I awaken suddenly.

With the exception of the tiniest bit of daylight beginning to show through the open curtains and the blue glow of my computer charging in the corner, complete darkness surrounds me.

Even before looking at my phone to find the time, I already know, based on the activity level I can hear, what the current time is.

I'm flooded with familiarity.

The rain is pounding on the concrete slab our compound is built upon and the open window amplifies the sound.
A low rumbling of thunder rolls across the city and lasts for what seems like five whole minutes.
A few minutes later, a choir of street dogs howl and bark in the distance, alerting passersby of their presence.
Then the whir of a few boda boda engines can be heard as they zip by and fade out as quickly as they started.
The first rooster crows.
Then crows again.
Then again a few more times.
The loudspeaker of the local mosque boasts the call to worship, which can be heard throughout the entire city.
Neighbors can be heard as they greet eachother and prepare for their days, despite the pouring rain.
Clanging of the large, metal doors of gates begins, as people begin the walk from their houses to the taxi or boda stages to go to work.
The cranes and other birds screech in sky as they fly.

It's 4:30 a.m.

I'm not awake due to jet lag or the time differences between here and America or excitement to begin my time in Uganda, this is just what my body does when I'm in Uganda. 

It syncs seamlessly with the local culture.
There is something in me that says, "The locals are up. You should be, too."

I lay on my foam mattress, wrapped in the blanket I borrowed from my plane ride here with my feet poking out the end, touching the mesh of my mosquito net. The breeze the rain storm has brought is a stark contrast from the hot, sticky air that surrounded me just a few hours before. 

And, for two hours, I just lay here and listen.

All these sounds combined make for my favorite alarm to wake up to.

Soon, the entire city will transform into a scene that is fast-paced, hard-working, and very very noisy.

But for a few hours every morning, I get to witness as the city slowly wakes up from the still, silent night and begins its day.

I still don't know what today will hold for me. (Or any other day that follows, for that matter.)
The other girl here at the base in Kampala with me, Elaine, is a nurse and goes to Katalemwa on Wednesdays. Katalemwa is a rehabilitation center for children with "disabilities", which can range from severe burns from falling into cooking fires to shattered bones to genetic and developmental disorders. I've worked with Katalemwa in previous years and the joy those children have, despite their circumstances, is so encouraging. 

My friends on staff here at Empower A Child will also be coming into  work today, so I should be able to see them, too! Since I arrived at 11 p.m. last night, they had already gone home and I only saw the couple of people who came to the airport to pick me up. 

There is also talk about going to the village! The headmaster of the school needs to return and Patrick will be taking him. I'm hoping I can go with them and hug on my friends in the village, until we can nail down a plan to of what we will be doing and when I can move out there to stay in the village longer.

I do know one thing for certain: today, I will be getting myself a Stoney Tangawizi and a chapati for lunch! You can bet on that!

Closer to Uganda

The bags have been checked through to their final destination- Uganda!- and I am left sitting with just my carry-on and a reassuring spirit of peace that everything will be alright.

The airport is frigid cold; but I expected nothing less. I’ve done this same thing so many times that I came prepared.

I am currently staying warm wearing a pair of knee-high compression socks with my heaviest of winter socks over them, which of course are colorful. They show very noticeably through the gaps in my Keens that were once tan but are now stained with the red dirt from previous trips to Uganda. My feet are propped up on my carry-on and I just had to put on my hoodie on top of my long-sleeve shirt. Did I mention I freeze easily? hah

As I stare at the “58” that signals the gate my plane will leave from, which is connected to the walkway in front of me, I can’t help but feel helpless and, yet, relaxed. I hate waiting. I am not the most patient person in the world, as most of you know, but right now, I cannot do anything other than wait.

There is nothing left to worry about at the moment. It does no good to think about what, if anything, I forgot to pack, or if my bags are too heavy, or if the two giant bags of opened sunflower seeds in my carry-on will raise eyebrows, or if we’ll hit traffic on the way and I’ll miss my flight. For now, everything is okay. And, so I just have to sit and wait until my plane arrives.

With the exception of a minor snafu of not appearing to have a ticket for my flight from Detroit to Amsterdam when I arrived at the airport (but an amazing attendant went above and beyond to get it all straightened out for me), the past 24 hours have been smooth. I even slept soundly last night and that’s something I haven’t been doing a lot of lately and I expected to not sleep at all last night like a kid on Christmas Eve.

Everyone keeps asking how I’m feeling and I’m not entirely sure myself. I’m currently in the state that I previously described- relaxed and peaceful. But, when I get caught in my “thinker” mindset, I have a whole gambit of emotions going.

I’m excited beyond words can even correctly convey, but at the same time, I’m nervous.

I’m nervous about leaving my family, specifically my brother. I know my parents and sisters understand it all, but I am not sure if he does yet. I don’t want him to feel abandoned or upset.

I’m nervous about flying completely alone. I’ve only flown alone internationally once before and it included a 14-hour layover in London that about sent me into a psychotic break—luckily my family Skyped with me almost the entire time to keep me awake and entertained! I’m nervous I’ll miss a connecting flight or that one leg will be cancelled suddenly.

I’m nervous that people I’m so excited to see, won’t remember me. I’ve had this fear every year, and it’s always the stupidest feeling because they always run and greet me and I’m always left feeling ridiculous for thinking I wasn’t significant enough to remember.

I’m nervous that I have no idea what I’m doing. Usually, I go with a plan of what will be happening when I’m in Uganda. This year, I have no idea what my six weeks there will look like. I don’t know what I am going to be doing or who all I will be seeing. I’m just operating on faith and prayer.

I know this is a short and seemingly random post, but it’s just a glimpse into what I’m experiencing as I wait for the first flight on my way back home to Uganda.

Please continue to pray for me—for traveling mercies, for directions, for clarity, for peace, and for whatever else you feel led to pray about!

Next time you hear from me, I’ll be writing from the red dirt of Uganda! 

Learning to embrace the unknown

So, today has been strange. As I type this, I am in the driveway at my house with my car door open and my seat reclined back, my feet propped out on the window. I have been off of work for almost two hours but I cannot bring myself to go inside my house. Maybe I’m afraid that when I do, suddenly today will all seem real.

Today, I made a very difficult decision; I turned in my official resignation to the place that has been my job for over a decade. It is a decision I could see coming for about a year, but I hadn’t felt like I was supposed to do it just yet. Today, I felt that release to make it official.

The other side of that is that I was also offered another job today. (Well, actually multiple jobs from friends and family who have been on my side in rally and prayer lately. But this one was an official offer from a business.) Another pharmacy offered me a part-time job and now I have to decide if I want to accept it. It’s not that I necessarily want the job, as much as I think I want the security of finances when I return from Uganda in November.

As most of you know, my biggest source of doubt and faithlessness is finances. God always provides the finances I need, whether it be for mission trips or purchases or bills, but I doubt Him every time before that money all comes in. I am now officially jobless. I will have one less paycheck before Uganda and one less paycheck that will not be deposited while I am in Uganda. This terrifies me. I was basically counting every last “chicken” before it “hatched”, as to what bill every one of those dollars would be going towards. Our fiscal year also starts over in October, so I planned to take my entire two weeks of paid vacation and use it towards my trip. So, there’s another entire two weeks of pay I will no longer be getting.

My brain is freaking out regarding all those “lost” finances that I never should have been banking (hah get it?) on in the first place.

My heart says, “God’s got this.” My brain says, “Yeah, but {insert bill amount due here}.” It’s currently why I am sitting in my car in the driveway trying to figure out what happened today and what my next step is.

This morning, out of the blue, while I was helping my brother get ready for school, he told me that when I get back from Uganda, he will be 12. I laughed and said he misunderstood us; that I would be gone for 2 months and not 2 years. He looked at me with a confused look on his face and said, “Oh… I think you’ll be gone for 2 years.” Now, we’ve already seen that God uses and speaks through this little man. I keep hearing the way he said that replaying in my head. Maybe God’s shown him something that He’s trying to show me.

So, basically, right now, I am asking for your prayers. I am getting ready to walk into a season of entirely new things. For the first time since I was 16, I do not have the security of a job. Even while I was on my various mission trips, I knew the second I returned, I would walk back to my job as soon as I was ready to do so. I’m officially jobless and incomeless.

I have no idea what life will look like moving forward, but I have faith that God does know and He’s got the best plan for me. And maybe I’ll be more able to receive it with open hands now that I’ve released the death-grip I had on the security blanket I called my job. 

I’ve been trying to start a new blog for some time now. I knew it was something I needed to do and it would be the easiest way to keep all my friends, family, and supporters up to date on everything- both leading up to my time in Uganda and the six weeks I am on ground. I could think of the content of some the posts I wanted to make, but the hardest part for me about a new blog is its name. Names are important. They have weight and meaning; there is a reason that you were given the name that you are called. (That’s why I love finding out the full names of my friends.)

I had some creative juices that were flowing and came up with some catchy names that I thought would work and be memorable, but nothing felt quite right. I didn’t want to commit to any of those names.

Yesterday, I was making a decal of Africa with a heart over Uganda because my new cup was too boring. As I was watching my machine work and designing on my computer, I thought, “I really need to get on top of my red dirt writings for my supporters.”

It was like an, “AHA!” moment for me. I said it out loud a few times and realized that’s exactly what I do. Whether I am in a village in Uganda with no running water or electricity holding babies or I am sitting in an air-conditioned, very electricity-heavy coffee shop in the middle of bustling downtown Kansas City drinking a latte, that red dirt has had an undeniable impact on everything I think and write ever since my first trip in 2011.

So, here I am, debuting this portal, which will host my red dirt writings.