Because my heart belongs to Uganda...

Karis' photoshoot

2011-01-20T22:27:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I got to take pictures of sweet Karis. I have a couple more posted over on my photoblog (http://storiesfrombehindthelens.blogspot.com/). It was such a joy to spend the day with this beautiful little baby who was so very tolerant of all my poking and prodding. More pictures to come....

2011-01-17T04:04:00.000-08:00

Eric left Uganda last night, so I'm on my own now. I have to say, it was hard to see him go, but it's only a week before I return. Praying right now for new adventures while I'm here and for things to do besides be at the kids home.

I got to visit the lovely Karis yesterday and finally got to hold her. Planning a photo shoot with the Boone family and one for baby Karis this week. I'm excited to have a chance to photograph them all and to get to do what I love (I haven't done much picture taking this trip and my camera is starting to collect dust).

Mores stories and pictures when I return.

Karis has arrived....

2011-01-15T01:27:00.000-08:00

Welcome to Karis Annaleigh Boone. Born yesterday at 10:32am in Kampala, Uganda. Sweet Tamara labored for 36 hours, pushed for 5, and was a champ the whole time. So thankful to have been here to see this sweet baby coming into the world. Pictures to come later.

P.S. I would like to make known that I was the only person who said it would be a girl. :)

Finally Here

2011-01-09T22:56:00.000-08:00

We've finally arrived in Uganda. It was a long awaited trip and I have to admit has not quite been what I expected. I'm happy to be here, but I've discovered that the adventure of living with a house full of kids is no longer fun. Eric and I are both staying at a children's home for kids with HIV. I love these kids and it's great to see them again, but they are exhausting.

We're still awaiting the phone call that tells us it's time to go to hospital for Tamara's baby to be born. Everytime our phone rings we both grab it in hopes that it's time. Not yet though. It's been fantastic getting to see Tamara and Jeremy again and we've loved getting to spend time with them.

Jeremy brought us out to Masese the other day, which, as usual, is a crazy and hard place to be, but I was glad to be there. More on that later though.

Well, that's all for now as I'm paying to use the internet.

2010-12-26T22:16:00.000-08:00

Our departure date is creeping closer. Eric has been injected with several live organisms in an attempt to prevent disease, the malaria medications have been retrieved from the pharmacy, the mosquito net from home has been sent, and several "to do" lists have been written (and lost). We leave in 9 days, which is a little hard to believe right now. I am totally unprepared to go right now, which I'm OK with seeing as this is my 3rd time, but I'm trying to figure out when exactly I will manage to get everything done between work and sleeping, which seem to take up far too much time. I don't even have a suitcase! Somehow I will manage though. So wish us luck as we prepare for our journey.

I though a few refresher photos were in order... just in case your forgot the amazing country of Uganda.

Time to return

2010-12-13T02:53:00.000-08:00

It's been over a year since I was in Uganda and my heart had been longing to go back. It's been months of pleading with my boss to pin down a time when I could taken some time off and after going back and forth between different dates and different month she settled on the origional dates I requested 5 months ago. Go figure. I bought my ticket yesterday (actually, 2 tickets, because I'm bringing my boy with me!) which leaves me exactly 24 days to prepare for this trip. Luckily by your 3rd time there's a lot less to do. I'm already immune to typhoid, yellow fever, Hep A & B, and several others. I can simply renew my malaria meds. My passport is ready. I don't really need to worry about packing (except to dig out the summer clothes that have taken residence under my bed since it's 20 degrees and snowing in Chicago). I'm really not concerned about about where we're staying, because I know half the mzungus in town. The the 24 days doesn't really sound all the bad. Eric, on the other hand, doesn't quite feel that way, which is understandable since he is not immune to all African diseases and is lacking in social contacts. But that won't be true for long.

My main obstacle is trying to figure out if it's possible to transport a ginormous baby warmer with me. My hospital is donating one, but this thing is like twice my size, so that's something to work on. Any ideas anyone?

I've got a box full of random medical supplies that we've collected from the hospital. Lucky for me, we're a very wasteful place. If you open something and then don't use it you have to toss it. If you drop something you can't use it. So I've rounded people up to collect those unsuable supplies and dump them in a box in the corner, which means Jinja gets some very useful things. Especially those that are going to have a baby, seeing as I work in labor and delivery and most of our stuff revolves around babies.

The main event this time is actually going to be a baby, assuming the kid decides to wait until I arrive. My sweet friend Tamara is due to have her baby in January and if things go as planned I will be there for the delivery, though I know babies don't often follow our plans. But either way, I'll get to meet this sweet baby and that is good enough for me.

So, I guess you probably already figured it out, but I'm back on this blog for a while. I shall do my best to keep you updated on the happenings surrounding this trip and will, as always, keep you entertained with the exciting stories of my adventures.

2010-12-12T23:58:00.001-08:00

And back I go... january 5-22nd!

2010-08-20T10:52:00.000-07:00

$1300 for a plane ticket to Uganda. Would it be too crazy to quit my job and go?

A breaking heart

2010-07-26T18:55:00.000-07:00

I know that I haven't been on here in a while, but I haven't been able to bring myself to write about Uganda. My heart has been aching for this place and for these people. I'm stuck in this place of waiting. I don't want to be here in this job, in this place.

Every day I go to work and I listen to nurses complain and doctors yell and my heart breaks. I wish that I could take them to this place that would turn their world upside down. I wish that they could see that the miracle of a healthy baby is enough to make this job worth it. I think of baby Lokute and how hard he fought for life and I just want to scream that it doesn't matter that they had to wait 5 minutes extra to start their surgery. There are kids dying all over the world and all these people care about are the delay in their surgery and kills me. Every day my heart breaks a little more and aches just a little more for Uganda.

The first diaper...

2010-04-02T16:57:00.000-07:00

The Preemie Project's first diaper has been made!!

Now that you know it can be done... get sewing! (see a few posts below for patterns and let me know if you need help... the sewer of this diaper has offered to assist people if necessary)

Now that I have seen...

2010-03-29T22:37:00.000-07:00

Now that I have seen, I am responsible.

Last night I lay in my bed, mind racing, the faces of the Ugandan people flashing in front of me. I can hear their laughs, their cries, their songs. I wish that I had the words to tell you what it feels like. I wish that I could make you feel it to. Because if you knew, you would never question why. You would never look at their pictures and then walk away. You would never pass by an opportunity. You would never tell me to stay here.

Now that I have seen, I am responsible.

Do you really want to see or would you rather just pass them by without taking a second glance? Because that's what most people do. They'd rather not see, because then they too would be responsible. But what is our faith worth if we deliberately choose not to see? If we walk by and pretend we didn't know? Does that really make it easier? I wish I could make you understand, that if you saw, I mean really saw, then you wouldn't want to look away again.

Now that I have seen, I am responsible.

They are standing right in front of you. I have carried them back with me and I have shown you. When you look at me, you are also seeing them, because they are part of me. I have held these sweet souls in my arms. I have seen them die because they didn't have the things they needed to live. I hold their hopes and dreams for the future in my heart. I have seen and thus I am responsible....

Now that you have seen, You are responsible

(scroll to the very bottom of the page and click on the song "Alberdine" on the playlist and read along as you listen)

I am sitting still
I think of Angelique
her mothers voice over me
And the bullets in the wall where it fell silent
And on a thosandth hill, I think of Albertine
there in her eyes what I don't see with my own
rwanda

now that I have seen, I am responsible
Faith without deeds is dead
now that I have held you in my own arms, I cannot let go till you are

I am on a plane across a distant sea
But I carry you in me
and the dust on, the dust on, the dust on my feet
Rwanda

I will tell the world, I will tell them where I've been
I will keep my word
I will tell them Albertine
I am on a stage, a thousand eyes on me

I will tell them, Albertine
I will tell them, Albertine

To Diana, Aisha, Cathy, Laticia, Doreen, Angelina, Benjamin, Pious, Daisy, Gloria, Gift, Matthew, Nicole, Ditte, Aligaya, Becca, Daphine, Esther, Fatuma, Getu, Elijah, Losira, Lydia, Rachael, Joshua, Sharon, Freda, Ruth, Lokute. I will tell them.

2010-03-25T08:59:00.000-07:00

Watch the video from the "Stories from Uganda" night- a new version will be posted soon with more information on how to get involved, but for now, enjoy!

Hello again...

2010-03-23T15:08:00.000-07:00

Well, it seems that it's been quite a while since I've posted anything on here. But today we have internet at our house, so finally I am back.

Wanted to give an update on the Nets Not Caskets project...
Total to date: $900! (though thanks to the kids at SACC there's even more, I just have to count it)

Keep a watch out for more information on Uganda Movie Night! (tentative date: March 23)

On another note, I interviewed in Chicago last week for a labor and delivery position.

The Preemie Project: Patterns

2010-03-02T11:24:00.000-08:00

So you're good with a sewing machine? Then thread your bobbins, measure your fabric, and get stitching... Here are your diapers patterns...

http://littlecomettails.kingstondesign.com/tightywhiteyhipsters.pdf
http://fernandfaerie.com/frugaldiapering.html -- this has a bunch of variations. Choose your favorite (but please stay away from ones that involved using safety pins (velcro is better).
http://mayna.livejournal.com/198548.html - cool pattern for the slightly more advanced sewer
http://www.zany-zebra.com/free-cloth-diaper-patterns.shtml - this has a whole big selection of patterns. choose your favorite.

A few specifications...
- Diapers should be made in preemie and newborn sizes. Feel free to alter patterns to make them to fit the littlest babes (below is a picture of Lokute to remind you just how small their little bottoms can be).
- Please use velcro or snaps... no pins.
- If you can include soakers, that would be great. They can be made out of old towels OR get an only wool coat or sweater, wash it, then run it through the dryer to shrink it down and cut to fit your diaper.
- Let me know if you need any fabrics (remember... old shirts/sweaters can be used too. Be creative!)
- Diapers can be brought to PCC and deposited in the box in the back.

THANK YOU ALL FOR PARTICIPATING IN THE PREEMIE PROJECT!!

Note the very tiny bottom!

Missing you.

2010-03-02T10:59:00.000-08:00

There are some days where there just are no words for what it feels like to be away from Uganda... today is one of those days.

Nets Not Caskets

2010-02-24T13:25:00.000-08:00

This is my friends Tamara and Jeremy's latest blog (it relates to the Nets Not Caskets)....

"We keep a receipt as a bookmark in our Bible to remind us of Peter. It’s for the cost of his casket.
Peter was a young man, maybe 25, who worked in the furnace of the local steel plant. It’s a tough and dangerous job. His body evidenced this fact, pock-marked with bloated scars where molten steel had exploded onto his skin. And he was as strong as an ox. All those days working the mill gave him rock solid arms. We remember them well because we had to wrestle with him for hours. Out of the church, into the van, across town, through the clinic, strapping him to a ‘hospital’ bed. Then again we wrestled so nurses could test his blood, administer his IV and other medications. Peter didn’t know we were trying to help so he fought against us. In his mind we had bewitched him.
The night before, Peter had stumbled to church from the factory where he slept outside, on the ground, exposed to the elements. He came for healing. By then he was really sick. Sick enough to die. And that’s how we found him. He was face down on the church alter, writhing in pain, sweat pouring from his brow, eyes bulging, legs paralyzed, his saliva making a paste of the dirt floor underneath him. He spoke to people who weren’t in the room, and spit on those who were. It was a terrible scene, like out of a fiction book. Having never seen anything like it we found ourselves asking, “Is this man possessed?”. Our friends replied,“We’ve been praying for him all night. He became calm and then the demon’s once again entered his head”. We knelt around him and prayed again but the chaos of his condition persisted. We assured them that God was big enough to set the man free with a single, humble prayer. Suggesting the problem was physical, we made our way to the clinic.
Not even the tranquilizers could calm Peter from the effects of cerebral malaria. But the convoluted outbursts filled with fear and anger mellowed before nightfall. We thought we’d turned the corner and sighed relief. Peter began to speak with us coherently and, for a brief moment, we began to see the young man beneath the madness of this cruel disease. He was scared, he was thankful and he wanted to live. Tragically, this was the calm before the storm. By sunrise Peter had died. “Maybe it was an aneurism or he aspirated on his own vomit” the doctor said. Either way, there was a dead body and we were responsible. We searched until we found his sister and a few friends. Together, the few of us tied his body properly, bought him a casket, loaded him into a pickup truck and returned his body to the church where he’d come for help the day before.

The slum was electric with curiosity about Peter and the church who’d fought for his life. They stopped in to take a peek at his body, mourn and thank members of the church for giving him a respectable end. That’s a lot more than people typically get in Masese Slum. Often, with no money for caskets and no land, families don’t know what to do with the bodies.
But can’t we do better than this? Better than a respectable end? Better than caskets?

We think so. We know so. That’s why we keep Peter’s receipt. To remind us, not only that we can do better, but that we are called by Christ to do better. According to Philippians 1:10, the love of Christ ‘approves the things that are excellent’. Likewise, the love of Christ disapproves of things that aren’t excellent. Plain and simple, love disapproves of merely buying caskets for those who’ve died when there’s a more excellent way.

Of course, we all want to ACT NOW. But it’s important to note that the answer isn’t plain and simple and that our action must be more than just passionate. The same passage in Philippians tells us that love is filled with ‘true knowledge’ and ‘all discernment’. Our response must be girded with wisdom if it’s going to be loving. A loving response takes the time to understand and find the most excellent way.

There’s a more excellent way than white people buying 1,500 mosquito nets, giving them away and leaving. The people who live in Masese Slum wouldn’t see their value, they’d sell them for food, they may not even know how to use them and we’d miss out on bigger opportunities to effect sustainable change. To do this right people need awareness of the issue, ownership of the solution, training and follow-up to give them the best chance of malaria prevention long-term. And this project could be the right platform for the church to begin doing what it was intended to do. While it’s certain to be a drawn out, messy process, every step of the way is an opportunity to engage the people of Masese with the message of Christ’s excellent love.
Peter came to the church for healing...now is the time for the church to take healing to Peter."

Don't forget to come on Sunday evening... this is what you'll be supporting.

The Preemie Project

2010-02-17T11:06:00.000-08:00

How would you feel if your 2 lb baby was being heated over a charcoal stove or wrapped in a urine soaked blanket? This is the reality of life for premature babies in Uganda. I'm guessing that most of you know instictively that the smoke from a fire would not be good for immature lungs and that lying in one's own filth does not promote a health immune system. Now stop and think about why you know that.

Figure it out yet?

It's because you're educated. Because you grew up in a world where those kinds of things are basic knowledge, where you could flip on TLC and watch a show about babies or see something on the news about new medical technology.

Now here's the shocker... they don't know that in Uganda. Why? Because nobody ever told them!

The Preemie Project is seeking to provide a few basic things to one small community to help them care for the premature babies in their village and to equipt the people there with the education to teach the villagers these simple facts and save the lives of babies like Lokute.

There are 2 things that you can do for the Preemie Project...

1. Buy a hot water bottle

2. Make a cloth diaper

For patterns, go to this site: http://www.zany-zebra.com/free-cloth-diaper-patterns.shtml

My favorite is the first link with a pattern for a cloth diaper made out of recycled shirts. So get out your sewing machine and start stiching. It's OK if it's not the most attractive diaper... the babies won't mind.

And don't forget... Feb. 28 @ 7:30 pm. PCC Fireside Room.

Be there!

Stories From Uganda - The Event

2010-02-16T11:47:00.000-08:00

So, I mentioned before that I was working on something. Well, here's part of it. After talking to Tamara, I was informed that the biggest project they're working on in Masesee right now is providing mosquito nets for the entire village, that's 1,500 people.

Here's what you can do:
1. Visit these two links: Stories from Uganda Event and Boones in Africa
2. Come to the event on Feb. 28 (info below)
3. Donate $ - via PCC (make sure it says Uganda in the byline) or directly through the Boone's website (make sure that it goes to Tamara and Jeremy Boone for Nets Not Caskets)
4. Get involved in the Preemie Project - Go to this link for diaper patterns (More on this project coming soom)
5. Spread the Word!! You can share this blog by posting this link: http://disguisedflower.blogspot.com/2010/02/stories-from-uganda.html or the Event page by posting this one: http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=311788967047 Please post these to your own blogs, e-mail them out (especially to PCC people), tell your friends!
6. Pray!

Stories from Uganda

Feb. 28, 2010
7:30 pm
Fireside Room @PCC
3560 Farm Hill Blvd., RWC
Come and hear stories, see pictures and videos, and learn about how you can help to supply an entire community with mosquito nets and provide basic teaching and supplies to care for premature babies. And have some cookies!
*Even if you can't come, please come visit the table in the back of church after any of the services... there will be information and ways to get involved. And please PASS THIS ON, especially those of you from PCC! AND... visit http://www.boonesinafrica.com if you'd like to donate anyway... just be sure it goes to Jeremy and Tamara Boone for Nets Not Caskets.*

Goal 1: I'm asking God for something big, something really big! $9,000. $9,000 will purchase 1,500 treated mosquito nets, providing every resident of Masese III with protection from Malaria.
http://www.boonesinafrica.com/ (click on the link: Nets Not Caskets)

Goal 2: The Preemie Project - Provide the basic supplies that will allow premature babies in Masese to be cared for and cloth diapers to promote hygiene.
- Needs: Hot water bottles, reflective emergency blankets, preemie cloth diapers (patterns available)

Most of you know that I have traveled to Uganda twice in the past 2 years. During this most recent trip I got involved in a slum called Masese III (read below for a brief history of this place). While I was there I there I was introduced to a fantastic couple who are working in Masese, trying to provide the people there with sustainable changes that will radically change the way they live.

Upon my return I decided that even though I can't physically be there, I can still help to change this community. And so I am inviting you to come listen, to hear the stories of these people.

A Brief History of Masese (from www.boonesinafrica.com):

Just outside of Jinja, Uganda, there’s a hill. On one side you’ll find Jinja’s land-field. On the other, a slum called Masese III. The stunning view of Lake Victoria and the bustle of town nearly cause you to forget where you are at times. This place has earned a reputation as the shame of Jinja. Masese Slum is the home of around 2,000 men, women and children - mostly Karimojong. 50 years ago, Karimojong families fled to this area in the Southern part of Uganda to escape war and famine. Many imagined a life near the prospering town of Jinja. But over the years, the refugee camp that offered a ray of hope became an urban slum filled with hopelessness. Masese Slum holds the worst of village and city life and the combination is deadly. Unthinkable poverty, hunger, tropical disease, inadequate health care, and lack of infrastructure combine with population density, unemployment, landlessness, every kind of communicable diseases (AIDS, etc) as well as rampant alcohol addiction and prostitution. Because there’s no land, few can farm to feed themselves. The majority depend on brewing alcohol, and picking trash from the land-field and local rubbish bins. Diseases like cerebral malaria often leave people brain damaged or dead, yet hardly anyone has much needed mosquito nets much less the money to pay for proper care. Very few latrines means a majority of the people leave their waste laying in public areas. Children are covered in sores, worms, funguses and severely infected wounds. Not too many years ago, the rainy seasons came and a cholera outbreak killed dozens.

Travels with Monica: The Conclusion

2010-02-12T10:21:00.000-08:00

And then, we reached the end of the road. The final two to wheel through the doors to be greeted by our moms.

A sweet reunion.

And a smile.

And a good-bye.

Travels with Monica: Part 5

2010-02-11T17:45:00.000-08:00

One thinks that when you get off the plane the journey is over, that the exhaustion will end, that the crying will cease, that you will stroll down the aisle to be met by the freedom of handing your temperamental two year old over to her mother.

It's a lie.

We were the last people to get off the plane because trying to collect all of our things and set up the stroller was harder than it looked. I had to wake Monica to put her in the stroller so we could wheel our way to freedom and by the recommendation of a flight attendant, we backed off the plane (apparently you get caught on less things that way). Of course, this caused an uproar because Monica had to look at said flight attendant who followed us off. We also lost a wheel half way down the aisle. That's what I get for buying a cheap stroller: One that periodically loses its wheels.

We finally reached solid ground. Smooth sailing from here, I thought. Until we hit the line. Yes, the customs line that wrapped itself around the room a million times and all the way down the sterile hallway where we placed ourselves at the very, very end. I'm pretty sure there were at least 500 people in front of us and that is not an exaggeration. 500 people, and then me, the one with the screaming child. We were out of food. All airplane food had been rejected. The sandwiches were thrown aside. The granola bar evoked louder screams. There was nothing left.

Thank God for the first kind soul I'd met on my entire journey. The woman in line in front of me was traveling alone with 2 kids and kindly pulled out some alphabet cookies, which miraculously soothed my screaming child.

It was about 20 minutes later when we finally made it into the actual room where customs was and that is when I saw the small line off to the side marked "immigration." It hadn't occurred to me before that this child was immigrating into the U.S. My dear friend in front of me offered to hold my place in line while I went to investigate. The flight attendants in the line next to immigration looked apologetically at me as I wheeled myself to the front to inquire about where exactly I was supposed to be.

The man I asked quickly shuffled me forward, taking my paperwork and asking me questions. Freedom at last! Someone was finally going to give me a break. I was going to the front of the line! Take that 500 people who don't have screaming children! I'm going first!

Then he handed me back my papers. I've put you in the system, now go back to the end of the line.

What!?!? Are you kidding me? Please say this is some cruel joke.

No. It wasn't. Back to the end of the immigration line I went, walking past the flight attendants who questioned me as to why I was returning (You see, they were on my side. They thought I should get to go first too). So there we stood, at the back of the line once again. The screaming had died down... temporarily. But soon they started up again.
Fine. Cry as loud as you want. If you want to scream a little louder, that's fine with me too. Come on, let them hear you Monica. If they're going to make my pour, exhausted, hungry child wait, they'll at least have to listen to her scream.

I was hoping that our little melt down would get us bumped forward, if only for the sake of shutting us up. Then another lady with a cracker showed up. I was slightly less thankful this time because the cracker caused quietness, which completely ruined our chance of getting to the front of the line.

So there we stood for another hour while all 500 people passed through and the 20 of us in the immigration stood, waiting. After a while I whipped out my phone and turned on some music. I figured if we all had to wait, we might as well have something nice to listen to. The music played and the line dwindled, and finally it was our turn. The last of the last. I once again pulled out our stack of papers and presented them to the far too chatty man at the desk who insisted on telling me of his cousin's story of adoption and discussing Monica's future. How I kept from grabbing him by the throat and yelling that he had better hurry up so I could go home and sleep, I don't know.

But we made it through. We had a U.S. visa in hand and only one last obstacle to tackle. Baggage claim. Once again it was me, a child, a stroller, and a cart full of luggage, struggling through our final steps of the journey until....

(to be continued)

Travels with Monica: Part 4

2010-02-09T18:14:00.000-08:00

We shuffled down the aisle to the back of the overcrowded plane where we took our seats in a 2-seat row. Monica began howling moments after we sat down... she was both starving and exhausted. There was no quick fix for this one though. We had run out of our stash of food and thus had to wait until the plane food was served, of course this takes ages because we had to wait until we had safely been in the air for at least a good hour. And remember, we were at the very back of the plane, which meant we got served last.

The exhausted and frustrated cries of my 2 year old were heard loud and clear by all of those around us. Thank goodness for the girl sitting across the aisle who was able to entertain Monica for at least a little while, because there was nothing I could do to pacify her at this point.

At last our food came. Feeding a 2 year old Uganda child is a lot harder than I had ever guessed though and finding suitable foods on the tray was a challenge and was met with more screams as each offer was rejected. I think she finally settled on some strawberry yogurt and a roll. (P.S. Jody... Monica might have a slight allergy to strawberries because after that she started compulsively scratching herself and rubbing her nose) I of course felt a sudden panic, thinking that she was going to go into anaphylactic shock right there on the plane. Thank goodness I had some Benadryl just in case. Did I mention how handy that sleep-inducing drug was?
When the food was finished and I was finally ready to get Monica to sleep (a good 2+ hours into the flight) the flight attendants disappeared and we were stuck with her tray, making it impossible for me to get her comfortable in her seat. After hitting the call button and nearly screaming for someone to come and help me, I finally collected all of our things and trudged down the aisle to hand them over.

Then the challenge of sleep began. I've picked up a few techniques for getting kids to sleep over the years so I implemented my favorite. My friend Genevive calls it "beating the baby to sleep" because it involves laying the baby on their tummy and patting their bottom in a somewhat aggressive way. Works like a charm... usually. Of course, Monica made it more difficult and fought me every step of the way. So there I was, pinning her to the seat, patting her bum, and pushing her head back down every time she tried to sit up. I'm sure it looked terrible, but I'm telling you, best sleep technique I've ever learned. Eventually she fell asleep, stretched out across her seat and about 70% of mine. For fear of lights waking her up I created a tent out of blankets that stretched from the top of the seat and into the tray and then over to my seat.
Of course, this left me precariously balanced on the edge of my seat, at the point of absolute exhaustion (having now not slept for 2 days) but unable to sleep due to my lack of space. At one point I nearly climbed down to the floor to sleep, but figured I'd get yelled at for not having my seat belt on. I tried to lean my seat back a little bit but got cursed out by the guy behind me for the inch I'd moved it. I should have punched him. Instead I sunk down into my seat to endure the miserable 8 hours left before we landed.

The story of this flight continues very much the same as the paragraph above and consisted of me trying to find a comfortable position for 8 hours while not waking the sleeping child next to me.

Our trip was not over though. We still have to make it off the plane and through Immigration.

(to be continued...)

Travels with Monica: Part 3

2010-02-05T13:05:00.000-08:00

And so the story continues, because remember, we are only just arriving in London and there are a long 18 hours to go. When we got to London it was cold. We had to walk off the plane onto the ground, which is no fun when you're toting a child, an unopened stroller, and 2 bags. I'm lucky we didn't face plant on the way down the stairs. Out into the icy air we went... Monica's first taste of a true winter.

Upon walking into the airport they were checking passports, which of course means we got stopped. I informed the security guard that he was going to have to let me get Monica settled into her stroller before I could show him our papers. The second Monica's toes brushed the stroller, the screaming began. Top of the lungs, piercing screams. I'm sure everyone there was thinking I must have kidnapped this child or something.

So there i stood, rummaging through our extremely small backpack trying to find the papers I needed while she shrieked. (And remember, I was running on NO sleep) As I handed over the papers, it became clear to me that nobody in the airports know what to do with adoption. The papers went from person to person. Confused looks promptly appeared. Glances were exchanged and then they would shuffle off out of ear shot to try and figure out what to do. Eventually they would give up trying to understand and send us on our way.

So off we went, the screaming echoing through the halls, to spend the next 8 hours wandering Terminal 5 of the London airport. Monica became more adventurous and would wander around beside me as we waited in the security line (if you remember that same security line caused me to miss my flight to France). We made a few laps around the place, investigating all the possible places to hang out and finally I settled on a seating area that had semi-comfortable chairs and finally got Monica down for a nap. She didn't sleep long and when she woke up, she was in a nasty mood.

We had pancakes for breakfast. But no blueberries! If I so much as suggested trying one, the screaming began again. And of course, as soon as I put her back in the stroller, she began to wail. So there we were, walking back and forth through the airport, Monica shrieking, and me on the verge of collapse. I wanted nothing more than for her to fall asleep in the stroller so I attempted to lean it back (it had an adjustable seat), but no matter how hard I tried, I could not get the stupid thing in place. At one point I had removed Monica from the stroller and proceeded to attempt beating the stroller into submission. Eventually it worked. But the change caused more screams.

The story continues like this for another 4 or 5 hours.

Once again I finally got her to sleep on a cozy chair. It was blissful for all of 15 minutes when our gate number finally appeared on the screen and we had to move to a different part of the airport. I attempted a gentle transfer back into the stroller in hopes of keeping her asleep until we got on the plane. But no such luck. We arrived at the gate crying (her, not me), swiftly boarded the plane, as I prepared myself for the true horrors of traveling with a 2 year old.

(to be continued....)

Travels with Monica: Part 2

2010-02-04T11:18:00.000-08:00

I left you with us having finally relaxed into our seats, ready to fly from Uganda to London. Luckily, that route is not particularly popular, as Uganda is not exactly a booming destination, and I was able to snag us an entire middle row to ourselves. As soon as I set Monica into her seat she tipped over and fell asleep. I was able to stretch out next to her across 4 seats, using my legs to keep her from rolling off the seat, and rest. I couldn't sleep because I was worried about her falling/waking up/crying/and a number of other possible scenarios. Thus, I remained awake for the entire day and all through the night (we left uganda at 12am and flew for 9 hours). Monica slept almost the entire way and woke up just 2 hours before we landed. She sat patiently in her seat watching cartoons and munching on some crackers. We got up to wander the plane a few times. It was completely uneventful. No tears. No whining. She was perfect.

'Man I have it lucky,' I thought. 'She is so good!'

Words that were spoken too soon!

(to be continued...)

Travels with Monica: Part 1

2010-02-02T12:01:00.000-08:00

Finally comes the story of Monica...

It was a week into my trip when I finally got a chance to check my e-mail, a rare joy in Uganda. There in my inbox was a message from Judy Kleis. There was a lady named Jody adopting Monica and she needed someone to fly back to the states with Monica. Judy thought of me.

The timing was perfect. Monica's papers would be done right around the time I was leaving (we ended up getting them the day before we left). After brief consideration, I decided there was no reason why I shouldn't bring Monica back with me, other than the obvious of course: she was 2 and we would have 30+ hours of travel!

I'll spare you all the details of what happened between me saying yes and our actual departure. The journey home is where the good stuff is.

The day we left was a sad one. I had to say good-bye to my all my kids who were spread out around Jinja. I had to say good-bye to my friends, both new and old. And then I had my final lunch at Amani with Judy, Andrea, Malia, and Monica. We sat on the clinic steps, much like we used to, while the mamas said their good-byes. And then off we went.

Me with Malia and Monica

The journey to the airport was over 3 hours, thanks to lots of traffic, and Monica clung to either me or Andrea until we finally got her to sleep. Then it was another 5 hours at the airport before our plan left. I wish I had a picture of the scene that ensued after our arrival at the airport. I had my two bags plus a big bag of Monica's, her backpack, my camera bag, the stroller, and her. After tying her to my back with a scarf I managed to load everything onto a push cart (thank goodness they had them!). I then immediately had to unload it all onto the x-ray machine, which you had to go through if you wanted to go to the waiting area, and then load it all back onto the cart. By this time, Monica was getting cranky and hadn't eaten dinner, so we went in search of food. Of course there was only one place to eat and it had a limited selection. We ended up with fruit, a samosa and a juice box. Half way through the meal I realized Monica couldn't drink with a straw. After brief consideration I decided that she probably would freak out if I walked away from the table, so I scooped her up to bring her to the counter with me. Big mistake. She thought I was taking her away from her food and thus the screaming began. This was not just a regular child's cry. This was top of the lungs screeching. We were already a spectacle enough, white girl/black baby, without the screaming. At this point everyone in the airport was staring at us.

Next came the waiting game. I arranged Monica on a bench and attempted to get her to sleep. Eventually, she passed out and I was able to rest next to her, which was difficult considering I was trying to keep her from falling off the bench at the same time as making sure none of our stuff got stolen. Eventually we were able to go through security so I carefully lifted Monica and put her in the small basket on our cart. I loaded everything onto the x-ray machine again, gently lifted Monica out of the basket to walk through the metal detector.

This is where things get real good. The security guard was apparently quite fascinated by us and obviously had no idea what to do with the fact that Monica was obviously not my child. The other guard started yelling at me to get my stuff off the belt as I stood there holding Monica. In that moment I got a glimpse of what it feels like to be an overwhelmed mother. I was pissed and i would have done anything in that moment to get what I wanted. I started barking orders at the guard, instructing him on how to open the stroller so I could put her down. He, of course, had no idea what to do and couldn't follow instructions to save him. And, to make matters worse, he was trying to ask me to marry him as he did all this. Had I not been holding a sleeping child, I think I would have socked him in the face.

Eventually all of our stuff was sorted out, I got Monica into the stroller (though she was now awake), and convinced the guard to walk me to the counter because I couldn't push both the luggage and the stroller. After what felt like hours at the counter, we finally made it through customs and into the waiting area, though we couldn't go to our gate yet, which meant sitting on a hard chair while Monica whined in her stroller (I discovered quickly that she doesn't sleep in a stroller).

Two hours later we got to go to our gate. When I got to the check in counter there, the lady tried to take our strolled and check it all the way to SFO. At this point, I was running on very little sleep, and here is this woman telling me I can't take my stroller! I kept trying to explain that strollers are usually put under the plane and returned upon the plane's landing, but she just was not getting it. "Look, I have to wait 8 hours in the London airport with a 2 year old. You are not taking my stroller away from me!" After she realized that there was no way I was handing over my stroller she agreed to let me talk to the flight crew before we left.

Exhausted, I lay Monica on the floor and collapsed next to her.

"Excuse me. I need to take your stroller now."

I jumped up, grabbing onto my stroller. "You are not taking this away from me!"

Once again the struggle began with a new person, where I once again explained that I would not be handing over my stroller.

Finally, we headed for the plane. Being a person traveling with a child, I got to go first. So off I went, Monica in one arm, camera bag, backpack, and stroller in the other. No one offered to help, of course. Standing in line I saw that the woman in front of me had a stroller too. I asked her if they were letting her keep it. She had the same story as me. When we arrived at the plane door, together with our strollers in a death grip, the flight crew tried to take them away.

At this point I was nearly in tears. "You cannot take my stroller!"

I guess the lady realized that if she took it, I might seriously have to hurt someone, and agreed to let me try and find a place for it. So there we were, me, Monica, and our stroller, sitting on a plane bound for London.

Me and the stroller (sewing on a patch)

(To be continued...)

Comments

2010-02-01T11:59:00.001-08:00

I know that a number of people have been unable to comment on my blog. I believe I have finally fixed the problem, so comment away! :) (I love to know people are actually reading this)

Photography

2010-01-28T13:31:00.000-08:00

This has nothing to do with Uganda, but since coming back I've had no luck in finding a nursing job, so in the meantime I'm starting up a small photography business. If anyone needs portraits taken, let me know!

Behind the Lens

Why Uganda?

2010-01-26T11:57:00.000-08:00

People ask me all the time, why Africa? Why Uganda? Why would you go so far to a place like that to help those people when you could do plenty of helpful things right here? This is what I want to tell you...

It's because I've met those people. Because I know those people. I know their stories. I've shared life with them. We've eaten meals together, We've run together. We've swam together. We've read books and drawn pictures. We've laughed. We've danced. They are part of me and I am part of them.

People always say that Africa gets in your blood. That once you've been, it changes you. They're right.

When I think about Uganda, I don't just think about a place. I see faces. I see these faces, and I can't walk away from them.

The reality of their world doesn't just go away because I do. Diana still wakes up every morning and has HIV. Lokute's mom still is without her son because there was nobody there to take care of him. And I can't live in my comfy house with my nice things and know their reality at the same time. The two cannot exist side by side.

As Jesus started on his way, a man ran up to him and fell on his knees before him. "Good teacher," he asked, "what must I do to inherit eternal life?" "Why do you call me good?" Jesus answered. "No one is good—except God alone. You know the commandments: 'Do not murder, do not commit adultery, do not steal, do not give false testimony, do not defraud, honor your father and mother.'" "Teacher," he declared, "all these I have kept since I was a boy." Jesus looked at him and loved him. "One thing you lack," he said. "Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me...."
"I tell you the truth," Jesus replied, "no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age (homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields—and with them, persecutions) and in the age to come, eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last first." -Matthew 10:17-21,29-30

Then and Now: Amani

2010-01-23T15:20:00.000-08:00

A year and a half ago I flew to Uganda, alone, to work at Amani Baby Cottage, an orphanage I knew little about. I spent 2 months there living with, caring for, and falling in love with these babies. Since then I have been able to visit 2 of the kids in America, share stories of their kids with families who have since adopted, brought one of the kids home to America, and been priveledged enough to get to see so many of my babies again. When I left last time I wasn't sure I'd be back in time to see the same kids again. But I did. And seeing how these kids have grown and changed and to be greeted by their smiling faces was worth the trip.

So here they are, then and now....

I would like you to meet my sweet Ugandan babies...

This is Benjamin. My sweet, cuddly Benja. Once one of my baby "B's," Benja has moved all the way up to the toddler house. Benjamin is waiting to go home to his forever family in Texas.

Meet Patrick. Last year I picked Patrick up from Watoto, a children's home in Kampala, to bring him to Amani. Patrick had been found, abandon, in a plastic bag. When they saw that he wasn't dead, they brought him to the athorities and in the end, he came to live at Amani. He is all smiles these days. Running up to me yelling, "Auntie, Auntie" in hopes of getting a snuggle.

Daniel, now known as "Fat Dan" came to Amani last year. In the first picture he was about 7 months old, but the size of a newborn. He is now king of the Baby B's.

Dan. He hasn't changed a bit.

My sweet Gift. She was my baby, my special one, the one I would have brought home with me if it was legal. She's now running and laughing and talking, and a little bit of a terror.

Mebra, twin of Isaac.

Isaac

Monica is the little girl I brought back to the states with me. What an adventure that was! But that's a story for another time.

Ditte was our sweet, shy, beautiful little girl. She was a skinny little runt before, but she's thriving now, and quite the little pudge!

Matthew was another one of my Baby B's who is now a toddler. And he hasn't changed a bit. He's still whiney and fussy, but I still love him dearly.

Jonah

Excerpt from Katie's Blog...

2010-01-22T13:02:00.000-08:00

Matthew 25 says... "Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'

Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'

The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'

Then he will say to those on his left, 'Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.'

They also will answer, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?' He will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for the least of these brother’s of mine, you did not do for me.’"

This is from my friend Katie's blog. I recommend you go and read it!.

I BELIEVE that when Jesus said, “I tell you the TRUTH,” He meant just that, that His words were true and He wasn’t kidding. YES, I believe that I am saved by faith through GRACE. Grace that is freely given and cannot be earned by anything I do. But I also believe that sometimes we rely so heavily on the Grace of God to cover our sins that we blatantly disobey His word and feel ok about it. “Depart from me you who are cursed into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.” THAT is what Jesus will say to those of us who do not care for the least of these. I believe this is true because I believe His word is true, EVERY word is true, plain and simple. That is a heavy, heartbreaking thought. How often have we neglected you, Lord?

The thing about Uganda is...

2010-01-19T12:43:00.000-08:00

It's ok to fall asleep wherever you want.

Hanging your socks on the wall is totally normal.

You can dance while you clean if you feel like it.

You're never to old to play in a box.

If you want to eat grasshoppers, eat grasshoppers.

If you want to be naked, that's OK too.

Come to the front for your wounds...

2010-01-15T11:39:00.000-08:00

As you know, after our night of staying up all night watching Lokute, we were due to teach our health class in Masese. When Tamara and Jeremy came to pick us up at the hospital, I was on the verge of collapse, sprawled across the floor nearly asleep. I dragged myself up from the floor and flung myself across the birthing table where a sadly dry muffin awaited me. After a short discussion on who would watch Lokute, we decided to text Emma to see if she could come.

"What hospital are we at again?" I asked Tamara.
"Al Shafa."
"Al what?"
"Al Shafa."
"How do you spell that?"
"A-l S-h-a-f-a."
"OK," I said as I attempted to type that into my phone.
"Wait, spell it again."
"Let me just do it for you," Tamara finally suggested reaching for my phone.

Exhausted. That is what I was.

After a quick trip home to take a shower we were on the road again, headed to Masese with a steaming cup of the most delicious coffee I've ever tasted. By the time we got there the caffeine was beginning to kick in and I was actually somewhat pleased to be greeted by the mob of children that had begun to climb the side of the car like monkeys.

Whenever going to Masese, my goal is to try and stay clean for as long as possible. Now, I know that cleanliness is not a reality in this place, but it's fun to see how long you can go. Of course, in my tiredness, this did not last long. Upon climbing out of the car, my leg slid along the outside and a huge streak of mud stretched out across my leg. There had also been a rainstorm the night before so the ground was covered in mud. The children walked about barefoot with inch think patties of mud caked to their feet that gave the appearance that they were wearing shoes.

About an hour after arriving we began our teaching session. I'll spare you all the details of this 5 hour lecture, but in a nutshell, we talked about hand washing, poop, worms, wounds, and malaria. I found out after 45 minutes of poop discussion that the village of Masese only has one latrine and hardly anyone uses it. There is very limited drinking water. The spout closest to the church charges a fee to retrieve clean water and it a village as poor as Masese, that's a hard fee to pay.

The lesson ended with wound care. Being the daughter of a teacher, I've picked up a few techniques over the years and knew that for people to really learn and the enjoy what they are learning, you have to have hands on teaching. Thus the creation of my fake wounds. A small container of blood made out of flour, water, and red dye and another container of pus made of foaming laundry soap, water, yellow dye, and a little dirt. We broke them up into groups of 4 and one by one they came up to receive their wounds then returned to their group where another member would have to treat the wound. This continued on for about and hour and a half while everyone got a turn to play each role. There were people running about with "blood" dripping down their faces and arms. Mangled fingers. I was running about yelling "Your patient is bleeding to death! Hurry!!" as these poor people tried to pick the right size gauze to use. It was, to say the least, hysterical. And probably even more so to me because I was so tired. But I have to say, I think that was the most fun I had the whole time I was in Uganda. (So thanks Tamara and Jeremy for asking us to teach that class!!)

We did treat one real wound as an example. It was that of a young boy that Jeremy had been telling us about. He had bumped into a stool or something about a year ago and hidden the small wound. Now, it's huge and infected and so far into the bone that he's probably going to need surgery to repair it. That right there is why we did this class. To try and prevent small little injuries from turning into huge, life-threatening ones. Because a little antiseptic and a band-aid and that boy would have been fine. Tamara and Jeremy have this great vision of being about to teach the people there how to care for each other so that they don't need people like Andrea and I to come in and treat their wounds. Instead, they will be able to help each other and in turn, preventing things so horrible you would never believe unless you'd been there to seem them.

The village of Masese has been blessed with some amazing people, both local and foreign, who are striving to make it a better place. I reccommend you check out Katie's blog too. She's been living there for a while and is currently raising 14 little girls. She has also partnered with a local medical distributer is able to get all the health care supplies for Masese for free.

Lokute's Story Continues...

2010-01-14T10:58:00.000-08:00

Baby Lokute's story didn't end where I left off last time. That was only day one and this little guy had a life full of adventures. So let me tell you a little more about his story...

Lokute stayed at the hospital for a little over a week with his mom, Lucia. Everyday I went to check on him, giving mom a chance to bathe and me a chance to see how he was and give him some cuddles. His room was painfully hot for anyone who wasn't a 1 kg baby and it was torture to have to stay in that room for too long, but his mom faithfully stayed there day after day with the little heater on in "Lokute's Incubator."

Tamara and Jeremy took Lucia back to Masese one afternoon so she could see her family and tell them what was happening and bring back someone to translate so we could talk about what we were going to do. Lucia is Karamojong and her language is not very well known in Jinja, thus communication was a challenge. There was a lot of motions, face-making, and laughter whenever we tried to communicate and I'm pretty sure about 95% of what was being said was lost as we acted out our words. But alas, the wonderful Lillian came to translate and we were all able to sit down with the doctor and discuss what should be done to keep Lokute healthy. Because the cost of keeping them in the hospital would be too much and Lucia had another son at home, it was finally decided that they would have to go home. So we devised a plan for how to keep Lokute warm and healthy in his dirt hut.

Lokute's hut looked something like this (sorry it's not a great picture).

Lokute was doing well during his first week of life. We had him bundled in lots of sweaters and tiny onsies and sleepers that I altered to fit him. He was wrapped in blankets and tucked into a foam pouch. And he was holding his temperature relatively well. He even went on an adventure to the chapati stand next to the hospital to get some lunch. He was quite the hit with the locals who were quite curious as to what kind of baby I had tucked away in my roll of blankets. "He's a Ugandan baby," I'd explain. "Not a Mzungu."

They day before I was to leave, Jeremy and I went with Lucia to the village to look at her hut and speak with her and Lokute's father about how they could care for their baby. We sat on mats on the dirt floor explaining ways to keep him warm and clean. About how much he needs to eat. We explained how to use a hot water bottle (something we were hoping to find so they could keep him warm at night... though one was never found). We explained and explained again, asking for them to repeat what we'd told them. And then the father left. And when he returned, he began snorting something out of his hand.

Masese is a dark place where alcohol production is a main source of income. The people are drunk much of the time, as was the father during our teaching session. Jeremy had to restrain me from telling off the father about his drinking, reminding me that culturally it would be better if he talked to him about it. Of course, once the snorting of drugs happened, I lost it. I'm not sure exactly what I said... something along the lines of, "You're going to kill your child if you bring that stuff in the house." It was like talking to a wall. He was too drunk to even register what I was saying to him, which was probably a good thing for my sake.

And that's when the translator spoke up. "He says he beats his woman sometimes." Right there, in front of all of us, as we're teaching him how to take care of his premature baby, he tells us that he beats his woman. Jeremy and I turned to each other. "This is not going to work," he said. There was no way we were going to turn this tiny baby over to a man who loses his temper like that. I have never in my life felt that much anger towards a person as I did in that moment. Tamara appeared in the doorway at that moment, rescuing us from what we probably would have said had we been left in there with that man any longer. We emerged into the light, me trembling with anger as we quickly relayed in hushed tones to Tamara what had happened.

We left that day frustrated and angry and at a loss for what to do. Back at the hospital I sat on the bench in the courtyard contemplating what solution there was for Lokute. Then Anna called (Anna is an amazing volunteer at the children's home I was living at). She told me that Holly and William (who run the home) might be willing to let Lucia, Lokute, and the other son to come and live at the boys house until Lokute was strong enough to safely return home.

Tamara and I sat there, exhausted and angry, discussing what we could do. Then the conversation turned to the larger picture of how many other stories just like that happen in the village of Masese. (Another time I'll talk about my dream to one to get to return there and work with those mom's and babies)

To bring this extremely long story to an end, Lucia, Lokute, and his brother moved into the children's home where Anna, Emma (another volunteer), and some of the mamas took shift watching over him and ensuring that he was doing well. I haven't heard the whole story on what happened, but he deteriorated quickly and two days ago he just stopped breathing. He was a fighter and he was loved and I believe he shook up the lives of all of us who cared for him.

Lokute William
December 11, 2009 - January 12, 2010

This is an excerpt from an e-mail Jeremy sent out that I wanted to share with you...
"We just returned from Masese after burying 2 baby boys. Of course, one was baby Lokute. The other we found in the arms of a mourning mother when we arrived. His name was Joseph, a one-year old nephew to Michael and Lillian. We dug two holes side by side on the hill, and crammed between the bushes next to a pig pen to hold the ceremony. There was no making the bodies look peaceful or concern about buying a casket. The babies were placed straight in the ground, wrapped in their everyday blankets and clothed in last nights pajamas. It was quick and functional for the most part. To us, disturbingly routine. For these families, especially the mothers, this was a proper burial and they were thankful.

There was obvious strangeness in contrast to our own 'culture of death', but It was also an unusual experience in light of Karamojong culture.
The Karamojong frequently abandon their dead, yet both of these mothers struggled for the lives of their children and carefully watched over them up until they were place in the ground.

Bodies are often discarded like refuse because families have no land and the public burial ground is full. Plots cost more money than they can afford. But today, a friend of the church came forward and gave a plot for the children to be buried properly.

And the Karamojong rarely pay respect to the dead, let alone hold a God honoring service. Of course, Pastor Joseph and other men of the church jumped at the chance to lead the service and minister to the family as well as the greater community with the love and truth of Jesus.

Contrary to our fears of how they'd receive us as we arrived with Lokute's body, the family was filled with thankfulness and asked only one thing from us.... that we not forget them and return to visit them at home. Mourning with them and the larger community brought about a rare occurrence. We felt like we were 'just part of them', and We were humbled and honored to mourn with them. Afterward, Lokute's mother thanked us profusely for trying to help her baby, and for helping ensure he was given a respectful service. We can only thank our merciful God. It's so clear how He continually works for their good, even in the midst of tragedy.

God has a history of using tragedy for His glory, to open eyes , to change hearts, to prepare and launch people into Kingdom work. We pray the tragedy of these two baby boys buried in the ground would be like seeds planted, springing up to new life.

i know this sounds heavy, and it is. But we're doing really well and have great peace in Christ. Pray for Masese."

2010-01-13T15:17:00.001-08:00

Yesterday baby Lokute went to be with his Jesus.

A Few of My Favorite Pictures

2010-01-08T15:34:00.000-08:00

Just a few to keep you entertained while I think of more stories to write...

Riding on Bodas

2009-12-28T11:55:00.000-08:00

If you read my account on riding bodas in Kampala, you probably had some idea of what is was like created in your head... but here is what is was really like:

The Story of Baby Lokute

2009-12-28T11:07:00.000-08:00

I met Tamara and Jeremy about 1 1/2 weeks before I was due to go home. They work in the village of Masese 3 (more on Masese another time), right on the outskirts of downtown Jinja. We were introduced to them because they have been planning on doing some health teaching with members of the village church so that those people can go out into the villages and teach the village members how to care for themselves. When they found out Andrea and I were nurses, they asked if we would be willing to teach a class. So, that is how we met the wonderful Tamara and Jeremy, who's introduction radically shook up our last 2 weeks in Uganda.

Just a few days after we met, I got a call from Tamara that went something like this:
"Um, we're in Masese right now at some one's hut, and she just gave birth to a very premature baby. It still has hair on it's face. What should we do?"
"How is his breathing?"
"Hold on, it's dark in here. Let me go outside."
"Do you want us to just come?"
"Yes! We'll pick you up in 15 minutes."

So out we drove to Masese where we went into a dark mud hut. Using my phone for light, I peeled back the blankets and saw this tiny boy...

His breath and his heart was slow. We couldn't even get a temperature reading on his body. We quickly realized we were going to need to take him to the hospital. So off we drove with mom and baby to Al Shafa Modern Medical Center in Jinja where the doctor listened to the babies heart for all of 2 seconds and then declared, "He's premature!" Thank you very much. I couldn't tell. Nobody took his temperature (which was 32 C... normal is 37C). Nobody checked his breathing. They just sent us into this room to care for him. He was laid on the yellow blanket and warmed by a space heater because the only incubator in Jinja was broken, though it turned out that this place was better than Jinja Hospital where they would have warmed him over a charcoal fire.

By some miracle of God, the nurse was able to start an IV of this babies tiny hand and started oxygen, which was flowing out of an adult size nasal cannula that we had to just hold by his face. And we had no idea how much oxygen we were giving him because the gauge on the tank didn't work. After we settled in and got everything set up, baby Lokute's breathing slowed to the point that we were contemplating doing CPR. I quickly rushed over to Amani (the baby home I worked at last year) to pick up some supplies, because they are very well stocked. I grabbed a baby oxygen mask, tiny hats, clothes, blankets... anything I could think of since Al Shafa had nothing. Of course, in the process of trying to retrieve these things I managed to fall off a large box and crash into the shelves of medicine, leaving a very large bruise on my butt.

By the time I got back, Lokute had improved and we equipped him with his new equipment. Tamara and Jeremy ordered pizza because none of us had eaten dinner yet. We ate it off this table....

You should have heard the laughter when we all suddenly stopped and realized where we were eating. Jeremy stood there with his elbow propped up on a stirrup munching his pizza. The next morning I laid across it eating my muffin. I bet none of you have ever eaten dinner off a birthing table. :)

We spent that night in the birthing room watching over baby Lokute, because in Uganda, nobody help you in the hospital. All night, the nurses didn't come in once to check on the baby. So Andrea and I took shifts, leaning over Lokute, watching his check move up and down, checking his temperature, making sure he was still alive. That night I didn't sleep at all. I lay on a mat on the floor for a while, but not once did I fall asleep.

By morning, Lokute was doing better. He began to suck and had his first real meal. And so we left the hospital at 7am, leaving Lokute and his mom, under the watchful eye of our friend Emma, and drove to Masese where we were due to teach our medical class that morning. And trust me, you would have loved to have sat in on that class... but that's a story for another time!

2009-12-23T17:43:00.000-08:00

I made it home. Survived the trip with Monica. Lots of new pictures up on facebook and more posts to come soon.

Merry Christmas!

2009-12-17T22:47:00.000-08:00

Delivered a baby last night... no big deal.

And monica and I leave this afternoon. Have all the papers... so we're a go!

good-bye uganda. i shall miss you terribly. i will be back again soon.
(P.S. I'm coming home at your request Elise, otherwise I might have had to stay)

2009-12-15T23:14:00.000-08:00

In the past 6 days I have....

- Stayed up all night watching a preemie baby breathe
- Slept on the floor of a delivery room
- Eaten pizza off the birthing table (stirrups and all)
- Taught a 5 hour class after a night of no sleep
- Created fake wounds on 25 Africans
- Made some fantastic new friends
- Named a baby

Full story and pictures to come.

I return home in 3 days. We find out today if I'm for sure bringing Monica back with me (still waiting on the visa).

2009-12-10T23:20:00.001-08:00

Going out to Masese tomorrow to teach about some basic health care in the village.

Buying a death trap of a stoller for Monica's journey back!

2009-12-08T02:57:00.000-08:00

As much as I love being in Jinja, it makes for pretty boring blog posts. There isn't much adventure or drama here. The days are slow. The kids are great. The other day the main event involved walking into town with the boys for a cinnamon role at Ozzie's (my fave place in town)... life here revolves around food for those of us non-Ugandans. All we talk about is food... what we want to eat, where we can eat, when we should eat. I have a bruise the size of half dollar on my shin. My feet are dirty. I'm hot and sweaty. I'm tired. It's only 2pm and I'm already looking forward to going to bed. My hair is a mess. I have to go to the bathroom (I could write a whole post about that, but it might not be appropriate for here). That's about it. Welcome to my life.

Tomorrow I'm going out to Masesee (I don't think that's how you actually spell it). It's a slum in Jinja. We're going to try and bring a baby to our home. His sister came to us about 1 month ago and she was extremely malnourished and sick. She's probably about 5, but can't walk and has arms and legs that are like toothpicks. She has a brand new baby brother who is apparently very tiny and also most likely HIV+. More on that after tomorrow.

Yesterday I went to meet with Kym, the woman who is overseeing Monica's paperwork in Uganda. By the end of the week we should have all the papers and the visa, which will make it a go to bring her home. All looks good right now and assuming everything works out, the two of us will be flying home in 2 weeks.

When I get back and can post my pictures... I promise I'll write more about my trip.

2009-12-03T01:19:00.000-08:00

Another quick one... just want to say I'm in Jinja working at Our Home. Love it here. So fantastic. Love the kids. Love the town. Love it!!!

2009-11-29T22:38:00.000-08:00

Just a quick update for today....

We got to Jinja on Saturday and are moving over to Holly's home today. We'll be working there for the next 3 weeks. It's an AIDS orphanage for children birth - 18. We get to visit Amani whenever we want, which is fantastic. I've been able to see my Gifty girl and spend time with Monica (the little girl I'm bringing back with me). Being back in Jinja is so good. I love this place!

Well, I have to pass the computer off to Andrea, so no exciting updates from me. Sorry!

P.S. I found out I won 2nd prize in a photo contest with fujifilm! Sadly, I can't claim the prize because I'm in Uganda and can't do the paperwork.

2009-11-26T22:01:00.000-08:00

The Right Now

I just went to the bathroom with 2 chickens watching me. There is a man hacking up a loogie into a garbage pile in front of me. There's a half eaten lizard lying on the porch. Chicken poo is on my foot. An old truck is making it's way up the bumpy dirt road. A small child just walked by, waved, and called "By-ye" to me. The man and his son are picking trash out of the garbage pile to take home with them. And I am surrounded by beautiful trees and can hear birds calling in the distance.

Some things about this place i hate

The children are dressed in rags, except when they put on their fancy clothes to take pictures to send to their sponsors. The staff just spent almost $1,000 on a phone purchased in an airport and a ridiculously nice camera that they don't know how to use yet they can't afford to feed the children anything more than posho and beans. They recently built a door between the office and the kids area and keep it locked so the staff never interact with the kids. There's almost no superversion, except by Auntie, but she can't watch 32 kids on her own. Nobody cares when a kid is sick and they put a 19 year old in charge of medicines.

Some things about this place i love

The kids are sweet and loving and they always want to help you (though their help is often not very helpful). They're snuggly and well-behaved some of the time. I'm in Uganda, which is always a plus. Hmmm... there's a lot less that I love about this place. I have to say, I can't wait to go back to Jinja tomorrow.

A Note on Monica

I believe it's now official that I will be bringing back 2 year old Monica from Uganda where her adoptive mother will meet me in San Francisco. We will be traveling for 30 hours, 2 plane rides, and an 8 hour layover together. It shall be an exciting adventure!

Things I'm going to eat when I get home...
Tacos
Broccoli
Pizza
Milk
Pie
Mashed Potatos with sour cream and garlic chives
Chips
Anything that has some texture and crunch to it!

A few more pictures because I actually have access to the internet and it is working fairly well....

A few pictures...

2009-11-26T20:55:00.000-08:00

2009-11-26T11:45:00.000-08:00

When it rains, it pours

It rains. A lot. Almost every day. And always when I am out. The other day I stood pressed up against a wall under a tiny tin roof overhang trying to avoid the torretial downpour that occured as soon as I was as far away from shelter as possible. I waded ankle deep in muddy water across the busy Kampala street, trying not to be run over or to think of the many diseases I was probably catching. Drivers actually stopped their cars to let me cross. I think the sight of the skinny, dripping wet, gastly white Mzungu bouncing down the street through the flooded streets was enough to stop them in their tracks. What a sight I was.

Last week while picking up the littler kids from school, the rains came. It started as just a trickle, then harder, until we were soaking wet. Picture me running down a dirt road with 4 little Ugandan girls with their sweaters pulled up over their heads. Lifting them up and over rivers of water onto safe ground. Running onto the porches of strangers to avoid those few extra raindrops. This is my life here.

Dinner for how many?

Tonight I made dinner. For 32 children and 4 adults. That is a lot of food! Now try doing it outside, under a tin roof, over a fire. Yes, I succeeded and managed to produce a fantasticly delicious vegetable fried rice. I even was honored with a dance by Juliet (one of the girls). It was her "Balanced Diet, I'm Full" dance. Oh, and did I mention there was no power? That's right. This was all done in the dark with only the help of my head lamp which hung from a post.

A Few Short Stories...

2009-11-19T08:22:00.000-08:00

Even the soap in Uganda is dirty

This is a country that, no matter how hard you try, will remain dirty. The flies will always come back, even when you scrub everything with bleach. So will the smell of pee. The children will always have snot running out of their noses. Your clothes will smell like feet, even though you just washed them. Even the soap has dirt on it. Your feet will be covered in mud, even though you washed them 5 minutes ago and your hair will always be slimy. It’s impossible to dry your hands and if you have toilet paper, you’re lucky. Approximately every 2.6 minutes, a child will cough/sneeze in your face. And just try and find something to blow your nose into. Your bed will be dusty and your socks will be red like clay. It doesn’t matter if you wash the bathroom floor. There will be footprints all over it within the hour. If your fingernails get clean it’s a miracle and don’t even try to clean your toes. Don’t be surprised if you step in the mud, it won’t be the only time. If your skirt gets dirty while your trying to wash your clothes or a kid runs off with your sock, just take a deep breath. If you drop your fork in the dirt, just pick it up and keep using it. The flies on your food will never go away, so don’t bother shooing them. And just remember, when you leave Uganda, the dirt will wash off, though I wouldn’t mind if a little of it stayed on.

Riding on Bodas* with boys
Climb on a boda and pray they don’t crash. If they’re wearing a reflective vest and a helmet, you can hope they drive a little safer. Never trust that they know where you want to go when you ask and they hesitate before saying yes. They don’t know. Keep your knees in close and your arms crossed in front if you don’t want to lose them. If the driver asks if you have a boyfriend, tell him you’re married. Close your eyes when the cars get to close or you might scream and scare the boda man. Always bargain. It is not 5,000 shillings to the taxi park. It’s 3,000. Yes, I know the price, so don’t try and mess with me. I’ll just pick a different boda. It’s OK to have a terrified look on your face as you weave in and out of traffic. I think it keeps the other drivers from hitting you. And always, always, hold on tight.

*Bodas are motorcycles you can hire for transport

How to cross an Intersection

One might think that crossing the street is a relatively easy thing to do. If you’re from Chicago, you just jump in front of the cars and pray they stop. In California, they stop because they want to. Here, they don’t stop. They’ll just hit you. Apparently Uganda has never heard of a stop sign. Look to your right, not your left, before you cross or else your friend will have to rescue you from being run over. Come to an intersection and you’ll find a mass of cars coming from all directions, pressed up against each other. If you want to cross, you have to walk through them. Of course, they inch up every so often. So if you want to pass it’s helpful to put your hand on the hood of the car and look horrified. It takes a while to weave in and out of the cars. People are pushing. Horns are honking. Cars are moving. People are yelling. Up and down the street you go until you make it to the other side. And don’t forget to watch your toes! Try not to get pulled into a taxi, because everyone wants you to choose theirs. And look where you’re stepping or you could fall in a hole.

So, um, you maybe sort of want a taxi to, hmmm, how much? What?

If you want to go somewhere, don’t ask a Ugandan to take you. It will take you twice as long and you’ll never know where you’re going. Before you make it out of the driveway you’ll probably fall into a mud puddle and have to go back to wash your foot. Did you forget to mention we weren’t driving? Walk to the main road and ask a boda driver how much to the hospital. It’s perfectly acceptable to hum and hah for 10 minutes and ask a few other people. Oh yah, and by the way… our appointment started 2 minutes ago. Why are we just leaving? We had to eat lunch of course! Walk to the next road because I guess we’re taking a taxi now. Climb in and try and find a seat. You’ll find at least 14 other people in the back. Stop! Stop! We want to get off! How the heck to you tell them that? Don’t get hit by a boda when you cross the street to get a private taxi. Get in the front. Both of you. How many people can we stuff in the back? Four. Wow. There’s no place for my legs. Out the window maybe? How about on top of yours? Can you breathe? Please don’t run over the goat. That bull is looking at me funny.

Auntie, you see?

You see? You see? Yes Allen, I see that you put your shoe on. Yes Gift, I see that you are dry. Yes Anisha, I see your finger. Yes Allen, I see that you put your other shoe on. You see? You see? Yes Bridget, I see the marker. Yes Enock, I can see your picture. Yes, I still see it. I have seen it. Four times. Yes Freda, I can see. Do you see me seeing? Yes Sandra, I see what Bridget is doing. Yes Linda, I see what Bridget is doing. I am looking. Auntie, you see? Yes Allen, I see that your sweater is on. I see your picture, I see your shoe, I see you pants, I see the cat. I see what you’re doing, I have seen, I am seeing. Do you see me seeing?

2009-11-18T06:32:00.001-08:00

P.S. Commenting is now possible for those who do not have a blogger account. :)

Donating Money

2009-11-18T06:26:00.000-08:00

I was informed that a few people are interested in donating money. If you are, what I would now recommend is that you send money to my mom, who can put it my account, and I will then withdraw it here and purchase things that are needed at the home. I currently do not trust the management here to use the money wisely. It also is expensive to send donated items, so if you want something specific to be purchased, let me know and I can do that.
A few more items to add to the need list:
- food
- sheets
- medicine cabinet locks

Address to:
Marjorie Recotta
Make check to me
1517 St. Francis Way
San Carlos, CA 94070

I will be at this home for another week and a half, so if donations are to be made, please try and do it before then. Also, if you do send money, please e-mail me at jrecotta@yahoo.com or jenrecotta@gmail.com and let me know the amount and if there's a specific use you want for it.

Thanks!!

Will try and post more about my time here soon!!

Home Sweet Home

2009-11-15T07:44:00.000-08:00

I just have a minute to write because I'm waiting for a bus to head back to Kampala. I spent the weekend in Jinja and got to visit Amani. It was so great getting to see all the kids and friends there. I got to see my Gift (for those who don't know, she is the love of my life whom I would adopt in a second if I could). She is so big, running and talking and still with the same sweet face. Jinja felt like home and I'm eager to leave Kampala and stay in Jinja.

The computer at the home in Kampala has broken, so don't expect updates often. I'll do my best though. I'll try and write down my adventures so I can post them later

Pray for Monica and her family as they finish up the adoption process and see if they can make it work for me to bring her home to them.

P.S. Remind me to make you a Rolex when I get home. I shall have mastered it this time and you will all be amazed!

Life at Another Hope

2009-11-12T10:29:00.001-08:00

I have finally made it back to the computer. I was left the computer this evening to work on things for our nursing project, unfortunately all the other volunteers had planned to go out tonight and that left andrea and i the only caretakers of all 34 children. We had 8(ish) little ones to bathe, dress, feed, entertain, brush teeth, and put to bed. Exhausting! Especially when they're all wild with pent-up energy and need a good, long run. The space here is not very large and there are no toys for them to play with, so they spend a lot of time picking up rubbish from the ground and either eating it or using it as a toy. It's a constant attempt at conflict resolution between children who are often beating on each other, which is nearly impossible as there is really no system of discipline here. I'm constantly dragging kids off to the "naughty corner," which is not enforced by many here. I think I'm the strongest of disciplinarians here (though those of you who know me well know I'm always like that).

Tomorrow we're doing a teaching on teeth brushing and then one on basic hygiene and hand washing next week. We have SO much to do for this project we're working on. We've thus far only managed to organize the medicine cupboard and catalog what we have. We still have to make a medication guide for all the drugs, develop a charting system and medication administration system, work on cleanliness, menus, child development (ie: toys and such things), and probably lots of other things we haven't even thought of yet.

I got an e-mail today from Judy (who is currently working at Amani and was there last year when I was there) asking if I would consider bringing one of the children from Amani (Monica) back to the states with me when I fly. She's in the process of being adopted, but her family cannot afford the cost of tickets to and from Uganda for them and Monica. I will be talking with Judy this weekend and probably hearing from the family soon. We shall see. I'd be really excited to get to do that, but it would also be a long grueling trip. It would consist of 9 hours on a night flight from Uganda to London, 12 hours in London, and another 10 hour flight back to San Francisco. With a 2 year-old. Who is blind.

If any of you are interested in contributing to this home, there are a lot of things we need to help get our new health care system in place. Here is a list of the things I can think of now:
- bath towels
- clothes for children 3 - 19 yrs.
- toys
- Sheets and blankets
- Chewable vitamins
- Medical supplies (band-aids, gauze, medicine cups, and lots more!)
If anyone feels like donating anything, you can let me know and I can help you figure out how to get it here. I also might be sending a package of stuff over upon my return.

Welcome to Uganda

2009-11-11T05:46:00.001-08:00

I arrived in Uganda a few days ago, was greeted by three enthusiastic Ugandans with a sign with my name on it, and promptly hoped into the car to make the hour journey to Another Hope. The moment I got in the car, I noticed the gas light was lit up. We continued to bounce along the road, swerving to miss oncoming traffic and pedestrians, creating major panick for me (both in relation to the dwindling gas and the possibility of running someone down).

Although internet is available, it's hard to get time to use it and the computer is not often available, so I shall give a very brief description of my time here for now (perhaps another time I will be able to fully share of the happenings here as they are also enternaining).

(see.. I was just called off the show some kids how to do the 'Down by the banks' game, but I'm back again)

So, things that have happened so far...
- On the car ride to pick up my friend Andrea from the airport, which set off about 1 1/2 hours later than planned, I was informed that we are to create an entire health care system for the orphanage. Suprise!
- I've hauled homeade bricks, ended up red from head to toe from the dirt, and been informed by children that I am dirty.
- I have showerd in a bucket.
- Been followed down the road by Ugandan children who continued to say "hey girl!" [must be said with a teenage girl accent, though the children were only about 7].
- Woken to the sounds of wooden spoons echoeing inside large tin pots and hacking children... at 5am.
- Been unclear as to whether people are speaking English or Lugandan to me.
- Read stories to a little boy who promptly peed on my lap.
- Eaten posho.
- Walked down the middle of the busy Kampala road between a mass of taxi vans all while trying not to be run over, which was very likely several times.
- Ridden in a matato (a taxi van) with 14 other people.
- Been asked if I know Obama.
- Been sneezed on. Coughed on. Drooled on. Peed on.

The list goes on and on and I wish I had time to fully write out my stories, because they are in fact all hysterical. Perhaps one day soon.

This weekend we have hopes of returning to Jinja to visit the kids that we know there!

Un pomme?

2009-11-06T05:07:00.000-08:00

The last couple days I've been exploring on my own while Elise is at work. The first day I clung to my camera, hoping it made it obvious that I was a tourist and did not in fact speak French. Today, I ventured out camera free and went into a few shops to explore. I even purchased an apple pastery.

The pastery conversation went a little like this:
Shop Owner: Bonjour!
Me: Bonjour. Um.... I don't speak any French.
SO: something in French
Me: pointing to the pastery I wanted. Pum? (pomme is apple in french... i remember how to say it because it rhymes with bum)
SO: something else in French?
Me: Oui. [hopefully giving correct amount of money]
SO: Merci
Me: Merci
SO: Bye!

Typically my French conversations involve a lot of pointing and face-making, as my French vocabulary consists of very few words, most of which I can hardly pronounce. This is what I can say: Hello. Thank you very much. Good-bye. Yes. No. My dog. You are stupid. The petite whale. All in all, these are not particularly useful phrases.

Well, off I go again to explore Chambery... once again with camera in hand.

Here are a few more pictures.... part of my window series:

And then it rained...

2009-11-05T02:35:00.000-08:00

I left San Francisco on Thursday evening after downing my last American food in a nearby parking lot (it consisted of a burrito from my favorite local Mexican restaurant - La Cumbre - in San Mateo... you should go there if you've never been!). I managed to sleep most of the flight, with the aid of ear plugs, an eye mask (provided by the airline!), a neck pillow, a sweatshirt, a blanket, and a few sleeping pills. I arrived in London Friday afternoon with exactly one hour between when my flight was due to land and when my connecting flight was to leave. I have no idea what time we actually landed or how long it took me to get off the plane, but the combination of that and the fact that I had to walk down a series of hallways that were probably a 1/2 mile long, take 3 escalators, go through customs, and go through security again... I missed my flight. I then had to wait upwards of 4 hours for another flight, which didn't get me to France until 10:30pm, which meant that Elise and I missed to last bus to Chambery where she lives, which then meant we had to sleep in the airport.

After a sleepless night on a cafe bench tied to my suitcase, we took a hour bus ride to Chambery where it was freezing and rainy. The next day we took a bus to Torino, Italy where we spend 2 1/2 days. Of course, the weather was terrible and we couldn't see the supposed gorgeous mountains surrounding the town. We had a nice time exploring and me taking pictures of everything and saw some cool buildings. We had lots of pizza, ate gelato, were given free drinks by a man named Jean Franco who offered to take us to the mountains, didn't pay for bus tickets, went to a market and talked to some sweet older women who tried to teach us Italian (which I am way better at than French), drank a whole bottle of wine in our hostel while being serenaded by the man in the shower next door, wandered around with only 4 euros looking for food, ate lunch at a restaurant that only took cash (oops!), saw lots of dogs in sweaters, and then went home on a train filled with children hacking up all sorts of germs.

Then, I tried to go to Paris but something happened in the midst of buying my train ticket and it was lost. So here I am, still in Chambery, eating my baguette.

Italy Pictures: click to see large

France Pictures: Also click to see large

2009-10-10T12:34:00.001-07:00

What could be better than traveling 2,500 miles to have these sweet arms thrown around your neck and that little 2-year old voice saying, "I love you Jenny. I'm glad you came."

And this sweet little face leaving slobbery kisses all over you?

Moving on

2009-07-15T09:31:00.000-07:00

Next week I will be packing up my car and my rabbit and I will be driving cross country, home to california. Part of me is glad to by out of Chicago and the city, but there are people and things here that I will miss. Like being able to ride my bike everywhere and walk down the street to school, to be able to drop in and visit the wise U-min staff, to be able to drive and hour and see my two favorite little girls. I will miss those things. But at home I will have a job and a free place to live and fanstic farmers markets and good friends and the ocean and the trees. And it will be good. And then off to France and Uganda!

This week I got to spend another two days with the girls... potty training (not too successful). I shall miss them terribly.

Me and my Lucy bug

2009-07-08T10:17:00.000-07:00

I spent the last 2 days reveling in the hugs and kisses of 2 year old Langsea and the wet licks and huge smiles of little Lucy. How fantastic it is the spend time with children!

Beautiful Langsea Goose

Sweet Lucy Bug

2009-06-24T08:38:00.000-07:00

A few days ago we had the most magnificant storm. It poured buckets and there was thunder and lightening and hail. After a lull in the storm it picked up again and as a ran through the house shutting all the windows I hit a puddle of water in the darkened living room in front of the porch door, slipped, flew up in the air, crashed into the screen door, and landed flat on my back. As I jumped up again I could see the sheets of water flying sideways onto the porch, where all of my delicate plants were precariously sitting on the ledge. I spent the next 15 minutes running in and out of the house dragging wet plants into the living room and the sheets of water pelted my body. I was soaked down to my underpants with in minutes. Quite a night!

Back to Africa?

2009-06-03T10:49:00.001-07:00

My dear friend Andrea (who is from Australia but I met her in Africa) is maybe going back to Africa for November/December. I've been wanting to go back but things haven't fallen into place. Now, however, it looks like I might be able to go back with her.... and spend some time in Paris on the way there. This, however, means I will not be getting a real job until at least February. Wise? I don't know. Exciting? Yes!!

A few pictures from the past week:

Elise and David

Niagra Falls

Botanical Gardens

2009-05-23T19:41:00.000-07:00

Just got back from 5 wonderful days in Colorado with my best friend. A great way to start life as a "real" adult. :)

I got a new lense for my camera and so we took over 700 pictures...

Including some "Save the Date" pictures...

We tried on some bridesmaid's dresses and wedding dresses (sorry... can't show you the wedding dress)...

And then took a million more pictures of everything we saw...

2009-05-14T15:15:00.000-07:00

I am officially a graduate of North Park University. All classes passed, all exams completed. WooHoo! And now the studying for the NCLEX begins.

Here are a few pictures from the big day...

Me and my lovely honored guest at the pinning ceremony...

2009-05-06T09:32:00.000-07:00

I am officially done with nursing school! I passed my comprehensive exam (and it told me I have a 97% chance of passing boards). I somehow managed to pass all my classes... not sure how that happened. I don't have to be harrassed by these guys anymore...

And I'm staying here... and that makes me happy. I get to enjoy a Chicago summer and spend time with friends who are staying here and I don't have to say good-bye to my friends who are still in school. And I can enjoy life before I have to get a real job and work real hours.

And I get to visit Elise in Colorado and go to NY for Eric and Alanna's wedding and go to Wisconsin to stay with Judy.

And I can finally take a deep breath and relax!

2009-05-05T13:01:00.000-07:00

One more nursing exam to go before graduation... and it's a big one. One I have to pass to graduate. I'm only a little freaked out. :{ Today was one of the last times I will be with my whole nursing class. And so I had some fun taking pictures of everyone as we celebrated the end.

Spring in full bloom...

2009-04-30T16:15:00.000-07:00

Elise, this one's for you. :)

Spring has finally come so I went out with my camera today and took advantage of the fresh tulips and the rain drops on them. And I had a conversation with a random man on the street. And I took pictures of our neighborhood and the people in it (hard to do discreetly!). Today has been lovely.

Plumpynut

2009-04-28T14:18:00.000-07:00

A Lifesaver called "Plumpynut"

2009-04-24T13:11:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to show off my favorite girl a little bit more...

I'm learning a lot about love from this little girl. When I'm with her I understand complete and true love... that feeling where you'd do absolutely anything to make someone happy or to protect them. I love the age she is right now. I love playing with her and snuggling and hearing "jeenee" called out. But I also can't wait for her to be older... To be able to talk to her about life and take her out for coffee and just love on her. Sometimes I'm amazed at how much I love this little girl and I wonder how much more my love will be for my own children.

Love is...

2009-04-20T09:01:00.000-07:00

Love is laying on the floor and staring at the 'stars' and 'clouds' on the ceiling and pretending that you are flying.

Love is holding tiny Lucy in my arms.

Love is reading books about bumble bees.

Love is pretending to eat a plastic pea to make my girl laugh.

Love is kissing hurts to make them better.

Love is arms reaching for you.

Love is knowing how to shake the gas away.

Love is hearing your name called from across the house.

Love is eating a slobbery cookie.

Love is slaying imaginary dragons under the stairs.

Love is splashing in the drinking fountain.

Love is offering your finger because it's way better than a pacifier.

Love is fits of hysterical laughter.

Love is...

2009-04-14T17:54:00.000-07:00

I took advantage of the sun the other day and went out into the neighborhood to take a few pictures...

And of course, Jonas was the subject of some shots too...

2009-04-14T17:49:00.000-07:00

I am frustrated and so tired of school. I'm sick of teachers who don't know what they're doing and are so disorganized that you can't keep up with what's going on. I took this dumb quiz today... i understood all of the concepts. I probably couldn't have written a short essay about each one, but the phrasing of them was so darn confusing I couldn't figure out for the life of me what the correct multiple choice answer was. I need a break from all of this. My head cannot contain all of the information I need to learn and all the things I'm trying to sort our and papers I'm trying to write. It's exhausting. I need a break from my own head.

2009-04-12T05:52:00.000-07:00

My mom used to sing me this song...

Easter Bonnet
Written by Irving Berlin

In your Easter bonnet with all the frills upon it,
You'll be the grandest lady in the Easter Parade.
I'll be all in clover, and when they look you over
I'll be the proudest fellow in the Easter Parade.
On the Avenue, Fifth Avenue,
The photographers will snap us
And you'll find that you're in the rotogravure.
Oh, I could write a sonnet about your Easter bonnet
And of the girl I'm taking to the Easter Parade.

In my Easter bonnet with all the frills upon it,
I'll be the grandest lady in the Easter Parade.
You'll be all in clover, and when they look me over
You'll be the proudest fellow in the Easter Parade.
On the Avenue, Fifth Avenue,
The photographers will snap us
And you'll find that you're in the rotogravure.
Oh, you may write a sonnet about my Easter bonnet
And of the girl you're taking to the Easter Parade.

You can't have Easter without a cute rabbit and a chicken...

2009-04-10T15:46:00.001-07:00

2009-04-09T15:23:00.000-07:00

Happiness is a warm rabbit... unless he poops on your bed!

As Long as You're Happy...

2009-04-05T12:31:00.001-07:00

I've been thinking about this phrase a lot lately. It's something that people say all the time. When a friend is dating someone who is not worth it or is pining there life away doing nothing. You sit discussing the predicament that your friend is in and then respond with, "Well, as long as they're happy." Is that really how we, as Christians, should respond to each other? That's not how God intended it to be. It's not "as long as you're happy." It should be, "well, as long as you're honoring God." Why aren't we honest with each other? Why don't we just say, "get off the couch and do something with your life." Harsh, perhaps. But we're not doing any good by placating each other.

Handing over your money...

2009-04-01T13:47:00.000-07:00

This past month we've been looking at what it means to give generously. What does it look like to not be bound by money? What happens when we ask God what He wants us to do with our money... and then we actually do it? Students have been stepping out, leaping out, in faith and handing their money over trusting that God is going to use it and in return bless them and take care of them. One student felt called to give up her entire savings. She felt like she should give it all to a hispanic woman with a stroller. So she prayed that God would provide such a person and as she was there withdrawing the money a hispanic woman pushing a stroller walked into the bank. She put the money in the envelope, wrote a note about God's love, handed it to the woman, and then walked out and drove away. She won't know what happened to that money, how the woman was blessed, but she was faithful to what God called her to.

This month I went to the bank and withdrew $100 and then put my debit card and checkbook into an envelope and handed it over to my campus pastor for safekeeping. That's enough money for fresh fruits and veggies, food for my rabbit, and some extra for school costs and emergencies for the month. I want to be aware of exactly how I'm spending my money. I'm sure what that means for what will happen to the money that's being saved. I'm waiting for God to call me into using that money... perhaps it will be for Uganda or for a family that's adopting... I don't know yet. But I'm trusting that God will reveal that to me in this coming month.

Our school had a goal of raising $3,000 to help build a bank in Mexico. We had 1 week to do this and considering the challenge was made to a room of only about 250 college students, we really didn't think it would happen. But the next week we took and offering and this is what happened...

Dancing (or running) in the Rain

2009-04-01T13:39:00.000-07:00

Have you ever seen the rain coming? I was walking down the street last night and looked up and could actually see a wall of water moving towards me from behind the apartment buildings. It came fast too! I glanced at it and it just registered in my head when all of the sudden I could feel it pounding down on me as I took off in a dead sprint towards campus. By the time I made it into a building I was soaking wet and developed a cramp from hysterical laughter. It made me want to dance in the rain... which I would have had I not been caring my purse and wearing wool shoes. I danced in my head though.

Talking Yams...

2009-03-30T15:17:00.000-07:00

I'm taking a storytelling class right now and this is the story I'm telling in class tomorrow....

"Talk"

There was once a country man from Africa who when out to his garden to dig up some yams to take to the market. As he was digging one of his yams suddenly spoke to him! He said, “You never come to take care of me and suddenly you show up with your digging stick? Go away and leave me alone!”

The man turned to his cow in amazement, but his cow just stood there chewing and staring at him. “Did you say something?” he asked. But the cow just continued to stand there and stare at him.

“It wasn’t the cow who spoke to you,” said the dog. “It was the yam. The yam says to go away and leave him alone!”

The man was starting to become upset at this point because neither his dog nor his yam had ever spoken before and he certainly didn’t like the dog’s tone.

In his anger he went over to a palm tree and pulled out his knife, cutting a branch to whip his dog. Suddenly the tree spoke out and said, “Put that branch down!”

Flustered and a little bit worried the man went to throw the branch down but the branch yelled out, “Man, do it softly!”

So the man went and set the branch down on a stone. “Take that thing off me,” demanded the stone.

At this, the man was so upset and terrified that suddenly everything had begun to talk to him. He threw his digging stick onto the ground and began to run down the road. As he was running he came across a fisherman who was walking the other way with a fish trap on his head.

“Why are you running?” he asked the country man.

“I was out in my garden digging and all of the sudden everything started talking. My yam said ‘Go away and leave me alone.’ Then the dog said to listen to the yam. Then when I went to cut a branch to whip the dog the tree said ‘Put that branch down’ and when I started to set it down the branch said ‘Do it softly.’ Then the stone that I set the branch on said ‘Take that thing off me!’”

“That’s no big deal,” said the fisherman.

“Well, did he take it off the stone?” asked the fish trap.

“Wah!!” yelled the fisherman throwing the fish trap off his head and began running down the road with the country man.

Soon they ran into a weaver walking along the road with a big bundle of cloth on his head.
“Why are you in such a hurry?” asked the weaver.

“I was in my garden and my yam said “Go away and leave me alone” and then the dog said “listen to the yam.” Then when I cut a branch the tree said “Put that branch down” and the branch said “do it softly” and the stone said “Take that thing off me!””

“And my fish trap said ‘Well, did he take it off?’”

“That’s nothing to run about,” laughed the weaver.

“You’d run too if it happened to you,” said the cloth.

“Wahhh!!” screamed the weaver throwing the cloth onto the road and began to run with the other two men.

When they came to the river they came across a man bathing in the water. “Are you chasing a gazelle?” he asked.

“My yam said ‘leave me alone’ and the dog said ‘listen to the yam’ and the tree said ‘put the branch down’ and the branch said ‘do it softly’ and the stone said ‘take that thing off me.’”

“And my fish trap said ‘Did he?’” said the fisherman.

“And my cloth said “You’d run too!” said the weaver.

“That’s no reason to run away,” said the man.

“Oh yes it is,” said the river.

“Wahhh!” yelled the man as he jumped out of the river and began to run with the other 3 men.
Soon the 4 men reached the chief of the village. His servant carried out his stool and the chief came and sat down on it.

Then men began to tell their story…

“I went out to my garden and my yam said ‘Go away and leave me alone.’ And then my dog said ‘Listen to the yam.’ When I went to cut a branch to whip the dog the tree said ‘put that branch down’ and then the branch said ‘Do it softly’ and the stone said ‘take that thing off me,’” panted the country man.

“And then my fish trap asked, ‘Well, did he?’” wheezed the fisherman.

“And my cloth said ‘You’d run too,’” said the weaver.

“And the river said the same,” said the other man.

The chief listened carefully and then said, “Well, that’s an awfully crazy story. I should get you all in trouble for disturbing the peace! Now, go home and return to your work.”

All of the men with heads bowed began walking down the road back home.

“Nonsense like this upsets the community,” mumbled the chief to himself.

“Fantastic, isn’t it?” said the stool. “Imagine, a talking yam!”

Beginnings... again.

2009-03-30T15:08:00.001-07:00

I tried hard to be cool and use a different, more origional blogger host. But alas, I have given in and returned to the more popular (for obvious reasons) site. Well, I tried.