As I shared the book with the widows they cheered, shook their heads and smiled from ear to ear. Then each of them got a chance to look at it. Their hands carefully turned each page, read each word and their hearts breathed in the love from across the ocean. The woman who made this book has also made a commitment to help these women with her resources. Here are mothers connecting from across the ocean through Christ and in love. That is what I wanted this dear sick neglected widow to see.

After the meeting I asked Rosemary where Jane was. She told me that she tried to come to the meeting, but was shaking with fever; so they sent her home to rest. I told them that I wanted to come the next day to see her and pray with her. If she needed anything I wanted to provide it freely and this time without reservation.

On Friday afternoon, I went to Nakowa to meet Joyce, Jane’s neighbor, as I was desperate to see this sick widow. As I approached the small three room concrete home, I saw this frail extremely thin woman sitting on a stool washing vegetables. She stood slowly and I greeted her. She hugged me with all the strength she had and I held her. Her fever was gone and she had some life back in her eyes. Joyce had come early in the morning to pray with her. She told her not to fear—that God had a plan for her life—that God healed the blind man and that he could heal her. After they prayed, Jane began to feel more encouraged and to regain some strength back. Then another widow, Ruth, came to pray with her. It was this incredible support from her fellow widows that allowed her to again trust God to do the impossible.

Jane had gone to a near by hospital and was told that she had TB, so she is now on ARV’s as well as a strong TB medication. These medicines are powerful and have powerful side effects, so Joyce knows that she will have to come often to help Jane care for her last born child who is two years old and like any two year old, she is busy, busy, busy. Jane’s other three children are back in the villages with relatives, as the relatives will not allow her children to be with her. Once her husband died of AIDS and the fact that she is now positive is stigmatized in her village, so her children were taken by relatives and she was kicked off her property and everything she had was taken from her. In fact, Jane told me that the relatives had even told her children and fellow villagers that she was already dead. The pain in which she talked about this injustice was overwhelming. What do you say? How do you respond to pain of this magnitude?

After listening to her pain and sorrow, I asked if we could pray together. She agreed and I closed my eyes imagining God sitting in his red royal throne with his crown of thorns pressed into his head with radiant light surrounding him on all sides. I knelt in front of him and asked him to love and care for Jane, his beloved widow. She was sick. She was rejected. She was heart broken. She felt hopeless. She was without so much. It was now time for the God of compassion to intervene-to put right what had gone wrong. To create resources for this widow so that she would know that she was not alone. I prayed that love would descend down heavily on her in all forms—physical relief, emotional relief and social relief. As I finished praying, I asked her if she had enough to eat. She said that the other widows were keeping her well fed and that she was relieved to now be eating. God says that he resides with the poor and in fact he does.

Already, God has spoken to many of you about these widows and you have freely offered your resources. God is literally answering my fervent prayers through you! Keep the momentum going. If you know others who want to help, encourage them to give like the widows. Anyone interested should contact Lisa Tschetter at lisatschetter@comcast.net She will help you get involved and get your resources to the right place. Otherwise feel free to contact me at kari.miller@usfamily.net Please click the photo link to see the widow’s pictures.

Update on my life:

I have now been living at the Kabi house and loving it! The house is so warm and inviting. Simon has been a great host and I have to say makes great pancakes! I am feeling much more comfortable using the public transportation and doing well getting around town. I had another great week with the boys at the Kibuli house. They are slowly learning English and accepting me as their “auntie.” I love being the “mom” of the house! This week Cornerstone hosted about 15 American college students so it was hectic around the office! Most of them have left so I think this week with be a little quieter.

On Friday, I had quite a scare—suddenly my computer began to erase all my files—all my email, all my documents—gone! Naturally, I started crying and praying. Those of you who know me well will not be surprised. However, it is NOT culturally appropriate to cry at work, so this caused quite a stir. Everyone looked extremely uncomfortable, but I had heard through someone else that there was ONE Mac store/repair here in town; so I told Charles to help me get there. Just to get me to stop crying, he quickly put me on a Bodaboda and sent me on my way. So, here I was crying on the back of a motorbike with my backpack strapped to my back. The Bode driver kept looking back with a puzzled look on his face. I am sure he was thinking-what is wrong with this muzungu?

When we arrived at the center of town, we found the one Mac place in town and I prayed that they would be able to fix it!! As I went into the store Charles begged me to stop crying as he said it would not help the situation, I tried, but just couldn’t hold it together. Well, now everyone in the Mac store looked extremely uncomfortable. Can we say culture clash? Anyway, the man took one look at my laptop and fixed it in 5 minutes and for about $10. Somehow the main directory of my computer had been put in the trash. I have no idea how that happened, but I am glad that my computer is back to normal. Praise the Lord!!

This weekend has been quiet and restful. I hope it has been that way for you too! I am leaving for Gulu on Tuesday and will not be back until next Sunday, so if you email and I don’t respond right away, know that I will as soon as I get back in town. I uploaded some images Laker, the director for Gulu, took last week. If you want to see where I am going click on the pictures link.

Much love,
Kari