Snowmen and Angels

Don't ask me how, but I've forgotten the magic of snowfall.  Today, I've been reminded.  Standing in the front yard of my in-laws place taking a break from the kitchen duties, the scampering of children, and the endless shreds of wrapping paper to marvel at the brilliance of freshly falling snow.  In all honesty, I don't think anyone can look up into the sky on a chilly winter night, feel the gentle kisses of snowflakes on their lips and deny that what is happening in that moment is anything less than inspiring.  Something to enliven the spirit and recapture that feeling of wonder.  Tonight was just that, a chance to breathe in the essence of a moment bigger and more "wonder"-ful than I had remembered it could be.

I was interrupted by my daughter who, first, threw a snowball at me, then grabbed me by the gloved hand and pulled me to the sidewalk where she looked at me as if she had just had the most ingenious idea ever.  She lay down in the snow on her back, stretched her arms and legs out to her sides and moved them up and down.  I pulled her up by her hands.  She kept her feet in the same place so as not to disrupt the design she had just made, as if she had done this a million times before.   (Reminder to some, this is Maggie's first experience of snow).  She turned around and looked at her imprint in the snow.  Her eyes lit up like I have never seen them as she gazed at the perfect image of an angel.  She looked at me.  I looked at her.  I said, "It's beautiful.  You made an angel.  How did you know how to do that?".  She looked back at the angel and back at me, with a look that was equal parts whimsy and awe.  "I have no idea," she whispered.

Merry Christmas.  May you always be filled with the magic of snowfall.

From Reno with Love,
Ali

Birthday Cake

I was at the gym a few days ago, feeling lazy and unmotivated.  Many of you might ask why I was at the gym in such a condition, but my lack of motivation is why I needed to be there in the first place.  Enough said.  This isn't intended to be a post about weight or  working out, it is a post about CAKE.  I had 20 minutes to kill before my group exercise class and was in no mood to actually work up a sweat on a treadmill or bike.  Remember my earlier comment about motivation?!  I noticed the empty basketball courts and thought I would casually shoot a few hoops before the class.  I hid myself in the south gym where there are no windows.  Perfect strategy for a middle school basketball super star who doesn't want to be haggled by her crazed fans.

That 20 minutes of shooting and dribbling and passing at the wall was more of a work out than I was looking for, but I was reminded of something that made me literally fall on my back on the court and laugh out loud.  I recently celebrated a birthday.  I ate leftover chocolate cupcakes that I had baked for our Thanksgiving dessert.  On my 14th birthday, however, I ate chocolate cake frosted in orange, shaped as a basketball and decorated with the words "Happy Birthday, Shooter."  If, in the 8th grade, I really did live up to that moniker, I have certainly lost all shooting skills over the course of the last 19 years.  In the gym the other day, I didn't make a single shot outside the 3 point line.  I didn't even make a single shot from the free throw line.  I didn't even make a single shot without the help of that white square printed on the backboard.

That is precisely why I threw myself in a heap on that glossy wood floor.  As I lay there panting and sweating and laughing, I couldn't help but be thankful for my dad.  He always took me out on our backyard concrete pad and spent time shooting hoops with me.  Giving me pointers and playing games with me.  Maybe my height is the issue.   I've been 5'3" since junior high.   To this day, he says he's still waiting for that growth spurt he KNEW I was gonna have.

I suppose all that practice didn't pay off on the court, but it payed off in my heart.  The embarrassment of blowing the candles out atop a basketball shaped cake while my teammates and friends stood around me laughing silently has diminished completely.  What is left is an amazing memory of a family who encouraged me in everything I tried.

Moral of the story: take some time to laugh at your own inabilities and give credit to those who stood by your side regardless.

From the Mission Valley YMCA with love and laughter and a little bit of sweat,
Ali
 

Maggie's One-Liners

My daughter (yes, that title rolls off my lips with a smile) has an amazing way with words.  At first I thought it might be the collision of Ugandan English and American English that was causing vocabulary mix-ups and interesting word choices.  Sometimes that is true, but I've caught on to what is a misspoken sentence and what is intentionally intriguing.

What many of you may not know, is that I have spent a good chunk of my education in creative writing classes and poetry workshops.  Although the poet in me has somehow been hidden by a repainting of sorts, she chisels away at that paint incessantly.  Now, maybe some of the reason she resides beneath that exterior is because she hates the smell of criticism.  Critique smells salty and refreshing, like the sea just hours before a storm.  Criticism, however, is the stale afternoon when the storm has passed.  It wreaks of dead fish and decaying plant life.  It washes up all this junk on the sand that nobody even knew existed and clutters the beauty of what one came to see.  There is a flip side, I suppose.  The sea is an endless treasure chest.  Sometimes it takes the storm to loosen the treasure.

So, my daughter may have a gift with words and I sure hope that gift never gets sanded and repainted...and it never gets waved off by a bad smell.  Tomorrow, I will buy her a notebook to write down her beautiful words.  The most recent, and perhaps my favorite so far, happened on Friday as we were riding the Coronado Ferry back to Seaport Village.  Our family was in the bow of the boat alone.  Steve sitting on a bench with Perez on his lap and Maggie on my lap sitting next to them.  It was windy.  Maggie looks at the very tip of the bow where a flagpole held a large black flag with the name of the boat printed on it.

"Look, Dad.  The flag is dancing for us."


From America with love and imagery,
Ali

Free Museum Tuesdays

The kids are finishing up a week's worth of the "no school, sleep in (which only happens for ONE person in the family, lucky you, Perez), play legos and do fun activities that mom and dad plan" type of routine.  On Tuesday, a friend invited us to join herself and her two kids for Free Museum Tuesday in Balboa Park.  (and...thank you so much, Jenny for the invite...please don't take any offense for the rest of this post...you and your family are much loved by us).  If you're not from around here, sorry, you don't know what I'm talking about AND you don't get in for free!  Every Tuesday in Balboa Park, San Diego County residents get to museum hop certain museums for free.  It is a great time to look at art and spend time in some green space.  Perfect Tuesday afternoon activity, in my opinion.  It turns out, that particular Tuesday my children were completely wired.  They are normally wild, but this was over the top.  I couldn't get them to calm down with threats OR bribery.  So, of course, the first museum we go to is the Japanese Friendship Garden.  If any of you are from around here or know anything about Japanese gardens, for that matter, you realize that hyper children and peaceful zen like surroundings do not mix well.  I gave them a quick pep talk to minimize the disruptiveness, but to no avail.  They blew through the gate full steam ahead, playing tag on the narrow walkway, trampling over carefully placed moss and small greenery and petting the koi.  Yes, I said, petting.  We all know koi are expensive fish and we also know that expensive fishes scales and childrens' hands should not ever meet.  Again, if you are from around here, you may also know that due to a late night flash mob water gun fight, Balboa Park has already suffered the loss of many of these beautiful fish.  I didn't want to be responsible for another one.  After another pep talk, we entered an indoor area with beautiful kimonos (thankfully behind glass) and a rickshaw, unfortunately NOT behind glass.  It seems that signs reading "Please Do Not Touch" do not scare off hyper, disobedient children when they are obviously in the mood to touch.  After, yet again, another pep talk, we entered one of those areas where people can sit indoors on benches and watch, through floor to ceiling glass windows, as people move gravel around with rakes.  The benches are carefully placed about 5 feet from the windows so every one can watch in peace.  My kids walked directly up to the windows, completely missing the benches all together, and proceeded to wipe their sweaty hands up and down the windows being sure not to miss any areas.  They were even thoughtful enough to leave kiss marks on the glass for the next watchful participant.  This may have been the last straw, but you don't know my kids well enough.  On the way out, one of them somehow managed to dislodge the leather strap binding on a carefully placed bamboo water trough fountain, knocking it just enough so that the narrow trickle of water no longer fell gracefully into the gravel bed below, but onto the rock ledge nearby, creating another, but entirely unwanted, waterfall.

You think I'm exaggerating for the sake of the blog.  I'm not.  We left at this point.  Feel free to comment on my parenting and how I should have left sooner or spoken more sternly or what have you. The truth is, all you parents know that sometimes your kids get the best of you.  Sometimes, they are completely in control and you are completely out of control trying to get control.

The next museum...(drum roll please)?  The San Diego museum of Art.  One of the most traditional museums in the park.  Constructed with ornate architecture and filled with age old paintings of people and landscapes of times past.  The type of museum that requires you to check your cameras so that you can't photograph anything within the walls.  You know what's coming right?  You got it!  My children were angels!  If you call laughing uncontrollably at the strangely shaped breasts of a young maiden in oil, or attempting to pick the thick paint off an ornate rendering of a lively river landscape angelic.  Seriously.  It was bad.  It had good moments, but definitely ended badly.  I lost Perez, but, of course, HE wasn't lost, he was "looking at art".  I found him, then lost him again.  Jenny and her family patiently waited downstairs while I did a quick loop of the upstairs only to have Maggie march down stairs, scowling, and completely ignoring my fervent requests for her to stick with me so I didn't loose both of them.  We left at that point.  After a very stern discussion and a few minutes glued to my side, Jenny and I decided, for the sake of my children, not hers, that maybe an area for the kids to play around outside would be best.  My kids took off running.  A few minutes later I found them standing next to a lady and a sign.  The lady was placing a bird on Maggie's head and the sign read "Warning: children left unattended will be sold to the circus."  Go figure.  Sometimes I think that might actually be a better place for them!

From Balboa Park with frenzied love,
Ali

The Greatest Joy

Yes, we have just passed the three month mark and, yes, my last post was at the one month mark...go figure.  It is definitely time for a long winded update, but tonight is not the night.  Tonight is the night where I leave you with the mental snapshot of why we are even able to make it to the next day.

I think, perhaps, one of the greatest joys of parenting is when you get to see your kids just BE kids.  When they usher you into their world of play and you indulge that world as if it is the only reality you or they have ever known.  In the midst of rearranged furniture and edges of rolled back carpets, I played the part of the audience, complete with steak knife perforated ticket stub, in ice arena stadium seat 101.  The lights dimmed, the crowd hushed, the living room curtains parted and the show began.  For the next 45 minutes (yes, 45 minutes and, yes, I could've been doing something more productive and, yes, I would do it again every night until my children grow up and move out) I watched my children slide around in knee length socks on the hardwood floor, doing the most clumsy rendition of ice skating I have ever seen.  Perez, in Maggie's light pink and magenta striped pajama bottoms (which, I must say, scarily resembled the look of the tights the male dancers wear in The Nutcracker), took this show MUCH more seriously than the season's soccer tournament he played in this past Saturday.  Maggie, although a fantastic dancer when not on "ice", took to a lot of jumping and odd looking hand motions due to the fact that her socks weren't slippery enough.  I belly laughed (but was told to keep silent to respect the skaters performance) as Akon sang "Nobody wants to see us together" and Fergie belted out "Let's get it started in here" as my children pranced and slipped around with a different beat in mind all together.  I'm still laughing nearly 4 hours after the finale.  I'll probably wake up laughing.

That is what keeps me moving.  Moments grab me and drag me, laughing and often crying, until I'm passed off to the next moment, that has an even stronger grip and more powerful tug.  This is the way we roll.

Now stand up and do a silly dance or something.  Try the sliding-in-the-socks-on-the-wood-floor thing.  It will seriously make you laugh even if you are in the worst mood of your life.  That is what we need right?

From America with love and a heck of a lot of laughter,
Ali  

One Month Already?

Don't ask me anything about time.  I have no idea how my last post from day 2 of Maggie's life in America turned to the conclusion of day 30 so quickly...as if we were in a time warp or some sort of  machine that speeds us into the future without giving us a chance to see what's passing us by so quickly.  Like I said, don't ask me anything about time.  Especially, again, because I'm writing this post way past my bed time.  And, yes, even though I am nearing the age of 33, I do have a self imposed bed time and it was nearly 2 hours ago.

Our family, at this stage, is similar to the freakiest roller coaster you've ever been on.  You feel pumped up and excited on the first uphill push with adrenaline soaring through you, you reach the plateau for an ever so slight chance to breathe and take in how beautiful the view is, when, like you never expected it, you're reminded that an uphill also means an excruciatingly terrifying downhill ahead of you.  You turn around for a split second thinking you might be able to yell down to the operator to convince him to put it in reverse, only to see the carts behind you full of people who are, wether you like it or not, connected to you and in no mood to have their adventure ruined.  You turn around knowing that there is no way out of this thing and that you better just suck it up and scream your brains out like everyone else.

Of course, roller coasters always have the same route, the same track underneath that doesn't change course.  Ours doesn't.  But I do suppose, like most rides, there is that same guy in the back with an understated calmness.  He smiles and allows the rushing wind of the descent to chisel his features ever so slightly and he closes his eyes in delight like he's done this a million times and has nothing to fear.

Maybe that guy ends up on every family's ride somehow.  Maybe I should keep looking for his picture flashed up on the screen at the exit of the ride.  Maybe I should learn from him how to stay calm in the midst of chaos.

From America with love,
Ali

  

Day 2

She's home, and yes, I realize I haven't even tried to post anything yet.  There will be pictures to come of some "first's" in America, but for now just words.  We've been settling, as much as you can settle with two energetic and lively Ugandan children running around a 1,000 square foot condo.  Of course, we've already visited the beach and already overcome Maggie's first verbalized fear.  She looked right at the waves and said, "Don't take me there.  I fear."  After some nice gentle pulls on the hand and a little nudge to put her feet in the water, her face changed from fear to pure joy.  A little ocean will do a lot of good for a fearful little girl, even if it means you are just putting your feet in.  As I mentioned in a much earlier post, "I come to the sea to breathe."  Maybe Maggie comes here to breathe, too.

I know many people have opinions about how much to expose their adopted children to in the first weeks, months and years, but it is quite possible that those opinions are just that, opinions.  In a full two days, Maggie has already done some grocery shopping at a huge supermarket, looked for some clothes at the mall, went to the beach, scootered at a local park, helped her family move out of their church building, peeled carrots and chopped veggies, met a ton of people, stayed at home by herself (ok, with her brother!), watched some movies, read some books, petted a bunch of dogs and changed clothes about 8 times.  She has been busy and overwhelmed and tired and yet, she has also been managing things very well.

We are all doing the best we can to roll with everything.  So, all I can say after day two is that we are floating along in the river God has placed us in and we are still keeping our heads above water.  But like I said, it is only day 2!  

En Route

So, my family is officially en route.  Not sure where in that maze of atmosphere they are right about now, but I know they are getting closer with every minute.  All things considered, I am surprisingly calm.  There are many things rattling around in my spirit.  It's not the rattling that makes me unbalanced, but the bumping into each other that usually causes the uprisings.  So, for now, things are moving, but not bumping, and I am at peace.

Had an amazing and very honest talk with Perez last night while we shared my bed.  God has gifted this boy with an ability to understand the deeper things of life at an early age.  We were sharing our feelings about the last night of him being an only child.  He said he felt terrible.  He said he didn't want to be a "double child", meaning to have a sibling.  He said he didn't want to share us, his mom and dad, with anyone and that he doesn't want to have to share his toothpaste either.  And that he didn't know what to do when he felt this way.  I hinted at the fact that sometimes when we are in this position of uncertainty there is nothing WE can do.  But someone can.  That someone is an almighty God who is orchestrating this thing in the first place.  You gotta take it up with him!

We talked about how amazing Perez's story is and that because of his part in that story he will have a deeper and richer character, a better understanding of love, and a spirit that shines even in the challenging times.  He looked at me and said, "Mom, I'm gonna have a lot more gray hairs after this!"  I cracked up.  We both rolled around laughing for a few minutes, which was a good relief from the tension of the earlier conversation.  The thing is, he does already have three gray hairs!  We joke about them often.  But, the other thing is, he wasn't hinting at the fact that this adoption and his subsequent life change were going to make him feel older, but that he is going to come out of it much wiser.  He got it.  Not just in his head, or on his head, but in his heart.  And as I prayed, he squeezed my hand and drifted off before I even said, "Amen".

The family dynamic is changing, but the heart continues to love with the same passion it had in the beginning.

From San Diego and the airspace above Europe with love,
Ali  

One Week

One week.  7 days.  A standard measurement of time that takes up the same amount of space on everyone's calendar.  The experience of this time, however, can change drastically depending on what is currently happening in one's life.  For the Denney family, those 7 days are the only thing remaining between a family of 3 and a family of 4.  Steve AND Maggie come home on August 4th, exactly a week from today.

I'm not even going to take the time right now to muse about the process of this adoption and all the emotions etc. that have been entangled in it (better saved for a time that I am not loathing to slip out of this chair and into my bed...which, by the way, is currently being occupied by a 10 year old boy who has been laying in his bed wide awake for the last hour and a half only to come into my room promising that he will fall asleep if he can share my bed...at 11:45 I couldn't care less ).  What I will say is that, as much as I have been blowing off and smoothing over comments like "Are you excited?" or "Are you running like mad to get things ready?" with an air of major motherly competency and coolness, the reality is sneaking up on me.  

This is huge for everyone.  Each family member has different emotions, insecurities, fears.  Feelings about coming, feelings about going, feelings about what is being lost or what is being gained.  Fitting in to roles that are expected or roles that are imagined.  Really, when it comes down to it, we are all a mess...a beautiful mess...a perfect composition in the art of "adding-a-member-to-your-family" mess. 

That being said,  we can't wait for you all to meet her!

From San Diego with longing and Uganda with love,

Ali

Hoot and holler everyone...she's coming home!

Short and sweet...Maggie has been approved for her visa!  Steve is in Uganda on other business but also working out the last few logistics.  The embassy still needs to issue the visa, then all is complete.  I can say with (almost 100%) confidence that our daughter will be coming home with her dad on Aug. 4th.

Sula Bulungi (Goodnight)
Mukama Yebazibwe (Praise the Lord)
From San Diego...and Uganda...with overflowing love,
Ali

The paperwork has been sent

On Tuesday, exactly two months after we received our Request for Evidence from USCIS, we sent our paperwork back to be reviewed for a final decision on Maggie's Visa.  I never anticipated it would take that long.  We had plans to send it earlier, but that just didn't happen.  Everything was complete weeks ago, we were just waiting for two documents.  I told myself everything would happen in a timely manner, but recently found myself exhibiting the same antsy-ness as my 10 year old stuck at home on summer break with no one but his mom to play with!  (Yes, 10 year old.  Can you believe it?  He turned 10 on June 1st.  Time flies!)  I was getting anxious, knowing that our hopeful timeline of Maggie coming back with Steve on July 31st was getting less and less hopeful as the days passed.  I realize that I am not a nice person when I am anxious.  I suppose I can't really say that I am an overly nice person anyway.  I've always secretly envied the "nice-ness" in others when I just can't seem to get rid of my stubborn "know-it-all" edge.  So in times of anxiousness you can imagine how things play out.  All that being said, everything is now out of our hands.  It is nothing but a waiting game at this point.  I wish I could say how long this will take.  All I know is that USCIS says they process these things as soon as the papers reach their office.  The hope is still that Maggie can return with Steve on July 31st.  We are looking forward to an August full of new things!  Thanks to everyone who has been asking about the process and keeping us in prayer.  Continue all of those things!  We greatly appreciate your support as we wait.  

Request for Evidence

This past week I have been sitting at my computer much, much more than I like to.  But what has made it bearable is that I have been working on things that better the future of our little girl.  This picture has been open on my desktop for the past week reminding me, every time I feel frustrated, that good things are in store.

As many of you know, we have been given a request for evidence from the USCIS office in Nairobi.  In order to review our case and give us a visa, the USCIS needs us to provide more evidence that Maggie fits the definition of orphan.  Since receiving this request in late April, we have been doing our best to make sense of even the most minute details of the laws regarding this type of Visa.  At first the task seemed daunting, but thanks to friends who have already gone through this, and other lawyer friends who are willing to look over our case, I feel like we have a good solid shot at this.  The past four days I have spent almost the entire 6 hours Perez is at school, sitting at my computer typing up our response to the USCIS and checking and double checking to make sure things are accurate and evidenced correctly.  The good news is, Maggie definitely fits the definition, which means there is no reason they shouldn't grant her a visa.  We just have to prove what we already know to be true.

I hate to say this right now, being that we have absolutely no concrete evidence to support it, and I don't really want to get anyone (including myself) overly excited, but we believe that if all goes in a timely matter, Maggie should be able to come home with Steve when he returns from his mission trip to Uganda at the end of July!  Like I said, don't start cheering yet.  Sometimes these things can drag out.  But, please continue to pray that we endure through repeated interactions with USCIS, that our case is granted a visa and that we are able to wait patiently.  Keep our dear little Maggie close to your hearts as God prepares her for a lot of new changes.

From San Diego with love,
Ali

Back to School

Today went a little different than I had planned. We ate breakfast, packed Perez's lunch and dropped him off at school for the first day back after Spring Break (and for us...the first day after a long trip). A month ago, I had envisioned this day with another participant. I would get both the kids up, we would all eat breakfast together, we would have the excitement of Maggie's first day, I would pack two lunches, I would walk both kids into class and introduce Maggie to her new teacher. Okay, okay. I know this is a little too angelic for the first day back to school with two jet-lagged kids, one of which isn't feeling much like going back and one of which has never even been there in the first place, but please, just give a mom a moment to dream.

After letting Perez out of the car my heart sank a little. I watched my son walk in to school alone. Only a few weeks ago I pictured this exact situation with Perez walking past the gate holding Maggie's hand. Life has a way of painting new pictures for us. We can't help but think of what the future holds. We can't help but envision what may happen. If only we could truly live in the present, than maybe the future wouldn't look so good that we wished we were already there.

Standing in direct opposition to this train of thought is one that suggest the future breathes hope into the present. I would probably agree, but ask me on a different day.

I have resolved, for however long or short of a time this lasts, to play the cards as they come. That's not to say that I'm not still thinking about tomorrow, but more so that I will also still think about today.

From San Diego with Love,

Ali

Home Again

After over 24hours of travel, we have made it back to San Diego. Thanks to all who have spent the last month praying for us. Our journey isn't over, it's possibly just getting started again!!

From San Diego with Love,

Ali

Lessons Learned from the past month

(in random order)

• never stop giving you all, even when you are frustrated or tired or disenchanted with the whole thing
• always greet everyone you see respectfully, meaning stop what you are doing, look them in the eye and give them a moment of your time
• always accept invitations to people’s homes. It is their way of honoring you and your way of honoring them
• always give second chances
• always treat your children with dignity and respect
• always treat other children the same way you would treat your own
• never doubt God’s ability to change anything regarding character and relationships
• always trust that bonds can be made with anyone, no matter how far away they may seem at first
• never believe that things will go as planned
• always remain flexible
• never get discouraged by unmet expectations. Sometimes, those expectations are outside the realm of God’s plan
• always allow room in your heart for more love
• never refuse a gift
• always carry your camera, even when you least want to stand out
• always dance when music is playing
• always kiss your children goodnight, even if they are already asleep
• always eat a hearty breakfast, it may be your only meal for the whole day
• never hang your laundry out to dry at night, thunderstorms rain and wind force you to do it all again the next morning
• never assume people are a certain way just because they hold a certain position
• never assume people are unfriendly because they don’t smile at you
• always indulge your childrens’ playfullness, even if it means you will be cleaning up the rest of the day

Easter Sunday Stitches

What’s Easter without a trip to the ER? Or should I say a trip to a local Ugandan clinic! Our Easter went from a calm lunch at a Pastor’s house eating matooke and meat and chatting about Ugandan traditions to wrapping Perez’s forearm in a ripped sheet and running up the hill to catch a boda boda while trying to apply pressure and keep his arm above his heart.

I’ve never had this experience before in a foreign country, but I didn’t have much choice. After a quick dousing with water and getting a good look at his cut, it was VERY obvious that he was going to need stitches ASAP. I squeezed the cut together, wrapped it as tight as I could and off we went. I told the pastor to take me to the best clinic they have in this town. We didn’t have time to arrange transport to another town. So you get what you get. We do have travel insurance, but I didn’t have the card on me and, to be honest, I don’t even really know exactly how it works. At the time, none of that mattered.

Can’t say much about how impressed I was with the clinic (those details are probably better shared in a not so public sanction) but I can say how impressed I was with Perez. The kid is amazing. He cried a little when it first happened, calmed down, then cried a tiny bit more when they injected the anesthetic. That’s it. By crying, I mean tears rolled down his cheeks. Nothing else. He didn’t make any noise and he didn’t resist at all. He sat on my lap, took a couple deep breaths and clenched his teeth down, determined to be strong. He watched the whole thing.

It’s not the prettiest stitching job I’ve seen and I’ve got a hunch the scar won’t be that pretty either, but it was necessary. I’m praying for no infection!

We returned to the Pastor’s house to share the news with all that were there and say thank you for being so kind. Of course, Perez wanted to stay and play, but being the mean mom that I am sometimes I said it would be better for us to go back home. So now, we’re home. He and Maggie are currently performing “surgery” on another friend while he lays on the coffee table wrapped in a towel with his head covered in a shower cap and his feet restrained with one of my headbands. Looks more like an abduction than a surgery, but they are all laughing, so I guess all is well.

From Uganda on Easter Sunday,

Ali

Good Friday

On a rainy Good Friday in Uganda, I’ve immersed myself in what I call “laundry therapy”. I woke up this morning feeling a little mopey. I know, I only have a few more days in Uganda, I should make the most of it by spending time with kids and staff and shooting pictures and walking around the community. But this morning, that motivation just wasn’t there. I spied the bucket of dirty clothes that I have been putting off washing for the last few days and decided it was finally time.

Washing clothes by hand takes time, especially when you have your own and two other kids clothes to do. On most days I would wish I hadn’t brought so many clothes. Not today. Hand washing is a sort of therapy for days when you just want to be alone with your thoughts. By alone in this context I mean, standing alone in the bathroom while 9 or 10 kids kick each other on the furniture, draw on whatever they can find, pick ice off the freezer drawers with knives, and bounce around a large exercise ball left over from a previous occupant. Today was not the day for me to police this. I really couldn’t care less what they were doing. I was washing. That was all that mattered.

There is a physical nature to washing by hand that makes you feel like you are doing something worth while. The cold water, the detergent eating into your skin, the roughness you build up on your knuckles, the pain you feel in your back and hamstrings while bending over a large plastic bucket. In all honesty, it is the kind of therapy where you work yourself out of a bad mood. The task is just mundane and monotonous enough that it allows you to escape mentally and process things.

After 2 1/2 hours of this, and a short break in the rain, I feel sane enough to exit my apartment and enter the world around me. Today we had planned to swim at the pool at a local hotel. If the sun shows up, we just might still do that. A little downtime by the pool with a soda in hand might also be a helpful therapy.

From Uganda with love,

Ali

The Rat: part 4

Not sure which of the family members I was just introduced to, but one thing is for sure: no rat trap works near as good as a gang of Ugandan boys armed with brooms, a dust pan, a long piece of sugar cane and an old wiffle ball bat.

Say goodnight to another night dweller.

From Uganda with ALOT of love for Ugandan boys,

Ali

It's Going to Nairobi

For many of you involved in this process either currently or in the past, you understand the title of this post. Our visa request has been denied, as of now, and our file will be sent to the USCIS office in Nairobi. That office will look over our case and decide if they want to issue the visa. This can take many months and there is still no guarantee the visa will be issued. Just so you don't have to read between the lines on this one, Maggie will not be coming home with us this trip.

It's slightly difficult to process this all right now, being that the decision happened only a few hours ago. I can say that things went well at the interview, the consular wasn't a jerk and I really wasn't shocked by his decision. I wasn't pleased by it, but it didn't come out of nowhere. We new well in advance that our case didn't fit the bill. We were asking him to make an exception to the law. He didn't.

Disappointed, yes. Hopeless, no. Honestly, right now, I'm praying that whatever plan God has for this little girl over the next season doesn't involve anymore pain, either physical or emotional. I am praying that God strengthens their family. I am praying that God restores the mom's health. I am praying that somehow, Maggie, the two siblings and her mom are all provided for. I know that God is the giver of every good thing and I pray that he would pour out blessings on their family. They have been gracious and giving and selfless. May God honor their character by multiplying it ten-fold on their behalf.

I'm sure more of the emotions of this whole thing will spill into the pages of future posts, but for tonight, this is all we can handle.

From Uganda with Love,

Ali

Moving Forward

We have a passport, ladies and gentlemen!

[APPLAUSE]

Now, on to the Embassy! We will drop papers Wednesday morning, and have our interview Wednesday afternoon. I am suprisingly at peace with the whole thing. I trust and believe that God is going ahead of us. Instead of making a list of requests for you all to pray for, please just spend time thanking God for being good and thanking him for allowing us the opportunity to be a part Maggie's second chapter.

From Uganda with love,

Ali

Mirinda Fruities on the Roof

We had a calm and relaxed day yesterday. After spending the morning in church celebrating Palm Sunday, we received a last minute invitation to visit our friend Richard's house for lunch. We were extremely grateful for the invitation and enjoyed every bit of our conversations with the people who came and also enjoyed every bit of the meal! Beef stew, rice, avocado, pineapple, chapat...the works! Thank you, Richard, for your hospitality.

Played baseball with our little friend Mulego Moses and about 25 other kids. It is obvious that baseball is not the sport of choice in Uganda. Few kids at the school even knew how to hold the bat, much less run the bases in any sort of organized game-type fashion. Granted, our bases were just kids shoes and pieces of trash, but it was still a very foreign concept to them. These kids are quick learners, though, and by the third or fourth time batting they were picking it up.

Bought a few sodas and enjoyed a beautiful sunset on the roof with the kids. They were drinking a kind of soda here called Mirinda Fruity (many of you Ugandan travelers know this drink). The amount of dye and sugar in this soda is probably toxic, but the kids love them.

Back to work on sponsorship update photos and letters today. Should receive passport tomorrow and be off to the embassy on Wednesday for interview!

From Uganda with Love,

Ali

Hair Cut

Maggie got her head shaved yesterday. Not because it is fashionable (although the majority of young girls in Uganda have shaved heads), but because she has a severe fungal infection all over her scalp. I took her to a clinic on Thursday and the attendant took one look at her and said she had an infection and that the medicine was going to cost close to $40. I said I would get a second opinion and left. Took her to the school clinic Friday and the nurse was very kind, told me exactly what she had, what to do about it and gave me an ointment and oral tablet she has to take for 30 days. It didn’t cost me a dime. In order for the ointment to work, she needed to get a hair cut. Off to the barber shop!

We walked up the hill from the school, Perez carrying Maggie on his back the whole way. We reached the top of the hill, called for boda boda’s and off we went. I didn’t think about it until we were already en route to the barber shop, but I had a fleeting thought of, what did I just do? I just popped my kids on the back of a motorcycle with no helmets, a complete stranger at the wheel and I shouted to my 9 year old saying, “You hold Maggie on OK?” while I hopped on a separate motorcycle. Like I said earlier, it was a fleeting thought, but it entered my mind nonetheless. I laughed about the adventure and, of course, repeated the same thing on the way home.

Found the barber shop and Maggie plopped down in the chair. The only issue was, getting your head shaved when you have hundreds of blister type sores on it can be very painful. The stylist did a great job cutting, but when it came to the end and he applied the soothing oil, it wasn’t so soothing. Maggie cringed up and her eyes filled with tears. I asked him if he could wipe it off and he did the best he could, but the damage was already done. She got over it quickly, but I felt really bad for her.

On the way back we stopped at the market, got a pineapple and some bananas and started walking back home. On the road down to the school we ran into the Ugandan version of the ice cream man. A happy older man was pushing a bike with garbage bags tied to the side and a large white bucket on the seat. In San Diego, you might think “that’s no ice cream man” if you know what I’m saying. Kids (and even adults) were gathering around him as he scooped out what looked like rainbow sherbet and placed it on cones. How can you resist rainbow sherbet on a hot day! I bought some for the kids and we continued on with smiles on our faces. Total cost for two scoops of sherbet on two cones? 1,500 shillings. About 50 cents. Now that’s the kind of prices I rave about!

It was a good afternoon for Perez and Maggie. They got to spend a little time together away from all the activity and other kids at the school. We are planning a few more outings like this, one of them may even involve swimming at the pool at a local hotel! Gotta find a suit for Maggie somewhere and then we will take the plunge!

From Uganda with Love,

Ali

Adoption Update

Things are slowing down a bit, unfortunately. As is often the case here, things come up...meaning everyday, things come up. Meaning multiple times a day, things come up that delay other things.

Here's the scoop. We can't get home until we have a visa. We can't get a visa until we have an interview. We can't get an interview until we turn in paperwork. We can't turn in paperwork until we have a passport. We can't get a passport until we have a typed ruling from the judge. We can't get a typed ruling from the judge until someone figures out what's going on with the computer network for the whole family court division! They promised one on Wednesday morning, then promised one on Thursday, then just found out they are "re"-promising one by Friday. Delays, delays. Not surprising, and totally expected in this neck of the woods, but frustrating none the less.

Our time line is getting very tight. Do-able, but tight.

More to come when I find anything out.

From Uganda with Love,

Ali

Goodbye Steve

At about 11:00 today we said a sad goodbye to Steve as he travels back to San Diego for one day, then off to Haiti for a week. This goodbye wasn't near as sad as the one that happened later in the evening. A young girl named Scovia came by the apartment and I told her that Steve had gone back today. She immediately dropped her head and started crying. I did my best to comfort her, but to no avail. You see, most of the older kids had been at another school today participating in a sports competition and weren't around when Steve left the school, meaning they didn't get a formal goodbye. Formal goodbyes are very important here.

It's interesting. In my observation of this culture, many people are detached from each other emotionally. Often times there is so much loss that it is easier to not attach to someone in the first place. If you don't attach, you don't hurt when that person leaves or dies. When you do attach, the together times are so much better, but the away times are so much more painful. Many children here don't allow themselves to be vulnerable enough to attach to someone. And if by chance they do, they are not practiced enough in dealing with emotional loss that the pain seems unbearable.

Scovia has a huge heart. She is very attached to her own biological dad, whom she sees only once a year. Steve is kind of a stand in for that dad when he travels here (and quite possibly, so are some of the other "dad" like figures that stay in this apartment). She has allowed herself to love us and we have only multiplied that love a million times. Her hurt was real and deep.

Steve, you are loved all around the world and back again. We will be missing you while we finish out our trip here.

From Uganda with a tearful child full of love,

Ali

Court Ruling

The judge gave a positive ruling. Not quite in the mood to hash out all the details, but regardless of his position on our case, which he made abundantly clear in both the hearing and ruling, he granted our request favorably for Maggie. No explanation there except that God is making a way for her.

Yes, that is the first hurdle and we made it over that one. The embassy is the second and even bigger one. If all our paperwork goes as planned, we will be in the embassy Monday afternoon for Maggie's visa interview. I will have to go alone because Steve is going back. Not an ideal situation, but it's what we've got. This is more difficult because Maggie doesn't fit orphan status. We have to make a defense as to why they should give us a visa regardless of the written law. It could be very messy.

In the midst of all this, I really believe that whatever is God's plan for Maggie and our family will play itself out in an efficient and timely manner...and I don't just mean her coming home with us. I mean WHATEVER happens. God is good.

From Uganda with love,

Ali

The Rat: part 3

Of course you knew there would be more to this story right? Rats don't live alone. Woke up this morning to find bigger and even more rat droppings on the counter, in the bedrooms etc. They are coming back with revenge for their brother.

From Uganda with a plan to buy more rat traps,

Ali

The Rat: part 2

We don't hunt. We don't celebrate death. But this is a rat and we could live with this little guy no longer. It took several days and the help of 10 year old Muwanguzi Mike (He told us Ugandans don't fear rats...after watching us jump up on the furniture) to bring him down. There was laughter, broken furniture and a master plan. And it worked. Good bye our little night dwelling friend.

When is God good

In a few hours we will receive the ruling from our judge, and I’m troubled. I’m troubled by what I have perceived in the last few days as a prevailing theology as it relates to the goodness of God. It goes something like this, “If and when I get what I am hoping for, then my resounding response will be, God is good!” But when the outcome is something other than what I hoped for, is God still good. Do I keep fighting until I get my way (and then say God is good)?

Is God good only when I get my way? Do outcomes and circumstances dictate my view of God? Many will quickly answer “no,” but these days I am having to check myself.

Last night, we were sitting on the roof of our apartment watching the Ugandan sunset, and Ali shared this verse. This is so good. So helpful.

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me? Look on me and answer, O Lord my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death; my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,” and my foes will rejoice when I fall. But I will trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to me. Psalm 13

I don’t like the silence of Christians when things aren’t going the way that we had hoped. Why can’t we shout that God is good even when our circumstances are not? Ali and I have been discussing these things while waiting to hear from the judge. How we respond matters to us. We want to believe that whatever happens in this adoption, that it is of God, and we will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to us, whatever the outcome may be. Sure, one outcome will generate a more positive emotion than the other, but it will not change that God is good.

When is God Good? As they say here in Uganda, "All the time!"

From Uganda with love,

Steve

The Rat

The week before we travelled here, we had lunch with a guy who has travelled to Uganda a few times and (come to find out a few days ago) just received word that the daughter they are trying to adopt from here just got her visa approved. Yay a thousand times over! As great as that is, that’s not the point of the introduction. At lunch, he was giving us a few pointers about the apartment, what is currently not working and what they left in a few suitcases in case we needed anything. He also warned us that while his wife was here, they were having rat issues. He mentioned an electric mouse trap they left at the apartment. Mental note: rats...find the rat trap immediately.

A few days ago, while waking at 4:30 am to the sound of plastic water buckets banging around at the water well, I was properly introduced to the rodent spoken of in the above paragraph. Being that it was 4:30 in the morning, it was still dark. I walked out toward the kitchen and saw the shadow of a scurrying rat on the counter. Of course, I ran back in the room and jumped on the bed. I don’t know what it is about rats, but I’ve never met one who hasn’t caused even the bravest man to jump up on something to get his feet off the floor.

Needless to say, the last five days we have been doing everything possible to catch it. Peanut butter in an electric trap, cardboard boxes, brooms and dustpans, even sugar cane used as a giant rat swatter. I wish I could post a picture of the thing stuck in a trap and dead, but, unfortunately, he remains at large. Two nights ago we were all sitting in the living room with Perez’s niece (16 year old niece to be exact...figure that one out) and a little girl named Leah and I watched the thing sneak in the front door. The next 25 minutes we launched an all out rat-hunt complete with plenty of jumping up on furniture, shrieks (both human and rat), brooms swinging wildly, cabinets being jostled, and finally the laughter and relief of watching the thing squeeze its way back out the door.

Since that night, we have shoved a towel under and between the front door each night and never gone more than a few minutes with the door open. We have seen him three times eyeing us from his hole above our staircase, just waiting for us to give him an inch. This morning I woke to the sound of plastic being ripped open and came out in the kitchen to see Steve breaking into a package of glue traps. These are the nasty kind. The kind of trap where the rat doesn’t die, he just sticks there squealing and staring up at you with beady black eyes begging for you to give him a second chance.

I’ll be sure to post the picture when we get him.

Morally Upright

I know, I know. By the sounds of the title you think I might lecture about some spiritual practice we should emulate in the states. Or maybe you think this is a post from Steve. Incorrect by both of those measures. This is actually a post about food.

For the last 5 years we have been happily walking around town going to open air markets and munching on the produce we buy there on our walk back. Yesterday, we stopped doing that. We were walking with our good friend Godwin on the way back from doing sponsorship work in a town called Lugazi. We stopped at a street side vendor to buy chapati, which is very similar to a tortilla, only a little thicker, and it is often eaten by itself. If cooked fresh, they are awesome! We bought three and passed them out to myself, Steve and Godwin. Godwin wrapped his up and put it away. Steve asked if he was hungry and he said yes, but that he doesn’t eat and walk. We thought it may have something to do with it being a safety hazard on chaotic streets. You always want to be paying attention around here so you don’t get side swiped by a boda boda or fall into the rain ditch carved into the side of the road. He said it has nothing to do with that, but that eating and walking is not morally upright. He related it back to the bible where people are taught to sit down and break bread together. Even within the school we work at, they are taught the same thing. This explained a lot for me in regards to observations I’ve made over the past years. This also gave me reason to put my chapati away until I returned to the school. I already stand out enough in this culture, I don’t want to point more attention to myself especially when it deals with morality. For the past five years in Uganda, we have been living a life of immorality...and Steve calls himself a pastor! Unbelievable!

From Uganda with food in my pockets,

Ali

Blowing some dust off the history books

“Babirye” is the name given to the first born of a set of twins if the first born is a girl. Maggie was given that name. According to information from the mother, Maggie’s twin died a few months after the birth. They were born at home and received no immediate care.

We have since learned some interesting information about twins. Our lawyer shared with us that often times if a twin dies, it is considered bad omen to talk about the one that has passed. This explains a little for us. Last year when we learned about her name, we asked if she had a twin. Everyone said no. Turns out, they didn’t want to wish ill will on the Maggie, the living child, by speaking of the one that had died.

Good information for us and definitely part of the story God has written for Maggie. We are still in waiting mode in regards to the adoption. Not much we can do but look forward to a positive ruling on the 27th. We fully believe that if this is what God has in mind for our family, then He will make an easy path for us. In the meantime, we have been busy with the children in the sponsor program. We are working on update photos, letters, and interviews for new children. I have seen many of your sponsored kids already and they all send their greetings. It is so amazing for me to have seen these kids repeatedly over the last 4 or 5 years and watch them grow right in front of the eye of the camera. I do my best to remember almost all 325 of the kids names, and they do their best to cooperate with me when taking their photo. They remember me and I remember them. It is an amazing relationship.

From Uganda with Love,

Ali

Ripped off at the Coline Hotel

For those of you that know Uganda, we just got officially ripped off at the Coline Hotel. Ok, I guess that isn't fair. They didn't raise the prices just because we were there. We payed the same that everyone does. However, we spent 162,000 Ugandan Shillings. Yes, you should be in shock. That is the equivalent of $70 US for fried chicken, french fries, tilapia and juice. Based on what we learned in church this morning, we could have spent that money and payed for half a pillar to aid in the construction of a new building for True Vine church! We have eaten at the Coline many times on past trips. This year, they raised their prices. BY ALOT. I believe we have decided to boycott this hotel and only eat food from local markets and restaurants, which means we will be making a heck of a lot of veggie stir fry.

We are really having some stomach issues now...and it isn't from eating bad food, if you know what I mean. I haven't come anywhere near spending that much money on a meal in the last year in America, much less an impoverished nation where almost everything is cheap. It makes me sick. Rice and veggies for us tonight!

From Uganda with a lighter wallet,

Ali

The Fruit of My Labor

Let’s stand up and give a rowdy round of applause to all the women around the world who wash their clothes by hand! [APPLAUSE]

I spent my Saturday morning the same way many women in Uganda do. I cleaned the apartment, made our beds and washed our clothes. The only difference is that we have no machine. Wanting to fit in as much as possible, I chose to wash Perez and Maggie’s clothes myself. Many women offered to do it for me, but I replied that I wash my own clothes in America. “By hand,” one women questioned with a smile. “No” I said laughing. “I am capable, though.” “You will get sores here” she said, pointing to the skin close to the knuckles. “I don’t mind,” I replied. “You will after a few washes” she said. We both laughed.

After a few hours and only a few pieces of clothes I resolved to do the rest tomorrow! No sores yet, but the detergent here is very strong. I’m sure I will have a few by the next wash. Many thoughts on culture in regards to this but it only makes me love it here all the more. There is something so real and hardworking and earthy about this place that it enlivens my spirit.

From Uganda with love and some raw hands,

Ali

A small taste of our life right now

Court Day

Talk about emotional overload. Not all bad, just too much of it. Maggie stayed overnight at the school last night. Because today was court day and our driver was going to collect us at the school, she didn’t go home in the morning. Also, because of that, she had no clothes to wear to court today except an old skirt and torn shirt. This was great news for me! I had bought her a dress, but wasn’t sure if I should give it to her. I am very cautious with those things, not wanting to step on the toes of the mother. I came to the dorm she was staying in and showed her the dress. Her eyes got huge. “For me?” “Yes, Maggie. All for you.” She knelt down as the girls are taught and looked up with glimmering eyes.

I helped her get dressed. A bright yellow sweater over the top of a black, yellow and white floral dress. So stinking adorable. AND it fit her perfectly. Love it!

We drove to court for a briefing. We rode with Maggie and her mother. I know we have so much to say to each other but no common language to share it in. I’ve resolved to start learning Luganda even if only for the sake of communicating with the mother’s of my children. At the same time I was processing this, I couldn’t help but give notice to all the other thoughts swirling around my brain about how difficult this must be for Maggie’s mom. I seriously can’t even give words to how I was feeling in the moment. My eyes just welled up and I did everything I could to keep them from dripping down my cheeks. First of all, to come to grips with the fact that you have a terminal disease as brutal as aids, must be so difficult. Secondly, to know that two of your children have already died because of the disease, is even more difficult. Last of all is the fact that you understand your situation so well that you would give up the youngest to spare her the suffering she will someday have. The strength of character this mother has is unlike any I have ever seen. We would do well to emulate even the tiniest bit of what she has to offer.

Getting on to court. Everything seemed somewhat tense. The father had to appear in court. However, he has not been around the mother or Maggie in years. Turns out he is often drunk, violent, and refused (up until today) to take a blood test for HIV. He hasn’t shown up to anything else our lawyer has asked of him. As you can imagine, things were slightly awkward. Not necessarily between us and him, but the whole situation. Court itself was also tense. I don’t know how they do it, but those judges manage to make everything feel so intense. The power dynamic that seeps out of those courtrooms is sickening. If we could actually have the chance to talk with the judge like the human he is, not the untouchable authority he presents as I think things would seem so much better. But, not the case. We sat in the courtroom, listened to him say why he was challenging our case and left. I’ve got to be honest with you, I couldn’t disagree with anything he said. I will save details for personal conversation, or maybe for the next blog, but, needless to say, we walked out of the courtroom not necessarily thinking everything went too well. Our case now hinges on the positive blood test of BOTH of the parents. We will find out tomorrow about that issue when lab reports are returned and we will have our ruling on March 27th.

We sat in a cafe across the street while waiting for our driver and tried to process the everything. Mixed emotions run deep. I pray that God is working things out in our spirits and he gives us peace. Tonight I pray that same prayer for the mother and father who have sacrificed their selves to give their youngest daughter a second chance at life.

From Uganda with Love and Tears,

Ali

A second home

Kampala. Capital of Uganda and home to 1.6 million people...and also our home for the next two days. Everything we do in regards to Maggie’s adoption will take place in Kampala. We traveled there today to register with the US Embassy. The journey typically takes 45 minutes, but we’ve done it in 20 (with my eyes closed and my knuckles turning white). Our driver Martin even wore his sunglasses to appear to the police as a bodyguard for some important Americans. Ha! As is also the case in Southern California, it could take two hours with traffic. The only difference is that the definition of traffic is drastically different. If you have ever been to Africa before you get my drift.

We showed up 10 minutes past Embassy closing time and they still saw us. We had a very positive meeting with two women who checked our paperwork and gave us a document to take to the medical appointment on Friday. As far as we know, neither of those women have any pull in our visa case at all, but it was still good to see a little compassion for Maggie’s story and a positive attitude towards our case. We had about two hours to kill before meeting with our lawyer, also in Kampala, so our driver, Richard, dropped us off at a shopping mall. We grabbed a bite to eat. Hamburgers and pizza!! Funny, but in a mall in the middle of the capital, yes, you can get those types of food. We realized how developed Kampala is in comparison to Mukono where we spend most of our time. Even more drastic is the difference between that and the villages we visit.

We hopped a boda (motorcycle taxi) to our lawyers office of which we only had a business card with address to give them any clue where we were going. After asking around and showing the card to about 5 or 6 other drivers, we finally said all we know is that it is somewhere by the airline offices. That rang a bell. We felt slightly Amazing Race-ish at this point and were enjoying the adventure. Hopping on the back of a motorcycle with a sweaty black man in the middle of an overcrowded foreign city is always a welcome adventure in my books! Needless to say, we made it to our lawyers office where we spent time reviewing our case, making changes, pointing out errors, etc. The person who puts the papers together, Rebecca, is very sharp. She noticed a few things we didn’t and gave us advice about the particular judge we will be seeing.

So, tomorrow is court day. We are as ready as we will ever be and know that God is going ahead of us to soften the heart of the judge and give us a quick and positive ruling. We will leave at 9. Have a briefing with the parents and lawyers at 11. Arrive at court at 1 and have our hearing at 2. Sometime in the midst of that, we will get Maggie’s passport photos, go to another clinic to obtain a medical record for the mom and try to persuade the father to take an HIV test. Some of these may be easy, some may not.

In the meantime, we are spending time with the kids here and getting to know our daughter better. She is amazing. Can’t wait to introduce you to her.

From Uganda with Love,
Ali

Safe and Sound

We made it! Travel was long and uneventful. Perez is a champ when it comes to long flights...maybe because he can watch movies and play video games ‘till his eyes cross. We were met at the airport by good friends and Perez’s mom from Uganda. Through a mix of body language, tiny bit of English, and some much needed translation, we spent the time talking about Perez and showing videos and photos. It is always good to be greeted by people we love in a country we love!

Pulled up at the school and were immediately surrounded by hundreds of kids. Some familiar faces we know and love and some new faces we will grow to love. The kids grabbed our luggage (as is custom in Uganda...their hospitality is amazing) and loaded it in the apartment. We then spent the next few hours with Maggie, and of course about 50 other kids. Much more to say later when my eyelids aren’t drooping so low, but let’s just say Maggie is a personality alright! She is sweet and full of spunk. Looking at her tonight just made me realize that if this doesn’t go through right now, there is gonna be some major heartbreak to deal with.

From Uganda with love,

Ali