tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57872063850431543592024-03-13T07:12:48.331-07:00Choosing to live an UNDAUNTED lifeKimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12573044605260599505noreply@blogger.comBlogger124125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-67722995597064649542022-09-24T11:12:00.002-07:002022-09-24T12:31:43.442-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9uyTaFhcnLxum5P0XxgmTp32_PaHEXVi1zD6_cHD5pmu3J4KGVV1WlEA9u3BcdYSMOUkLo0ZOtBmAZCUEMKwixtJ8LtwxsctjbOCifSOVU0qv1PSawjW5DCqKvr0qJ6iTYxKridRR_q_7kOaR-9vh6hJ-Gnxdeb_thtT7LRIQBNN0JNkCt82X8SVGww/s1040/27acc521-b532-4ec9-9101-b1d7379bad71.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1040" data-original-width="780" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9uyTaFhcnLxum5P0XxgmTp32_PaHEXVi1zD6_cHD5pmu3J4KGVV1WlEA9u3BcdYSMOUkLo0ZOtBmAZCUEMKwixtJ8LtwxsctjbOCifSOVU0qv1PSawjW5DCqKvr0qJ6iTYxKridRR_q_7kOaR-9vh6hJ-Gnxdeb_thtT7LRIQBNN0JNkCt82X8SVGww/s320/27acc521-b532-4ec9-9101-b1d7379bad71.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />It has been a week since sweet 10 year old Grace breathed her last and inhaled the Glory of Heaven. I've found myself wondering here and there what her first moments were like...her legs that could no longer hold her up had instant ability to run and the struggle to breathe was instantly met with what must have been the most amazing breath. Was she surprised by the sudden strength that surged through her new body or was it the last thing on her mind as her eyes lifted up and felt the physical touch of Jesus and their eyes met for the first time face to face. Did her soul inhale in wonder or was it an exhale of relief? Relief from the physical suffering that had so defined the last several years of her life. Death often brings questions and walking with a girl so young only seemed to stir up wonders in my own heart. <div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjswXf9FXRXnfFgMxQLR2ObrVoOWWl-QJqBbMbF4OptBq5lK06-e4nLMx0_pTYdteqrf0q2-PP4Nxn9Oy8D3RCXinMYf3ieaTYnzXAG8V6c3bfDEhFmPWPpSy5Y1X9nb3tS8Gz3a8d_iSSD1e2GjwHUM0qkFvdu2VxV_izAvIvd3NTKmRtEJnq_owkciw/s4032/IMG_4094.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjswXf9FXRXnfFgMxQLR2ObrVoOWWl-QJqBbMbF4OptBq5lK06-e4nLMx0_pTYdteqrf0q2-PP4Nxn9Oy8D3RCXinMYf3ieaTYnzXAG8V6c3bfDEhFmPWPpSy5Y1X9nb3tS8Gz3a8d_iSSD1e2GjwHUM0qkFvdu2VxV_izAvIvd3NTKmRtEJnq_owkciw/s320/IMG_4094.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>My first memory of sweet Grace was simple. There were hundreds waiting for care at a medical outreach deep in the village and this young girl sat alone on a cement step waiting to be called for care. She caught the attention of another nurse and I. She was notably swollen and just as<br /> equally quiet. And yet.. even in her quietness, there was a notable resolve. No one accompanied her. No one sat next to her to wait to be seen. She had simply come because she knew she needed help.</div><div><br /></div><div>She was far more patient than me. </div><div><br /></div><div>Let's just face it... after an hour of waiting, my leg would have been dancing... some extra blood would have crept into my face and my eyes would have been a bit tinged with annoyance... and by hour 5 or 6.... I'd be embarrassed by what I would anticipate my response to be. </div><div><br /></div><div>And yet Grace waited. Along with so many others who simply wanted and needed care. </div><div><br /></div><div>Once Grace was seen and examined by a provider, it was organized for her to be admitted to a hospital about 20 minutes away down a dusty, bumpy road. Her momma came and through the bumps and dust, another team member and I engaged with this little girl and her momma. Simple words. Simple smiles. Simple Hope. </div><div><br /></div><div>Several days later Grace was discharged from the hospital. A boda boda (motorcycle) dropped Grace off with her momma at the outreach location and it was more clear than anything that Grace was far more sick than when she was admitted. Instead of walking to the examination room, Grace had to be carried and before we knew it, her condition was deteriorating before our very eyes. An ambulance was organized and she was driven with her momma to the main referral hospital in Kampala. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxKQV5UQf_J2icFvYUhQIoysnvi3kz6sHGx6qXAJZfqOeopyS3CXJvtDoIVJPxfXsY6vPicyzVzuM-L1b3xuALCYE6uStqIAEeA5FJ-GwMoJ5CntNGbp1PnFJ8-k2jHSmLx6BAU_o68EnnspfnOJyEiyvrgJ_cACj8FC-WsOnJSCIUHeCt1c5TgQwjfg/s1040/50ec0d84-43fd-48dc-b635-a91b2301ca74.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1040" data-original-width="780" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxKQV5UQf_J2icFvYUhQIoysnvi3kz6sHGx6qXAJZfqOeopyS3CXJvtDoIVJPxfXsY6vPicyzVzuM-L1b3xuALCYE6uStqIAEeA5FJ-GwMoJ5CntNGbp1PnFJ8-k2jHSmLx6BAU_o68EnnspfnOJyEiyvrgJ_cACj8FC-WsOnJSCIUHeCt1c5TgQwjfg/s320/50ec0d84-43fd-48dc-b635-a91b2301ca74.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>It's not a place I would want to send anyone. </div><div><br />And yet, it was one of the only places in Uganda that has working dialysis machines. </div><div><br /></div><div>And that is what Grace needed. And so we trusted and we sent her and we prayed. </div><div><br /></div><div>And Grace, with her momma at her side, stayed at Mulago Referral hospital for weeks. </div><div><br /></div><div>Her Creatine level was nearly 13. Normal Creatine Levels are 0.3-1.3 mg/dl. Creatine measures the health (or lack of) of the kidney. At 13, it was a miracle she was alive. </div><div><br /></div><div>She received Dialysis regularly. </div><div><br /></div><div>And her condition declined. </div><div><br /></div><div>And so after discussions and prayers, the decision was made to shift the focus of care. </div><div><br /></div><div>On a Saturday, Grace was discharged from the referral hospital and after a five plus hour ambulance ride with lights and sirens, we made it to Joy Hospice. </div><div><br /></div><div>The room was simple... and yet so welcoming. Grace and her momma (and her baby brother Ivan) had a large room to themselves. Two beds. Mosquito Nets. Nurses that were attentive to Grace and her momma. </div><div><br /></div><div>And as simple and welcoming as her room was, there was NOTHING simple and/or welcoming about the present circumstances. Grace had been the victim of a crime. Someone had given her and her younger sibling poisoned porridge. Yes, you heard me correctly. Poisoned porridge. Who gives a perpetually hungry child POISONED porridge? Your guess is as good as mine. Pure evil. Pure something. </div><div><br /></div><div>And Pure opportunity to love this child as FULLY as possible. </div><div><br /></div><div>Her momma stayed at her side. And her dad, historically out of the picture, was present for the last near 48 hours of his daughter's life. And her grandma came dressed in her best outfit and sat quietly, yet present. Grace was surrounded in her suffering. She was not alone horizontally and neither was she alone Vertically. </div><div><br /></div><div>Every 30-60 minutes, increasing dosages of morphine would be drawn up in a syringe and carefully given to Grace. She was in pain and her breathing was labored. Initially, she would swallow and yet as her body weakened, the concentration of the morphine was changed and drops were carefully placed in her mouth knowing that her body would absorb. </div><div><br /></div><div>I shared the bed with Grace. Her momma was hesitant to be that close. I would rub her back and would find myself whispering into her ear....letting her know that it was ok to go. I would tell her Jesus was with her. I would let her know that she was safe and that she had fought hard. Boy, had she fought hard. </div><div><br /></div><div>Death is private and to be honest, it is quite vulnerable. Even as I type away, I am finding myself cherishing both the hard and the good, I am hesitant to share much more.... even tempted to withdraw some of my words. </div><div><br /></div><div>And yet, I will let the words remain. Through the vulnerability of her death, I... no... WE get to see the beauty of her life and as biased as I might be... I see how Jesus truly cared for her... even in the struggle of active dying.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_maO-VNP2QblfRSzWUDfgIM7EES5q0tb6BfSjRAPX4b-jS_5vhdXtnuCGzQlpQ1fCwcfSguYz9R7Eh1OKDUzbo37ch10O8qukpJJwssNFckSNijAbK8tfXP3xGhyaCYsfaEuPK7VjGVEO3zRd49RSanN4J5Poo-AmvsAYqYp48WEkH_csPzVDF0ZtVg/s4032/IMG_4066.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_maO-VNP2QblfRSzWUDfgIM7EES5q0tb6BfSjRAPX4b-jS_5vhdXtnuCGzQlpQ1fCwcfSguYz9R7Eh1OKDUzbo37ch10O8qukpJJwssNFckSNijAbK8tfXP3xGhyaCYsfaEuPK7VjGVEO3zRd49RSanN4J5Poo-AmvsAYqYp48WEkH_csPzVDF0ZtVg/w189-h183/IMG_4066.jpeg" title="I wish had a team picture... but I don't." width="189" /></a></div>I see a team back in the States that waited patiently to come to Uganda to offer their skills, love, and care. They waited long and by the time they reached, the make-up of their team looked different... and yet their timing and the makeup of the team could not have been more ordained by God. Their team was not just them, but joined alongside by a team of Ugandan medical providers. Together, they loved and poured into hundreds of lives. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg99iz5Hooz0oj9ltbj5WmB9n-L2PG6cfMsVk6FLdHqxjWShDRHH1JOc7ez_4Opgv24zbI_XSqUAv11Z9x5Mz3RCkNPsK_3i48Kv8pJGLYOra3l_P-YMDU9MLnmGyjhdpFbHA2IJDGELbclNSHUINuYOUpCqIAx3rki6mOa-KCxKrH408fdNNKtLgLiUw/s4032/IMG_4144.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg99iz5Hooz0oj9ltbj5WmB9n-L2PG6cfMsVk6FLdHqxjWShDRHH1JOc7ez_4Opgv24zbI_XSqUAv11Z9x5Mz3RCkNPsK_3i48Kv8pJGLYOra3l_P-YMDU9MLnmGyjhdpFbHA2IJDGELbclNSHUINuYOUpCqIAx3rki6mOa-KCxKrH408fdNNKtLgLiUw/w259-h194/IMG_4144.jpeg" width="259" /></a></div>Grace arrived at the outreach at the time ordained for her. That timing allowed her to be connected and to receive medical care. She knew the kindness of touch and the kindness of eyes that let her know that SHE mattered. She was prayed over. The love of Jesus was whispered in her ear and boldly shared over and over. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7q9ONR1WSICCEW4aHpuX2_Rl91gAlDObCsQywQH37FLrmI57l_2-rNx0kua3DqjdcQBX_x68PE5N6wdANTkTpRSXg7RVZpGlOBoIBdaKC1y7nv9wIzcXozL2ingHbllVmjYt_l7DLz_09MV9Key47WCnMuuF_HbSWw1-feXNTRtQfqTGOVl2zAHYJUA/s1040/08a24082-19fa-452f-8acc-501a9895c7f8%202.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1040" data-original-width="780" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7q9ONR1WSICCEW4aHpuX2_Rl91gAlDObCsQywQH37FLrmI57l_2-rNx0kua3DqjdcQBX_x68PE5N6wdANTkTpRSXg7RVZpGlOBoIBdaKC1y7nv9wIzcXozL2ingHbllVmjYt_l7DLz_09MV9Key47WCnMuuF_HbSWw1-feXNTRtQfqTGOVl2zAHYJUA/w196-h261/08a24082-19fa-452f-8acc-501a9895c7f8%202.jpg" width="196" /></a></div>Grace had time with her momma. Time to be loved on and even time where her body was better than it had been in.... years. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, her body deteriorated.... but I would venture to say that Grace left this world knowing love in a deeper way. I believe that her face erupted in more smiles in those weeks than they had in a long time. Her tummy was more full than it had been. She had clean water. Clean sheets. A momma at her side. The list goes on and on... </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHbhbBNAwXiLAnEfH82s1L4YahA1lRV-TSEZ7OpGb1MrKnqBHhQ35PqLcyu0XD3ZAHDK3rT_q5P_pD_vFc_1RqiRa54OBj8ItDr3H2978hhg5SlNsWxK_OBW6ClkBzX0H9iwcSi4I6z-xVu77sCUiGTtkqpuBkt1OqTRZ8CNkx9Ye2mHA-lrvvi2Kw-A/s4032/IMG_5190.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHbhbBNAwXiLAnEfH82s1L4YahA1lRV-TSEZ7OpGb1MrKnqBHhQ35PqLcyu0XD3ZAHDK3rT_q5P_pD_vFc_1RqiRa54OBj8ItDr3H2978hhg5SlNsWxK_OBW6ClkBzX0H9iwcSi4I6z-xVu77sCUiGTtkqpuBkt1OqTRZ8CNkx9Ye2mHA-lrvvi2Kw-A/w239-h179/IMG_5190.jpeg" width="239" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-eUc-QGiIPuQr-_9otjwcLYjiUHCou9VxfWRc4uJYSxMUNF1IQEN7miL2zbLElyP8sK3CaAMMTERhIboyH8yjeIsY6I7ZQqO9Kw9IO5WfoKJp_2bJ0aFa3wuSlT8CE3c1oDeo15rx-L6tzHtpA0zs09CG9zJ_4n-CQ1NTng84r94yyNxX26pNFuXLxw/s1080/2845bc51-9486-4657-ae42-28d3ee47d693.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="810" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-eUc-QGiIPuQr-_9otjwcLYjiUHCou9VxfWRc4uJYSxMUNF1IQEN7miL2zbLElyP8sK3CaAMMTERhIboyH8yjeIsY6I7ZQqO9Kw9IO5WfoKJp_2bJ0aFa3wuSlT8CE3c1oDeo15rx-L6tzHtpA0zs09CG9zJ_4n-CQ1NTng84r94yyNxX26pNFuXLxw/w175-h233/2845bc51-9486-4657-ae42-28d3ee47d693.jpg" width="175" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4mQGrt1sR7HRQIZ1_RPzUJ0XB8krHucSTCaGyjTKANUBVVy9E_PqKl9yL_9C5tintzsoRDU2PuSixfoz1CsX_hpKs6nqwjIYXQ1sh29mLFRmKN2D7BfMrWjw6GH_c-DlJY_3SOlaqCXP7Nzwh_kGuKih_AMz9OScbddRlESCtAa_PERWIOxQvhtwc5w/s2647/IMG_5157.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2515" data-original-width="2647" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4mQGrt1sR7HRQIZ1_RPzUJ0XB8krHucSTCaGyjTKANUBVVy9E_PqKl9yL_9C5tintzsoRDU2PuSixfoz1CsX_hpKs6nqwjIYXQ1sh29mLFRmKN2D7BfMrWjw6GH_c-DlJY_3SOlaqCXP7Nzwh_kGuKih_AMz9OScbddRlESCtAa_PERWIOxQvhtwc5w/w183-h174/IMG_5157.jpeg" width="183" /></a></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHlAaghXW6ADUOorZL6Ao_0STlYb2egbyhxSmeigJ20reXSIEQwOAF7CmmP5zU56ZZufP43b4UudSCsUaR9IsufEaapmkzrcUcCBM2J0mlBdt8OhLsYaltJypyYPDObqBdBX9Beqqs-wIqAZKgZ6eCLzg9hs2hkIz9Kl4PN1EYKGuD36jaWxNouWiWrw/s4032/IMG_5145.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHlAaghXW6ADUOorZL6Ao_0STlYb2egbyhxSmeigJ20reXSIEQwOAF7CmmP5zU56ZZufP43b4UudSCsUaR9IsufEaapmkzrcUcCBM2J0mlBdt8OhLsYaltJypyYPDObqBdBX9Beqqs-wIqAZKgZ6eCLzg9hs2hkIz9Kl4PN1EYKGuD36jaWxNouWiWrw/w172-h229/IMG_5145.jpeg" width="172" /></a></div>And I suspect that she knew. </div><div><br /></div><div>Deep down in the privacy of her heart. </div><div><br /></div><div>That she mattered. </div><div><br /></div><div>That she really, really mattered. </div><div><br /></div><div>And so even as her body crumbled and swelled and pain filled her every breath.... </div><div><br /></div><div>Grace was not healed how I wanted her to be... or how anyone wanted her to be. She left this world and walked right into the arms of her Jesus knowing what she could not have known had she not walked the previous steps in the journey.</div><div><br /></div><div>And I believe that no matter how I or anyone feels about it, the truth is that Grace was Healed. </div><div><br /></div><div>More and more I believe that true Healing comes by walking through the fire. And healing so often looks so different than what we want or what we envision. </div><div><br /></div><div>And what an honor it was to walk with this precious, spicy young girl and her momma.</div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbVSaxny-WHJtnlAVhBqz1BmasuHu1lCM95G6Mebxn8-oEB6Y0cyg4zboWZn1n-ZVbv54NFjiGajS9LhGfcTAh-jNWkcw-UhnaL1Q68At85M3T9kKHai8_Cr2Su40BNvpDMrBtme9qOup7kDDFOhDReoW1oVEYP7NsOyLH5QSyXcn5bfn0ciW-PY7iGA/s1080/2150ad5c-ea21-4c6e-a185-f06537b920b0.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbVSaxny-WHJtnlAVhBqz1BmasuHu1lCM95G6Mebxn8-oEB6Y0cyg4zboWZn1n-ZVbv54NFjiGajS9LhGfcTAh-jNWkcw-UhnaL1Q68At85M3T9kKHai8_Cr2Su40BNvpDMrBtme9qOup7kDDFOhDReoW1oVEYP7NsOyLH5QSyXcn5bfn0ciW-PY7iGA/s320/2150ad5c-ea21-4c6e-a185-f06537b920b0.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Kimberly Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14001728041319653274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-29630111969934326952022-08-21T07:33:00.001-07:002022-08-21T07:33:55.858-07:00Paper Cuts and Jesus<p> It's Sunday morning and I am sitting on the roof of a building overlooking what is either the Nile or Lake Victoria. The humor in it is I should know which body of water is staring right back at me... and well, I don't know 100%. And I guess it doesn't matter. The wind is blowing cautiously. There are three donkeys roaming around just below me eating their morning treats and the roosters are trying to prove to each other that the sun is about to come up.... too bad for them that they are all wrong and the sun has actually been up for hours. </p><p>My feet are propped up and it is very clear that my toes need some serious love and attention. I'm hoping that tomorrow when I go to Kampala, there will be a pause in the agenda and I will be able to get my feet cheese-grated and painted... and while that's happening... hopefully my fingernails will also be worked on and I will once again feel a bit more.... well, maybe put together. ( : </p><p>The place where I am right now is called Prayer Mountain. And it's interesting to read the history of this place. This mountain used to be the mountain where witchcraft doctor's worked and trained the next generation of witchcrafter's. About 7 years ago, it was claimed by a Christian couple who have turned it into a place of respite and reprieve for any who need to connect with Jesus and to be cared for. I've been checked into a small room named "Goodness" and my heart has slept, inhaled, exhaled, and quietly connected with my Jesus. I've also had time to bring my fingers to paper and process this thing called life with the Author of my life. It's been deeply needed and I suspect that He has more even in this day for us to process together.</p><p>And this is where I am. Late yesterday afternoon, in half gest, but not really, I asked God if He would consider sending an angel to come minister to me. I so desperately wanted a physical presence. My heart was weary and I was beyond exhausted. And instead of an angel, a deeper sense came to me that it was God Himself who wanted to minister to my heart. To be with me. And He did... and He is. </p><p>For those of you who know me closely, I rarely walk away from what is in front of me and that's not always a good thing. And this season has been a season of many needs and not so great intentionality on my part of being filled by God consistently as I face what is in front of me. It's best to just be honest than paint an inaccurate picture.</p><p>Earlier this summer, my dad was diagnosed with cancer and has been undergoing both chemo and radiation. Thankfully, Josiah and I were able to be with my parents the weekend that he got the official diagnosis (God-ordained timing). I spent just under a month in the States where God and I did some deep heart work and then I returned to Uganda at full speed prepping for a medical outreach that has been in the making for months. The outreach was amazing..... it was deep in the village and over 2,000 individuals received medical, dental, and/or vision care. We had a room set up as an Emergency room, multiple consultation rooms, a laboratory, a fully functioning pharmacy and a "tent" that served as our HIV counseling pre/post testing area. </p><p>So. Many. Opportunities. </p><p> To. Love. </p><p> To Do. </p><p> To Love. </p><p> To Do. </p><p> And I wish I could say with integrity so many opportunities to Just Be. </p><p> But Busyness and my flesh left me not making enough time to "Just Be" as I should have. <br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6kwFP2VJOC6BEzC877vMl9nBwVWWWrcQxeeOcaKBjc6q17WQDXfEL9gvpa2gd9J56eEEZ0hLwHKZXywoJOYvq2_hyZSZWfxmKtyR_zYjt1s4caGk8F2Mrzv8NGVPhwFuy8K317YI2T0M51wpCUHRi8mKz2C5oZLT7EYEBvPd39oFFlUre0gK61ZwGMA/s4032/IMG_4094.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="123" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6kwFP2VJOC6BEzC877vMl9nBwVWWWrcQxeeOcaKBjc6q17WQDXfEL9gvpa2gd9J56eEEZ0hLwHKZXywoJOYvq2_hyZSZWfxmKtyR_zYjt1s4caGk8F2Mrzv8NGVPhwFuy8K317YI2T0M51wpCUHRi8mKz2C5oZLT7EYEBvPd39oFFlUre0gK61ZwGMA/w164-h123/IMG_4094.JPG" width="164" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwpc_PvNG214q8GeDAG8CRxzSrWELV7qSSQNP6Rmt1lMGlGdt6n0qthg5ack2jT0c_kiC_8lf0CNtCgN6ioP1A7my5ZMs0lQSXcCS1eivsvlWmnX7e8-Dq7mVUut-Jl1eScpAn9UDmpOwglFL4DBoFqmuNA8NKiaiVZBg-F6Q9wTtTT-xo6GAkNX-B0w/s4032/IMG_4132.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="119" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwpc_PvNG214q8GeDAG8CRxzSrWELV7qSSQNP6Rmt1lMGlGdt6n0qthg5ack2jT0c_kiC_8lf0CNtCgN6ioP1A7my5ZMs0lQSXcCS1eivsvlWmnX7e8-Dq7mVUut-Jl1eScpAn9UDmpOwglFL4DBoFqmuNA8NKiaiVZBg-F6Q9wTtTT-xo6GAkNX-B0w/w159-h119/IMG_4132.jpeg" width="159" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1xk1cENqRMjV_yELnY0_u9HWuZfNxPbg9jGcRuzYAwQGMeXZWcd2qOFYnmVpenZXInrBP7FTLeS3hrKvWP08ZOei5INI1NV7j5pOIYv99OEG7ikTl1qfWNxI0_xqp1pZgBlk2m6hTVW7HWbFYw7hU28yao0Zbku412Lb5i2tHFmWv2i4yvB4jPa9zLQ/s1040/08a24082-19fa-452f-8acc-501a9895c7f8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1040" data-original-width="780" height="137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1xk1cENqRMjV_yELnY0_u9HWuZfNxPbg9jGcRuzYAwQGMeXZWcd2qOFYnmVpenZXInrBP7FTLeS3hrKvWP08ZOei5INI1NV7j5pOIYv99OEG7ikTl1qfWNxI0_xqp1pZgBlk2m6hTVW7HWbFYw7hU28yao0Zbku412Lb5i2tHFmWv2i4yvB4jPa9zLQ/w103-h137/08a24082-19fa-452f-8acc-501a9895c7f8.jpg" width="103" /></a></div></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcqo83BuXJL-jrsAzrvFLvwyH1pzJae_jiGSMeASa_4hvaC8xM0dxgfKkrBT8f-xRGhupC4X2yehj6Ttk3dUfgt5cL9Y6kdsZH_9IBmWECLFWltOU_lIyda8X3OMj3QWEMzKAZLgR25EWCOXkyT-zWuycDin0hf8tcmwq9e8Xq5_4kHRrLOVZVM8CA2w/s1158/IMG_4336.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1158" data-original-width="1045" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcqo83BuXJL-jrsAzrvFLvwyH1pzJae_jiGSMeASa_4hvaC8xM0dxgfKkrBT8f-xRGhupC4X2yehj6Ttk3dUfgt5cL9Y6kdsZH_9IBmWECLFWltOU_lIyda8X3OMj3QWEMzKAZLgR25EWCOXkyT-zWuycDin0hf8tcmwq9e8Xq5_4kHRrLOVZVM8CA2w/w172-h191/IMG_4336.jpeg" width="172" /></a></div>I forgot about the paper cuts that come with serving. Call it ignorance or something else, but I forgot the internal shaking that happens when you find yourself looking at a 19 month old baby girl weighing in at 6 kg... or a 5 year old boy who weighs 9 kg. Lack of food being the main cause. Momma's who cannot provide more and have been watching their children waste away for months. Seeing a young woman who is a social throw away carrying a stone for self-protection exposed and a frequent victim to violence at all levels. Touching her hand and giving her biscuits and seeing a smile break on the corner of her lip... and wishing so deeply that more can be done. The list could go on and on and on. <p></p><p>Those of you on social media have heard about 11 year old Grace. A sweet girl who waited patiently all day the first day of the outreach to be seen....she was bumped in the line and it was clear she needed more care. We brought her to the hospital where we were promised she would receive blood that very night. She didn't. Four days later, she was discharged. Yes, she had gotten a blood transfusion... but as to what else wasn't super clear. What was clear was that she could barely lift her head. Her condition was critical. Our head doctor was able to secure an ambulance. We met it in town and Grace was driven with lights and sirens into Kampala. As she sat and tests happened more slowly than my heart would have preferred, more of the story came out. Grace and her two other siblings had been given presumed poisoned porridge 3 years prior. The siblings fell sick, but recovered. Grace did not. Last check of her creatine was just shy of 13. Thankfully, she has started dialysis. Movement and conversations are happening. </p><p>A seemingly impossible task.... BUT not impossible. </p><p>And the truth is each of us find the paper cuts. Anytime our hearts are turned to what God has for us in a given moment, the risk of paper cuts are present. <b>To engage fully is to experience</b>. And while I don't want to speak on theology, I will say that I think the paper cuts are (or can be) inevitable. Feel free to process that with me if you have a different take. I'm still chewing on it myself. </p><p>I didn't (and don't) like the paper cuts (if that is even what one should call them), but I wouldn't trade them out. Because, in the absence of the paper cuts, I would have missed out on rubbing the head of an elderly man scared by his difficulty breathing and pounding heart. I would have missed out on getting a glimpse of a smile on that young woman as somehow she knew, even for a few minutes, that SHE mattered. (I won't lie... I saw her smiling from the side mirror as she walked away just looking at the biscuits).... or the little boy who was brought in gushing blood from his eye and nose....the tenseness in that room palpable and the safety of all at high risk (though later absolved)</p><p>What I continue to realize or maybe better said, what I am continuing to learn is what to do with the paper cuts. A small paper cut here is manageable... 3-4 a little uncomfortable... but when the number or depth of the cuts reaches a certain amount... no amount of personal strength or resilience can silence the pain or the effects of the paper cuts. </p><p>The cuts need attention and they need care. </p><p>And maybe even deeper is the realization that even with one paper cut, I need to do a better job of leaning into my Jesus. Letting Him show me the cuts in my heart. Instead of letting them accumulate. And so I've been leaning my head back and just inhaling and exhaling.... sometimes whispering to Jesus about the cuts and sometimes letting my heart somehow share. And sometimes, He's showing me the cuts I don't even realize are there. I don't exactly know how it works... but pausing and being with Him is helping. </p><p>I'm not a big throw out a Bible verses kind of gal.... Don't get me wrong.... I LOVE my Jesus... I just know sometimes when verses are given to me without a lot of rootage or connection, they can sometimes feel a bit insensitive or trite.... and yet even as I type that I know there is Power in His words. </p><p>And yet these Words, grabbed my heart today... and since it's my blog.... I guess I'll write them to myself. If they bring encouragement to your own heart, then be gifted. And maybe, if you find yourself sitting in your own pause with Jesus about paper cuts, He will whisper something different to you... a different passage or a different nudge. I don't know... BUT what I do know is that He is respectfully stubborningly faithful. And He wants to help us with our paper cuts. And I'm also learning that it's often helpful to look at the paper cuts after a LONG, GOOD nap! </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Isaiah 41: 17-20</p><p><br /></p><p><span class="text Isa-41-17" id="en-ESV-18469" style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">When the poor and needy seek water,</span><br style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="indent-1" style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Isa-41-17" style="position: relative;">and there is none,</span></span><br style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="indent-1" style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Isa-41-17" style="position: relative;">and their tongue is parched with thirst,</span></span><br style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="text Isa-41-17" style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">I the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Lord</span> will answer them;</span><br style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="indent-1" style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Isa-41-17" style="position: relative;">I the God of Israel will not forsake them.</span></span><br style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="text Isa-41-18" id="en-ESV-18470" style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="display: inline; font-size: 1.2rem; font-weight: 700; left: -4.4em; line-height: normal; position: absolute; top: auto; vertical-align: text-top;">18 </span>I will open rivers on the bare heights,</span><br style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="indent-1" style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Isa-41-18" style="position: relative;">and fountains in the midst of the valleys.</span></span><br style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="text Isa-41-18" style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">I will make the wilderness a pool of water,</span><br style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="indent-1" style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Isa-41-18" style="position: relative;">and the dry land springs of water.</span></span><br style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="text Isa-41-19" id="en-ESV-18471" style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="display: inline; font-size: 1.2rem; font-weight: 700; left: -4.4em; line-height: normal; position: absolute; top: auto; vertical-align: text-top;">19 </span>I will put in the wilderness the cedar,</span><br style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="indent-1" style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Isa-41-19" style="position: relative;">the acacia, the myrtle, and the olive.</span></span><br style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="text Isa-41-19" style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">I will set in the desert the cypress,</span><br style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="indent-1" style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Isa-41-19" style="position: relative;">the plane and the pine together,</span></span><br style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="text Isa-41-20" id="en-ESV-18472" style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="display: inline; font-size: 1.2rem; font-weight: 700; left: -4.4em; line-height: normal; position: absolute; top: auto; vertical-align: text-top;">20 </span>that they may see and know,</span><br style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="indent-1" style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Isa-41-20" style="position: relative;">may consider and understand together,</span></span><br style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="text Isa-41-20" style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">that <b>the hand of the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Lord</span> has done this,</b></span><br style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="indent-1" style="font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Isa-41-20" style="position: relative;">the Holy One of Israel has created it.</span></span></p>Kimberly Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14001728041319653274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-72518229572274919662022-02-10T06:41:00.002-08:002022-02-10T06:48:14.801-08:00Rat toilets and Hut building... <p> Ha! I've learned a LOT of things in the last 6 weeks of my life... and today, I think I learned something new..... something that caught my attention. I'm pretty sure RATS are cleaner rodents than we think they are... I am pretty sure that I have been driving my current car for the last 6 weeks with a rat toilet in the glove compartment. Like Literally. Full stop. I haven't seen any poop anywhere in the car. The remnants of Urine... yes, that smell greeted us the first time I opened the car door and has never fully gone away. The smell often sneaks up on long drives or early in the morning when the rain is pressing out the sun. And so, in preparation for trading out our current car for a more reliable car, I decided that I would clean it. I pulled out the brush (no vacuum) and a spray bottle first of thieves (I love that smell!) and then a bottle of half vinegar/half water.... and I went to town. To be honest, I'm not sure that thieves, vinegar, and stale rat urine are going to make for a very good car ride that is going to happen in about 10 minutes... but nonetheless, I tried. And then I thought, I should clean out the glove compartment. I knew I needed to grab the registration book. And shortly after opening it, I found it AND also... The RAT toilet. There was POOP everywhere.... EVERYWHERE! It was disgusting to say the least. I grabbed my thieves and I sprayed like crazy... and then I grabbed my roll of paper towels that are so expensive one must save them for rainy days... and by golly, this was a rainy day moment. My mind kept thinking of the diseases that rats carry and then it hit me... for the amount of rat poop hanging out in the glove compartment.... there were either a LOT of rats making this 1998 Toyota Rav 4 home... OR there were a few that lived there for a LONG time... Either way.... my big learn of the day is that Rats are more something than I thought. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgwTiXvBW8p0bAchZJJmMe7mrbnjBuS-NTu4TsaXy1R7JdUIqzAKv9MsOAIAzi6u4bL57mDpM3jEp6SYqGMD0xNREXVYOK5mGC_uBnU9kc_H5ILY5GziIpFWw6p_WVPku_0K8pqbWm0rPLHkPD_nBTkUvy_IpOG-p5zfMAW4nC9WIdBzKXanobARlks9A=s360" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="330" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgwTiXvBW8p0bAchZJJmMe7mrbnjBuS-NTu4TsaXy1R7JdUIqzAKv9MsOAIAzi6u4bL57mDpM3jEp6SYqGMD0xNREXVYOK5mGC_uBnU9kc_H5ILY5GziIpFWw6p_WVPku_0K8pqbWm0rPLHkPD_nBTkUvy_IpOG-p5zfMAW4nC9WIdBzKXanobARlks9A=s320" width="293" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj6czljEflDAoB8aKtNi6qv2jSzAgAjv0oRQbSsFHszovVtvEYlKm-fueEoN4LoPFo-i4zgU5a6tbw-byIo2f4rg3qbY3ZTFQBA9XyjVBfOMQjl3sVeHMhO_ScvAl29VbVBifqbUMUmHSmd6BiRpTCkqX0-wh02K--BSylek6f6uUyt-2kl4ZCLcshuew=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj6czljEflDAoB8aKtNi6qv2jSzAgAjv0oRQbSsFHszovVtvEYlKm-fueEoN4LoPFo-i4zgU5a6tbw-byIo2f4rg3qbY3ZTFQBA9XyjVBfOMQjl3sVeHMhO_ScvAl29VbVBifqbUMUmHSmd6BiRpTCkqX0-wh02K--BSylek6f6uUyt-2kl4ZCLcshuew=s320" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p>There you go, the deep thought of the day. And I'm sure there should be a deep thought forming in my heart connected to the rat poop. I'm letting it simmer inside my heart to see if any profound thoughts happen. But in the meantime, I've since returned after dousing my car with thieves and vinegar... and well, neither of those products do miracles in rectifying a rat bathroom problem. Just saying. No need to try it yourself. </p><p><br /></p><p>But in all seriousness, here I sit at the near end of another week. It's been just over 6 weeks since Josiah and I landed into Uganda. Our house is becoming our home. My feet are more than dipping into work and Josiah has finished a MUCH better week at school. He is currently outside discussing with his friend, Manday how to construct a HUT. He wants it not only for himself, but also in preparation for when his cousin comes to visit. Ha, I hope his cousin reads this post... because Josiah listened to him and he has already cleared the land.... the debate has been on whether or not it should be a mud hut or bamboo. Bamboo is not preferred by Josiah. Mud is not by me.... Ha, there is no Oxo-clean here. But hey, whatever joys his heart. </p><p><br /></p><p>I still haven't quite come up with a good connection between Rat toilets and our transition to Uganda. So alas, I'll share some of the highlights of these last weeks in Uganda. </p><p><br /></p><p>Our landlady is a gem. She often brings us traditional Ugandan food and one night came to wash our feet. Josiah wasn't up for having his feet washed, so JaJa (term of endearment similar to grandma) washed Josiah's hands and spoke words of affirmation over him. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj2XbOTtB0lmxHTMRa0PK0g5X9pwHni_zkxO98q9CmcRAHxXuFJmoDIxnzDg1zNM_x7Ku2nEzsX78xmFAm_Ylx8r63JV_UKw1dXIQZeodNg2JutVI1DzWg3fqyy_DuK7fjeSZwEFcKz0p5keA1PEVhW7yvrhjZVKTIIg2A0OMZr6U0XfK_rEFf2D-_Png=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj2XbOTtB0lmxHTMRa0PK0g5X9pwHni_zkxO98q9CmcRAHxXuFJmoDIxnzDg1zNM_x7Ku2nEzsX78xmFAm_Ylx8r63JV_UKw1dXIQZeodNg2JutVI1DzWg3fqyy_DuK7fjeSZwEFcKz0p5keA1PEVhW7yvrhjZVKTIIg2A0OMZr6U0XfK_rEFf2D-_Png=s320" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Josiah is absorbing the warmth of the sun and while he seems to be a bit (k, a lot!) flustered by boiled chicken feet, he spends hours chasing monkey's, birds, and other such things... </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjg02V5vciX5mYItS5m7NhJ0QSRpIRnkYuY6AkGOzSFXNqmg4pp7IzsIr_5RVxAJ0kU5oyjN5nK2Zu1G4mvS74DV2f3d0GYhZnNExYREv2hJoumbr3r-q41o2J_jAXGwMwu65u4zYT2IQpK56HBHUKDCV7a14eFDOK8-NYalak8xCGoj1ux0-5DqSExdw=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjg02V5vciX5mYItS5m7NhJ0QSRpIRnkYuY6AkGOzSFXNqmg4pp7IzsIr_5RVxAJ0kU5oyjN5nK2Zu1G4mvS74DV2f3d0GYhZnNExYREv2hJoumbr3r-q41o2J_jAXGwMwu65u4zYT2IQpK56HBHUKDCV7a14eFDOK8-NYalak8xCGoj1ux0-5DqSExdw=s320" width="240" /></a></div>Rachel is a young women from my days at New Hope. She came to Jinja for a visit and stayed for a handful of days. We were able to catch up, pray together, and live life. It was great having her be with us and I look forward to more visits! <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgrzpJeq6nrzkDvtM2qu0vlBxrTzsM9gicJ-Pap6tuLX1f326kYbXCVzNkX6RrIERuPtAs12wdNCAs0cZ-eiOYLGfdz9NYoplvaRin5bVnn11d8FL3iEvVwtxEgtjfGdlAZy2HWwyTc6zj-qjB1zqXA47prsfMgoqMdCzumJcJLCkwUuxaXB5PEDulwJA=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgrzpJeq6nrzkDvtM2qu0vlBxrTzsM9gicJ-Pap6tuLX1f326kYbXCVzNkX6RrIERuPtAs12wdNCAs0cZ-eiOYLGfdz9NYoplvaRin5bVnn11d8FL3iEvVwtxEgtjfGdlAZy2HWwyTc6zj-qjB1zqXA47prsfMgoqMdCzumJcJLCkwUuxaXB5PEDulwJA=s320" width="320" /></a></div>Josiah has become fast friends with Manday. He is our security guard and he and Josiah spend hours running the yard doing all the things mentioned above. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhBpdiZ74cmORpbvdMkZyaswok57eMaM3XRjct2ERxfjkVCuvAzpeWAzDKUr0pDZ7orZZA4ZlG9oBMRhfc9SbBOMVztUO_YjsIWmKtkiRxWo_JPyAjUFn6y12htFQ-FmdxzpOOJXhNVLzy71iSbbs4r4Nox5ED_fYZSscXrzcoHFg1jEuvWTNVEwiQxBg=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhBpdiZ74cmORpbvdMkZyaswok57eMaM3XRjct2ERxfjkVCuvAzpeWAzDKUr0pDZ7orZZA4ZlG9oBMRhfc9SbBOMVztUO_YjsIWmKtkiRxWo_JPyAjUFn6y12htFQ-FmdxzpOOJXhNVLzy71iSbbs4r4Nox5ED_fYZSscXrzcoHFg1jEuvWTNVEwiQxBg=s320" width="240" /></a></div>Hadassah Sue spent the first 3 weeks with us. It was great having her. She was such a help and a presence in the early days of being here. She and Josiah got on like siblings and Hadassah and I shared sweet conversations, laughter, and all things in between. Hadassah is currently in nursing school... and who knows... may one day find her way back here.... <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhDfws93uhXS4SkQtFSCVMoeYjGzJXEJnXm1yMxdEvF7YTdINQkqqIr4Kr4Wof8BEXn0AkG6RhY4EAt60sdZ4vezmjkKl2cBMom0_DfF-aoFE1tRj9uKmBDOltieUfws4deAKmh1bD9iW7TOn0jnOyeBf5X_YHXPxnkJ1PBTmtvUe1cVOKIo9Vj5Bo4Xw=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhDfws93uhXS4SkQtFSCVMoeYjGzJXEJnXm1yMxdEvF7YTdINQkqqIr4Kr4Wof8BEXn0AkG6RhY4EAt60sdZ4vezmjkKl2cBMom0_DfF-aoFE1tRj9uKmBDOltieUfws4deAKmh1bD9iW7TOn0jnOyeBf5X_YHXPxnkJ1PBTmtvUe1cVOKIo9Vj5Bo4Xw=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>I have two weekend trips organized to connect with ministries out in the "bush". Medical outreaches will be held later this summer. I LOVE medical outreaches.... well, to be honest, LOVE might be a bit of a tricky word. I DEEPLY appreciate the opportunity to connect with people through medical care. So many do not have basic, needed medical care. The amount of work in organizing... well, that is not necessarily my most favorite part. But it's part of the process and I am so thankful for the fruit of the work. The following pics are from a medical outreach from years back.... <div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhx0FCEOqj7To4_8LzrAIssKA0BlWyhCBrKJSfv3LytxBHcePSfsQP45Yvk5BWI2vvAoAhGffMxOP_I2z3PIVqpUSHkg1_tT0blXMXh6OeUHRmWveq0n4hp6Ict2JNX3uOU6L5EAN7UR99kznk8A1C-B-fy82Qp1iH3A_oXpO6DeJW73GjWwbhCCA9k6A=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhx0FCEOqj7To4_8LzrAIssKA0BlWyhCBrKJSfv3LytxBHcePSfsQP45Yvk5BWI2vvAoAhGffMxOP_I2z3PIVqpUSHkg1_tT0blXMXh6OeUHRmWveq0n4hp6Ict2JNX3uOU6L5EAN7UR99kznk8A1C-B-fy82Qp1iH3A_oXpO6DeJW73GjWwbhCCA9k6A=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjODNCVHCnk9AxodRZovbDyKfMAQNeMzB7wl3_RGJvtDjpK54ZACUUriBanUbv2o98TgX8cHI5D2YfQrCw5ZQi7sofBtUgJHKi-yIrJ-3JQ-8X_5UNuYTGU5nN-HYms9QGKq8G586BoaqWibuQTIh6yvu10vAgkH6s6mBfF69QCiZdCGfwdLnqa8m2Qvw=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjODNCVHCnk9AxodRZovbDyKfMAQNeMzB7wl3_RGJvtDjpK54ZACUUriBanUbv2o98TgX8cHI5D2YfQrCw5ZQi7sofBtUgJHKi-yIrJ-3JQ-8X_5UNuYTGU5nN-HYms9QGKq8G586BoaqWibuQTIh6yvu10vAgkH6s6mBfF69QCiZdCGfwdLnqa8m2Qvw=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>And here are a few pics from our new home. It's coming together and is super cozy and comfortable. I LOVE it! And PS..... there IS a guest room! </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHNdziNxQAx57bKuudUeANOBkRnD7alnNjU_Q9aT6pTFp7-KDGw8jhIYHhc-ddfAHOthV1t7P6u21Uqb87MKjUGRJBjYBfRDm7mLM0OZ6leALVcdXR6CcJbHbfWztNhkfKnEAt3wVdAzJE95LYAzOSIV7xqT42SDpktCTZvtsfzqDMtLjA0Ovq2SXEow=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHNdziNxQAx57bKuudUeANOBkRnD7alnNjU_Q9aT6pTFp7-KDGw8jhIYHhc-ddfAHOthV1t7P6u21Uqb87MKjUGRJBjYBfRDm7mLM0OZ6leALVcdXR6CcJbHbfWztNhkfKnEAt3wVdAzJE95LYAzOSIV7xqT42SDpktCTZvtsfzqDMtLjA0Ovq2SXEow=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhkD6YL3ycpepm3TnHZBlDyQdsBzfOlT3BflTDEbioVF1aGtBQnD8FTnFrAeMpWfR6oLh2K5ZhHCIRsquZMjTTo4-_C6-Doi7XXsa4YVBYyFcz_hc2bLJK2cWglohQ4kFlgBGqH9rbgV09fwkYkvsO73LuA4xvDJETcT1ilvzuNlaHVy5lUYmE73G4ZkQ=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhkD6YL3ycpepm3TnHZBlDyQdsBzfOlT3BflTDEbioVF1aGtBQnD8FTnFrAeMpWfR6oLh2K5ZhHCIRsquZMjTTo4-_C6-Doi7XXsa4YVBYyFcz_hc2bLJK2cWglohQ4kFlgBGqH9rbgV09fwkYkvsO73LuA4xvDJETcT1ilvzuNlaHVy5lUYmE73G4ZkQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgf6OcVKiNWH9rgoMLFkkZ7k7lvI7JrdGr93ncqss3JvQA-XQhfvp8welu4YKF90xjGtBvx3JcsIUhvqu8gyGc0zm8zca7HW4Sk1SSePKzyEuPOB56B-KG8vUCPLNOErLNjOEJ45N1QhuZS8_aCBIn7iIzNMx8bypI6aYy5YdAutTBiuJLc3_xxTEGQ6g=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgf6OcVKiNWH9rgoMLFkkZ7k7lvI7JrdGr93ncqss3JvQA-XQhfvp8welu4YKF90xjGtBvx3JcsIUhvqu8gyGc0zm8zca7HW4Sk1SSePKzyEuPOB56B-KG8vUCPLNOErLNjOEJ45N1QhuZS8_aCBIn7iIzNMx8bypI6aYy5YdAutTBiuJLc3_xxTEGQ6g=s320" width="320" /></a></div></div><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I love you all. Sorry, I have no deep connection to make between rat toilets and our current state of being. These days have been SUPER rich and there have been some hard parts to it. Transition is hard. It's hard to always put words to the emotions, the feelings, and under the heart processing that goes on. The potholes are numerous as are the green plants that bring life deeply to this area. Both figuratively and in real life! And the people. They are beautiful. And so we walk. And live. And I'll go out and spray my car with thieves and check on Josiah who is deep in preparation of his hut... and keep walking this thing called life. Thankful to be here. Thankful. Deeply. </p><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhbxsbuRNnKTD-crrhabiJBGgcd8dloWOJpKl8m8FJrUBOzTP7MqLfk5hkXUxRet_sTwUj_pUEArmblUDZdohtPVlqdjB7mgEPKVRoALOo9JpVvuqraD1PbBrR0Bar9B29AgbQHDr3gfdpxHKBqzrCfyUw7-RYvMAMCNKXp1d2iE0WxgFCvdFxGM4fiLg=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhbxsbuRNnKTD-crrhabiJBGgcd8dloWOJpKl8m8FJrUBOzTP7MqLfk5hkXUxRet_sTwUj_pUEArmblUDZdohtPVlqdjB7mgEPKVRoALOo9JpVvuqraD1PbBrR0Bar9B29AgbQHDr3gfdpxHKBqzrCfyUw7-RYvMAMCNKXp1d2iE0WxgFCvdFxGM4fiLg=s320" width="240" /></a></div></div>Kimberly Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14001728041319653274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-40495922895652871012022-01-12T10:16:00.000-08:002022-01-12T10:16:52.252-08:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_07GOD_7R5GzoAuu5oLJjPbQPiA8zIhta8SvTkDwFBg_NqJoRDnTcosdj7HRytAAsGpNQQ8GITdn8saW18W75zaqOrfaOtt53872h8NSTmIKG283G8gLq9g0eMuA6HX1LAo6mUIJLIOmZyb0jH260AI7VjmkkMgnHfNSyeCrwY0YkrGV2jMMy9IzI-g=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_07GOD_7R5GzoAuu5oLJjPbQPiA8zIhta8SvTkDwFBg_NqJoRDnTcosdj7HRytAAsGpNQQ8GITdn8saW18W75zaqOrfaOtt53872h8NSTmIKG283G8gLq9g0eMuA6HX1LAo6mUIJLIOmZyb0jH260AI7VjmkkMgnHfNSyeCrwY0YkrGV2jMMy9IzI-g=s320" width="240" /></a></div><p><br /></p>It's a warm evening here in Jinja, Uganda. The bugs are warming up for an anticipated stellar performance tonight. Prayerfully, their performance will win out against any man-made DISCO that could threaten the harmony of the night. I will take chirping bugs any time over a DISCO that waxes and wanes throughout the night. Earplugs have been received like a Long lost friend. <p></p><p>It is hard to believe that it has been TWO weeks since Josiah, Roxy, and I took off from Fort Wayne, Indiana and journeyed halfway around the world to the pearl of Africa... to our new home in Uganda. </p><p>There have been so many things familiar... there has been the quick transition to driving on the other side of the road, having fun speaking Luganda with the locals, picking fresh fruit from the market, and once again prioritizing ensuring that the red dirt is no longer tucked between the toes. A drop of bleach into the rinse water and quickly being reminded that things move at quite a different pace here are all familiar realities. Case and point with the internet that was installed, but not turned on. ( : </p><p>And just as there have been lots of sweet familarities and reunions with friends so has there been the bumps of transition. </p><p>Our "new" car welcomed us with the smell of rotten, aged rat urine. If you aren't sure what that smells like... that's a good thing. With that, clear evidence that our car is not in as good of condition as had been believed and/or hoped. </p><p> Missing people back home in America has been a reality for both Josiah and I. There isn't any way around it. Deep relationships are not easily forgotten or dismissed. Many dear peeps ARE missed. That's the reality. And just because our physical bodies have found the warmth of the sun doesn't mean our hearts have made the full transition. </p><p> A bit of an unexpected bump in the transition is that Josiah and I are on different pages in our comfort with the culture. And both realities are valid and real. Not one is wrong or right. It is what it is. And navigating that is hard. No way around that one either. I've lacked patience and grace in the transition. I've been as human as it gets with a side of exhaustion. </p><p><br /></p><p>And God. </p><p> He is faithful. </p><p>Yesterday, a man was looking at my car with keen interest. As we approached, he asked if I was selling my car. I was already wondering if I would try selling my car and start over. Knowing that I will often be driving alone, I knew that having a solid car is hugely important. And this man's interest and question was a very clear reminder that even though there are parts of this that feel hard and lonely, I am NOT walking alone. </p><p>Even in the hard of the transition, Josiah and I have had a few really pivotal, key connections. In both of our vulnerabilities, God is working and doing His thing. </p><p>I sat with an adoptive momma yesterday of two daughters and as we were talking, I found myself thinking how amazing it would be to gather adoptive momma's here in Uganda together to have time to process, share, encourage, and be with each other. Stirring at the possibilities. </p><p>God brought a friend with us to Uganda to help Josiah and I settle. Hadassah Sue has been with us from the second day we were on the ground. It has been such a gift having her here. We have played games, swept, organized, shopped, and reminisced. </p><p>And so we walk. And when the weakness of my heart finds me, I will stand up and keep walking. </p><p>I can both inhale and exhale. I can both savor the sweetness of normalcies here and keep walking the hurdles of transition. </p><p>For this of you who know me deeply, I am committed to living this life as authentically and real as I can and that means sharing the bumps of joy and the dips of hardness and all the bits in between. </p><p>It is So good to be here AND it is has been a bit hard AND I also have no doubt that God opened the doors wide and clear for us to come... </p><p><br /></p><p>And so I walk leading my son along with me.. trusting that God is walking alongside us both. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjHHkrirFPs4ZCUGkVL52EvZrZNsuJU-KyAHmzM1I1Eph5fGWPgm2lowvuIYLPoljKGtEd11nVyq-Ny4ODhL8pBS_sq9VMC0kpoyRXbmSq09ILQIGc4vWUlTxn8tnGTmwwPUc3CWiVkT6VU09Xd-jKRVwL3cyjKpBdeEYTj311RYRtPAxW2x72EcRP4xQ=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjHHkrirFPs4ZCUGkVL52EvZrZNsuJU-KyAHmzM1I1Eph5fGWPgm2lowvuIYLPoljKGtEd11nVyq-Ny4ODhL8pBS_sq9VMC0kpoyRXbmSq09ILQIGc4vWUlTxn8tnGTmwwPUc3CWiVkT6VU09Xd-jKRVwL3cyjKpBdeEYTj311RYRtPAxW2x72EcRP4xQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7rJ_Tt8WmN4lc2ap5uIcJ-TWOOj16qPBxsVKprL7uJa1pIOJcCgdsJj1wsYvOxqzWANIkdQP72SS5KtN2XdYY_UZcowsItUF01lBKcgXrm_pvL86ppguq-vLgZCFAcakG6MhHXTp7Oktms9J0dZloiFfcEl_Ihw7g3xjehEXjuhsVcoKUq9M85SYTJw=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7rJ_Tt8WmN4lc2ap5uIcJ-TWOOj16qPBxsVKprL7uJa1pIOJcCgdsJj1wsYvOxqzWANIkdQP72SS5KtN2XdYY_UZcowsItUF01lBKcgXrm_pvL86ppguq-vLgZCFAcakG6MhHXTp7Oktms9J0dZloiFfcEl_Ihw7g3xjehEXjuhsVcoKUq9M85SYTJw=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgQqi85-PRL5U-W3lHIYwcqKIjboeKgoM9SDUlnyOS41eT1DPQh8D-lUdSB_fCGGjOKkf0NBqGu-yI_WXUgqKXN8x7oOByE-nR6dyLWnFqa0VU4mXKd0zrNZLI48f-7aeCGaA8reGPhceqzl0zVLrtDJ-80Xwk9kjUQzUIMTDyao0UFkxjWSRlL3EZ1Ew=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgQqi85-PRL5U-W3lHIYwcqKIjboeKgoM9SDUlnyOS41eT1DPQh8D-lUdSB_fCGGjOKkf0NBqGu-yI_WXUgqKXN8x7oOByE-nR6dyLWnFqa0VU4mXKd0zrNZLI48f-7aeCGaA8reGPhceqzl0zVLrtDJ-80Xwk9kjUQzUIMTDyao0UFkxjWSRlL3EZ1Ew=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Kimberly Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14001728041319653274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-15929307222971338572021-09-19T15:26:00.002-07:002021-09-19T15:26:05.413-07:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">My fingers are finding the keyboard. And it's pretty exciting. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Um_MThKWrN8/YUeE1pPvHnI/AAAAAAAAXHQ/2SdBEV09AQMUjMpwcWzgNgyUcexaXoqmwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/20150911_133557.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1152" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Um_MThKWrN8/YUeE1pPvHnI/AAAAAAAAXHQ/2SdBEV09AQMUjMpwcWzgNgyUcexaXoqmwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/20150911_133557.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><span style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;">It's a late summer day and I'm sitting on a cozy chair listening to the wind blow and a plane climbing higher into the sky. Every once in a while a car zooms down the quiet road where Josiah and I are staying. As life carries on around me, I am finding myself in a season of both pause, healing, and growing anticipation. Tickets are purchased and it looks like we will say goodbye to America just as the sun is about to set on 2021 and hello to Uganda just before the dawn of 2022. The excitement is growing. Today, I chatted on a Facebook chat with a friend who is helping to organize a HUGE medical outreach scheduled for next August. Excitement is here. Excitement is there. There are chit chats about investing in a vehicle that could accommodate medical supplies and provide space for needed medical outreaches with varying focuses. Pieces of the puzzle are falling into place. Unlike this blog which seems a bit sticky with age. Words and pictures are fighting for their place on this page. Mmmmm.... let's see who wins. Either way, this blog is being sprung back into activity. It was started back in 2012 several months before my first move to Uganda. And life was never dull. The blog often shared of the many things God was doing, the things He was teaching, and the amazing things He was doing in people's lives. Blog or no blog... recorded or not.... God is still moving and working and doing His thing. Feel free to come along again on the adventures of all things Uganda! So much to say, but for now, I wanted to crack my knuckles and dust off this page and practice hitting "Publish". </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l0_C43E2kik/YUeAI-aSE0I/AAAAAAAAXHE/hlXsQpLEvls50v6yy99eufh1YSbHcekQACLcBGAsYHQ/s800/242340022_2040279289468435_1197883558896652903_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="144" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l0_C43E2kik/YUeAI-aSE0I/AAAAAAAAXHE/hlXsQpLEvls50v6yy99eufh1YSbHcekQACLcBGAsYHQ/w256-h144/242340022_2040279289468435_1197883558896652903_n.jpg" width="256" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jjgqYJVcE_w/YUeE1SkDDoI/AAAAAAAAXHM/Kk8bbvpRQhwT3xdVSRIuH3vdktqgoSo_ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/20150914_090430.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="113" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jjgqYJVcE_w/YUeE1SkDDoI/AAAAAAAAXHM/Kk8bbvpRQhwT3xdVSRIuH3vdktqgoSo_ACLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h113/20150914_090430.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><p></p>Kimberly Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14001728041319653274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-40104289695075491932020-07-08T17:53:00.001-07:002020-07-08T17:54:29.211-07:00Inhale Hope. Exhale HopeIt has been over a year since I have brought fingers to this blog. Late 2018 to be exact. I had to play with the site in order to figure out how to write a new post. Eeeekk. Not what I expected, but since when is life what we expected. I've learned that very little is ever how we expect it to be. Very. Very. Little. But thankfully the very little is not void of nothing. Very little still leaves the door open for something. And it is in the something that brings my fingers to the keyboard. <div><br /></div><div>Right now, I'm sitting outside watching the clouds attempt to claim their territory. The rain seems to be losing though every once in a while, the rain hits the ground. And I'm absorbing the persistence of the sun admist the demands of the rain clouds. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4_nx6ZRzJg8/XwZqIfzA-rI/AAAAAAAAQ0Y/lGevMZYuJh0PSFuoRGHg96W95Lm8ztaLQCK4BGAsYHg/s1024/IMG_0890.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4_nx6ZRzJg8/XwZqIfzA-rI/AAAAAAAAQ0Y/lGevMZYuJh0PSFuoRGHg96W95Lm8ztaLQCK4BGAsYHg/s320/IMG_0890.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>And my heart inhales. And exhales. Slowly. Appreciatively. With resolve. </div><div><br /></div><div>There are so many battles going on right now. So many. </div><div><br /></div><div>So many that I bet lots of our heads feel like they are spinning. And with that could come a spinning heart. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's hard to keep track of everything. </div><div><br /></div><div>And yet, there is much to keep track of. </div><div><br /></div><div>Do I wear a facemark or not? </div><div> Do I prepare for no school in the fall or count on there being school? </div><div> How do I stand up and strong for my black sisters and brothers? </div><div> How do I process my own prejudices? </div><div> How do I change?</div><div> What does it look like to do so? </div><div> Do I cheer for another stimulus check or cringe at the what that could mean for our </div><div> economy down the road?</div><div> Do I stock my cupboards full of food or buy only what I need? </div><div> How much do I share with my not so little guy? </div><div><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> And the questions go on... and on... and on.. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /></div><div><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>I don't feel panicked. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>I just feel aware. Aware that life will probably never go back to how it was pre-Covid. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>And for some things, that's GOOD. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>And for other things, I get a little sad. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div>Sad for the fear that has seemed to blow like the wind... into the crevices once filled with little worry or thought. And while vigilance and awareness are so important, I cringe for the many, many who have gone weeks without hugs. Weeks without touch. Weeks without their front door opening and couches not dimpled by the weight of a visitor. </div><div><br /></div><div>For some... no, for many, that is their reality, And it's gutting to watch. I see it nearly every day as I enter into the homes of my patients. I get to dimple their couch... I get to ring their doorbell... and I get to put my hand on some shoulders and embrace others with a much needed hug. </div><div><br /></div><div>So much change... so much hard for so many. </div><div><br /></div><div>And so many opportunities. </div><div><span> So. So. So. Many. </span><br /></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div>The opportunities are vast. </div><div><br /></div><div>Fill someone's tank. </div><div>Buy groceries for the one behind you at the store. </div><div>Look someone in the eye. Let them see your smile in your eyes. </div><div>Take a stand. </div><div>Take a seat. </div><div>Sneak a hug. </div><div>Pick up the phone. </div><div>Pick up groceries for someone's grandma or grandpa. </div><div>Exhale Hope. </div><div>Inhale Hope. </div><div>Pop in someone's window and say hi! </div><div>Make a cardboard sign of affirmations and plot them in someone's yard. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Allow the Son to be stronger than the rain clouds. </b></div><div><br /></div><div>My fingers are loosening up. I'm excited to be writing again. </div><div><br /></div><div>So much to say. And yet for this moment, I am inhaling the Hope and pray that I will exhale as He leads. </div><div><br /></div><div>May I take each opportunity. Each. One. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><br /></div>Kimberly Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14001728041319653274noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-18818186806830964112018-12-24T19:46:00.000-08:002018-12-24T19:46:29.480-08:00Our King Has ComeHow it have been more than a year since my fingers have found this page? <br />
<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5iA7iPdhRl8/XASjIECa5lI/AAAAAAAAKuI/UVzwV-hEOrwOqoHgrPzQ1DVMmHMq_LTTwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_2771.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1247" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5iA7iPdhRl8/XASjIECa5lI/AAAAAAAAKuI/UVzwV-hEOrwOqoHgrPzQ1DVMmHMq_LTTwCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_2771.jpg" width="249" /></a>I was shocked when I looked. <br />
<br />
And yet here I sit. Over a year later. <br />
<br />
I'm currently at the YMCA in the swimming pool area. The temperature is an astonishing 10 plus degrees warmer than elsewhere and I'm watching my little guy as he swims with a friend. <br />
<br />
So. Much. To. Say. <br />
<br />
This morning in church, I was paused by the lyrics of a song. <br />
<br />
One that so many of us know. And yet, it' the different verses and words slid in that grabbed my attention. <br />
<br />
Grabbed my heart. <br />
<br />
It's not the first time this year that God has used a song with different lyrics to grab my heart. A surprise in the anticipated. A grab worth listening to. <br />
<br />
And oh how God has grabbed this year. Yep, that's right. <br />
<br />
He has been relentless. R.E.L.E.N.T.L.E.S.S. <br />
<br />
I wish that I could say that I have been more into grabbing back. But His grabbing has far outnumbered my reaching back.<br />
<br />
Nearly two years ago, I took on a challenge of memorizing 2 Timothy. It was one of the hardest challenges for my brain and yet, the rewards were huge. <br />
<br />
Today. I sang knowing that even as my mouth moved, my heart was pausing. Absorbing. <br />
<br />
For the unclean, the unholy. <br />
For the broken, the unworthy<br />
You came, Jesus You came.<br />
<br />
For the wounded, for the hurting<br />
For the lost, and for the lonely<br />
You came Jesus, You came.<br />
<br />
O come all ye faithful<br />
Bow before our Savior<br />
Come let us adore<br />
The One who came for us.<br />
Glory in the highest<br />
Praise the name of Jesus<br />
Our King has come.<br />
<br />
For the outcast, the defeated.<br />
For the weary, for the weakest<br />
You came Jesus, You came.<br />
<br />
O come all ye faithful<br />
Bow before our Savior<br />
Come let us adore<br />
The One who came for us.<br />
Glory in the highest<br />
Praise the name of Jesus<br />
Our King has come.<br />
<br />
O come let us adore Him.<br />
For He alone is worthy<br />
Our King has come. Our King has come<br />
O give Him all the glory<br />
For He alone is worthy<br />
Our King has come, Our King has come. <br />
<br />
And in the heels of that song, the 7 words of a book memorized over a year ago chugged through my heart and mind. <br />
<br />
If we are faithless, He remains Faithful. <br />
<br />
Every single one of the nouns mentioned in the song are words that I would say I've journeyed this past year plus. There have been many, many days were the sting... no the BURN of loneliness has threatened to drown me. I've felt defeated far more than I have felt victorious. I've felt unworthy of the gift given me. I've circled the path of mourning and drank from the river of bitterness. One hand holding a cup of hope and the other despair. I've been every single word mentioned in the song plus others. <br />
<br />
Yes, I've walked clinging to His pinky. I've cried out for His healing and His mercy. I've prayed deep, raw, honest prayers. I've taken the next step and the next. Most often than not, I've been thankful to be standing. I've been thankful to know that He is a God who P.U.R.S.U.E.S. I belong to Him and He Ain't letting me go... no matter what!<br />
<br />
It's not a matter of all of one and none of the other. <br />
<br />
I realize that I've been far more faithless than faithful. <br />
<br />
And that's the thing that grabbed my attention. <br />
<br />
Even when we are faithless, He remains Faithful. <br />
<br />
Faithful to His children. <br />
<br />
In a season of figuring out this momma thing, continuing the transition back to the States, mourning, and being challenged in deep ways, I've watched Him remain so F.a.i.t.h.f.u.l. <br />
<br />
He has declared truth over my life. <br />
<br />
And when my ears haven't been able to hear the vertical message, He has spoken loudly and faithfully through His messengers. <br />
<br />
He has melted my heart towards a certain mischievous, heart bigger than the canyon young man. <br />
<br />
He has not budged in who He is. <br />
<br />
He has not withheld love from me. He has instead, showered love separate from anything about me or what I've done... <b>or not done. </b><br />
<br />
He has pursued the rawness and realness of the depths of my heart and whispered peace and freedom. <br />
<br />
He has...<br />
<br />
And <b>He is. </b> None of the words above are past tense. This is a season of walking. <br />
And being real. And watching Him manage the current. <br />
<br />
He ALONE gets ALL the glory. <br />
<br />
For He ALONE is worthy.<br />
<br />
Our King has come. <br />
<br />
Jesus has come.<br />
<br />
Jesus who sees us not as we see ourselves, but as who we are IN HIM. <br />
<br />
I might feel feel Unclean. Unholy. Broken. Unworthy. <br />
I might be wounded and hurting. Lost and lonely. <br />
<br />
But the truth is I am none of those things. <br />
<br />
Because He came. Became Jesus came. <br />
<br />
I am Declared <b>Clean. </b><br />
<br />
John 15:3. <span style="background-color: white; color: #001320; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">Already you are clean because of the word that I have spoken to you.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #001320; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #001320; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">I am <b>Holy, Set apart</b>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="passage-display-bcv" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline; margin: 0px; padding-right: 6px;">Deuteronomy 7:6</span></span></h1>
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<span class="text Deut-7-6" id="en-ESV-5118" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "arial"; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">6 </span>“For <span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-ESV-5118A" data-link="(<a href="#cen-ESV-5118A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span>you are a people holy to the <span class="small-caps" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Lord</span> your God. The <span class="small-caps" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Lord</span> your God has chosen you to be <span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-ESV-5118B" data-link="(<a href="#cen-ESV-5118B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span>a people for his treasured possession, out of all the peoples who are on the face of the earth.</span></div>
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I am not <b>broken. </b></div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "segoe ui" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-weight: 700; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a h="ID=SERP,5368.1" href="http://www.biblica.com/en-us/bible/online-bible/niv/isaiah/53/" style="color: #600090; text-decoration: none;">Isaiah 53:4-5</a></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; font-family: "segoe ui" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="bottom: 4.5px; color: #111111; font-family: "segoe ui" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">4</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; font-family: "segoe ui" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering, yet we considered him punished by God, stricken by him, and afflicted. </span><span style="bottom: 4.5px; color: #111111; font-family: "segoe ui" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">5</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; font-family: "segoe ui" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are </span><span style="color: #111111; font-family: "segoe ui" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-weight: 700; white-space: pre-wrap;">healed</span></div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "segoe ui" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-weight: 700; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #111111; font-family: "segoe ui" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">And the list goes on. One by One. The things we feel.... the things I feel <b>are</b> debunkable. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #111111; font-family: "segoe ui" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "segoe ui" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>Our King has come. </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "segoe ui" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "segoe ui" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>Our King has come. </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "segoe ui" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "segoe ui" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>Our King has come. </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "segoe ui" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "segoe ui" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>He has come. </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "segoe ui" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "segoe ui" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>For All of you. </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "segoe ui" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "segoe ui" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>For All of me. </b></span></span></div>
<br />Kimberly Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14001728041319653274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-14165889854875936842017-11-14T19:08:00.002-08:002017-11-14T19:28:33.878-08:00Pulling up the Pant legs..... So often, fingers are brought to the keyboard when there is a flow to the words. When a thought has been formed and a direction is known. Tonight, I'm writing knowing that the "t" hasn't been crossed and by surely the "i" still needs dotting.<br />
<br />
It's not going to be my most pretty writing. But what it will be is a glimpse of where I am today. <br />
<br />
I am needing some authenticity. <br />
<br />
Today, I spent the day in an outpatient wound clinic. It was a whole lot of bandages. A whole lot of oozing all types of different things. And a variety of smells. I mean.... a VARIETY of smells. It didn't matter how pretty or nice the pants were that covered the dressings. Underneath it all were wounds needing care. Some wounds came from accidents. Others from disease. Some from poor health decisions. And others remained despite hyper vigilant care and attention. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NKa45l5_qYU/WguuJGHwpKI/AAAAAAAAAZU/Bzzjs1g0iDsHm-mCyYaYLssif5g4VWviQCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/th.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NKa45l5_qYU/WguuJGHwpKI/AAAAAAAAAZU/Bzzjs1g0iDsHm-mCyYaYLssif5g4VWviQCK4BGAYYCw/s400/th.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taken from the internet</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
All needed to be cleansed. <br />
First with soapy water. <br />
Then, for most, scraped with a metal tool.<br />
In the scraping, the not healthy tissue is removed. The healthy is challenged. <br />
<br />
In the scraping, healing is given a chance. <br />
<br />
It wasn't the smells that got me as I drove home or the variety of colors of pus that I saw today. <br />
<br />
It was the pant covers and the wraps. <br />
<br />
No matter how nice or how dirty they were... a decision was still made by each individual that came to allow someone to <b>pull up their pant legs</b><br />
to <b>take off</b> the dressings <br />
<b>to let</b> their wounds <b>be cleansed</b><br />
<b>scraped.</b> <br />
to be <b>looked</b> at<br />
to let <b>light shine on</b><br />
to be <b>covered</b> again. <br />
<br />
<b>allowing</b> the healing to continue. <br />
<br />
Because for all of the wounds I saw today, the healing doesn't come in one visit. <br />
<br />
But rather, it comes with each time the person allows someone else to pull up their pant leg. <br />
To take off their dressing. Each day that they make the choose to elevate their leg or apply a medication that they've been prescribed. It's a lot of different little decisions of saying yes. Of choosing to do. Of simply choosing. Even when the simply doesn't seem so simple.<br />
<br />
The truth is. My heart has been a struggling. It's been hurting. It's been trying to figure out this new normal. <br />
<br />
And it's also been <b>refusing</b> to let the bandage remover do what He does best. <br />
<br />
Remove. <br />
<br />
Cleanse. <br />
<br />
Bandage up. <br />
<br />
And well, when a wound is kept in the dark. When it's left to itself. It almost never gets better. It gets angry. Really stinky. And really full of drainage. And the journey towards healing takes that much longer. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--xkLtjmHzJs/WguuP6tWZ_I/AAAAAAAAAZc/Gsaw9MNw44sSwkFRIShqkhn_hP5aEXwYgCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/--xkLtjmHzJs/WguuP6tWZ_I/AAAAAAAAAZc/Gsaw9MNw44sSwkFRIShqkhn_hP5aEXwYgCK4BGAYYCw/s400/Unknown.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">taken from the internet</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Last night, I sat with a friend and ugly cried my way to the Throne. <br />
And had to acknowledge fully that I refused to let Him remove the bandage. <br />
And I had to make a choice to say yes. Yes, to his lifting of my pants leg today. <br />
<br />
<br />
I'm still in the wound clinic. <br />
<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jj4qMUpzB5Y/WguvEly829I/AAAAAAAAAZo/J0TkgTRtsUg6t1ZmFjvsDzdlVcGPPQa-ACK4BGAYYCw/s1600/23633500_10159605384935055_483655516_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jj4qMUpzB5Y/WguvEly829I/AAAAAAAAAZo/J0TkgTRtsUg6t1ZmFjvsDzdlVcGPPQa-ACK4BGAYYCw/s320/23633500_10159605384935055_483655516_o.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
I mean, in reality, I'm sitting on my couch with a naughty little puppy being a stinker. But in my heart, I'm at the wound clinic. My leg is propped up and I've just begun to allow Him to pull up the pant leg of my hurting heart. <br />
<br />
And so, that is where my fingers stop typing. I'm sure that I'll have more to say. But for now, I stop. <br />
<br />
I'm thankful He is patient with me. <br />
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<br />Kimberly Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14001728041319653274noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-62241364187276174322017-08-12T10:17:00.004-07:002017-08-12T10:23:55.699-07:00Looking for the Manna that is not a quick snack...<div>
I have come back to these pages multiple times. </div>
<div>
I've wanted to write and have struggled with finding the right words. </div>
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More often than not, I would find myself coming back to just remember.</div>
<div>
Looking through old posts. </div>
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Tearing up at pictures. </div>
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Smiling at others. </div>
<div>
Absorbing. </div>
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Remembering. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Right now, my feet are propped up and I have a bit of pause as Josiah is making traps in his room. </div>
<div>
The masking tape is being pulled from it's roll at a dramatic pace and if the string doesn't trip up any potential robber who comes, then the tape will surely do them in. </div>
<div>
I've just finished some time with Jesus and have both a hot cup of tea and a coca cola nearby. </div>
<div>
The day is still young and I suspect that in a short amount of time, I will tuck this computer away and find myself in an active game of SLAP. It's been a season of a lot of new things. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Lots of changes. </div>
<div>
Lots of remembering. </div>
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Lots of LOTS. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Yesterday, I was talking on the phone with a dear friend and made reference to how quickly life can change. Who would have thought way back in January that in August of THIS year, I would be preparing a child for school. A child that my heart is increasingly melting for. It wasn't even on my radar. And yet, it was completely on <b>HIS</b> radar. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So many changes. </div>
<div>
So many emotions.<br />
So much good. </div>
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So many of So many's. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My mind is still continually here and there. </div>
<div>
Remembering. </div>
<div>
Experiencing the New. </div>
<div>
Embracing the little man in front of me. </div>
<div>
Remembering the many God sweetly put in front of me there. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I wonder what it was like for the Israelites. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Did they really expect to be released? And when they were, what was <b>their</b> transition like? </div>
<div>
It says that there were times, they wanted to go back to Egypt? Was that desire because they weren't embracing their present reality... or was it because their hearts were torn between the there and the here? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I get that their reality was very different than my own. They were coming from a land of slavery. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
How many times have I wanted to go back to my own chains? </div>
<div>
Enough to know that it is likely that the Israelites had more than a few times of wanting to go back no matter if what was never the right thing. <br />
<br />
But a transition nonetheless. And I'm finding as I live life that change has a way of tempting me with what was. <br />
<br />
And yet every day the Israelites were given a gift. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Manna. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Last Sunday morning, I found myself at a hotel swimming pool outside of Chicago. Josiah had turned the pool into the ocean and was both an Orca and a seal depending on the moment. Between the splashing and the yelps from a seal, I sat and cracked a book I had recently ordered. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Awaken. </div>
<div>
by Priscilla Shirer. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The first reading was about manna. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Something God has brought me to repeatedly in this season. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But as I read admist the spaces and yelps of an escaped seal, my heart was offered a perspective I hadn't yet thought of. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Exodus 16:21 </div>
<div>
"They gathered it morning by morning, every man as much as he should eat; but when the sun grew hot, it would melt"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The food that would sustain the Israelites on their journey had to be gotten. There had to be an intentional decision to get up, get out, and pick up. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
At a certain point the sun grew hot and the manna melted. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
And if an Israelite chose to sleep in late...or opted to get distracted by a fun game.... or whatever fought for their attention.... they missed out. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And woah... my own heart was convicted. <br />
<br />
How many times do I roll over in the morning and start looking at my phone? (Ummmmm...</div>
<div>
nearly EVERY day)<br />
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nUaa3G4jPoA/WY834Lxr8KI/AAAAAAAAAXg/IrPyCSKobLsUSAiI_G3qz-8BYSUJhY4UwCLcBGAs/s1600/17821100_10158537683555055_1308590978_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nUaa3G4jPoA/WY834Lxr8KI/AAAAAAAAAXg/IrPyCSKobLsUSAiI_G3qz-8BYSUJhY4UwCLcBGAs/s320/17821100_10158537683555055_1308590978_n.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
How many times do I say good morning to Jesus and then start cleaning the kitchen... or throw clothes in the washer? (enough times)<br />
<br />
Or how many times do I get stuck in the busyness of the day where I forget to go back to the Manna and get my energy from the Food that nourishes? <br />
<br />
The Israelites were given the opportunity to gather enough food to <i>sustain</i> them each day. <br />
It required them to take the time to gather, to store, <b>and</b> to return back to their supply of manna as needed. <br />
<br />
Jesus, help me to return to you more faithfully throughout the day. <br />
<br />
Thank you that you give me everything I need to get through each day that you have organized and planned for me. <br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Kimberly Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14001728041319653274noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-18086966393900825102017-06-04T18:42:00.000-07:002017-06-04T18:43:28.215-07:002 1/2 weeks out... <div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OPU1EK3_fP4/WTSn21AXPaI/AAAAAAAAAVs/0frR2obxINw56zUxIdaOCFd4146jHswrACLcB/s1600/IMG_0696.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OPU1EK3_fP4/WTSn21AXPaI/AAAAAAAAAVs/0frR2obxINw56zUxIdaOCFd4146jHswrACLcB/s320/IMG_0696.jpg" width="320" /></a>It’s hard to believe that it has been about 2 ½ weeks since
my feet landed back on US soil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My feet
HIT the ground running.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where Jet-Lag
was a minimal reality going over to Uganda, Jet-Lag coming back stateside
proved to be a bit of a bear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I landed
into Fort Wayne with two dear friends waiting for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Within a few hours of landing, I found my
bed and drifted off into a relatively deep sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My friend Hannah drove a LONG way from North
Dakota to Fort Wayne to walk with me as I absorbed the reality of the new path
God has me on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so thankful for
the time God gave me in Uganda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My heart
mourned and bled a lot in those days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
also did a lot of savoring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Savoring the
bits and pieces of a life that had become home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was as if He gave me fresh ears and eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found myself taking pictures of the clouds,
the skyline, the people, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
confused roosters greeting the day hours before sunrise were met with appreciation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With Absorption.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I struggled with the tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I struggled to contain them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yet my friends encouraged me to let them
be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To let them come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went down to the farm and sat with my God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I absorbed. I prayed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I anticipated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My friends threw
me a surprise shower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Homemade lotion,
sweet gifts, and precious words of encouragement found their way into my
heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Deep into my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>These friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These
sisters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just typing those words brings a burn of
tears to my eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Priceless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On my last morning in Uganda, I woke to an
email.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My house in Illinois had an
offer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A serious offer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God had heard my prayer weeks before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Simply asking Him if He could make my house
sell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t a surprise to me that He
let me know about it my last day in Uganda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Hugs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Deep hugs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Grabbing hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Absorbing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those were my final moments at New Hope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So many memories there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So many.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So many deep relationships. So many.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>SO many deep connections.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So
many.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I may have walked a chunk of
kilometers in the saying goodbye journey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have a feeling there are many more to walk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The roots were deep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I don’t think roots can be uprooted all
that quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It will take time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It will take some more tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it will take a whole lot of leaning into
my God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">He’s got me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And He is not
letting me go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b>And so, I continue to
walk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m watching Him divide the red
sea right before me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A house selling, a
house buying, and a whole lot of people giving so sweetly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m watching an extreme makeover home
transition happen before my very eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Just days after landing, Hannah and I (her hubby in the car behind)
drove to Chicago where another friend and her momma threw me a shower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Friends and family from so many different
chapters of my life coming together to launch me into the next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In no time, the house I am moving into will
become more and more a home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">He’s got my nephew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And He’s not letting go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b>I haven’t quite figured out all that I
will share on social media.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am
committed to being authentic and I’m equally committed to doing what’s best for
this little man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m trusting that God
will show me the balance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I know
right now is that <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">none of us is alone</b>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">No
One.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b>God is SO into the
details.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So into wooing our hearts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So into walking this journey of life <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">with us</b>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can only pray going forward that my roots
will grow deep into what He has for me going forward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sorta of pray that some of my roots are
never uprooted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;">The roots of different times in my life are what make me who
I am today. </span><span style="text-align: center;">I just pray that I keep
looking up and keep trusting Him.</span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;">Keep
trusting in His goodness today.</span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;">And
tomorrow.</span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;">And the day after.</span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><b style="text-align: center;">He is
good. And He is faithful. And He is ok with the tears. Very ok with them. </b></div>
Kimberly Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14001728041319653274noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-53821841194520306122017-05-15T06:52:00.000-07:002017-05-15T06:52:36.203-07:00Savoring EVERY moment. These days. <br />
As we say here, Banange! (Oh My goodness!)<br />
I can't even fully digest these days. They have been a mixture of a lot of emotion. <br />
I got off the plane knowing that I wanted to savor EVERY minute. <br />
And I've tried. <br />
My mind and heart are still in the middle of digesting. Absorbing. Embracing. Remembering. Living in the moment as much as possible. <br />
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So much to say and yet today, I'm letting the pictures speak for themselves. <br />
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The road home. It's one of my favorite places here in Uganda. This picture doesn't grasp the absolute beauty of this place. I had my friend stop the car and I literally hopped up on the hood of the car to snap this picture. It threw some people off as they watched the "white person" on top of the car out in the middle of the bush. I guess it isn't every day that you see someone on the side of the dirt road snapping pictures. </div>
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One night, the missionary ladies threw me a shower. It was a surprise and was full of kind gifts and wise words. I knew the love and was grateful for the sweet gift of their thoughtfulness and blessing. While I truly know that this next chapter is led by God, It is still a path of letting go and feeling the emotions of the hardness of leaving. Knowing the love and blessing of dear friends here makes it that much easier. <br />
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These days have been rich of spending time time with many. It's included time with the young ladies I have mentored and walked with over the years. Time to hear how they are doing and to process through who will walk forward with them. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hope</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goodbyes are HARD. Sweet Chandiru</td></tr>
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<br />I've eaten LOTS of matooke and g-nuts. What a sacrificial gift from people in a season where the rains have just come. Matooke is more expensive due to the limited supply. My heart smiled at the kindness and my stomache appreciated. <div>
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God's sweetness over these last few weeks have been so evident. I am so so so thankful that He has allowed me the sweetness of coming back and being able to say "goodbye" personally to these people. My heart is so thankful. Yes, the tears have flowed deeply, but my thankfulness for these days have also run deep. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My clinic Team! They threw me a lovely meal! </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Uncle Matthew and his family. Matthew is like a brother. He drove me all over<br />Kampala on a a variety of trips. Often, it was for clinic tasks and taking people to and<br />from appointments. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Auntie Blessing wanted to wash my feet. A blessing as I head out. <br />Speechless. What a gift! </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SO many dear friends here. Here with my British Friend who loves me just because I'm an<br />American. What a dear friend she has become to me over the years. <br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">
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I wish I had pictures to share with you of all the others. </div>
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The other day, as Kate and I were driving back to New Hope, I saw a rainstorm off in the distance. I took a picture of it. The contrast of the clear sky and the pouring rain. You can literally see where it is raining. </div>
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And shortly after snapping that picture, I saw the fruit of the rain. Can you see it?<br />
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These days I feel the mixture of emotions. Sometimes, I feel like I am standing under the torrential rain and other days, I feel as if I am watching it off in the distance. </div>
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I'm thankful for the rainbow and the promises it brings. </div>
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I'm going to sign off. I've got more peeps to see and more sounds and memories to absorb. </div>
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I'm down to the wire. Just about 48 hours left in this country. </div>
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Want to savor EVERY moment. </div>
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I love you all! </div>
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Kimberly Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14001728041319653274noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-59112666102071310332017-04-09T11:03:00.000-07:002017-04-09T11:03:30.692-07:00Manna... and lots of it! I've been waiting for the moment when the words will flow naturally from deep within. <br />
When my heart and my words will melt together and an articulate blog post will emerge. It hasn't happened. I've done what I have done so many times in recent years. Written a few words. Stared at them. And then deleted them once again. <br />
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Almost two weeks ago, I sat down and drafted out a letter A letter that <b>did</b> seem to come to life. Before I really knew it, I was bringing it to a close. There was a level of cohesiveness and a flow that offered a glimpse into my heart and a reality of steps going forward. <br />
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THIS, somehow, feels more challenging. Bringing words to a public arena.<br />
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Maybe because the public arena is exactly that. Public. Out there. Permanent. <br />
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In the beginning of February, while in England on a long layover, I received a message with a question. It was a big question. One that stopped me in my tracks and left my heart beating faster than it should have considering I was simply sitting on a bus. <br />
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When my sister passed away, she left behind 3 children. <br />
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The message/question on my phone? <br />
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The oldest needed a home. Needed a family. <br />
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Would I take him?<br />
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<b>Would I take him? </b><br />
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And thus began the journey that undoubtably comes with such a big question. <br />
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And that is a big reason why I became quiet on social media. <br />
Why I became quiet in many arenas. <br />
Why I was thankful for long car drives and opportunities to journal and pray. <br />
My heart screamed yes. <br />
But, I knew I couldn't make an emotional decision. <br />
I had to make a decision that was stamped by Jesus Himself. <br />
<br />
The days back in the States have been FULL of pondering, praying, chatting with friends, processing, processing more and figuring out details. <br />
<br />
Overall, God has FLOODED me with an immense peace. <br />
One that is confirmation in and of itself that He is leading. <br />
I've heard His whisper and I've experienced His peace. <br />
<br />
I've also been reminded of how crucial it will be to LEAN fully into Jesus. <br />
My times with Him needs to be full of all that He has to offer. <br />
<br />
My life is going to look very different. <br />
The letter I mentioned in the beginning of this blog? That was my resignation letter. <br />
<br />
In some ways, it feels like I am walking through a thicket of trees. Or if my computer has it's way with autocorrect, a thicket of tweets. <br />
<br />
So many things that are squeezing my heart. I Sorta of feel like a ripe avocado. <br />
<br />
I'm being squeezed from so many sides. <br />
<br />
A goodbye to a life I loved in Uganda.<br />
A move from one side of the ocean to another.<br />
Continued steps through grief. <br />
a processing of hard realities seen.<br />
To preparing to work stateside.<br />
And preparing to be a parent. <br />
To a little guy needing lots of sweetness. <br />
<br />
<br />
And so that is my big news. <br />
God has shifted the trajectory of my life. <br />
And the life of a little guy. <br />
<br />
I don't know all that God has for me. He has flooded me with peace and He has also shown me that I can't take my eyes off of him. If I do, then this all become VERY overwhelming. <br />
<br />
Just the emotions of all these changes can leave me feeling overwhelmed. <br />
Let alone, when I fail to cling to Him and trust His presence in THIS journey.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2Pil68cFHcY/WOl3rTO872I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/fVwaHARdUh0UUd0JlJs9shSckyslzPqYgCLcB/s1600/17821100_10158537683555055_1308590978_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2Pil68cFHcY/WOl3rTO872I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/fVwaHARdUh0UUd0JlJs9shSckyslzPqYgCLcB/s200/17821100_10158537683555055_1308590978_n.jpg" width="150" /></a>Way back in the day, as the Israelites left the the bounds of slavery and wandered the desert for 40 years en-route (a long en-route) to the Promised land, God provided them with Manna. It was a miraculously supplied food that came in the night and was picked up by the Israelites before sunrise. It was a direct reminder to them of God's provision and it was nourishment that sustained them. It also required them to get up before sunrise to gather the given substance. <br />
<br />
This is a season of manna for me. I'm walking from one land to another.... literally. Change of all types is not only on the horizon, but in the current. And God is there for me. He will provide the manna that I need. And there aren't a lot of stipulations on it. But one of the big ones is that I have to get up and get it. <br />
<br />
And so if there was one thing I would ask of you all... is that you would pray that I would lean into God like I have never done so before. That I would be filled by His manna. And His manna alone. <br />
<br />
This is NOT the end to this blog. My adventures will undoubtably look different. But I am confident that my fingers will still find there way to this page. Writing is a balm to my heart. A way to express the inwards of my heart. A place to reflect and see how God works and how He remains constant even in our rawness. Even in the squeezing of life. <br />
<br />
I'll be heading back to Uganda for about 2 weeks in May. It will be at time to say goodbye (see you later) to friends there.<br />
<br />
I am aiming to get a newsletter out this week to many of you.<br />
<br />
Till my fingers find this keyboard again. <br />
<br />
Kimberly/Kimmy/Kim<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kimberly Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14001728041319653274noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-77460425892743655722017-02-24T10:16:00.001-08:002017-02-24T10:16:22.498-08:00English Tea and Avocados<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My feet have been on US soil for just over two weeks. <div>
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EZkd_zbxsdI/WLBoqr6nXPI/AAAAAAAACdQ/MMo5ruCkCvcxS6GiUU3gupd4IcUIDB50wCLcB/s1600/16936363_10158325767390055_1369697746_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EZkd_zbxsdI/WLBoqr6nXPI/AAAAAAAACdQ/MMo5ruCkCvcxS6GiUU3gupd4IcUIDB50wCLcB/s200/16936363_10158325767390055_1369697746_o.jpg" width="171" /></a>According to my Fitbit I've barely made a dent in the 10,000 step goal each day. </div>
<div>
It's amazing how much walking I did in Uganda and how little I do here. </div>
<div>
But, if you were to ask my heart how many steps it's put in the last several weeks, it would probably be a bit out of breath to respond. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
God gave me two feet. Never did I realize that at one point in my life, I would be, at my tender, not-so young age doing splits. I've been told I am flexible, but I don't think the giver of those words was referring to my physical flexibility. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But right now, as I sit at Starbuck's drinking the closest thing to English Tea, I find myself thinking of life in Uganda. The only thing English Tea has to do with Uganda is my English friends in Uganda that have introduced me to PROPER English Tea. Oh, let me tell you there is an ART to Proper English Tea. Maybe my life is like a big game of Twister. One foot in America, One foot in Uganda, One hand in England or wherever God has me. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Are they getting rain? How are the kids doing now that they have started back up at school? </div>
<div>
What's the water level in my tank? Have the bats left my attic? How's the child I walked closely with shortly before I left? How are the staff in the clinic doing? Wishing I could hop on over and share a cuppa of tea with a friend. Would love to mess with little Mary and hold sweet Reuben. To sit with my girls and hear how they are doing. There are things I miss. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
All the while, I'm soaking in the here. The sweetness of a heating blanket, the absence of the confused roosters greeting the day at all hours of the night or the discos that wax and wane throughout the night. Long sleeves and boots. Though, I quickly realized after my arrival that short boots seem to be more in than long boots. Painting pottery and spending quality time with loved ones. Organizing and planning for upcoming trips. Hours long couch chats and holding friends babies. Yes THIS is good. </div>
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<br /></div>
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And THAT is good. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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And in the in-between.... well, it is just part of the journey God has me on. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It is it easy? No</div>
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Is it hard? Yes. </div>
<div>
It it rich? <b>You betchya.</b> </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This last month has been a cardio workout for my heart. For my soul. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The blog-world is a beautiful thing. It's a place to bring words to a page and to share what God is doing. I find that I can just as easily write out a near polished blog that honestly communicates my heart. I've felt the freedom to be honest with the joys and the challenges of ALL the adventures that God has brought me on. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And today is no different. My life currently feels like a combination of random things all mixed together. A recipe that makes doesn't make too much sense, but the end product, I trust is a satisfying bite. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Hot chocolate and Avocados. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Strawberries and Parmesan Cheese. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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chocolate and soy sauce. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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"They" Say these are great combinations. I can't say I've tried any of them. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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But "they" say. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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And while it is probably not wise to depend fully on a "they say", </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I do have a choice to depend Fully on a He says. . </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And those are the words, I have been digesting the last few weeks. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span class="text Isa-43-16" id="en-ESV-18522" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; left: -4.4em; line-height: 22px; position: absolute; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">16 </span>
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<span style="font-family: "Apple Chancery"; font-size: 16.0pt;"><span style="color: blue;">Thus
says the Lord,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Apple Chancery"; font-size: 16.0pt;"><span style="color: blue;"> who
makes a way in the sea,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Apple Chancery"; font-size: 16.0pt;"><span style="color: blue;"> a
path in the mighty waters,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="color: blue;">Isaiah 43:16</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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The words that I have been chewing on first came to me on a modern day version of Alexander and the Terrible, Very bad, No good day.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I received it as I sat at the local hospital with a child who had walked through some very hard things </div>
<div>
It was a day where grace and kindness were NOT flowing out of me. </div>
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It was a day where the waves of life felt like they were hitting me from every angle. </div>
<div>
I felt stretched more than unstretched. </div>
<div>
Weary more than not.</div>
<div>
Angry more than joyful. </div>
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Unheard more than heard. </div>
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You name it, I was probably feeling it. </div>
<div>
</div>
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That's the day it was. And truth be told. It was more than one day... it was several. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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And as I read those words, they only reached the back of my throat. </div>
<div>
I wasn't letting them make the 18 inch drop down to my soul. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That's the truth. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The pillow in my living room that said, "Today, I choose Joy". </div>
<div>
Well, I turned that pillow around. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There were reasons to explain my emotions. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I could list them. Reasons that gave understanding to the emotions. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Reasons help explain, but that's where they stop. At least I think. </div>
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I had a choice. I leaned into my Jesus. My raw, hurting heart and pressed. </div>
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With one foot in this, and one foot in that, a hand in another and a toe there... I had a choice to lift my weary arm and to touch Him. </div>
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And by ONLY His sweet grace, He took my lifted arm and helped me. </div>
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I picked up that pillow on my couch and turned it around. </div>
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I had a choice to choose JOY... and by His grace, and His grace alone, He honored the choice I made still loaded with emotion. </div>
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Little did I know that the verses given to me on my Terrible, No Good, very bad day(s) would be words that I would fall back on. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Words that would float through my heart and mind consistently. </div>
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That day, God made a way for me when hardness felt like it was pressing in from every side. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I've had the sweetness of having seen Him do it over and over. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
I haven't always had the heart and eyes to see Him as clearly as I did a month ago. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
And since stepping on a plane in Entebbe a few weeks ago, I've been presented with a Big question. One that isn't ready to be published on social media. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
One that could change the trajectory of my life. </div>
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One that I am open palmed to. </div>
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One that i am pressing into Jesus with everything I have. </div>
<div>
Asking Him to make it clear. </div>
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Asking Him to hold my heart. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
And even though my heart has vacillated between all the questions and thoughts, what He showed me a month ago remains close to my heart. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
So, with one foot in Uganda, one here, and one hand holding a question that could change much, </div>
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<br /></div>
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I lift my arm up and hold on to Him. </div>
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And I trust that </div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Apple Chancery'; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="color: blue;">Thus says the Lord,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Apple Chancery'; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="color: blue;"> who makes a way in the sea,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Apple Chancery'; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="color: blue;"> a path in the mighty waters,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: blue;">Isaiah 43:16</span></span></b></div>
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Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12573044605260599505noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-60459475275016225922017-01-18T21:18:00.000-08:002017-01-18T21:43:29.521-08:00An opening from behind and a God who hears the cries of our hearts. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I<b> c a n n o t</b> believe that I have <b>not</b> written on this blog in the last 6 weeks. <br />
Crazy. Unacceptable. And yet, it is totally what it is. <br />
I don't have a reason as to why I haven't written. <br />
To be honest, I didn't realize HOW long it had been. <br />
And when I did.... well, I had to pause. And wait for the moment the words would flow. <br />
And so here, I sit. <br />
In a tank top with a heat that dried my freshly washed floor in a matter minutes. <br />
The air is dry and the dust is picked up and thrown around at the slightest turn of the wind. <br />
And I can't seem to guzzle enough water. <br />
<br />
This morning, when I was working in the clinic, I knew my fingers were going to hit the keyboard. <br />
<br />
While I was in India, a huge container full of medical supplies came to New Hope. Months ago, that container was packed. Many things were requested for and yet, most things that came were surprises. <br />
<br />
Well, surprises to us here... but NOT surprises to Him!<br />
<br />
And that's where my heart does a big smile. <br />
<br />
Because today I saw how God answered a prayer from my heart from months ago. <br />
<br />
It wasn't a prayer that really fell from my lips. <br />
<br />
It was one of those prayers that sits heavy on your heart. <br />
<br />
Months ago, when I was completing my hours at a hospital in Kampala. A young man was brought in by a good samaritan. He had experienced serious electrical burns along with a serious head injury. It wasn't clear what happened to him. Except that he was in VERY serious condition. <br />
<br />
The clothes that he came in were removed in the hustle of providing him with care.<br />
<br />
It wasn't possible for them to be put back on. <br />
<br />
And the decision was made to shift him to another hospital. That, in and of itself, is a story for another day. <br />
<br />
And it wasn't as easy as throwing a hospital gown on him and sending him on his way. <br />
<br />
Instead, a makeshift something was rigged and placed on him to cover him. <br />
<br />
It wasn't a matter of honoring his dignity. It was a matter of NOT having something proper to cover him.<br />
<br />
And that was hard. I remember whispering to this man that while we didn't know his name.... that God knew his name. And as I stood near him, I prayed out loud that this man would know the presence of Jesus. <br />
<br />
And though the words about the lack of hospital gowns didn't fall from my lips, God heard the prayers of my heart. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PI53-jAUIfY/WIBM5Lb3iBI/AAAAAAAACco/4oyjvaXf6JovyZndsvyOkDULgmuCvNH8ACLcB/s1600/16121730_10158142232865055_1367216481_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PI53-jAUIfY/WIBM5Lb3iBI/AAAAAAAACco/4oyjvaXf6JovyZndsvyOkDULgmuCvNH8ACLcB/s320/16121730_10158142232865055_1367216481_o.jpg" width="240" /></a>And today, as I went through boxes of donations. I found myself sorting through a decent number of hospital gowns. Gowns of all sizes. Gowns that are nothing more than a large piece of cloth with two holes for arms and a gap in the behind. Literally, the BEHIND. Hey... that was a fun PUN! But a piece of material that can properly cover an individual in a very vulnerable time. <br />
<br />
And I can't wait to deliver these gowns to a few hospitals. And know that the individuals who will wear them will be blessed by something so simple. Yet so dignifying. <br />
<br />
It boggles my brain that with EVERYTHING going on in the world... that God cares not only about showing me He hears my prayers, but that He nudged someone, somewhere to donate the old hospital gowns months ago. <br />
<br />
Amazing!<br />
<br />
I'm blessed. <br />
<br />
And I'm reminded that my God HEARS my heart. <br />
<br />
And cares about His people. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12573044605260599505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-48854589583984042212016-12-01T07:17:00.000-08:002016-12-01T07:17:00.116-08:00Awesomeness! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XpZwO4gp4B8/WEA-Zl_925I/AAAAAAAACa4/O2Z1qwUlJwYNlLoVPtKeWknKEd5vOQU2wCLcB/s1600/15053414_10157777028255055_1012248715_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XpZwO4gp4B8/WEA-Zl_925I/AAAAAAAACa4/O2Z1qwUlJwYNlLoVPtKeWknKEd5vOQU2wCLcB/s320/15053414_10157777028255055_1012248715_o.jpg" width="180" /></a>And this morning, the surgeon talked us through the plan for the surgery.<br />
<br />
For the last ten plus days, Reuben has been having on and off bronchospasms.<br />
<br />
Even when his breathing has appeared normal, the CT scan showed the other day that he was having spasms. The pressure in his lung has been very high. A complication that can greatly impact not only surgery, but post-surgery. <br />
<br />
Reuben's heart really needed to be fixed. <br />
<br />
And probably the biggest challenge was the high pressure in his lungs.<br />
<br />
And in part of the plan for surgery because of the high pressure, they were going to create a hole between his atriums. <br />
<br />
And they got in... and they didn't need to. <br />
<br />
Amazing. <br />
<br />
They fixed the large hole between his ventricles. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6VzD_ioZcXs/WEA-dqTqFuI/AAAAAAAACa8/p2mGpMXlOQgOagXRIR98aFA1wvAKPUuDACLcB/s1600/15060210_10157777030655055_459860669_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6VzD_ioZcXs/WEA-dqTqFuI/AAAAAAAACa8/p2mGpMXlOQgOagXRIR98aFA1wvAKPUuDACLcB/s320/15060210_10157777030655055_459860669_o.jpg" width="320" /></a>And so, right now Reuben is deep in a medically induced lala land. <br />
A ventilator is breathing for him and will continue to do so for the next couple of days. <br />
<br />
Thank you to all of you who were praying and have been praying. <br />
<br />
I think we saw God do a miracle today.<br />
<br />
And that's pretty awesome!<br />
<br />
I'll keep you posted.<br />
<br />
Thank you all for praying!<br />
<br />
Kimberly<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>
Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12573044605260599505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-32731428976243913432016-11-30T06:49:00.003-08:002016-11-30T06:49:56.358-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
And TWO blog posts in ONE day. One was a reflection on a personal level my time over the last month. But this one.... is to officially tell you all that Reuben is slated to have surgery tomorrow I'll send out a message once surgery is over. Thank you for standing with this little guy. <br />
<br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pTrsfFM0hYU/WD7mV2A8CXI/AAAAAAAACag/pGTGjqucfIkOzH3sTboU7tV7Q4dWbJtyACLcB/s1600/15231538_10157864233835055_688491491_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pTrsfFM0hYU/WD7mV2A8CXI/AAAAAAAACag/pGTGjqucfIkOzH3sTboU7tV7Q4dWbJtyACLcB/s320/15231538_10157864233835055_688491491_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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And really that is it. It might be an early morning.... so I'll make this officially the shortest blog post ever. </div>
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Thank you! </div>
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Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12573044605260599505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-19838779354268707092016-11-30T02:54:00.000-08:002016-11-30T07:02:11.059-08:00salt spice, and WATER<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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(the formatting on this is a bit of a mess.... it won't let me fix it..... so I'll just let it be....) .... for now. <br />
<br />
Salt. </div>
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It adds flavor. </div>
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And when it is missing, it is hard to not notice. </div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/--59dHKYTroM/WD5Kz0pb6tI/AAAAAAAACZ8/eBfPhCzB2qkrqjKYG3Wz8POvqW8lj-YwgCLcB/s1600/15215854_10157864233845055_1143931808_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/--59dHKYTroM/WD5Kz0pb6tI/AAAAAAAACZ8/eBfPhCzB2qkrqjKYG3Wz8POvqW8lj-YwgCLcB/s200/15215854_10157864233845055_1143931808_o.jpg" width="200" /></a>It took nearly 3 weeks before I found the salt at the grocery store. Staying in a cardiac part of the hospital means that salt is not easily dispensed. And when you are too wimpy for the traditional spicy meals that are offered here in India on a regular basis, you are given the simple tray. The non-spicy tray. And last night, as I mixed in a little salt into the rice I felt a little conviction in my heart. K, more than a little conviction. I haven't been so content with the food. And I have been hearing the crescendo in my own heart of grumbling. Grumbling. </div>
Yearning for more variety. More flavor. More something. <br />
<br />
And yet, realizing that I am given three meals a day. <b>Three meals</b>.<br />
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I found myself thinking of the Israelites wandering the desert eating the same thing every day. </div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kTHTxXvBDTM/WD5LVQ-myuI/AAAAAAAACaA/dIzaaoHYoEQ8f76n59tSEdC_Sv7tzIzywCLcB/s1600/15224640_10157864233875055_1983140174_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kTHTxXvBDTM/WD5LVQ-myuI/AAAAAAAACaA/dIzaaoHYoEQ8f76n59tSEdC_Sv7tzIzywCLcB/s200/15224640_10157864233875055_1983140174_o.jpg" width="181" /></a>And I realized that it had only been 23 days and already I found the grumbling note. * Argh. I would not have been a good Israelite. 23 days?!?!!? But, I'm thankful that God nudged my heart. And I'm thankful that I have a choice. To be thankful for the simple tray. It is food. It is nourishment. It satisfies. </div>
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And so, today on Day number 24, I am choosing to be thankful for the food. </div>
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And I am thankful for the salt that I found in the supermarket. Just so you know... in case you are EVER in India looking for salt. It is not located in the spice section. It was up against a wall on a shelf far away from the spices. </div>
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But never mind where it was found... it WAS found. </div>
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And speaking of salt. </div>
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Salt has another effect. It creates thirst. </div>
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It's a complex process... but a process nonetheless that results in THIRST. </div>
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And with that thirst comes the need to drink. </div>
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And depending on how much salt we contain, the demands on our body. .... our body adjusts the demand for water. </div>
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And that is exactly where I am going. </div>
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When I first arrived into India, I was surprised by how intense this country is. </div>
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I'm not slamming India. I am just saying that there is a constant hustle. LOTS of people. LOTS of spice. LOTS of horns honking. And LOTS Of language that I do not understand. </div>
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That coupled with little sleep, a sick little guy, and a process that was taking longer than expected..... </div>
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There were a few days were I was feeling overwhelmed. </div>
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And a friend back in Uganda gave me the BEST analogy ever! </div>
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Her husband cooked up a spicy meal. A type of spice where the spice only seemed to increase as more food was consumed. The jug on the table was refilled with water... and refilled... and refilled... and refilled... multiple times. </div>
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Everyone needed more water to soothe the spice that clung to to their mouths. Even if that spice was good... </div>
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And that analogy was true for me. </div>
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My typical time with Jesus was good. But, I was in a land of spice... a land of different.... a land foreign to me... and with that, I NEEDED more water. The water I was taking wasn't enough. </div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aFZeBv2Dslk/WD5aCtQ7xII/AAAAAAAACaQ/N5FCK1iMfyQPFWFYmZ5zN1TchNKnVsTgQCLcB/s1600/15224713_10157873059770055_1267167919_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aFZeBv2Dslk/WD5aCtQ7xII/AAAAAAAACaQ/N5FCK1iMfyQPFWFYmZ5zN1TchNKnVsTgQCLcB/s320/15224713_10157873059770055_1267167919_o.jpg" width="180" /></a>I NEEDED more. And that's what I have been trying to do. Being more intentional in drinking from the Living Water. And as I have nestled into my Jesus. The horns have still honked (do they ever!). The spice has still remained. I still don't understand a bit of the language. And the process has still been slower than I envisioned. <b>But God.</b> He has met me. And when I have forgotten that I am thirsty..... I find myself thinking of Salt, Spices, and Water.... and the NEED to get more Water from my God. </div>
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John 7:37</div>
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<span class="text John-7-37" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><sup class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">37 </sup><sup class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-ESV-26354A" data-link="(<a href="#cen-ESV-26354A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></sup>On the last day of the feast, the great day, Jesus stood up and cried out, <span class="woj" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><sup class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-ESV-26354B" data-link="(<a href="#cen-ESV-26354B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></sup>“If anyone thirsts, let him <sup class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-ESV-26354C" data-link="(<a href="#cen-ESV-26354C" title="See cross-reference C">C</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></sup>come to me and drink.</span></span> </div>
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And with that.... Let me grab my water. </div>
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And later on today... I think I am going to post another BLOG..... You will see why later..... </div>
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Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12573044605260599505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-27536740805159128582016-11-20T08:01:00.003-08:002016-11-20T08:01:57.530-08:00God in the Details<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Last night, I settled on the plastic hospital mattress and opened up my computer. <br />
I had plans of working on my newsletter. The one that I have managed to start and stop probably 6 times in the last 7 months.<br />
Being in the hospital with Reuben has brought me back to my days of working night shift as a nurse in a huge hospital in Chicago. And all the times, I made a ruckus in the night as I provided care to the patients. When you are the caretaker to a patient (and I presume the patient), you hear EVERYTHING. The shuffle of feet, the vital machines being whisked to and fro, the chattering amongst the nurses.... the list goes on. <br />
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And plastic mattresses. They are brilliant for the most obvious reasons. <br />
And yet, there is something about the way that the sheets glide over a plastic mattress. <br />
You think you are all settled only to quickly realize that the flat sheet used as the fitted sheet is anywhere but where it should be. <br />
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But, back to what I was writing about. <br />
Last night, despite being tired... I felt the push to write.<br />
And so knowing that there is a deadline to the newsletter, I figured I should respond to the push and bring fingers to the keyboard. <br />
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I've never been diagnosed.... but it is probably VERY safe to say that I can have the attention span of a fly. <br />
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So, I wrote a little on my newsletter.... wrote a bit on a blog post.... and kept checking Facebook. <br />
even chatted with a friend on Facebook. <br />
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And in between that, I fed Reuben. Slowly, slowly the formula went down the tube that goes in his nostril and down into his stomach. He was a little squirmy... but towards the end of the feed, he was sound asleep. <br />
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Part of the blog post I wrote about was about not so serious things. But good things none the less. <br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kJqb2TJtaVM/WDHCcp8HzoI/AAAAAAAACYA/CAkNNg0tUEs9H2Mf_gCf-jyEotkDTq9oQCLcB/s1600/15102227_10157822280605055_345409235_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kJqb2TJtaVM/WDHCcp8HzoI/AAAAAAAACYA/CAkNNg0tUEs9H2Mf_gCf-jyEotkDTq9oQCLcB/s200/15102227_10157822280605055_345409235_o.jpg" width="112" /></a>Like ordering a pizza with basil and actually receiving a pizza with basil. (it doesn't always happen...just saying) </div>
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Or hanging with Reuben's older foster sister and watching her giggle as she ran around a gym built for kids. </div>
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And ordering a FOUNTAIN coca cola from a coca cola restaurant. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">shopping with Mary. Winter Fleece long socks....<br />Made us giggle. I can't imagine it getting cold enough to warrant these....<br />but.... they must sell..... <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Or ordering a greek salad (with watermelon) and absolutely enjoying it... only to realize shortly thereafter.... that eating salads in India is probably NOT the best idea. (no offense India). </div>
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That was what I wrote about last night. And I very much enjoyed writing about it. <br />
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But, what I didn't write about was the reality that this time in India is a patience builder. That it's hard waiting for a surgery that is not being scheduled as quickly as we would like. A surgery that is so needed. A culture that is so different than what I have come to known in Uganda. How many times do I look a man in the eyes and greet them. And then remember.... you aren't supposed to do that here. <br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-heNpSmmmjI4/WDHChPbzB5I/AAAAAAAACYI/bdFXsZ6cM20-_LB9CDLQzflQ103YVhEFQCLcB/s1600/14976258_10157777029000055_2032628918_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-heNpSmmmjI4/WDHChPbzB5I/AAAAAAAACYI/bdFXsZ6cM20-_LB9CDLQzflQ103YVhEFQCLcB/s320/14976258_10157777029000055_2032628918_o.jpg" width="180" /></a>It's a path that is narrow with the pressure of the unknowns, worries, and concerns of the today and the tomorrows. <br />
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It is the season of walking with a friend who is foster momma to this sweet little guy. <br />
And walking with Reuben's foster sister <br />
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The days are Full. They are rich. They are bonding. And they are stretching. They are tiring. <br />
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They are.... not a mistake to our God. Each of these moments are known to Him. <br />
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And so God nudged me last night to bring my fingers to the keyboard.... to work on a newsletter that should have been written 7 months ago. And while I did make a bit of progress on it, I believe that God used that time of writing to keep me awake. <br />
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Reuben's breathing was ok when I put him down to sleep following his feed. <br />
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However, as I closed my computer and settled near him on the plastic mattress, I heard the change in his breathing. The change came on quick. And it became clear pretty quick that he needed more care. <br />
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And within a few hours, after a few visits from the on-call doctor, respiratory therapist, and the attentive care of nurses with not the desired response... I picked up Reuben wrapped a striped hospital sheet over him and together with oxygen tubing and a few nurses brought him down to the Intensive Care Unit. <br />
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As all the nurses came around the bedside, I sent out a message to my friends. Asking them to pray. <br />
yes, for Reuben. But also for me. We both needed prayer. Different needs... but still needs none the less. <br />
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He was a trooper. And I was relieved he was somewhere were He would receive the extra care that he needed. <br />
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And as I settled into the bed and dozed, I was thankful for my God who went before me. And was with me. And with Reuben. And his momma. And his sister. <br />
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My God who kept me awake and allowed me to see the change. For the attentive nurse that was working last night. She saw the concern and didn't sit on it. Even God's choice of doctor was sweet. <br />
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Details were being taken care of.<br />
And details continue being taken care of.<br />
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And so with a heart that embraces these journeys, but also has to navigate the emotions and hurdles that come with, I know I will sleep a bit more deeply tonight as I have been reminded of His presence in very tangible ways specifically with Reuben<br />
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We can see God in the fun things of life.... but I believe that we can also see Him just as equally in the hard. I would be to say sometimes, we can see Him more deeply in the hard. <br />
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And I am thankful for that.<br />
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I'm thankful that He holds it all. <br />
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And with that, I say goodnight. It's nearly 9:30 in my neck of the woods and sleep is calling my name. <br />
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Loudly.<br />
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Thank you. <br />
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If you feel led, can you please pray for continued strength for Reuben. <br />
For a plan for surgery from the surgeons. We were told this week. We pray for surgery this week... but no matter what, that we would know His peace. And that we would remember that God is in the details and goes before the details. <br />
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Love to you All! <br />
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Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12573044605260599505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-67800753829808756422016-11-10T22:59:00.000-08:002016-11-10T22:59:20.190-08:00Spicy Food, a little lad, and waiting for answers.... <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IFRTmjd8hiQ/WCVTs91n0xI/AAAAAAAACWs/aCc_M8f53zU2G1SGVR5xxwURYoIbUJ_OQCLcB/s1600/15034256_10157777030000055_596592546_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IFRTmjd8hiQ/WCVTs91n0xI/AAAAAAAACWs/aCc_M8f53zU2G1SGVR5xxwURYoIbUJ_OQCLcB/s200/15034256_10157777030000055_596592546_o.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KyQPjBt6W4k/WCVTmqquJ_I/AAAAAAAACWg/VGZpOQ5l4OsAxTXG8T7XGchY5W8Gae2CACLcB/s1600/15007559_10157777029615055_894975440_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KyQPjBt6W4k/WCVTmqquJ_I/AAAAAAAACWg/VGZpOQ5l4OsAxTXG8T7XGchY5W8Gae2CACLcB/s200/15007559_10157777029615055_894975440_o.jpg" width="200" /></a>Hello from India! I don't know what India is technically known for... but I would say hello from the land of honking horns, spicy food, and LOTS of people. We reached here Monday morning after a long journey from Uganda. Things went smoothly in our journey over. There was a pause at immigration, but for how it could have been, the pause was amazing. Reuben did well on the flight. As the plane ascended, his oxygen levels descended a bit. The airlines were amazing and hooked him up to oxygen without any pause and/or fear. Shortly after we landed and gathered our luggage, we went outside and were connected with the man who would be taking us to the hospital. And we were off. I thought driving in Uganda was an adventure... and it is. But if driving in Uganda is an adventure, being a passenger in a vehicle in India is an adventure in capital letters. ADVENTURE. Mix that with very little sleep (maybe 30 minutes in 24 hours) and you are left with two choices. Engage in the adventure or disengage. I weakingly chose the latter. (or wisely) and fell asleep. After arriving at the hospital, things started moving almost immediately. Reuben was brought down for his first test and I went out to pick up needed supplies for our upcoming time in India. A lady that is connected with an organization that one of our New Hope Staff is connected with met us and helped show us the ropes. What a GIFT. Much of this week has been waiting. And being. And chatting with doctors/surgeons. And stepping into a deeper level of trust. </div>
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Not only with Reuben. </div>
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Though that is a significant part of it. </div>
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Isn't he ADORIABLE? </div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">The tests are showing that he has pulmonary hypertension and that reality puts an added risk to him having surgery to fix his heart. The hope is that </span><b style="text-align: left;">today</b><span style="text-align: left;"> we will hear whether or not he will be able to have surgery or not. It is a whole lot of waiting. And trusting that God knows what is best for this little man. </span><b style="text-align: left;">Please pray</b><span style="text-align: left;"> for wisdom, for peace, and for direction. </span></div>
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Just a few days after we arrived, we woke up to discover that some of our currency notes no longer carried any weight. Like <b>no weight</b>. In a country that is primarily cash driven, this has huge implications for many. It was a surprise decision by the government that was announced the evening before. I could probably write a blog post just on that situation but let's just say money drives a lot of things. And when the value of money is yanked... it leaves you a bit...mmmmm... unsure. unnerved. It is not everyday that one wakes up to most of their money having no value.<br />
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But.... </div>
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He has been taking care of us. </div>
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The hospital has been mostly providing us all with lunch. </div>
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The guesthouse we are staying at is allowing us to charge things to our room. </div>
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The transport to and from the hospital is included with our room. </div>
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And we have a few dollars worth of currency in the smaller notes. </div>
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And so we are waiting. </div>
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And trusting. </div>
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That He is holding little Reuben close to His heart. </div>
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For I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, "Fear not, I am the one who helps you."</div>
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We don't know how God will help little Reuben... but what we DO know is that He will help Him. </div>
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Will you pray along with me for baby Reuben, for his foster momma, and for his big sister Mary? </div>
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That no matter what today brings, that all hearts would KNOW His voice and presence? </div>
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<br />Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12573044605260599505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-76377781575308462782016-11-05T21:03:00.000-07:002016-11-05T21:03:30.111-07:00About to fly.... <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Good Morning. </div>
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It is quite early. </div>
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My hair is straightened and my suitcase is NEARLY packed. </div>
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My list of things to do includes just a few more things. </div>
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The sun has somehow greeted the day. </div>
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And it just over an hour, I will leave Kasana and head to Entebbe. </div>
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And later this afternoon, we will board plane one of two that will take us to India. </div>
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This little chap will be, God willing, having surgery this coming week. He is 8 months old and has a serious heart condition. An organization has sponsored him and his surgery! </div>
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This is huge. And it is amazing. </div>
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My friend Kate, another staff member here at New Hope, took in Reuban earlier this year. </div>
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I was asked by New Hope to go to be Reuban's medical advocate. </div>
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He is a fragile, little lad with a determined spirit. </div>
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Will you pray for little Reuban? That he does well on the flights? That the surgeons would have steady hands and clear minds as they work on him? </div>
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For wisdom? </div>
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For his foster momma and his foster sister as we all travel?</div>
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Thank you. </div>
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Thank you so much. My passport is down to 3 pages. It is only about 4 years old. </div>
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You all have been such key parts to so many of those journeys. </div>
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Journeys here, multiple trips to Kenya, and today, a trip to India. </div>
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Yesterday, I put up my Christmas Tree. And I pulled out the Christmas Spruce tree scent sticks </div>
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And so my house smells like spruce and last night the lights on the tree sparkled sweetly. </div>
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I rest in the hope of HIM in these coming days. </div>
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He knows what He has planned for little Reuban. </div>
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Than you for standing with me. </div>
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Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12573044605260599505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-70660705976965779822016-10-28T13:17:00.000-07:002016-10-28T21:47:59.713-07:00white bags, lions, and sweetness<div>
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Right now, I'm looking out a small window to my left and seeing not only the ground below me, but the massive right engine of the B787 that is taking me from Johannesburg to Nairobi. My next stop after Nairobi will be Entebbe. So help me if that is NOT the engine of the plane. I'm definitely not wired to understand things in the mechanical realm, so have grace for me if the engine is really somewhere else. Either way, I'm all buckled in and listening to the hum of the engines which is much stronger than the chatter and movement of those around me. <br />
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No birds greeting me from a distance. Or knocks on the wooden door of my house. </div>
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And thankfully, on this flight... the sky is a dull blue and the warmth of the sun is palpable. </div>
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Not like the last flight I took where the sky was lighting up with bolts of lightening extending from one side of the sky to the other. The plane lurched and my stomach plummeted. And I dreaded the realization that the little white bag provided in the backseat pouch of the plane might need to be utilized. As the bolts of lightening lit the sky up and the plane swayed and jolted uncomfortably, I found my heart uneasy. Unsure. Nervous. </div>
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When we finally landed, my heart exhaled. My stomach took a bit longer. Thankfully, the white bag and I never became friends. At least not on that flight. </div>
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Why am I talking about vomit bags? That is a good question. I have no idea. </div>
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We shall see if the previous sentences remain or if they get deleted as I write. <br />
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Why am I mentioning planes? Well, because planes are what brought me from Entebbe, Uganda to Cape Town, South Africa. And smacked in between of those flights was a whole lot of sweetness. </div>
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Earlier this year, a friend sent me information about a conference for missionary women. I remember looking through the information and wondering if it would be possible for me to go. It was put on by an amazing organization called THRIVE. It's an ministry in the States that literally goes around the world setting up retreats for missionary women. The women from the States who come, come to serve and love on those who re working overseas. It was a double blessing. To be poured in by women and to be able to interact with other women who understand all the joys and challenges of living on this beautifully amazing continent of Africa. </div>
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And so I went. And it was a time of awesomeness. It was such a gift to be with other women. It was such a gift to exhale. I watched as God orchestrated some sweet interactions. He had His own agenda for me during those days and I was thankful to be able to see Him orchestrating the details of my day. </div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F46NMfuWJOQ/WBOwknWr1eI/AAAAAAAACVA/-EVMOtAtWTA2Nm0w9GgpIkaM1DiAj3wUgCLcB/s1600/IMG-20161022-WA0003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F46NMfuWJOQ/WBOwknWr1eI/AAAAAAAACVA/-EVMOtAtWTA2Nm0w9GgpIkaM1DiAj3wUgCLcB/s320/IMG-20161022-WA0003.jpg" width="240" /></a>Today, I stopped at the grocery store at the airport. (Brilliant!) and picked up a variety of fun foods. Raspberries, nectarines, peaches, dried fruit, and cheddar cheese. All high delicacies. I'm excited to share them. </div>
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And so, since my fingers first started tapping away on the keyboard, I've since landed into Nairobi. the sun just went down a short while ago. The raspberries didn't like the altitude and started bleeding through the container. Yeah.... NOT so cool. My journal will probably carry the scar of this adventure forever. But it's a good scar. Reflective of a good time. </div>
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In a short bit, I'll hope my final plane, settle into my seat, and nearly as quickly as I will be up in the air, the plane will start coming down. And I'll be home. </div>
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And speaking of Home.... I need to write another blog post. There is never a dull moment in my life. Never. And speaking of moments. I have yet another blog post to write. </div>
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Hold me to it. What I have to share is exciting. </div>
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In the meantime, I covet your prayers. I already jumped back into work heading from South Africa to here and in this next week is, from what I know, going to be FULL. </div>
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I anticipate that it will be full of... </div>
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Some drug shopping... </div>
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meeting with the young ladies that I mentor.... </div>
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working in the clinic... </div>
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starting and finishing the clinic budget for 2017 (I may or may not have procrastinated on this!)</div>
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going to the Indian Embassy (please pray for favor! and Yes, this is part of the next blog post) </div>
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packing.... </div>
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and keeping my eyes on Him in the process. </div>
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Much love to you all! </div>
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Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12573044605260599505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-12218471240439684522016-10-07T12:36:00.001-07:002016-10-07T13:01:23.623-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
This is the look of a little boy who is not so sure of the world around him. </div>
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The one thing that is FOR sure for him right now is that his momma is nearby. </div>
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He reaches out or snuggles into her almost constantly. </div>
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Everything else in his life is a bit unknown. </div>
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Yesterday, he went in for surgery. </div>
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He woke up and one of his first statements to his momma was that "they took my intestines". </div>
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So much of what has been known to this little boy is now different. </div>
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And if he was brutally honest, I think he would say that he's not so sure about it. </div>
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He looks often from the corner of his eyes. </div>
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Timid. </div>
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Nervous. </div>
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A bit afraid. </div>
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Not sure. </div>
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What he doesn't know is that his life is now different. </div>
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And that difference is a good thing. </div>
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No more will stool leak out of an unpredictable, malfunctioning hole on his abdomen.</div>
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Starting yesterday, stool should and God-willing will follow a tunnel and exit his body just as it does for millions of people everyday.</div>
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And while that is a good thing. </div>
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Little Ayeko isn't so sure. </div>
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His stuffed bear thought the toilet was a great idea. </div>
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Ayeko was much more happy sipping on juice than giving his stuffed bear too much thought. </div>
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Especially when his bear was sitting on a toilet. </div>
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In fact, when I snapped a family picture. Ayeko tried to push Mr. Bear sitting on the toliet AWAY from him and his momma. </div>
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But we celebrate what this little guy isn't so up to celebrating right now. </div>
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We celebrate for what is to come. </div>
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For how this little guys life will be different. </div>
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And with that celebration, comes a sweet smile to my face. </div>
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And I know to so many others. </div>
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It's ok little man. Drink your juice. </div>
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Lean into your momma and feel the warmth and safety of her embrace. </div>
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That's the perfect place to be. </div>
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And on a personal note. </div>
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Today, I'm wishing I could nestle into my family. </div>
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To be with them all the way over that great, big ocean. </div>
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Below is my sister's Mr. Bear. </div>
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Patched and straggly from years of love. </div>
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He outlived my sister. </div>
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Today, she would have been 29. </div>
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And today, as I helped Ayeko's bear on to the toilet, I found my own heart </div>
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remembering my sister's bear. </div>
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And remembering her. </div>
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And thinking of her family. </div>
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For her own babies who are surely missing their momma today. </div>
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My sister who was a treasure. </div>
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And always she will be. </div>
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And so tonight, I'm thinking of my siblings, my sis's family, and my parents. </div>
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And I'm leaning into my Jesus. </div>
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It's the perfect place for my heart to be.</div>
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And OH MY WORD. THIS is the outfit I wore (plus some stylish boots) when I met up with Sylvia last year... and she looked me up and down and "admired" my outfit. And by admired... I mean... she got a kick out of my style. Oh..... that memory is a gift to me tonight. I will always love my sister. </div>
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And I LOVE the sweet things that God has for me.... </div>
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The gift of walking with those He puts in front of me. </div>
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For today, it was little Ayeko. And that kid is VERY lovable. </div>
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Very. </div>
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L.O.V.A.B.L.E</div>
<br />Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12573044605260599505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-16445197918402037452016-10-05T11:06:00.001-07:002016-10-05T11:08:57.702-07:00Tilling the land<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Tonight is the night. </div>
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THIS very moment is the moment. </div>
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I'm bringing my rusty fingers to the keyboard and writing. </div>
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The normal sounds of the evening aren't around me. Tonight, I am writing from Kampala where I am currently sitting on on an orange couch watching TLC at a guesthouse that has been like a third home to me this year. </div>
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It's not every day that one sits on an orange couch. </div>
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It's not every day that one gets to watch TLC. (at least not in my neck of the woods)</div>
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And it's not every day that you get to meet up with a little one as CUTE as this one. </div>
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Isn't he adorable? I had barely greeted his grandpa, mom, and him before I yanked out my camera to take a picture. I saw the warmth in his demeanor... the calmness of his heart... and I wanted that side of this little guy captured. And so I started snapping. </div>
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Ayeko John William. </div>
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Tomorrow, he will take his second trip to the operating theatre at International Hospital and will God Willing, he will come out of the theatre with well working INTERNAL plumbing. </div>
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An amazing organization Willing and Abel who have sponsored the care of this little guy. It has been SUCH an honor to be able to walk with him and his family. </div>
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I have a feeling that this little guys self confidence will only increase as his more timid and fearful nature will reduce. And I can only pray and trust that as He grows older, He will know how His God took care of Him. </div>
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I covet your prayers for this little man as He goes under the knife tomorrow morning. </div>
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I'll keep you posted on how things go. </div>
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Before I sign out, I wanted to share a few other bits and pieces of my life. </div>
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Nothing super deep tonight. Though, be default of personality, I tend to go deep. So, Let's just say that I'll till the soil. Does one till the soil? Or is it a different word? I have no idea. </div>
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But, I know that these weeks have been FULL. </div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OoyvYfTIAKw/V_U4Lj_5bHI/AAAAAAAACRo/uUYS9CFEfhsbr_0uXeXDiuEdI7HhCyXWwCLcB/s1600/e8daa60ab7de097678335c220e876b9d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OoyvYfTIAKw/V_U4Lj_5bHI/AAAAAAAACRo/uUYS9CFEfhsbr_0uXeXDiuEdI7HhCyXWwCLcB/s200/e8daa60ab7de097678335c220e876b9d.jpg" width="200" /></a>Full of eating steamed bananas with young women as they share their hearts and ask thought provoking, deep questions. Questions that have left me digging deeper. Tilling Deep into the soil of my own heart. And at times helping to hold the hoe as these young women allow their hearts to be tilled. I've savored the times with these young ladies. Hearts that are softening towards their Jesus. And softening towards allowing their hearts to open.... and to be known. </div>
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Yesterday, I was eating a quick lunch in the clinic. It was one of those days where your list of things to do is a nearly a mile long. It was a day full of mostly kiddos coming to the clinic. Lots of coughs and colds and upset stomaches. Thankfully, not as much malaria. Something seems to be making its way around. There were lots of lungs to listen to, skin rashes to look at, and just as many opportunities to squeeze a shoulder and/or give a hug. Just around lunch time, the barometric pressure did whatever it does just before the clouds explode. And at just about the moment, I looked outside to see one of my friends working in her garden. She was determined to work for a few minutes. What caught my attention was her careful holding of the hoe and the fact that she was not wearing garden clothes. She had come straight from the office. Void of gum boots she was at the mercy of any little critters or slithery things that could slither or critter her way. And so... with giggles deep within my heart, I decided to go help a sister out. </div>
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And by help, I mean really just go and laugh together. And then when the cloud couldn't hold the water anymore and the drops started dropping like little torpedoes..... we ran our respective ways. Her back to her house... and me back to the clinic. </div>
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About a month ago, one of our girls was playing soccer with the boys. And in the process of playing soccer with the boys, she fell. And the end result of that fall was a very significant and bad fracture of her humerus bone. She had surgery and at her last review, there was concern about how the bones were healing. She had very limited movement of her elbow joint. And so, we have been spending some good amount of time together. Exercising and stretching her arm. One of the teachers at school is also spending good amounts of time helping with the same exercises. </div>
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Slowly Slowly... her arm is loosening up... and her range of motion is increasing at a very encouraging pace. Hugely Awesome. </div>
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These days have been full of variety. I've been continuing to declutter the clinic.... finding homes for what can be homed and unhoming things that need to be. It feels good to see things becoming increasingly organized. A team from the States came and did some AMAZING painting in the clinic. It looks AMAZING. A few of the ladies on the team were nurses and they also helped a LOT with going through things of old...and seeing what could and what couldn't be used. </div>
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I wish I had pictures this very moment... but I don't. ) : </div>
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<span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: "arimo" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: justify;">Heal me, O LORD, and I shall be healed; save me, and I shall be saved, for you are my praise.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: "arimo" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: justify;">Jeremiah 17:4</span></div>
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This verse was written up on the walls. </div>
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The type of healing we experience from God is not always how we expect it and/or want it... but what is assured is that We will be healed. I cling to that. And have clung to that truth countless times in the last several years. </div>
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There is so much more to say. I am really hoping that I can bring my now, not so rusty fingers to the keyboard soon. </div>
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I yearn to share more about what He is doing. Exciting things coming up..... and steps walked worth sharing.</div>
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I am thankful for you all. And your Sweet and Amazing presence on THIS journey that He has me on. </div>
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He is GOOD. </div>
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He is LIFE.</div>
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<br />Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12573044605260599505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-26221295224736318212016-09-04T11:14:00.001-07:002016-09-04T11:14:26.804-07:00Dirty cards and a bit of cleaning...Ha. There is nothing like opening up a blank blog page and picking up the cuppa of tea only to take a sip and realize that there is more in the cup than tea, milk, and sugar. Yes, I just managed to take a gulp of tea and bug. Thankfully, I realized it quickly and spit it all out. <br />
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I no longer have a cup of tea to my left... but I do have a commitment to fill this blog page. </div>
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I wrote out a near complete blog post on Saturday night. My fingers were cracking and I was having fun putting it together. But, I sorta of got distracted by a late night trip to the hospital. </div>
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And I figure that that post needs a bit tweaking before I will hit publish in the right upper corner of the screen. </div>
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And I can't wait for the tweaking of that post to unfold. I have left you all in the dark LONG enough. </div>
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The last weeks have run. I still can't wrap my brain around the fact that it is September. September?</div>
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But alas, it is September and I feel like the rest of the year is only going to run that much faster. </div>
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On Friday afternoon, I met up with one of the young ladies that I have the privilege of walking life with. It was report card day and after picking up her report card, I met her down the road in Kiwoko for a quick bite to eat. We each ate traditional Ugandan food and chatted through her grades. It was a rather simple discussion, but the fruit of having spent time together over the last months was evident. As I was taking my last bites of steamed bananas, we had identified a very likely reason for her low grades and had somehow agreed on a plan of going forward. Shortly thereafter, we stopped by the local police station. We had bumped into one of the local detectives at the restaurant and he told me I needed to stop by. The reason? Because my driving permits and credit/debit cards that had been stolen from my house months ago.. had been found out in the bush. While most of my cards had been replaced, I was very thankful to find that my Indiana Driver's License, while very dirty, had been among the cards found. </div>
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And so with dirty cards....but cards nonetheless in my wallet, I dropped off the young lady and returned back to New Hope. I was just ahead of the rain and made it home to find my friend at my house bringing my laundry off the line. The rain was coming and my clothes and bed linens were nearly dry. Shortly after bringing them in and sitting down in the chairs in my living room, my friend and I sat and shared. I'm thankful for opportunities to pour into and am equally thankful for those who pour into me. Often it happens simultaneously. </div>
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I think there is so much I can share. I met up with little Ayeko a few weeks back. He had a pretty important test... the last one before his final surgery would be scheduled. I picked him, his dad, and grandpa up early on a Monday morning. Almost as soon as the car door was shut, his dad let me know he was sick. And he was! Bless His precious heart. I was so thankful that we were able to get the important medical test finished. As soon as he was done with that, we hopped in the car and drove to the hospital. There, blood work confirmed what was suspected. His body had a very high malaria count. The doctor in Kampala wanted to admit him right then and there. But knowing, I needed to get back to New Hope for work the following day and also that there is a good hospital a handful of kilometers away, we had the doctor document his needs and ensured that the first dose of malaria treatment and IV antibiotics were in and then hopped back int he car for the ride out to Kiwoko. It is absolutely amazing what ONE day of medication and a whole lot of prayer can do for a little man. </div>
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Prayerfully, his surgery will happen in the near future. </div>
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It's been near full force back in the clinic. Malaria seems to be in a quiet stretch right now... AMEN to that! We've been seeing lots of coughs, colds, and body-aches. There have been a few near broken bones and one young girl who SERIOUSLY and quite impressively BROKE her bone. Her teacher brought her into the clinic and I wasn't sure if I was looking at her elbow dislocated or a bone in the wrong place. Painful. And broken. In the end, she needed surgery to repair the badly broken bone. A tough cookie I don't think I would have been that brave... or strong. </div>
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One of the things that I have been doing over the last handful of weeks is DEEP cleaning the clinic. There are boxes of things from years past. Old medical books, magazines, medical supplies long past their time, and a variety of medications. Most of the medications and supplies are too old to be used. And it is a process to sort through the stuff. Mixed into a lot of that stuff are treasures. Gauze pads can be resterilized. Things with one purpose can just as easily be used in a different way. For example, I found multiple packs of laparotomy sponges. Yes, at one time, they were graciously donated to the clinic. The only problem is.... laparotomy sponges are used by a surgeon to soak up blood in huge operations. Not so practical in our clinic. BUT.... they are EXCELLENT dusting towels. </div>
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All this cleaning has been good. I have enjoyed organizing and sorting through things. </div>
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This morning in church, I found myself paralleling the cleaning of the clinic to my own life. This season, God has been opening the door of areas of my heart that I thought had already been sorted... and in some ways, had already been organized. But, what I've realized is that there is still plenty of stuff that needs to be cleared out.... and while it's not exactly what I would have put on my agenda, I'm realizing that there are pockets of treasures. I've been able to sit and pour out my heart to Jesus more so in the last month of my life than I have in a LONG time. Maybe that is why I've been a bit quiet on this blog. My heart and soul have been writing novels to my Jesus. Together we have looked at the things of old... the things I sorta of thought had been discarded ages ago.... and yet am realizing that bits have remained. </div>
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And so, I'll keep cleaning that clinic. I'll celebrate the treasures found and keep burning the things no longer usable. And soon enough, the clinic will be that much more organized. There will be that much more space for other things along the way. The cleaning takes time. It's a bit of work. But it is good. The end result is good. And even the process in between is good. </div>
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I have several pictures to make this blog a bit more interesting...BUT the internet is acting a fool and I can't seem to get my pictures from my phone to my computer.... let alone uploaded to this blog. My temptation would be to wait... but instead, I'm going to hit send. </div>
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I love you all.... am so thankful for you all... and am so blessed to have you along on the journey God has me here. It is a gift to be where He has me. And it is a gift to know you all. </div>
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Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12573044605260599505noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5787206385043154359.post-59982130633056481112016-07-27T11:29:00.002-07:002016-07-27T11:29:33.233-07:00Not a mistake.... I am on a mission. <div>
I've just written nearly a million emails... ( : </div>
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I'm making my list of things to do. </div>
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I'm feeling VERY productive. </div>
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The power has gone on and off several times. </div>
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But as of right now, the power is on. </div>
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The generator has since become quiet. </div>
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I am wide awake. Though, I best be heading to sleep sometime soon. </div>
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I just wanted to hop on and let you all know that the 2 months time at the hospital are nearly finished. </div>
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The 40 required days.... are now down to 2. </div>
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I have been stretched in huge ways. And my heart has been led. </div>
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When the council told me that they were requiring me to complete 8 weeks in a hospital.... my heart was not so happy. To be brutally honest, my pride took a hit. And I just wasn't up for what I was being asked to do. Some of it was practical. Nursing training is so different here than there. And I wasn't up for any more dying. I felt like I was maxed out on it. I told God I couldn't do it. </div>
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And after my heart calmed down, I heard His whisper.... His assurance that this was not a mistake. </div>
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I let His whisper trickle VERY slowly down through my ears and into my soul. </div>
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I am thankful for His patience. </div>
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And I am smiling as I write. It hasn't been all easy. </div>
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I've held many hands. Prayed with some. Laughed with others. And swallowed the lump in my throat on a good handful of others. </div>
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Made strong connections with nurses and had to submit my ways of doing things to how things are done here. There has been bending and there has been a few times where I have politely declined to bend. </div>
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I've compressed the chest of a man a few years my junior and just recently compressed the chest of girl younger than my niece. Neither survived. </div>
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I held the hand of a man only known as unknown, unknown. I remember telling him... God knows exactly who you are. </div>
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God whispered to my heart that this was the way to go. </div>
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And in His whisper, there was no guarantee that it would be easy. </div>
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I felt maxed out on death... but I think that God knew I wasn't as maxed out as I thought I was. </div>
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Maybe my recent journey's on the path of mourning allowed me to walk with others just beginning. </div>
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As my time comes to an end, I can honestly say that I am thankful of the time. I know with a confidence that only comes from Him that these days were not a mistake... and honestly have been used by Him on a much larger scale. </div>
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He is leading. And I am following. </div>
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And in less than 48 hours, I will wrap up my last day at the hospital and treat myself to a chocolate croissant. </div>
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and I will Smile, not because it has all been peachy rosy dandy..... (quite the contrare)... but because I can truly say that my time wasn't a mistake. </div>
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Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12573044605260599505noreply@blogger.com0