The Big Picture

Only five days left in Uganda!  That was my first thought this morning after another sleepless night.  However, I wasn't thinking about it because I'm longing for my own bed (although that does sound nice right now:)  I was feeling overwhelmed by how much I want to/hope to/pray to accomplish in these last five days.  My focus shifted from the "one life at a time" perspective to the overwhelming need in so many different areas and my own (& the rest of the teams) ever-present limitations.  Never a good thing!

I arrived at Wakisa Ministries (a home for young, mostly abandoned pregnant girls that I've visited on my last two trips to Uganda) a few hours later feeling overwhelmed and quite inadequate.  Not to mention, I had no idea what they were expecting of us today.  We were immediately welcomed by an incredible staff team and more than thirty young girls who'd been sitting under a tent, waiting for our arrival.

The Director, Vivian, gave us a tour of the home and I was amazed at how much they've grown in the past four years.  They've almost doubled in size and programs and I was so excited to hear about their vision to expand further to include transitional housing (right now the girls can only stay at the home for the first two weeks after their babies are born).  On our little tour we met one of the newest moms and her one week old baby, Moses:

We also saw where the girls sleep-- There are bunks for 30 pregnant girls in one room and then four beds in another room for those who have delivered their babies.  The babies sleep in the twin bed with them.

Vivian explained that a donor recently gave her 100 chickens.  We all laughed when she opened the door to where the chickens are housed, and said "now what am I supposed to do with these?"

 This is the "cooking kitchen."

And.....where they wash their clothes.  They used to wash in buckets on the floor until a volunteer group from Australia built this so the pregnant girls wouldn't have to bend all the way down to the floor!

Toward the end of the tour we met a young mommy who gave birth yesterday!  I was reminded of the birthing conditions in the hospitals here.  You labor alone (no medical staff present) in a room, usually with several other laboring women.  When it's time to push you get on the table (other women still laboring on the floor around you), a doctor delivers, and within a few hours you're home again!  This girl was walking around the house, doing chores, etc. 24 hours after giving birth!!  She showed us her baby girl and when we asked what her name was she said, "she doesn't have one yet.  You name her!"  That's the second time that's happened to us:)  So, today we named little Rebecca after Becki.
Here she is:

After our tour, they asked us to lead worship (well, the girls with the pretty voices:) Riley and I mumbled along!:)  Such a sweet time seeing them praise the Lord in the midst of their pain & absolute language barrier.  I then shared a message about brokenness.  Was able to share the story of Tamar and then a bit of my own story.  It was so hard to look into their eyes as I shared Tamar's story and to see how many resonated with the feelings of sexual abuse & abandonment.  We broke into groups after the message so each team member could spend time connecting with the girls.  I heard intense conversation in some groups as girls shared their stories and giggles from another.  We had given yarn to the girls and within a few minutes Kerri gave a knitting lesson!  What an incredible way to engage some of the quieter girls:)

Brett had a blast getting to know some of the girls as well and he convinced one of them to name her baby Brett.  Still not sure if it's after him or Puppy Brett:-)

The girls were all obsessed with Puppy Brett and with Riley.  Poor kid.  They love to grab her, try to pick her up, and to steal her puppy.  The crazy thing is I think they just wanted to hold the stuffed animal.  They were intrigued with her love for this "puppy" and they just wanted to hold it...and this strange blond child!

There were definitely moments where you could tell just how young these girls are....they're just kids!  Some were as young as 13...two got pregnant at 11.

I was assigned to a group of girls who didn't speak English and within about 10 minutes the interpreter told me that the girls wanted to meet with me individually/privately for a "counseling session."  All those earlier feelings of inadequacy rose to the surface again.  I spent years counseling at our clinic and yet I was terrified of these precious girls stories!  What could I possibly have to offer?  What would they share with me?
Before I could say anything a counseling room was ready and I was amazed that as soon as the door closed, each "seemingly quiet" girl began to pour out her heart.  I don't think anything could have ever prepared me for what they would share.  The stories included incidents of being raped in fields while gathering firewood and some even raped by their Priest; some sold for sex by family members, tortured by moms, step moms & dads, murders of family members, and the list goes on and on.
I was flooded with emotion, fighting back tears with each story.  There were moments that I just wanted to break down and cry with them...and others where I wanted to fix their problems!  They were crying out to be rescued and I wanted to do just that!  The heart wrenching thing is that every one of them just wanted desperately to find some kind of closure.  For some it was justification or acknowledgment of family members that they were wronged.  For others, it was being accepted (or allowed to return home) after they give birth.  Most were rejected by their families when they found out they were pregnant.  All voiced that they wanted their babies to have a better life and I found it so fascinating that they saw the baby as something beautiful, not a reminder of something evil that had happened to them (as so many Americans would claim!).  They wanted to be told that they were beautiful.  They wanted to be loved.  And every single one of them wanted to go to school....knowing that the only way they'll ever have a better life is if they have an education.  One girl was 18 years old and hasn't finished the 4th Grade.

My heart broke over & over.  I started calculating how much it would cost for me to send each one to school and  I wished I had the money to do just that.  But then, God so gently reminded me that I'm looking at the big picture..with my human eyes.  He's looking at the heart.  I needed that counseling room to be reminded that I don't have the answers.  I don't have the money to fix every problem I encounter.  And, that would never be the answer anyway.  I can't adopt every baby, and I can't rescue their mommies.  What I can do is lead them to the one who sees their pain, who stores their tears in a bottle, and who understands what it's like to be beaten, rejected, persecuted and abandoned.  It was one of the most humbling moments of my life.  I realized how we are blessed materially in the States but spiritually we are so dead.  While we so often reject God, and ignore His presence, these women understand the bible in ways that so many of us never will.  They understand the God cared so much about our suffering that He became it, He embraced it and He rose from the dead for it.

I couldn't even tell you what I said in that counseling room.  Most of the time I stared intently, blinking back tears, as they stared at me looking for emotion, validation & support.  I pray that God uses whatever simple words I managed to get out, my prayers & hugs.  I pray that a team of trained specialists would feel called to help.  Those who know how to work with traumatized women.  I pray that God provides miraculously for each life represented.  I pray that as I we go back to Wakisa on Wednesday, that we'll again be able to touch them in some small way.  But mostly, I pray that we will NEVER forget their faces, stories and that God will continue to break our hearts.