A twisted path....

I feel like I start so many of my blogs the same way.  

I verbalize the struggle to bring words from my soul to my fingers.  

I often talk about the sounds and scenery surrounding me.  

Somehow, it helps my fingers warm up.  

Somehow, it allows the words to flow more smoothly from within my heart.  

And so, here I sit.  Not sure who my audience is or if these words will even make a debut on my blog.  But I'm writing.  If anyone, it's for me and my Jesus.  

And for old kicks sake.... or new sakes, I bring words to my surroundings.  I have some worship music slowly coming from the speakers of my computer.  A car just honked outside and I can hear the slow bustle of traffic.  No chickens yet.  I haven't quite reached Uganda.  Instead, I hear a few birds greeting the day.  My friend's husband is mixing something in the kitchen.  I can hear the clink of the spoon against something and anticipate that the microwave will turn on any minute.  The day has begun.  I've been awake for just over 2 hours.  That's pretty good.  Jet lag has been kind to me.  A 12 hour jump forward in time and I've only had a few times of the jet-lag fog.  

That's pretty good.  I'll take it... no complaints coming from me.  

I'll be hopping on another jet plane soon. This time, the once seemingly long 5 plus hour flight will pale in comparison to the 15 plus hour flight i just took.   

Leaving the States and preparing to fly over the ocean was a bit more emotional than I expected.  

Grief seems to be a journey that has a lot of twists and turns.  And it doesn't seem merciful to whether or not you have journeyed it before.  

It's there. 

It's here in my heart. 

And yet, I refuse to let it reign over me.  To deny it would be wrong.  To allow it control over my heart would be equally wrong.  And so, today I acknowledge that it remains.  

Remains.

It's there.  My heart and mind often wander to memories of my sister.  And to her family.  

God has graciously brought memories to mind.  

Good conversations.  

Laughter.  

Lots of laughter.  

Grief.  It's a loaded experience.  The twists and turns can be daunting.  And I've realized that Grief demands your attention.  You can't stuff it, deny it, run from it, or really avoid it.  

It is there.  

In the thereness, I have done my fair share of letting the tears fall. I've smiled through those tears as memories floated through my heart and mind.  I've struggled to believe that she really is gone. I've been tempted to text her, send her a message, call her.  

And yet, somehow, the reality of what happened a month ago is slowly becoming a reality of my today.  

And that is a mixed bag for me.  

Glad that Grief isn't hanging over me likes an overcasting cloud.   

But torn, because somehow as the deep grief somehow begins to lift, I feel somehow guilty that life is moving on.  

How can I move on right now?  

Somehow, (that seems to be the word of the day)I don't want life to move on. Somehow, I want it to go at a snail pace. I don't want to get lost in busyness.  Don't want to get lost in life so much that I forget my baby sister. 

Her smile, her laughter is so clear in my mind right now.  I can see her looking at me and my heart smiles.  I do not want to forget.  

I've replayed the day of seeing her body at the funeral home.  

Countless times in my mind.  

I hated feeling her cold hands.  And can still feel the coldness from when I kissed her forehead.  

Those cold hands. I just wanted to keep holding them.  Wanted them to be warmed up.  

I don't want to forget.  

And then I remember her laughter.  Her spice.  

Her spice.  

Goodness, my sister had some serious spice.   

And then I find that in my remembering, I've actually taken a handful of steps.  

I've kept walking.  And I am pretty sure that is exactly what she would want me to do.  

To keep walking.  

To embrace the day in front of me and to walk.  

And so, sweet baby sis, I'm walking. 

And I am confident that as I continue to walk.  As I continue to remember. And as I lean up against my Jesus... That the grief will change.  It will hopefully lessen.  And my memories will only deepen.  

And so, for my sister's sake, I get on a plane tomorrow.  

With an open palm.  And I keep walking.  

And skyping with her kiddos.  And laughing with my siblings.  

And pouring in as able.  

And remembering.  

And trusting.  

He's got this.  And He's got me and for that I am so thankful.  

"You can shed tears that she is gone, or you can smile because she has lived.  

You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back, or you can open your eyes and see all she's left.  

Your heart can be empty because you can't see her, or you can be fully of the love you shared.  

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday, or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.  

You can remember her only that she is gone, or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.  

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back.  

Or you can do what she'd want:  

Smile, 

open your eyes, 

love 

and go on."

- David Harkins

One of my most favorite places on earth is ironically a small slab of cement overlooking the gulf in Florida.  The slab of cement allows my feet to dangle over the water and my gaze is naturally brought to the horizon where water and sky meet.  And if my eyes allow me to wake before the sun, I am often blessed by watching the sun kiss the day.  There is a slight breeze that somehow blurs sounds and I can sit, think, and talk to my Jesus with little worry of anyone around me hearing.  Even now, as I sit at Panera with a Dr. Pepper to my left, I can hear the water lapping over the sand in a rhythmic motion.  Some of those waves grace the millions of pieces of sands while others bang into the cement wall.  A variety of memories flood me even now.  I have sat there many times.

I've been there with my nephews and niece... that time defined by playing in the sand.  

I've sat there overwhelmed by the sweetness of my Jesus embracing the life He has given me.  

I sat there after I heard a little baby boy I cared for was very sick with malaria.  

And shortly after coming down to remember the life of my gramps.  

It's been a place of peace.  A place of remembering.  And a place of embracing.  

Embracing.  

That word feels like a theme already for 2016.  I referred to it exactly a month ago as I babbled on about a rat.  And by the way, I think I got a lot of "missionary" power points that I didn't deserve. The rat was NEVER in my bed at the same time as I was... at least that I knew about. 

But that is not what this blog post is about.  I think in the psychological world, I'm avoiding.  

These last several weeks of my life have been some of the absolute hardest.  And I don't know how you write about the hardest weeks when you are still walking through them.   

And just like the water rushing over sand and banging into the concrete walls, my heart will keep walking.  

On January 24, I woke up and prepared for the day before me.  I had just said goodbye to a dear friend the day before and had enjoyed a particularly lazy day after her departure.   

It was the beginning of a new week and my agenda was full.  

And then I saw a message on my phone.  A message from my mom.  

"Please call it is urgent"

I don't know why I wasn't nervous about her message, but I didn't think too much as I picked up the phone to call.  Had I done the calculations in my mind, i would have realized the time difference.  The reality that she was messaging me around 11:40 her time.  It was well past her bedtime.  My day had begun... my parents should have been deep in la la land.   

And so I called.  

And in those following seconds, my life changed. 

I can't say much.  I just heard bits of what my mom was saying.  

Sylvia.  Asthma.  Passed.  

All the other adjectives, pronouns, and verbs were a haze compared to the three words I heard.  

Impossible.  

Not Sylvia.  

Not Sylvia.  

The following moments were an absolute whirlwind.  I've heard of shock.  Even claimed to have experienced it after a car accident as a kid.  But honestly, the world started spinning around me. 

The following minutes were a blur.  I called a friend.  But can't even remember if I got through or if they called back.  I don't remember much about the conversation.  Except that my friend told me what to do.  She gave me clear instructions and then she prayed with me.  Her words are vague, but she prayed with authority.  And that prayer was a whisper of peace in a tornado of emotion.  

 Everything from there flowed.  My community in Uganda... my family... stepped into action.  Tangible action.  I was 3 hours away from them and yet, I knew their presence even as the wind and storms swirled around and inside me.  I was pacing in a hotel room and there were lots of people stepping into action.  Not only in Uganda.  But literally all over the world.  

Sylvia.  

My sweet, spicy baby sister.  My first memories of her were looking up at her as she lay in the baby chair up on the kitchen table.  She was quiet those first days.  She just looked around or slept.  Those days were short lived.  From her early days, Sylvia was a bubble of life.  A girl of curiosity.  And a girl who expressed herself.  I was eight years her senior and loved having a baby sister.  

I practiced braiding her hair.  Learning over time how to braid and bead.  

She loved the Little Mermaid.  

And Barney.  

Oh Barney.  

That super cheesy show.  

She loved Koala Yummies and exploring.  

She loved her big brother and she loved the moon.  

And she loved her "Mr. Bear"

We were both full of life and passionate and that similarity created a bond that was forged from a young age.  

We talked lots, laughed lots, and talked more.  

  

I would tell her she was a treasure.  She would look at me like I was ridiculous all the while laughing with a smile on her face.  I think she wanted to hear it.   

And we grew up.  Unknown to either one of us, we walked similar paths of pain.   

Those journeys, though different, were similar enough that we bonded further as young adults.  

She would call to vent and process.  

I know she thought I was special and yet we connected.  We were so different and yet so similar.  

And then there was a bump in our relationship.   There was a deep bump or maybe better said there was a big bump.  

We didn't talk for a long time.  A long time.  

  

Would I have done things different?  For sure.  Would she have done things different.  For Sure.   

By God's grace and His grace alone, Sylvia and I reconnected in early 2015.  

It was awkward at best, but within a few minutes, we were talking.  And really talking.  We both had things to rectify and we both had our hearts to share.  We shared rawly . We shared honestly.  We shared openly.  And in the end I think we both would both got into our cars with smiles in our hearts.  

Rebuilding would take time.  But we had both taken the shovel to the mess and together we had dug through some of the muck.  

As we walked to our respective cars, Sylvia looked me over head to toe and appreciated my outfit.  

And by appreciate my outfit, she clearly communicated that she thought my outfit was well, not fancy enough for meeting up with her.   I laughed.   We were alike in a lot of ways.  She was clearly a lot more stylish.  I am not as much.

I so wish I had taken a picture that day.  I remember intentionally not.  I wanted that day to be about us reconnecting.  And I didn't want to get all picture happy.  That was fine then.  But to be honest, I wished we had taken a picture together.  Her all dolled up and me, well... wearing what I thought was cute.  

I sit here thankful for the last year.  Going to her house and connecting with her family.   The times Sylvia and I reconnected with messages and likes on face books.  The times where we talked on the phone and did what we always seemed to do... go deep.  

We laughed a lot too.  There was the humorous call right after Justice was born.  He was hours old and so was his placenta.  The one that Sylvia was convinced she was going to eat.  We laughed and laughed over the eating of that placenta.  She was braver than me.  

The talk of skyping and the hopes of continued relationship.  The excitement of coming back to the States and spending more time with her family.  Of knowing her kids more.  

Of phone calls.  Of laughter.  Of deep chats.  Of the things we used to do and were had just resumed doing.   

Oh Sylvia.  I love you.  It's been nearly 3 weeks since that dreadful day and I still cannot fully grasp that I can't pick up the phone and call you... or message you...or hear your laughter.  

I love you sis.  I will always love you.  Always.  Always.  I always have.  And I always will.  

I don't want hit publish on this blog post.  

It somehow is another step in acknowledging that this bad dream is real.  

A few months ago, I put out a request on Facebook for some music.  And Sylvia gave me a few recommendations.  And so I post the lyrics of one of the songs.  Truths that I am holding on to extra close.  

And to you all who stood by me.  Who have prayed for me.  Encouraged me.  Given me hugs.  Supported me.  For all of you who have supported my family.  Sylvia's family.  There are no words.  No words to express my gratitude.  

No words except Thank You.  

Not For A Moment (After All)

By Meredith Andrews

You were reaching through the storm

Walking on the water

Even when I could not see

In the middle of it all

When I thought You were a thousand miles away

Not for a moment did You forsake me

Not for a moment did You forsake me

After all You are constant

After all You are only good

After all You are sovereign

Not for a moment will You forsake me

You were singing in the dark

Whispering Your promise

Even when I could not hear

I was held in Your arms

Carried for a thousand miles to show

Not for a moment did You forsake me

After all You are constant

After all You are only good

After all You are sovereign

Not for a moment will You forsake me

Not for a moment will You forsake me

And every step every breath you are there

Every tear every cry every prayer

In my hurt at my worst

When my world falls down

Not for a moment will You forsake me

Even in the dark

Even when it's hard

You will never leave me

After all

After all You are constant

After all You are only good

After all You are sovereign

Not for a moment will You forsake me

Not for a moment will You forsake me

Not for a moment will You forsake me

A rat came to say hello.....

It's 4 minutes before 10 PM and the fan is blowing a cool steady flow of air on me.  And it is delightful.  I know.  I know.  I should NOT be talking about such things.  For so many whose eyes fall upon this page....the talk of warm weather is an unfair tease.  A taunting in the middle of crazy cold.  Well, the fan is a nice welcome after a hot day.  And that is that.

Now on to other things.

Like telling you that I cannot believe that January is nearly half way over.

Or that a good friend is coming to visit on Sunday and I'm super excited.

Or that the house that I am living in is under serious work and I am watching this house slowly become home.

That I spent the night in hospital with sweet little girl who was fighting very high fevers.... only to hear today that the same bed I slept in at the hospital was visited by a rat last night.  And when I say visited.... I am saying that the rat was in the bed.  In the bed.  In the bed.

I can't help but think if that rat came to visit me... and I just missed it.

Can't think of such things.

Just keep writing.

A rat in the bed that I slept in a few nights ago.

Out of Mind... but is it really?

SO thankful the sweet girl is doing better.

A new year is upon us.

A year to walk.  To laugh.  To be. To do things.  To rest.

And so, I embrace 2016.

Embrace what He has.

For now, it is freaking out over the thought of a rat in my bed.

But at the same time, thankful for the simple mosquito net encompassing my bed.

Today, I was placing cool rags over the body of a boy fighting fevers that were too high.

His fevers were from the very thing that my mosquito net protects me from.

Something so small has the potential to do such serious damage.

And so as I embrace 2016... I want to stay on top of the small things.

To speak when I am prompted to speak.

To laugh at the little things.

To look in the eye of the child in front of me... and to love them well.  Not sorta well.  But... WELL.

There was a rat IN the bed.

Today.
What did not happen today?

Well, I don't think I got everything on my list checked off.
I was going to plant some flowers.... but didn't return home in time to do so.
I didn't pack as much as I had wanted to.  I'm shifting to my new home in about a week... and there is a lot of packing and organizing to do.

BUT, I did do other things.

I picked up my good friend and we headed back to New Hope to cook.

We were going to spend the morning cooking for our Clinic  Christmas lunch.

That happened... but before we gathered the pans and things we needed, we were told there was a dead snake down at the farm.  A Big one.

And so we did what we
thought was best.  We hopped in the car and drove down to the farm.  Best to be in a car with a snake nearby than to be on foot near the snake.

The only problem was... that the snake was about a five minute walk into the bush.

And so we walked....

And quickly learned that the snake wasn't dead... it was still very much alive.

And there wasn't just one snake... there was TWO!

And so, Bridget, her niece, and I were the cheerleaders.

The men were all engaged in the battle with the snakes that were tunneled under the ground.

From what I have heard, these snakes aren't full of poisonous venom, but rather constrict their victims.  And victims can be a deer, crocodile, and even a human.

Bridget and I left the men hunting when they were still poking their stick in the hole and digging.  We had cooking to do.  And so off we went.  

We had a blast as we cooked the big clinic meal.  There were matooke to peel (green bananas), charcoal to light, and a chicken to kill.  I took no part in the killing of the chicken.... but I did need to help prepare it.  Defeathering a freshly killed chicken can leave one questioning whether they will ever want to eat meat again.  I kept saying sorry to the chicken... looking to where it's head was to reassure it... only to be startled by the absence of the head.  The head was somewhere in the bush.

And so... as we prepared our chicken and matooke, the men were finishing their snake hunt.
Hidden in the ground, were two snakes.  Both over 10 feet long.  And now they were both dead.

 Here, you kill snakes.  I know it sounds cruel.  But, it's necessary.  Snakes are deadly.
They aren't the cute little gardner snakes of the midwest (are those even cute?).

And after a great day full of laughter, a few screams, and some sweet times with dear friends, I picked up sweet little Subbe and just held him.  All 2.5 lbs of his sweet self.

And so dear friends.  That was today.  Some dying.  But there was also a WHOLE lot of living.  

Laughing.  Being.  Laughing some more.  And embracing today.  

Tidbits in a week.

It's Friday evening... I've just put some  brownies in the oven and am chilling as they bake.  I think that most of the pressing things from the week have been taken care of and so I'm exhaling.... and resting... and taking a moment to write you all.  A little while ago, as I was preparing the brownie batter, a bird made himself into the house and was frantically trying to get through the screened windows.  No luck.  Which I presume is a good thing.  Tells me the screens are sturdy.  Armed with a pillow, I opened the door and directed the bird outside.   And out it flew.  Yes!  I wasn't up for being pecked by a frustrated bird.  

It's been a full week.  And I thought I would share with you a bit about it.  On Sunday, I celebrated another year of life.  And celebration was what happened.  It started with a breakfast with friends and ended with a FaceTime chat with family.  Everything in between was rich and full.  There were words of sweetness given to me by countless friends and family.  Food for the soul.  Gifts that sank deep.   There were opportunities to cuddle kiddos, sit and chat with friends, and embrace the rest of a Sunday.  During church, a kid needed to go to the hospital.  My flip-flop broke.  Grabbing a pair of slippers from the car... I took that child to the hospital in my fuzzy slippers.  It made me smile.  A little extra fun spice to the day. 

  

Monday followed.  There were staff evaluations to complete, requisition and accountability forms to work on, and a variety of odds and ends.  A usual day off, I decided to rotate my day off.  There were too many pressing things.  Besides the other mentioned things do, there was tea to drink, emails to write, and Christmas cards to work on.  One of our missionaries flew out yesterday and I wanted to get as many of my Christmas cards on a jet plane with her.  And so, I did a lot of writing.  It was stretching for my right hand, but so good for my heart. I wish I could blur the picture a bit.... so that it will be a surprise for you all when they come to your mailboxes.  So thankful for you all!

Tuesday.  I was expecting to have a normal day at the clinic.  But, on Monday, I received word that little Opeson Luke was ready to go home.  This is the little guy who had deformed legs.  He has casts on both legs all the way up to his upper thighs.  He is a pretty active little guy and well, I have a feeling that the next 6 plus weeks will be an adventure for him.  A time for patience to be grown in a little guy who probably doesn't fully realize he isn't.   Momma seemed very ready to go home.  She did a great job loving on her little man.  They will be back down to the hospital in about three weeks time.  

Now, there NEVER seems to be a dull moment in my life.  And my return home on Wednesday proved that.  I had initially thought about driving to and from the hospital alone, but had decided to have Mr. Ssetuba drive me. Mr. Ssetuba has driven my friends and I on and off since I arrived into Uganda.  He's like a dad.  Patient. Knowledgeable.  Attentive.  As we were approaching one of the villages, we could palpate the tension.  And then in the corner of my eye, I saw smoke going up in the sky.  A gun had been shot upward. A few seconds later, a police man running away from the center.  And before we realized it, the police stopped our vehicle.  A man jumped in the front and a cop in the backseat near me.  There was a mob forming and the mob was after the man who had jumped into the passenger seat.  We were off to the police station.  All safe and NO worries.  K, maybe some slight worry.  But SAFE nonetheless.  

Wednesday. Another day of odds and ends.   It was buzzing from here and there much of the morning.  But, in the afternoon... it was time for some rest.  I had switched my day off to Wednesday. I spent much of the afternoon chilling AND writing Christmas Cards.  

Thursday.  

A smile on my face.  It was a day to be in the clinic.  The priority the whole day was to take care oft those who walked through the door needing help.  In a week of such variety, it was nice to pull stethoscope to ear and to listen not only to the hearts and lungs of many... but to also listen and be with those who came for care.  Life Giving for sure.   As the doors to the clinic closed for the day, my friend Anna got in the car with me.  Off to my house for a time to connect.  To share.  To laugh.  And to be.  She drank a coke . I ate some eggs and toast.  A very late lunch.  Or a very early dinner.  It is all in perspective.  Either way.  Good times with a Good friend.  

Friday.  That's today.  I'm living in it right now.  Most people who read this are somewhere in their Friday.  A few are into Saturday (UAE, Thailand, Taiwan... to name a few... or for accuracy... to name several), but for MOST Friday remains strong.  Today was strong.  It was full.  It was good.  And I have a feeling it will be strong for a few more hours.  Even as I type this, there are four young ladies who have come over for a sleepover.  We made an agreement a little while ago that its' a no pranks kind of night.  They agreed.  I hope I agree.  ( :  Chandiru came to visit today.  A young lady changed by a huge surgery.  She can now open and closer her mouth.  She can eat with a spoon.  And her breathing is much more comfortable at night.  Amen.  Amen.  Amen.  There is one side that is struggling to open as much as it did following surgery.  She will go back for an early review on Monday.  But, for today, we celebrate what God has done.  And we embrace her smile.  For her, this Friday is a day of joy and hope and peace as she rests in knowing what her God did.  

Chandiru, you are loved.

And today as we celebrated Chandiru, my co-worker and I also celebrated watching God do amazing things.  Sweet little Colton was diagnosed with retinoblastoma last week.  Today, when Bridget talked with the doctor on the phone, we found out that this momma can get care for her child for pretty much free.  All his medical care is covered.  The only expense is transportation to/from the hospital and costs for incidentals at the hospital (food, hot water, etc).  A huge burden off of a mother who loves her little boy.  Today is Friday, but may we keep lifting him up to Jesus.  

Tomorrow is Saturday.  I have no idea what will happen tomorrow.  But, as of right now, I am slated to be in the clinic in the morning.  Then in the afternoon, I am slated to go and have lunch with a friend in the nearby village.  And then.... tomorrow afternoon.  I'm hoping to sit down on the brown couch and write some emails, Facebook messages, and be.  

Much love to you ALL.  Just thought I would take you through my week.  A glimpse into life here.  

By His grace, 

Kimberly/Kimmy/Kim

And sweet Chandiru just went into the theatre!
Thank you for praying with and for her.
I'll keep you posted as I know.  Surgery is slated to last about 6 hours!

By His Grace,

Kimberly

Testing.

Testing 1 2 3.

Hello, this is Kimberly signing in.

Calling out quietly from a computer thousands of miles away from the many whose eyes will find this screen.

Technology and I have a strong love-hate relationship.... but one thing I absolutely appreciate about it.... is that it has the potential of keeping people connected.

And for that, I am thankful.

I cannot believe how quickly the time has gone.  I have seen the dust collecting on this blog site and yet, have failed to do much more than push the dust aside.

Right now, I'm bringing the big guns out.  No wimpy dust rag... I'm bringing out the Pledge.

Well, the pledge equivalent in the writing world.

I'm Cracking my knuckles (k, not really) and bringing my fingers to the keyboard.

No slow music tonight.... It's all rap in the typing world.

There is LOTS to catch you all up.

Thank you for your grace in my quietness.

It's a delightful evening.  The temperature is still a pleasant 21 degrees Celsius (just shy of 70 F) and there is a near constant hum of insects.  There is a dash of a breeze.  Just enough to let you know the temperatures are descending.... but not enough yet to warrant a sweater.

Maybe a cuppa of tea will be nice.... but for now,  I'm staying focused.

I'm finally exhaling from a day that puts all into perspective.

And inhaling as I prepare to go forward.

And there is a whole lot of neatness going forward.

And while I could share a million different things.

Today, I want to introduce you to Chandiru.

Just a few hours ago, Chandiru finished her P7 exams.  P7 exams are a BIG deal.  

They are tests that give direction academically going forward.  

They are not tests that you just sorta study for.  

These are tests that you spend a lot of time preparing for.  

And in the preparation, you trust.... you pray... you even sometimes worry.... that

And today, she finished them.   

With barely a minute to spare.  

As soon as she was finished with these tests, she began her journey South.  

A journey towards Entebbe to a small hospital called CorSu.  

And there, tucked somewhere in that hospital.... is a surgeon who will help reconstruct Chandiru's jaw.  A surgery that will have not only a huge impact on Chandiru physically.... but undoubtably will have a massive impact on her heart.  

 And yes, I did just say that a surgeon is tucked somewhere in that hospital.  

Mmm.... Not so much.  

He is a surgeon who has come from far away.  And in His willingness/ability to come.... God is using him to do something huge for a young lady who is bursting to emerge.  Bursting to emerge from underneath the weight of a physical deformity.  

Will you stand with her?  Will you pray for her and with her?  

I just know that your prayers will make a difference.  

I know because I've seen God respond to your prayers.  

He's got His Chandiru.... and He's holding her close.  

Thank you.  

And so these cracked knuckles are winding down.  I guess there wasn't too much RAP writing going on.... but at least my fingers have loosened up a bit.  

I have more to say.... and say I will.  

I'll keep you all posted on this young lady.  She will meet with the surgeon tomorrow and all the final details will be ironed out.  

Surgery will most likely be this week. 

Kimberly.... signing out.