Still Learning

Did you hear about the one where a blonde got locked in a hospital room?

No pneumonia! They give these out at the hospital!

I had been down with a serious case of bronchitis for a while, so Carolyn finally decided to send me to Kampala for a chest x-ray. After finishing, the doctor left to go read the negatives, and I sat. I read my book for an hour and finally decided to go sit with my friend Sarah in the waiting room. However, the door was locked! I knocked but the door was thick wood and it barely made a noise. I finally gave up and sat for another hour. Carolyn called and when I told her my predicament, she called the hospital. Just as Sarah was coming for me, I slid my hand on the door and felt it move. It was a sliding door. The doctors had forgotten about me and thankfully too embarrassed about their mistake to make fun of me. Sarah and I sure had a good laugh in the waiting room!

Rhoda, poor girl has bed bugs

I love making cinnamon rolls. However, instead of putting 3 1/2 cups of flour in the dough, I used 3 1/2 cups of baking powder. Now, don't ask me why we had 3 1/2 cups of baking powder, or why I didn't notice it beforehand, but it's safe to assume the rolls didn't turn out to my standard.

David, our newest family member! 

Why do I tell you these silly stories? I want you to know that while I've seen things and grown a lot over here, I'm still Kate. Maybe I'll grow up someday and stop getting into silly scrapes, But, then again, probably not.

On a more serious note, things have been good as of late. My friend showed me this link, and she says it better than I could, so you should probably read this article.

I saw my friends from Masese after a two week break while I was sick. On teaching about the Passover and what a clear picture it is of the Cross (whoa, right?) I started to cry. Yeah, during my teaching. One of the women said, "Ah, Auntie Kate! It's as if you're crying. For us?" I want so badly for my friends to see Jesus. My view of poverty has completely changed now, and while some of the stories we hear do break my heart, many of my friends here have decent lives. (Not in any way according to American standards, but that's another story.) I want to save them, not in the physical sense anymore, but I want them to know Jesus. I want them to have blood cover them so that the destroyer will pass over (Exodus 12:28). But the small voice keeps telling me, "You don't have to save them, I already did."

It's not about being arrogant and wanting to bring all of my friends up to the American standards of living. It's about loving these woman as my friends and praying that Jesus shines through that. It's not even about my words, it's about the Holy Spirit. It's all Him. I know I say that a lot, but I remind myself of that more often as the days go by. It's all Him.

Hosea

A good friend here was once challenged to never make it just about the physical, because that's solely making the path to hell smoother. Harsh, yes. But it was a challenge and conviction to keep things in the eternal perspective. While I am in no way against helping (when it is appropriate and truly culturally helpful), I never want to bring the comforts here only to have them suffer even more in eternity.

These might just be faces to you, but these are my friends. I never want it to be about numbers or stories that I can share, but to remember that these are people with eternal souls. People that have taken place in my heart that I'm not sure could ever be replaced. And I'm still learning what it means to love and be loved by them. 

I don't think I'll ever stop.

David, born January 18th