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.