Behind Every Success Is A Story Of Struggle

Up until this point we've shared a lot of happy endings (or maybe beginnings).  I think we do this to lighten the emotional load a little.  And honestly, while we are here, most everything is positive.  The kids are happy to see us and we bring a little fun to the mundane daily routine.  But, reality still exists.  Nearly everyday I carry a little more pain around with me in my heart.  Whether it be watching a child repeatedly run around barefoot because their shoes are torn, having a child lay their head in my lap because they are so faint from sickness (mostly malaria), or having the same child come to our house every morning for food and to tell me that everyday when she goes home to greet her dad he beats her with a stick.  This is the reality.  It's all fun and games until you ask the kids what happens when they go home.  They get real quiet and look down at the ground.  They give only answers to your questions with no further detail.  It is painful for them to recount their life.  They are scared and ashamed for us to know what they really have to endure.

The 7 year old boy, Lawrence, in this photo carries the burdens of someone 10 times his age.   A good friend of mine is his sponsor and Steve and I visited him at his school last year.  He lives in the outskirts of a village about 45 minutes away from Mukono.  When he came to Victor's to get his photo taken he instantly recognized me and came up and knelt at my feet (which is what all the kids do as a sign of respect) and I pulled him up and hugged him close.  He had the biggest grin!  Come to find out, the man who brought him (and two others) is a Pastor from their village and he has taken it upon himself to see that these kids are cared for.  The issue is that Lawrence's dad is dead so he only has a mom to care for him and his younger brother.  It turns out that the mom is refusing to care for him and on repeated occasions has not given him medicine sent to him when he is sick.  She is given food (not money, but food) to feed him and his brother and she is not giving it to him.  The social workers have visited his home on two different occasions and found Lawrence, alone, and caring for his younger brother.  He then tells the social workers that he hasn't seen his mom for days.  This is his reality.  

I had to excuse myself from the office so I could cry.  I looked at this little boy on my way up to our apartment and I said to him, "I am so sorry" in English.  He looked up at me and smiled, a gesture that broke my heart even more.

The stories of struggle come in every day and I continue to do the best I can to encourage these kids.  But it is hard.  Every night the kids have something called evening glory, which is a time where they sing and dance and pray.  It is amazing.  Every night they fall to their knees with hands lifted high and voice their thankfulness to God.  I wish you all could hear this.  It brings me to tears every night.  And while they are praying in Luganda, I pray along with them and all I can say is, "God hear their cries, hear their cries, hear their cries".

From Uganda with love,

Ali