My Africa

Today began with our last breakfast in Gulu and a tearful goodbye with Tonny and Suzan. As we stood in a circle holding hands, Tonny offered up a prayer for safe travels and blessings on our family and the farm. We climbed in the van for our final trip with Ismail. As we drove along the same roads we traveled just 9 days earlier, Betsy and I commented on how different it all felt. The scenery and faces we passed by seemed somehow familiar. We laughed at how we were now used to the lack of traffic laws in this country. There weren’t near as many white-knuckled gasps from the Americans in the back of the van this time around!

My parents and Brody were able to sleep or read, but Betsy and I just stared out the windows. I didn’t want to miss anything. This was my last chance to feel all the speed bumps, to witness the crazy driving, to see the bright colored buildings, the red dust, the banana trees, the goats, the chickens, the wandering Zebu (cows with funny horns), and the many faces. So many faces… There are always people walking the roads here. It didn’t matter what time of day we were on the roads. Early morning or late in the evening, there are always people out walking. Then there’s the boda bodas. Old school motorcycles carrying anywhere from 2 to 4 people, weaving in and out of traffic with no hesitation. (Suzan says boda boda accidents are the number one cause of death in Uganda, and I can see why.)

I was snapping pictures out of both sides of the van. I was doing my best to permanently capture these faces and scenes in my mind. I just don’t want to forget anything. I want to remember how this place made me feel. I want to remember the smell and the sounds. I tried to piece together the right words so I can adequately describe them to people when I get home. But I’m not it’ll translate… I’ll be able to paint the picture, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to fully convey how this place made me feel.

Somehow, these last 12 days have made me feel like a part of this place belongs to me; and I guess in a way it does. The people, my new friends, the smells, the sounds, the emotions and the thoughts that went along with them are mine to cherish. So as we began the 6-hour drive back to the Entebbe airport, I watched and listened and breathed deeply… This trip has painted a portrait of Africa for me that is wholly mine. It’s like I have my own piece of Africa that will be coming home with me and I don’t want to leave any of it behind.

Our plane is taxiing down the runway as I write this. I’m about to leave my Africa, and part of me just wants to cry. But, as my sister puts it, “I miss my people,” and the thought of seeing them in 30 some hours makes my heart grin from ear to ear. Okay, some of that grin might have to do with the thought of a diet coke or an Irish Cream cappuccino… But then I feel guilty. Guilty for wanting to leave. Guilty for wanting to get back to a life where I don’t have to worry about the water or the food; where I can have the coffee I love, and a diet coke. Pure unnecessaries… (not sure if that’s a word, but I’m going with it…)

Coming home is going to be challenging… I’ve changed. Just enough that I’m already preparing myself for how I’m going to react when my kids don’t want to eat the supper I made, or when they complain about being bored while holding their ipod, sitting in front of a big TV, with a boatload of toys and games in the cupboard downstairs! (I’m already getting all worked up….) I’ve changed in that my perspective will be a bit different, my frame of reference for things like parenting and work and relationships has shifted. My friend Kristi put it this way in an email I received a few days ago… “It sounds like this trip has changed the landscape of your heart.”  

And there it is. She managed to put into words what my Africa has done to me… or rather – has done FOR me. I don’t know how I’m going to feel over the next few days and weeks. I don’t know if anyone will even notice that I’ve changed. But I do know this – Africa has changed me, and my Africa will forever be a part of me and it will affect how I do life from here on out. It might be subtle, and it might be out there for everyone to see… only time will tell. But my Africa has given me my “anything” prayer and my job now is to find the courage to see it through. Anything, Lord. I’ll do anything for you…

Planting Trees

There’s a song by Andrew Peterson called “Planting Trees.” The song talks about planting trees now, letting the roots grow deep, so that when we are gone, the branches will “bless the dawn.”  A few years ago, Betsy put together a slide show for my parents for all of us to watch at our family Christmas party. She had this song playing in the background. It struck me back then how blessed I am to have parents that see the importance of going beyond what they think they can do, and choose to live in a world where they trust God to do all the doing for them. They may live in this world, but they are planting trees that will stretch into the next…

Over the last few days, I have been able to see some of their trees that have been planted here… and they are already spreading out their branches to “bless the dawn.”

Trees of Inspiration

People are watching what is happening here in Gulu, Uganda and beginning to dream a new dream for themselves. Not only are people starting farms or thinking differently about how to use their land, but people are starting to build farms in other countries to help those people see a different way to live.

Trees of Friendship

My mom says all the time that she can’t believe she has friends in Africa. And they do. It has been true joy to see my parents with their African friends. These are true friendships built on a common desire to spread the hope of the gospel to people who feel forgotten and unworthy. These are wonderful people who have become like family to my parents, and now to me. The thought of leaving here and not seeing them for what will most likely be years, brings tears.

Trees of Hope

The seeds of hope are being planted in all sorts of places here in Uganda. From the African bushland, to the streets of Gulu, to the government offices in Kampala, to the Church of Uganda, to the friends and supporters in America, hope is sprouting. People are beginning to see that something good can come out of Northern Uganda. People are starting to see that this type of project brings life into hurting communities and builds opportunities for a different future.

In the last few days, I have witnessed a praise and worship service at the farm to try and spread the gospel to the workers, their families and the surrounding villages. I have listened to stories of other businesses in town that are being blessed with the business the farm brings to them. I have built friendships with some of the sincerest, happiest, coolest people on the planet. I have handed out suckers and toys to children who are watching what’s going on here and wondering if they’ll get to be a part of it someday. I’ve met a Bishop who is working to have the biggest government university in Uganda partner with his church and the farm for training students in a new agricultural degree. I’ve listened to young men and women tell stories of what this farm has taught them and how it has already changed the course of their lives for the better. I have seen numerous farms already being started because of what they saw at Gulu Country Dairy. I have seen poverty and devastation. I have seen joy and hope. I have seen the truth that the pursuit of worldly things is truly a vain endeavor.

These are all seeds, planted by people who live life with their hands and feet working here on earth, but their eyes on heaven. They plant trees not for themselves, but for those who come after. Trees that stand for something good and exist to bless those who stand beneath its branches for a bit of shade from their heat scorched life.

So where do I go from here? How am I to follow in these footsteps? Lord, I want to plant trees too! I want to be able to pray the “anything” prayer that Jennie Allen talks about in her book “Anything.” (Thank you, Bonnie, for sending that with me and making everything else in my backpack dead weight!) I want to earnestly pray the prayer that says I’ll give up everything for God; the prayer that says “I’ll give up what I cannot keep, so I can gain what I cannot lose.” That is so exciting to me and yet incredibly scary. I think I need to go stand in the shade and muster up my courage before I step into the heat of battle. Hmmm… I think I know the perfect tree…

“Planting Trees” by Andrew Peterson

We chose the spot
We dug the hole
We laid the maples in the ground
To have and hold

As autumn falls
To winters sleep
We pray that somehow in the spring
The roots grow deep

And many years from now
Long after we are gone
These trees will spread their branches out
And bless the dawn, hmm

He took a plane
To Africa
He gathered up into his arms
An orphan son

So many years from now
Long after we are gone
This tree will spread its branches out
And bless the dawn

So sit down and write that letter
Sign up and join the fight
Sink in to all that matters

Step out into the light

Let go of all that's passing
Lift up the least of these
Lean into something lasting
Planting trees,

She rises up
As morning breaks
She moves among these rooms alone
Before we wake

And her heart is so full
It overflows
She waters us with love
And the children grow

So many years from now
Long after we are gone
These trees will spread their branches out
And bless the dawn

Ashes and Beauty

"The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion – to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair." Isaiah 61: 1-3

Isaiah 61 is one of my favorite chapters in the Bible. The imagery it uses to speak of what Jesus will do for his people is beautiful and it just plain makes me happy! This passage contains the phrase “beauty instead of ashes” which has special meaning to me, but what I love most about it is that it tells, in four little words, what God’s redemptive grace can do for broken lives and what He has done for me.

But here, in this place, the words of this passage take on a different feel for me. In an earlier blog, I talked about how in just driving around this town, you can’t deny the harsh reality of what a 20-year war has done to these people and this land. In this place, these words aren’t just imagery; they have faces and they are always walking along the side of the road. These faces are broken hearts that need binding. Men and women living in prisons of shame, addiction, and no opportunity. Moms and dads who need release from the darkness of their despair. There are mourners who need comfort and grieving souls that need provision. This is what I see as Ismail drives us out to the farm everyday…

It was the same this morning, but little did I know that I would drive back to the hotel with a much different view of the many faces along the road.

This morning was a meeting in the schoolhouse. To be honest, I wasn’t super excited about a meeting. I do enough meetings in my normal life… But the students at the school wanted to sit down with my dad and Tonny to talk about how the program has been going, and my dad wanted us to sit in on it.

This group of 3 men and 2 women are the first group of students to go through this program. It was basically designed to teach them the 10 commandments of farming in each aspect of running a dairy farm. Areas such as business, crop management, herd health, animal husbandry, nutrition, farm maintenance…

Godfrey Omony, the instructor, started the meeting off with a student-led prayer. He then had each student share their story and what they have gained over the past 7 months. As the students went around, I began to see the depth of what this farm is doing for these students and this country.

Bob, a young man who has been married for one year, shared how he and his wife discussed what they wanted their future to look like and they both agreed that being a dairy farmer would allow them a better life. So he quit his job and enrolled at the school. His words were “I am now ok with being called a farmer.”

Godfrey, another student, is a staff member at a Teen Challenge program. They wanted to send someone here to bring back the skills and knowledge to help Teen Challenge start a farm where their students can learn a skill. Godfrey said he was chosen because he was single with no responsibilities. He had no experience with animals or farming or business, but he came. He is a former addict himself and he talked of how this program has changed his life and given him new purpose. He never imagined that this is what farming could be.  

Nancy talked of how this program has felt to her like puzzle pieces coming together. She is already a teacher and now is determined to somehow put teaching and farming together. She called this program an answer to her prayers.

Faith, 8 months pregnant, called herself a farmer as she talked about the farming skills she is now confident in. She also talked about wanting to learn more... She wants to know how to drive a tractor, breed a cow, build a barn… she wants to help new farmers build better lives for themselves.

Clarkson actually came to a few small training sessions that Tonny held last year. He immediately saw the value and has already started a farm with two partners. They have built their own barn using the principles of what they saw at Gulu Country Dairy. They have also built a bunker silo for the feed they are growing. (I should say something here about how the concept of growing crops and storing up feed is something very new here. It is almost unheard of.) He has learned how to mix rations for the cows and how to put together a health program. The cows’ production continues to rise. He has learned better milking practices, and has put together a business plan for the future. His last phrase was “This place has inspired us to farm differently.”

What I was hearing were not stories of devastation or despair, but hope and excitement.

As I was taking this all in, Tonny started talking of restoration. How the Bible says we are to be restorers of this broken world and how this farm is “restoring the age-old foundations of agriculture in Uganda.” “This farm is bringing life back to these people.” That was his final statement, and as he sat down, I looked at my dad… It was his turn next and I could see the wheels turning as to what he was going to say… As he started talking, I have to say I tuned him out a bit… (That really shouldn’t surprise him to hear me say that…) But all I could think was how God is using my father, his friends on the advisory board, our family, our many other friends and supporters and these wonderful Ugandan people to bring restoration to this beautiful country. They are showing these people that hope is not lost; the spirit of despair is no longer welcome. Their ashes can be replaced with a garment of praise and a beautiful crown. God’s restoration and renewal is on the move in Gulu, Uganda!

“They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of His splendor. They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated; they will renew the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations.” Isaiah 61:4

Dark Silence

Today was a day of many thoughts… I’m not sure how I’m going to find words to adequately describe the range of emotions I felt today. It started with a sleepless night in dark silence. The kind of dark silence that comes with a power shut off. Apparently this happens almost nightly here in Gulu. The town loses power at night due to an inadequate infrastructure. So businesses that have the funds, will have back-up generators. Churchill Downs, our hotel, has a generator, but it doesn’t kick on until 6 in the morning. I don’t know when the power shut off, but it felt like eternity sitting in the darkness and silence.  

It was so quiet… and dark... I couldn’t sleep, but there was no power so getting up to read or watch TV wasn’t really an option either. So I laid in my comfortable, safe bed and started thinking about all the people in the houses and huts around Gulu that might be lying awake like me, in this dark silence. Families in mud huts with thatched roofs, and people in brick homes with curtains for windows and doors… and what about the people that have no roof to sleep under… and what about all those kids that are always walking the side of the road? Where are they right now? Are they sleeping peacefully or are they cold? Hungry? Afraid no one will come home? Afraid someone will come home? My mind was full of sad stories and desperate situations.

Finally, the generator kicked on and we were up for the day. Matt calls and says the kids had a hard time going to bed and he assured them he would wake them up to video chat if he was able to reach me. It was 11pm at home and as Matt attempted to wake up my sleeping children, the sight of them wrapped up in their cozy blankets brought me to tears. I was overwhelmed with thankfulness for their warm beds and their ability to sleep with no worry of food or warmth or safety.

The morning brought us back to the market in search of a few items my dad needed and then Ismail brought us to the Watoto Baby Home. I wasn’t sure how this place would affect me. Fully aware of my emotional tendencies, I was bracing myself for the lump in my throat that goes hand in hand with me holding back tears. But it wasn’t like that… We were treated to a tour of this beautiful facility that takes in orphaned and abandoned babies from 0 to 20 months. These babies are so well taken care of. They are happy and thriving in “families” of 4 kids to one house mother who is with them the whole time they are in this facility. They have clean clothes, toys, food, warm beds, love and companionship. They become part of their own little family. It was heartbreaking and incredibly beautiful at the same time…

They had one baby that had just been admitted to the program. She was one month old. Her mother didn’t make it through childbirth and there was no father or family to claim her. She was sleeping in a little crib in her own little room. As we took turns getting a glimpse of this little girl, she “smiled” as tiny babies sometimes do. Tears welled up. I was wrecked and relieved in a single moment. Here was this little girl, who will never know her mother, has no family of her own, has nothing in this world and is completely vulnerable. Yet I found myself thinking this girl is one of the lucky ones. She will have someone watching over her, making sure she has clothes and food, a place to live and schools to attend…  My thoughts went to all the faces of kids waving at our van as we drive past. There are so many beyond the walls of this facility that will never have those opportunities. They may have parents, but they will have no opportunity. Words can’t express the emotional confusion running through my heart as we left that place.

Next we found ourselves at The Living Hope Center for vulnerable women. This ministry is also run by the Watoto Church in Gulu. It is a day program for women who are HIV+ or victims of the LRA during the war. They are offered trauma counseling, discipleship classes, medical care, and vocational training. Gladys, the women who showed us around, talked about offering healing and hope to these women’s hearts. She talked of replacing hurt with love and self-esteem and God. They have outreach programs that reach out into the community to help identify these women. They also partner with schools to reach out to young girls in an effort to keep them in school. They work not only with the schools, but also the families to educate them on how important it is for their girls to learn. Again, it was heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time.

We sat in a room of maybe 40 peddle sewing machines where these women learn to tailor. A few women were busy sewing little stuffed giraffes that are then sold as souvenirs or to raise money for the program. They were smiling as I took a few pictures as if it was the highlight of their day. When in fact, I felt honored that they would allow me to steal a moment of their time for a silly picture. She then took us to a backroom where they were pulling some of their crafts out of bins for us to shop through. Stuffed animals, jewelry, placemats and table runners. Shea butter lotions, peanut butter and honey, bags and dolls. Beautiful things made by beautiful hearts. This place was filled with stories of redemption and regained dignity.

As I sit here at our hotel writing all this, I’m staring at a beautifully landscaped garden with a 7 foot wall behind it. A wall that provides security from the surrounding community as well as something nicer to look at than the reality on the other side. This was a day of harsh reality for me as well as beautiful scenes of redemption and hope. To be honest, a power outage and that dark silence from the night before don’t sound so bad right now. My thoughts are still all over the place and I’m emotionally exhausted. But I know there is hope. There is always hope. I guess what I need to take away from all this right now is that God is here in the midst of it all. He’s in the heartache and the healing. He’s with those tiny little babies and the beautiful women who take care of them. He’s with those traumatized women and the counselors and teachers that help them find hope and dignity; and he’s with me, in this faraway place. He is in the midst of every dark silence.

Moving Stones

Ted told us a story tonight about one of his cement laying trips here with my dad… The story started with a connection he and my dad made with the Catholic school next to the farm. Through that relationship, they ended up borrowing a cement mixer from the school to help make their job go faster. The following day, a gentleman from the school came under the fence to see what was happening with the mixer. He was looking at the cement project and was wondering why they weren’t’ using rebar. Ted pointed at my dad and said with a smile, “cause that guy says we don’t need it.” So the gentleman went to talk with my father. A few minutes later, he made his way back to the fence and as he passed Ted, he muttered under his breath, “It’s like moving a stone!”

We all laughed because those of us sitting at that table know what it’s like to work with my dad. He is a focused man who knows a lot about a lot of things. When he says, “it’ll be fine,” it usually is. And if everyone says “it can’t be done.” My dad won’t quit until he finds a way to get it done. He may be a stone that won’t move sometimes, but he is also the one to figure out a way to move some stones if that’s what is needed.

He is also a man who knows in his knower that the message of the Bible is meant to be lived out and shared. He is passionate about the church and its purpose. And he loves people. And his ability to “move stones” has brought him here to Uganda. And he has moved a lot of stones since Gulu Country Dairy began.

In fact, I think he finds himself moving stones every time he comes here. Some of it is simply because of cultural differences and I think some of it is because he has 75 years of farming under his belt and these people have 3. The biggest stone is probably that he can’t just drive down to Fleet Farm or Tractor Supply and pick up the things he needs to fix what needs fixing. Every setback encountered is a puzzle to solve. While I was at the farm today, it took them 45 minutes to cut 2 inches off the end of a board... The generator had broken down and the handsaw was MIA. They truck the generator from the school house down to the building site only to realize that the cord on the circular saw had been cut. Electrical tape is found and then the key for the generator has to be located… and my father just kept solving and moving stones…

I am so thankful for parents that aren’t afraid to dig in and move stones that stand in the way of the Gospel being shared and people being encouraged here in Gulu, Uganda. My dad has always had the attitude of anything is possible. But seeing it here, in this setting, is like watching the perfect game. This is why my dad learned the things he did. This is why he struggled through the hard times that he did. This is why God gave him the life he has lived. It seems to all culminate here, in this project, with these people, in this far-away place. All the hard days of practice and all the knowledge learned come together in a perfect moment of clarity and purpose.

I think we all move stones. Every day we move stones. I also think that sometimes we are the stones that need moving… I think my trip here is moving stones. Stones of prejudice. Stones of entitlement. Stones of a closed mind or maybe just a naïve mind. Either way, they are stones that needed to be moved and stones that I will continue to have to move, and they’re not easy stones to move…

But God never said life would be easy, but He does say He’ll go before us, walk beside us and carry us when we need it. With that in mind, let’s get to movin’ some stones!

I Will Lift Him Higher

Today was a good day. I love this place. I love these people. I love spending time with my son, my sister and my parents. I love it that there's no snow and I love having someone just drive us around all day wherever we want to go. But what I really enjoyed was getting to know the people and the places I've been hearing about from my mother since this project began.

We started at the farm, in the schoolhouse.  Suzan & Tonny have started a "fellowship" group which meets in the schoolhouse at the farm. It began as a way to teach the farm workers and their families about Jesus. But it has grown to include the surrounding villages. They meet  on Saturday mornings. They sing, they pray, they hear the Word, they give testimonies and they welcome people into the family of God. The pastor from the Watoto church in Gulu comes to preach, when he can. Otherwise, people fill in. Today, it was the pastor's wife.

Tonny's sister, Nancy leads worship. Their instruments are a water jug and two handmade shakers and their voices... oh their voices. The drums would start the beat, the shakers would add their "shake" and Nancy would start the song. Then everone would join with voices, hands, and bodies. I couldn't understand all the words, but one phrase was very clear, "I will lift Him higher." It was always preceded by something like: in my home, I will lift Him higher. In my work, I will lift Him higher. In my travels, I will lift Him higher. I fell in love with these people and was reminded just how big my God is.

Next we walked down to the building site where my dad, Brody, Tonny, Ted and a few others were working on setting posts and leveling the building site. My heart burst with all sorts of emotions at the  sight of my son working along side my father in Uganda! And Brody was all smiles, even in the hot sun.

Then it was on to the Karin Clinic that my mother adores. She thinks of the women that work there as her daughters and has left her mark in the supply room as well as on the walls. My niece has also left her mark there in the form of an awesome mural on the outside wall with the verse "Let the little children come to me." We emptied our suitcases of all the supplies we brought with us and got the grand tour of this small, but efficient clinic. There was a little girl and an even littler boy there receiving IV medication for severe cases of Malaria. Fortunately, I had two suckers in my bag just for them!! So precious...

Later in the evening, while we were waiting for our meal, I went for a short walk with my mom down the street outside our gated hotel. (Yes, Dad, we went outside the gates, Mom said it was ok!) She asked me what has surprised me most about Uganda. My answer? I'm surprised at just how alike we as people really are. We may have different skin color, different customs, and we may live thousands of miles apart, but we're all searching for something in this life and we all have something to give in this life. We smile for the same reasons and we cry for the same reasons. Poverty has the same effect on people and families in Uganda, as it does in America and all over the world. It strips them of hope and sometimes of their dignity. And we all deserve to know the hope and dignity that only Jesus offers. That's why I'm in Uganda right now... because my parents felt called to bring hope to a hurting people. Thank you, Mom and Dad, for following the path God laid out for you even when you had no idea where it would lead. You are indeed, lifting Him higher.

Purpose Filled Days

Purpose. That’s the word on my heart this morning. It’s been on my heart for a while now actually… I haven’t been sure of my purpose in coming here. To be honest, I haven’t been sure of my purpose in life lately. Then on the drive up to Gulu yesterday, I was struck by the seemingly lack of purpose in the many people sitting alongside the road or on the front step of their homes or just wandering the roadside. It was quite overwhelming…

Then we arrive at the farm, and it was very clear to me that my father has a very clear purpose when he’s here. As my mom, Betsy and I were visiting with Suzan and getting a tour, my father was already scanning the new building site for the tool shed, checking out the lumber that had been delivered, and talking about how they’re going to level out the site… they need some fill and where are they going to get it?

It struck me that our purpose is sometimes found in the place God puts us. He doesn’t always ask us to go and find our grand purpose, but to stay put and do what needs to be done… I am here for the purpose of being here and to listen to what God is saying I need to do today. I think some of my purpose here is to witness my parents in this place. (That thought brings me to tears because seeing them here is such a gift.)

Side note: I’m sitting outside at our hotel and the biggest bumblebee-like bug I’ve ever seen just buzzed by and it was all I could do to not run screaming from my table…. but I’m pretty sure it’s not my purpose to give every American and woman the reputation of being a wimp!!

Back to my thoughts for today… We are heading to the farm this morning to be part of a “fellowship” that Tonny and Suzan have started hosting at the farm for the farm workers and their families. They sing and listen to God’s word in the Acholi language, the language of the local tribe in this area. That shows to me that Tonny and Suzan have a pretty clear idea of their purpose here at Gulu Country Dairy Uganda… spreading the one true hope or our eternal, heavenly Father. Not only through the farm and the cows and creating jobs and spurring an economy, but also through the mere presence of this farm in this community, in this country, on this continent.

So I’m going back to my earlier statement about purpose and it will become my mantra for my stay here: my purpose will be found where God puts me today. And here I go….

Far Country

3 continents, 13,000 miles, 24 hours. Goodbyes and hellos. Tears and smiles. The Hobbit and Andrew Peterson. Not so bad airplane food and pretty terrible coffee. These are the moments of the last two days of my life. Then there was the window seat…

When I asked Brody if he wanted aisle or window while walking onto our second flight to Kigale, Rwanda, I was hoping he would say window… but I got “stuck” with it. I crawled in and began setting up residence along with a pillow, blanket, and a rather large, overstuffed backpack.

Sleeping on planes has never been a talent of mine, but I was oh so tired, so I dug out my headphones and started up my go to music selection, Andrew Peterson. I have three of his albums, so I told it to play randomly and tried to settle in for the long flight. I didn’t pay much attention to the window; we took off in pretty dense fog and clouds. But I soon realized I was missing quite the sights…. Beautiful snow-capped mountains. (I think they belonged to Eastern Europe. I really need to play more Stack The Countries!) I finally figured out Greece, then Egypt, the sand, sand and more sand of the Sahara Desert.  The Nile River, then Sudan, over Uganda to Rwanda… (I may have pulled out my phone and checked the map on Stack the Countries…)

My brain had a hard time wrapping around what I was actually seeing; and it seemed every time I woke up from a short uncomfortable doze, Mr. Peterson was singing his song “Far Country.” The gist of the song is that we are all living in a “far country” because earth is not our forever home. And I have to say that this many miles from my family and “home,” it was an interesting concept to think about… All my fears of missing home and family and my fears of the unknowns that I will encounter over the next few days seemed to lessen. This is just part of my journey and I’m blessed that it brought me here.

But enough of my babbling…. We arrived in Entebbe around 10:30pm local time. 24 hours after take off. First thing I noticed was the warm air, and my mother is right… Africa has a very distinct smell. It’s not bad, it’s just there. Then we found our luggage, piled in Ishmael’s “Tourist Van” (as it says on the side…) and drove about 20 minutes to our hotel. Which is lovely! It reminds me a bit of an Ernest Hemingway novel. (That just made me sound really smart, didn’t it?) tall ceilings, warm English looking woodwork, simple and comfortable… I’m gonna sleep well tonight….

And there it is… sleep. Now that I’ve said it, I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m so very tired…. And with that… I say goodnight…..  shhhh. I’m sleeping….

So much more than a 12 day trip...

I've been looking forward to this trip since the first time my mom and dad went to Africa a few years ago... All that's happened since then is truly amazing to me and a testament to how God can work wonders through unsuspecting but Holy Spirit led believers. I never expected my parents to be travelling back and forth to Uganda several times a year. In fact my mom will say she never thought she'd have such good friends all the way in Africa!

But God has used their gifts, talents and life experiences to bring hope to a war-torn, neglected part of Uganda; and that hope comes in the black and white shape of a Holstein dairy cow. An animal that was so normal to me growing up... dirty... and smelly. But they were always there. They put food on the table and a roof over our heads. They put all four of us girls through Christian schools and colleges. They helped my father create a business that now supports in some way, all of us and our families. They were so ordinary to me as a kid, but now they are something quite extraordinary.

They are now the main attraction at a 20 cow dairy operation in Gulu, Uganda; and they could be just the thing to build a new economy.  They are creating jobs. They are creating in families a desire to work for more than a day's existence. They are creating opportunities for Ugandan men and women to build a better future for their kids and their country. My parents have been there at every stage of the process; and now my oldest son, Brody, and I get to go and see these extraordinary cows. (Be prepared for a lot of cow pictures!)

So here we are... less than 36 hours from take off... My state of mind could be summed up with about every emoji and I have a lot of lists running though my head... lists for packing, last minute items I need to round up, people I need to touch base with, things about the kids I need to make sure Matt knows before I leave, and things I want to remember when I'm finally there...

Thank you to everyone that has wished us well and thank you to those who will be praying for us. Thank you to my husband for encouraging me in this and for holding down the fort here and thank you to those who will be helping him with rides, meals and everything else that moms do.... And of course, thank you to my kids for making my upcoming absence seem like no big deal! I know I'm only gone for 12 days, but it feels like so much more than just a 12 day trip...

I will try to keep you updated as our trip progresses, and I'm sorry in advance for the blog posts that will be too long or too short or non-existent. I just don't know what to expect when I get there... what will the wi-fi be like? Will I have enough brain power to put two sentences together by evening? And to be honest, if someone shows up to hang out at the hotel with my parents (like I'm told happens quite often), I'll be sitting in on that, taking it all in and thanking God for this amazing opportunity!