Discussions with carpenters, long boda rides, house hunting, moving into a new home, talking with the land board, talking with the government about our plans… it’s what my last couple weeks have been filled with.
Life as a missionary isn’t all it sounds like.
People imagine middle-of-nowhere-Africa, hungry children with begging eyes and outstretched hands, the missionary comes in to feed and clothe and give them Jesus.
That’s not what it is. It’s tedious, it’s hard, and it makes me wonder if I’ll ever change anything for the beautiful Onyerai village.
My feet are hurting and dirty.
I’ve walked my fair share this week.
I’ve argued prices with boda men.
The sharp grass threatens to cut my legs as we ride into the village.
The clinic takes 3-4 hours on average.
Another child has asked for a mattress and I’m left with deciding whether it’s fair for this child to get one when many more don’t have one.
A grandmother’s needs medicine that isn’t sold in Soroti, and she’s out of food again.
We buy medicine for an infected foot.
The village children are hungry- and I have no means of providing for all of them.
My heart is broken once again.
I’m tired. Tired of making decisions and tired physically.
I’m not complaining though- I love Uganda, I love the village, I love these children.
I’m breathing. Still breathing, and that’s good.
God never promises easy.
He promises to never leave us.
And He won’t.
He will not fail me.
He will not fail the hungry child.
He will not fail the grandmother.
He will not fail the sick child.
He will not fail Onyerai village.
For if our God is for us, who can stand against us?