For My Grandmother

My College Graduation. One of my biggest supporters!

I’m Jill, Jean’s granddaughter. From the time I was a little girl I would write my Grandma poems and stories; she always loved it. As an adult, she often encouraged me to write a children’s book, which I have yet to do. If that ever occurs rest assured the dedication in the front cover will read “For my precious Grandma who always believed in me and encouraged me to write”. For the time being, I thought she would like it if I wrote something for her. I have written her a letter that I would like to share with you. Though no words could adequately sum up her life, I hope to express a little bit of what she means to me.

Grandma,

You went to be with the Lord on Christmas Eve Day. It only seems fitting that someone so special would also go home on such a special day.

Each of us has our own memories of you, but a constant thread runs through them all. Your love, your radiance, your faith, your strength, your style and grace, your spunk permeates all the stories we hold dear. To know you was to love you. Everyone who knew you would agree that when Jeanie walked into a room it was instantly a little bit brighter. In the words of a friend who recently learned of your passing, “You are simply a delight.”

You have loved me and been a constant in my life for thirty-one years. It would be impossible to relay all the memories and moments we’ve made together, however I would like to share a few of my favorite stories. Not too long ago I came up to Idaho Falls to visit you and Richard. You both took me to lunch at Dixie's Diner and then Richard left us to the mall, as was our usual routine. After several stores, lots of gab and hours of shopping, I was worn out. I thought for sure you would be ready to go home. Instead, you suggested we stop for a quick pick me up at Starbucks and then resume our shopping. I really think the phrase “shop ‘til you drop” was modeled after you!

It wasn’t very often I saw you without your jewelry, lipstick and painted nails. You have always been an elegant, classy woman, a lady through and through. So much so you would occasionally comment on your grandchildren’s lack of refinement. I remember a specific incident of this. We were celebrating your 75^th birthday at a cabin near Glacier National Park that the entire family rented together. We spent the days playing in the lake, soaking in the hot tub, eating, laughing and playing cards. In your honor, we even put on a skit and sang you songs, including what we dubbed as your theme song: “Here Comes the Queen”. One morning, however, all us grandkids were enjoying a lazy day, lounging around in our pajamas until after 1 pm. You were appalled that anyone would possibly stay in their p.j.s until that hour of the day and you were certainly not shy about letting us know how you felt (as was usually the case). We just smiled at you and carried on as you shook your head in friendly disapproval.

Grandma, you were not one to sit by and watch life. You were an active participant in all it’s going ons! I have an image of you in my head, dancing your heart out at your grandson David’s wedding in Spokane. Though many chose to sit that dance out, there you were, cutting a rug with Harry (David’s Grandpa) at 70 years of age. What a sight you were! And this was not just a one-time event; this was how you consistently chose to live your life. If you need further proof of this let me remind that you found love again and were married to a wonderful man at the mature age of 77. You were always seeking new adventures.

I could go on Grandma, but I’m sure you have much better things to do now that you are in heaven. Let me conclude by saying that your life has deeply impacted who I am. If this is true of me, know that is also true of all others who have been blessed enough to know you, and especially those of us who are privileged to call you family. My life is fraught with memories of sleepovers at your home as a child, playing Yahtzee and cards for hours, arguing over the rules of Rummikub at Thanksgiving and Christmas time, listening to you tell stories of when I was just a little girl or “Chatterbox” (as you called me), shopping trips, lunch dates, phone calls, seeing your beaming face at any and every special event of my life, listening to stories of your youth, birthday cards, holidays spent together, and just simply knowing you were always there for me, always loving me. And these are only my memories; you will live on in these remembrances of mine and in those of the rest of us who loved you. To say that we are thankful and blessed that God gave us the gift of you for all these years is an understatement. On Christmas Eve day this World lost a special gift, but a heavenly World gained a precious new saint.  I cannot wait until I see you again.

All my love,

Jill

Jean and her 3 kids

 

My sister and I with Grandma

Crying Grandkids! (That's me on the right).

Grandma and her sister Shirley

Loving life!

Grandma and her new husband, Richard. They loved one another so much.

When Grandma won "Mrs. Lincoln Court" at her Assisted Living Home.

4 Generations

Fountain of Hope

Bukeeka is a Muslim village and home to Fountain of Hope Christian School. The school began with a rocky start; it had only a handful of students and was under intense opposition from Witch Doctors and Muslim occupants of the village. The headmaster, Robert, was chased from the village by men with machetes; a price was put on his head; one morning he arrived at the school property to find his school surrounded in a trail of chicken blood (evidence of ritualistic ceremonies performed at the school); coffins were placed in homes of his friends to signify and prophesy death. This may sound crazy, but after having sat with this man and been in his house and school, I assure you, it is very real. This kind of stuff is normal in Africa. So convinced by God he was to establish this fountain of hope in the midst of darkness, he persevered. Since 2006 the school has grown from a dozen to students to 700. Now, the Muslims and Witch Doctors actually advocate for the school, realizing it may be the only hope their children have of ever receiving an education; they even encourage Robert to run for Parliament. Wow; the power of God is also very real.

Robert and Sara; founders of Fountain of Hope

School Grounds

Trying out their new whiteboards

Over the last couple of weeks my team and I have had the privilege of teaching at this blessed school. When you pull up to the school the first thing you see is a sign stating “Educate the girl child, educate a nation.” This is a powerful statement in a land that often oppresses and persecutes women. As you walk the grounds of the school you encounter more such signs posted. “Virginity is healthy” “Say no to bad touches” “You are important” “Never walk alone” “Trust God in all” “Respect your leaders” “Shout for help in case of sexual abuse” “Fight human sacrifice” "Always speak English" "Serve as an example". The motto of the school, which when asked all the students of the school can recite, is “Righteousness exalts a nation.” These may seem like basic principles, but here these things are not commonly taught and with the declaration of these values comes great power.


Even though the classrooms are smaller than an average American classroom, the class sizes range from 45 to 100 students! Despite the large amount of students packed into a small space, there are virtually no management issues; the kids are so excited to have an education and it’s obvious by the amount of respect they give to their teachers. One day we gave a Bible lesson related to fear and God’s protection and asked the students what they feared. The top responses were “murder, rape, sacrifice, being robbed”. The reality of the life they live in is very sad; but in the midst of their struggle God has placed them in a safe place where they are taught, discipled and given an opportunity to fulfill the destiny God has for them. Teaching at this school has been an absolute dream come true for me. Thank you Jesus; You are so good.

Students at Bukeeka

Joyce

Meet Joyce!

This is the nine year old little girl I am blessed to sponsor. She lives in a house the size of my bedroom with her mother and father and eleven brothers and sisters. Not too long ago her mother left her father and took seven of the children to work in a stone quarry. When Joyce’s father learned of the situation, he found his children, rescued them from the quarry and brought them home to raise by himself. It is very rare for a father in Uganda to take on the responsibility of raising his children, let alone twelve children! But this man is different. Recently Joyce’s mother returned to the family and is currently still living with them. Joyce doesn't smile very often; under the circumstances I can understand why. But every now and then you see her joy and it is as the clouds revealing the sun. I experienced this yesterday when I pulled up in van and parked across from Joyce's house. Her eyes caught mine through the van window and instantly her face lit up; I had to hold back the tears. This beautiful little girl is stealing my heart.

The home Joyce and her 11 brothers and sisters live in

I was able to meet Joyce's entire family last week and share some pictures of my family with them. Just as we were leaving the neighborhood, Joyce’s sister ran up and placed two photographs in my hand. They were old and worn and had the negatives attached to the back. One was of the family and the other was of a much younger Joyce. I wondered, “Where in the World did this family get these photographs? They do not have cameras and they definitely don’t have means to develop pictures.” I can only assume the pictures were of great worth to the family and yet they gave them to me. How humbling. I wanted to decline, but I understood they were trying to honor me so I gratefully accepted the gift.

Sharing a peanut butter sandwich

I am so happy Joyce has the opportunity to attend school; the village she lives in is known as a prostitute village. Without an education she would most likely succumb to the same fate as the rest of her community. Two of her other siblings also attend school; we are praying for sponsors for the other nine children and I continue to pray that Joyce will walk in the vision and plan God has laid out for her.

Manicure time!

Lesson on the Nile

Yesterday we rafted the Nile River. As spectacular as it was to experience the vast beauty and power of the Nile, something stronger sticks in my mind. As we were beginning the trip our rafting guide, a Ugandan named De-Marco, noticed I had sunglasses on. He encouraged me to leave them behind as I would be likely to lose them on the river. I assured him they were “cheap” and I didn’t mind losing them to the rapids. He slowly responded, “You should not say such things; that you don’t care if you lose your sunglasses”. He paused before asking, “You said they were cheap? How much did they cost you?” I shrugged and said, “Oh, probably about ten dollars.” His response left me humbled and ashamed. He simply said, “I make twenty dollars a day”. (Twenty dollars a day is actually quite high for the average African.)

It was powerful. I’m not sure if reading about it portrays the significance of the moment, but something was deposited in my heart. In America we have such an abundance that we take much of our “stuff” for granted. Here, they have so little that anything, small or large, is treasured. I’m sure many of us “Westerners” are aware of this, but how often do we let it change the way we live; the way we give? I do not think we should despise the blessings God has given us; but we should value them and use them in a way that blesses God and others.

Thank you De-Marco, for the unforgettable life lesson.

The Nile River

Children's Hospital and AIDS Clinic

Immanuel, a 14 year old AIDS patient, and me

On Tuesday the team and I visited a health clinic with a long term AIDS home attached to it. We passed out stickers and held the hands of children who are losing the battle to AIDS and most likely will not be alive in 6 months. It’s difficult to know how to process that. The administrator of the home is an extraordinary young Swiss man, not much older than me. He has made Uganda his home and loves his young victims of AIDS, but he has no knowledge of God. This makes me sad; he is offering something of amazing value to the Ugandan people, but what of eternal value will last?

Next we visited a Children’s Hospital; people poured out of the waiting room, spilling onto the lawn. Dozens of families camped out waiting to be seen; who knows how long they had been there? The condition of the hospital was unreal; in the ER our team was given the opportunity to pray for the patients. I was able to lay hands on a small girl with malaria and pray for her healing and salvation. Something inside of me opened and I couldn’t hold back the tears. Here prayer is always welcomed; the mother was thrilled to have me pray for her little girl. I can’t really imagine stepping into an ER in the States and being invited, even welcomed, by both the parents and the doctor to lay hands on a sick, young girl.

Children at the AIDS home

AIDS home

The Congolese Boys (Dove Voice Band)

Dove Voice Band

The last few days have been overwhelming, but in a very good way. Have you ever experienced something and known you will never be the same? I will try to describe some of what the last few days have held, though I don’t think I could ever adequately put words to all I have seen.

On Monday night our team was blessed with a singing group of 16 boys, ages 13-18, from the Congo. Many of these boys are orphans or refugees and each one of them have amazing testimonies of how God has saved them from addiction, homelessness, hunger, depression, ect. In the words of Robert, a local believer here, “Often those who have a passionate love for Jesus have experienced a great healing from Jesus”. We shared a meal with the group and then enjoyed a performance of singing and dancing. When you look in these boys eyes, see their smiles and watch how they sing to their Maker, their passion and love for Jesus is impossible to miss. By the end of the evening the Congo boys had all of us muzungos (white people) singing and dancing (further proof that white men can’t dance ;). We danced and sang in the front yard of the compound well into the evening hours. Eventually the lawn was flooded with neighbors and children, wanting to participate in all the commotion. It was a blast! We drowned out the Islamic “call to prayer” with our praise songs to Jesus. Before going home, the leader of the group mentioned he had not had coffee in over two years. That did it… We invited the group to an American cooked breakfast, complete with pancakes and syrup, eggs and coffee. When the boys came the next morning we blessed them with a soccer ball, frisbees (which they had never seen before) and one of our team T-shirts for each of them. I have never seen a single person so blessed by the gift of a new T-shirt. The boys kept the tags on the shirts as proof that they were brand new. They handled them as though they were glass and pressed their noses to them to inhale the “new t-shirt” smell. Before the boys left they gathered around us and sang a song in their own language, acapella. I remember thinking “This is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard”. Angels surely were rejoicing with us as the presence of God distinctly filled the room. I will never forget these boys and I think they would say the same of us. I was shocked at how much hope our team brought to this group by not really doing anything, but just by being there, by letting them know they are not forgotten.

That was Monday night. (The pictures at the top are of the boys. I have better pics, but the internet is being weird!) More stories to follow from the rest of the week… Thank you for your prayers. Tomorrow we are doing an outreach for the mothers of the students at Rock of Ages; most of them are prostitutes, please pray the love of Jesus will be poured out on them in a supernatural way. Be blessed!

Congolese boys enjoying pancakes and coffee in their new T-shirts

Gathering for breakfast

After 50 some hours of travel my team and I have finally arrived in Africa; weary and dirty, but thrilled to be here none the less! Our journey began in Salt Lake City where we caught a plane to Chicago. Upon arriving in Chicago we learned Obama was also flying into the city around the same time and we might have to circle the runway several times to avoid landing at the same time as his. Thankfully the President’s plan did not interfere with ours, and we were able to land without event. =) After a quick layover in Chicago (which resulted in an unnamed team member losing a wallet; and no it wasn’t me!) we flew out for London. Other than the jet lag, our 8 hours in London was fantastic. We had a bit of a whirlwind tour of the city that included a meal of fish n’ chips and a stroll around the city while drinking tea in the rain. We then made the 8 hour flight to Entebbe, Uganda. As soon as we stepped off the plane, I was hit with a wave of humidity. Yay, this means my skin will be super moisturized and it will be easy to do my hair curly! =) This country is beautiful; full of lush green vegetation creating a stark contrast against the red dirt. The children and people are beautiful as well. Upon arriving, the 13 of us squished into an old van and drove about two hours to attend a church service. Church started at 9 and ended at 1:30; these Africans know how to do church!! Other than the service our agenda for the day includes showering and getting settled in to our new home. We will have dinner and “orientation” soon; followed by a time of sharing from two of the Next Generation staff members. Each evening we will be meeting with different local staff members to hear their stories and break bread together. So, thank you Jesus for getting us here safely!! Thank you for the adventure ahead. And thank all of YOU for your prayers! Pictures and more to follow…

P.S. Blogging quickly like this without really going over and refining what I’m writing drives me crazy, but I’d rather get some words out then worry about writing style, so bear with me here!