People repeat this frequently; I heard it when I was growing up and I hear it now. It is meant to be a source of encouragement, and it would be if I believed it were true.
But I don’t.
I believe that God totally, absolutely, intentionally gives us more than we can handle. Because this is when we surrender to Him and He takes over, proving Himself by doing the impossible in our lives.
This past year, God has given me eight more children than I can handle. He has given me an impossible number of dollars to raise to meet this need that He placed on my heart. He has asked me to do things I thought would surely break me.
God gave me a family and a home that I didn’t expect; and once I had completely fallen in love with them, I had to leave. I thought these four long months apart from my children would certainly be impossible to bear, and while they have been at times excruciating, they have been blessed and even beneficial. And in just a few short days they will be over! I will be reunited with my darling family; we did it!
During these four months friendships that I could not have imagined have developed. I have been loved and served and helped by the most wonderful people. I have grown and fallen even deeper in love with my Savior. And we have raised the money needed for the coming year.
I have learned to accept it, even ask for it, this “more than I can handle.” Because in these times, God shows Himself victorious. He reminds me that all of this life requires more of Him and less of me. God does give us more than we can handle. Not maliciously, but intentionally, in love, that His glory may be displayed, that we may have no doubt of who is in control, that people may see His grace and faithfulness shining through our lives.
And as I surrender these situations to Him, watch Him take over and do the impossible, I am filled with joy and peace—so much more than I can handle.
12
A GLIMPSE OF HEAVEN
My taxi from Entebbe airport jostled its way down the bumpy road to my house. A short distance from home, I felt the jolt as people jumped on it from all sides. My children! I could hardly open the door of the taxi to climb out and greet them for all the excitement. Once I did, I couldn’t keep my balance because my ecstatic girls were squeezing me, kissing me, and clamoring all over one another. We ran and skipped and jumped down the road, all the way home, with a most bewildered taxi driver following us.
I’d been away from Uganda for only four months, but it felt like a lifetime. I didn’t have words to adequately express the deep joy I felt over being home. It was as if I could finally breathe again.
My family had grown again, about a week before I returned from the States. I received a call one day, letting me know that Prossy and Margaret had a biological sister named Hellen, who was eight years old and lived in an orphanage not far from our home. The three girls had never lived together and had seen each other only a few times, but I could not bear the thought of this young girl living so close to, yet isolated from, her sisters. Christine went to the orphanage and inquired about Hellen, then brought her to live at our house just before I came home.
Tall, bright-eyed, and easygoing, Hellen bounced into our lives a perfect fit, as if she had always been a part of the family. Hellen is naive and charming. She trusts quickly and loves deeply. Free-spirited, spunky, and outgoing, she is quick to make friends and to make people laugh with her expressiveness and animation. Hellen is stubborn and strong willed but almost always full of joy and was a delightful addition to our family.
On the night of my return, no one in our house could settle down. Everything about our home and all the people in it pulsed with excitement and happiness. After midnight, the girls all piled into my bed and sleep finally began to claim them, one by one. I was the last person awake and though completely exhausted, I lay under my mosquito net, smiling at the thought of their unbridled enthusiasm when they saw me.
“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Welcome home!” they shouted.
This must be a glimpse of heaven, I mused. The angels shouting our names and Jesus saying “Welcome home.”
With that thought, I drifted off to sleep.
I couldn’t have been happier to awaken in my own bed the next morning. The girls and I immediately fell back into our old routine, which, on that day, meant I made twenty-eight pieces of cinnamon toast for breakfast. I reveled in the chance to bathe nine little girls, rub lotion into their beautiful brown skin, change sheets, do laundry, mop floors, jump rope, dance, sing, and color, smiling my way through every activity of the day. By dinnertime all of us were still in our pajamas, and we ended the day by watching Charlotte’s Web. The girls thought the idea of a talking pig was the most hysterical thing and we literally fell asleep laughing.
I spent the next few weeks walking around the six villages our program serves, visiting our children and even adding some. Visiting the villages is always pure joy for me. I relish being surrounded by the raw human need that seems to be on display everywhere, a true reminder of our immense need for a God and Savior. I stand in awe of the gratitude and happiness people express over their simple lives. Their neediness keeps them so dependent on God, and among them I always feel so very close to His heart. After four months in the “clean” culture of the United States, I was thrilled to be sweaty and dirty, with dozens of filthy hands pulling my arms in opposing directions. My heart thrived in the humble villages and huts of Uganda. “Welcome home, Katie,” I said to myself.
While in the States I had raised enough money to add a few more children to our program (miraculously, we even had the $70,000 we needed to keep the program going for another year). We grew from sponsoring 156 children to sponsoring 202. Two hundred two precious young ones who have experienced more hurt and hardship than I can imagine; 202 children Jesus knows by name and delights to call “Mine.” As the money came in, I sent word to Oliver to be looking for the children who most desperately needed the help we could provide. The school year in Uganda begins in February, so I wanted the assessments of the families done and the children signed up for the program as soon as possible.
When we assess a family to consider sponsorship for their children, we collect basic information such as the number of people in the family, how many of those people are children, and whether the primary caregiver is capable of holding a job or not (some caregivers are quite elderly or ill). We also determine whether they have electricity, access to clean water, and food to eat. Our goal at Amazima is to provide services to the neediest children, so part of our assessment includes verifying that the family genuinely needs our help.
Near the end of January, within the first two weeks I was back in Uganda, the time came to distribute school supplies to the children in our program. Eager children came to receive their supplies the way some people would receive gold or jewels. We gave out 1,740 books, 864 pencils, 54 rulers, protractors, and erasers, 100 boxes of colored pencils, 220 toothbrushes and tubes of toothpaste, 1,100 bars of soap, and 568 rolls of toilet paper.
I was amazed as I looked at those who had been in our program for the past year. They looked much healthier and happier. They were stronger, cleaner, and in most cases children who now knew Jesus. And I knew that the children joining us for the first time would, a year from now, look much different from the way they looked that day. The sight of beautiful children from extreme poverty, children filled with such potential who had made so much progress, gave me a renewed sense of purpose and energy.
One of my favorite mornings after I returned to Uganda began when my three oldest daughters, Margaret, Prossy, and Agnes, marched into my room, where I was still sleeping. “Mommy, there are children we need to help, please.”
“Okay,” I said groggily, “where?”
They took me to the abandoned house down the road. In the back room were seven children on the dirt floor. They were completely filthy and starving. The oldest was eleven and the youngest was two years old. I had never seen children so sick, and I have seen some very sick children. They all had severe ringworm, malaria
, and scabies (my favorite), among other conditions. Two of them were the skinniest human beings I had ever seen. I would estimate that both were about four and a half feet tall and about thirty-five pounds.
Of course, the girls and I took them home. I have never been so proud of my family as I was when I watched their reaction. Prossy, Margaret, and Agnes went straight to the tub to give the children baths. Mary combed their hair while Hellen and Sumini rubbed lotion on them. (By this time, we weren’t afraid of scabies anymore!) Scovia made tea. Sarah and Joyce went to their room, sifted through their clothes, and chose a new outfit for each of the children. In less than an hour, our seven neighbors were a new bunch of children—bathed, dressed, fed, and giggling.
Margaret looked at me with a twinkle in her eye and said, “Mommy, I love these children.”
“Me too, Margaret,” I said quietly.
This is what it looks like, I thought. In so many places, we sit in church and talk about compassion, unimaginable love, revival. And then an hour later, we are still sitting there talking about it. But revival is happening. Now. Compassion is working; unimaginable, selfless love is real. It is right here. My five-year-old knows how to be Jesus’ hands to others. I can stand and watch the children I have loved and cared for turn around and compassionately love and care for others.
This was one of many, many times I have watched my children embrace and welcome into our home strangers and people in need. Every time, they amaze me with their care and compassion. Today, my family claims the unwanted and unloved for Him who loves us all. How beautiful it is to watch the unwanted feel loved and important, to watch strangers become family members.
By that time, I knew that God filled my heart in moments like those to prepare me for the next moment. Leaving my thoughts behind as I helped the smallest child, a little girl named Jane, my recently filled heart shattered and my mind went to work again: She doesn’t belong to anyone. No one will claim her. How can no one want this darling baby? But God does. She is a child of the King. She belongs to a wonderful Maker, and yesterday and today, as I lay her in my bed, she belongs to me.
The next morning, I wrote in my journal the thoughts I struggled with after putting Jane to bed that night and about my great God, who spoke just the words I needed to hear.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
I don’t sleep. Last night I put seven beautiful, sick little people from the abandoned house down the road to bed in my house and it hit me like a brick: They need a mom. My initial response was, of course, “Okay. I can do that.”
And then I thought about it. Whoa. Uh-oh. Umm, God, please don’t ask me to be their mom. I mean, really? If having nine children is crazy, what is having sixteen? Nope. I can’t do it. Really. I even don’t think I have the energy to bathe and feed them all every day, God. I won’t be able to put them through school, not even in Uganda.
Ah, yes, I would like to proclaim that I always trust in God’s perfect plan for my life and I always turn everything over to God, knowing that His peace surpasses all understanding, but here is the truth of it: I freaked out. I said, “God, if you ask me to be their mom, I won’t do it. No.” And then that didn’t feel very appreciative of someone who died for me, so I said, “Okay, God, if you want me to be their mom, I want a dishwasher. Oh, and a bus.” After about an hour of this conversation, which took place aloud as I lay on the floor next to my bed, I came to my senses and decided to get into the Word (duh).
And here is what God said to me:
It’s okay to be human. I created you, I understand. Do not be afraid; do not be terrified. I am the LORD your God and I will go with you wherever you go. I will never leave nor forsake you (see Deuteronomy 31:6). Remember that my Word says you would be hard-pressed on every side, but never crushed; perplexed but not in despair, persecuted but never abandoned, discouraged but never destroyed (see 2 Corinthians 4:8–9). When you try to save your own life, your own desires, you will lose. But when you decide to put aside your desires, to lose your life for me, you will find it (see Matthew 16:25). Rest in my perfect peace. Trust me with all your heart and I will direct your path (see Proverbs 3:5–6). Sometimes I test your faith, daughter, because it develops perseverance in you, which you need to be mature and complete, not lacking in anything (see James 1:2–4). I know how much you hurt for these children; I hurt for them more. In the world you will have trouble, but take heart! I have overcome the world (see John 16:33). Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor serving me, your Father. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, and faithful in prayer. Continue to offer my hospitality to people in need and let me take care of the rest (see Romans 12:11–13).
Of course. According to Suzanne, who called after a few very frantic text messages, it’s okay to freak out every now and then.
Today the freaking out is over and though I still have no idea exactly what is going to happen, I do know what I am going to do. I am going to live day by day because today, this moment, is all I am promised. So I am going to bathe and feed and love these children, nurse them back to health and wait in hope as I watch God’s perfect plan for their lives unfold. I am going to pray over them every night and I am going to pray for a mother, an auntie, someone to love on the children. God will not leave them as orphans.
After a few weeks of having the children stay with us, we were able to make contact with their parents, who had been away looking for work. The parents were desperate to be able to care for their children, but they could not find jobs in our area. Because their financial situation was grim, they certainly couldn’t afford to pay someone to keep the children while they searched for work. When they returned, they were so thankful to find that their children had been looked after. They wanted to parent these boys and girls but still had very little money with which to provide for all the children’s needs. I quickly agreed to put them in Amazima’s sponsorship program so the parents could continue to love and care for their children without a huge financial burden. What a blessing it is to be able to tell parents that they can indeed continue to parent their children even if they lack the financial resources to do so.
Jane, the youngest child, was the only child of the seven who was not a biological child of these parents. She was the daughter of the wife’s estranged brother and her parents had run away when she was just a few months old. The family wanted to find someone to care for her, as six children already felt overwhelming to them. I really wanted them to be able to parent their own children without feeling overwhelmed. Since they both worked in a factory during the day while their older children were in school, they had no one to care for two-year-old Jane, so I offered to keep her while we tried to locate her biological mother and father.
After about a month of searching, the police declared Jane abandoned and we decided to move forward with her adoption and make her part of our family. Jane was the most lovable two-and-a-half-year-old I had ever met, and she is still a cuddler today. She is a born leader, now protecting and looking out for her new younger sisters everywhere we go. Even at four years old, she is incredibly loyal and has a beautiful, compassionate heart. She is mommy’s little helper, loving any task assigned to her that makes her feel “big.” She is also my little songbird, singing and dancing through each day.
Children just kept coming. Not only did little Jane become a joyful member of our family, but more and more children joined our sponsorship program—248, to be exact. I finally reached the point where I would have said no to more children, but I found myself simply incapable of turning away children in need and God kept giving me the money to care for them, so I kept saying yes.
My girls have come to believe that taking in strangers, sick people, and outcasts is normal. In fact, it has always been abnormal for us not to have someone, or several people, who are not part of our immediate family living with us, some who need a place to stay while recovering from illness or injury, others who need a temporary home while we look for more ideal foster care situations for them. M
y children are always conscious of the fact that they themselves have not always had a home and they are eager to share what they have. I learn more and more about the generous and compassionate heart of the Father from them every time I watch them embrace someone new. We truly love welcoming into our overflowing house people of all ages, no matter what their needs may be.
Helping to care for people and then sending them on their way healthier and more loved is part of our family’s DNA; it’s what we do. I often thank God for the opportunity to teach my children the importance of loving His people by inviting them into our home. But as I watch them welcome the newcomers with open arms, without any hesitation, judgment, or condemnation, I realize that more often than not, they are the ones teaching me.
Not long after Jane came to live with us, the girls brought to our house four children who lived in our village and ranged in age from three years to ten years. All four of them were severely burned; I could hardly look at them without feeling sick. I kept waiting for someone to show up looking for the children, but no one did. The oldest assured me that they would not be missed. When they finally felt comfortable enough to start opening up to us, I gathered that the stepmother with whom they had been living was severely abusive. The children, who had not known how to cook while their mother was still alive, were being forced to cook for themselves over an open fire, hence the burns covering their arms and legs.
Of course, after several days of love and care, medicine and bandages, nutritious food and lots of prayer, the children began to look remarkably better and were soon laughing and playing with my own girls.
After the children had been living with us for about two weeks and their burns were healing nicely, we began looking for a place for them to go. With the stepmother’s consent, we placed them in the home of our sweet, grandfatherly neighbor, Angello, and his twenty-five-year-old daughter. This kind father and daughter were more than happy to provide them with a loving family, since Amazima was providing them with education, food, and medical care. Time and time again, Christ and His body here on earth blew me away as we said yes to taking more short-term foster children into our home and local families agreed to take in these children as their own.
Kisses from Katie Page 13
