“Come to me all who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest. For I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest for your souls.” -Jesus
I went to Northern Uganda this last week and rested in Gulu. It may seem odd to rest in a place that 3 years ago was a war zone, but now that peace has come it is quite lovely and quiet. I spent time with friends, napped in the middle of the afternoon, and watched some episodes of The Office on the computer. I went into town and ate good wholesome food. I even watched an exciting local soccer match. Each day I sat in the silence and listened to the birds sing as I prayed and read scripture. My body, my mind and my soul were renewed, energized and rested, but what about the widows- where do they find rest? Is rest only an option for the privileged?
It is odd that I went to Gulu for rest and the widows I love left Gulu to find rest. War drove them from their homes, took many of their husbands and left emotional scars that may never heal. They came south looking to find peace and prosperity. They found a place without war, but not the peace and security they were looking for. I haven’t ever heard one of the widows tell me that they felt rested. In fact, there is a weariness that seems to attach itself to each woman.
I went to see Lovincer when I returned from Gulu. She was taking her lunch break, eating some few pieces of cassava, when I found her. We embraced each other and she asked me about my trip. Was I rested? Did I have fun? I babbled on about how great it felt to relax in such a beautiful place. Then I asked how she was doing. “I’ve been working hard every day. I miss my children. Now the landlord is threatening to chase us from the place.” She still owes him about $80. I was glad to be able to tell her that funds had been found to cover the cost of her back house rent and for some school fees. But as I listened, I wondered when does this mother of 6 rest. When does her weary soul get a break?
Yesterday, I saw Agnes, an HIV positive widow who quite literally almost died a couple weeks ago. Her bony arms embraced me and she smiled from ear to ear. “Welcome back from Gulu! How was your trip? Are you now rested?” Again I told her how wonderful it is to relax and sit in the peace of the moment. She smiled and hugged me again rubbing my back. “I’m so glad.” She then pulled me away from the other ladies and said, “Kari, can you forgive me?” I was confused, what had she done to need my forgiveness? “I am sorry to ask you, but since I have been so sick I have no rent money for the landlord. He is going to chase me from my place tomorrow and I don’t know where to go. Can you help me?” She went on to tell me that she had spent several sleepless nights while I was gone praying and worrying—feeling helpless. I was her last resort. I gave her some money-enough to pay the landlord her back rent. She thanked me and I wondered, where is her rest? Even as HIV destroys her body, she has no time to relax. Can she not even die in peace?
At the widow’s meeting last night, I looked for Joyce. I knew that she had been quite sick with malaria. Before I left for my rest, she was in the hospital. Malaria is quite dangerous for her as she is HIV positive. When I didn’t see her, I asked how she was doing. She is still shaking with fever and having bad headaches they told me. I asked if I could go now to visit her. “Oh, she is not there. Even though she is sick, she went to sell in the market. How will her children eat if she does not work?” The other widows looked at me as if I had asked a ridiculous question. “How will they eat?” they asked me again. I just sat there stunned and shook my head. Where is her rest? Can she not even be sick? Can she not even take one day to heal her body?
Suddenly, I felt selfish in taking so many days to do nothing. I didn’t rest because I was sick, or because I had some problem to work through, or because I was chronically ill with a deadly disease; I rested because I felt like it. I realized in that moment that my ability to rest was a privilege that the widows hadn’t seen in years and may never see in a lifetime. I felt sick to my stomach. It wasn’t guilt. It wasn’t the feeling like I had done something wrong. It was a deep gut wrenching sadness. The very ones who deserve rest the most will probably never see it. It was the deep pain of injustice. That kind of pain sits in your belly and squeezes you from the inside out. Righteous anger wells up inside and you want to punch, kick and hurt something, but nothing you do relieves that kind of pain. Injustice can only be healed through justice-through righting the wrong, but how do I right this wrong? Is rest for them ever possible? Is it only a heavenly right for them?
Didn’t Jesus call all those who are weary and heavy laden to come to him so he can give them rest? Where is their rest? Tell me. I want to know. I want to lead them to it. How can I be allowed to rest when the sick and the dying have no rest?
Update on the widows:
We are seriously considering a piece of land about 30 minutes from Kampala. It is near a market, a good health center, schools and has access to electricity and water. Cornerstone is also looking for land for a housing project that will cater to former Cornerstone boys and girls who are now working. They are building a subdivision of sorts. If we can buy land together it will help us get more bang for our buck and give the widows some people to work for. I am hopeful that this will work! Keep praying!
We are still working on marketing the beads the widows are making so we can get a sustainable business going. We are also working on developing a website in order to provide more information on these ladies as well as the current projects we have going. As soon as we have it I will post it to the blog.
Thank you, thank you to those of you who have given generously to the Dorcas Widows Emergency fund. That money has helped many widows who are in dire need and kept at least two of them alive! You are a blessing!
My life:
I think I have said enough about my rest in Gulu. I do love that place and it really is beautiful! I also got to spend time with the Youth Corps kids (formerly abducted kids). It was so nice to be able to play games with them and to see them acting like children.
I am now back in Kampala and visiting widows. I really did miss them when I was gone and am looking forward to having lunch at one of the widow’s homes this Sunday. Spending time with them is so fun for me!
Thanks for praying for me. It really does make a huge difference to know that people are bringing me to the foot of the cross. I really am feeling empowered this week and excited about what God will show me next! As you can see from this blog, not all questions are yet answered. Some I will know later and some I think I will only know in heaven, but the journey is worth all the uncertainty.
Feel free to email, I can be reached at karimillermn@gmail.com
Friday, April 4, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
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
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
Thursday, March 6, 2008
A Blessing Given, A Blessing Received
“Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to him, ‘Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed,’ but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action is dead.” James 2: 15-17
Last Friday, I was busy finishing the last of my breakfast and going through a mental checklist of what I needed for the day when my phone began to ring. Suddenly, I was in a mad dash around the house looking for my often-misplaced cell phone. I reached quickly for the phone and answered it. “Karo, Karo. I need help. I need help.” I stopped immediately, listened intently and said, “This is Kari. Who am I speaking to?” The panicked voice on the other end of the phone belonged to Agnes, a widow suffering from HIV and the latest opportunistic infection. In the calmest voice I could muster I asked, “Agnes, Agnes, what is happening?” “I am sick, Karo. I am not well. I can’t walk. I haven’t eaten since you fed me on Monday. I don’t know what to do. Please, Karo, can you help me? Please can you help me?” Her voice was rising to a terrified sob and she just continued to repeat her cries for help. Again I tried to keep my voice even, comforting and calming. I interrupted her, “Agnes, Agnes, I will help you. I will get money to you and I will send someone to go to the market to get food for you. I will help you. I will help you.” After getting some vague details about where she was staying, I set out to feed Agnes.
Yet somewhere deep inside me, I was scared to death, quite literally that this was the end for her. I have seen what AIDS can do. It is a monster of a disease. Its only aim is to destroy the one who carries it. It shows no mercy and gains strength as the one fighting it weakens. It robs you of your own dignity and steals your very ability to care for yourself. Its craving for death is insatiable. It is not easily intimidated and will stand its ground against even the fiercest attack. This monster is dangerous and will always be fatal. So, it is always with great respect for this horrific disease that I go armed with the only thing that can destroy it. This is a fight for God himself. Only he can battle this beast and win. So, I hold the hand of my father, the mighty warrior, and set out for battle.
I was quite far from Agnes when the call reached me and I knew that she needed help quickly, so I called Lisa, a young 20 something American girl, who had come to Africa to see what God was doing here. I had known her only a few days, but she was available and in the right area. I wanted to go myself, but my travel time would delay the help for Agnes, so I gave the blessing to someone else. This was hard, as I love Agnes and I wanted to see her for myself. I wanted to hold her. I have come to crave these kinds of adventures with God. The kind where God takes you into pain, into darkness and then suddenly shows his magnificent light. It is both humbling and empowering to love another person in the presence of Jesus himself. In those moments I long to become less, so he can become more. Even so God was going to send this young girl in my place.
I directed Lisa as best as I could by phone to Nakawa where the widow Rebecca lived. Rebecca would then help Lisa find the room where Agnes was waiting. Lisa wandered through the slums of Nakawa for some time asking each person if they knew the widow Rebecca. Finally, after about 20 minutes, an older man approached her and asked if she was looking for the widows. He then took her to see Widow Joyce. Joyce was overjoyed to see Lisa and invited her in for tea. As they drank tea, Lisa explained about Agnes’ frantic call. Joyce then stood, took Lisa by the hand and marched her straight to Widow Rebecca’s home.
Widow Rebecca had just finished washing her clothes and getting ready for the day. After hearing about Agnes’ frantic call for help, they set out to find her. Rebecca is terrified of riding motorcycles, so instead of taking a boda to Agnes’ home, they walked and walked and walked. Agnes lives on the top of a high hill just outside of Kampala. As they walked the long steep dusty road in the heat of the day, Rebecca told Lisa that she was unsure which path led to Agnes’ home. Lisa was close to frustration. It had taken two hours now to get to this place and now they had no idea how to find her.
In total desperation, they began to ask the men working in the rock quarry if they knew a widow named Agnes who had one daughter. Each person seemed to know a different Agnes, but not one knew the one they were looking for. Lisa was getting worried that they might never find her. Then a gentlemen driving one of the rock trucks overheard them speaking and told them that he was sure he knew where Agnes stayed. He took them down a path that lead to a small dilapidated home. As they approached the home, Agnes slowly stumbled forward and then collapsed into the dust. Lisa, Rebecca and the driver rushed to her side. Her skeletal frame seemed to have to no muscle to hold it up.
The driver picked her up in one swift motion and brought her into the house. Lisa came into the small house and watched as he put her sick frail body down on the mat. She began to thank Lisa over and over for coming to her rescue. Then she reached her shaky hand out and with great effort picked up a bar of soap. Agnes commented that Lisa’s feet were dirty. Then she asked for a basin of water and began to wash Lisa’s feet and shoes. Lisa tried over and over again to tell her to rest and not to bother with her feet, but Agnes remained determined to do what she could to love Lisa in the same way she felt loved by her. Lisa was overwhelmed by her act of love and in awe of how God can show up in the strangest places.
Rebecca took the money, went to the market and then spent the rest of the day cooking for Agnes. Rebecca helped her to the toilet, helped her eat and helped her get medicine for her aches and pains. Rebecca gave up working in the market. She gave up earning money for her own family in order to help her fellow widow. She has seen first hand what AIDS can do, so she stayed and prayed with this sick frail woman hoping that God would show up in the darkness.
Over the weekend, I had prayed for Agnes and sent messages of hope and encouragement to her. Then on Sunday night I received another call. It was Agnes, only this time her voice was calm. She simply said, “Thank you Karo. Thank you for loving me.”
Update on the widows:
I wanted so badly to upload a picture of Agnes, but the computer just wouldn't cooperate. Oh well! I have some good God sized news. Jane is still alive and God has brought another widow from another land to pay the money for Jane’s children to go to school. Her oldest daughter will be staying in a Cornerstone home and returning to school next quarter. Her son will be attending a day school near her home. This news is so recent I haven’t yet been able to break the news to Jane. I know she will be overjoyed! One of Rosemary’s daughters will be also going to a Cornerstone home and then back to school next quarter. Rosemary was overjoyed and immediately started praising Jesus. It was beautiful to watch. She still has sores all over her tongue from the diabetes and is in constant pain, but God is still standing beside her and so am I.
We are in the middle of looking at two pieces of land. I am hopeful that we will get the final okay to go survey the land this week. Keep praying!! Otherwise, I love the widows from one crisis to another! A good friend emailed and suggested starting an emergency fund for food, medicine and school fees. If you are interested in donating to something like this please contact Lisa Tschetter at lisatschetter@comcast.net Let’s see what God might do!!
My life:
I have had a strange week. I went from the depths to the heights and it has been an unsettling journey. On Sunday, I left the widows for a large house outside on Kampala, so that I could teach at the International School. It is an elite place where tuition is $15,000 a year. I am with the wealthiest families in a country where people are dying of hunger. Every part of me wants to leave this place, but I will keep my commitment. I will be back to Simon’s on Friday and I can’t wait!
Living in God’s great presence,
Kari
Last Friday, I was busy finishing the last of my breakfast and going through a mental checklist of what I needed for the day when my phone began to ring. Suddenly, I was in a mad dash around the house looking for my often-misplaced cell phone. I reached quickly for the phone and answered it. “Karo, Karo. I need help. I need help.” I stopped immediately, listened intently and said, “This is Kari. Who am I speaking to?” The panicked voice on the other end of the phone belonged to Agnes, a widow suffering from HIV and the latest opportunistic infection. In the calmest voice I could muster I asked, “Agnes, Agnes, what is happening?” “I am sick, Karo. I am not well. I can’t walk. I haven’t eaten since you fed me on Monday. I don’t know what to do. Please, Karo, can you help me? Please can you help me?” Her voice was rising to a terrified sob and she just continued to repeat her cries for help. Again I tried to keep my voice even, comforting and calming. I interrupted her, “Agnes, Agnes, I will help you. I will get money to you and I will send someone to go to the market to get food for you. I will help you. I will help you.” After getting some vague details about where she was staying, I set out to feed Agnes.
Yet somewhere deep inside me, I was scared to death, quite literally that this was the end for her. I have seen what AIDS can do. It is a monster of a disease. Its only aim is to destroy the one who carries it. It shows no mercy and gains strength as the one fighting it weakens. It robs you of your own dignity and steals your very ability to care for yourself. Its craving for death is insatiable. It is not easily intimidated and will stand its ground against even the fiercest attack. This monster is dangerous and will always be fatal. So, it is always with great respect for this horrific disease that I go armed with the only thing that can destroy it. This is a fight for God himself. Only he can battle this beast and win. So, I hold the hand of my father, the mighty warrior, and set out for battle.
I was quite far from Agnes when the call reached me and I knew that she needed help quickly, so I called Lisa, a young 20 something American girl, who had come to Africa to see what God was doing here. I had known her only a few days, but she was available and in the right area. I wanted to go myself, but my travel time would delay the help for Agnes, so I gave the blessing to someone else. This was hard, as I love Agnes and I wanted to see her for myself. I wanted to hold her. I have come to crave these kinds of adventures with God. The kind where God takes you into pain, into darkness and then suddenly shows his magnificent light. It is both humbling and empowering to love another person in the presence of Jesus himself. In those moments I long to become less, so he can become more. Even so God was going to send this young girl in my place.
I directed Lisa as best as I could by phone to Nakawa where the widow Rebecca lived. Rebecca would then help Lisa find the room where Agnes was waiting. Lisa wandered through the slums of Nakawa for some time asking each person if they knew the widow Rebecca. Finally, after about 20 minutes, an older man approached her and asked if she was looking for the widows. He then took her to see Widow Joyce. Joyce was overjoyed to see Lisa and invited her in for tea. As they drank tea, Lisa explained about Agnes’ frantic call. Joyce then stood, took Lisa by the hand and marched her straight to Widow Rebecca’s home.
Widow Rebecca had just finished washing her clothes and getting ready for the day. After hearing about Agnes’ frantic call for help, they set out to find her. Rebecca is terrified of riding motorcycles, so instead of taking a boda to Agnes’ home, they walked and walked and walked. Agnes lives on the top of a high hill just outside of Kampala. As they walked the long steep dusty road in the heat of the day, Rebecca told Lisa that she was unsure which path led to Agnes’ home. Lisa was close to frustration. It had taken two hours now to get to this place and now they had no idea how to find her.
In total desperation, they began to ask the men working in the rock quarry if they knew a widow named Agnes who had one daughter. Each person seemed to know a different Agnes, but not one knew the one they were looking for. Lisa was getting worried that they might never find her. Then a gentlemen driving one of the rock trucks overheard them speaking and told them that he was sure he knew where Agnes stayed. He took them down a path that lead to a small dilapidated home. As they approached the home, Agnes slowly stumbled forward and then collapsed into the dust. Lisa, Rebecca and the driver rushed to her side. Her skeletal frame seemed to have to no muscle to hold it up.
The driver picked her up in one swift motion and brought her into the house. Lisa came into the small house and watched as he put her sick frail body down on the mat. She began to thank Lisa over and over for coming to her rescue. Then she reached her shaky hand out and with great effort picked up a bar of soap. Agnes commented that Lisa’s feet were dirty. Then she asked for a basin of water and began to wash Lisa’s feet and shoes. Lisa tried over and over again to tell her to rest and not to bother with her feet, but Agnes remained determined to do what she could to love Lisa in the same way she felt loved by her. Lisa was overwhelmed by her act of love and in awe of how God can show up in the strangest places.
Rebecca took the money, went to the market and then spent the rest of the day cooking for Agnes. Rebecca helped her to the toilet, helped her eat and helped her get medicine for her aches and pains. Rebecca gave up working in the market. She gave up earning money for her own family in order to help her fellow widow. She has seen first hand what AIDS can do, so she stayed and prayed with this sick frail woman hoping that God would show up in the darkness.
Over the weekend, I had prayed for Agnes and sent messages of hope and encouragement to her. Then on Sunday night I received another call. It was Agnes, only this time her voice was calm. She simply said, “Thank you Karo. Thank you for loving me.”
Update on the widows:
I wanted so badly to upload a picture of Agnes, but the computer just wouldn't cooperate. Oh well! I have some good God sized news. Jane is still alive and God has brought another widow from another land to pay the money for Jane’s children to go to school. Her oldest daughter will be staying in a Cornerstone home and returning to school next quarter. Her son will be attending a day school near her home. This news is so recent I haven’t yet been able to break the news to Jane. I know she will be overjoyed! One of Rosemary’s daughters will be also going to a Cornerstone home and then back to school next quarter. Rosemary was overjoyed and immediately started praising Jesus. It was beautiful to watch. She still has sores all over her tongue from the diabetes and is in constant pain, but God is still standing beside her and so am I.
We are in the middle of looking at two pieces of land. I am hopeful that we will get the final okay to go survey the land this week. Keep praying!! Otherwise, I love the widows from one crisis to another! A good friend emailed and suggested starting an emergency fund for food, medicine and school fees. If you are interested in donating to something like this please contact Lisa Tschetter at lisatschetter@comcast.net Let’s see what God might do!!
My life:
I have had a strange week. I went from the depths to the heights and it has been an unsettling journey. On Sunday, I left the widows for a large house outside on Kampala, so that I could teach at the International School. It is an elite place where tuition is $15,000 a year. I am with the wealthiest families in a country where people are dying of hunger. Every part of me wants to leave this place, but I will keep my commitment. I will be back to Simon’s on Friday and I can’t wait!
Living in God’s great presence,
Kari
Friday, February 22, 2008
Desperate Women, Desperate Times
The life of a widow is an exercise in patience, persistence and deep disappointment, especially in Uganda. First comes the grieving. The deep, deep sadness in losing the one you love, the one you committed your life to, the one you had your children with. The memory of that exceedingly happy day when you got married now only serves to deepen the sorrow of your loss. It seems as if a part of your soul has died with him. If only for the children, you keep on surviving, you keep on living. After the intensity of the grief lessens, you realize that it is up to you to feed them, to clothe them, provide school fees for them and to love them into maturity. You go to the market every day and sell what ever you can, but it is never enough. You heart breaks every time you have to tell your children that there will not be anything to eat tonight. Then you go into your room and cry your self to sleep. How long can you survive like this? The weight of all of it feels as though it might crush you completely. Your only hope is that God is real and that he hears your cries for help.
Now back on Ugandan soil, I longed to see the widows. I wasn’t sure what I would find and I was even more unsure of what I would hear, but I knew I had to see them. Love was drawing me back into a place I knew would be painful, but even I had no idea of what I was about to hear.
In the last 6 months the property where their small homes are located has been sold to a developer. So, one by one they are being forced from their homes. Now, only the sick remain as they are too weak to move.
As the motorcycle pulled up to the church where the widows were waiting, my heart leaped inside of me. Here were my friends--smiling and laughing and coming towards me to embrace me. I remembered each of them by name and held them close. Love seemed to fill up the space between us. As I scanned the widows seated outside the church, I saw Jane, thin and frail, but alive. She was nothing more than skin and bones, but when I walked over to her she smiled weakly and let me hold her. I kept saying, “I am so glad you’re still here. I prayed for you so many times hoping that I would see you again.” She smiled back and told me how happy she was to see me again, yet I could see the pain behind her eyes. She was not well.
Then I saw Rosemary. She came slowly painfully toward me. She now had diabetes and her legs ached terribly every time she moved, but she told me that the pain was worth it to see me again. I held her and then helped her find a place to sit down. After some encouraging words between us, she held my hand and told me that she had some sad news. Bracing myself, I squeezed her hand and looked into her face. “Remember the woman with HIV who had the fungus in her vagina, the one who you helped get the medicine.”
Of course I remembered her. Rosemary had taken me to her home only months before pleading with me to help her. This lady had no money to buy the medicine to treat this raging infection. When I got there the lady lifted her dress to show me the fungus that was eating her thighs and her insides. It was grotesque and as a woman I could not even imagine that kind of pain. I made sure she was treated immediately. It wasn’t long before she was walking and sitting upright at our widow’s meetings. I remember seeing her smile. I remember her holding me and thanking God that she was no longer in pain.
Rosemary explained that she had told the woman that I was coming back and the woman was elated. She wanted to show me how healthy she had become. Then 3 weeks ago, she contracted meningitis and died. As Rosemary told me about her death, I started to tremble. My eyes filled with tears and I closed my mouth tight to keep the sobs from coming out. I just shook my head and cried. Then Rosemary told me of another widow who had died of AIDS. I remembered that lady too. I remembered putting my face on her feverish one and praying for her health to return. My soul felt so grieved. I was at a loss for words.
Right at that moment, Joyce called me over to where she and several other widows were seated around Jane. Still processing the news of my friends’ deaths, I sat down in this circle of ladies. They were already engaged in intense conversation in their own language. After a couple minutes, the widows asked Jane to tell me what had happened to her. Jane’s bony arms were resting on her bony thighs. She lifted her head slightly to meet my gaze. As she began to speak, she mentioned her children then broke down into sobs. Joyce comforted her, and then proceeded to speak for her.
Jane has HIV and TB. She has had TB for over a year now and has gone through treatment twice. I remembered providing the money for her first round of treatment 6 months ago. I was so fearful then that she wouldn’t survive the treatment, but to God’s great credit she is still alive. Jane is unable to work due to the severity of her sickness, so she relies totally on her fellow widows to share their small amounts of food with her and her children. Two days ago, Joyce found Jane collapsed on the floor of her home. She rushed to her side to help her. She was still breathing, but very weak. Joyce spent hours at her home watching over her, giving her tea and talking to her when she was conscious.
She had collapsed because she had not eaten for couple of days, instead wanting her children to eat the small amount of food given to them by her fellow widows. She had also been emotionally overwrought when she found out that her children’s school fees would not be paid by a local charity. She had applied to this charity on behalf of her children and had not received the help. Now she was devastated, knowing that her children now had no hope of attending school, no hope of a future. She is dying and is desperate for her children to be able to go to school.
I sighed deeply and tried to intake the great disappointment that was before us. Immediately the other widows and I began to brainstorm ways to get Jane’s kids to school. We came up with several options and will spend the better part of next week trying to get her children to school and into a home for orphans. All of it was suffocating. Jane will not live. There will be a day when I hear of her death and I go to her burial. Her children will be orphans. I sat there for some time trying to seem okay, but I wasn’t. Deep sorrow had come and rested itself inside my heart.
After leaving Jane’s home, I walked with Rosemary up to the market in order to catch a bus. It was pitch dark by now, yet the market was teeming with people, motorbikes and commerce. It is a loud place, so as we walked and talked we leaned close to each other. I let Rosemary hold onto me and use me as a crutch, as I knew her legs were throbbing by now. I asked her how she was doing. She was quiet for a moment seeming to look for just the right English words to describe her own hardships. “It is hard,” she said. Several weeks ago the diabetes had gotten so bad that she had lost all use of her legs and had become bedridden. She then called in her medical team…they consisted of a pastor and several prayer warriors. They prayed for her and then several days later she was walking again, quite painfully, but she was walking. “God can do amazing things,” she said. Then she was quiet again. We walked some more.
After several minutes, she began to speak again this time with a quiver in her voice. “I have made so many beaded necklaces hoping to create a business to support myself and my children, but there is no market. I can’t sell enough of them.” She was quiet again and this time not moving. In the darkness, the light of a motorbike caught her face and I saw tears streaming down her face. I put both my arms around her and held her very close. “You are not alone,” I said. She then cried as she told me that her youngest boy now has ulcers because she has not been able to feed him regularly. He kept her up all night last night crying and asking her, “Mommy, why don’t you feed me?” She then began to sob. “What can I do?’ she asked me, “What can I do?” Again I sighed a deep sigh and let the weight of her pain rest on me too. I gave her some money so she could get the rest of the way home without walking and so she could feed her son and other orphans she cares for, but I know it is a temporary fix. It is like trying to stop a 6 foot hole in a dam with a toothpick.
So I will spend the better part of the next week looking for a way to sell her beads or to get her signed up with a feeding program for widows. I will also get down on my knees and beg for God to come rescue these women, but I know his answer. He will say, “I am rescuing them, I sent you.” What is God thinking? How could he do such a foolish thing? Does he know what a coward I am? Does he know my aversion to pain? Does he know that I often seek my own needs before I seek the needs of others? Does he know how painful it is to see death, disease, hunger and injustice on a minute by minute basis? Does he know that I often fail? Does he know that I often don’t have any idea how to really help? How could he risk the lives of these dear people with someone as flawed as me?
Then somewhere deep in the recesses of my spirit, I hear God whisper, “My darling, that is how everyone in love feels. You wonder if you really can love someone else. You wonder if you really can give yourself to another person. You wonder if you really can put another’s needs ahead of your own. But don’t be afraid, I created love and I created you. Keep standing in the pain with them. Meet what physical needs you can with what I give you. Listen to them, pray with them and most of all love them. My darling, I created you to be a lover….don’t be afraid for I will love them through you.”
Update on the widows:
If you read my blog, then you know that things are not good. They are really struggling to feed themselves and their children. They are struggling to pay school fees. They are desperate for a place to live. On that front, two Cornerstone staff, Simon & Alfred, are aggressively looking for land. We want to purchase something ASAP. Please keep praying that happens. If you have any suggestions for helping with feeding, schooling or how to build the houses, I am very, very open to hear them. I am praying God brings someone forward to partner with me.
Update on my life:
I am now living at Simon Kabi’s house which is a familiar place for me. Thank you so much to the Kabi’s for graciously opening their home to me! In so many ways I feel I am home. It is a fabulous feeling. It is as if I were lost and now have found myself wandering around Uganda. It is a glorious reunion!
I am subbing sporadically for the International School. I will be teaching second grade for a week in March; which will be fun as there are only 10 students in the class. It will be a good way for me to earn some extra money!
Much love,
Kari
Now back on Ugandan soil, I longed to see the widows. I wasn’t sure what I would find and I was even more unsure of what I would hear, but I knew I had to see them. Love was drawing me back into a place I knew would be painful, but even I had no idea of what I was about to hear.
In the last 6 months the property where their small homes are located has been sold to a developer. So, one by one they are being forced from their homes. Now, only the sick remain as they are too weak to move.
As the motorcycle pulled up to the church where the widows were waiting, my heart leaped inside of me. Here were my friends--smiling and laughing and coming towards me to embrace me. I remembered each of them by name and held them close. Love seemed to fill up the space between us. As I scanned the widows seated outside the church, I saw Jane, thin and frail, but alive. She was nothing more than skin and bones, but when I walked over to her she smiled weakly and let me hold her. I kept saying, “I am so glad you’re still here. I prayed for you so many times hoping that I would see you again.” She smiled back and told me how happy she was to see me again, yet I could see the pain behind her eyes. She was not well.
Then I saw Rosemary. She came slowly painfully toward me. She now had diabetes and her legs ached terribly every time she moved, but she told me that the pain was worth it to see me again. I held her and then helped her find a place to sit down. After some encouraging words between us, she held my hand and told me that she had some sad news. Bracing myself, I squeezed her hand and looked into her face. “Remember the woman with HIV who had the fungus in her vagina, the one who you helped get the medicine.”
Of course I remembered her. Rosemary had taken me to her home only months before pleading with me to help her. This lady had no money to buy the medicine to treat this raging infection. When I got there the lady lifted her dress to show me the fungus that was eating her thighs and her insides. It was grotesque and as a woman I could not even imagine that kind of pain. I made sure she was treated immediately. It wasn’t long before she was walking and sitting upright at our widow’s meetings. I remember seeing her smile. I remember her holding me and thanking God that she was no longer in pain.
Rosemary explained that she had told the woman that I was coming back and the woman was elated. She wanted to show me how healthy she had become. Then 3 weeks ago, she contracted meningitis and died. As Rosemary told me about her death, I started to tremble. My eyes filled with tears and I closed my mouth tight to keep the sobs from coming out. I just shook my head and cried. Then Rosemary told me of another widow who had died of AIDS. I remembered that lady too. I remembered putting my face on her feverish one and praying for her health to return. My soul felt so grieved. I was at a loss for words.
Right at that moment, Joyce called me over to where she and several other widows were seated around Jane. Still processing the news of my friends’ deaths, I sat down in this circle of ladies. They were already engaged in intense conversation in their own language. After a couple minutes, the widows asked Jane to tell me what had happened to her. Jane’s bony arms were resting on her bony thighs. She lifted her head slightly to meet my gaze. As she began to speak, she mentioned her children then broke down into sobs. Joyce comforted her, and then proceeded to speak for her.
Jane has HIV and TB. She has had TB for over a year now and has gone through treatment twice. I remembered providing the money for her first round of treatment 6 months ago. I was so fearful then that she wouldn’t survive the treatment, but to God’s great credit she is still alive. Jane is unable to work due to the severity of her sickness, so she relies totally on her fellow widows to share their small amounts of food with her and her children. Two days ago, Joyce found Jane collapsed on the floor of her home. She rushed to her side to help her. She was still breathing, but very weak. Joyce spent hours at her home watching over her, giving her tea and talking to her when she was conscious.
She had collapsed because she had not eaten for couple of days, instead wanting her children to eat the small amount of food given to them by her fellow widows. She had also been emotionally overwrought when she found out that her children’s school fees would not be paid by a local charity. She had applied to this charity on behalf of her children and had not received the help. Now she was devastated, knowing that her children now had no hope of attending school, no hope of a future. She is dying and is desperate for her children to be able to go to school.
I sighed deeply and tried to intake the great disappointment that was before us. Immediately the other widows and I began to brainstorm ways to get Jane’s kids to school. We came up with several options and will spend the better part of next week trying to get her children to school and into a home for orphans. All of it was suffocating. Jane will not live. There will be a day when I hear of her death and I go to her burial. Her children will be orphans. I sat there for some time trying to seem okay, but I wasn’t. Deep sorrow had come and rested itself inside my heart.
After leaving Jane’s home, I walked with Rosemary up to the market in order to catch a bus. It was pitch dark by now, yet the market was teeming with people, motorbikes and commerce. It is a loud place, so as we walked and talked we leaned close to each other. I let Rosemary hold onto me and use me as a crutch, as I knew her legs were throbbing by now. I asked her how she was doing. She was quiet for a moment seeming to look for just the right English words to describe her own hardships. “It is hard,” she said. Several weeks ago the diabetes had gotten so bad that she had lost all use of her legs and had become bedridden. She then called in her medical team…they consisted of a pastor and several prayer warriors. They prayed for her and then several days later she was walking again, quite painfully, but she was walking. “God can do amazing things,” she said. Then she was quiet again. We walked some more.
After several minutes, she began to speak again this time with a quiver in her voice. “I have made so many beaded necklaces hoping to create a business to support myself and my children, but there is no market. I can’t sell enough of them.” She was quiet again and this time not moving. In the darkness, the light of a motorbike caught her face and I saw tears streaming down her face. I put both my arms around her and held her very close. “You are not alone,” I said. She then cried as she told me that her youngest boy now has ulcers because she has not been able to feed him regularly. He kept her up all night last night crying and asking her, “Mommy, why don’t you feed me?” She then began to sob. “What can I do?’ she asked me, “What can I do?” Again I sighed a deep sigh and let the weight of her pain rest on me too. I gave her some money so she could get the rest of the way home without walking and so she could feed her son and other orphans she cares for, but I know it is a temporary fix. It is like trying to stop a 6 foot hole in a dam with a toothpick.
So I will spend the better part of the next week looking for a way to sell her beads or to get her signed up with a feeding program for widows. I will also get down on my knees and beg for God to come rescue these women, but I know his answer. He will say, “I am rescuing them, I sent you.” What is God thinking? How could he do such a foolish thing? Does he know what a coward I am? Does he know my aversion to pain? Does he know that I often seek my own needs before I seek the needs of others? Does he know how painful it is to see death, disease, hunger and injustice on a minute by minute basis? Does he know that I often fail? Does he know that I often don’t have any idea how to really help? How could he risk the lives of these dear people with someone as flawed as me?
Then somewhere deep in the recesses of my spirit, I hear God whisper, “My darling, that is how everyone in love feels. You wonder if you really can love someone else. You wonder if you really can give yourself to another person. You wonder if you really can put another’s needs ahead of your own. But don’t be afraid, I created love and I created you. Keep standing in the pain with them. Meet what physical needs you can with what I give you. Listen to them, pray with them and most of all love them. My darling, I created you to be a lover….don’t be afraid for I will love them through you.”
Update on the widows:
If you read my blog, then you know that things are not good. They are really struggling to feed themselves and their children. They are struggling to pay school fees. They are desperate for a place to live. On that front, two Cornerstone staff, Simon & Alfred, are aggressively looking for land. We want to purchase something ASAP. Please keep praying that happens. If you have any suggestions for helping with feeding, schooling or how to build the houses, I am very, very open to hear them. I am praying God brings someone forward to partner with me.
Update on my life:
I am now living at Simon Kabi’s house which is a familiar place for me. Thank you so much to the Kabi’s for graciously opening their home to me! In so many ways I feel I am home. It is a fabulous feeling. It is as if I were lost and now have found myself wandering around Uganda. It is a glorious reunion!
I am subbing sporadically for the International School. I will be teaching second grade for a week in March; which will be fun as there are only 10 students in the class. It will be a good way for me to earn some extra money!
Much love,
Kari
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
What do I know about love?
I Saw What I Saw
Performed by Sara Groves
I saw what I saw and I can’t forget it
I heard what I heard and I can’t go back
I know what I know and I can’t deny it
Something along the road cut me to the soul
Your pain has changed me
Your dream inspires
Your face a memory
Your hope a fire
Your courage asks me what I am afraid of and what I know of love
We’ve done what we’ve done and we can’t erase it
We are what we are and it is more than enough
We have what we have but it is no substitution
Something along the road cut me to the soul
Your pain has changed me
Your dream inspires
Your face a memory
Your hope a fire
Your courage asks me what I am made of and what I know of love
I say what I say with no hesitation
I have what I have but I’m giving it up
I do what I do with deep conviction
Something along the road cut me to the soul
Your pain has changed me
Your dreams inspire
Your face a memory
Your hope a fire
Your courage asks me what I am afraid of …
Your courage asks me what I am made of…
Your courage asks me what I am afraid of and what I know of love and what I know of God.
Album: Tell Me What You Know
*Hear it on itunes!
I love this song by Sara Groves. When I first stumbled across it on itunes, a huge rush of emotion came over me. Have you had that experience? A song suddenly plays and somehow it puts words to a place that before seemed to be indescribable. It was as if the song was written just for you…in that moment….to put words to something you only felt, but could never express. At that moment something comes alive in your spirit and you are drawn inward. You relive moments long gone, you remember people you love, sometimes the pain in your life comes to the surface, still other times joy filled moments spread an uncontrollable smile across your face. Everything else fades away and you are lost somewhere inside yourself.
I don’t know about you but as I travel inward, I often meet God there. He seems to speak through the music or at least to use it as a medium to invite me to a quiet place inside my own mind and emotion. Once I get there it usually isn’t so much of a conversation as a long embrace of intimacy. Whatever the private moment I am experiencing, there he is beside me… his hand in mine. Then as I look over he usually only has a few words to say. They are powerful yet gentle. Those few words then linger in my head for days and inevitably some part of me is never the same.
The lyrics of this beautiful song brought a tidal wave of powerful memories and a torrent of intense emotion. Suddenly, I was reliving the first time I saw Jane, a bone thin Ugandan widow suffering from AIDS and TB. Her skin was draped on her frail body and she coughed in painful spasms. She was standing there in front of me weeping, her shoulders hunched over, her eyes full of indescribable pain. She couldn’t feed herself or her children. The memory still reduces me to sobs. It still feels as intense as the day it happened. Then I saw another HIV positive widow named Joyce. Years earlier she watched in horror as her parents, her brothers and sisters and her husband were slaughtered by rebel soldiers wielding sharp machetes. Her and her daughter were the only survivors. She somehow managed to dig their graves bury them herself. Then she took her siblings’ children with her to Kampala…all 15 of them. Last year, her only biological daughter was killed in a car accident. The injustice of it all brings an intense white-hot anger. Then one after the other I remembered all 120 of them each with a unique story to tell. I choked back sobs and refused to shake free of the memory. As hard as it was, I sat in it…all of it. As the memories of these widows washed over me, I looked over and the only thing I could say to Jesus was ‘I love them.” He gently smiled and said, “Do you know what love is?”
Do I know what love is? This questioned lingered in my mind for days. There is no doubt I feel deep empathy and compassion for these dear widows. There is no doubt that some of them have become my friends. There is no doubt that I have given my resources to meet their physical needs. There is no doubt that I have tried to share their courage, hopes and dreams with anyone who will listen. But, does that answer the question? Is that love or is it social action? Is it love or is it a stroke to my own ego? Is it love or does it fill a deeper desire of mine to help the unfortunate? Suddenly I felt nervous and scared. Why did Jesus always have to look so deeply into my motives? Why was the authenticity of my love always in question? Why was I being so defensive?
About a year ago, I asked the God to teach me to love….really love--like he does. Now a year later, it seemed as if God was going to peel the onion a little deeper. As it turns out, you never really master the art of loving. It is a lifelong process…at least for me. So, I lowered by defenses, turned back into the memories and asked myself that question that seemed to probe into a tender place. Do I really love them?
I have been communicating with the widows since I have returned to the US and life for them has not improved. Although, we raised $16,000 in order to purchase a piece of land for them, no land has yet become available. It has been a much more difficult task then any of us anticipated to purchase a good sized piece of land. I just spoke with them the other day only to find out that they have to be out of their current houses by January 31st. Time is running out. They are scared and clinging to the slim hope of finding a piece of land in the next week. As you can imagine, conversations with them are becoming more frantic and I have found myself wanting to avoid the phone call. Wondering if it would be easier to distance myself from the weight of it all.
Some Christians have told me that I was foolish to try to help them in the first place. In their opinion it is better left to the “professionals” in big ministries and big NGO’s. Some have tried to comfort me, saying, “You tried your best. You did more than most people. God will bring someone else forward.” Still others try to spiritualize it all by saying that if God doesn’t find the women land, he just isn’t “in the project.” So, here I am wading deep in the memories of women I have come to know and love while voices of doubt and rationalization are begging me to escape the stench of failure. In the midst of all that, a beautiful voice sings a song and God asks the question, “Do you know what love is?”
Finally I dare to say, Yes, I know deep down despite all my selfishness that I really do love them. As much as my plan of rescue may have failed, I do love them. It isn’t just emotion, it’s commitment. So what do you do when you love someone in deep distress? Do you back off slightly hoping God brings someone else to help? That would be the easy way out. Or do you throw up your hands and say “I tried”? After all, it is a total failure, right? God doesn’t allow things to fail, does he? Then a small whisp of a memory comes floating by….I see Joseph rotting in prison in Egypt for years. Then I see the Jews wandering the desert for 40 years. Neither one of those plans went “as planned” yet God was not asleep at the switch. It was as if failure was as much a part of his plan as success was. He didn’t love them any less even though they saw more failure then most. Through it all God never left them. He loved them.
Suddenly, it occurred to me that love means standing in the darkness with them. It means letting this looming failure wash over me too. It means clinging to the promises of God in the same frantic way they are. It means standing beside them no matter how difficult it gets. It means putting their needs ahead of my own. It means cozying up to sacrifice. It means saying even when it is easier to leave, I will stay put.
I am scared though. I know my own propensity to opt for the easy way out. I know my own desire for a pain free existence. I want to live a life of happiness, wealth and priviledge…nothing but butterflies, ice cream cones and beautiful sunsets. Yet, I have fallen in love with women whose lives reek with pain, lonliness and despair. It is so much easier to flee…to go back to my comfortable life, but now that I know what I know and have heard what I’ve heard, I just can’t go back.
One thing I know about God is that he is ever present in times of trouble and can be found in the most painful places. So, to love is to stay in the place where Jesus is; therefore, I will love the widows not just in emotion, but in commitment. I will stay with them in the pain and the uncertainty and, yes, even in the failure.
After days of wrestling with this question of love, I look over at Jesus and he smiles nods his head and says, “Your love story has now begun…”
Performed by Sara Groves
I saw what I saw and I can’t forget it
I heard what I heard and I can’t go back
I know what I know and I can’t deny it
Something along the road cut me to the soul
Your pain has changed me
Your dream inspires
Your face a memory
Your hope a fire
Your courage asks me what I am afraid of and what I know of love
We’ve done what we’ve done and we can’t erase it
We are what we are and it is more than enough
We have what we have but it is no substitution
Something along the road cut me to the soul
Your pain has changed me
Your dream inspires
Your face a memory
Your hope a fire
Your courage asks me what I am made of and what I know of love
I say what I say with no hesitation
I have what I have but I’m giving it up
I do what I do with deep conviction
Something along the road cut me to the soul
Your pain has changed me
Your dreams inspire
Your face a memory
Your hope a fire
Your courage asks me what I am afraid of …
Your courage asks me what I am made of…
Your courage asks me what I am afraid of and what I know of love and what I know of God.
Album: Tell Me What You Know
*Hear it on itunes!
I love this song by Sara Groves. When I first stumbled across it on itunes, a huge rush of emotion came over me. Have you had that experience? A song suddenly plays and somehow it puts words to a place that before seemed to be indescribable. It was as if the song was written just for you…in that moment….to put words to something you only felt, but could never express. At that moment something comes alive in your spirit and you are drawn inward. You relive moments long gone, you remember people you love, sometimes the pain in your life comes to the surface, still other times joy filled moments spread an uncontrollable smile across your face. Everything else fades away and you are lost somewhere inside yourself.
I don’t know about you but as I travel inward, I often meet God there. He seems to speak through the music or at least to use it as a medium to invite me to a quiet place inside my own mind and emotion. Once I get there it usually isn’t so much of a conversation as a long embrace of intimacy. Whatever the private moment I am experiencing, there he is beside me… his hand in mine. Then as I look over he usually only has a few words to say. They are powerful yet gentle. Those few words then linger in my head for days and inevitably some part of me is never the same.
The lyrics of this beautiful song brought a tidal wave of powerful memories and a torrent of intense emotion. Suddenly, I was reliving the first time I saw Jane, a bone thin Ugandan widow suffering from AIDS and TB. Her skin was draped on her frail body and she coughed in painful spasms. She was standing there in front of me weeping, her shoulders hunched over, her eyes full of indescribable pain. She couldn’t feed herself or her children. The memory still reduces me to sobs. It still feels as intense as the day it happened. Then I saw another HIV positive widow named Joyce. Years earlier she watched in horror as her parents, her brothers and sisters and her husband were slaughtered by rebel soldiers wielding sharp machetes. Her and her daughter were the only survivors. She somehow managed to dig their graves bury them herself. Then she took her siblings’ children with her to Kampala…all 15 of them. Last year, her only biological daughter was killed in a car accident. The injustice of it all brings an intense white-hot anger. Then one after the other I remembered all 120 of them each with a unique story to tell. I choked back sobs and refused to shake free of the memory. As hard as it was, I sat in it…all of it. As the memories of these widows washed over me, I looked over and the only thing I could say to Jesus was ‘I love them.” He gently smiled and said, “Do you know what love is?”
Do I know what love is? This questioned lingered in my mind for days. There is no doubt I feel deep empathy and compassion for these dear widows. There is no doubt that some of them have become my friends. There is no doubt that I have given my resources to meet their physical needs. There is no doubt that I have tried to share their courage, hopes and dreams with anyone who will listen. But, does that answer the question? Is that love or is it social action? Is it love or is it a stroke to my own ego? Is it love or does it fill a deeper desire of mine to help the unfortunate? Suddenly I felt nervous and scared. Why did Jesus always have to look so deeply into my motives? Why was the authenticity of my love always in question? Why was I being so defensive?
About a year ago, I asked the God to teach me to love….really love--like he does. Now a year later, it seemed as if God was going to peel the onion a little deeper. As it turns out, you never really master the art of loving. It is a lifelong process…at least for me. So, I lowered by defenses, turned back into the memories and asked myself that question that seemed to probe into a tender place. Do I really love them?
I have been communicating with the widows since I have returned to the US and life for them has not improved. Although, we raised $16,000 in order to purchase a piece of land for them, no land has yet become available. It has been a much more difficult task then any of us anticipated to purchase a good sized piece of land. I just spoke with them the other day only to find out that they have to be out of their current houses by January 31st. Time is running out. They are scared and clinging to the slim hope of finding a piece of land in the next week. As you can imagine, conversations with them are becoming more frantic and I have found myself wanting to avoid the phone call. Wondering if it would be easier to distance myself from the weight of it all.
Some Christians have told me that I was foolish to try to help them in the first place. In their opinion it is better left to the “professionals” in big ministries and big NGO’s. Some have tried to comfort me, saying, “You tried your best. You did more than most people. God will bring someone else forward.” Still others try to spiritualize it all by saying that if God doesn’t find the women land, he just isn’t “in the project.” So, here I am wading deep in the memories of women I have come to know and love while voices of doubt and rationalization are begging me to escape the stench of failure. In the midst of all that, a beautiful voice sings a song and God asks the question, “Do you know what love is?”
Finally I dare to say, Yes, I know deep down despite all my selfishness that I really do love them. As much as my plan of rescue may have failed, I do love them. It isn’t just emotion, it’s commitment. So what do you do when you love someone in deep distress? Do you back off slightly hoping God brings someone else to help? That would be the easy way out. Or do you throw up your hands and say “I tried”? After all, it is a total failure, right? God doesn’t allow things to fail, does he? Then a small whisp of a memory comes floating by….I see Joseph rotting in prison in Egypt for years. Then I see the Jews wandering the desert for 40 years. Neither one of those plans went “as planned” yet God was not asleep at the switch. It was as if failure was as much a part of his plan as success was. He didn’t love them any less even though they saw more failure then most. Through it all God never left them. He loved them.
Suddenly, it occurred to me that love means standing in the darkness with them. It means letting this looming failure wash over me too. It means clinging to the promises of God in the same frantic way they are. It means standing beside them no matter how difficult it gets. It means putting their needs ahead of my own. It means cozying up to sacrifice. It means saying even when it is easier to leave, I will stay put.
I am scared though. I know my own propensity to opt for the easy way out. I know my own desire for a pain free existence. I want to live a life of happiness, wealth and priviledge…nothing but butterflies, ice cream cones and beautiful sunsets. Yet, I have fallen in love with women whose lives reek with pain, lonliness and despair. It is so much easier to flee…to go back to my comfortable life, but now that I know what I know and have heard what I’ve heard, I just can’t go back.
One thing I know about God is that he is ever present in times of trouble and can be found in the most painful places. So, to love is to stay in the place where Jesus is; therefore, I will love the widows not just in emotion, but in commitment. I will stay with them in the pain and the uncertainty and, yes, even in the failure.
After days of wrestling with this question of love, I look over at Jesus and he smiles nods his head and says, “Your love story has now begun…”
Monday, January 7, 2008
Farther Down the Road, But No Destination in Sight: An Atypical New Years Letter
Over the last year, I have left the familiar in pursuit of the unknown. I have embraced the wildness of God and accepted his invitation to the journey of a lifetime. I followed God into places where I can’t predict what will happen next and where I have given up all pretences of being in control. In order to be intimate with Jesus I decided to loosen my grip on the life I had created for myself—to watch it all fall away, until everything I had defined myself with was gone. I sold my house. I left my job. I left my friends. I left my community. I left my country. I left my dog. Suddenly, there I was stripped clean. It was then that God began to show me how he defined me. Now that I had lost my life, I finally began to find it.
Beloved. First and foremost, I am loved from the top of my head to the tip of my toes, from the dark recesses of my soul to my bubbly exterior. I am loved deeply and completely. God has imprinted me on the palm of hand and I am the apple of his eye. I left for Uganda early last spring with no idea what I would do and who I would meet. The more I gave up control, the more God created the most amazing ways to care for me. My first day in Uganda, a dear woman of God took me into her home. She cooked for me, taught me to wash my clothes and anticipated my every need. Her hospitality felt like the very hands of Jesus wrapped around me. God then introduced me to others who loved me so deeply and completely, that I saw God’s love in ways that have changed me forever. That beautiful love has altered the course of my life. Those last months in Uganda, I was bathed in love and it was both overwhelming and intoxicatingly beautiful.
Lover. Because I am loved so deeply, God has allowed me to love those he loves. Shortly after arriving in Uganda, I met Joyce, a widow who loves her fellow widows. I spent time with her. I began to know her, and then I began to love her. She then introduced me to 120 other beautiful widows who my heart also loved. Most of these women are refugees from the war in the north and have witnessed atrocities we can’t even imagine. Half of these women are HIV positive and all of them are caring for 5 or more children. They are desperately poor and as of January 31, 2008 they will be kicked off the land they are living on now. I know this because I spent time with each of them in their homes. I listened, I prayed with them, I gave them money when they were sick, I laughed with them, I walked with them, and I held them as they cried. I am committed to standing with them in good times and bad, in sickness and in health as now their happiness is wrapped up in mine. I am in a love relationship with them and it is one of the hardest and most beautiful things I have ever done.
Conqueror. Fear will no longer rule, for I am more than a conqueror with Jesus by my side. I used to get afraid….of so many things. I was afraid that I was unlovable. I was afraid of failure. I was afraid to leave the comfort of my life. But, now I am no longer afraid. Sometimes, I think fear is a lot like the wizard behind the curtain. In Oz he made things look bigger and scarier then they really are, however when Dorothy’s little dog exposed him for who he was; fear ceased to exist—it lost all its power. This year fear lost a lot of its power over my life. Now, with the deadline for the widows quickly approaching and no land to purchase in sight, I am resisting the temptation to be afraid. God said that we will be conquerors, so conquerors we will be. Fear is now making this situation seem big and scary, but God will show us what’s behind the curtain and fear will loose its power! I really have no idea how this will all resolve itself in the next couple of weeks, but I am certain God does.
Communicator. God told me to go to Uganda and listen. He wanted to show himself through the least, the lost and the left out. So, when I arrived, I listened and then wrote down the stories of God’s incredible grace and mercy. I wrote about widows who watched as the rebels slaughtered their loved ones, I wrote about former child soldiers who were crying out to God for strength and healing, I wrote about women who were infected with HIV by husbands who created on them, I wrote about widows who were rescued by the miraculous hand of God. I felt like there were so many stories and not enough time to tell them all. I am incredibly humbled and honored (and frankly somewhat perplexed), that Jesus chose me to be his storyteller. It is my greatest joy and deepest expression of my love for my savior.
So now after traveling deep into the brush of the unknown, I have caught a glimpse of who God has created me to be. It is not all I will be, nor all that I am now, but I much prefer lover to homeowner; beloved to suburbanite; conqueror to safe living; and communicator to silent observer. In 2007, I learned to live, really, really live. I lost everything, but gained more than I ever had before.
How about you? Will you wander with me into God’s wildness in 2008? Be advised it will be dangerous but…. you just might find yourself.
Happy New Year!
Kari
For the traditionalists: Highlights of 2007:
1) Spent 5 months in Uganda loving widows and orphans. Partnered with Dorcas Widows Project to buy land for a group of widows who are being chased off their land. (See Widows Update below) Taught English to a group of orphans at a boys home. Met the love of my life. Spent time in Gulu with former child soldiers & abducted children.
2) Started teaching 4th grade again in August.
3) My brother and his wife had their first baby! We were quite lucky to spend time with him over Christmas.
4) I sold my house.
5) I received another leave of absence from the school district. My last day will be February 1st.
6) I will leave for Uganda on February 12, 2008.
Update on the Dorcas Widows Project:
Wow! What a year! First of all, I want to thank all of you who gave of your resources and your time to support these dear ladies. You are truly helping some of God’s beloved women who have largely been forgotten by the world. We were able to raise $16,000 for the cost of the land. That is an act of God!
The widows are frantically looking for land to purchase by January 31st. They put in a bid on two other pieces of land but were out bid on one and the other piece of land was unlivable. So, now they are looking, looking, looking. I have asked two college interns to attend all their meetings so that I can keep in the loop of what is happening. We need to really get on our knees and pray, pray, pray!!
I have also been calling two of the widows to love and support them as they look. I can’t wait to see them all in person! I still have some of the beautiful necklaces, bracelets and bags that they made. They are really beautiful, so if you are in the Minneapolis area and want to take a look, feel free to email me. We will not sell them, but will accept donations for the widow’s project. They come with a decorative tag that explains about the widows and the project.
If you are interested in supporting these ladies further, please feel free to contact me karimillermn@gmail.com. Dorcas Widows Ministry is now a project under another 5013C ministry, so we are able to provide all tax documentation.
Monday, September 17, 2007
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
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