Tickled Pink.

Hands down, one of my favorite parts of the day is “wake-ups.” Because I’m with preemies much of the time, I get bonus wake-ups throughout the day, including mornings, and then morning, afternoon and evening naps. When we’re on our lunch break though, all the kids are napping and I like to walk around to the different rooms and pray over them. Today as I was looking in on some of the 2’s, I couldn’t help but respond to their giddy games, where they acted as if they didn’t know I walked in, but couldn’t hide it with their erupting giggles. I can’t think of many more priceless sites than six hot-pink, cloth diapers bouncing up and down to the rhythm of black baby girls. It didn’t take long before their laughs got out of hand and Mama Margaret came to regulate. Game over.

***

Moments of Church.

I took Christina to church with me today. Amani is really lax on taking the babies in and out, so that we could even bring them home to sleep with us if we wanted. For one: they trust us, two: It’s good to get the kids out and three: TIA—This Is Africa. Christina is about two and a half and as adorable as they come. Her stomach is protruded from malnutrition/absorbtion, but other than that, she’s a gentle, healthy girl. When I arrived I wasn’t sure who I’d take, but she seemed most eager. Mama Denise was all excited for her and said she must put on her Sunday garb. So we raided to the Toddler Closet and found some pink-flowered shoes and a lovely dress to match. Christina was glowing.

I’d gone to a Calvary Chapel service at 8am (always a good bet to hit-up the early service here…there’s usually an 8am and a 10am and if you choose the latter, prepare to be there for a long while) and wanted to visit another church in town. The kids aren’t awake early enough to make the 8am service, so it worked out well to run by the orphanage on my way to “Jinja’s Church of Christ.” Among other things, our fifteen minute walk (well, my walk/her carry) to town passed-by three cows, one gunman, a witch-doctor and two Muslim Mamas. Church itself felt really right. Calvary was good, too, but didn’t have the warm spirit of this second church.

Aside from a truthful sermon and welcoming crowd of about a hundred, highlights were the boy in front of me with enormous trousers and a forgotten-to-zip fly, and the beautiful girl beside me, with frazzled braid-weaves and a laced white dress. Beads of sweat decorated her porcelain face, and profuse shivering her delicate body. She laid in her mother’s arms and sang softly the praises of Jesus. When I asked later if she was okay, her mom answered in tearful, broken English, “The clinic say she is Malaria or “the Disease” (AIDS).” Heartbreaking. A final high was a moment in the hour-long worship set at the front-end of church (2nd services are bound to go at least a few hours). Christina was asleep in my arms and hidden in the crevice between my neck and shoulder. As the Church sang loudly in Luugandan, my tears caught the beams of incoming light and prisms covered my lense. My eyes closed in awe, knowing this scene would be revisited in heaven. Oh, and on a less serious, or spiritual note, well…I guess it could be if you wanted, Christina peed on my skirt. When I asked if she needed to go to the bathroom, she looked at me with her innocent, big brown eyes and whispered, “Auntie Abbie, it is done.”

***

Starting to Read the Bible.

I’ve read the Bible less this year than any since becoming a Christian (freshman year of college, seven years ago). Odd, given that it was my first year of seminary, where most might assume all you do is read the Bible. What I did more this year, however, than all those years combined, was pray. I should say “engage in prayer,” only because to pray feels quite active and the prayer I experienced this year was more about dialoguing and most about hearing from God, as oppose to talking at Him. In a lot of ways this was really scary, as the Bible quickly becomes a crutch for our faith and experiences of solitude, or silence with God, bite the dust. Similar to church-going, Bible Studies, or volunteer work, time serving God takes the place of time with God (don’t get me wrong, these two can go together, but the line is really, really shaky…and I had fallen off it). Anyway, after a year of learning to be with God, apart from any necessary additives (a journal, the Bible, a sermon, or book), it’s been refreshing to feel “ready” and desirous of revisiting His Scriptures. Who knows how He’ll lead my days ahead, but for now at least, it’s been nice to (re)engage with God’s Word—as my nourishment and Bread—but not as a sole Source. No matter how much reading, study, or Scripture memory I do, I’m slowly learning to trust that there is always a more dynamic “Person” waiting to ‘be’ with me—to rest with me, and I with Him. The Trinity is far more encompassing than a Book and far more encapsulating than an approach, or describable ascent. So after a long year of breaking down this facet of my faith, it feels good and right to be reading the Bible again.

***

Bugs.

I swallowed a bug today, which for a few reasons, felt a little scarier than normal. Oh well.