This blog is moving!

Hello to all our faithful readers and followers.  This blog is making a change for 2013.  I (Ali) now have a new photography website and blog all in one.  Check out www.alidenneyphotography.com and keep reading all the happenings!  Eventually the blogsite you are using now will be removed, so sign up to follow the new one ASAP!

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