Two weeks home and Uganda is still on my mind, on my heart and not just my rearview mirror.
This morning I woke up, well first at 1:30am because the two boys living next door, who were so absolutely darling little misters as toddlers, have become bigger in stature, older on the calender, but still apparently in the center of the "coolest" of all social clubs...a regular target for the TP crowd.
Oh my word, the memories of our own 3 getting the joy of cleaning up the yard, week after week, roll after soggy, dew saturated roll of the single ply "snow". I remember the Captain retelling a story of a nearly-teenage young man he was following at the grocery checkout years ago.
Checker (wry smile) : "That's a lot of toiler paper you've got there!"
Man-Child: "Yes, my dad has gonorrhea". (possibly revealing some sort of recent school curriculum still fresh on his mind)
Checker (stifled chuckle): "Do you mean diarrhea?"
Man-Child: "um, oh ya"
I am guessing no matter what Dad's condition was, he probably did without that night in favor of one of the ultimate pre-teen compliments...
having landscaping adorned in bathroom tissue!
You can tell the age of the recipient, by the hour the honor is bestowed...next door has progressed from 10pm to 1:30am, and God bless the mama who has stayed up late enough to drive this gang. Seriously she will be forever remembered as the "coolest" mom in the bunch...except I am thinking that in 2010, she might be called "da bomb" and if there is really something more current than that, I'm just sorry.
Regardless, my own memories of the delight I was able to grant to my own and their friends will always be a sweet spot of parenting in days gone by. A few of my peers looked down their proper noses, I know, and my credibility was lost when I got behind the wheel of a mini van at midnight, or helped set up the hose so we could catch a retaliator... but for the record, so far my own 3 are fine, having risen above the weak parenting they were challenged with.
And, just in case my dear neighbors ever stumble across this posting, my 1:30am walk down the hall last night, to investigate my own "Mighty Dog on alert" was accompanied by a smile that reached back 15 years. Enjoy... say yes and know the memories are worth it to both generations of you...and we have plenty of extra room in our trash cans for the overflow!
Not at all where this post was going...hold on, I'm making a huge right turn.
Witch Doctors and the village of Kakira. I woke up this morning, with that thought burning in my everything. What on earth can be done?
What do I want to do?..For lack of a better explanation, "make a deal with darkness", except what I know is that there is no "deal making" with a liar.
But if I could go back tomorrow (and I am compelled) I would take some fat American dollars and buy back every banded baby in the village, the innocent infants and toddlers, marked for sacrifice, and redeem them for their families in Jesus name. Then I would put enough money in the hands of the family that they would never, never, never have to consider such an answer to desperate poverty or I'd want to buy them cows or seed or medicine or whatever it is that would guarantee they never face such an option. Then I would shove another handful of shillings at the Witch Doctors, themselves, in exchange for relocating, pack them myself and hire some Ugandan mafia equivalent to "help them get settled somewhere else". Oh you think I'm kidding.
I could only be less than obsessed, if each day I am gone from there, didn't represent a day closer to "the day" for a tiny child. The only comfort, and I use that term with absolute repulsion, is that I know the Savior himself will take his own, given in such a manner, with such power and swiftness, and then..."No more suffering"...this baby "is going to see the King", and there is plenty of room for every prince and princess in His presence.
But...still, that is no measurable amount of comfort, nothing to rest in, knowing it continues. And I also know that there is nothing "on Earth" that can stop it. It is a spiritual battle, manifested in humanness. Since Satan can't get to God himself, he will continue to pursue and seduce for his own possession, God's children and not just the young ones. Makes total sense don't you think that if you want to really get to me, hurt my children.
It is gonna get edgy now...buckle up.
Is it possible God would ever allow a small American woman to go back to Kakira and be able to make a stand with THE Redeemer against the Devil himself? Make an "appointment" with Kakira's doctor of death for an impressive stand by THE ruler of all Heaven and Earth?
Am I equipped to stand before such darkness?
"Greater is He who is in me than he who is in the world" 1 John 4:4
If Aaron, a 5 year old, can speak the word that causes our enemy to fear and flee, "Jesus", couldn't others come along side in a bold, rebuking stand?
I admit, I went with open ears, compassion, love and a message and most of what I know even of the Christians in Kakira was from listening, not asking. Even with the curiousity of a news journalist, I felt lead toward sensitivity this trip, so I don't really know how it is being dealt with.
More time, more opportunity for one on one, more understanding might wipe the naivete right out of my mind and I'd know that a mighty stand and prayer warriors fight this battle more moments than I think about it. I pray it is so, but would like them to report in as each child is taken back, thank you so much.
Its just the black bands...interesting don't you think that a dark skinned child is marked with a black band? A subtle marking. Just a little black band, around the middle, claiming territory and victory, nothing flashy, just a subtle reminder to anyone close...this one is mine. I shudder at the power in the claim, not ultimate, but certainly some dominion in this age.
Our Pastor on Sunday drew such a picture of our world with that image. Oh we cannot see the band, but people are marked just the same. If only we could see it that way and rush to them, like I am drawn back to Kakira, to save and rescue and redeem, in Jesus name, why we don't bolt to tell the lost about the Savior, the Rescuer, the Redeemer. Like I cried over the babies, Pastor Bob cried for the rest. Christ grieves over them all.
God help us. Help us to know when and how to reach out and then give us the perspective and courage to make a stand for life from the clutches of death. The deal has been made. Christ's life for ours. No fat American anything would redeem like He already has. Its done, its just that free will lives on, desperation lives on.
And in Jesus's name and for his sake I have seen and cannot forget about the black bands...
A Tour of My Parents’ House
11 hours ago