"Sacred": A Recap and a Dedication

'Twas the night before Christmas Eve, and I was on my way home from work…

Yep, this girl got a job. I'm a temporary sales associate working in the world of retail through the holidays, and I'm really, really thankful. 

As I was saying, one night I left the store after working the late shift. My truck has a classic CD player with six CD slots, so every month or so I typically burn a couple of new CDs. I call each one my "Faves of the Week Playlist, Volume Twelve," etc. It makes me feel like a DJ. Don't judge. :)

Anyway, this particular CD had Switchfoot's "Selling the News" song on it. There's a line in the bridge that says, "When nothing is sacred, there's nothing to lose. When nothing is sacred, all is consumed."

Sacred. What is sacred? I thought. What does that mean?

Again, this was the night before Christmas Eve, so I began a mental list of everything "sacred" that I could think of. Christmas. Jesus. Church? Sure! Sacred...

I looked it up in the dictionary. 

Sacred: adj. "Devoted exclusively to a single use or purpose or person; made or declared or believed to be holy; worthy of respect or dedication." 

And God whispered, Your heart is sacred to me.

****

2013 was a defining year for me. I've experienced more than I could ever put into words. I've been on a journey of exploring my faith: 

the Jesus I believe in and Who He actually is; 

the Word I cling to so tightly and how it stands when everything physical fails; 

the righteousness and justice of a God Whose heart breaks for both the unfathomable wrongs of the world and the private, personal worries in my heart. 

I've learned that my faith only grows after it's been challenged; and it's been challenged a lot this year. 

I've seen the smiles of rescued babies; I've seen the peaceful faces of the babies Jesus took home. 

I've made friends around the world; I've learned how to love unconditionally. 

The list goes on; not just things that I've done and learned, but the things that Jesus did, is continuing to do, and is continuing to teach me. My faith is still growing; I'm still learning how to guard my heart and love with everything I have at the same time; and daily I have to choose to trust God. 

He is faithful every time. 

Your heart is sacred to me, He says. He's been faithful with my heart through every circumstance, teaching this little heart to love more, to break more for others and less for me, to be more sensitive to His voice. 

****

Dear 2014, you have big shoes to fill… but Jesus holds you. He's planned every moment already, and knows what I'll do and what I'll learn. 

Dear Little Heart, I dare you to dream a bit bigger, to love stronger, to not be afraid of what pain will come. I dare you to reach out; I dare you to reach in. Be the light you were created to be. 

Dear Robin, you'll look back someday and read this again. I don't know now where you'll be when you read it, or what circumstances will prompt you to do so. But I hope when you do, you'll read it with new eyes, and learn from it with fresh wisdom. And I hope you never forget:

Your heart is sacred to me. 

Mystery Solved!

I've been known to have my hands change colours according to the temperature outside. The colder the weather, the bluer my hands. A couple of days ago, I noticed this change in my skin colour was a little more extreme than normal; but because it's happened before, I didn't think twice about it.

Yesterday I started to get concerned. My fingers were a deathly grey-blue colour, and even my parents were questioning my circulation, etc. 

I should note that I get queasy talking about medical stuff. Not so much seeing it or experiencing it, but talking about it makes me feel like passing out. Once on a field trip to the hospital, I almost fainted learning about blood types. Medical conversations: no can do.

So talking about my circulation put me in a panic. I ran quickly to the bathroom and held my fingers under hot water for a bit, and that seemed to help, so again I assumed it must be the weather.

Today, however, I took a look at the palms of my hands, and felt myself grow nauseous. Again, a sickly grey-blue colour was spread all over my fingers and palms, to the point that it looked like my hands could just fall off at any minute. My first thought was, "Oh, my gosh, I'm going to die!"

I went to the sink to wash my hands with hot water, and I found my clue. The soap suds in my hands began to turn blue. Baffled, I kept scrubbing the blue off of my hands and watched it drip down the sink.

It dawned on me. 

I bought a new pair of jeans about a week ago- the kind you're supposed to wash a million times because of the indigo dye they're made with. 

I haven't washed them a million times, and I definitely keep my hands in my pockets like, always. 

So my indigo-dye suds and I went to knock on my mom's door... "Mystery solved!"

****

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6-7, ESV

Sometimes I panic about things that are overwhelming in the moment, but in the end, God had it the whole time. It wasn't worth me worrying about... it wasn't worth the panic. Even real-life, scary situations are like that. God has it the whole time. Maybe in the end, it will just be indigo dye. Maybe it's something a little more serious, but in everything we are promised the peace of God in our hearts and minds when we bring our worries to Him. 

That's today's story. :)

<3, Robin

Living in Limbo (The Truth About Reverse Culture Shock, etc.)

It's been quite some time...

It's not that I didn't want to blog or journal in the last two weeks, but I've simply lacked words. Now that I've been back for a bit, I feel like I can gather my thoughts. Well, I'll try to, anyway. 

I came back to America with the expectation of "reverse culture shock" being difficult, sure, but I didn't know how. I thought I would walk into grocery stores and fall to the ground in tears because I have too much. (Walmart was a little overwhelming, I'll admit, but I skipped the dramatics.) What I didn't realize was that life here in America didn't pause when I left the country. Life continued; things changed; people moved, married, had babies. I was overwhelmed not so much by materialism, but simply by the fact that life had continued, both here and there, almost as if in a parallel universe. (How else do I describe this?!) There are so many differences in the two worlds, in the two lifestyles that continue moving forward, and words simply can't describe them. I guess only experience can. 

I was also really overwhelmed by the amount of white people. Just sayin'. 

There's a thousand little things that I never noticed changing in myself while I was in Uganda:

I have no concept of time. 

I eat slowly.

I walk slowly.

My accent keeps floating between Southern-Cajun and borderline British... I don't know. Lol.

In five months of living in Uganda, there's one common lesson that I learned, and I learned it multiple times. God is Sovereign. Life happens, and with it, all the good and the bad. Joy and heartbreak. Life and death. But God is still good, and He is still Sovereign. No matter how uncertain circumstances are, I choose to trust Him.

****

So that brings me to today. 

As I have seen people for the first time since being back, similar conversations happen:

"Hey! Welcome home! Was it amazing?"

And, it never fails: "When do you go back?"

It's like everyone knew I was planning to go back or something. ;)

Right now, I'm in a good season; naturally, that means it's actually a really awkward, confusing time of figuring things out- but I trust God, and therefore it's a good season. I've been calling it "living in limbo." It's the time where I know exactly where I want to be, when I want to be there, what I want to do... all that's left is the "How?" that so inevitably follows.

Jesus knows. I might be living in limbo, surrounded by life happening, but God is still good, and He is still Sovereign. No matter how uncertain circumstances are, I choose to trust Him. 

Love and prayers, 

<3, Robin

Jesus Sends Me Love-Notes

Today is my last day in Gulu. 

As you can imagine, I'm heartbroken. In service this morning, my emotions went crazy somewhere between worship and the announcement video. I had to say goodbye to people, and I hate goodbyes. 

On the way home from church, I stopped at the grocery to grab something quick for lunch. As I approached the bakery to see if they had samosas, three little girls walked up to me, each holding a fistful of flowers. They stretched their little bouquets up to me, not saying a word but smiling shyly as little girls will. At first I just smiled back and commented on how beautiful they were, but as they continued to reach them up to me, I realized that they were giving me these flowers. 

I don't know where the flowers came from, and I don't know where the little girls got the idea of giving flowers to a Mzungu lady at the grocery, but something inside me just knew. 

These were from Jesus. 

Each of the little girls shoved her fistful of flowers into my open hand and ran away.

A large group of people was standing in line at the bakery, and they watched the whole scene. The adults smiled at me knowingly, and one by one told me, "They just like you!" 

As I stepped into the check-out line, the little girls stood ahead of me, waiting on their older sisters to make their purchases. 

I couldn't resist the moment. 

They told me their names: Michella (left), Lisa (center), and Laura (right). 

With a wave and of course, a piece of chocolate for each of them, I thanked them again and told them good bye. 

And on the way home, I said thank you to Jesus. He sent me flowers through three beautiful little girls just to make my day better, to make a hard goodbye an even fonder farewell. 

Oh, Gulu town. How I will miss you. 

<3

"First sit!"

I now live in a culture that is known for what is called "Africa time." What that means is a super laid-back culture that lives in the moment. 

I guess when you think about it, living in the moment is the only thing that makes sense here. The past only proves how uncertain their future really is, so now is all most Africans feel they have to live for. This is often reflected in their monetary spending and lack of savings, but it is also, less obviously, seen in the way Africans soak in personal moments.

 In Western culture, time is of the essence. You show up early to work in order to prove you are reliable; you show up at least on time to a dinner engagement with a friend in order to show respect for that person; and if you're running late, you make a phone call and a long speech full of apologies (and excuses). 

Here, things are far more laid-back. Now, especially in bigger, more westernized cities, businesses and NGOs are striving to place value in being on time. However, the priority is still the moment you are in. 

So if you are caught up in deep conversation, you first finish your conversation. 

If you are at a restaurant eating lunch, you first finish your lunch. 

And if you are taking tea, you first finish your tea! 

Heaven forbid you ask for a to-go tea or coffee. 

The waiter will stare at you, mind-boggled, as if you had asked him for the moon, please, and a glass of milk?

He doesn't know you, he doesn't know where you are going or just how important this meeting is going to be. Yet he will reply, "First sit! First sit and take your tea!"

Obviously, whatever you are going to do can wait!

If somehow you manage you make it past the waiter with your to-go tea, people will gawk at you wherever you go. Why on earth would you not first sit and take your tea?!

You might even run into a bold stranger that will fuss at you. "You first sit to take tea!"

By the way, you don't drink tea here. You take it. You take any liquid you would drink. You take milk, water, juice (pronounced joo-iss here), tea, or coffee. 

Do excuse me. I need to take tea. 

<3

Greetings From Jeneth!

Remember Jeneth? 

If not, you can find her story here.

(I'm not going to lie... I feel really cool that I just inserted a link in a blog post. Who knew?)

Anyway, I went to Jeneth's house tonight to visit and eat dinner with her. She and I have gotten to be really good friends through working together and hanging out outside of work. 

This afternoon I took a boda to the hostel where Jeneth lives with other students, most of them going to Gulu University. Jeneth met me outside with a hug, then led me to the room where she lives. Outside her door stood a little charcoal stove, only knee-high, with a saucepan of boo (pronounced "bo"- a dark green, leafy vegetable resembling spinach) boiling on top. Jeneth showed me where to drop my bag, and then I sat with her outside to cook. 

We peeled and diced tomatoes, peppers, onions, and garlic, fried them and added them to the boo with some eggs. We broke spaghetti and fried it with veggies as well, and then let everything cook as we chatted. 

We talked of our cultures, we talked of our schools, we talked of our dreams.

As we talked of our plans and dreams, Jeneth asked me about my friends back home who have read her story, and she asked me to greet all of you.

"Tell them I am so thankful for their prayers," she said. "I am so glad that God can use my story to encourage people!" 

The boo turned out quite nicely, by the way. Perhaps I'll make some in the States. 

<3

Sure, We'll Call This Gumbo

What do you call it when you have a little bit of everything? Miscellaneous? Diversity? Gumbo? 

Sure, we'll call this gumbo. 

After all, in seventeen days I'll back in the great state of Louisiana. 

What you're about to read is gumbo, a little bit of everything, served over rice. 

****

I'm sorry, I must have blanked out for a sec... did I just type that I have SEVENTEEN days left in Uganda?! 

Oh, dear.

****

The past two weeks have been a blur, filled with:
spontaneous trips to Kampala for a week full of meetings, 

the concentrated group effort toward putting together new programs for Baby Watoto, 

the failed attempt of making chapati and getting hot-oil burns instead, 

getting called brown for the second time in my life, 

keeping a watchful eye on all this al Shabab stuff going on, 

discovering that soaked chick peas will sprout if you forget to cook them,

learning to drive a boda-boda (yes, you read that correctly), 

becoming a godmother again,

more time-juggling as my countdown grows smaller and smaller, 

more dreaming as the future gets closer and closer, 

and more praying for my computer than ever before.

All of the above I'll eventually get around to blogging about. I hope. 

****

I have a legitimate prayer request. 

Three weeks. That's all I'm asking: for my computer to survive three weeks until I can get home and back everything up. The poor old thing is dying a slow and painful death, which I knew before I came here, but I thought it would last a bit longer. It already can't live without being connected to a charger, thanks to its swim back in July, and now it's starting crashing for no reason, particularly in the middle of Skype with my parents, saving a document for Babies' Home, or something of equal importance. 

So, dear prayer warriors, I'm asking you to add my computer to your prayer list. 

I really, really appreciate it. 

 ****

The realization has hit me. I have just over two weeks left in this place which, truthfully, has become my home. I've chosen to come to terms with this, the idea of leaving my home, and I'm actually getting excited to see everyone. It's like the feeling you get when you're about to go on vacation- time to relax, see everyone, eat good food, breathe in humidity, and then return home. 

Because, of course, at the end of vacation, you do return home.

How could I do anything else? 


****

Thank you everyone for your prayers and support throughout these five months. It's not yet over, so keep an eye out for more stories. 

Greater things are still to come. 
<3, Robin