Victory Amidst The Battle

“No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.” Romans 8:37

We all want to be conquerors. We want to come to the end of a long battle of pain and suffering and rise like a phoenix out of the ashes. We want to know that sweet taste of victory after those long years of bitter hardship. It just is so hard to believe that victory is possible when pain covers you like a thick blanket and fear snuggles up close to you. When all you see is failure, tragedy and hopelessness, it is hard to even imagine a day when the war will be over. Victory seems like a mirage in the desert, always hoped for, never attained. Yet, we serve a God who left the grave empty on Easter morning conquering the worst of human tragedy. Despite the worst of worst, Jesus promises us victory, but are we strong enough to believe it?

I went to check my email last Thursday at Garden City mall near the heart of Kampala. I love the Internet café in the mall as it always has electricity and a strong Internet signal. I spent about an hour responding to my friends and family and then left to find a restroom. As I walked to the bathrooms on the third floor, I saw Lovincer out of the corner of my eye. I met Lovincer last year as she worked as house help for a friend of mine. She is a widow and a mother of 4 children. I was surprised to see her on this side of town. As I came closer our eyes met and she came quickly over to greet me. We embraced each other and I noticed that she had grown very thin. Thin is not a compliment in Uganda as being thin is often the hallmark of hunger or disease.

I sat on a nearby bench with her and listened to what had happened to her in the last 5 months. The woman she worked for had left Uganda 4 months prior and since that time she had not been able to find employment. Now her landlord was pressuring her everyday for the back rent and threatening to throw her out of her one room apartment. Lovincer looked at me and said, “You can see how thin I am. I have not been able to properly feed my children or to take them to the clinic when they are sick. It is only God who can help me now.” She then told me that the sponsor who had been paying the children’s school fees could no longer do it after this term. At that point, she just stared out into the distance and shook her head. “I do have one good thing though. I just started a new job today cleaning this mall; although I am walking almost an hour and a half to get here, as I have no money for transportation. Also, I am not home for my children and some are still in primary school, but what can I do? We need to eat.” At that point the battle for survival just seemed so intense. There we sat huddled together like two scared people in a foxhole. I reached in my bag and gave her some money to get her through the next few days. It wasn’t the victory she needed. I was only the medic on the battlefield stabilizing the patient enough to survive the next few hours.

After I left the mall, I went back to the Cornerstone offices. As I entered I saw Phyllis, an older widow, standing in the entryway waiting for me. I closed my eyes and wondered if I was strong enough to hear what she had to say. The battle seemed to be raging so fierce today. I greeted her and she hugged me tight telling me that I looked so fat. “You must really be eating. You look good.” It has taken me a year, but this American woman can finally smile to being called fat and say “Thank you.” I held her hands and quietly asked, “Phyllis, what has happened?” She explained that her father had just died. When a relative dies it is expected that each family member give money for the burial, so she gave all she had towards the burial of her father. Phyllis found 5 children wandering around Kampala begging for food five years ago. These children had left Gulu, where the Lord’s Resistance Army has been terrorizing the people, to find peace in Kampala. When Phyllis found them, she had compassion on them and took them to live with her. She also cares for another widow who is dying from AIDS and a daughter who has now become pregnant with nowhere to go. “Everyone is looking to me to feed them and provide for them. I am trying to get my brick making business going, but it is not enough. I can’t pay school fees so the children sit at home and the widow with AIDS gets sicker by the minute when I can’t feed her consistently.” Phyllis then looked out into the distance put her hands in a prayerful position up to her face and shook her head. There seemed to be no words left to say. Again the battle for survival seemed to be raging in my ears. How do you even take it all in? Victory was nowhere to be found, so like any good medic, I gave her just enough to survive.

I went home that night exhausted and defeated. Lord, where is the victory? You say you are the husband to the widow and the father to the fatherless, so where are you? You say if we ask for bread, you won’t give us stones, so why are these ladies holding bags of rocks? You say you will feed the poor, so where is the food? Like Job of long ago, I hurled questions and accusations at God demanding to be heard, to be answered. I shook my little fists and stomped my feet. Finally after I had tantrumed for over an hour, I just lay quietly on my bed, still fuming but totally out of words. Only one question came whispered back to me, “Where were you?” Is this a joke, what do you mean, “where was I?” I was there. “Exactly,” he whispered.

The next morning I went to see Jane, a widow whose body is giving in to AIDS and TB. I had good news for Jane. Both of her children had been sponsored and would be sent back to school. They would also be put into other homes where they could be fed regularly and where their other needs for clothing, soap and other necessities would be met. Jane was too sick now to care for them herself. I had come to take the oldest, Katherine, to a Cornerstone home 15 minutes away. This home had other girls who had lost mothers to HIV and mentors who were trained to counsel her through the upcoming sadness. I thought I would see defeat and deep battle wounds, but when I looked around, I noticed the eerie silence of peace. When I looked at their faces, I saw joy--pure celebration and elation. Suddenly I realized I was standing in victory. I wouldn’t have recognized it, but here it was. When Katherine went in the other room to pack, Jane raised her bony hand and began to speak to the mentors of the home. “Please give my daughter courage. Let her know that someone in the world loves her and cares about her.” “That is our only job in the home. We love the girls and give them hope for the future,” they replied. Jane sighed deeply and smiled, then she said, “God can do anything. He has given me my heart’s desire.”

It was the strangest victory I had ever seen--a dying woman giving her children to someone else because she can no longer care for them. Elation that someone else will feed, clothe and love her children into adulthood. All the while knowing somewhere deep inside her that she will miss all those special moments to come. I came prepared for pain, heartache and deep sadness, but they were nowhere to be found. Somehow Jane had found the strength to give her children the life she wanted them to have and the result was peace and the deep joy of victory.

The battle for survival rages on and the fighting is fierce, but miraculously amidst all the pain and suffering victory still stands victorious. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself.

Update on the widows:

Well, it has been another rollercoaster ride this week. As you have just read, I spend much of my time in crisis management—feeding those that are hungry, helping them keep their small one room houses for another month and when I can find a sponsor sending their children back to school. It is sometimes emotionally exhausting, but the most rewarding thing I have ever done.

I saw two different plots of land this week. One of the plots is too far out of town and not near enough to a clinic for those who are sick. The other one is better located, but still a little far out of town. I am hoping to see two more plots this week. Buying land is such a HUGE deal, so please pray that God opens our eyes to the right one.

One ENOURMOUS answer to prayer also came last week. Carol, a widow in Minneapolis, also joined our team as lead fundraiser for this project. Lisa and I are so thrilled! We had prayed for someone with knowledge in this area to join us and God brought her right to us!

We will be fundraising to start phase two of this project. We would like to construct 30 homes and one office on the land we purchase. The widows most badly off can live there rent-free for as long as they need to. We are hoping this will give them a push to self-sufficiency. With no money going to rent, they will hopefully be able to better feed their families and put more money into their businesses. We would like to host seminars on business principles to help them as well once the land is set up. We are also hoping to market their beautiful beaded necklaces to stores in the States. If you want to know more about either of these projects, please contact Lisa Tschetter at lisatschetter@comcast.net She would be happy to help you!

Update on my life:

I feel like there is nothing left to say as so much of my time is spent with the ladies, but I am trying to take care of myself too. I make time every week to see friends and to rest. I have found it is good for my psyche.

This might give you a better picture of where I am at emotionally-- The other day I was sitting in the front of a taxi bus bumping in and out of every large pot hole when I noticed a “Boda” in front of us. (A Boda is a motorcycle you can hire to take you places.) The Boda had 4 chicken cages tied to the seat just behind the driver. Then there were about 15-20 other chickens tied by their legs to the outside of the cages. The chickens were all alive as I could hear them squawk loudly as they went in and out of each pothole. Now please know that I am not in any way shape or form for animal cruelty, but this whole scene just made me laugh. For twenty minutes I heard their squawks rise in decibel level every time they bumped in and out of those potholes. Suddenly, I laughed out loud and thought “wow, that is exactly how I feel.” It was like the chickens were flapping their wings screaming, “Oh no, here we go again. AHHHH! CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK” It was like watching a chicken roller coaster. It brought new meaning to the term Des Colores!

I guess I’ll end with some prayer requests: 1) pray for the ladies—feeding, housing, school fees 2) for the right piece of land 3) for the right contractor for the houses 4) for our fundraising efforts 4) for my relationships/friendships—they are my lifeline here 5) that I keep loving even when it just seems too damn hard 6) that I keep journeying with Jesus.

Much love,
Kari