Today.  

Well, it's currently the 6th of May. It's a few minutes past seven and I'm laying on my bed typing.  The power is out and there is only a faint bit of light crawling in from the other room.  Solar is set up in my main room... but hasn't quite been set up in my bedroom. I'm thankful for that light.  Without it, I would be fuffing with candles and flashlights.  Fuffing.  It's a new word I learned this week.  I am always up for a new word... but the problem is I don't always remember new words as I should.  This week I texted my friend thinking I was using the proper British word for something... only to realize I had totally messed it up.  Instead of communicating something nicely.... I was actually communicating it a bit rawly.  So thankful for grace, good laughs, and more grace....and more laughs.    But, one thing I am pretty sure about is the word Fuffing  Not fluffing or faffing... but fuffing.  Shoot, maybe it should be faffing.  Now, I am not so sure.  

And I've probably lost a few... literally.  

It has been a week.  I come to the end of this week feeling stretched and stretched some more.  

I feel like I could write a novel and yet, I keep deleting the words.  

Today, my friend and I went into Kampala.  The plan was to do a whole lot of "fuffing"... aka chilling.  Being.  

It's what I needed to today.  Exhaling, Inhaling, and just being.  

We had a fun breakfast... picked up a stroller for a friend who just welcomed a baby into her home... and did a little shopping.  

As we were coming out of one store, we saw 3 helicopters zooming around in the sky.  One turned on it's side.  It was odd.  People were looking up.  There wasn't fear in the air, but there was an awareness that people were observing... and wondering.  

Then as the helicopters were seen flying, police sirens further broke the air.  

Weird.  A bit unnerving.  

But just as quick as that happened, we continued on with our day.  

We went into the grocery store and started picking up things we needed (and truth be told a few goodies I didn't need...)     And then, without much warning there were loud noises heard.  Sounds of planes much too close.  And heard again.  And heard again.  

They were fighter jets.  

It was a moment where you stop.  And you suddenly feel small.  And a bit unsafe.  

And then it was over.  

The President is being sworn in next week and the military wants to show their power to the opposition.  Well, if they didn't succeed with the opposition, I must say that they did a good job showing their power to the general public.  

Yep, I think I will be staying in the bush next week.  

The moody power and internet is a welcomed thing.  As are the sound of the bugs greeting the night.  And the sound of children playing.  

Yes, I'll keep faffing.  

I'll keep being in what He has for me. 

My heart is feeling a bit discouraged.  A bit raw.  Feeling like I'm being stretched.  

So wanting to know the Power of my Jesus as He stands against my opposition.

I want to lean into Him and I want to faff with Him.  I want to chill.  To be.  To rest.  

With My Jesus.  

Ahhhh even in the stretching times... I love that there is so much in life to smile about.  

Like the creativity of words.  And the beauty of the sun peeking up over the horizon.  

And in the bumps of a road that is more bumps than dirt.  

A day in Kampala

Last night I sat at the kitchen table and created my list.  

The list of ALL the things that I needed to do.  

Nothing on the list was unnecessary.  

So at 4:58 AM this morning, I woke up on my own.  A quick glance at my phone told me both the time and the fact that my phone battery was critically low.   Despite the 4%, I still pushed snooze when he alarm rang and attempted to drift off to sleep for a few minutes.  But with a 4% battery imprinted on my brain... I got up far before the snooze would have alarmed.  

I was out the door by about 5:29 AM.  

I picked up a young lady who needed to see the eye doctor and a young man who was slated to meet up with Ayeko and his dad.  

After a quick stop at the clinic, we were off.  

Ours destination was a bit over 50 km, but with traffic and potholes and crazy motorcycle drivers and people walking all over... the drive was expected to take about 3 hours.  And in the end, it took just a little less than that.  

We arrived at CorSu hospital a bit after 8.  We had made good time.  

Chandiru and her older sister Zam came out to greet us.  Chandiru is about a week post-surgery and she looks GOOD.  Lots of smiles.  And lots of pain.  It seems that pain has been more of an issue this time around.  

Chandiru's sister works in our baby house here at New Hope.  She is an amazing woman who loves and cares for children as if they were her own.  And last night, she not only took care of her baby sister recovering from significant surgery, but she also cared for a little boy who had been abandoned at the hospital.  All that is known about this little boy is that his name is Joseph.  He is believed to be about 3 years old.  It is evident that he has special needs.  

How heartbreaking.  

After talking to the social worker about Joseph and praying with Chandiru, we were off.  

My IY student hopped a boda boda for the international hospital to meet up with Ayeko and his dad when they arrived.  

The young lady who joined me remained.  

Before we knew it, we had dropped off meds about to expire at one place and she had seen the eye doctor.  Next, my car was dropped for new tires and the young lady and I hopped a boda boda and began the adventure of Drug Shopping.  A few things here... a few things there... and a LOT of things at there.  Before we knew it, we had bought and organized a LOT of drugs and supplies.  

We grabbed lunch, got the car, and headed to another car man.  The first was telling me something was wrong with my car.  I wasn't convinced.   And sure enough, my car was fine.  That quick double check cost me a bit of time, but saved me a good chunk of change.  

Yeah.  

And then we were off to the International Hospital.  

And there we met up with Ayeko and his dad.  

And before we knew it... we were with the doctor.  

And we got excellent news.  Things are moving along great.  And where there was concern there was poor to no muscle present in his bottom, we discovered there was.    And that, my friends, is HUGELY amazing news.  For a little boy born without an opening for his stool to pass.  Knowing there is muscle tone... is HUGE. 

Ayeko didn't so much appreciate seeing the doctor today.  It wasn't the most pleasant of visits.   

But that is ok.  Today's appointment is HUGELY amazing.  

And so with a few more errands we were on the road again.  

Bumpy, Puddly, and Exhausting... but ALL so worth it.  

A FULL day.... with lots of sweetness and adventure.  

Good Afternoon!  The sun finally peaked out from behind the clouds a bit ago and I am celebrating that.  Rainy season started a few weeks back and let me tell you.... the rains have not held back.  My water tank is bursting with water and the ground is having near constant arguments on whether or not it will swallow the rain that comes.   Puddles are everywhere.  And the green that defines so much of Uganda is just that much more green.  It's my day off and I have been busy doing a myriad of things.

I've been slashing (cutting the grass with one of these...)

I've run into town to pick up these....                                                             

  

I've spent some time writing.... (aka typing)

no sneak peeks to this writing..... ( : 

And I spent some time sipping on tea chatting with a friend.  

 And I've spent some time journaling with my Jesus... 

And doing dishes... and mopping the floor.... and somehow resting here and there....

And guess what I did yesterday?!?!?!?!  I totally drove into Kampala with a few of my friends and sat in a chair for just about 3 hours.... and came out with this......

I've never had my whole head braided...but so far I am LOVING it!!!!!   There are even extensions tucked into all those braids.  This is the kind of drama I love! Controlled Drama.

And so with a day off coming to an end...I prepare for the week ahead of me.

There is lots to do this coming week.

Remember this cutie?!?!?



Opeson Luke is going back to CorSu for a review.  I am hoping to see him on Thursday.   I might be catching a picture of a little boy RUNNING with two straight legs.  Now, that is EXCITING!











Ayeko should be going back for a review following his first surgery.

Here he is minutes before he was taken down to the theatre.

He was in surgery for about 2 1/2 hours....

The staff at the hospital were amazing.  His dad was with him in the theatre until he fell asleep. Then, just as Ayeko was waking up, they allowed his dad to go into  the recovery area.  

What a gift.  Ayeko is a timid little one and the presence of his dad is both calming and reassuring.  And what a gift for his dad.

Here he is a bit after surgery.

And Chandiru SHOULD be discharged from the hospital.  Prayerfully, this last surgery was successful and this young lady will be abel to open her mouth wider than she ever has been able to.  Something so simple and yet something So huge. Please Jesus.  

And so the week takes off.   

Patients to see.  

Kids to hug.  

Meetings to have.  

A review to write... along with a few letters.  

A journal to finish and God-willing a new one to start. 

Days to embrace and moments to remember. 

 Yep, this is the life I have been given.  And these are the moments I will embrace. 

Cycling, laughing, and trusting.

Last night I woke up in the wee hours of the night and stumbled to the bathroom.   And as I flipped on the light, I saw a bit of movement.  And before really much more than that could register in my half awake mind, I saw more movement.  The cutest, littlest mouse emerged from behind the door.  And then it looked up and it saw me.  And I got a full glimpse of it.  And though I was barely awake... all I could think of was it was actually cute.  And while, one might say that I should have grabbed a stick and taken care of it, I didn't.  I could nearly palpate it's fear.  And so, I let it run.  It ran right past me and into the main room.  I didn't even peek out to see where it ran too.  I just kept on with what I had gotten out of bed to do.   And before I knew it, I was back in bed and deep asleep.

Yep, I haven't written on my blog for well over a month and this is what I write about?!?!

Yes, it's my opening story.  It's a few minutes after ten and you guessed it, the bugs are greeting the night.  Truth be told, they have been greeting the night for nearly 3 1/2 hours.  I've been putzing around my house.  Working on dishes, organizing laundry, doing some odd and end work stuff, soaking my feet.... all that kind of stuff.

And as I moved from thing to thing, my eyes found a piece of paper.  A paper that had been given to me back in October.  It's a grief cycle paper.   I looked at it for a bit and some of those emotions really caught my eye.  

One could say I should have known.... but many of those words were emotions I have been feeling.

And feeling rather strongly.

I have felt the burn of anger.  And struggled to know why.

I've felt the pangs of loneliness even when sitting in a large room.

In fact, as I look over the paper, I see that so many of those emotions have been so real to me in these last days.

These days are... well, what they are.

I have made it a few days without the tears burning my eyes.

And then I have found myself fighting back the burn.

My sister.

No, this will be a journey for days and weeks to come.  I have been pulled back and forth in the process... but I am hopeful that as I walk.... that Hope will only blossom.

That peace will come in the breaking of the dawn.

And part of the sweetness of where God has me... is that there are opportunities ALL around me to pull my attention.  Yes, this can be a not good thing... but at the very same time, I think it can be a very good thing.

It can be an eye turner.  A heart changer.  And a reminder of the so much good out there.

And speaking of good.  Let me tell you about two peeps having HUGE surgeries this week.

Chandiru had pretty significant jaw surgery back in the fall.  She had complications from tetanus that she contracted as a small baby.  The surgery was only partially successful.  But for Chandiru, it was a LOT successful.  She was so excited that she could put a spoon in her mouth and that she could breathe easier at night.  The part that wasn't so successful will hopefully be addressed this week by a second surgery.  She has been admitted to the hospital and will either have surgery tomorrow or Wednesday.

Little Ayeko was identified back in September during a medical outreach.  An amazing ministry, Willing and Abel has sponsored his medical care.  God is using this ministry to change the lives of so many children... and little Ayeko is one of them.  This little guy looks really healthy and in many ways he is.... but he was born with a significant medical condition.  The passageway that allows stool to exit the body was not open.  A colostomy was placed and complications developed.  Part of his intestines are outside of his body.  Surgery number one happens on Thursday.  Before this little guy knows it, he will be a new little guy.  Free from the hassles that come when your insides are outside.  It is such an honor to walk with this family.  Little Ayeko has been teary and afraid in our previous interactions.  This past Thursday, he was beaming with joy and laughter. 

Will you stand with these two in prayer?  With their families?  

I know I have a good group of friends and family standing with me.  And something tells me you all won't mind standing with these two..  

Love to you all!  

Kimberly/Kimmy/Kim

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.