She’s my little Ugandan Wikepedia. Hasn’t seen an iPod, driven in a car, or traveled much beyond her orphanage in Luwero, but Stella’s eighteen years have matured a most incredible woman. We’ve had the chance to spend more time together lately, feasting on issues of faith, culture and curiosities of her story. A most surprising part has been Stella’s openness, knowing it’s extremely uncommon, and uncomfortable usually, for Ugandans to open-up about personal information, pasts, or emotions. Stella has given me loads of each.
As a nursing student, she loves hearing about my Graduate program, which in very basic terms mixes theology (study of God) and psychology (study of self). A lot of our reading this past semester covered parental influence and how that affects one’s view of God. In other words, how the way you were disciplined, loved, reacted toward, listened to, etc., is practically identical to the way you’ll perceive being done so by God. Thus, your reaction(s), opinions, prayer approaches, fears, mistrusts, and so on, will similarly correlate to that of your mother and father. An obvious example might be that you grew-up with a strict dad who lashed-out at the smallest of mistakes. Your view of God, then, will struggle to trust unconditional love, as you’re constantly up against an innate fear that if you mess-up, God will lash-out at you. Through time, prayer, awareness, counseling and usually a good bit of re-objectification (experiencing people who provide “healthy” responses to your mistakes), I think it is of God’s highest priorities to tear-down and rebuild our views of (His) perfect parenting.
Anyway, I was curious about this from the perspective of an orphan. Namely, how had Stella’s view of God been challenged, provided a lacking mom (died in childbirth) and absent dad from the start? The mom side was easy, she said, given that a woman from the orphanage had stepped-in and “re-objectified” (she liked this word J) her views of a silent mother figure. In view of God, then, she felt comfortable turning to His more feminine traits of nurture, care, gentleness and counsel. It was the masculine ones, she explained, that have taken years to rely on. “Believing God as my Father has been the biggest challenge to my faith. I could call Him any other name, but spent years fighting His title, or role, as Father.”
When I asked Stella about thoughts on marriage and if she foresaw herself getting married, she smiled and said she dreams of it, but, “It’ll have to be a miracle of God. I don’t know how to trust men and am only starting to learn what it means to trust Him. I picture myself with a Ugandan, but even in the church, men here talk the talk, but it’s rare to find one who really lives it. To be honest, a lot of me is scared of marriage and although I’d give anything to be a mother, cannot get past the hurdle of the husband element.” “Mock families” are created at her orphanage, so that she spends a good chunk of days working, studying, going to church, eating meals, etc., with 8-10 other “family members,” including a “father and mother figure” (who are staff at the orphanage, but have their own families, too). Unfortunately, Stella watched her “father figure” cheat, abuse and misuse women, namely his wife. Therefore, she said, yet another wall went up between her ability to healthily view a male figure and thus, to healthily view God.
The conversation closed with me explaining how one of our biggest struggles in America is against a lot of jacked-up family lives and therefore, a lot of jacked-up views of God. It was refreshing for her to realize she wasn’t alone in these conversations, and refreshing for me to realize what I’m studying is really poignant material. Arriving at the house, there were three Danish people sitting at the table chatting. Stella looked at my with a grin and said, “I don’t know why I never realized this, but I assumed all white people spoke the same language.” I smiled back, realizing in some ways, it’s a very small world, carrying the same needs and questions of God. But in other ways, it’s really big and carries quite different ones.
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Random.
Christina (3) and Sharon (2) spent the night last night. Christina entertained herself painting my fingers ‘and’ nails, making banana pancakes and laughing as the adults played Catch-Phrase. Sharon was a little under the weather, so crashed earlier, actually catching-on to the phrase, “slumber party.” Christiana was apparently more keen on an “awake-party.” Between crying, laughing and wiggling, I think she REM’ed for about 30 minutes.
How is it that glue doesn’t stick together when it’s in the bottle?
I think we’ve all realized at times how much we ‘don’t’ mean, “how are you,” when we ask, or are asked. If we really took that greeting seriously, we’d be processing with people all day long. What’s crazy is that Ugandans often knock the greeting up a notch, ‘and’ really mean it. They ask, “How is your life?” And expect an honest answer. No wonder nothing runs remotely close to on time here.
A bird shat on me yesterday. I looked-up to find no tree, no overhang, no nothin’. It had the whole sky to fill and instead chose the 2mm crevice behind my left ear.