A Title Upgrade

On a daily basis I hear my name at least fifty times. But it is not my given name of, Na-tall-ee (as they pronounce it here), it is "Teacha".

Teacha, how are you? Teacha, can I have a (fill in the blank)? Teacha, so and so is disturbing me. Teacha, when are we going to (fill in the blank)? Teacha this and Teacha that.

(Don't be confused. I am the program coordinator and have been for the past 6.5 years. But when I first joined the Lulwanda family, I taught phonics to our oldest children for 2.5 years and the name "Teacha" just stuck. Even the newest family members who came last year call me that, since they hear their older siblings using the name.)

I was recently visiting some of our secondary children at their boarding school located in Mbale town. While I was walking with one of my dear boys, Josephat, he said, "Teacha..... but should I really call you teacha because it has been a long time since you have taught us? What if I call you Mum?" I told him that that title would be my greatest honor. We continued walking and after about a minute of silence he said, "But are you really worthy of being called Mum?" I replied that that was for him to decide. But that I have tried my best to be faithful to loving him and all of the other children at LCH. Later that day he called a friend over and in his introductions, Josephat said, "This is my Mum. I think you have heard me speak of Na-talie." My heart swelled with joy over this title upgrade.

Two of my sons, James (left) and Josephat (right)

Later that week, Josephat called me and asked if I was "so busy" that Saturday? After assuring him that I wasn't too busy he said, "Teacha, if  you are really my Mum then please come to a performance at school on Saturday morning and see me direct the choir." So as a proud mama, I attended the school celebration and watched my son lead the school choir in beautiful hymns and worship songs.

We move by grace!

I am so glad that many days in Uganda and at Lulwanda are filled with smiles and jokes shared with the children or little chuckles created by TIA moments (This Is Africa). But not everyday is like that.

We move by grace, from one day to the next. We move by grace while raising these children up. We move by grace in helping to shape hearts. We move by grace in handling disciplinary issues. We move by grace in processing the life that was for them. We move by grace in hoping for the life to come and what the future holds.

There was recently a day that moving by grace was all we had and (as always) the Father's grace was sufficient.

I will borrow the words from the blog of one of the Global Journey team members, Claire, who beautifully captured this days events.

"During the morning tour of the home and school, one of the house mothers informed Natalie, a resident missionary, that she had received a call that one of the mothers of three of the children had passed away the previous night.  After some tears and a heartfelt prayer with the teams, we continued on with our day.  After one of the children, Grace (15) had been told, we received word that there had been a mistake and that the mother was not in fact dead. 

(Input from Nat: We had been called and told that the mother had passed away in the night. We knew that the kids would be terribly upset and it was over an hour drive to get to their village, so we decided we would not tell the children until we were almost there, and that is just what happened. As the group drove up to the family home where they expected the burial to be, there were no signs of burial soon to happen. Upon asking the clan members knew nothing about a death. The group was directed to another home where they drove up and found the mother laying on a mat outside the hut, ALIVE! We had been misinformed.)

Last night, our team had the opportunity to eat with Natalie and Grace and another sweet girl, Helen.  After introducing them to chicken pot pie and devouring some chocolate cake, we began to clean up.  Noticing that Natalie and girls were in the living room area of our accommodations, I walked in to find a very somber Grace and Natalie speaking words of truth over the teen.  You must know that Grace is one of the most joyful people I have ever been blessed to meet.  Despite the news, she had kept a smile on her face for the entire day, continuing to love on the other children, hugging me often, and talking without ceasing about all that she has learned as a result of her being an avid reader.

As I sat down near Natalie and Grace, Natalie began to speak scripture over her, encouraging her to turn to God.  The missionary began to gently probe Grace to share the feelings she was experiencing.  I learned that Grace had had the opportunity to visit her mother and grandmother.  Tears began to stream down her face as she explained the condition of her mother, who was battling HIV.  She explained that she was very, very sick, and was being taken care of by Grace’s grandmother.  Grace seemed to feel guilty that she was at Luwanda with her 2 siblings, rather than caring for her mother.

Seeing such a joyful, inspirational young women suffer and be so vulnerable overwhelmed my heart, and I began to cry.  We sat there in silence for what I think was an hour.  Resting in his presence, praying over sweet Grace, crying, and just being.  This time of silence transitioned into a time of tearful worship, and the rest of the team joined the three of us, in praising the Creator of the Universe for creating sweet Grace, praying that she and her family be surrounded in peace that surpassed all understanding.  I struggle even now to write about it without tearing up.  There are no words that would be adequate to describe the beauty and the simultaneous pain of the situation.  God’s presence was so palpable in that place.  As I sit and reflect, I cannot help but think that this is how God created us to be, creatures of praise, fellowshipping with one another and serving one another and encouraging one another.  Just being with one another.  I pray that my life will be filled with moments like the one last night, that my heart would experience joy and pain and beauty and grace and in all moments praise the one and only God who created us so perfectly.

After resting in His presence for a little longer, Natalie initiated a dance party, which turned into the best dance party ever had."  - Claire, GJ 2016 team member

photo credit: Kathie H.

           (I love this sweet girl so much and have been immensely blessed by this Grace in my life!)

This post was originally written around the beginning of July. Sadly, on July 29, Egulasi's (and Clement and Emma Dee) mother passed away. I attended the burial with them, along with 4 other staff members and three other children. 

I almost lost it completely as we were driving out to the village and I started thinking of the Lord's sovereignty and goodness over all of these children's lives. Tears filled my eyes especially as I remembered how just merely a year ago I sat in a meeting and held up Emma and another little boy's photo and the social inquiry team told me to choose (in which I selected Emma, based on his age and that it was likely his last opportunity to be considered-- click here for the full story). If not for the Lord moving on this boy's behalf, I thought of how we would be driving to the village and would have found him there, having just lost the mother and in total crisis mode. If we would have just found Emma in the village that day at burial, it would not have been an easy or a quick task to work with the government to bring him in to LCH. But because of the Lord's tender mercies and love for this boy, he has been part of the LCH family for over a year and I have had the privilege to see him change so much in countenance and hope. But needing to be the strong one to be there for the children, I could only think this thought briefly before I had to shove it aside so I didn't totally lose it before we even reached the burial. 


Obviously, these children are still grieving (though I do see joy and normalcy returning). Please pray for them. Also, in a home of 119, there are many other children with emotional grief- known and unknown to us as their caregivers. Pray that the Wonderful Counselor is near and helps walk them through whatever they are going through. 

Simple Acts of Love

During first term I went for visitation day to St. Paul’s College to visit some of our secondary students who attend boarding school there. While we were all standing around chatting, I noticed there was a boy who was lingering around our van. After a few minutes, I looked up and smiled at him. He then came over and said, “Auntie, do you remember me?”

I meet many people and his face looked a bit familiar but I couldn’t place it. I asked him how I knew him. “You carried me when I was little at St. Kizito’s.” I then remembered him clearly. His name is James.

James is on the far right.

Allan, me, and James (now in Senior One)

Throughout the years I have had the opportunity to take small groups of the Lulwanda children to a local babies home called St. Kizito. Here we spend a few hours holding the little ones and playing with the older ones. It is a double win because these babies get stimulation and special attention that they might not have, while my LCH children are able to interact with little ones and offer their service and love, instead of always being on the receiving end.

Many of the children placed at St. Kizito have lost their mother either while birthing that child or soon afterwards. This means that there is usually a father or relative who want the newborn, but are unable (or too overwhelmed) to properly care for the child. So, they are placed at St. Kizito to be taken care by the Sisters (of the Catholic church) until they are a bit older and can be returned to their relatives. 

This means that throughout the years I have seen many children come and go. It is very uncommon for me to return and the same children to be there. But certain children have no one to go to and remain throughout their childhood. James was one of these children and is now in Senior One class and friends with some of our Lulwanda Children.

I have also gotten to watch sweet Jane grow in age (but barely in size) over the years. It is a miracle she is still alive, in my opinion. She has cerebral palsy. Pray for the Lord’s perfect will and help over her life. And that Jesus would daily be her closest friend.

Jane last week (8 years old)

Jane in 2009 (about 2 years old)

 

Ten Little Chicks

This story has two parts, so let me start at it’s genesis, though little did I know when it was happening that it would be the genesis of anything.

Preface:

In Uganda, people have great joy.

This is a general state of content joy, without conditions. (I think this is because when they have their NEEDS met, that is enough. There is not a confusion of needs verses wants here. There is not the bombardment of keeping up with the newest, latest, most awesome whatever because what they have works). BUT when a gift is given, such as a new backpack filled with scholastic material, an even greater joy and appreciation overflows.

Often this excitement and appreciation is expressed through this signature African call, “Ayeyeyeyeyeeee!”, hands waving around the air. With little tangible possessions, it is often not store-bought “things” that Ugandans give back as an expression of their appreciation, but rather crops or animals from their farms.

Back to the genesis:

During the season of summer teams, the children and staff of LCH were divided into 12 groups and sent out into the community to be a blessing to our neighbors, delivering Backpacks of Promise to 100 school going village children. (see post “It is better to give than to receive”)

My group went to one of the farther areas. Climbing up the side of the hill to find huts and mud houses settled among the tropical terrain is surprising. But at every home we were welcomed warmly, with chairs being rushed out for us to sit on and handshakes all around from everyone who was in the vicinity.

At one of the homes, after giving the backpack to the school aged child, the mother did not want us to leave empty handed. Instructing us to wait, she disappeared behind the house. We then heard her shouting for her daughter to go around the other side of the house. Everything happening in the local language, I was unaware of what was going on until one of our teachers instructs the LCH children I was with to help the mother chase down a chicken. And off they went. Running through the shrubs and coffee plants.

To catch a chicken you must be fast. And in true chicken hunting fashion, you must be willing to make the dive when the perfect timing and cornering has been accomplished. So, with laughter and cheers, I see Charles dart away behind the house. Then he appears again still following a white chicken. The next events happened quickly: a dive, a grab, a chicken screech, and Charles stands up victorious, chicken in hand. In ceremonious way, he handed the chicken to the village child who had received the backpack so that that child could hand the chicken to the LCH child who had given her the backpack, while kneeling to show appreciation and respect.

My team returned with 3 chickens that afternoon. And that was the last I thought about those chickens until about 2 months later….

In comes part 2 of the story:

I was moving around the LCH compound chatting with some of the girls when I looked over towards a small wooden structure near the administrator’s house and saw one of our boys, Charles intently looking inside. I knew that the structure was the “dog pen” for awhile but the puppies had now outgrow it. So I went over to see what he was looking at.

To my surprise, there were two hens and ten little chicks inside the pen.

I asked Charles whose chicks those were. He replied, “Mine. They are the ones we got in the village when we gave the backpacks. ”  A bit confused I inquired more. He began explaining to me that when we returned to LCH he had been looking after the hens. Then one laid an egg so he put it in the pen. Then another egg and so on.

Now let me say that Charles rarely speaks, at least to me. And as he was explaining, he completely lit up. He continued to explain that there are three boxes in the pen because all three hens we received are now laying eggs. So he keeps them in their boxes while he is at school and lets them out in the morning and evening so they can graze.

I pointed out an exceptionally white chick and told him that was my favorite. He said that the white hen it was with was not its mom. Curious, I asked how that could be. He said that the mom of my favorite chick had cracked its egg. Charles found it cracked, put it in a tin can, and somehow covered the can so that the ant would not get to the egg. Through his love and care this chick survived!

So now Charles has 3 hens and 10 chicks and I am so proud of him.