I'm might be a nomad, but I still feel at home.

Since my last post, things have changed; the biggest change is that I am currently homeless.

But I promise that it sounds worse than it is.

God answered my prayers in a very evident, but strange way. As most of you know, I had been asking for everyone to join me in praying for clarity and direction and clearly open or closed doors during my time here.

A few nights ago, God clearly closed a door physically and made it clear it was time to move on to something else. I am very thankful for the friendship and accommodation that I received at Suubi House and nothing bad happened and I was not kicked out, as some of you have joked.

Put as simply as possible, the situation became exactly what I had been praying for- clear and undeniable feeling that it was time to trust God to step out in faith.

It was a larger step of faith than I realized it would be, however, because I was across the city with a busy day planned and no internet to sort stuff out. So, within just a few hours, I was able to find a guest house for less than $7 for the night and since I had a change of clothes in my day bag already, I was able to lay my head down and sleep for the night!

But even at $7 a night, I cannot afford to stay for long on my very limited missionary budget. The next night, I was able to stay at the base where I have volunteered previously for free. Then last night, another guesthouse that was a little more expensive ($10) but included coffee, tea, breakfast delivered to my room, and, honestly, a little more secure feeling for me.

It has been three days of leaping blindly from the boat and onto the crashing waves, trusting that the one who made the waves is in control of them. 

And, y’all, it’s been amazing to see God provide. 

I was thinking there was no way I could afford a hotel room on my budget and I was a little nervous and “over-thinking” everything. Like how I was going to transport all my bags and belongings from where I was or where I would put them in the shuffle or what I was going to do.

All three nights, it took until around 10 p.m. before I even knew where I was going to sleep that night. But all three nights, God provided literal open doors for me.

I have friends that have offered to help me find a room to rent (which would be an additional $70 a month) and friends that have offered up their own homes, while I figure stuff out.

There have been a few more changes, but I will just quickly touch on them and not elaborate with a lot of details yet.

I am not going to the Lake Victoria region this week; more planning needs to happen first.

I will be going to stay in my home village for a few days. (As long as the van is still coming for us, as planned. You never know, because this is Africa and things always change…)

I have seen the addition of numerous financial supporters this month—some one-time donations and some monthly! And am now officially financially supported for all my ongoing bills in America. Now, I can focus on raising what I will be needed to sustain myself while in Uganda.

I have met a few new friends that have been of great help and reunited with old friends.

Again, a lot has changed in the past week, but God has been constant and providing every single minute of it.

I promise the next post will finally have more personal stories and photos in it!

Learning to redefine my "ministry"

As I pour a small bucket of warm water over my upside-down head in the shower room, I watch with a little disgust as the water that circles the drain from rinsing my hair is dark red from all the dirt.

This red dirt permeates every surface and sticks everywhere, sometimes even refusing to come off after a long, hard scrubbing.

My feet are already stained a few shades darker and my house slipper have distinct red footprints in them, no matter how hard I try to clean my feet before putting on my slippers.

My belongings are all unpacked and organized- well, as much as possible.

I’ve even fallen into a routine, of sorts.

It’s been one week since I arrived in Uganda.

It’s been a week of mountaintops and valleys, a week of high highs and low lows.

In one week, I’ve walked almost 20 miles: to the market for food, to the house where my friends stay, to the café for breakfast dates, to the corner for pre-made street food, to a bridal shower where I was the only mzungu.

I’ve already played Phase 10 with friends more times than I can count. I’ve received words of encouragement from friends and been in conversations that weren’t my favorite. I witnessed an eruption of joy in a public hangout when our favorite soccer team won—barely. I have been whistled at and called to while walking down the street, something I learned years ago to laugh at and not be affected by. I have had the color of my skin cause the prices of stuff to suddenly double or triple when they see me, but I then disappoint them when they find out I’m not new to this and I know what the prices should be. I’ve laughed late into the night with people I love and cried early into the morning while alone on my bed. I have stumbled on uneven, terrible dirt roads in the dark and slipped on wet dirt roads after a rainstorm and almost fell on my butt. I have taken bodas and taxis, both by myself and with others, in the day and in the evening. There have been times where we are in a blackout (like now) and times where it seems every light in the entire city is switched on. I met new friends and reunited with old friends. I have loved and been loved.

This week, a lot of things have happened. 

The one thing that continued to disturb my mind is that none of them were “ministry”.

A few nights ago, I didn’t sleep at all. I couldn’t.

Instead, I just sat in my bed and wept.

Floods of doubt washed over me.

I felt like I had no idea what I was doing here.

I thought I was wasting my time and my supporter’s money.

I hadn’t “served” anyone or had any impactful photos I could post and get people engaged in my life here.

I felt like I was just living in Uganda on mostly other people’s money and I was not a good return on their investment.

Then, after external processing it all to my parents and someone here, I could breathe again.

I do have no idea what I’m doing here, but God does. And that’s all that matters. 

Not a minute or dollar has been wasted, though I cannot see the full impact yet.

I have been serving exactly where I was needed: to my friends. Multiple times throughout the week, I was a shoulder to cry on or a hug to be felt. I was a source of laughter, friendship, and support. In the times of diverse emotional and physical needs, I was able to literally be right beside them, spurring them on.

I am living in Uganda on other people’s money. But that’s what I wanted. That’s what I have been called to do. To live. I’m not a volunteer here on a short-term trip. I’m an American who has come home for Uganda to live, no matter how long or short.

It’s been a very emotional seven days here.

But, looking back, I wouldn’t have changed anything.

I’ve seen big life lessons and God’s provision and hand at work in the good and the bad, the pretty and the ugly.

God has never once abandoned me and he never will. He knows the plans and what the future holds. He’s operating in his own time, which is something I usually do not comprehend until I look back.

And, just yesterday, more doors of opportunity were opened here!

I have been feeling that most of the organizations I have come knowing about are not the things that I am passionate about. That was hard because it meant starting over while in Uganda, with very limited internet for researching.

Good thing life in Uganda isn’t about researching via the internet, but rather about using the knowledge and resources of friends and family for networking!

They have been providing me with so many names and organizations.

So, beginning next Monday, things are going to be looking a lot different for me!

After this weekend, which is full of wedding festivities for my best friend from my time here in 2012 (stay tuned for pictures of me in traditional Ugandan wear and in cultural ceremonies!), I think I will be heading out to Lake Victoria for about a week to serve with a friend who my mom served with in Haiti and dad and I have served with in the past here in Uganda. He has some big things happening for the Kingdom in a village in the middle of the lake and I can’t wait to see what that looks like!

Like I previously said, it’s been a week of high highs and low lows.

But, I’ve finally accepted that with living in a new country and long-term ministry, not every day will look like ministry. With short-term trips, you bounce from one thing to another, trying to squeeze as much as possible in your short time. If that was the case with all long-term missionaries, the burn out rate would be higher and their time on ground, as a result, would be shorter because they need to get away and recharge. Some long-term missionaries can do “picturesque ministry” every day because God has called them to that, and I might be there someday. However, for at least these first two weeks, I’ve been called to minister by being a friend in all circumstances.

It might not look how I thought it was going to, but I am getting much better at seeing the bigger picture that God is putting into place here for me.

“Don’t let the next thing or the last thing rob you of the big thing in your life.” (Louie Giglio)

"Orphans aren't usually orphans" and other disturbing facts from the villages

Only about an hour ago did the night air surrounding my room finally become still. The thumping club music has stopped and the club’s patrons have stumbled home, their voices loud, but their words slurred. The worship music blaring a few houses down, assumingly to drown out the noises I just mentioned, has also ceased. The taxis and bodas have stopped zooming by as they bounce almost uncontrollably down the windy, dirt roads. The dogs have stopped barking and howling choruses to each other across the city. The quiet sound of crickets in the far-off grass is the only thing that can be heard.

It’s 4:30 in the morning. I haven’t yet been able to sleep tonight but I am not the least bit tired.

For the second night in just three nights, God has used this stillness as a productive time for me to listen to his guiding and figure some things out.

In the quietness, God is reminding me of the things I have a burning and unquenchable passion for.

While I understand the importance of orphanages and baby homes, I have come to realize that partnering with them, through past experiences, is not where my heart is happy. Something about them never set well in my spirit. But I appreciated all that the house mammas and volunteers did for those children and honestly believed they were getting a better life than the life they would have had otherwise.

Unfortunately, that’s also what mammas in poverty-stricken villages think.

Today, I uncovered some unsettling facts.

Did you know that a lot of “orphans” in those homes aren’t actually orphans? 

According to the Lumos Foundation (and many other reputable organizations), at least 80% of children in orphanages have at least one living parent.

Let that sink in for a moment.

Eight out of ten children you might encounter in a Ugandan orphanage aren’t orphans.

So, you ask, why are they there?

The biggest reason is the same as I also believed: they are getting a better life there.

Hopeless, poor mammas from the village hear about a new orphanage run by Westerners that has thousands of dollars at its disposal and provides the children with medical care, three meals a day, a bed and mosquito net, clothes, hygienic care, schooling, and maybe even the chance to be adopted and live in America, where all their dreams will come true.

If you’re a struggling mamma who thinks you can do none of those things I just listed for your children and you only want what you feel is best for your baby, you will most likely go into town, find that orphanage, and leave your child at their front door. 

“Now they’ll have a better life,” you think. “Even though I’ll never see them again.”

The second reason so many children in orphanages aren’t orphans is a lack of knowledge.

Men from the city come into these same low-income villages and promise to find the children a sponsor from America. “These sponsors will pay for everything your child needs!” they promise. “Just sign this document and they get to come with us to the city and be boarded while we take care of them with this sponsor’s money!”

While, we Americans, think that sounds too good to be true and wouldn’t sign away our children like that, in actuality, it is not unheard of in Uganda for sponsors to request children from villages like that. The mammas see it as an answered prayer!

Unfortunately, this man has no intentions of finding sponsors for the children. He is a middle man, collecting children to sell them to people that will put them into orphanages. But the document they signed is in English- a language they cannot speak or read- and it just released them from all parental rights. They have just unknowingly signed their name to legally make their child an “orphan.”

Now, I’m not saying all orphanages operate this way; it is not common yet, but some are very aware of this problem and have procedures and safe checks in place to avoid having non-orphans in their orphanages. 

The sad part is, however, most orphanages don’t even know they are trying to find families for children who already have them.

While the reform of orphanages is currently underway by the Ugandan government and still needs a lot of help, the one thing about all that that tugs hard at my heartstrings is the hopelessness of the mammas. 

Yes, we can change the orphanages and have more strict rules and checks in place to limit the number of non-orphans they accept. 

Or we can start the change even further back than that.

What if we started the change among the mammas?

What if we went into villages empowering mammas?

We give them hope. We educate them, maybe even in English to avoid being tricked. We teach them how to provide for their families. We teach them skills so they can make money, other than farming. We educate them on basic, inexpensive hygiene and how to avoid illnesses. We love them. We tell them they are worthy. We encourage them and say they are capable of providing for their children. We remind them that a life of challenges for their child with a loving family beside them is still better than a “good” life in an orphanage spending months, years, even decades without the love of a family. We rally all the villagers to help, where they can. We bring back the saying, “It takes a village to raise a child.” We point them to the bible, to God, to hope and joy. We offer bible studies to strengthen them spiritually, as well. We look into their eyes and lovingly say, as tears fall down our cheeks, “You are not alone.”

What would happen to the number of children in orphanages if we empowered and educated their mammas before they thought they had no other choice but to give them up or before they signed a document that was in opposition to what the man in front of them was saying?

My heart is for the mammas and their children in villages. 

It has been for six years now, since my first trip to Uganda. 

It wasn’t until a sleepless, quiet night staring out my window at the stars while tucked into my sheet and under my mosquito net, that I God showed me the small puzzle pieces of what that calling in my heart looked like and what needs to be done.

I don’t know what that looks like yet. I don’t know if there is an organization already in place with this same calling and mission. I don’t know if I will be the creator of a new organization that will put that into place.

But I know there is a need for the hope and joy of Jesus Christ to come in and turn a hopeless, joyless situation completely around and be a testimony to what the power of Christ’s love can do.

Please join me in praying for what this looks like in action. I’m trying to be open to whatever doors may come my way, which could be starting my own organization that does all of that or it could be partnering with one who is already trying to implement that.

No luggage? As they say in Uganda, "No problem!"

As you might have seen on social media, I’ve arrived in Uganda safe and sound and without luggage! 

Praise God!

Yes, I am actually praising God for my delayed luggage because if I had to choose between myself and my luggage, I would choose leaving the luggage behind every time if it meant I would arrive on time.

It really was nothing short of God’s provision that I am in Uganda right now, instead of still sitting on a plane. Due to some technical difficulties, my plane from Atlanta was delayed, (and of course it was after we were already sitting on it) so for two hours they repaired a faulty light box. Well, my layover in Amsterdam was only two hours, so I’m sure you’re seeing why this was a problem.

When we arrived in Amsterdam it was 9:55 a.m.; that is the same time my next flight was to depart. Myself and a Ugandan mamma with her three-year-old boy were discussing our plan of action while we waited for the plane to taxi. We decided we would simply grab everything and run to wherever was closer, be it the gate the flight was at or the ticket agent to figure out when the next flight was.

Well, the airport didn’t have room for us at a gate since we were past our arrival time. Another fifteen minutes later, the captain finally came over the intercom, “Ladies and gentlemen-- lucky you, you will get to step foot on Amsterdam! Unfortunately, since we don’t have a gate, we have to taxi here on the tarmac and you’ll have to walk down some stairs and across the tarmac to the shuttle, which will then take you to the airport building.”

Mamma Micah looks at me with wide eyes and laughs, “Are you serious?! But, no problem, I have faith! God will cause the plane to delay for us! He knows how important it is that we get back home!”

I wish I could say I believed her. I was already thinking about how to contact my ride from the Ugandan airport and let her know I would not be there on time. And, because there is only one flight to Uganda from Amsterdam daily, I was already praying I had everything in my carry-on for an overnight in Amsterdam.

As I rolled Mamma Micah’s two carry-on roller bags, along with my own, and she pushed Micah in his stroller, we walked into the airport and were stopped by a KLM agent, “Those of you on the flight to Entebbe, we have delayed the plane. But you only have ten minutes until it leaves. It is leaving from gate F9.”

We quickly said a prayer of thankfulness then looked at the map and saw F9 was literally the furthest gate from where we were—all the way across the airport! Mamma Micah and I exchanged glances and I laughed and said, “We go?” and then we took off running.

I’m sure we were quite the sight to see; three-year-old Micah laughing uncontrollably in his stroller as his mamma zig-zagged in and out of people, myself right beside her pushing my roller bag in front of me and pulling her two behind me. I’m sure we looked nothing short of a circus act!

We turned the final corner and saw the most beautiful sign: “F9”. As we dashed up to the gate attendant, the all-call came over the intercom, “Final boarding call for flight 9812 to Entebbe. The boarding doors are now closing.”

We nearly threw our passports and boarding passes at the agent for her to scan and ran down the tunnel to the plane. We reached our seats, which we had just realized were next to each other, and collapsed into them, while the stewardesses went to seek out overhead bins for our bags.   

We made it!

We didn’t know what else to do but to thank God for hearing our prayers and actually delaying the plane for us!

The flight itself was, thankfully, uneventful; just another long eight hours in order to reach our final destination: Kampala, Uganda.

Upon arrival, however, Mamma Micah, myself, and other passengers I recognized from our flight discovered we had one thing in common: our bags were not at baggage claim.

“Yes, your bags did not make the short connection time. Yes, they are still in Amsterdam. They will arrive Thursday morning. Please fill out these forms,” the unapathetic attendant at the lost baggage desk told all approximately twenty of us.

Another three hours later, at 2:30 a.m., I was finally able to leave the airport and begin the hour drive home with my oh-so-wonderful new friend, who waited the whole process out while standing in the passenger pick up area.

So, yes, I did wear the same dress today, after two days of wearing it during all my travels, making it three days in the same outfit. And I had to improvise my sleep wear last night. But, thankfully, I did pack some {ahem} necessary clothing items in my carry on that I was grateful to be able to change.

Thankfully, I also left almost all of the clothes that I had brought during my last trip in October, at the organization that I was with, knowing I’d wear them during this trip and would have to pack less if I left them here. This morning, I walked just a few minutes down the road and saw all my friends there, but also returned home with a space saver bag filled with some outfit changes for the next few days.

While the days didn’t go exactly as planned and many things were less than ideal, there were so many things and situations where I said, “Thank you, God!”

This week, I’ve already learned how important and influencing your perspective can be to both you and those around you.

I can choose to complain to my fellow passengers about the delays in flight and problems with baggage. I could be upset that I am without my bags and most of my worldly belongings and, likely, no one would blame me for feeling that way.  

Or I can choose to laugh and run next to a mamma and her son, who I wouldn’t have had the chance to meet, as we see a mutual, answered prayer coming to life. I can be joyful that I miraculously made the connecting flight and am now sitting in my Ugandan home- how permanent or temporary of a home it is has yet to be determined. And that it is after a day filled with new and familiar faces and undeniable evidence that God is up to something bigger than I can even imagine!

Today, as your day in America is about halfway finished, take a moment to evaluate the perspective you’ve carried into your day. More importantly, does your perspective need to be shifted to allow you to see the provisions in today instead of just seeing the things that didn’t seem to go “right”?

“I will praise the Lord, who counsels me; even at night my heart instructs me. I have set the Lord always before me. Because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken. Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body also will rest secure, because you will not abandon me to the grave, nor will you let your Holy One see decay. You have made known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.”

Psalm 16:7-11

"What am I supposed to do now, God? I had a plan!"

I untie its faux leather strings and open my journal to the next blank page.

But instead of words flowing from my pen, only tears fill the empty page.

It has been a day filled with being completely blindsided by news, lots of changes, a little bit of hurt, and now a whole world of uncertainty.

“What am I supposed to do now, God? I had a plan!”

I had a plan.

Me. 

That was the problem.

Once again, months before, God had showed me one single puzzle piece for the picture and I rushed to shove all the pieces in so that I could complete the entire picture of the puzzle— even if I was shoving pieces where they didn’t quite fit.

I clearly heard God telling me I would be returning to Uganda in 2017 and even heard an exact date.

But I never bothered to ask what I would be doing in Uganda or where I would be serving. I just assumed it was the same things that I had been doing there for the past six years.

As most of you know, I’m pretty stubborn and, once I set my mind to something, it takes a lot to deter me from it.

It’s a good thing that God knows me so well! He knows the best way to deal with me is to slam the doors shut and lock them when I’m moving in the wrong direction. Otherwise, I will claw and pry my way through the crack that was left open.

I’m a fighter by nature. But sometimes, I fight for the wrong things.

I felt it slowly happening: the creaking of old, heavy door as it’s beginning to swing shut.

I fought. I justified. I cried. I pleaded. I bargained.

Finally, I conceded.

And with a giant whooshing that knocked the wind and selfishness right out of me, that old, heavy door slammed shut and the padlock quickly latched.

Something strange happens when you think you have the next eight months of your life figured out and then, suddenly, you know nothing.

Actually, one of two things can happen: you can break down and throw a pity party for yourself or you can get on your face and ask God to show you his bigger plan and what you need to do next.

Honestly, I spent a few minutes doing the first before I realized I should be doing the latter.

After playing a few worship songs on my phone and literally crying out a prayer, I sat still and listened.

Within minutes, I felt a peace that I hadn’t had in months!

I realized I had been living in a constant state of stress and panic. 

As I tried to figure out things, as I tried to sort out details, as I tried to pack, as I tried to answer questions that I didn’t have answers to, as I tried to explain what I would be doing, even though I didn’t quite know.

It was like looking down and realizing that I had been clenching my hand into a fist. It didn’t really hurt or register with me that I was even doing it. But as soon as I released it, it felt so much better. 

It was relaxed and open to receive something else.

That clenched fist was wrapped about the organization I wanted to serve with. I was holding it so tight that I was being unknowingly effected. 

When I released it to God, my hand was suddenly open to receive all the things he wanted to give me.

That being said, things have changed.

I am still returning to Uganda on Monday, as planned.

I will still be ministering to children while there.

But there is a lot I don’t know.

And, for once, I am thrilled by the unknown!

God has opened a lot of doors for ministry partners in Uganda and I intend on prayerfully and physically investigating each and every door!

While my World Race team was in Thailand, instead of having a set ministry partner, we participated in what was called, “Ask the Lord” month.

We spent the month in a constant state of prayer asking God, “Who do you want us to work with?” and “When?”

There were nights where we weren’t sure where we would sleep or what we would be doing for ministry, but we followed where God led us and it was the best month of ministry and growth!

That month or its experiences have been brought to my mind countless times in the past three days. I think that’s what my time in Uganda will look like; I will spend days, weeks, and months in prayer seeking God’s direction and plan and following where he leads.

Like I mentioned, I do have a few organizations I have connected with already, one of whom includes a ride from the airport and an unconditional place to sleep, as I figure things out. 

That’s proof that God is already providing, because being stranded at the airport without a place to stay has been my only fear so far.

I now have more peace and excitement about all this, even though I know less now than I did a week ago!

Things change.

But God remains the same.

Keep watching this blog (or subscribe in the right sidebar so it'll come straight to your email inbox) because big, exciting things are going to happen very soon!

P.S.- Another slight change: I received my extended visa approval yesterday! Praise God! I didn't get the eight months I originally asked for, but I did get six months instead of the typical three months! So, it looks like I will be coming back a little earlier than I thought to help my sister plan her wedding.

P.P.S- I also got my prayer cards from the printer today and they are ready to be sent off to those of you wanting a reminder to pray for me and put up in your office, room, or on the fridge! Let me know and I will get one mailed or delivered to you!

Bitty boys, huge hearts

“Um, Miss Cassie, we have some dollars for you,” the four-year-old excitedly tells me, as he’s leaning against the peninsula in the kitchen while I’m sitting at the table.

Apparently, unable to put two and two together, I respond with a half-question, “Oh yeah?”

“You’re not supposed to tell her yet!” his brother disappointedly calls from the other room.

“It’s ok,” their mom comforts them. “Do you want to go get it now?”

A few minutes later, all three boys return to the kitchen, in a neatly-formed line.

First, the four-year-old approaches me. He opens his tiny hand and, inside, is a neatly folded bill. As he hands it to me, a smile stretches across his entire face.

Second, the seven-year-old. In the same way, he opens his hand into mine and another folded bill falls into my hand. He says, “This is for you to go to Uganda.”

Third, the ten-year-old approaches. As he looks around, he says, “Bless you in Uganda.” He extends his hand with a thicker stack of bills pinched between his thumb and fingers.

Their mom goes on to tell me how they told the boys about my move to Uganda and how I’d be helping the children there through teaching and ministering. The boys asked if they could use some of their money from their piggy banks to give me to help.

These three young boys cheerfully and willingly dug into their personal piggy banks because they believe in what God has called me to in Uganda.

I was, and still am, so overwhelmed at the generosity in their hearts.

In a generation of worldliness and always being told to buy more “stuff”, these boys wanted to give an amount towards furthering the gospel that could have went very far in purchasing themselves some new toys.

Between the boys and the hours of food and conversations with them and their parents, that day was exactly the encouragement and fellowship that I needed to head into this week.

To say that this past week has been tough, might be an understatement.

Things I thought were a sure thing, have fallen through.

Thoughts that are nothing short of discouraging and untrue have tried creeping into my head.

For the past few weeks, I’ve been reading some books about long-term ministry and fundraising. I often found myself saying, “Yeah, I already knew that.”

But then, at the end of the night, I realize I don’t really believe it.

I’ve found out that knowing something and believing something are not the same thing. 

Today, just a handful of days before my plane departs for a world of unknowns in Uganda, I am learning to believe the things that I do already know. Like that the friends and family I have surrounding me love me unconditionally, are super supportive, believe in God's calling over my life, and are encouragement and words of wisdom when I need it.