I am toothpaste.

I... am toothpaste.

I am toothpaste in a tube. I don't claim to disinfect, prevent cavities, clean, or cleanse and would be horrified to be told that I whiten. Like toothpaste, I am destined to serve in the field; though I currently live in a tube. Needing something I cannot accomplish on my own, I wait to be sent.

Reunion of friends - fire strengthens fire

Today I got to see my friend Sarah (uganda-journey.blogspot.com - she is a much better writer than me). We worked together while in Uganda. She has since gotten to go back. We talked about Uganda and she shared news from the field:
Gulu has grown... they now have a market chain from the south that carries bacon and dr. pepper.
The kids have grown
There isn't an afterschool program much anymore (the one we started and I want to continue) - my classroom awaits me.
Corruption hasn't ceased. The hardest thing (at least for me) to deal with in Uganda is corruption and lying. It seems it is extremely difficult to fully trust anyone as lying to a "friend's" face is appallingly common.
There are some more foreigners (some from US ) working out of Gulu.
My kids still ask about me.

I am both glad and sad to hear about them. Glad because I love them and care about how they are doing. Sad because I am still here. There is work to be done.

Pray for the kids. Pray for their country. Pray for me. Pray for movement.

new year

Happy new year!!! Hope you enjoyed its coming.
I pray the new year is blessed. May we see them with eyes renewed.

butterfly bandit

Oh boggity blog, what do I write? What do I tell you? What it worth writing here?
Where are you flowing thoughts of poetry? Deep insights?
Sometimes thoughts flow in my mind but they don't make it out. Often words or memory fail... On the wings of an elusive butterfly they ride on to flit and flutter but not be tamed. or documented for sharing. How many pictures of empty leaves freshly abandoned by a fluttery friend have I taken. How many times have I sat to write only to watch the pixels dance rebelliously from the rhythm of the blinking cursor that reminds me like an alarm clock I have yet to type a single character. Sometimes thoughts can't be caught... or translated. Sometimes I am dry though I scrape the skin of my mind with a sandpaper trying desperately to gather something together. A retreat to another place... somewhere inside. The giving hand just a pile of sand that can't seem to meld itself together.

What's wrong with random?

Sometimes, I like bullet point-like writing because my thoughts don't have to flow well or be complete sentences. They are more thought-like. I also like pie. And pepperminty coffee. 

Where am I from??? Locationally Challenged

I am a Potted Plant. An earth-dweller. A US citizen. Look for my roots and you will find them tucked underneath me wherever I happen to be sitting... or standing... or cartwheeling. I have lived several places (Washington, California, Colorado, South Carolina, Colorado, Tennessee, Colorado [can you guess my favorite state?]). I love the people I have met along the way and carry them with me. I think in preparation, God has allowed me a sense of movement and "home"lessness that has become somewhat freeing... home is in heaven and one day I'll see it.

Beauty in Surrender

     Today marks two years that I have been back in the states (yesterday by the time this posts). I planned a day of mourning; to state my frustration and view my failure... but I didn't.
     I was talking to a Christian friend at work today. He was telling me about his time off, not getting what he wanted to get done, and struggling with his perception of it being "his" time in the first place. I was reminded of my own struggle with frustration - my expectation that I would be back by now hasn't been met. I have a tendency to see it as a failure on my part to somehow accomplish funding. I know that this is God's. It is His calling. I am His. "My" time and circumstances are His. Fundraising is His. I know He loves me, He loves those kids more than I could, and He still says I get to go back. I know there are things I could be doing better to fundraise somehow. Sometimes I feel lost in it all - blaming my weaknesses. But I know it is His and in that I can be free from it if I let it be His. I am who He has made me. Even though I didn't plan on this time of wait, I see him stretching me slowly, stretching, stretching... and I am thankful. Surrender is beautiful because He is good and He is faithful.
     Still, I am sad. I miss my kids. So there will be more tears... and resolve to somehow figure out this funding thing.

     Today I was reminded that all is His.

              I have a part to play, 

       but the burden is not mine to carry.

               So, I give it back,

          and plead for movement,

   remembering there is beauty in surrender.