The Journey: Part 1

It's been a while since I've really committed to sitting down and blogging. I've had a few that have come and gone over the years, but as I sit here preparing to go back to Africa, I feel I owe it to my community of supporters to force myself into sitting down long enough to share the stories that are sure to come.

Those of you that have known me for a while know that Uganda is a place that has been calling my name for years. It was a place I fell in love with when I was 21 years old. A place that I have visited 3 times over the past 5 years. A place that breaks my heart and also makes it whole.

The first time I went there I was young and naive and I all I knew was that there were babies there that I loved. But who doesn't love babies? Who doesn't want to cuddle a sweet orphan? It's in our DNA. We can't help but love those pooping, crying, useless little people. Seriously, if they weren't so cute there's no way the human population would have survived this long. The point is, that trip was about me. That's all there is to it. I didn't understand the culture or what it means to "look after widows and orphans." I had no idea how to make a lasting impact. I only knew how to be present in that moment. And I don't want to diminish that ability to just be  present with people. That in itself is a valuable gift. But when it comes to traveling across the world, that's just not a sustainable way of caring for people.

That first summer in Uganda was, however, what planted a seed. It gave me a heart for the rest of the world. It began to teach me how to live in a culture that was not my own without seeking to change it.

First trip to Uganda, 2008