Four hours later, I was wide awake, rehearsing it all in my mind, thinking through how I could say things simpler.  When the time finally rolled around, I was as excited as I am on opening day of football.

Now that it is all over, I still have no idea how useful it will be.  The 20 or so people who participated seemed appreciative, but they face realities so far beyond my understanding.  All I know to do is pray.  I know I spoke truth from God’s word.  I know He will accomplish whatever purpose for which it was sent forth.

It is evening as I write this and the rest of the Team is still out.  Out in a wild rainstorm, I might add.  It came up so quickly that it surprised everyone her in the hotel.  Heavy winds and dark skies moved in so quickly that I wondered if this were some African form of a tornado.  The wind slammed a heavy metal door shut in the lobby, which sounded like a cannon.  But now it appears to be just a torrential rain.  I bless the rains down in Africa.

The rest of the crew had planned to work at the dormitory this morning.  Plans shifted suddenly when one of the drivers said that they should see the “monkeys” (they are actually baboons) in Fort Portal, about 45 minutes away.  We passed through there last week on our way to the park, but only Ciarra saw a baboon.  So, off they went on the spur of the moment.  I told them they were abandoning me to go off and have fun, so I was praying they would not see a single monkey.  Just teasing, of course.  I hope they saw lots. [PS – The crew has arrived and they saw lots of baboons, which even came up to the vehicle to take bananas from their hands.]

I think we’re all excited to be in the final lap, but this is also a hard part of the trip.  Saying goodbye to friends here is not easy.  And saying goodbye to children who have wriggled their way into our hearts and firmly planted themselves there, well, that’s just downright awful.   Keli Horne is a dental hygienist from Clarion, PA.  She has done wonderful work with the children this week, cleaning teeth that are rarely (or ever) brushed.  But what she has been most passionate about is her sponsored child, Joseph.  She came down for dinner tonight and it was evident on her face that even though we are still here, she’s already missing him.  All of us feel that way, I suspect.

It’s hard to know if or when I can post again.  We leave early tomorrow morning for Kampala.  If we stay at the same hotel, there will be no internet.  And so the next post may be during our layover in D.C. on Tuesday morning.  If I can post more of our trip, I will.

Others have been in the field. Donna Syme has been working in the school. She came back tonight elated by the progress of the child with whom she has been working. Alissa expressed her pride in watching Donna over this week, noting how she knew Donna had been assigned a task out of her normal field, but she just persisted and cheerfully did all that was asked of her. I’m proud of Donna, too. I was a bit surprised when she expressed interest in this trip, and she face some obstacles along the way, but she has faithfully persevered. I know she has already been rewarded and that she has blessed as much as she has been a blessing.

Ciarra Karnes is another intern. She came with us in May and will leave with the group that comes in August. She was especially happy tonight to have had a positive influence in the thinking of a young girl who aspired to be a nurse, but thought she could not be a doctor because “only men can be doctors.” That kind of thought shows the very different reality of those cultures that have been touched by the good news of Jesus, in whom there is no male or female, and those cultures that have been held back by their customs, traditions and by less liberating religions and philosophies.

Belinda and Kirsten Sanders, along with Valerie Still. are an inseparable trio and a vital part of Team Uganda. Belinda, in addition to working in the medical clinic, distributing shoes, visiting in the community, and working in the school, is our resident photographer. She has captured so many incredible shots that I have begun to defer to her rather than taking my own pictures. Valerie and Kirsten are “attached at the hip” according to Belinda, but I think it is more like they are attached at the heart. Both have a passion for children, a passion for missions, a sense of adventure, and a zest for life such that I would not be surprised if the work we are doing now is a precursor of things to come. And in addition to all their other duties, they do the indispensable work of keeping the rest of us in good cheer.

It’s hard to believe that tomorrow is our last day in Kyenjojo. Saturday we leave for Kampala early in the morning. Pastor Victor’s father, like many Ugandans, has been married for many years but has never had a ceremony. On Saturday, the official ceremony will take place. It is known here as “Sanctifying the marriage.” We will also have some time for shopping before we begin the long trek home. As always, I am happy to be here, but I will also be happy to be back with my family. There is no place like home.

I spent this morning tutoring Kabajungu Immaculate. She is twelve years old, but is just now learning to count. I would point to a number on a flashcard, then count to that number, then we would hold hands and take that number of steps. We walked the entire perimeter of the school. And if we came to a five, we did high a high five. The same with tens. Before long, she was counting regularly without missing any numbers, but sight recognition of the number itself is still a struggle.

At the school, I saw the sandbox Bob Pattillo had built. Bob and Kaye truly amaze me. I really don’t know their ages, but I know they have the hearts of twenty-year-olds. Bob has built a mud house, painted the school, repaired furniture, and anything else needed. Kaye is in her element teaching the children. They are remarkable servants and an example to all of us. This is their first time in Uganda, but they have gone annually to Nicaragua for several years with an organization called “Chosen Children.” Do you detect a theme here? If so, you have a glimpse into the hearts of these special people.

Just before lunch, I went with Alissa and Veda to visit a lady named Harriet. She lives in one of the “apartments” near the office. It is actually an 8×12 room with concrete walls. It would have had the feel of a prison cell if not for the fact that she had a bunk bed, an upholstered chair and love seat, a coffee table, a dresser with a small TV, and a board with pegs the length of the side wall on which her entire wardrobe was hanging. It was clean and I could tell she took pride in that. Harriet has had a difficult 18 months. We listened to her story, offered her consolation from the Scriptures, and prayed with her. I was very touched by her story, and I will not forget to continue praying for her.

After lunch, we went to the dormitory for a “Play Day” with the children. What a blast. Valerie and Kirsten helped them finger paint, others helped make balloon animals, we blew up beach balls (though to Ugandan children, a beach ball is just a giant soccer ball). We wanted to fill water balloons, but couldn’t. So we improvised. I had a syringe from the clinic, which I could fill with a small amount of water and then squirt the children. Then we discovered that the same use could be made of the balloon pump, with maybe ten times the capacity. The kids all acted like they didn’t want to be squirted, when of course that is precisely what they wanted. And I managed to get some of Team Uganda little wet in the process.

Then it all got kicked up a notch. I helped Kirsten and Valerie fill up a washtub so that the finger-painters could wash up. Or at least I thought that was the purpose. As I then went on to fill up my little syringe, suddenly I was engulfed from behind by a small tidal wave. I turned to see the two young ladies, whom I had just helped, howling in laughter along with all the children, and holding the smoking gun (or in this case, the empty wash basin). And so I thought to myself, “Game ON!” I doubt either of them suspected that at my age, I could still run them down and return the favor, but run them down I did, the children chasing right behind me.  In the end, we were all wet from head to toe, which produced the quote of the day. As we were deciding whether to return to the hotel or wait for the next van, Valerie said, “I have to go now. I have swamp-britches!”

My function while here is often different from the roles of others, and often separates me from them during the course of the day. So I end up blogging at night about things I know, and all I really know are my own experiences during the day, my responses to situations, etc. So my blog seems to be (and sometimes is) all about me. But I am not on this trip alone, I am here with Team Uganda. So I have determined to focus a little each evening on other team members.

Tonight let me focus on some who have already gone. Greg, Debbie and Alissa Chambers were here for the first few days of the trip. Debbie is a physician, Greg a Physician Assistant, and Alissa a teacher. Before moving from PA to SC, Greg was a board member of Heart for Uganda. I loved watching what happened to him when we arrived in Kyenjojo. African record-keeping, whether it be medical records or accounting records, is…well, let’s just say it’s more lax than US standards. And for people like Greg (and I am people like Greg) that can drive us up a wall. I know that has been of concern to Greg. He wants patients treated well, and that means better medical records. He wants complete transparency in ministry, and that means better financial records. And so looking at numbers, looking at systems, looking at all the things we can look at in the US, the ministry here seems chaotic. And sometimes it really is. But when we pulled up on the children’s land; when we saw the dormitory; when we saw other buildings in progress; when we saw 41 happy and healthy children welcome us with song; when we saw patients receiving the best medical care available in this area; I also saw something else. I saw Greg’s heart turn to putty. He still wants better records, I’m sure. I do. But tucked away in the US, removed from what is really going on here, it’s easy to forget what this is all about. It’s not about numbers and charts, but about children, about transforming lives, and through those transformed lives, transforming a region.

Now let me tell you something that I love about Africa. The people here are much more open when they hear the good news about Jesus. Many come to receive prayer as part of their medical treatment. I spend a few minutes with each one. And I always tell them that while healing for our bodies is important, healing for our souls is even more important because our bodies live a short time but our souls live forever. And I ask them if they have put their trust in Jesus to forgive their sins and grant them eternal life. Most respond affirmatively, some very enthusiastically. But four times today the person responded negatively. Three of them gave a classically African answer—not “no,” but rather “not yet.” And when they respond that way, I simply ask if they are ready to commit their lives to the Lord. All three said “yes,” and I prayed with them to receive the Lord.

One young man replied that he was not yet ready. I asked what hindered him. He said, sincerely and humbly, “I do not understand the ways of God. I see so much hurt and suffering. I see greed. I see injustice. I do not understand why God allows this.” That led to a much longer conversation. I said that I did not understand the ways of God, either. His thoughts are not our thoughts, his ways are not our ways. But I knew the Biblical account that God had created everything good, including humans. That we had rebelled against Him and chosen our own way. That we, not God, had introduced pain and suffering and greed and injustice into the world. And so really he was not saying that he did not understand the ways of God, but that he did not understand the ways of man. For all these maladies cannot be blamed on God when it is us who does them. He nodded, as if he had never considered it this way. He promised to give it more thought. And so I prayed that he would be well in his body, and that God would guide his thoughts as he considered his need for salvation.

And lastl, but not least, I want to say how much I love my daughter Hope Marie. Today is her 18th birthday. On such a special day, she is unselfishly sharing her father with children halfway around the world. May her heavenly Father reward her for her sacrifice. Marie, I love you more than life itself. I always will. Don’t you ever forget that. And I am SO proud of you. You have grown into a beautiful young lady who, instead of struggling in school, is threatening to take me for a $20 bonus for straight A’s. I’m as proud of you as a father can be. You ROCK! Remember, I am your ever-loving Daddy. You are moving toward adulthood, but you will never be so old that you aren’t my daughter. I am sorry I missed the actual day, but have a special treat planned when I return. Happy birthday, Sweetheart.

They have a separate church for children. I would estimate that there were 100 in attendance. We were asked to pray for the children while there. I think every child came forward for prayer. I had a different experience than anything before in my life. Since the children do not speak English, I could not ask why they had come forward, how they wished me to pray for them, etc. I simply had to rely on God’s Spirit to help me pray for each child. And I believe I experienced very definitive promptings as I prayed. I found myself praying for matters that would normally never occur to me. As we sat at supper, Kaye Pattillo began to describe the exact same experience.

We also had time this afternoon to spend with those children we sponsor. I got to meet with the child our family sponsors, Kabajungu Immaculate, as well as her little sister, Kajumba Topista, sponsored by a dear lady in our church. We brought them special gifts, including lots of clothes donated by my daughters. It was very meaningful to me to see these beautiful girls wearing clothes that I associate with my own children. It brought home the reality that, in some mystical and unusual way, these are my children, too.

I have to say, though, that all of the activities of the day—spending time in worship and being with the children—made me a more than little homesick. I missed my own church. And much more, I missed my family. I am grateful that they would share me with others for a few days, and I appreciate that it is as much a sacrifice for them as for me. Father, watch over them in my absence.

Our guide, Peter Ben, told us we were extremely blessed to see two male lions. Normally, only the females are spotted. The females travel in a pride and hunt. When they have made a kill, the male comes along and eats his fill (hence the phrase “the lion’s share), and then leaves the remainder for the rest to share. We watched two different males for a considerable time. Both were resting, which Peter said is their normal activity. I think my favorite scene was watching one lion yawn and stretch as though he were late for a serious nap.

I also enjoyed seeing the national bird, the great crowned crane (or crested crane). Previously, I had poked fun at the image on the Ugandan flag, referring to “the big chicken.” In real life, however, they are extraordinarily beautiful and impressive, even majestic.

The trek to and from the park was long (some 3½ hours). We arrived back at the hotel around eleven. Having eaten a large and late lunch, no one was really hungry. We simply went to bed. If others were like me, they hardly remember their heads hitting the pillow.

Then it was off to work. I spent the first half of the day painting the new school building. Bear in mind that it is made of rough-hewn lumber, and to an American it looks much more like a stable than a school. But we were to paint it a beautiful Caribbean blue (as Kaye says, “They aren’t afraid of a little color, and doesn’t it make you feel happy!”). So, the paint was poured into regular trays, and Mr. Bob and I were each handed a brush. Not a paintbrush, really, but the kind of brush used to apply wallpaper paste. At first, I thought this was just making use of what was available, but I came to realize that this brush was better for slathering paint on the rough surface of the wood. A finer brush would never have worked.

After lunch, we said farewell to the Chambers. I’m not sure who was sadder, they or the remaining team. One person said, “This is so strange. We’ve only been here a few days, but this feels like saying good-bye to family.”

Then it was off to our respective afternoon assignments. I was supposed to work in the dormitory with the children, but transportation did not work out right. That’s the kind of thing that happens here in Uganda, thus the need for flexibility. So instead, I went with Belinda, Kirsten, Valerie and Kaye to distribute shoes to needy children in some fairly remote villages. It was both jpyous and heart-wrenching to see children receive what I feel certain were their first shoes ever. And I was a little surprised to note that even though Ugandan children were small by American standards, their feet were larger and even thicker due to constantly navigating rough terrain in bare feet.

Then came the rocks.

On our way back to the hotel, we stopped at a site where boulders jut out of the ground. These monoliths are stunning just by virtue of their uniqueness, like miniature Stone Mountains. But that’s not the end of the story. On these 22 rocks are painted the names of 24 Ugandans who were martyred for their faith in Jesus Christ. Some contained additional information. I noted that the youngest died at age 18. One death was recorded in 1886, one in 1964. Some of the stones contained brief epitaphs, like “Loved the Poor” or “An Exemplary Catechist.” Then I saw the most moving epitaph of all. Near the end of the trip around the rocks, I saw these words: “Eschatologically Happy Assembly.” Well, I began the day with a tear, and I ended on the same note. And I have never felt more connected to my brothers and sisters in this wonderful land.

And I was also wrong to say that the mischief of the four ladies who signed me up to help build a mud hut would not be rewarded. That is exactly where I wound up. Bob and I helped tie in long reeds (like bamboo but more flexible), then mudded one side of the house (and at least as much of our bodies). You know, it was fun. And I have to say I am impressed by the system. Primitive I know, but how many of us could build a house out of the raw materials in our front yard?

After lunch (and a desperately needed and almost deserved shower) I went to the medical clinic with Greg and Debby Chambers. While they dealt with administrative kinds of issues, I actually got to view malaria through a microscope, then visit and pray with a mother who delivered at 10 last night. I felt honored to be allowed into that moment for no reason other than being a pastor. Which reminds me, the sign n the lab said, Lab Pastor.” Since I’ve seen malaria, I claimed that as my new title.

Alissa Chambers is feeling much better. Still not 100%, but I believe our presence and our prayers have had a therapeutic effect.

Kaye Pattillo helped teach children. Those who saw her commented how gifted she is. However, they also think it’s funny that Ugandan children can now count to “ayyyyt.”

Others worked with the children in the Palace of Treasures. I played with them for an hour or so, playing games that I have played with my own children but which apparently are unknown here. We laughed riotously the whole time.

And still others distributed shoes to children. They were so excited when they returned.

I am out of battery, and I have no adapter for my computer to use electric here. Will close by simply saying we are all well, happy to be here, happy to be used by God.