“I am doing well because I am going to get everything I need
like school fees, clothes, food, and mattresses.”
Jennifer, age 10
I have been reading the children's letters. These letters, written for their "dear" sponsors, are the candid, simple and loving hearts of Ugandan children put on paper. Most are written on wrinkled sheets from a legal pad, edges frayed, ink smeared. A few of them are stained with blotches of dirt, a hard thing to avoid when writing on a cement "veranda" walkway surrounding the orphanage home. These letters aren't works of art, but they are gems.
For a rare moment these letters are mine. Then I must split them up and send them away to the loving sponsor families who have the thrill of getting to hang them on their refrigerators. They are my joy to distribute, but if you can't tell...I'm a little jealous.
Don't misunderstand, I get my fair share of letters. I also have a possessive way of scanning letters into my computer so that I never truly have to part with them. But there is nothing quite like a collective stack of letters from the Ranch on Jesus children sitting on my desk. It is the closest I come to having them here.
They have to make you smile:
"I am proud that you had a good Christmas season."
Balita, age 9
"I will never forget my sponsor until Lake Victoria runs dry."
Juliet, age 12
"I always pray for your nation and its leadership. You know very well that a good leadership leads a nation in peace and financially developing and so a good leader should be elected from God. That's why you have got a miracle of a black president. I say it is a miracle because it has never been in your nation. So just praise the Lord for that."
Maurice, age 15
As much as these letters make me smile, they also make me teary-eyed. Tears of gratitude that I have the privilege to know these children and meet their needs. Tears of pride over those I have watched blossom and flourish into remarkable young men and women. And tears of conviction as I sit dumbfounded by these kid's peace and gratitude.
“I am doing well because I am going to get everything I need
like school fees, clothes, food, and mattresses.”
Jennifer, age 10
How little I have done. How little I have given. How much they tell me they have.
Beans and rice.
A tattered school uniform.
A thin foam mattress.
"Everything I need."
As I sit and dwell on the sentiments of Jennifer and dozens like her I can only think one thing:
I need to be more like you.


