Letting Go

Thanks, everyone, for your sweet messages and prayers for our family.  The past two weeks have been so difficult!  Scott and I are an ocean apart, but we're facing similar situations.  We both had plans, and those plans have been altered due to events totally out of our control.

Scott has been held up by a few factors.  There is a lot of tension in Uganda right now with random bursts of violence across the city.  Scott feels safe enough, but the riots and road blocks are slowing his ability to move freely and finish his craft programs.

He will arrive in Atlanta late Monday evening.  He'll likely leave some unfinished business behind him.  But there is nothing he can do about this.  He just has to let go.

I will be at the airport waiting for him.  This was NOT my original plan, but as of Wednesday I've had to throw all my plans out the window.

I have spent the past few days just trying to let go and accept the new reality.

Last Tuesday night I sat down and mapped out the rest of my days until Scott got home.  I am typically not much of a scheduler, but I just felt the need to create some tangible goals. I had some specific things I wanted to accomplish.  I was kind of excited and looking forward to showing Scott my accomplishments when he returned.  I needed to feel productive.

I'd managed to get a few meals made up and stored in the freezer.  I had another day of cooking mapped out for Wednesday, but this is what Wednesday looked like:

I thought maybe I'd have power today.  Now it all looks like a big question mark.  My tree took out two power poles and there are dozens of trees and poles down around our neighborhood.

This is no simple fix.

The devastation that occurred in Alabama is mesmerizing.  I can't even get my mind around it.  And our old home, Chattanooga, was torn up as well.  Our situation seems so minor in light of it all.  I know many facing much worse.

My heart has been so heavy for the thousands and thousands of people whose lives have been utterly changed by this storm.  Just imagining all the details.  All they lost physically.  All they lost relationally.  All the endings and unexpected beginnings.  

I'm just sad.  I can't stop being sad.

My wonderful parents came to my rescue.  My sanity is really what needed rescuing the most.  I have been alone with my three year old for 9 days.  They put us in a hotel room, fed us and made sure I had some time alone to rest. (Vivian, who is currently sleeping next to me, woke me up at 3 am last night to ask if we would ever go to Disney World again.  I'm exhausted!)

But there isn't much more we can do here.  There is little point is sitting around waiting for the power to come on.  So I've decided to go stay with them in GA.  Scott will be home in 3 days!  And I will now be there when he lands.

This is a good thing, but I am still having trouble.

It seems so silly, but it has been really hard for me to accept the changes.  It has been hard to release my plan and embrace the way life is right now.  But I know this is what I have to do, so I pray to that end.

I just want things to be normal again.  I want them to be normal for our family.  I also want them to be normal for every other family I know.

I am learning how to let go.

Two Fighting Elephants

President Museveni won the election back in February.  Today he was sworn into office...again.

Today the main opposition candidate Kizza Besigye who lost to Museveni in February flew back into Uganda after going to Kenya to receive treatment for being sprayed with tear gas in his eyes.

It was a busy day in Uganda.  It's been a busy month.  The demonstrations over food and fuel prices continue.  But these demonstrations now feel more like a fight between the police and supporters of Besigye.

I have a lot of concerns about the state of the nation.  I don't know what to make of it all except I think both sides are acting foolishly and the Ugandan people are caught in the middle.  As an African proverb says, "When two elephants fight it is the grass which suffers."

The BBC website is a great resource to read more about the current events in Uganda.

A helpful article about today's events is found HERE.  You can also view photos and watch videos.  Scott feels that some of these photos/reports exaggerate some of what happened. Scott was there while a lot of the rioting occurred, so I trust his impressions.

It is all very intense for, Uganda, though.  Pray for the people, the grass, to be spared.

Prayer for Alabama!

I woke up at 6 am to the sound of wind beating down our windows.  I was afraid they might blow in.  My hand hit the radio on and I dashed into Vivian's room to grab her out of bed.  I was worried about the tree outside of her window.  The wind was that strong.

The power flickered off and we stood stark still in the dark.  It was over within 60 seconds.

In the calm I thanked God we were safe.  The house was so dark, so I opened the curtains in my bedroom.  That's when I saw this:

If it had fallen the other way it would have landed in my bedroom.  Thank you, Lord!

Scott has always hated that tree.

It took down some power lines, caused a pole to lean which ripped the power lines out of my neighbor's house.  I packed a bag and headed to Amy's house because she had power.

Turns out this was only the beginning.

Tonight I sat in Amy's parent's basement as we watched a mile wide tornado rage across Alabama.  Amazingly, it went just around us in Homewood and around my house in East Lake too, I think.  We never lost power here, although it is out at my house.

We are SAFE, but many people in the southeast are NOT safe.  Entire towns were devastated.  The state of AL is in emergency mode.

I have no idea when we'll get power again.  I'm nervous about all the food in my freezer.  (I spent two days making freezer meals this weekend...so I'm REALLY nervous).  But losing a bunch of food is nothing compared to losing a house.

Many people lost their houses.  Many people lost loved ones.  This was bad.  Very, very bad.  Historic.

I am grateful to be safe.

I sure am missing my husband even more than I was yesterday, though!  Life is crazy and I'm alone.  But not so alone, I've got great friends.  And the Lord has given me great calm in the face of so much instability.

Pray for Alabama, y'all! Pray for the South!

It IS True

It was 2004.  My first year in Uganda.  I was sitting next to Christine, Pastor Isingoma's beautiful wife.

We were in the village of Hoima, a rural, western town where the Isingoma's were planting a church.  This was our last stop on our four week trip.  We'd spent those four weeks sharing the gospel door to door (or hut to hut) alongside Ugandan Christians.

The first time I had to "give a word" to a waiting onlooker I froze.  I nearly passed out in the red dirt.  I was terrified.

Nevertheless we went out every day.  Each day I grew less afraid, more confident.  Each time we shared I polished my approach.  It became more natural.  The Story soon flowed off my tongue like and old friend.

That final day I was especially excited to be with Christine, a smooth-skinned firecracker of a woman.  She was an avalanche disguised as a flower.  I was twice her size, but felt smaller than her.

We had rambled from mud hut to mud hut sharing, inviting people to worship.  The sun was waning and we knew it was nearly time to go home.  I sat on a stump...or a rock...or a fallen tree.  I can't remember. I sat to talk to one more group of listeners.  One more group waiting to hear what this funny white girl who knew didlely-squat about real life had to say to them.

I started in the beginning.  With Creation.  Adam.  Eve.  Abraham.  Isaac.  David.

Then Jesus.

Jesus.

As I spoke I looked up into the trees surrounding the clearing.  The sun was orange, flickering behind the sparse branches.  Staring into that light I heard a clear whisper.

"This is the truth." 

The words came from no one.  They came from the inside.  They were inside of me, but they were not my words.

"It's all true.  Every word you're saying.  Listen.  It's the truth."  

My soul moved like the branches moving in the wind.

To this day I continue to hang onto that moment like a crevice in a cliff.  I look into tree branches hoping to hear it again.  To hear Him say loudly what He quietly says every day.

It IS true. He's alive. Believe the truth.

Protests in Uganda: Update

For those wondering about that is taking place in Uganda right now click here for a helpful article from the New York Times.

I'm growing more concerned.  Not necessarily for Scott as he isn't going to protests.  I'm just concerned for Uganda.

Drum Roll Please!

I was sitting in the back of the Land Cruiser as we bumped and thumped down the road.  We were talking about a certain situation giving us trouble, trying to unpack it.  As we rounded a corner Theophilus, who was driving, said:

“You cannot help unless you have been helped.”

I will never forget where we were, or how he said it exactly.  It was four years ago next month, but I hear it like it is happening now. 

“You cannot help unless you have been helped.” 

Four years and I still think about these words nearly every week. 

What did I, a privileged white girl from the suburbs of Atlanta know about being helped?  I have always had more than I needed.  Was I therefore unable to help anyone?

It took time for me to realize that Kamara wasn’t just meaning physical help, he just meant help of any nature.  

What he meant is that until you humble yourself, unless you allow yourself to be helped by the Lord or his people you are not equipped to truly help others.  I think as we more deeply understand how much help we need from Jesus, we become more effective as we seek to help others. 

And even Jesus needed help.  He needed his friends to stay with him when he was frightened to the point of death in the garden.  He needed their support.  He needed strength from God, so an angel was sent to minister to Him.  If the King of Kings and Lord of Lords could admit he needed help, how much more should we?

And Sarah and Theophilus, the helpers of so many, really needed our help.

Last week without much planning I posted a plea, here, on the blog attempting to do something …anything…. to show my precious friends they were NOT alone.  (In retrospect I should have planned a bit more.  Thankfully I married a planner who helps me channel my impulses to be more effective.)

I wanted to collect an offering to show our gratitude to a brother in sister in Christ who serve so faithfully and thanklessly.  I don’t know what I was expecting.  Maybe a few hundred dollars.

Why do I always underestimate God?  Why do I always underestimate His people?

I didn’t raise a few hundred for the Kamaras.  I raised a few thousand.  Four thousand three hundred and three dollars to be exact!  Did that register, y’all?

$4,303!

I am stunned.

I have no adequate words to thank you all. I am utterly, utterly blessed.

According to Scott, Sarah and Theophilus seemed pretty stunned too. Stunned, grateful, touched.  They LOVED the gift, but they also loved the many notes and warm words of encouragement that accompanied it. 

This couldn’t have come at a better time.  Martha and Mark will need school fees at the end of the month.  Theophilus (according to Scott) looked as if he is losing weight…probably from skipping meals.  I am so so so so so happy to know they have support.  What a gift.


Thank you!  Thank you!  Thank you! to the many of you who gave so generously.  


We've been so moved by your generosity that we're leaving the offering OPEN until the end of the month.  So if you still want to give, YOU CAN.  Just click HERE to be directed to our Pearl Minsitries website.  


God Bless You ALL!

Uganda is Restless

This morning my alarm went off at 5:30 am.  Why?  I don’t know.  Vivian must have turned it on. 

I got up, made coffee and checked my email, hoping for a message from Scott.  There were about seven. 

He told me he was up at 5:30 as well, awakened by the sounds of singing children, their pure, unaccompanied voices worshiping God.

Jealous.

He also told me about some of the political protesting going on in town.  This isn’t the first time there’s been unrest while Scott’s been in Uganda.  In 2009 he experienced some rioting during a dispute between the president and the Bugandan tribal king.  This year the issue is inflation.  

You think our economy is bad?  Someone has said that when America sneezes the world catches a cold.  Well, when America gets a cold guess what the rest of the world gets?

Prices for everyday items such as food, gasoline, and school supplies are skyrocketing.  And there aren’t enough jobs.  Yes, this has impacted our ministry.  But thankfully the exchange rate for the U.S. Dollar is really strong right now.

In February Ugandans reelected president Museveni to his fourth consecutive five year term in office.  In light of the economic tensions, opposition candidates are stirring up Ugandans to action, blaming their troubles on corruption is Musevini’s administration.

I am not sure what to make of it.  I don’t know enough, so I’ll have to get Theophilus’ take on the situation.

(Speaking of Theophilus, I know most of you are just waiting for me to announce the GRAND TOTAL from our love offering.  Don’t worry.  I’ll do that in a separate post later this afternoon.)

I think some people in the States think every time Africans throw a protest the whole nation is about to fall apart. 

Hardly.

But these issues are serious, and change does need to occur in Uganda.  I just hope change will come in a peaceful manner.

Scott is fine.  Mutungo is on the FAR outskirts of the city.  Yet most of what he needs to accomplish on this trip is in town.  He’s got artisans to meet with and crafts to buy.  He has a limited number of days and a long to do list.  Pray that this rioting doesn’t slow down his pace or cause too much delay. 

Pray also for Uganda.  Pray for change, real change.  Real hope.  Real life to prevail. 

That’s what Easter gives us.  Uganda needs it today.

Safe and Sound

Scott called me from the car as he and Theophilus were cruising down Entebbe Road.  It was 11:30 pm.  He had landed safely, collected his bags and were on their way to Mutungo. I remembered this old blog post.  It was one of the first posts I ever wrote.  It was the very first time he went to Uganda without me.

Theophilus made Scott hand him the phone.  Lugandan was blaring through the receiver from the radio.  I barely understood a word he said.  But I understood what he meant.

This wasn't the first call I'd gotten.  Scott also called me at after lunch from Niarobi while he was stopped over.  He got bumped up to business class on his flight down from Amsterdam, so he was pretty happy.  I hung up with him as I walked toward Vivian's preschool classroom.

"Guess who I just talked to?" I asked her as we strolled to the car.  "Daddy!"

"Is he in Africa?"

"Yes, but he isn't with Daddy Theophilus yet.  He has to take one more airplane."

We zoom down the interstate and Vivian is staring seriously out the window.

"Mommy, I'm looking to see if I can see Daddy's airplane in the sky.  Is it white or blue?"

"It's white and blue honey."

I let her believe whatever she wants.

The day was gloomy outside and gloomy for two girls used to waiting for daddy to get home.  We made a tent from a sheet.  Vivian wanted to use a flashlight.  Headache.

She asked me "Is Daddy coming home today or tomorrow?"

I tried to distract us by making waffles...then making pizza...then eating the waffles and pizza on a blanket while we watched "Cats."

Only Vivian ate in costume.

A weird day.  The beginning is always hard, though.  We'll do better tomorrow.  Especially if the sun comes out.

Anyone else hear a certain red headed orphan singing?  Maybe I'm the only one obsessed with musicals.

Tomorrow!  Tomorrow!  I love ya!  Tomorrow!  You're only a day away!

 

And He's Off!

Right now Scott is probably thousands of feet above the Atlantic.  It's just now starting to sink in.  After last month's passport fiasco I wasn't betting on anything until the airplane was off the runway!

Getting geared up for these trips is a lot of work, especially when you do it twice in a four week period!  Scott's pretty exhausted and he hasn't even gotten half way yet.  Please pray for him to feel refreshed.

It's actually been a while since Scott has done a solo Uganda trip.  Our entire family was in Uganda this January/February.  Before that Scott was there in September.  That's over 6 months ago.

It's easy to fixate on all the reasons why I don't like these trips.  I don't like that Scott is in Uganda without me.  I don't like that I am home without him.  It's hard.

But each time it gets a little easier.

This time instead of honing in on all the things that make it challenging and sad, I'm focusing on the more positive aspects.

Without Scott here we aren't on our regular routine.  While my parenting responsibilities intensify my other responsibilities lessen.  I find myself with a lot of spare time.  This year I'm choosing to look at that time as an opportunity.  It's an opportunity to spend time with people and build relationships.  It's an opportunity to do some special projects around the house.  It's an opportunity to focus on my writing.

I've got my goals set and two wide open weeks to achieve them.  I'm actually kind of excited.

And after all, it's only two weeks.  I can do it!

There's Still Time

Scott leaves for Uganda tomorrow so things are pretty hectic around here!  Most of the hecticness has nothing to do with getting ready for Uganda, but more about getting things here in America equipped for Scott's absence.  He's in charge of a non-profit and a business.  Leaving is challenging.

My responsibilities for the next 24 hours aren't quite as intense as his, but I seem just as scatterbrained.  Today I looked down at my feet in the grocery store and realized that while I had taken the time to dress nicely before I left the house, I was still wearing my ugly "yard work flip flops."  Not exactly the best match with gray skinny cords.  Ha!

I've been wearing these flip flops a lot the last two days as I have been scampering outside to our basement every 15 minutes to check on the dryer.  It's been dying a slow and painful death.  Starting just fine, but shutting off randomly before the clothes are even close to dry.  Scott needs clean clothes to travel...so I'm babysitting the dryer.  I'm also considering hanging a clothesline.

In between restarting the dryer I'm sorting through lots of letters from our wonderful Child Sponsors to their children AND letters from many of you to the Kamaras!  That has been fun!

In case you were wondering there is still time left to give to the Kamara Love Offering!  Just click HERE to make a secure online gift through the Pearl Ministries website.  Ideally I would love to have all of the gifts collected by tonight, but we will still gladly accept gifts over the next few days.

I will announce the grand total on Thursday, once Scott has had time to tell Sarah and Theophilus in person.  I am hopeful that they haven't read the blog and that this whole thing will be a BIG surprise.  

Thank you, everyone, for your support!

Puff

There are some days that for no apparent reason I feel the need to cry.  The need is inexplicable.  Nothing major- good or ill- has caused the world to shift from yesterday.  But TODAY.  Today there is a pressing, an ache that wells from an unknown source.

It comes from a deep place.  From something burried.  A good thing?  A bad thing?  Am I happy?  Am I sad?    It could be hormones, weather or even what I ate last night.  I'm not sure.

I want to cry, but because I cannot identify the origin of the feeling I find it almost impossible to let go.  So I hover emotionally at the edge of myself.  Restless...fluttery...distracted.  Just waiting for something to POP so I have a reason for release.

It is no way to spend a day.

So I've discovered a shortcut.  A little secret that speeds up my detoxification process.

His name is Puff.

He's a magic dragon who lives by the sea.

Seriously.

I have discovered on days where I am full of purposeless tears, a certain song from Peter, Paul and Mary always makes my eyes glisten.

Other songs can work too, but Puff is 100% reliable.  The perfect bittersweet blend that never fails to touch me.  It makes me cry because it is happy.  It makes me cry because it is sad.  It is tailor made for emotional ambiguity.

Vivian has caught onto this little pattern and whenever she hear the opening notes to Puff click on she comes to peek on me and make sure I'm alright.  Or if she's too preoccupied she'll just shout "Don't be sad, mommy!  Be happy!"

At three she has yet to learn that tears are for much more than momentary wounds and disappointments.  They flow often from places that we do not know ourselves.  From the eternity placed in all our hearts.  Our bodies cannot easily contain it.

I believe there will be no more tears in Heaven because there will be no more losses, griefs or sins. But ALSO because our eternal souls will no longer be cramped in temporal bodies, away from home, trapped in time.

Until that day I manage by bringing temporary relief from the temporal.  I cling to whispers of greater truth lurking in the ordinary.

I listen to Puff.

Because I Wore Lace in My Hair

I don’t just listen to public radio (see previous post).  I listen to a lot of Moody Radio as well, especially the program Midday Connection.  Last week they aired a discussion with Dr. Tim Kimmel who wrote the book Grace Based Parenting.  I’ve been meditating on this program nonstop since it aired on April 5^th.  You can listen to it HERE.

I think a lot about parenting because I have A LOT of children in my life.  I LOVED what Dr. Kimmel had to say. It really resonated with me as it spoke so much to the way I want to parent. I really strive not to turn my “kids into little spiritual sock puppets,” as Dr. Kimmel said.   His grace based parenting approach revolves around 4 essential freedoms parents should offer to their children:

Freedom to be Different (weird, bizarre)

Freedom to be Vulnerable

Freedom to be Candid

Freedom to Make Mistakes

His words also resonated with me because  I know from experience that it works.  It worked on me.

My parents made their fair share of parenting blunders.  But when it came to these 4 freedoms, they “got it.”  Their ability to embrace my creativity, cheer on my passions, allow me to question the status quo, encourage me to resist conformity  and experience the realness and rawness of the world now enables me to lead this sort of crazy, risky, different life of ministry we’ve pursued. 

But believe it or not there was a time where my parents actually almost lost hope that I would ever embrace Jesus.  In fact they feared I would hurt myself, even irreparably.  I'll explain...

I was a really weird kid.  My childhood interests were hardly conventional.  i was what you might call "artsy" and I had an obsession with anything tragic.  The best ballets were those in which someone died.  The Phantom of the Opera made my soul swoon.  And when I read Where the Red Fern Grows in third grade I sat over the sink to collect my tears.

Despite all this I wasn’t a melancholy girl.  I was really goofy and talkative.  I loved tragedy because I treasured the beauty found in the ugly.  The power that emerged from pain.  But pain always had to have a point.     

Yet as I matured I didn’t remain my perky, energetic self.  I started questioning the “point” I saw behind all that pain.  As silly childish hurts became deeper adolescent wounds I got depressed.  The world got bigger and the very meaning of life was now obscure and frightening.  How could God account for the brokenness of the world?  What’s more, how could the church account?  It was all an act.  I concluded God was heartless and God’s people were fools.  My sadness quickly soured and I became an angry, proud, depressed, suicidal teenager with an axe to grind with the world and the church.   

Bitterness and a barrier with Christ quickly made me even more bizarre.  I didn’t choose to act out in “conventional” ways.  I considered myself too elevated for that.  (Did I mention I was a little proud?)  Instead of partying I choreographed ballets, sang artistic songs on stage and wore fishnet tights and lace in my hair.  My constant companion was a worn out copy of The Complete Poems of Emily Dickson.   I regularly savored such lines as “Because I could not stop for death” during the duller moments of algebra class.  

Ultimately, I stopped going to church. 

My parents were sad.  They were concerned.  But they never pretended a few Bible verses or Sunday mornings would “cure me.”  They loved me.  They let me ask my questions.  My mom sat up with me until 3 am as I worked through philosophy, theology and my fears.  They bore with me and never tried to sanitize me or sanitize the truth. I think they knew I would never find peace in Christ until I reached utter despair.   

They also eagerly participated in all forms of my ‘therapy.”  They let me buy vintage dresses on ebay.  My dad assisted me in creating an enormous English flower garden in our back yard.  Like troopers, they smiled nervously when I painted the trim on my white bedroom furniture bright pink.  They were the ones who bought the paint!  (I also hung purple velvet curtains on my bed.  For real.)  

Lastly they allowed me to withdraw from my conventional public high school to finish up early at home.    They drove me off to college when I was only 17 years old and three days later when I was in an emotional fit of hysteria, my daddy drove back to pack me up and bring me home.  This return was crucial to my conversion.  His mercy in the face of my impulsive mistake opened a path for God to re-chart my course.

One day I’ll have to tell you all the full story of how God gave me a new heart, but the point of telling you a piece of my story now is this:  I do NOT believe I’d be the bold, idealistic, crusader of justice for Jesus lady I am today if my parents had not been so gracious.  They let me be weird.  They encouraged my creativity.  I was allowed to speak what was on my heart and mind.  They let me dream.  They let me try.   When I failed they encouraged me to learn. 

I think way too many of us are trying to trim off all the odd corners on our children so that they don’t “stick out” in funny places.  We do it to “protect them.”  We don’t want them to fail or be embarrassed or look like losers.  And if we’re really honest we don’t want them to fail or be embarrassed or look like losers because we don’t want to look like failures and losers.  It’s embarrassing. 

Often we just want to protect them from evil.  But we won’t be able to do that forever if we actually let them read the Bible.  How can we teach them how to redeem things…about grace…if we don’t let them see ugliness?   Dr. Kimmel teaches that too many of us rely on the parenting strategy of “sin management.”  Ouch.  So true. But all this produces is “Factory workers” in an assembly line who don’t ask questions or think for themselves. 

I spend too much energy stressing about temporary behavior modification and not enough about what is happening in the heart of my little girl.  What kind of LIFE I want her to have.  What kind of PERSON she will be.  What STORY God will tell through her.   I want Vivian and all my children to really believe that with God ALL things are possible.  To taste and see that the Lord is good.  To know that nothing can separate them from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.  Then boldly go into the world bearing His name.

In my experience people who really KNOW God and LOVE God aren’t very “religious.”  They aren’t afraid of what people think (including church people).  They take risks.  They understand that God is BIG and life is BIG and apart from grace there is not a shred of hope.  They savor that grace and in its safety find the power to live unto obedience in strong, courageous ways.

The heroes we read about in the Bible are not remembered because they fit in.  They are standing in the wilderness eating bugs. Facing twelve fingered giants with a handful of pebbles.  Hiding enemy spies on their roofs.  Marrying  pregnant virgins because they had a dream.  Telling a king to “Let my people go.”

Ridiculous.  Scandalous. Improbable.  Impossible.

They had everything to lose.  And everything to gain.  I want to be more like them...more like Jesus.  And I want my kids to be like that too.

Someone Else Won't Do It

I listen to a lot of public radio.  It's smart.  It's witty.  It's usually civil.  All that yelling on certain unnamed networks STRESSES me out.   They're probably a little biased, but hey, who isn't?

This week our NPR station is doing it's spring fundraiser.  I don't know why, but I never change the station during pledge drives.  Maybe I'm just sympathetic.  I know what it feels like to raise money.

Driving down 280 today I listened as Ira Glass explained that 70% of regular NPR listeners never contribute to their local station.  A recent poll discovered why.  The majority of listeners do not give because they believe that "Someone else will do it."

Wow.  I was actually thinking that exact same thing as I was stopped at a traffic light.  "I enjoy listening to this station, but someone who has more money than us will give."  I often do not give...do not act...because I believe someone else will do it.

This is too bad for organizations like NPR.  It is also too bad for your local church. Your local homeless shelter. Crisis pregnancy centers.  Food banks. Children's hospitals.  And little non-profits working with orphans in Uganda.

Because as much as public radio might "need" your support, I'd argue that these other organizations might need it more.  And that thought that "some else will do it" probably also keeps 70% of us from helping them.  If you're thinking someone else will do it someone else is probably thinking you will do it.  Nothing gets done this way.

Naturally we can't all do everything.  But we can all do SOMETHING.  There are a lot of people in the world.  There are a lot of people in the church.  If we each began to believe that "Someone else WON'T do it," the world might look different.  "The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few."

But I'll tell you a secret.  This is about SO much more than what a cause might need from you.  Imagine it like a giant football game.  So where would you rather be...In the stadium, watching...cheering...booing?   On the sidelines, part of the team, but sitting out most of the time?  Or in the action, with a risk of potentially getting hurt or looking like an idiot, but with the thrill of participation...the opportunity to even score a winning touchdown?

We have one life.  One opportunity to play for His glory.  The Lord will raise up people to accomplish His work.  He will.  Don't you want to be one of those people?  One of the 30% who did something.  Don't you want to be one of those people who when the Lord asks "Whom shall I send and who will go for us?" says "Here am I, send ME!"

It is risky to give.  It is risky to really give of yourself.  To care.  To hope.  To try.  But what you have to gain is SO much sweeter than what you could possibly lose.  "For this light, momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison." 2 Cor 4:17

Thoreau said "Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them."  Sing now.  Sing loudly now so that you may have something to sing about then.

UPDATE: Love Offering

My deep thanks to those who have contributed toward the Kamara Family Love Offering.  I'm so thrilled.  Just a little update.  Gifts to this offering WILL be tax deductible, despite my previous post.  100% of the gift, though, will go to Sarah and Theophilus.  So those planning to send a check may make it out to Pearl Ministries. We will take the checks already made out to me and sign them over to the ministry.  So those who already contributed will get a tax write off for their gift :)  My thanks to those who have responded.  I look forward to blessing my friends thanks to your help!
cate "Mail gifts to:

Pearl Ministries
c/o Jamie Laslo
P.O. Box 610537
Birmingham, AL 35261

OR give online at www.pearlministries.org/give

Make sure to indicate "Kamara Love Offering" with your gift.

A Love Offering

This is on my heart today and I just NEED to do it.  My heart is so weighed down after reading a recent email from one of the dearest men in the world, Dr. Theophilus Kamara, director of Ranch on Jesus Ministries.  Theophilus and Sarah Kamara are our partners in ministry, but they are also close, personal friends.  This type of  friendship is pretty rare, especially between "foreigners,"  and I treasure it as one of the most significant gifts God has ever blessed me with.

I said it here before, but Sarah and Theophilus Kamara take NO compensation for their work at Ranch on Jesus.  Not one dime.  In fact it is the other way around.  Theophilus Kamara is one of Ranch on Jesus' largest donors.  He gives from the profits of his personal business.  Yes, in addition to managing a sizable ministry Theophilus also runs a sizable business.  This, in a sense, is also a ministry.  He employs Ugandan men who are able to support their families from their wages.  Theophilus does a lot for his employees on many levels.  He also disciples a group of men every Wednesday morning.

Although he isn't getting rich from his business.  He is giving a lot away.  Almost too much.  I worry about the Kamara family.  The last two years have been unbearably hard for them.  In the summer of 2009, Theophilus was in a car wreck.  At the end of that year their youngest son, Matthew, was on the brink of death.  Around that time Theophilus had his large excavating machines break down.  (He owns a sand quarry.)  He did not have the money to repair the machines as he used up much of his personal funds on the children. His production slowed.  This probably wasn't the best business move, but how can you come home to dozens of hungry children and do nothing?  Then the family faced some personal betrayal from those they thought were their friends and allies in ministry work.  The rumors spread about Sarah and Theophilus in the village are vicious. Someone else recently took them to court on a frivolous law suit to dispute a land title (issues surrounding land titles are pretty common in Uganda, but it is still a headache.)  Theophilus has high blood pressure.  On top of that they've been dealing with some really difficult children.

It seems they've been attacked from every side.  They are tired and very alone.

In Exodus as the people of Israel are fighting off an attack from Amalek, Moses goes to the top of the hill over the battle to raise up "the staff of God."

Whenever Moses held up his hand, Israel prevailed, and whenever he lowered his hand, Amalek prevailed. But Moses’ hands grew weary, so they took a stone and put it under him, and he sat on it, while Aaron and Hur held up his hands, one on one side, and the other on the other side. So his hands were steady until the going down of the sun. And Joshua overwhelmed Amalek and his people with the sword.  Exodus 17:11-13


As I type this passage I find myself fighting tears.  In my mind I see this righteous man, Theophilus, standing over the battle raging in the villages of Uganda.  He is so faithful, but he is only one man.  The arms of my friend are weary in doing God's work. What I would give just to be that rock for him to sit upon.  I keep wringing my heart out, wondering what I can do to uphold him.

On April 19th Scott is flying to Uganda.  I want to put an envelope in his suitcase full of love for the Kamaras, a special offering that coveys our appreciation for the work they are doing in God's Kingdom.  

This won't be an official ministry gift, not tax deductible.  (UPDATE:  After talking some with Scott he tells me it is A-OK to run this love offering through the non-profit.  100% of what is collected will go straight to the Kamaras.  If you've already sent a check directly to me we plan to sign it over to the ministry.  You WILL get a tax deductible receipt!)   ANY amount is welcome.  ANY amount.  $5, $50 or $500!  No gift is too small or too large.  It all adds up!

2009:  Scott with Mark Kamara (these two like each other WAY too much..  It's always been that way!) and Theophilus with our Vivian.  She's quite partial to him.  Like the pink shirt?  Scott picked it out.  

I am sure some extra funds would help Sarah and Theophilus pay for Martha (10) and Mark's (7) school fees. (Did I mention they went to school late last month because Theophilus used their fees to feed the orphans?)  Funds would help fuel the car, put some minutes on their phone and buy a bit of bread.  But knowing the Kamaras they'll just give it to Ranch on Jesus. That's what they usually do.

But it really isn't even about the money.  The Kamaras NEED to know people care about them.  They NEED to know they are not alone.  Theophilus' recent emails just make me want to cry...or drive to the airport and hop on the first plane to Africa.  He rarely complains, but I hear the hurt seeping through each line he types.  I just want to give him a hug and take away his pain.

    

Martha and Vivian in 2009  and Sarah Kamara.

I know none of you (at least not most of you) have ever met this remarkable family, but they are the very heart and soul of Ranch.  When they are hurting, Ranch is hurting.  The children are hurting.  I do not have the means to help them alone.  I need your help.

You may send a gift for the Kamara Love Offering to:

Pearl Ministries
c/o Jamie Laslo
P.O. Box 610537
Birmingham, AL 35261
OR give online at www.pearlministries.org/give
Make sure to note that your gift is meant for the "Kamara Love Offering"

I'll need to have gifts NO later than April 18th. Email me at jamie@pearlministries.org with any questions.

And if you would like to send a personal card or note of encouragement to Sarah and Theophilus you can do so as well.  I KNOW they would be warmed and uplifted to know there are fellow believers out there lifting them up in prayer!