I am selfish

Andrew and I

I was sitting on the bathroom floor. It was before 6 am. My throat was on fire, as I had just lost all of my dinner. I had food poisoning. Suddenly in this moment, the call of God on my life, my love for missions, my sweet braided hair, the kids I would be serving, the amount of likes I got on my Instagram photos or even the reason I was in Uganda did not matter. In that moment, I wanted to go home.

            I wanted my bed, my mom, my own bedroom, my own car, my clean house with perfect ventilation and honestly, I wanted Chick-fil-a. I began feeling very sorry for myself and not caring at all that I had a job to do and God had provided this opportunity. I was miserable and I wanted everyone to know I was miserable. I immediately began doing an inventory of the food I had eaten in the last 24 hours that could be the cause of this "horrible ordeal" I was now suffering. Then it hit me, the village.

            When I came to Uganda last summer, I had the wonderful privilege of meeting an incredible Ugandan family that had opened their lives, their hearts and their home to me. I loved them and even though we didn’t speak the same language, I knew that they loved me. With four of their own kids and a slew of nieces and nephews that stay with them, there is always some fun to be had. Every time I went to see them, they insisted on feeding me, most of the time before they even fed their own kids or ate themselves. I usually ate without hesitation and shared with the kids. This family was not neglectful to their children, they just always wanted to give me their best. I had spent the day in the village, and I had eaten everything they placed in front of me. We had laughed, planted beans, they opened their Christmas presents from the States and we cried when we said goodbye. I loved it.

            However, as I was sitting there on the tile floor, my face in the toilet, I seemed to forget all about that. I told myself that I wouldn’t eat their food anymore, that I would just say no. Maybe, I shouldn’t even go see them for awhile. I was sick after all and really, this was a sacrifice I was making being here. I just wanted to go home to everything that was comfortable.

            Later that day, when I could at least leave the bathroom long enough to lay on my bed, I began to consider how quickly my attitude had changed. There is a certain “glamour” if you will about going to Africa. The idea that the coolest missionaries are the ones posting photos of children outside of huts. To be honest, my followers on Instagram have more than doubled when I started posting from Uganda and people who I barely knew were commenting on how I was doing such a great job. I truly do love missions and I love traveling and I truly love Uganda. But I was surprised at myself that the minute it got difficult, I wanted to call it quits and run home.

            To some degree, I suppose that what I was feeling was natural. Food poisoning is no fun and I don’t recommend recklessly exposing yourself to sicknesses or parasites (I sleep with a mosquito net and only drink filtered water). But I also know that God did not call me to give up the minute it became not so fun to be there anymore. Living a life of missions is a sacrifice and I know some incredible, Godly people who have given up everything to follow God around the world.
But for me, I have gotten WAY more from Uganda than I have ever given it. I don’t mind the dust or the heat or the bugs. I love learning a new language, trying new foods and having a hair style that has very little maintenance. So,  really it is not surprising that as soon as it became difficult, I wanted to quit. Because no one was in the bathroom cheering me on for my incredible servant heart. And as I lay there all day, unable to even keep water down, no one was recognizing me for my "sacrifice "and that is what made it so hard. My throwing up is one photo that would not be getting likes.

            When I was praying and spending time with God that day, I began to think of what sacrifice truly is. God knows what sacrifice is and Jesus knows what sacrifice is. I was reflecting on the sacrifice that Jesus made for me when He chose to undergo torture and pain and humiliation and separation from God because of me. I thought about Him in the garden, praying so hard he sweating blood, meanwhile his disciples and closest friends are sleeping. No one was liking Jesus’ instagram posts at that moment. What if Jesus had given up that night? Or the next day? Or at any moment in His life and my life when He stops receiving the praise He deserves, when things got bad. At any moment, Jesus could have chosen to be done. He could have chosen to call it quits. He had the power to do so. But He didn’t. He stayed, He endured and He still does today.

            The truth is, I am selfish. We all are. But we have the choice everyday to indulge in that selfish nature that says being happy and comfortable and safe should be our goal (and a culture that reinforces the idea) or to decide to love and serve and work without praise, without recognition and even in the worse of circumstances. Food poisoning is not life threatening and hardly deserving of all the drama I gave it. Jesus has endured so much worse. So now, I’m choosing to not indulge, I’m choosing to endure.

 To love unconditionally, even if that means I have ring worm that still won’t go away after 5 months, or I sometimes get covered in pee while holding babies at an orphanage or I go without a real shower or if I spend all day in the bathroom because I ate some potentially bad potatoes that were given to me out of love and honor. Because some hardships are meant to be endured. Because I need to remember how good God is and I need to be reminded that on my own, I’m really just selfish. And I need to remember how faithful Jesus is and I can’t afford to stop being grateful for His sacrifice.

One of my favorite nights with my favorite family

I'm Done with Normal Christmas

I was sitting on my bed with my Bible open when the tears began to fall. The pages of my journal began to ripple in little circles under the moisture, I didn’t care. I had just been reading about God’s faithfulness to Israel, how God always takes care of His children and always provides.

Christmas Morning with my friend, Allen

            It had been almost 100 days since I had returned home from Uganda and I was desperate to get back but working at a church, interning for the school district and college full time didn’t leave much room for working another job. I had quit about two weeks before. And as I sat there praying and crying, I put it all in God’s hands and I knew He would take care of it. He knew my heart and turns out He loves Uganda more than I do. I was not prepared for what happened next.

            I had just pulled into my driveway after a full day of class when I got the email. It was an offer, to spend Christmas in Uganda, with a dear friend, for free. When I saw the message I wasn’t sure if I should scream or cry, or dance or jump, eventually I did all of it. I just couldn’t believe what was happening. And even now I am so grateful to everyone who made it possible. After getting consent from my parents, my ticket was bought and in 30 days I would be landing on African soil again. My heart was estatic. I honestly buzzed through the last few weeks of the semester, all I was thinking about was Uganda.

            I arrived in Uganda about a week before Christmas and it was just as beautiful as I remembered. I spent time with one of my dear friends, loving on children, trying to learn Luganda and talking about the States. It was bliss.

            Then Christmas Eve hit. Nothing that day had gone according to plan. Although my friend had made some cookies, our idea of baking, making paper snowflakes and other decorations and watching Christmas movies had turned into a day of humidity, just as much heat as the day before, missing home, errands and making food for some of our favorite street boys. This was the first Christmas away from home for both of us and we wanted to make is special. Needless to say, it did not feel like Christmas. When my family got on Skype with me that night, I cried. I missed them. I missed the snow and I missed Christmas. As always, my family was supportive and encouraging. Praying for me, assuring me that Christmas cookies and a few presents awaited me when I got home as well as a nice dinner. It did help but I was not exactly grateful that night as I went to bed completely forgetting that Christmas actually isn’t about me.

The boys literally scrapped the crumbs
from the cake pan into their hands

            The next morning we got up early and packed some food, a few matchbox cars and candy into the car. We headed out before 8 am to meet some of Kampala’s 10,000 children that live on the street.

            These boys live on the street for any number of reasons, but regardless of the reasons, they don’t where they are going to sleep at night, where their next meal is coming from and if they will even be able to find safety. There is a wonderful feeding program for this particular slum of Kampala but because of the holidays, many of the volunteers had gone home or where celebrating with their families. It meant a week without any guarantee of food. My friend, Emma, and I decided to do something about that.

Love these guys

            

We met the boys outside the slum. We weren’t able to feed 10,000 or even the 70 that normally came to the feeding program but we could feed 12 that met Emma for breakfast regularly. They were so excited to see us and were waiting for us to arrive. I could have cried when I realized that they were wearing their best clothes, the ones they reserved for church. We immediately broke out the paper and markers and the boys began drawing pictures. These preteen and teen boys were so excited to simply have something to draw with. We laughed a lot, washed their hands, gave them hugs and attempted to tell them the Christmas story. After the meal, we packed up the extra food in paper bags that already contained some candy, a water bottle and a matchbox car. One for each boy. When we handed the simple bag to the first boy, his eyes got wide when he asked what it was. When we told him it was a present for him, a huge smile spread across his face. You would have thought we had given him the world. The boys immediately began playing with their cars, thanking us multiple times. It was such a joy to see them.

            After taking some photos, more hugs and praying for the boys, we returned to home to the tree full of unopened presents waiting for us and a whole chicken cooking in the crockpot. After spending Christmas morning with the boys, my attitude changed. I began to think about what Christmas was truly about and I thought, if Jesus were here celebrating His birthday, aren’t these the very people HE would be spending time with? Jesus spent his days with the lonely, broken and hurting. He spent His time on the streets, covered in dust, sharing unconditional love with everyone He met.

           

When I began to consider this I was suddenly very humbled and very grateful. God had chosen to give me a gift this Christmas. He chose to give me the blessing and the opportunity to spend the birth of His son with those who need His love the most. He trusted me enough to love these boys. He chose me to be His hands and feet this Christmas. He chose me to be His arm extended and miraculously provided a way for to do so.

            I have discovered that I don’t need snow on Christmas or presents or apple pie or to watch It’s a Wonderful Life for the 50^th time. I don’t need to be comfortable and I don’t need all of my desires to be satisfied. I need a reverent, humble appreciation for God’s incredible gift that He chose to give me when He sent His son.

            So I have made a new life resolution. I don’t want to have “normal” Christmas anymore. I love my family and I love spending Christmas with them and I think that is how God intended it to be. And don’t get me wrong, gifts are totally my love language so I am a big fan of those as well. But from now on I want to look outside of myself on Christmas.

The boys loved drawing pictures

Whether that means I am feeding street boys in Africa, working at a soup kitchen, sponsoring a homeless family for Christmas or whether I invite that lonely, elderly gentleman from church over for dinner because he’ll probably be alone or I just spend the holidays in peace with relatives that always seem to find that on thing that annoys me most, I want to celebrate Jesus’ birthday the way He would, doing and giving unto the least of these. 

There is no way that I'd rather spend Christmas

House of Praise

Beautiful smiles

A sea of smiling faces surrounded the car, outstretched arms, the car hadn't even stopped yet. Immediately hands, arms were seized by eager, happy children. Bright yellow and green uniforms contrasted the red dirt. It was a beautiful sight. As soon as the car doors opened we were bombarded with hugs and children fighting to hold our hands, wrists, arms. There were four or five buildings on the ground we now stood, some were finished and some were not. A simple school building, a grass field, women cooking on a charcoal stove. We stood on the grounds of a place affectionately known as House of Praise. 

There were many incredible and inspiring people I
had met while working in Uganda but the story I am  about to retell here by far impacted me the most. House of Praise was named after a young Ugandan woman, Praise. She was full of laughter, smiles, joy. The children all greeted her and called her mommy. I asked her when her story of taking care of children began and this is what she told me. 

The new house being built by International Voice of the Orphan

Praise lost her father at a young age and her mother was not able to care for her so she lived with her grandmother until she was 14 years old. At 14, Praise's grandmother died, living her alone, an orphan. Praise had given her heart to the Lord and was welcomed into the home of a family at her church. Before Praise turned 15 she met her first child, a 9-year-old boy named Stephen who was living on the streets of Kampala, Uganda. Like Praise, Stephen was alone. Praise took him home, cleaned him up, gave him her own clothes to wear. But despite her efforts Praise could find no one willing to care for the boy. Eventually Praise found a place for him to sleep and she herself worked to care for him, his food, his schooling, everything he needed. She fed him from her back window and eventually, Praise was caring for eight more street boys, all who found themselves alone and deserted. 

Such Joy!

The School House

When the family Praise was living with found out she was caring for these children, they kicked her out of the house. Praise and her children moved into a one bedroom house with her mother. Praise continued to work to provide and care for her children and continued to take more and more children in. She cared for them, protected them, loved them. Eventually Praise had twelve children and once again Praise found herself without a home. At 17 years old, she worked enough to find places for them to stay, moving from place to place, trusting and relaying on God to provide. 

Over time the children were adopted, two were adopted by families in the United States and ten were adopted by families in Uganda. And Praise, as she says it, was free, free to make her own choices, to live her own life, to ensure her own future. But God had a different plan for Praise. She had a dream. In her dream a man came to her with two children who were bloodied and beaten, alone and deserted. The man told Praise she needed to take the children. When Praise resisted, he told her that they had no where else to go. The next morning, Praise received a call from the police, when she arrived at the station, Praise saw the very children from her dream, they were bloodied and beaten and they needed Praise. Praise knew then that she had to submit to the plan God had for her and that's what she has been doing ever since.

Loved spending time with these precious kids!

Today Praise is 26 years old and is currently caring for 36 children. She was able to buy property, build a village school and a house. She gives thanks God daily for His grace, His provision, His faithfulness. International Voice of the Orphan is currently building Praise a new home for her children. When you talk to Praise about her story, all she does is thank God, acknowledge His goodness. When I told her she was inspiring, she told me the people who inspire her are the ones who move to Uganda from blessed countries such as America because they have given up so much to come there (talk about humbling). Joy bubbles from this incredible woman who tells stories of sharing her one pair of shoes with Stephen so they could go to school, each wearing one shoe and pretending their other foot was injured. 

One of the things that has stuck with me since meeting Praise and hearing her story was the incredible amount of faith she has, how she has trusted God, how she continues to. I am so grateful to  live in a blessed country but sometimes I think my blessings, my resources, my security get in the way of me really trusting the Lord. 

I think it is no accident that right after delivering His people from Egypt, the Lord brought them to the Red Sea (Exodus 14). There were in a impossible situation in which the ONLY answer was the Lord. They had no other options, He was their only lifeline, their only hope. I began to ask myself if I have ever really been in that situation in my life, where God was my only solution, my only hope. Believe, I am grateful knowing that there is food in the fridge and money in bank account. I am grateful for my house, washing machine, health insurance plan, my job. But I began to wonder if I really knew what it meant to trust God.

Praise, such an inspiring woman!

 See Praise was living a life of faith. God was her only solution, her only option, her only hope. And just like Praise chose to follow God's plan, so can we also. There is a passage in the gospels about the "Rich Young Man" and to me this title could be given to many believers in the United States (granted we may not all be Bill Gates rich but compared to the rest of the world, many of us are fortunate). This young man was devout follower, he practiced all the rituals, he followed all the commandments but when presented with Jesus and what is meant to truly be a follower of Christ, he was given a choice to continue as he was or to "go, sell everything you have and give it to the poor...then come follow me" (Mark 10:21). The man couldn't do it, he turned away with sadness.

We will all encounter this same moment that this young man had. We will come to place of making a choice of learning to trust God or to trust our own resources. I'm not saying we should all quit our jobs, sell everything and live on faith. Living on faith doesn't mean we live irresponsibly but I think that God wants us to come to a place where we are believing for things that are so BIG He is the only possible solution. Exodus 14:14 "The Lord will fight for you; you need only be still" (NIV). In the King James Version it says "ye shall hold your peace".  The thing is the Lord wants to fight for us, He wants to be our refuge, He wants to perform miracles on our behalf. Something that God has been showing me is that too often, I get in the way of Him doing that in my life. I call my mom, whip out my credit card and use my resources, blessings and wealth to keep me from seeing God do miracles in my life. 

The Lord performed an incredible miracle for the Israelites, one they never forgot. I think if that young man in the story had done what Jesus had told him, had sold everything, given it to the poor and followed God, he would have seen God do incredible miracles in his own life and the lives of others. Just like this man in the story and just like Praise, we are all going to encounter this moment. The moment we can choose to "only be still" let God fight for us, let God perform miracles, to give up our resources and learn to trust Him and see incredible things. The choice is ours. But this something God has been asking of me. He keeps saying to me, "Hope, are you going to stop doing this on your own now and let me take over? I want you to believe for big things this year because I have big things I wanna do". God wants me and you and all believers to do big things. It may not mean I sell everything, drop out of school and go on the mission field or I start taking in children or I stop using the blessings He has given me. But it might mean I believe that my entire city is going to get saved or I follow the guidance of the Holy Spirit and support a missionary even when the budget is tight or I step out and tell someone about Jesus and pray for the sick, knowing that without God I am powerless to change their situation. I'm realizing that sometimes to see God do bigs things in my life means, I've gotta let go, I've gotta go to place past where my resources can provide, I've gotta have faith for things only God can do, I've gotta hold my peace and let God fight for me. 

Few of the many children Praise cares for!

"Don't Eat Me"

"What?" I questioned, confused. "Don't eat me" repeated 7-year-old Emmanuel (Emma). Was he joking? I looked into his face, he was serious. Emma had a special place in my heart, he pulled my heart strings. He was sad, so sad, the saddest child I had ever seen. Rarely did a smile break across his face, never a laugh, hugs were forced. What horrible things must he have faced to become so hopeless? I prayed for him daily, he had started to grin lately, learning to trust again.  I stood there holding his teal blue blanket above his bunk bed, lights off, mosquitos buzzing. It was my normal goodnight ritual, tucking in the eight children that I now watched at night, pulling tight their nets (praise the Lord for those), whispering "Nkwagala nyo" (I love you so much) to each one and one peck on the forehead. I loved being the mama to these babies, singing them songs, wiping their tears when they had nightmares, morning snuggles times were my favorite.

Sweet boy Emma

As I stood there, I had no idea what this little child was talking about. This was not our first night. Eat him? What could he mean? I continued on with my goodnight ritual, including a peck on the cheek.

Everyone was tucked, goodnighted, and kissed. I gladly welcomed my 7:30 bedtime (pathetic, I know) and laid down on my foam mattress. But this was just the start of a long, tiring night, after two earthquakes and being attacked by a bird who decided to take up residence in the bathroom, 5-year-old Peace woke up screaming. Rushing to her side to comfort her, to reassure her, to love her, I met a girl whose eyes filled with horror at the sight of me. Now I was beyond confused, first of all, I didn't know birds attacked people and secondly, here was the same girl who had sat on my lap during story time now terrified of me. Emma began to speak to her in Luganda, he wouldn't translate, he wouldn't let me in on his secret. The more I listened, the more I understood, Peace was afraid of me. She was afraid to sleep with her Mzungu (white) auntie and her fear was being perpetuated by what Emma was saying. After a brief but firm discussion about being a big brother to the other children, Emma wept, his eyes were downcast, he was ashamed. Emma cried himself to sleep that night.

Love this boy

I would love to say that I was everything I should have been at that moment; patient, understanding, he was after all a 7-year-old boy that needed love. But I wasn't, I was irritated, I was angry. Here I was giving up my sleep, being eaten alive by mosquitos, waking this kid up in the middle of the night because he still wet the bed, sharing my blankets, my life, my love (haha, I had such a bad attitude). And now Emma was here making things up, telling the children I would hurt them, he knew it wasn't true, his behavior proved it. I went to bed angry (so anti-Biblical). By the next morning, Peace, Emma and the rest of the children were in my lap for story time, all was forgiven, the adventurous night before had been forgotten. And yet, I still could not understand why Emma insisted on telling me not to eat him. A few days later, the realization came; Emma had never been given kisses in his life. He perceived my comfort, my affection, my love as a threat, as a bad thing that I was hurting him, that I had bad intentions. When I went to kiss Emma, he thought I was going to eat him.

Emma enjoying a Mirinda Fruti Soda

When I was able to get over my offense and understand what Emma was telling me, two things hit me. The first was that everyone has a filter through which they perceive and a loveless filter leads to a hopeless, guarded, fearful perspective. My friend has a 10-month- old and he loves to give kisses. Big, slobbery, wide mouthed attacks right on your cheek and I love every single one of them. Why does he do this?  Because he receives hundreds of kisses from his sweet mama everyday, he is loved so he knows how to love back. Emma had been abandoned, he didn't even remember his mother. Emma did not know how to give kisses because he had never been given kisses, he didn't even recognize them when he saw them. Sometimes I meet people in my life and I am immediately turned off by their rough, angry nature. I blame it on them, our personalties just don't fit well, sometimes I just walk away offended. But just like Emma, maybe they have never received love, the unconditional kind, the forgiving kind, the gracious kind and can't recognize it when it comes much less replicate it for others. Maybe instead of giving up on them so quickly, I should ask God to help me love them, the kind of love that can break down their walls and opens their heart for God's healing to pour into their wounds. I began to wonder what happens to people when I, the representation of Jesus on the earth, don't represent God correctly. If I have a loveless perspective and therefore a loveless reality, I don't see God's love correctly so I can't give God's love correctly. Maybe because of my own pain, my issues with God, things I haven't let go of, or simply the lies that I believe, I portray a god that is so far from the merciful, loving Savior that has given everything to redeem my soul. Just like Emma, I portray through my words or actions things that aren't true. Emma told Peace things that weren't true and she looked at me differently, I began to ask myself, am I doing the same thing?

Soon after this evening, Emma discovered that I wasn't actually trying to eat him. I'm sure he felt relieved. It quickly became a game of ours. He would come up to me, holding back a grin and say "Auntie Hopu, don't eat me". Immediately Emma would find himself in my lap receiving an abundance of kisses, tickles and snuggles. Through a torrent of wiggles and laughs Emma would repeat "Don't eat me Auntie Hopu, I'm not a sweetie". (By saying "sweetie" he was referring to candy). I would of course continue giving him kisses on the cheek and respond "You are my sweetie". I loved this little boy so much and he had learned how to receive love.  When his perspective changed, his reality changed. What he had first perceived as a threat, he was now perceiving as love and affection and he couldn't get enough of it. When it was time for me to say goodbye, Emma had to be pryed off of my lap with tears (which broke my heart). This is the second revelation I received from God, something I knew but something He has been reminding me of lately. He isn't correcting me because He hates me and no, I'm not in this difficult situation because God wants bad things in my life, and yes, His plan really is better than mine and that's why He closed that door. He leads me on a different path because His is better. He really was with me through that rough patch and has proven His provision for me. God points out my sin, my weaknesses, my broken places because He loves me.

I know this sounds ridiculous to some and very familiar to others. Some might

Morning snuggles with my babies

ask, why would God correct me if He loves me, why would He point out that painful area I'm not letting go of, can't He see that that hurts me? Yes, of course He does and that's exactly why He does it. Just as it is inconceivable that any parent would not give their children kisses and other forms of physical affection, it is inconceivable that a loving God would leave me in my mess, my sin, my dysfunction and let me go my own way even though He has a better one. If anyone has ever gotten a severe burn they know the best way to prevent scaring is to scrub away the mutilated skin (talk about painful and the total opposite of what we want to do). Sure, it probably hurts at first and I might not understand it and I might not like it, just as Emma didn't understand kisses, but when I come on the other side, am I really going to regret God making me into better a person? 

As I said, to some people this is a familiar concept. I myself had heard it hundreds of times growing up, I could point to verses that support the idea, logically, I can explain it. But, I realized that in a lot of ways, I'm not really living that way. I wasn't living like I actually believed it. When I face a trial in my life, the last thing I want to do is praise God, when a friend lovingly points out a weakness in my life, the last thing I want to do is thank them, when God closes the door on a plan of mine the last thing I want to do is humbly submit to His will and when the Holy Spirit begins to pry into the hurt parts of my heart that I have hidden away, the last thing I want to do is open the door and invite Him in. But that is because my view of God is flawed, I have been lied too, just like Peace, and I can't see what He is doing is loving me.

Praying for this precious boy

This wasn't an easy pill for me to swallow, I wanted to make this reminder about other people, not apply it to my own life.  I took a long look at the lies I believed and the way I was representing God to others. This has required me to do some things I didn't want to do. These past few weeks I have let God in, I've given up parts of my heart, I've begun to praise Him when I don't want to, to trust Him when it I am afraid to do so, and I've humbly walked over to His side and said "Daddy, don't eat me" and the minute I do I find myself being pulled into the most loving embrace, filled with affection, overwhelming joy, acceptance, healing, safety, peace and a God who keeps reminding me "You are my sweetie". 


Ask God to reveal the lies you have been believing and consider these scriptures: 

"Blessed is the man you discipline, O Lord, the man you teach from your law; you grant him relief from days of trouble" Psalm 94:12-13a NIV

"For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned" John 3:17-18a NIV

"God disciplines us for our good, that we may share in his holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, is produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it" Hebrews 12:10-11 NIV

"God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him...There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out all fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love." 1 John 4:16, 18 NIV

Also, I highly recommend the book Lies Women Believe and the Truth that Sets Them Free  by Nancy Leigh DeMoss (even if you are a man ;) ) 

God's Gift

It only took a second. Just one look and she was mine. Soft curly hair, black eyes and full cheeks. Her name was Gift and as I held this tiny precious baby girl in my arms I knew that my heart had changed. I was working at a baby home in Uganda. This little one had been thrown down a pit latrine as a newborn (pit latrine’s are forty to fifty foot holes in the ground used as public bathrooms) and she had survived. She was a miracle, a wonder, a treasure. I had never loved a baby before but as she looked at me with searching eyes, all I wanted to do was assure her of my love, protect her from all hurt and change her future, no matter her past. She may have been cast off by others, they may have said she had no value but to me she was greatest thing in the world. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

Loving on this precious baby 

I began to long to have Gift with me at all times, just to enjoy her. Just to enjoy who she was. She didn’t do anything special, as a one month old she barely smiled but it didn’t matter if she did anything, I wanted her. I carried her around in a sling everywhere, when I did laundry, when I ate food, when I played with other kids. I just loved having her with me. Whenever I saw a pit latrine, I wept. It was unimaginable that anyone that she trusted could ever put her there.

Now, I’m not a baby person. They are cute and all but please, don’t ask me to hold them, feed them and heaven forbid change their diapers. Gift was different, somehow, her weakness made her more special to me. She needed me and it was a delight to take care of her (yes, even changing her poopy diapers). I knew I was being unfair to the other babies. When she cried, I came running. I couldn’t help it, she was mine, my favorite. I’d gladly stop whatever I was doing to come fulfill her needs. I was almost sad when she fell asleep and it was time to put her in her crib.

And then, the day came, the day for me to go home. I didn’t live in Uganda after all and even though I knew the day was coming it was worse than I could have imagined. It broke my heart. I cried every night. At the mention of her name, tears welled up in my eyes, I couldn’t stop them. I began to pray for my baby girl, I longed to have her again. I didn’t understand it. I had only had her a month. She had done nothing to earn my love. She didn’t even tell me she loved me back. How could I love so much, so quickly? I knew there was nothing I could do but pray and trust that she would be okay and maybe, maybe one day, she would come back to me.

 A few days after I left, I was in a church service. It was worship but, to be totally honest, I wasn’t praising God, I was thinking about Gift. I began to complain to God. How could He do that to me? How could I loose my baby? And then, in a gentle, soft voice, God spoke to my heart “Hope, how do you think I feel?” And then it hit me. I began to cry as I thought about God, the one who created me and you and all of humanity. He created us, loved us, made us, delighted in us. What unimaginable pain He must feel over His lost children? I had known this baby a month and I was heart broken. How much more must God ache when His babies reject Him, choose their own path, go a different way?

Gift's First Day at the Baby Home
 Right after being rescued from the pit latrine

And I’m not just talking about all the “lost” people out there in the world. I’m talking about me. I’m talking about those times that I sin. That I turn from God, when I reject Him and decide my way is better than His. In many ways, we are all like Gift. We are vulnerable, we are exposed, we don’t know who we are. And we begin to cry out in our abandonment and our pain, crying out to be saved from our circumstances. And then along comes our Father, our Savior, our God. He scoops us up out of our pit, out of the mess we are in. He cleans us off. He binds our wounds. He tells us we are lovely. He delights in spending time with us. We don’t have to do anything, we don’t have to perform, He just wants to be with us. He delights in fixing our needs, He knows our cry. He knows how to comfort us, He knows how to make us rest. We are His favorite, His delight. He just wants us. And then one day, we leave, we turn away, we take our own path. And there He is, heart broken. He cries for us, He longs for us and waits until the day we come back to Him.

Although what I had felt was only a small glimpse of God’s love, He had only revealed a sliver of His heart, I began to weep. I began to hate my sin and I began to love sinners. And there was God, ready to wrap me in His arms again. Despite the pain, despite the rejection. He didn’t see me as the child who broke His heart. He just saw me as His miracle, His wonder, His treasure, His Gift.

There are some of God’s children today who are still living in their old identity. They still believe the lies that others told them, that they aren’t worth it, that they have no value. There are some who still think they need to perform, they don’t understand that God just wants to hold them, to care for them, to protect them, to give them the best. And there are still some who are in the bottom of their pit. Without her cries, no one would have come to save Gift, they wouldn’t have known she was there. Some people are there in the pit, and God is waiting for them to cry out to Him so they too can become His Gifts.

Don't just take my word for it, dwell on these promises from the your Father God: 

“But now, this is what the Lord says- He who created you, o Jacob (insert your name here), He who created you, o Israel (your name ) ‘Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior’” Isaiah 43:1-3 NIV

“He brought me to a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me.” Psalm 18:19 NIV

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid” John 14:27 NIV

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33 NIV

“So he (the prodigal son) got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him” Luke 15:20 NIV 

"'Thought the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed' says the Lord, who has compassion on you" Isaiah 54:10 NIV