It has been a long time since I have written anything. Well, anything that I have published for others to read. For me, I find that I usually avoid sharing words these days for two reasons. One, the thought of the pain and the feelings that I know will well up, and it keeps me from starting. Sometimes it feels easier to stuff things down instead of letting it out. And the second reason is, I love people too much. You are probably trying to figure out why that second reason is a viable excuse. Let me share. Nowadays we live in a country that is completely divided. If you haven’t felt the weight of that then I am happy for you because for people who are highly empathetic and sensitive, most days I feel like that weight threatens to crush me. I love people. I don’t care what people think about me or how I live my life but I do care how my words make others feel. So I write and then it hides in my hard drive because lately I have felt like the cons have outweighed the pros in having my voice be heard. 

I felt like I couldn’t share how I was feeling during the pandemic because so many others had it so much worse. I felt like I could share my thoughts on covid because I had never had it or knew anyone who did. I didn’t feel like I had a right to share my hurt and pain because I was closing myself off from the hurt and pain of those around me. So, if you are reading this, be prepared to get a full download of what has been going on in my life lately. But also know that I try to choose my words carefully because I know we may not agree but I do love you and I do care about how you feel. Which is why I have waited to share until I had my own personal reasons for doing so.

9.27.2021

I woke up this morning feeling the full flood of exhaustion from last week/weekend. One of my sweet friends got married the other day. It was an amazing time filled with family, laughter, joy and love. Though, I found myself opening up my phone and vegging out on instagram. I gave myself an excuse at first because it’s my day off and I’m exhausted but as an hour went by I realized I needed to change course. I grabbed some coffee and my bible and headed back to my room. I picked up my phone, checked to see if a friend messaged me back on instagram and started deleting accounts I follow (of people I don’t actually know). I saw my link for my blog and read the last three things I had posted. Sitting there I realized my heart was heavy. The last thing I had written was right when covid started to become a thing. Now it’s been over a year and a half. My heart was heavy because I started to think about this last year and a half and how so many things went unplanned. So many people have suffered loss of broken relationships. So many people are hurting. I know I am just one person and my story is my story but I hope if you are here reading this you find some sort of comfort knowing that you are not alone. I hope that in the tears that fall while I write this story that you will feel the embrace of someone who, like you, has suffered through this time. Someone who also feels judged for sharing how they feel because it’s different from what seems to be like the rest of the world. 

July 26th 2021 I woke up with a sore throat and felt feverish. I didn’t think too much of it. But in reality in the back of my head the first thought to go through my mind was “this better not be covid”. I resumed my day as normal, plugging away at work (which before you yell at me for being at work when I didn’t feel good, please know that at this point I did not have a fever or any reason to believe I was exposed. Oh, and I work from home). Later that night my body started to ache. I was supposed to leave in 6 days to visit my family back in california for two weeks so I started pumping all the vitamins and everything because even if it was just a cold, i could let it take me down and keep me from my trip. The following morning two of my co-workers, who also happen to live in the same house as me, were sick so our weekly staff meeting was cancelled. I continued my day as normal but I started to feel a little feverish. That night I found out that a close family friend was exposed to someone who had covid. Wednesday morning that close family friend found out they had covid as well. Within 5 days I knew over twenty people who now all had covid. The first two days felt like a normal cold. By day three I had a fever of 102. A fever that would on day 7 spike to 103.9 and almost make me go to the ER. A fever that lasted 11 days straight with no relief. The night my fever spiked to its highest I started having a panic attack. The first time I had a fever that bad was 6 years ago when I was in Uganda. I was told my body was shutting down and they didnt know why. I went to bed not knowing if I was going to wake up. The doctors told me there was nothing more they could do for me but to let the medicine run its course and pray that it would work. The last time I had a fever that high I was in the Emergency room 5 years ago and the doctors were telling me the same thing they did in Uganda. I stayed in the hospital for 3 days until they referred me to an oncology doctor. I then spent the next 8 months trying to get to the bottom of a fever that almost killed me twice. So when I ended up with a fever that high during covid and I could hardly lift my head to swallow fever-reducing medicine, I thought back to the last two times and yes, I thought I was going to die. I went to bed not knowing how I would fare overnight. I just prayed. After 10 hours it finally broke and I woke up drenched in sweat thinking the worst was behind me. 

The next day I felt like I had run a marathon. I couldn’t even stand up straight when walking to the bathroom. By midday my lower back felt like it was broken. Now before you say “how do you even know what that feels like” well, I have actually broken my back before, so… As the day progressed the pain got worse. I found myself confined to my bed. Around 7pm that day I fell asleep. Exhausted by the restless sleep of my fever the night before. At 9pm I woke up because I was choking, I had stopped breathing in my sleep. I was a little freaked out but too tired to give it any thought and fell back asleep about a half hour later. At 11 pm I woke up choking again because I had stopped breathing again. This time I really started to freak out. I was afraid of going back to sleep because I had this looming feeling that if I fell asleep again I might stop breathing and not wake up the next time. The pain in my back continued to get worse and worse. At midnight I took a strong pain killer I had on hand from when I broke my nose earlier in the year. By 3 am I was ready to go to the emergency room because the pain killer hadn’t even put a dent in the pain. In fact it continued to get worse. Everytime I moved, tears fell from my eyes because it was unbearable. I didn’t remember which emergency room took my insurance so I was going to text a friend and ask. I figured 5am was an ok time to ask. I could wait 2 more hours before going. All the while I’m laying in bed letting my mind go crazy. I have a tumor on my spine. That has to be it. I finally got an ice pack out of the freezer and layed on it, it was the only thing that took the edge off. I fell asleep 30 minutes later. Waking up to an ice burned back, but manageable pain; I no longer thought I had a tumor eating my spine and decided to not go to the ER. Those were the worst days for me. While I had it bad for a few days I considered myself lucky.I never had the cough or had a hard time breathing. Sure I was weak and lost my breath walking from one side of the room to the other but my oxygen stayed stable.

I was lucky and I know it. Others who I know got sick, were pretty bad. Friends of mine were turned away from the hospital even when their oxygen was low and they couldn’t breath. A dear friend had an issue that covid made worse and couldn’t stop bleeding from a wound. I thought I was going to lose them. I had to take them to the hospital because their family wasn’t in town. Another family friend ended up staying in the hospital for more than 3 weeks with pneumonia in both lungs and there was a period of time when we didn’t know if they would make it. I don’t share about these things because it’s hard. Very real emotions are coming up for me. 

On one hand all my blood family is in different states and I was afraid to tell them I got sick and on the other hand my friend’s family is all being violently attacked by this virus. I haven’t shared about this and the weight it has carried because I’ve been afraid of people saying “you brought it upon yourself, you should have been vaccinated”. I’ve been afraid of those words because it makes me mad. I’ve been afraid because I haven’t known if I could trust myself from not saying mean or hurtful things back to them. I’ve been afraid because I’ve been hurt. But I am choosing to tell my story, because whether we agree with each other or not, everyone has a right to have a voice. So this is mine. I’m speaking up.

Covid has robbed me of my joy. 

Side note:

Now before you read too much into that please know that I know my joy does not come from things of this world. My hope and joy come from above. I’ll be real honest with you though, I have no idea how people are making it through this season if they don’t have a relationship with the Lord because I feel like sometimes I am barely hanging on and He is the reason I am able to.

I moved to a new place. Hoping to start a new life and adventure. After months of moving up here I lost my job. A few months later I got a terrible sinus infection. Thanks to the unreasonable mask mandates I have had a sinus infection for 8 out of the 18 months of covid. If you have never had one of those you are lucky. If you have, maybe you have experienced my pain. 

I have dealt with irrational fear, anxiety and PTSD brought on by not seeing people’s faces (cue in everyone who has ever been attacked by someone). I have had to cancel two trips back “home” to visit family because of covid lock downs or actually getting the virus. I have not hugged my dad in almost two years and I have never met my niece who will be two in November. 

I have been judged, ridiculed and yelled at for my choices of not wearing a mask (which by the way, I am respectful and wear them for people who ask me to). I have been made to feel like a horrible person by choosing not to get the vaccine (which, my health is my own personal decision but just so you all know I literally had a medical doctor tell me several years ago that my body had a vaccine injury that now causes all my current health issues and that I should be very cautious to not get vaccines in the future). Plus on top of all of that I still have residual effects from the virus itself. 

It is so hard for me to sit here and not feel the weight of all these things. Because this is my story, my life. The lives of those I care most about. But I also feel like I am being made a bad person for trying to find joy and happiness while choosing to do what I know is best for my body and how I know how to recover. I live my life by this motto, treat others as you would like to be treated. It is the “golden rule” that I know everyone my age and older has at least heard about. I am just wondering where it went? Why do we live in a nation so divided. Why do we shame and throw hate on others? If you have an opposite opinion than I do, great, let’s talk about it. Please don’t say I am being selfish because I would take a bullet in a heartbeat for any one of my friends and I pray often that I’d have the courage to do it for strangers as well. 

If you have made it this far into my blog post, thank you. I appreciate you taking the time to read all the way through. If you want to talk, I’d love to. If you want to understand why I feel the way I do, please ask. Let’s have a conversation. Let’s stop treating people like statistics and bring humanity back into our interactions. I chose to love God and love people and I am doing that the best way I know how. I’ve said this on other platforms before but just so we are clear, if you are unvaccinated I support you. If you are vaccinated, I also support you. You chose what is best for you, just please don’t choose what is best for me because you don’t know what my body needs. 

If you are reading this and you feel seen, also know you are loved and your voice matters. If you are reading this and you feel angry or upset, that’s ok too. Maybe ask yourself why you feel that way. I found myself getting so mad at people for sharing their opinions and I realized it was because I felt like my voice didn’t matter, which is why I am writing this. You don’t have to like it, but this is me. Being vulnerable, extending truth and kindness and proposing a question to everyone asking “why can’t we all just try to love each other a little better?”

It’s funny how in a single moment everything can change. One second you are sitting on the couch reading a book and the next you are transported through space to a different time and place. A moment so real you can hear the noises of things you once saw. A memory so vivid you can smell the warm humid air as it kisses your face. I find myself transporting to these moments quite frequently.

I sat on the back of a boda as it raced down the dusty dirt road. I was supposed to be wearing a helmet, especially on long rides like this but I loved the way the wind felt against my face. It offered a sweet sense of relief from the scorching hot sun that beat down on my pale skin. I held tight to the bar behind where I sat, clinging on for dear life in hopes to not fall off or lose my balance as the boda driver maneuvered through the slippery pothole ridden terrain. It wasn’t culturally appropriate to hold onto your driver like it is here in the states, or so I was told.

This drive was my favorite. Although, I didn’t do it often because trusty boda drivers were hard to come by and paying my driver to wait or come back for me was a pretty penny. So when I had the opportunity, I took it. As we drove along the street my heart was filled with the simplicities this life has to offer. Children waving a sweet hello or chasing a rolling tire, keeping it going with a stick. A jaja sitting on the porch of her house watching the world pass by. A man unloading one of many bags of coal piled high on his own boda. A mother hanging up clothes to dry. This ride was my favorite because it put me right smack in the middle of village life. Where goats and cows roam freely and often stop traffic and people greet you with smiles and say “you are most welcome.”

Many times I have these memories come flooding back only to feel overwhelmed with emotions. I often try to write about them and record them to look back on but I feel as though no amount of words ever read can capture the essence of it all. It’s like trying to describe a soul to someone who has never heard the word before. How can I put enough words in writing about a place so complex it is simple and do it justice?

After I arrived to my destination I hopped off the boda and paid my driver. Standing, thankful I did not wipe out on the way. Falling off a boda is no fun. Believe me, I’ve done it and I still have the scars to show from it. Covered in red dust I wiped my face on my skirt to remove the very “oompa loompa”  like look I was wearing. Then I set off down the path.

As I sat down in the tall grass I gazed out at the Nile river. People travel all over the world to see this and here I was, looking at it for one last time before I left for home. Although looking back I knew that the word “home” would never hold the same weight it once had. Home would no longer be my small little town in Sonoma County where I grew up. In fact I would never really feel at “home” ever again in this crazy life, because home is where your heart is and I was leaving part of mine in this field. Tucked away, buried beneath the dark red soil that beat to the rhythm of the Nile’s current.

It’s a funny thing really. Talking to people about this place. A place where I fell in love. With Jesus, people, nature and myself. I learned more in those six months than I have learned in my entire life and yet I struggle to put into words a single thing that happened. Every story is a mixed bag. Full of hurt, happy, and sometimes anger and freight. A friend once told me the deeper you feel pain and allow yourself to truly feel it, the deeper your happiness will also be. I agree 110%. Although, I find that people are afraid to feel the pain that so often comes before the happiness that they just settle for a life without both and live being comfortable. I think that is why I have such a hard time expressing in words how I feel. In Uganda people wore their lives with pride because there was no other option. They owned their trials and sufferings because hiding from them meant falling deeper into it. They shared their hurt because it was too heavy to carry alone. I try to walk that out here but it is hard because we get so distracted by the trivial things of everyday life we lose sight of what matters most. Loving Jesus and Loving People. Nothing else really matters.

 

So as these flashback moments come I am going to try harder to write them down to share because I think it is important to hear people’s stories and learn from each other. But, with that being said, there are a lot of things that happened that not many people know about. The reason I nearly jump out of my skin when a car backfires or the reason my heart starts racing when I think someone is following me. Some of these memories are deep roots of pain and sorrow in my life but I have realized that by not sharing them I am not allowing myself to live in the happy moments of it either.

 

So read along if you would like but don’t get offended if I speak some raw truth too.

 

I’ve sat down so many times to write this post, for weeks I’ve entertained the thoughts as they have mulled around in my head, I written pieces, broken up memories and things that have happened not knowing how to formulate them into words that others may want to read. How do you write about a place where the concept of time is so warped? I have been here for 4 months but when I try to recount everything that has happened since my last post a little less than a month ago it seems as though years have gone by. Years filled with growth, pain, wrestling, very little understanding and a whole lot of love.So much has happened but I wanted to take the time to focus on fear and how for the first time in my life I have faced fear head on. 

It all started the day the Sole Hope staff was invited to go bungee jumping. I signed up, I was going to do it. Absolutely terrified of heights I knew I had to convince myself somehow to do it. I decided to make a promise with God. I said, “alright Lord, this is me, standing on the edge of my fears, on the edge of the unknown but I am going to jump. I am going to take a leap of faith and do whatever it is that you have called me to do. Even if it means facing my biggest fears.” Sure enough, I got up to the platform and my knees started shaking. I was so scared I felt like I was going to pass out. In fact, I actually did. At this point in my life stepping off that ledge was the most terrifying thing I had ever done. So surely, I could do whatever God wanted me to do from here on out.

Weeks passed and things were going as usual. Just trying to steward my time here the best I could. Then something happened that I will never forget. I took half a day off to help my friend shoot some photos around town for a portfolio she was trying to build. We walked all over town and then she offered to take some photos of me (which I usually hate having my photo taken but I thought sure, why not). I wanted to take photos in the park with these trees. We were coming to the end of our “photoshoot” and I wanted a photo of me jumping up in the air on a red dirt path, just for fun. So, we both put our bags on the ground and had fun trying to capture the moment. All of a sudden, these two men come out from nowhere and walk by us, I greeted them, said hello and they kept walking. Didn’t think anything of it. Just like I never have.

I grew up with a dad who was in the coast guard and then a parole officer and he instilled it in me to always be aware of my surroundings. I always thought he was crazy but I spent a good majority of my time growing up always having an exit plan, always knowing who was near me, always watching over my shoulder. Never suspecting anyone of anything unless they gave me reason to. Always watching everyone. My mom taught me to always listen to my gut, another thing I thought to be overrated and useless. And yet today would be the day that both these things proved their worth.

As the men walked further and farther from us they eventually stopped. They were pretty far away but close enough for me to see them staring at us. I kept my eye on them just thinking they probably thought we were funny or amusing taking photos. We had been getting odd looks and stares from Ugandans the entire morning in town so I didn’t think much of it. we continued doing what we were doing and when I went to look back the guys were gone. I assumed they had moved on and kept walking. Then all of a sudden out of the corner of my eye I see them walking back towards us. I knew that very second that something wasn’t right. I told my friend “We need to go”. She said she almost had the phot she wanted and to keep going. I grabbed my bag from the ground and I said, “we need to go now”. She looked in the direction the guys were coming from and with a half laugh she said “why, is it because of those guys?” But at this point they were now within ear shot of our conversation. I didn’t want them to think that I was afraid of them or suspecting anything because I still didn’t want to believe anything bad was going to happen but my gut was telling me something else. I told her “I just want to take photos over there”. We started walking towards the two men. Because walking the other way would be going further away from people and farther into this park. As we passed them they asked us to take their photo. I said “No, sorry I can’t we have to go.” Hoping that that was the reason they walked back to us we kept walking. I turned to look back after a few steps and noticed they had stopped walking and were once again staring at us. I still didn’t think anything of it, other than feeling sick to my stomach with fear.

Then, all of a sudden, I feel my bag being pulled on. One of the men had come up behind me and tried to rip my bag off my shoulder. He pulled so hard that I stumbled a few feet backwards. Looking back, I think he grabbed for my bag instead of my friends because he must have thought he could break the strap. I turned around and I yelled at him “GO! GET OUT OF HERE!” he still didn’t leave, he stood there staring at us, almost assessing if we would fight back. My friend raised her fist and screamed. You know the kind of crazy scream that freaks people out. Yet, he stood there just staring. I planted my feet firm and I shoved him as hard as I could. He stumbled back a few steps and then the rest is really a blur. My friend and I walked to a boda (motorcycle taxi) we saw close and asked him to take us into town. I was shaking. Surely, I have never been this afraid in my life.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who has thought “how will I react if _______ happens?” They say there are three responses, flight, fight or freeze. I always hoped I would be a fighter or even flight but I worried that when it came down to it I would freeze. And in some ways, I did and I hated myself for it. I froze in the moment. It wasn’t until my friend screamed that I shoved the guy. I didn’t sleep for over a week. Every time I closed my eyes I replayed the scenario over and over again. Why didn’t I run after I shoved the guy? Why didn’t I punch him in the face? My dad had taught me how to defend myself in case I was ever attacked and yet I didn’t use any of it. What would have happened if he had a weapon? What would have happened if the other man joined in? We would not have stood a chance. What would have happened if his intentions were more than just stealing from us? My mind wondered and raced. I became a victim of fear. A fear that would cling on and take over my life for the next several weeks.

It took me just over a week before I started to get a footing back over my sleep and my “always looking over my shoulder” fears. Then I got word of devastating news from back home. Homes were being burnt to the ground. The worst fire California has ever seen. Destroying the hillsides, I used to drive by. Making my friends evacuate their houses. Burning down homes of thousands and taking the lives many. I laid in my bed til 12 or 1am, sometimes even later trying to get the latest news. Finally, I would pass out from exhaustion only to wake up in a sweat 3-4 hours later to updates on my phone about how another family I knew was evacuating or another home was destroyed. Fear again took over my life. Anxiety became a threat. I felt so helpless, I wanted to leave Uganda and come home. I couldn’t bear to watch my home burn up from a far. I wanted to be there in the midst of it all. I lost sleep reading the news and Facebook updates. Dark circles started to form under my eyes as stayed awake tossing and turning all night.

Again, plagued by fear and anxiety that was so bad it was starting to consume me. I wasn’t sleeping, and I started to get sick. I even started to mildly hallucinate from sleep deprivation and anxiety that was so severe I felt like I was drowning. I had stopped wrestling with God and just started to become stagnant and too tired to press in. Someone would walk up behind me and it would scare me so bad I would drop to my knees completely weak from fear. I just wanted to come home. I wanted to sleep in a familiar bed where I didn’t hear gunshots, I wanted to walk down a familiar street where I wasn’t afraid of being attacked. I wanted to fade away into my bed.

Then I got sick. Everything had finally caught up to me. I thought I had malaria, or something else more severe but blood tests barely showed any sign of my body fighting off a virus or bacterial. Yet I laid in bed for 6 days with a fever, body aches that were so bad I could hardly move. My head felt like it was going to explode. I felt like I was dwindling away into nothing, shriveling up. As the days went on I just slept. I felt like I was under a sleeping curse. I would sleep for hours during the day and still be exhausted. I saw no way out. It felt like I was going to be like this for the remaining time I was here. I’ve been really sick while I’ve been here before but this time it felt different. My body felt like it was just shutting down and turning off.

I started to get my strength back around day 7, I finally got out of bed and tried doing some errands and things. During that time, I couldn’t help but to think that my body was physically shutting down because I had run it down so much that it had no other option but to turn off its switch. It needed rest. After coming out of what felt like a mini coma I felt lost. I felt like I had wasted so much time in bed that there was no point in going back to the life I had been living. Then a small whisper, “Be still, let go”. God wanted me to just give it all up. All my fears, all my worries, my stress and anxiety. Slowly but surely, He began to show me that when I try to wrestle with these things on my own I will always end up defeated. My body will eventually flip the switch and I will have to take a “time out”.

My first instinct is to always tackle things on my own first but He reminds me that if I am going to wrestle, I might as well wrestle with Him (read my previous post). God never leaves us on our own, but sometimes when we lose sight of Him we feel as though we are alone in the fight. So, I’m learning that the only way to win this match is to give it to God and let Him fight it with me. When you invite God into your darkest moments He brings the light. Without Him you fight alone in the dark, and you can’t beat an enemy you cannot see. Let Him come and shine a light in your darkness and help you through it. We all have our stubborn tendencies and many times I wish it didn’t take me so long to let Him in but when I do, the wind is always brought back into my sails. We just need to remember to reach out to God.

This post if from a journal entry I wrote several weeks ago (almost a month now). I had wanted to put it into a blog but struggled to find the words. Like I do with many of my blog posts. 

There is never a shortness of trials and hard circumstances here. Every day is another day where you have to fight to keep pressing on and pressing into God. I had recently been talking with a friend about how I was studying the old testament and for the first time I became very interested by the story of those in the old testament. About Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. She told me “that is so cool, one of the bible studies being done is on the life of Jacob for the fall at our church.” I immediately got excited because I had found particular interest in his Story. I found myself tearing apart chapter after chapter of his story and walking away from it with such insight and understanding. Studying the bible in a whole new way. It sparked something new in me.
I was like Jacob, I found myself wrestling with God. I wanted Him to give me answers, I wanted Him to pour out His blessing on me. I wasn’t going to let go and stop until He did. When I was surrounded by pain and heartache of those I knew. When I questioned my very purpose for being in Uganda. When I ran through the rain storm crying out to Him. I wrestled. I questioned whether His intentions were really good or not. As I wrestled with Him, His grip grew tighter and tighter. I found that the more I wrestled with Him the deeper my understanding of His character became and the more I desired to study His word. God met me in my moments of wrestling and frustration. But just like Jacob, I too walked away with a limb. I walked away with a deeper understanding of who He was but it came with a price. To see others the way God sees them, to witness pain like He does. To love others like He wants me to. All beautiful things but things that left me hurting in a new way.

God opened my eyes to see His heart for His people. The reason why I had felt so alone was because I was trying to make it through these hard things without Him. He showed me that my heart needed to be in a place willing to receive everything, even if it’s painful. He didn’t give me the easy answer I wanted but He showed up. He wanted me to trust Him. The kind of trust that Abraham had when the Lord asked him to give up his only son. I began to see that wrestling with God was what I needed to do in order to grow this unshakable blind faith.

God has been revealing so much to me. From when I met a friend who would share with me the promise of how God gives beauty for ashes. How sitting in someone else’s pain and heartache would bring me into my own healing and deeper trust. Taking my bitter and hard heart and bringing it back to life.

Sitting in the pain with others having to tell them that God is love, that He is good. In the midst of trying to show His character to others I found myself learning to believe it more and more for myself. I found that in the times I wrestle with God and throw up my fists in frustration He doesn’t give me an easy way out, I leave feeling broken and exhausted but I also leave with a deeper understanding of Him. He shows me who it is He wants me to be. I used to think that it was bad, to wrestle with God. To demand Him to show up. Yet, in my times of wrestling I have found God show up in bigger and better ways than I ever thought He could.

It would be this wrestling with God that would bring me back to a place where I wasn’t drowning when I would later suffer from an overwhelming amount of anxiety and stress. I found myself giving up because it became too hard but he would reach out and touch my heart and remind me to keep pressing in, to keep wrestling. To keep demanding Him to show up. He would remind me that even when the enemy would overwhelm me with circumstances of intense fear that I needed to keep fighting. To keep seeking Him. That even though I had forgotten how to He would bring my weary soul back to life,

“This is Africa.” He said with a shaky voice after nearly jumping out of his skin. I stood on the 3^rd floor of central market, with a friend, shopping for a birthday present. We were looking through clothes and all of a sudden, a large boom thundered about the air. Everyone I saw nearly jumped out of their skin, including myself and my friend. As my heart just about flew out of my chest I asked the man selling us the clothes what the sound was.

“It was not gunfire, don’t worry.”

“I know it wasn’t gunfire, but what was that sound?”

“Tear gas. They must be protesting outside.”

I stood with my friend and we asked each other if we should leave. We now couldn’t decide if it was safer to stay up on the top floor or to try and get to one of the exits downstairs not knowing what awaited us. At this point I was fine, maybe it was because I have had my fair share of waking up to the sound of gunfire the last few weeks or maybe it was because I felt a false sense of security being higher than where the sound came from.

“Are we safe? Do we need to leave?” we both asked the man who now also seemed to be quite fine.

“This is Africa.” He responded. “These things happen.”

He didn’t answer our question. But by not answering it, in a way, he kind of did. I have spent almost 3 months here now and I have to constantly remind myself where I am. I am indeed in Africa. A place I have learned to call home. One filled with beautiful people who I have come to know and love. Where I work alongside people who have a different skin color than me and yet they are like family. A place where each night I see the miraculously painted sunset and I’m reminded that no matter where you are in the world we are surrounded by beauty if we take the time to see it. Yet, at the same time I have woken up to gunfire at night paralyzed with fear. My grocery stores and ATMs have armed guards who sit out front. I’ve Seen police cars speeding down the street in riot gear, and stood on the top floor of a building full of thousands of people when tear gas has gone off and didn’t know what to do.

I have been pushed out of my comfort zone in so many ways here. I knew where I was coming when I hopped on the plane. I knew that I was going where both my heart and spirit felt called to go. And while I have been to this beautiful country before, nothing could have prepared me for what I would face when it came to living here.

I travelled to western Uganda on a 5-day jigger removal clinic with 13 staff members and a new friend. It was on that trip that I realized that the people I was with were like family. As we traversed the steep mountainsides I battled the thoughts raging in my mind. I held onto the door handle ready to jump out if the car started to go over the cliff. The fear of dying actually became real as our car lost brakes and slid down the road twice. As I gripped the door handle until my knuckles turned white I thought of two things. One, I don’t want to die, especially not like this. Two, if I jumped out I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I was the only one to survive. Four days on the road battling these thoughts and I felt like my heart was going to explode. My compacity for faith and trust grew exponentially. I had to trust and have faith in my driver. I had to have faith and trust that God called me to be in that moment and that whatever happened was in His hands. I had to give up control and roll with the punches, even when they knocked me off my feet and took the breath out of my lungs.

There is a song that I heard shortly before coming here. It’s called “Heart Like You”. I made it my prayer for while I was here.

“Heart Like You”

“Burn bright

In my life

Burn away the things

I hold tight

Give me

Eyes to see

Your Kingdom

The way You want it

To be

What can be worth more than You

What do I have I wouldn’t lose

If it means You and I

Look more alike

That’s what I chose

I’d give up the world to find my soul

Pour out my life, give You control

I just want to be what You want me to be

I just want a heart that’s true

A heart like You

I just want a heart like You

As Your waves

Take shape

All my guilt

And shame

Start to fade

And Your love

Takes their place

I become a well

Of Your grace, Your grace

 

I’d give up the world to find my soul

Pour out my life, give You control

I just want to be what You want me to be

I just want a heart that’s true

A heart like You

I just want a heart like You

I don’t mind the price it costs

I will count all I have as lost

When this fades away, what’s true remains

What can be worth more than You

What do I have I wouldn’t lose”

 

Had I known what the answer to this prayer was, I might not have prayed it.

 

I held a new friend as she wept uncontrollably after losing a third sibling.  I had sat down with her the week before as she told me about the loss of her other two siblings earlier in the year and I prayed for her sister who was sick. She came up to me on the day she lost her sister when she saw me and she held me tighter than I had ever been held before. I could barely breathe. As she cried she said “I need you to be strong for me. Please, I can’t do this anymore.” I held her just as tight and I wept with her. “Why is God doing this to me? Why is He punishing me? I can’t, no more, no more.” She cried out. It was in that moment I learned what it meant to have “a heart like you”. I sat with her in the midst of her pain and suffering knowing that the only thing I could say was “God is a God of love, He loves you, He is not punishing you.” I Felt her pain as though it was my own. My heart has never hurt that bad before.

After she left to go bury her sister I sat in complete confusion. What was going on? Why did I feel this way? I had been with people in pain and suffering before but somehow instead of sitting next to her pain I was sitting right in the middle of it with her. “Is this what you feel God? When your children hurt? When they are in pain?”

A few weeks later I found myself hugging another friend the day after she lost her newborn baby knowing that no matter what anyone would say, the hole in her heart would never be filled. The night it happened I received a text with the information and I wanted to punch a hole in the wall. I was beyond angry. I decided to go on a walk. I ended up having a screaming match with God. I questioned whether He was even real. In fact, I made Him prove to me that He was. I prayed “God if you are real you better show me because I’m so close to throwing in the towel and running as far away from you as I can. If you are real I dare you to first let me run into someone I know. If I run into someone I know then I won’t give up on you yet.” As I continued walking down the street, sure enough a family I knew from the church I had been attending drove up next to me and offered me a ride. I turned it down because I wasn’t done “yelling at God” yet. But at least it gave me the motivation to keep yelling out to Him.

By this time, it had started to rain. I then again threw up my voice to God. “Really, is this all you have? My friend lost her baby and if these are your tears they are weak. Do you really even care? When Jesus died you darkened and shook the earth but He came back to life. She will never see her daughter again in this life. How can you let that happen? If you actually care about her then make it pour. Make it rain harder than it has ever rained before.” I continued saying this over and over again, as it rained harder and harder I kept saying “Is that all you got? I dare you to make it rain harder.” I soon became soaking wet. By the time I got to the street I lived on, the roads had become red rivers flooding over my feet. I began to run. Unable to see more than a few feet ahead of me because it was raining so hard. Thunder cracked so loud I felt it in my chest. Lightening flashed across the sky. As I approached the gate it started to hail. I ran faster and faster, each step slashing water up into my face. I finally got under my covered porch as the hail became painful. I had to take off my outer layers because I looked like I had just jumped into a pool with all my clothes on. I dried off and sat on the porch thanking God for answering my prayer but still mad at him. I learned in this moment that God can answer prayers and reveal Himself to us even when we feel lie He has abandoned us.

It’s hard to process things here because as soon as you feel like you can handle one heartache another one falls into your lap. Another friend loses their child, friend, sibling, parent. It never ends. It never gets easier. It breaks your heart more and more each time.

I had let my heart become angry, I got frustrated. I wanted to give up. I knew God was in the midst of it but He wasn’t showing up like I wanted Him to.

“Pop, pop, pop,” I woke up shaking in my bed. My heart racing. Was that gunfire? “pop, pop.”  Yes, it most definitely was. I covered my face as the dogs started barking and a car alarm went off. “what do I do? Do I get under my bed?” It was 1am and I was so scared I wanted to throw up. I eventually ventured out with one of my roommates and we asked the guard on our porch what the noise was. “It was gunfire, they were shooting at a thief over there.” He pointed to the wall connecting our compound to the one behind us. I hardly slept the rest of the night. My body coursing with fear and adrenaline. As a matter of fact, I hardly slept the rest of the week. To make matters worse several nights following that one I woke up to the sound of gunfire once again although this time it was further off in the distance. I was too afraid to sleep in the dark but too afraid to sleep with a light on, fearing that someone would then come look into my window. I wanted to disappear, to fade into my bed and hide. It took about two weeks to feel comfortable sleeping again. And even now I still wake up to the sounds of the night wondering what is going on outside.

I was emotionally drained, so far out of my comfort zone and there was nothing I could do about it. I was stuck in a country on the other side of the world and all I wanted to do was be home, hug my mom and cry. I craved something familiar, comfortable and safe. I found myself completely alone even though I was surrounded by people. Instead of running towards connection I ran away. I didn’t know how to process everything that was going on around me, I didn’t know how to talk about it. it slowly began to build up until it started to crush me beneath the weight of it all. I found myself sleeping more but waking up in terror from dreams and sounds. I wanted to throw in the towel and give up but I didn’t want anyone to know.

In attempt to get my mind off things I started reading the last three books of the Chronicles of Narnia series. I read how when Eustace was a dragon and tried to shed his own scales he was helpless, only Aslan was strong enough to rip them off and bring him back to human form. How a small mouse named Reepicheep had faith enough to go to the end of the world not knowing what was there other than he wouldn’t return and believed that Aslan was there. When “courage dear heart” was whispered to Lucy and she knew that she wasn’t alone. The moment Puddleglum said “there are no accidents, our guide is Aslan.” How Jill drank out of the stream even though she was terrified because Aslan told her it was the only one. The faith that was shown when the words were uttered “I am on Aslan’s side even there isn’t any Aslan to lead it.” Knowing Aslan said, “you would not have called to me unless I had been calling to you.”

In “The Last Battle I “found myself in tears when the last king of Narnia said, “We must go on and take the adventure that comes to us.” Knowing that they were walking into what could have very well been their death. I found my spirit slowly being lifted.

For the first time in a while, I realized that God speaks to us in funny ways sometimes. This time He spoke to me through children’s books.  In the book God is represented as Aslan the Lion. He is the most glorious creature in all of Narnia. Unpredictable, powerful and majestic. He asks the characters to go on some pretty scary journeys and while sometimes though they think he has abandoned them they realize that he always shows up eventually when it’s in his timing to do so.

I kept asking “Where is God? Why has He abandoned me? Why can’t I hear from Him? Why is has He gone silent?” Then He showed up. A staff member told me he liked to draw. I asked him to draw me a picture. He drew a lion. I met a lady form Australia who treated me to a resort for the day. On the way there, she somehow talked about a lion. It was the first time in a while I got to go somewhere and relax in a beautiful place.  I opened up my IPad to draw a picture and there was one of a lion I had done almost 6 months ago, I had forgotten it was there. I was about to sit down in a seat I had been sitting in almost every day since I had been here but this time I noticed that on the pillow case there was a lion.

I received a package from home that I thought would never get to me. It could not have come at a better time. Then a friend emailed me and recommended a new song album to listen to and its basically been on repeat the last few weeks.

Then a group of ladies came and stayed at the guest house who were here to pour into the local missionaries and help with healing from trauma. I was at lunch one day and I recognized one of them so I asked her if she wanted to sit with my friends and I as she waited for her take away order. The first time I had ever met her. Later that evening we ended up talking for several hours. She was a direct answer to prayer. I had known her for less than 24 hours and God used her to put the wind back into my sails. She shared with me the story of Lazarus and how before Jesus raised him from the dead He wept with those who were weeping. She told me that God calls certain people to be tomb dwellers and it sucks. It’s painful, hard and at times agonizing but when you sit with people in the midst of their trauma and pain then you also have the opportunity to see the miracles happen. Jesus could have told them to stop weeping because He knew that he was going to bring Lazarus back to life but He didn’t. He wept, He sat in their pain, and then He brought him back and got to sit in the aftermath of the miracle. When she told me this it was a game changer. It totally flipped my world upside down in the best way.

Then the day they were leaving two other ladies came up to me and spoke words I felt were also directly from God. One said, “I feel like the Lord wants me to tell you it’s ok to be mad, He can handle it.” the other one came up to me, gave me a notebook and said “I don’t know why I brought this journal with me but I felt like I need to give it to you, I’ve been carrying it around for years. Maybe because I am supposed to give it to you. Maybe this is the beginning of a new journey for you.” Little did she know that I had just talked to a friend just a moment before, about the need to write down everything that has been going on.

You see God showed up. It wasn’t how I thought it would be but it was what I needed. I had started to doubt my purpose here. I knew from the first moment this trip became an opportunity that it was one I needed to jump into. I didn’t know what it would look like or how I would be able to help anyone. God had literally pulled me out my own chaos and hardships back home and He threw me into the fire. He told me “It’s going to hurt but you will not be burned.” So that’s what I am trying to do. I’m trying to walk through the fire but the fear of being burned has made me hesitant. It is painful, its hard and many times I want to run away and give up but I have to trust that God has a plan in all of it even though I don’t always see it at first.

So, I know most of you who took the time to read this all the way to the end probably had no idea that all this had been going on. My Facebook and Instagram seem to portray things as being quite well. I’m sorry it took so long to share what has really been going on but I have sat down to write several times over the past few weeks and never knew how to actually get words out. I never made it more than two sentences before I got stuck and gave up. So, there you have it. Things are crazy, unpredictable, hard and completely life giving and awesome at the same time. It’s a lot to process but I am trying to. After all, this is Africa. Its good at keeping you on your toes and knocking you down when you least expect it. Yet, when it knocks you down it shows you that if you are willing to get back up and trust in God that you will learn to live a life full of meaning and purpose.

It’s a constant battle to get back on my feet. I feel like I been in a wrestling match since I got here. I’m worn down, exhausted and trying to process and learn what it is God called me here for. God has called me to be a tomb dweller. to sit with people in their pain and suffering. There is no denying that. It is the hardest thing to do but also the most rewarding. I am excited to see how the next two months play out with keeping this at the forefront of my mind. I love this beautiful country and everything about it. I am excited to see where the path from here leads. Only God knows the answer to that and I just have to remember to just keep putting one foot in front of the other and moving forward.

Last night my roommate Emily and I did something I would never thought we would do. We walked out on the street at night.We were told when we got here never to walk anywhere at night.

We had walked over to a small restaurant 5 minutes down the road to meet one of Emily’s new running friends to do a bible study of sorts. She assured me that he would walk us home (because bodas do not drive in the rain). I still wasn’t happy about it but I figured if we were with a local Ugandan than our odds were better. 

As we sat at the table waiting for him to arrive we ordered some buttered naan and watched the sky light up with the lightning. I love it here when it storms because sometimes there will be a ton of lightning and hardly any thunder (because I hate thunder).

Anyways we waited for 20 minutes and he never showed. The kitchen got backed up so by the time our naan had come out we got it to go. 40 minutes later, still no friend of hers. It was hardly sprinkling so we called our favorite boda guy, offering to pay him quite well… but because of the rain he had gone home for the night. What were we going to do?

We decided that since it’s raining there would probably be hardly anyone on the streets. And it was only 7:45 so it wasn’t too late. So we started walking back.

Growing up my dad had always told us to be aware of our surroundings. Taught us tricks to get out of sticky situations and what to do in case of emergencies. It wasn’t a traditional childhood but I am forever grateful because I think about things differently than others and it HAS gotten me out of some sticky situations before. So as we walked down the street I closed the umbrella and walked with it in one hand, a girl on a mission. 

I didn’t really feel scared but I had heard some stories and I wasn’t about to become one of them. I walked with a pace that made Emily fall behind, so I kept telling her to hurry up and walk faster. I probably didn’t sound very nice but oh well, I apologized later.

It was pitch black, no street lights to guide us, no stars to show us the way. 

I picked up my feet like I was marching because I couldn’t see the road and didn’t want to trip and fall. Which I do on a normal day because the roads are littered with potholes. This time the potholes were filled with water so you couldn’t really even see where was a safe place to step. As we walked the only light guiding our path was the lightning that would flash every minute or two. It would give us enough light to see what the next few steps were in front of us so we could walk safely. 

It reminded me of 2 Corinthians 5:7

“Walk by faith, not by sight”.
I literally had no sight. Only enough to make sure that my next 4 or 5 steps were on firm ground(not a puddle or a ditch) because of the flashes of lightning.

It’s funny because when I think about this whole Uganda trip and everything I’ve done in life the last 3 years even, it’s always been a leap of faith. I thought that when I got here the blindfold would be taken off and I would see my purpose and long term hope lay in the near distance but that has not quite been my reality. Everyday God gives me a small glimpse of what is to come which makes Him seem so very far away. Some days I don’t even get a glimpse. I’m just told to keep walking. So I do. I walk because of faith. Faith and hope that I am exactly where I need to be even though I don’t see it yet. God does, He knows the answers. And while I may not have anything but my faith I’m learning that God is growing that faith, it gets stronger each and everyday. The type of faith that can move mountains!

So for now I walk not by sight but by faith, with a little help from lightning.​