I Miss...

Today is International Women's Day.  Not many people in America celebrate it... in fact most don't even know it exists, but it's a wonderful day!  (of course, I may be a bit biased.)  As I scrolled down my facebook newsfeed today I have had the joy of seeing many beautiful pictures from a particular celebration in Uganda today.  It's a celebration that I had the honor of being a part of in 2011.  We had 50 women that year with about 5 countries represented.  This link will bring you to my blog post from that day with lots of details and a few pictures.  This year, only 2 years later, there were nearly 150 women present!!  Praise the Lord!  I don't know who preached or what the program looked like, but I can tell by the pictures that everyone had an amazing time and were blessed by one another's presence.  It's amazingly beautiful to see people from very different cultures (who wouldn't normally interact) interacting peacefully and loving on one another.

Seeing the pictures being posted today, my mind is flooded with memories of my time in Uganda.  I ache to be there on days like today.  On top of seeing all of the pictures, I got a phone call from a dear African friend yesterday, and today when I got home from work and checked the mail I had a package from my dear friend who has just moved to Uganda this week.  She sent me Ugandan beads.  Yes, I have lots of jewelry from my time there, but this was special because they're Uganda colors... and they're some of her favorites.  How utterly selfless.  I find myself jealous of the fact that she now lives there full time.  Uganda is her home now.  While I know without a doubt that God has asked me to be here in Jersey and to settle down, that doesn't mean that I don't miss my African home.

I miss the smiles of my refugee students and their always-warm greetings and welcomes.  I miss their hugs and their laughter.  I miss being silly with them and trying to explain things in English, using wild hand gestures and lots of movement.  I miss their determination and their love for one another in spite of many differences.  I miss the level of acceptance found at the Center of Hope.  I miss being welcomed into their homes, treated their like family, and surrounded by their love.  I miss the selfless nature and the absolute hope.  I even miss the hard times and times of uncertainty.  I miss showing up to class on time, knowing I'd have to wait at least 20 minutes for everyone to show up so I could start.  Even though I don't enjoy dancing in the least, I miss dancing with them.  I miss hearing their voices singing, ever so quietly, in worship on Wednesdays.  I miss the teasing that always ensued.  I miss playing volleyball, basketball, and soccer and laughing with the ladies as they did their best to improve their skills.  I miss their willingness to hold my (almost always) sweaty hands as we walked down the road or prayed.  

I miss the smells... trash, animals, diesel fuel-vehicles, people, rain, flowers, Lake Victoria, and MANY others.  I miss the sounds... cows, chickens, goats, dogs, horns honking, bodas flying by, birds laughing and chirping, raucous music, laughter, children playing, people working... and the list could go on.  I miss the sights, both the under and overwhelming ones.  I miss walking in the hot sun, trying to fit under tiny slices of shade as I go.  I miss the heartfelt greetings and the slowness of life.  I miss matooke and g-nut sauce, rice and beans, and especially the pineapples and mangos.  I miss the constant presence of baby animals.  I miss the freshness of the air and the indescribable beauty of the land.  I miss the burnt orange, dust roads... and having to wash my feet every night before bed.  I miss the vivid colors and fragrances of the flowers.  I miss the sun rising over Lake Victoria, signaling a new day.  I miss hearing church go on for hours and hours and hours all around the city every Sunday, and seeing people wear the best piece of clothing that they owned to honor God.  I miss Swahili.  I miss the desperation of actual need... and seeing the joy as it's fulfilled.  I miss holding baby "E" in my arms, kissing him, making him smile and laugh like no one else could, changing his diapers, feeding him dinner, loving him.  I miss all of the days spent at Loving Hearts Babies home.  I miss learning more and more about the many cultures I was surrounded by.  I miss long walks with God through the hills of Kampala.  I miss the Sudanese guys' stories and laughter. I miss wearing a skirt whenever I wanted to.  I miss $8 pedicures... especially since feet get so nasty.  I miss being called Mzungu and hearing lots of different languages every single day.  I miss the genius and resourcefulness of the people.  I even miss the constant frizz-ball that is my hair in Africa... and not caring so much about it.  I miss the acceptance and openness exuding from all around.

I could go on and on, but I'll spare you.  My love for East Africa will never fade in the least.  More importantly, my love for Jesus continues to grow.  I pray that He gives me His eyes, hands, feet, and heart as I continue to try to serve Him... and that He continually expands my love for His Bride, no matter what She looks like or where She's at.

I took the following video from the back of a boda (motorcycle) on my way home from town one day.  It's quite shaky and rather long, but it gives a good picture of my surroundings and such.