Wednesday, June 27, 2007

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

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

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

Monday, June 11, 2007


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

Monday, June 4, 2007

The Widows Offering

“I tell you the truth,” he said, “this poor widow has put in more than all the others. All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on.” Luke 21:3,4

Giving out of our wealth…giving out of our wealth….Those words have rolled around in my mind and my soul this week. In fact they have had a haunting effect. In all honesty I give out of my wealth. I give out of the extra, the left over. I meet all my needs first. I make sure that I do not go without than I give what is left over. This kind of giving is all I have ever known. As Americans, we are taught from a very young age to use money to first meet our own needs and desires, then if we are compassionate to give to others. Over and over we are told to preserve ourselves first and applauded when we do just that. The individual is more important than the group. In essence my needs are more important than others. Yet Jesus told us to love our neighbor as we love ourselves--to put their needs equally as important as our own. Interestingly, Jesus did not notice those who gave out of their wealth, instead he noticed the impoverished widow who gave all she had. That’s right-- all she had. Would we ever dare be so risky? Would we ever be so foolish as to love God with all we have?

Every Thursday afternoon, I spend time with widows. I sit on the back of a motorbike and speed through the city of Kampala in order to spend a few hours with the women God notices. I have come to know their names. I recognize their faces in the crowd and see them as a collection of beautiful women who have been crushed by life’s cruelness. I see the devastating effects of HIV as it ravishes their bodies and leaves them feverish and full of sores. I hear stories of the orphans they love and care for despite their almost total lack of resources. I pray with them as they praise their great “King of Glory” asking him for food, shelter, improved health and school fees for their children. I sit among these suffering widows and my heart feels heavy. Sitting there you breathe in a combination of intense pain and long suffering hope. Sometimes, I feel so plastic—so fake. These are truly women of faith, dignity and intrinsic beauty. They have a depth of character and integrity that leaves me feeling shallow and naïve.

This last meeting was one to remember. After we danced, sang and celebrated surviving another week, Rosemary asked me to share what I knew about Jesus. I took a deep breath, stood and suddenly felt like a small child sharing their insight to the most learned adult. I opened to the book of John where it says that God loved the world so much that he gave his only son so that we might live. I told them how much I loved God for sending his son to die for me. I told them how I loved the story of the women at the tomb. They were the first to see that the Lord had risen just as he said he would. I told them that I asked God to come and be my husband. I wanted to love him as he loved me. I longed to know more of him so our intimacy might grow. It was a simple message, but it told of my heart’s love for Jesus.

One of the women in the group was a Muslim woman. The other widows of the group have shared the story of Jesus many times with this HIV ridden woman, but she always remained unrelenting in her desire to stay Muslim. They loved her anyway and accepted her in their group. Suddenly, as I sat down after my long love letter about my savior, she asked, “If I accept Jesus now, can I still be Muslim?” Everyone looked at me wondering what I would say. I sat quietly for a moment and then replied, “I can tell you this, if you ask Jesus to be with you then he will be. Then out of your love for him you will want to be around others who love him too.” Then the other widows began to testify one after the other how Jesus had rescued them. Joyce read the verse in Revelation about Jesus standing at the door knocking and waiting only for you to open the door. She also read the verse in Romans stating if you confess Jesus with your mouth, believe that he died for you and follow him you will be saved. Finally, I looked at this dear widow and said that the Bible has power and does not return empty, so the choice was hers. She bolted to her feet and said, “I am ready.” At this the whole group cheered and shouted, “Praise you, King of Glory.” Then we gathered around her, held her and another widow who spoke her language prayed with her. At the end, loud cries of delight were heard for miles around. Rosemary then told her neighbors to go to the widows house every day and teach her about Jesus.

As the meeting drew to a close, I was overwhelmed at how God had drawn this woman to himself. I walked out into the open field and began the long goodbye. One by one I hug the widows and we talk to each other. They share with me and I share with them. As we were laughing and celebrating our friendship, I heard Rosemary’s loud voice shouting, “Widows, widows …one of us is in trouble. Come and hear. Come. Come.” As I walked toward her I saw a young bony woman standing before her with her shoulders hunched into her chest. AIDS had stolen her shape and she was now no more than bones and skin. She stood there shivering as big tears rolled down her cheeks. I was so stunned. I just stood there and stared at her my eyes welling up with tears. Rosemary again began to speak, ”See our sister, our fellow widow. Her relatives have now disowned her and kicked her out of the house. Her and her children have not eaten for two days. We must help our sister. I want all of you to get the money you have out of your pockets so this widow and her children may eat.” The widows came in mass surrounded the young woman held her and talked to her. The others with HIV began to encourage her and as they did these women with nothing began to produce coins from their pockets worth nothing more than $0.25 or $0.50. Rosemary continued shouting, “Come widows give all you have to our fellow widow. She is in trouble. “ Widow after widow emptied their pockets giving this frail young widow their transportation money, their food money, their money they were saving for their children’s school fees.

I wish I had moved quickly emptying my purse of its contents, but I just stood there memorized by what I was seeing. How can they give everything? Is that smart? Then I thought how can they not give everything? I opened my purse and grabbed some money. For a brief moment, I thought about giving my wallet’s contents, but something inside whispered keep what you think you need to live on, to pay for your expensive taxi home, to go out to dinner this weekend. So, I gave but out of my excess. Somewhere inside me there was a feeling of deep sadness. What did Jesus say about the wealthy seeing heaven is like a camel going through the eye of a needle? In that moment I missed seeing what God would do. I pulled myself out of the blessing of giving to the least of these. I missed seeing heaven on earth because I couldn’t give like the widows. As I look at these words in print I feel deep shame and guilt. I backed away from the group as they surrounded this young frail widow and watched them give all they had. Shamefully, I looked at the ground and felt the deep disappointment of shrinking back from being Jesus’ hands and feet. Then the widows surrounded her in a tight circle lifted their hands to heaven and prayed for her. I felt like collapsing to the ground weeping over my innate selfishness. When will I ever be free from the sin that whispers death in my ears? When will I be strong enough to not listen to it? When will I learn to give like the widows?

One day I want to give, really give out of what I have not what I have left over. I want to see Jesus and I want Jesus to notice my gift. I want to love my neighbor. I want to free myself from the thoughts that tell me I am more important than others. For nothing is impossible with God, so even selfish suburban girls like me have hope for a new way of living. God will teach us giving if we let him. If we are willing to let go of what we think we own, then God will show us a new way to manage resources. Like Paul we will learn to be content with everything and with nothing because in the end it is all God’s to do with as he pleases. If he wants to give it all to his widows, then we will earn to give it freely. We will go without and it will not kill us, in fact we might really begin to live.

Will any of you be brave enough to ask God to teach you to give? Will you try it even once? Will you give and deprive yourself of what you need? I am trembling, but I want to learn to give, so I am brushing the dust off and continuing the journey. I hope to see you along the way.


Update:

There are 100 widows in the Dorcus widow group and many of them are being kicked off their land by August 1st. Several of us have decided to give of our resources to help them purchase a land of their own. The land will cost approximately $13,000. They want to build simple two room houses for each of the 100 widows on the new property. If you want to contribute to this effort, you may contact me at kari.miller@usfamily.net.

This last week has been great and full of activity. At the beginning of the week, I found out that I did not get the job at the International School. I was simply too expensive for them. They would have had to pay for a work visa, my housing and other “over seas hire” expenses, so that door has officially closed. I was surprised how sad I felt about not getting this job. I guess I really like living here and am happy staying right where I am.

I have continued to meet with the boys at Kibuli house. They are slowly learning English and warming up to me. I have loved developing relationships with them. In fact this last Friday, they finally told me that they would miss me over the weekend. This was a huge break through in our relationship!

I also moved from Veronica’s house to Simon Kabi’s house. I moved from one side of the city to another, so it will be fun to learn a new part of the city. Simon has been an excellent host and even made pancakes this morning for breakfast. I tell you it is like staying in a fine hotel. I love having my own room and bathroom. I miss Veronica though. She has been my rock. The person who has loved and cared for me though it all! I am excited though to get to know Simon better and to enjoy working on the widows project with him! God is going to something great!

Love to everyone at home!
Kari