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Entrepreneurs Can Change the World

2009-05-13T18:13:00.003+03:00

"You people are like God!"

2009-05-08T19:32:00.004+03:00

At a weekly team meeting, I asked Jane, the president of BURANGA to share how her meeting went with a new potential KEZA partner. The group she was meeting with was visiting BURANGA for the first time. They are another women’s cooperative that sews material based products that will soon come on as a KEZA partner. I asked BURANGA to meet with them to share ideas about what it takes to become a cooperative and run a business in Rwanda. Jane said, “Have I told you how they treated me the first time I visited their project a couple weeks ago?”

Uh oh, I thought to myself. What happened?

I said to Jane, “No I haven’t heard, tell me.” She smiled and said, “They were very rude.” I thought oh no, this is not going to be good. “But I prayed for them because I know I needed to just be patient. I understood the women just wanted to go home from work.” She said. “So I was patient with them.” She said again, with a big smile on her face.

I thought to myself, this woman is wise beyond her 32 years.

She proceeded, “So before they came to visit BURANGA, I gathered our women together and told them, ‘We need to honor the visitors that are coming to see us today. We need to welcome them very well and make them feel at home here at BURANGA. We have talked about being leaders and teaching other women. Now is our time to be good examples.” They all agreed and welcomed the visitors as warmly as if they were old friends.

After Jane showed the visitors around the BURANGA Center they sat to talk about business. The leaders of BURANGA sat with the leaders of the other cooperative and they shared ideas, problems and solutions. Jane shared that the BURANGA women do not get jealous of each other anymore because they have become a family, so when one woman makes more necklaces than another they celebrate in the accomplishment because it means they have all improved. If one succeeds they all succeed. The leader from the other cooperative said, “Wow you are very good people! That is amazing that you take care of each other that way.” She then asked Jane, “So what do you do when someone is sick and does not work at all?” (This is a common problem for both groups since many of the women are HIV positive). Jane answered, “We take care of her if she is sick. If someone has a baby she takes 2 months off and still gets paid. If she is sick we make sure she is ok, and she comes back to work when she is healthy.”

“You people are like God!” A member of the other organization exclaimed.

Jane laughed. “No, we are family. It’s simple. We take care of each other so that we all can move forward.”

I interrupted Jane trying to hide the tears welling up in my eyes, and said, “Jane this is huge. Yes it’s a simple story but you are living Ubuntu and you are showing others that it truly is possible to do so. You are true leaders and with humility and kindness you have shown others Ubuntu. When Jared and I first talked about what KEZA could be, this is what we talked about. We talked about you being leaders and being examples of Jesus to others through your business and the community you’ve created in BURANGA.”

Jared said, “Yes exactly. You are living like Jesus, you aren’t just talking about Him, but you are showing others his message by living it. Jesus lived the gospel, He didn’t just talk about it. And He expects us to do the same. The first followers of Jesus lived in community like this and took care of each other just as you are doing now.”

Jane continued, “At the end of the meeting the leader from the other cooperative apologized for how they treated me when I visited them. I told her not to worry, that I understand and that I forgive them.”

I couldn’t find the words to express to Jane how deeply her story had touched me. It touches a place deep in my heart where there is a reservoir of desire for how women are viewed in the world, especially in Africa. This simple gesture of showing kindness to someone who has wronged you. To welcoming others, not as a threat, but as family. And at last, of how the women of BURANGA truly care for each other.

They have come a long way in the 3 years they’ve been working together…and have made the biggest leaps in the last year. Through our tribulations last year we were forced to unite. Race or tribe was no longer an issue. No longer are cliques acceptable. No longer are the women competing in a way that harm their competitors, envious if one succeeds. But rather they learned that together they are stronger and can truly pull themselves out of the poverty that has plagued much of their lives. When one is strong, she pulls the weak with her, and in turn when she grows weary, the weak she once pulled with her can now pull her along.

KEZA’S HEART

2008-12-01T23:06:00.004+03:00

As I look back on the last year, I am struck by a number of things. Sisters of Rwanda’s morph into KEZA has been so much more than a name change. In August we experienced a tragedy that shattered all of our hearts. The women of KEZA came to us to share a reality that has had immeasurably devastating consequences. Our gratefulness runs deep and wide for their courage to expose the reality that was taking place within the organization. They told us that Co-Founder & Pastor , Joseph Ayienga and General Manager, Margaret Karara were stealing from the organization, using the name to raise funds under false pretenses, pocketing money allocated for school fees and verbally abusing the women. The Directors of the organization and the remaining team members were both shocked and deeply saddened by this betrayal.

The aftermath of this has been a tiresome journey, each of us trying to balance the uneasy volatility of their retaliation to the exposure, full of lies, slander and false accusations.

But the heart of this story lies not in the horrible abuse being heaped on the organization, its leaders and the women, the true heart of this story has left us humbled and awed by the strength, courage and resilience of our women yet again. Despite consistent threats and being kicked out of the church they’ve attended for almost 2 years, the women have stood their ground. They believe in KEZA…they believe in what we are doing together and in the family we’ve built. But most importantly they believe in each other. In our last newsletter I described walls being broken down as the women embraced a spirit of healing in their own lives. Little did we know how deep that spirit of healing would have to journey in each of our hearts over the next few months. But she has journeyed with us. Our family at KEZA has never been so strong. The women have defended the honor of our President & Founder Jared Miller as false accusations continue to fly at him day and night. They have stood in the gap, in a place where only they could stand. They fought hard, both on their knees and in local government offices telling the truth about the controversy time and time again.

In 1910 Theodore Roosevelt said: “It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.”

This quote spoke to me yesterday as I reflected on the journey Sisters of Rwanda…now KEZA, has taken over the last couple years. We have made mistakes yes. But we have learned from them, and though mistakes are seemingly devastating at the time we face them, their teaching is immense. We find ourselves covered in dust and sweat and blood often, not because we are doing something wrong, but because we are doing something each of us deeply believes in. The women of KEZA are daring greatly to overcome generations of abuse and poverty in their lives. They are daring to believe that they can make some of the finest fashion in the world. They are daring to embrace each other despite deep pain that once cause division amongst them. They are daring to believe in a God who will see them through anything. And alas, though few have in the past, they are daring to believe in themselves.

Sisters of Rwanda becomes KEZA

2008-09-11T15:34:00.009+03:00

Sisters of Rwanda started in December of 2006. We started this journey with just a few women, and together we have struggled, triumphed and learned what it is we are meant to do. Our family has ebbed and flowed with women and children for over 2 years, and we now have 43 women, just over 100 children, 2 international staff, 2 Rwandan staff, a handful of interns, an incredible team in the US, and a following of supporters all over the world. For the last 2 ½ years we’ve been researching alongside Rwandan women, but mostly we’ve been listening to the tears, the laughter, the challenges, the history…and in essence the hearts of Rwandan women and their children. Alas we are ready…Sisters of Rwanda is now KEZA.

Welcome to KEZA, “Where THEY become WE.”

At KEZA we believe that when THEY become WE, the world changes. We believe that when people cease to speak of “those Africans” living in poverty, disease and corruption, and begin to view human beings from all over the world as an interconnected HUMAN RACE, then the pain and suffering we so despise in the world will begin to fade away. This is the essence of Ubuntu philosophy. Ubuntu is described best by the honorable Desmond Tutu : ““Ubuntu is a concept that we have in our Bantu languages at home. Ubuntu is the essence of being a person. It means that we are people through other people. We cannot be fully human alone. We are made for interdependence, we are made for family. When you have ubuntu, you embrace others. You are generous, compassionate. If the world had more ubuntu, we would not have war. We would not have this huge gap between the rich and the poor. You are rich so that you can make up what is lacking for others. You are powerful so that you can help the weak, just as a mother or father helps their children. This is God's dream.”

KEZA exists to create high end careers in the fashion industry for oppressed people throughout Africa. We will ensure the highest quality products and the utmost in business ethics in each of our fashion producing partners, thus ensuring sustainability. We will exemplify and promote the Ubuntu philosophy in all that we do. Together we will show the world that Africa is a prime destination for investment and a producer of some of the world’s finest couture fashion. KEZA is where “they” become “we”, and each of our products shall exemplify the beauty and excellence of Africa.

*KEZA means beautiful in Rwanda's local language, Kinyarwanda.*

A Glimpse of Heaven...

2008-07-02T20:34:00.001+03:00

Two weeks ago the women of SOR had a day of fellowship. In all honesty, when they asked if we could do this, I envisioned a relaxing day of sitting and talking and simply being together. You can imagine my surprise when I showed up and found each woman elaborately dressed in beautiful Rwandese dresses. The women spent the day cooking a meal that included meat and preparing for the afternoon "events". It's important for you to know that meat is not a regular part of our diet because it's too expensive. It's a luxury that one enjoys only on very special occasions, and no more than once or twice per year. They had each chipped in a little bit of their own money to buy this treat. And the fact that they could afford to spare anything for this meal holds more significance than you might imagine. Before now this luxury was not even considered an option. KEZA, our new product line, is finally starting to bear fruit. As these fruits begin to blossom, so do our sisters. You can almost see the burdens they carry lighten. Smiles are no longer a rarity but a constant part of the décor.

After our special meal there was a time to thank God and open our hearts to one another. Some cried tears of relief as if they were breathing for the first time in years. Some danced; each step, each clap, and each cry praise to God for rescuing them...for loving them. One woman sang and didn't stop until her heart had released its fill. We laughed and cried together, sharing each other's joy and pain.

Yet the most beautiful piece of this day was just beginning. There was an exchange. I believe it was supposed to be a simple gift exchange, each woman having picked a name from a hat the Friday before. The women sat eagerly, gifts in their hands, anxious to give. Maggie called each woman by name and then asked, "Who is it that you love?" The woman would stand and announce the name of the woman she had picked to the cheers and laughter of the group. What happened next, with each repetition of the exchange, is what represents the very core of who we are and why we are here -- they embraced...and held on...and you could see the healing taking place before your very eyes. Some of the women almost knocked each other over with their love, some hung on and wouldn't let go, others laughed and danced within the arms of each embrace with tears streaming down faces stretched with smiles.

When SOR began, these women were broken from the abuse they had endured the majority of their lives. Year after year bitterness and resentment became the protection they had used to survive, year after year hard walls around their hearts grew higher and higher. To love another prostitute was out of the question. The likeness that might have bonded them represented what they despised, creating a wedge between them. And so, with each embrace the walls crumbled. Bitterness, resentment and hate evaporated before our eyes as we witnessed miracle after miracle. The Spirit of healing gently wrapped its arms around each of us as we witnessed this beautiful gift. Our seeds of hope blossomed as we witnessed blossoms of healing. To think this is only the beginning is almost too much for me to comprehend. The small seed of hope planted two years ago when Jared and Joseph started this journey with seven women in a tiny shack, has grown into a family of 42 women, 5 staff members, and 116 children.

I've never before had the pleasure of witnessing such healing.
I believe heaven actually opened up that day and showed her breathtaking face right here on earth.

family prayer

2008-05-13T20:18:00.003+03:00

"If you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from His love, if any fellowship with the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in Spirit and purpose. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. "
- Apostle Paul

sisters

2008-05-13T17:12:00.006+03:00

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about paper beads in Beauty for Ashes, and this week we finished our first pieces of the new jewelry line – KEZA Beads (KEZA Beads). This accomplishment is just the beginning…

With KEZA Beads, a new gender equality campaign, putting together the new training facility, fundraising, and new interns, the directors at SOR felt as though we just didn’t have enough work to do. So naturally, we decided to take on another project…soap and candle making.

Becca Stevens (www.beccastevens.org) and 6 other women traveled from Nashville to Kigali, Rwanda last week to share their wisdom and expertise in the skin care and candle business. Becca is founder of Thistle Farms (www.thistlefarms.org) a skin care line, and Magdalene House – a non-profit that works with prostitutes, female drug addicts and former prisoners in Nashville. They were an eclectic group, each with their own strong personalities and amazing gifting. And they were each a beautiful gift to us. These women didn’t just come to burn themselves with beeswax…they came to share their lives. The spirit of this group was raw and genuine. Their authenticity melted away pretense, and broke down walls.

We sat as sisters, barefoot on the floor, and talked. Sharing stories of humiliation, rape, life on the streets, abuse, prison, addiction and much more; realizing that our wounds are shared by women around the world. Realizing that together we can heal, day by day. Reminding each other that we don’t have to have it together all the time. We cried together. We laughed at each other.

Together, we rolled beads from paper, messed up necklaces, melted beeswax, started electrical fires, poured candles, mixed soap, dug in the dirt, prayed, and praised God for His grace.

So we made jewelry, soap and candles last week.

It’s the beginning of something and the air is thick with anticipation. We are low on funds and materials are scarce – but we have finally produced the first of 3 products that hold our dreams within each. That may sound silly – I know when most people are shopping for candles or soap or jewelry they aren’t thinking of other peoples dreams. Yet for us, these simple items hold the very livelihood of 43 women and their children. We’ve got candles that smell like honey and coffee, soap that smells like fresh cut flowers and clean laundry mixed together, and beautiful jewelry that is original and unique – all hand made. The smells from this week will remain with me. Varnish mixed with beeswax, roasted coffee, charcoal, clean fresh flowers, rain, mud, geranium, sweat, and the strong aroma of hope. These smells represent unity and community. They represent hurting women in America becoming a family with hurting women in Rwanda. They represent healing…healing together. They represent dreams becoming a reality.

Thistle Farming

2008-05-13T17:02:00.000+03:00

“Thistle farming means that the whole world is your farm.” – Becca Stevens (www.beccastevens.org)

Becca goes on to describe that nobody wants thistles because they are pesky weeds, yet they grow everywhere. To most people they are merely weeds…nothing good comes from them. The only good thing about thistles is getting rid of them. For some reason we humans do the same thing with people. We deem them unworthy of anything good because we don’t agree with their views. We wish our enemies would simply disappear. We give up on those who struggle and stumble over and over again. Instead of using our energy to find the good in others, in those that annoy us, we use our energy to try and forget about them.

Thistles come back though, they pop up in unexpected places…uninvited and unwanted.

So Becca decided she would find something good in them. Just like she does in the people society wants to get rid of and forget. And she did…or rather, she does. She’s a real live thistle farmer. She strips down these weeds, removes the harshness so that they are tender and vulnerable. Just as her spirit does the women she works with. She processes the thistles so that they are useful. Just as she trains those who seek refuge in Magdalene House. The result is paper that is strong and beautiful. This paper becomes a messenger of hope. It will carry in it healing oils made by society’s forgotten women. It will carry their hope, their stories, and their light into the hands of those of us who forget them. And these thistles…these pesky weeds that nobody wants, will connect society’s forgotten with society’s forgetful.

For more information on Magdalene House & Thistle Farms visit: www.thistlefarms.org

Beauty for ashes...

2008-04-08T13:16:00.005+03:00

Two weeks ago I accidentally joined the Sisters for their morning prayers. I had a meeting with someone who just happened to be on African time…in other words, she was late. So I walked into the Treasure Center - feeling awkward and out of place. I shyly greeted each Sister as they each turned to see who had walked in the door. Prior to this day the majority of our interactions had been with other people around, and because I don’t speak Kinyarwanda, all of our conversations had been through translators. So I sat alone feeling silly for a few minutes. I looked around and realized each woman was in her own space, praying; so I bowed my head and asked for forgiveness for being such a donkey.

A few minutes later they formed a circle and joined hands…I humbly joined them feeling as though I was intruding. They just smiled and welcomed me into their circle. They started singing and I swayed with them as they praised God in a language I couldn’t understand. Then they prayed again, aloud & together, and at that moment I was struck by the beauty I was witnessing…

I took my shoes off knowing the Spirit of God had joined us in that room.

I have no idea what was prayed or sung that morning, but it doesn’t matter. I was fortunate enough to witness beauty in a way I could have never anticipated. I spent the rest of the day digging through beads, teaching about color coordination, and getting the knees of my jeans filthy as I sat with each woman one by one. It was a glorious day. I was humbled by the simplicity that had brought me such joy.

As I recall the events of that day, I am drawn toward words from the prophet Isaiah. He says a lot in this particular speech, but it is these words in particular that move me: “…to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair…”

When our hopes and deepest desires are burned by life’s experiences and other people’s cruelty, they blow away as easily as ashes blow in the wind. Yet through Isaiah, God is promising to restore beauty, joy and praise to our damaged lives.

In a way, our most recent endeavor reflects this promise. We are using other people’s trash to create jewelry. Yes, trash to create jewelry. Our new jewelry is made from recycled paper that we are collecting all around Rwanda. The women are taking this scrap paper and rolling it into beautiful pieces of art.

Can you hear the irony in this story about paper beads? The women we work with are considered the “trash” of Rwandan society. They have been used and abused the majority of their lives and left to die. They have been burned by friends, lovers, and even their own families. They were recognized only by people who wanted to abuse them more, while everyone else equated them with the trash they burn at the end of the day. Just as most don’t think of scrap paper as something from which beauty can be derived, nothing good was ever expected to come from these women or their children.

In a couple of weeks we will release the first of our product line called KEZA. In Rwanda’s local language Kinyarwanda, KEZA describes something beautiful and is a term of endearment. It’s not about the beads here; it’s not about the jewelry. It is about what each bead represents, each bead is a piece of the stories of their lives. We are taking society’s trash and making into something beautiful to share with the world. And through each necklace a woman is discovering the beauty inside of her. She is making something beautiful and valued, just as she is beautiful and valued. Each bead represents a jewel in a crown of beauty…as we exchange beauty and hope and joy and praise for their ashes.Each accomplishment made represents a drop of the oil of gladness, which we have traded for mourning. Each necklace represents the garments of praise these women put on daily as they leave their despair behind.

Each time I am with the sisters I encounter these realities I describe. The promises God made through Isaiah are coming true for these women, and I am constantly awed by the glory in each of their smiles.

I hope that the wearers of our necklaces will encounter the story each piece beholds.

New Treasure Center, New Hope

2008-03-10T19:21:00.002+03:00

March is here and I can hardly believe it. The first 2 months of 2008 have been as crazy as the year has been fast for Sisters of Rwanda. Upon Jared’s return to Rwanda, we were kindly asked to leave the center we had been using as a refuge, training facility, home and church for 2 years. Our Executive Director, Jared, had been away for 6 months laying the foundation for SOR in the US. He returned in January amidst a plethora of newness. New systems needed to be put into place, new women joining SOR, new problems he hadn’t seen before, new budgets, new ideas for income generation projects, new campaigns to implement, a new Country Director on the way, and now we need a new Treasure Center. Happy New Year!

Of course, these things are to be expected, and in most cases they are welcomed. And welcomed they are. With each new obstacle we are reminded of why we are here. It strips us of any pride we may have been unknowingly (or in some cases knowingly) carrying around. Things that feel crushing, send us to the best place for us to be…our knees. New ideas or ways of doing things challenge us to be better than we ever thought we could be. The storms bring us together and remind us to work and live like a family. And as the old cliché says, the struggle in all of it makes us stronger.

We’ve been looking for 2 months now, and the process has been refining. Because the Treasure Center is so important to everything we do and hope to do here in Rwanda, we were waiting and praying for a perfect place. And at last we have found a new Treasure Center, a new home for Sisters of Rwanda! It’s just a minutes walk from the church and the homes of our beloved beneficiaries. It has plenty of room for everything we are already doing, and room to grow into who we are becoming.

The Treasure Center is more than a building. It is a place of refuge for women and children. A place to cry and share stories. A place to laugh and hope for a life without abuse and humiliation. A place to satisfy the hunger in one’s belly, and more importantly, the hunger in one’s soul. A place to mend broken hearts and rebuild dignity. A place to learn. Learn English, learn to read, learn to write, learn how much you are loved, learn pottery, learn bead making, learn to create beauty out of the ashes of life.

Above all, it is a place for women and children to hope. We have found a new Treasure Center, but more importantly, we have found a new place to hope.

The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines hope the following way:

Hope: to cherish a desire with anticipation; to trust; to desire with expectation of obtainment; to expect with confidence.

And so we have found a new place to hope. A new place for abused women to cherish with anticipation the desire for justice and liberty. A new place to trust those around you with your story, your life, and your future. A new place to desire with the expectation of obtainment, love. A new place to expect with confidence that the way women are viewed in Rwanda, in Africa and in the World can and will be changed for the good.

Rwanda - A New Adventure

2008-02-07T20:20:00.001+03:00

I've arrived in Rwanda with all its beauty and splendor and ambiguity. Rwanda is bordered by Uganda in the north, so I flew into Uganda a week ago to start off my new adventure with some familiarity. I visited friends and attempted to tie up some of the loose ends I left when I said goodbye to Uganda 3 months ago, not knowing if I'd return to Africa anytime soon.

The Democratic Republic of Congo, or D.R.C., borders Rwanda to the west, Burundi to the south and Tanzania to the east. They call it the "land of a thousand hills" and one would readily agree the moment they entered the country. This place is stunning, and when I get my mind around the enormity of the beauty here I’ll try to explain it with words as best as I can. The land is green and fertile, but I wonder if fertile might also be an interesting way to describe the ambiance of society.

I say this about the people, not just because this country is so densely populated, but because it feels as though there is something just under the surface of life here waiting to emerge. I haven't been here long enough to attempt to understand, but my guess (which perhaps is simply stating the obvious) would be that the fertile atmosphere has everything to do with this country's complex and tragic history. It is as if any kind of seed could be dropped into this place and it would grow. Which means there is a tremendous amount of opportunity for one to plant life giving seeds for our fellow human beings here. I believe we as human beings we carry in each of us the ability to birth life or death into our surroundings and into each other. I believe we do this with every decision we make and with every thought we think.

The challenge I give myself then is this: How am I going to plant seeds in this place? And what kind of seeds do I plant? I don't know if I have much to offer these striking people. I don’t come to Rwanda with the attitude that I’ve got life figured out and should help others do the same. I don’t come thinking that my Americanism is what Africa needs. I don't speak Kinyarwanda or French. I am not Rwandan so while I will try, I will never fully understand this complex yet beautiful culture. I do, however, come with a longing to understand how the world works. I do come with a curiosity about the differences that make each of us who we are.

And so I am here to serve the incredible and resilient women of Sisters of Rwanda (www.sistersofrwanda.org)(Sisters of Rwanda no longer exists - however, Jared and I founded KEZA in its place). A group of women who are used and abused by society and virtually left to die. This group of women here in Rwanda, represent to me, women who are entrapped in sex slavery all over the world. I am also here help develop a revolution (or "seed" if you will) that suggests we see each other as fellow human beings, all worthy of being treated as such. A revolution to raise up a generation of people, MEN and WOMEN who do not tolerate gender based violence, or any violence for that matter. A revolution to raise up a generation of MEN who protect and edify women. A revolution to raise up a generation of WOMEN who understand their important role in the world and whose voices are heard. A revolution that promotes gender equality within this society and throughout the world. (www.ubunturevolution.blogspot.com)

So here I am. I have arrived in Rwanda. I am constantly aware that I am awkward and insecure in my own skin here. And really intimidated by my lack of understanding. Yet the familiarity of Africa consoles me in my fear. Kigali is certainly unique, yet I’m finding a consistency in African cities the more I travel. I am so happy to be here. I think I feel this way every time I travel to a new city. The ambiguity felt in a new place is thrilling and exhausting. I admire those who can jump into these unfamiliar situations and feel quite at home. Perhaps one day I'll get there.

Right now though, all of me wants to hide and watch Rwandan life from afar. And at the same time all of me wants to cannon ball right into the middle of it all, make a big splash, find my way to the surface, and then laugh at the fantastic absurdity of it all.

Resilience (a poem about courage & the power of hope)

2008-01-25T04:23:00.001+03:00

Fear. Tears. Blood.

Yet I am here, still.

Hunger, it hurts. Thirst, unquenchable.

Yet I am here, still.

Ache.

Yet I am here, still.

There is nothing.

Yet I am here, still.

Betrayed. It is unnecessary.

Yet I am here, still.

Do you know what I've done?

Yet I am here, still.

I do not want to acknowledge what I have seen.

There is not enough room in my heart for all of that pain.

Yet I am here, still.

Broken.

Yet I am here, still.

I risk hoping.

Thus I am here, still.

packing light

2008-01-12T20:11:00.002+03:00

Failure, guilt, bitterness, and fear, I'm learning, prove to be about as useful as a suitcase full of rocks. All it really does is weigh you down. And these feelings, like rocks, add no value to your trip, your adventure...your journey. They bring nothing to your destination but what they are...a suitcase full of rocks.

And they're heavy.

I have a rather large suitcase full of rocks. I've been carrying it around for years. Literally. I think I was about 4 years when I picked up the first rock and put it, quite naturally, into my first little suitcase. I believe that first rock was guilt. 23 years later my suitcase is pretty full.

I'm quite attached to my rocks, I'm learning. They've been with me as long as I can remember, and I'm not sure I know what to do without them. Or how to get rid of them. But I'm tired of carrying this lifeless thing around. It's heavy. Sometimes it makes me not want to explore all that there is to discover in this life. I'm tired, I no longer care to add to its contents, nor do I wish to continue carrying what's inside.

So my resolution this year: I will pack light. Or I should say, I'll attempt to pack lighter. Anyone who knows me, knows that I ALWAYS over pack. I'm always worried about running out or not being prepared. So this resolution has its physical manifestation, I will literally try not to bring so much stuff. And its heart manifestation, I'll get rid of my rocks.

I am letting go.

Don't worry, I know how idealistic it sounds. I'm being realistic at the same time. I will still feel. But I don't need to collect rocks and stow them away for keeps. I will feel anger, and I will feel pain. But my hope is that my tears will not turn to rocks for me to carry. But rather, that they will roll off my cheeks like a faithful tear should after a good cry.

I will travel light, but I'll still travel. This year I hope to pack strength and courage. Joy and love. Hope and lofty ideals.

i laugh...

2007-12-04T03:28:00.000+03:00

student at Lwani Memorial College in Atiak Uganda

“I laugh, I love, I hope, I try, I hurt, I need, I fear, I cry. And I know you do the same things too, So we're really not that different, me and you.”

season's change...

2007-10-11T16:04:00.000+03:00

I’m coming to the end of my second year in Uganda, and as all of you know, it’s been full of joy, sorrow, frustration, growth and discovery. I have discovered so much about the world, about Africa, about God, about friendship, about life and about death, and about me. Every moment of my time here has been full and it seems that every minute I have been learning.

I'm heading home in 2 weeks. I can't believe it. I'm prepping myself for the end of my time here in Uganda. In a word, I'm heartbroken. I actually don’t know for sure if my time here in Uganda is over, but I need to prepare as it is a likely possibility. I’m leaving on good terms, but for me personally I'll leave with a broken heart. It’s been a long year of tiresome endless work to get a title for the land that we are purchasing in Northern Uganda. Thank you for all of you who have faithfully supported us in prayer. This land will be the permanent home for Restore Academy, and we are just around the corner from reaching that monumental goal. While Restore has decided not to send me back unless we attain the land title, everything Restore is doing now will continue to be pursued by a new volunteer who came to Uganda about a month ago. He is an amazing young man and I have full confidence that he will do an extra-ordinary job here in Uganda, and that each kid that passes through Restore Academy will know that they are loved. In the end what is most important to me is that the vision of restoring hope and life to youth is implemented here in Uganda. It is the kids I care most about and adore with all my heart, so it does not matter if it’s me or someone else implementing the vision as long as it’s carried out.

Last year I wrote to all of you that I am up for anything, ready to “let go in reckless confidence all that frightens me with the uncertainty of tomorrow” (Brennan Manning). A year later and I still haven’t quite figured out this reckless confidence thing but I have learned a lot about letting go and I’m pretty sure God is teaching me how to have reckless confidence in Him. I’m still up for anything, even if it means being broken hearted for a time. A friend shared a compelling quote with me recently, it says “…our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways and truer answers...”. And so, I'm just trying to keep smiling and not grow bitter by my brokenness, but rather keep loving people no matter what. I’m trying to trust God and finish the work God has given me for this season of my life faithfully. I feel more gratitude than words can express to have been able to be here at all, and am doing my best to embrace the changing seasons of life with grace and integrity, knowing that nothing is certain in this life except God Himself.

frustrations.

2007-10-04T15:26:00.000+03:00

Let us not be defeated by these frustrations we face. Let us instead pour our energy into compassion for all the people we encounter. As I look into the eyes of people, of old men and women, their deep sorrow melts away my anger and yet increases my frustration for their loss at the same time. As we move forward, let us continue praying and fighting in the heavenlies for a vision that sets our brothers and sisters and children free. May we remember for whom that vision is for and from Whom it came from. And let us look into the eyes of those who SEEK something from us as Jesus did the woman who touched His cloak desperate for healing. Let us ACCEPT those who frustrate us as Jesus did those who interrupted his dinner parties with tears at His feet. And let us FORGIVE those who are against us as Jesus did we who hung Him on the cross. For without His heart, we have nothing to offer.

Come Sit With Me (a short story)

2007-10-02T03:15:00.000+03:00

My name is Nyero. I am a young man. Newly married, eager to care for my new bride and start a family of my own. The dirt I stand on has been faithful to my father and to my father’s father, and to my grandfather’s father. This soil has given me life, it has birthed the materials for my home, and it has covered my dead. I grew up playing in this mud with my closest friends. They have always been by my side. The brother I follow knows my deepest desires, my most intimate fears, my most secret secrets. He sees my strengths more clearly than I ever will. I cannot imagine life without him. Father has raised me here in Acholi land, with my brothers and sisters. Teaching us how to dig, teaching us how to care for the soil. Helping us to understand the complexities of the nature that sustains our livelihood. If we pay attention and follow in his footsteps we won’t ever be hungry. Father and Mother work tirelessly, from them I learn devotion. The land is faithful. Our families will always be provided for. Acholi Land has never been better. Our schools are among the best in the country. We are flourishing as a people. We are strong and we are dignified.

My bride is young and the two of us hardly know each other. Yet I feel so much for her that there is an actual physical ache in my chest when I think of her. At the site of her my heart might actually stop. At her scent my desire grows so intense I can’t see straight. How is it possible to feel so strongly yet have no idea how to describe this feeling?

There are rumors of a rebellion in the south…

Our village is warm and peaceful. All is as it should be. I’ve witnessed a lot over the years. Father has told me countless stories of the first white men in our land. They have divided our tribes and families. But we are a strong people. We have persevered as they have attempted to take our land and change our ways. This land will yet feed me and my clan, just as it always has. What is this word the white man uses? Poverty? Poor? He says it over and over, yet I’m not sure what he is getting at and why he is so insistent on changing us. It’s as if he thinks something is wrong with our people. My clan elders are old and wise. From them I learn of the strength and history of our people.

It is the early 1990’s and alas I understand War’s power. Its destruction has eaten away my hopes. My friends and the brother I follow lay dead at the hand of a rebel. This rebel is one of us who says he fights for our freedom, yet his violence has instead enslaved. We can trust no one. The government soldiers and the rebels are somehow similar. I do not understand. This camp does protect us, this camp does not feed us. Our land is only a short walk away, yet even it is untouchable. It no longer cures the ache of the hunger consuming my family. The land cannot heal the pain this war has created in my deepest heart. Yet I must remain strong, I have a family to care for. What kind of man does not, can not protect his family and feed his own children?

This war has stolen our children. All that remains are the cries of their wailing mothers and the sound of their screams in our heads. What is life without children? There is no life at all, only desolate hearts aching for their return. Who will follow us? Who will carry on our traditions? Who will be left standing when we pass away? And where have they taken our children? They have been taken in the night. Most do not return, and those that do no longer have life dancing in their eyes. Instead they carry with them a darkness I cannot understand. Our people are a people of dancing, dancing bodies, dancing hearts, dancing eyes. Our children’s bodies know how to dance, but their hearts do not. Their eyes are weary. We are a dancing people, yet we do not dance any more.

My heart is weary. I too am tired of war. I am tired of our children being taken and I am tired of our women being abused. I am tired of our men being defeated by the daily struggle to live. What kind of people will our children grow up to be? Those in the bush do not know the love of a Mother or Father. They have no respect for their elders. We are a tired people. Our men drink to forget. I cannot blame them, I too drink to forget. But I cannot forget. I fear the world has forgotten us.

And now the white man is back. This time he comes with the words “aid” and “development” and “NGO” and “charity”. They dig wells for water and pits for waste, but there is never enough. They hand out food, but we are still hungry. They speak of health and sanitation, but these ideals have somehow been buried with our murdered families. They talk of education, but we left our schools in the villages long ago. The replacement schools are overcrowded and our teachers are tired. White people talk to us about a lot of things, but I fear they do not understand. All we truly want is peace. They live here in Uganda, but they do not live with us. They drive fancy cars, but they do not walk with us. They cannot understand the dignity our people once bore. They do not know how our hearts used to dance. Instead of trying to understand us, they pity us. Instead of talking with us, they talk to us. And we do not expect they ever will understand, for they do not care to ask.

So they give and we take. This is how the relationship is. All we have to give them is our time. All we have to give is what is left of ourselves. But they do not have time for our time. They do not want what is left of us. They do not ask us to share what we have to offer.

So they give and we take. Their intentions are good. Perhaps they think we have nothing to give back. Perhaps they simply don’t want it.

I am confused by these do-gooders. They have only ever passed out goods, and we have accepted their gifts gratefully. I wonder if they know that it pains us to not work for our daily bread. They give and we take and the air is thick with a bitterness. It’s as if they resent us for receiving what they have offered. Isn’t this the system they have created for us to live in? In order to survive we had to take what they had to give. Our dignity is still melting away. Can’t they see we are human just like them? I am clothed daily in my desperation. It is all I have known for countless years. Though I despise it, I cannot seem to escape.

And now, I’ve finally seen the beautiful face of Hope. She was lost for so long. It seemed Suffering would be my only friend unto my death. But Hope is back, and she has brought Joy with her. She says Peace is on her way, and she has introduced a new friend named Grace. I do not know these friends well yet, and I’m not sure if I can fully trust them, but I welcome them with my entire being. My only wish is that they are here to stay. All I ask of my new friends is that they stay. That they stay and befriend our children. That our children may grow up knowing them. Perhaps these new friends will help our children forget Suffering and Fear. Suffering and Fear have worn us out, maybe these new friends will refresh us.

My name is Nyero. I am an old man now. If you have time I will sit and tell you my story.

learning to hope

2007-08-24T16:36:00.000+03:00

"I look out today, and I don't see the same people I saw 2 months ago." says Mzee Denis, Restore Academy's English and Literature teacher, as he looked into the faces of our students. "I see doctors, lawyers, teachers, politicians, people who will stand next to those in Washington DC. In less than 2 months you people have changed and grown. As you break for the holiday, don't walk away and forget who you are. Remember who you are becoming..." I was moved to tears as he commissioned these young people to believe in themselves.

On June 11, 2007, we started Restore Academy with 3 students and 7 teachers. Our goal was to have 30 students. I bit my lip as I sat with our teachers. I was worried. " We can't have more teachers than students." I said, unsure if I was doing a good job hiding the panic in my voice. I tried to sound encouraging and optimistic. My heart sank as our head teacher, Mr. Peter Okot, showed me the registration list. 11 students registered. We're only 19 students short of our goal, I thought to myself. "The students will come Madame, " Peter assured me, his joyful spirit exuding from his every breath. "When will they come? What more can we do? How can we spread the word?" I pleaded, as I gazed into wide eyes examining me calmly. I imagine they were wondering what they had gotten themselves into. Though Peter had spent weeks hosting community meetings about the new school, I commissioned them to make flyer's, go to villages, go to camps, go to churches...to do whatever they could to get more students in our little school.

Who would blame the community for being hesitant? After all, we were starting a secondary school in the middle of June, a month into the 2nd term of the year. The only building we could find in the same vicinity of our building site for the permanent school was a tiny 3 room unfinished store in some one's front yard. Our 3 classrooms are 1/4 of the size of a normal classroom, with no electricity, and the latrines out back were still being dug. We needed to rent a temporary building close to the community that our student body would ultimately reflect. This little unfinished building, fully equipped with Grandma sitting under the mango tree and chickens everywhere, was the best, well really the only option. And such is the humble beginning of Restore Academy Secondary School in Northern Uganda.

August 18, 2007, I stood before 60 Restore Academy students listening to Denis, Peter and the other teachers tell the students how far they had come in so little time. Our school literally exploded. In less than 1 week after my panicked plea to the teachers, we had 39 kids registered...a couple days later the number of students doubled again. Today we've got 100 students registered. Our student body is made up of former child soldiers, girls left with babies and painful memories of being abducted to be wives of soldiers. All of our students are IDP's, Internally Displaced People, refugees within their own country. All of our students bear burdens they are too young to carry. But their sad stories don't stop them from smiling. These kids walk miles to attend class at Restore Academy, their first hope for education in years. They dare to believe they can pick up where they left off so many years ago. They are learning to learn again.

The vision of Restore Academy is to raise up a new generation of leaders for this country Uganda, for this continent Africa. We will remind them that tribal and religious differences don't matter as much as them respecting each other as brothers and sisters. Unity amongst themselves is of utmost importance. We will remind them to believe not only in themselves as individuals, but in each other as well. We will teach them how to respect, honor, and love themselves and others. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control -these are the principles we hope will emanate from our school walls.

To the students I said, "We are here because we believe in you, we believe you can be the types of people God created you to be, no matter what you've done or been through." I meant every word. Though they are the students, I think I am the one being taught. I'm learning how people can overcome anything. I'm learning that given the opportunity people will rise to the level of expectation. I'm learning that teachers may just have the most important job in the world. I'm learning how much believing in someone spurs them on. But I'm most grateful that, thanks to these students, we are learning how to hope.

Click here to see pictures of Restore Academy: http://picasaweb.google.com/ilea65/LearningToHopeRestoreAcademy

On joy and sorrow...

2007-05-03T11:24:00.000+03:00

I did not write the following entry, but a friend recently shared it with me, and now I simply want to share it with you. It's from a book called The Prophet. Enjoy...

" Then a woman said, "Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow."
And he answered: Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. And the same well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears. And how else can it be? The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain. Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven? And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives? When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater." But I say unto you, they are inseparable. Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed. Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy. Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced. When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, need must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall."

An unlikely friendship.

2007-04-13T01:37:00.000+03:00

Whoever said that beauty dwells in the eye of the beholder was genius. Even though it was likely meant to taken in a positive light, I'm learning there may be more to that phrase than I ever realized. Lately, the validity of my own perspective has been consistently challenged. I find it intriguing to watch a man cover his red clay bricks during a sudden rain storm. The ease of his perfection in the way he places the plastic. The determination and pride in his seemingly simple work. Yet to him this could be a matter of his family eating or not. The outcome of this task will determine if his hours of hard work will profit him anything in the end, or if the rain, in which I am enjoying from my balcony with a cup of hot tea, has just robbed him of everything.

Life seems to work in these common contradicting extremes. Something I perceive as inspiring, exists as a determinant between life and death. External simplicity hides the complex reality below the surface. Wealth reflects poverty. A slave works endlessly for a profit never to be grasped. The displaced are trapped within an intoxicating view they can no longer see. War creates an overwhelming ache for peace. And peace incongruously leaves a void for conflict, a release from some built up anger inside. The abused become the abusers. And history relives itself in the present future.

I'm not sure what to do with these thoughts, they leave a lot of unanswered questions. However there is one more contradiction I'm faced with daily. It is the unlikely friendship between Suffering and Joy. They actually do hold hands I think. Not to say that Despair and Hopelessness are not also close friends of Suffering, they certainly are. Despair is as real as Suffering and as powerful as Joy. And Hopelessness is as deadly to life as anything. Yet I’m learning that the smallest seed of Hope can evoke the greatest power of all. Just a shy smile from her and Joy explodes existence. And even when Joy is holding hands with Suffering, I find her beautiful.

justice.

2007-03-29T21:13:00.000+03:00

“…restoring justice to children and the poorest of the poor” is the mission of the organization I work for.

Justice isn’t just a good guy vs. bad guy legal term that is determined in a courtroom with lawyers and judges. One dictionary describes justice as “fairness or reasonableness, especially in the way people are treated or decisions are made”.

Sometimes justice means communities are supplied with access to clean water, because nobody should have to die of thirst. Sometimes justice means educating kids and empowering them with them a sense of purpose, because they’ve been witness to countless abuses to humanity and they may not know how much purpose theyhold within themselves. Sometimes justice means taking a young girl out of a bad situation in order to love her, give her a glimpse of hope for her future, and teach her that although the world has abused her, she matters. Her existence is meaningful to the Life of the world. And sometimes it means inspiring a disillusioned power on the bridge of corruption that their contribution to their community and the world is needed. Their wisdom should be shared, and their hard work brings life to those it touches. And sometimes justice means freeing people from the slavery that is still so prevalent in this world we live in.

Kindness, goodness, generosity, love, joy, peace, patience, self-control. The author of a book called Galatians teaches that against such things there is no law. But I'm learning that in most places, there is no law that protects, inspires, or teaches such things. Nonetheless, there is always a place for such things – such things encapsulate justice. And there is always a place for this thing we call justice.

Back to Uganda

2007-02-01T21:23:00.000+03:00

I have just returned to Uganda – for those of you I haven't talked to in a long time, I'll be here this time for a year.

I was surprised when I landed. Surprised at how familiar everything looked, sounded…smelled. From the plane, the landscape greeted me with a colorful smile. The earth is deep red, the thick bush, green. The sky – more enormous here than I've ever noticed…blue. The yellow sun magnifies it all. It sounds simple yes, but it's as though when God painted the earth He dropped a bit more paint in this part of the world, and the color is so rich you can't help but stare as you take it all in. As you step off the plane, the air grabs you with its warm stickiness, like an old friend embracing you with a hug.

I starred out the window of my car silently, taken aback at how much peace was in my heart. I really didn't expect it to feel so much like home…home for now at least. As I've mentioned before, I am learning that no place on earth may ever feel 100% like home. However, I know that I am exactly where God wants me now. I don't know long it will be Uganda, but I'm ok with not knowing. Kidogo, kidogo…little by little.

I don't think I've ever made a New Year's Resolution. But I did this year. My resolution – to floss. Don't laugh, I'm serious. But it's a little deeper than my dental hygiene. It denotes attention to detail and purity. On the surface I want to do all the things we Americans want at the beginning of each new year. But more than that, below my shallowness, I hope to take in more of life happening around me. I want to be as aware of each person in my life, more sensitive and compassionate to my neighbors. I want to notice strangers, and look into their eyes. I know I'll never understand it all. And the old cliché rings true…the more you learn, the more you realize you don't know. It turns out though, not understanding might not be as heartbreaking as I once thought. I hope to embrace the challenge of pressing forward, even though I don't understand why things happen, or how some issues could actually be resolved. Even if sometimes it means that I'm walking blindly – holding on to nothing that I know or comprehend. But I hope to keep walking nonetheless.

As I contemplate where I am, compare it to where I was a year ago, and wonder what this year beholds…I pray you are Touched in a new way this year.
May you be full of…brokenness that leads you to joy,
May you be full of…forgiveness that leads you to healing,
May you be full of…humility that leads you to love,
May you be full of…love that leads you to faith,
May you be full of…truth that leads you to laugh because you are free.

And may you never be comfortable because your heart is always being stirred to something increasingly wonderful.

Happy New Year.

some thoughts on some things

2006-11-28T11:25:00.000+03:00

I'm beginning to understand how true it is, that we may never quite "feel" at home while we are here on earth…no matter where we're from, nor where faith takes us. I feel somewhat settled here in Uganda, yet at the same time somewhat unsettled that it's starting to feel like a home here. I recently learned that I'll be here for at least another year working for Restore International – I'm both thrilled and scared. Not terrified, not full of fear, but a little uneasy about being gone for another year only because I do not know what it means for my life. I mean, I can't imagine my life any other way – I can't imagine doing anything else, I absolutely love my job. I guess there are just so many uncertainties. At the same time that I feel scared about what it means, there is a freedom in not worrying about it – in truly being able to say to God that I'm His and He can use me in any way He wants, for whatever He wants, for however long He wants to. Reckless abandonment is how Brennan Manning puts it. I'm not sure if I'm truly recklessly abandoned – but I hope to be one day. Kidogo kidogo – is Swahili, for little by little. I've repeated this phrase shamelessly over the last month. I've been forced to slow down, things are slow here, but in typical American fashion I'm just as busy as ever. As fatigue sets in, I have no choice but to really look inward and upward. So many unresolved issues still haunt my heart. So many uncried tears are surfacing as I try to process the things I've seen these last 6 months. I don't understand any of it – so much of what I've seen and come to realize does not make sense to me – and it hurts. It hurts to see people hurt. It hurts to see people suffer. It hurts to feel helpless in a situation that is so overwhelming. It hurts to encounter the hopeless…to search in the eyes of someone, and not see a glimmer of hope.

It hurts to be taken advantage of, but I don't blame them. It hurts to realize how cynical I've become…always on guard, trusting few, and constantly expecting that I'll be tricked, somehow. It's a horrible lens to view people through. I feel like as much as I've been deceived, I'm also deceiving b/c of what is going on in my head when someone is talking to me these days. I suppose this is part of the learning curve, I've heard that it's a natural process. I'm told I will always be viewed as a foreigner who is "rich". This reality is tough to swallow, though likely not as tough as the reality that drives people to hopelessness.

I know there is a Greater Reality, but I must admit I sometimes forget.

At the same time I'm processing these strange things, I'm surrounded by beauty – and I'm not so disenchanted that I can't see that the beauty is all around me. People are amazing in their resilience to the beatings of the world. I'm learning of this resilience too. People are beautiful in their suffering, perhaps b/c their vulnerability is exposed, masks removed, and authenticity shines. I'm learning about joy. It is hard enough for me to comprehend my first hand experience, much less explain via email, the transformation I've witnessed in the girls we've rescued. Its best described as a resurrection – they literally come back to life – and I've had the unanticipated privilege to witness this. Empty eyes turn to dancing wells of the laughter incessantly bubbling from somewhere deep within. Angry stares turn to contagious smiles. The voiceless become an earful, a constant earful of chatter, whimsical nonsense, and endless praise. Really, it may sound as though I'm painting an idealistic picture – how could a girl who's been raped, abused, abandoned, used and left to die turn into one of these joyful creations I'm describing? I ask myself the same thing almost everyday, I don't get it either. If you ask one of them, they'll tell you without hesitation that it all can be attributed to Love, to Grace, to Mercy. Or how about the lady who cleans my house? She's a widow with 7 children minus one who died. Her husband and son died in the same year, one from HIV/AIDS and one from a disease Americans haven't had to worry about for half a century. She left her village to come to Kampala to raise 6 children on her own b/c her late husband's family took everything they owned and tried to marry off her 13 year old daughter. She too is HIV positive, yet comes to work faithfully, always on time, greets me with a shy childlike smile…and works harder and with more joy than most people I've encountered.

There is so much I don't understand. I'm unsure about a lot of things. Not unsure of God's existence, but unsure of what His existence looks like in my life. Not unsure of salvation, or grace, or mercy. But what do these things look like – from the outside in. I'm not making sense. I guess my question really is... what does it mean to be a Christian? I could answer in all the shallow ways we learn at Sunday school, but it would leave me unsatisfied.

I know God loves the world... perhaps, it's just that simple.

My experience has only begun.
There is much more to learn, so much more to see. More suffering, more questions, more to not understand.

And there is more beauty, more joy, more authenticity, more grace, more mercy and more love.

I look forward to the journey.

can't sleep.

2006-08-18T11:52:00.000+03:00

I tried to go to bed an hour ago I took a shower, cleaned my room, got in bed. But I can't sleep. I can not stop thinking about a couple of stories I heard today...

A young girl, abandoned by her parents and living with her grandmother was getting help from a teacher after school one day. He raped her. At age 13 this was her first sexual encounter. Her grandmother didnt believe her story, so she left to live with her uncle. Unable to care for her, he married her off and she before long was pregnant with her first child. After giving birth to her third child by age 16, she left because she was tired of being abused at home. Succumbing to the need to survive, she became a prostitute.

Next was the story of a young girl whose parents died when she was 13. She was raped by an ex-soldier on the street. She got pregnant at age 14 and dropped out of school to take care of her and her baby. She too wound up on the streets, selling her body in order to survive.

One young girl was found, gang raped, beaten and left on the road to die.

And the newest edition to our family is pregnant because her "client" refused to use protection. She is 13 years old.

Tonight I read through 12 more files on girls just like this. All with similar stories.

This month we launched a partnership with a Ugandan organization that rescues and rehabilitates child prostitutes. Its called Rahab Project and our vision is to restore hope in seemingly hopeless lives by taking these girls into a home and loving them with all we have. They no longer have to kill themselves in order to survive. We plan to house them, feed them, counsel them, educate them and love them as best as we can.

We have about 17 girls, the youngest in 9 the oldest is 24. They are our family now.
This business is heart wrenching. The more I learn the more disgusted I become with the atrocities people suffer. I cry with each girl as they re-live their past in order to share their stories. But you know what touches me most with these kids? Their resilience. I've shared with you guys already, how incredible my encounters with suffering people have been. Well it continues as I meet each of our girls and try to learn what it is that gets their hearts pumping, what feeds their faith, gives them strength, makes them smile. They are growing, and learning, and recovering.

They have hope - it oozes from their souls - and touches mine.