Beautiful Christmas!

"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart with be also." Matthew 6:19-21.

The past week has been... well, insane, to say the least. I was supposed to fly out of London last Sunday (19 December) but apparently if the city gets 3 inches of snow, the airport completely shuts down. Being from Minnesota, where it's a light winter if we get 3 FEET of snow, I was unimpressed. Naturally, I worried that I wouldn't make it home in time for Christmas, and was pretty frustrated at all the chaos.

We tried to make the most of our time there, which turned out to be fun actually. We jumped on beds; we ate out at nice restaurants, splurging occasionally on red wine to accompany our meal; and we got out into the city to see the musical Wicked, which was absolutely fantastic! So, I can't really complain about being stranded on an island for four days, but I was wishing the entire time to just be home with my beautiful sisters for Christmas day.

Well, miracle of miracles (and it truly is a miracle), I flew home on Thursday! From London to Germany to Chicago to Minneapolis I flew, ecstatic and joyful the entire time. And here I am, home with my mom and my sisters and our dog and cats. Home.

We discussed how, upon re-integrating into life at home in America, culture shock would be quite probable, coming from Africa for four months. I expected it and tried to prepare myself for it, which perhaps was slightly successful. But honestly, I'm coming back into America while the entire country is obsessed with a list of things they "want" or even "need," and it really has been culture shock.

Brothers and Sisters, who cares if your Christmas shopping isn't done. The water you use just to shower every day would give life to the 884 million people in the world who do not have access to sanitary water (1/8 of the world's population). For the 1.9 billion children living and growing up in the developing world (mainly South Asia and Sub-Saharan Africa), 1 in 3 of them are without adequate shelter.

But they still smile and laugh and play. They take wooden blocks and make them into cell phones. They find old car tires and wheel them around. They come across a broken down wheelbarrow, and now they have their very own vehicle. They draw in the dirt and play soccer with deflated soccer balls.

That's more than I can say I did when I was a kid. At age 6, I wanted to draw pictures with markers in EVERY color that Crayola offered. At age 9, I wanted that mini-car that actually drove around the cul-de-sac (my neighbor had one and I was jealous). At age 12, if my soccer ball lost a little air, it was time for a new one. At age 16, I wanted that phone that could take pictures and video and cost $100. And I still do it. I go to the mall, and I want a new dress (even though I have plenty of cute ones in my closet) or a new pair of shoes (even though I'm currently wearing shoes). And this is all after I've SEEN children with no clothes. Little girls with nothing to cover themselves. Little boys with bloody gashes on their feet because they have no shoes. This is all after I've seen babies on the verge of death because they don't get proper nutrition.

America. We have everything at our disposal, and oh, how good we are at disposing of things. We use what we want right when we want it, and we get rid of it when we're finished with it.

Take a step back this Christmas. Enjoy giving gifts, and be merry, but think for a moment about just how blessed we are. You can look out your window at the beautiful snow-covered trees, or you can look into your childrens' smiling eyes and healthy faces, and you can see the infinite beauty of God's majesty. You are breathing. Living. You are a gift. You are such a gift. As are those children and families living with nothing in the third world.

It's time we realize that WE are often the answer to our own prayers. We are change. We have the means to restore the lives of the broken; to feed the starving, to hug the orphan, to house the widow. It begins with eager hearts and educated minds. It begins with you and with me. It might sound crazy, but what if we started a revolution this Christmas season? What if we didn't give in to the materialism (including the after-Christmas sales) and we created a beautiful change for another person?

Merry Christmas, Readers. I hope it's a beautiful one for you. Love is still winning, and hope is still here, and change is not only coming... it's happening. Let's go.

(To read facts and stats I've used, click here http://www.globalissues.org/article/26/poverty-facts-and-stats).

Let Justice Roll.

This is Betty. She's fourteen years old and weighs 25 pounds. She has severe CP and a big overbite, so it's really hard for her to eat, which could potentially partially explain her malnutrition. The good news is... she's currently living at the Serving His Children house in Jinja, Uganda (www.servinghischildreninuganda.blogspot.com). She's getting the nutrition she needs to grow, and she smiles and laughs. I fell in love with her just during the two and a half days I was there... I can't wait to see pictures of her when she's bigger and stronger!

This is Joellia. She's seven years old and, like Betty, weighs 25 pounds. She doesn't walk or talk or look you in the eye when you talk to her... but just six months ago, she was healthy and attending school. She's also living at the SHC house in Jinja, getting proper nutrition and care. Since she arrived there, her rigid little body has relaxed a bit. She's still holding on to life. I don't know how, but she is.

How does this happen? Why is malnutrition and starvation a problem in our world? Don't we know better than to let this continue? Praise the Lord that these two girls are getting what they need. What can we do to fight this?

I don't really even know what to say in this blog. I can't write about it eloquently, and I can't make it seem okay. I can't hide my anger or my frustration at this injustice.

I'm leaving Uganda today, but what I've seen and heard (in Jinja as well as in the north) will stick with me. I'm going home because I have to learn more... about malnutrition, about trafficking, about what I can do. Then I'll be back.

See you soon...

Home.

I think twelve days is the longest I've gone without writing to you... I'm sorry, readers. Sorry, Mom. Today is a good day to write, though, because throughout the day today, I think I felt every emotion on the emotional spectrum.

The morning began normal enough; the clouds out my hut window a beautiful bed of pinks and oranges, coaxing the golden sun to wake up and warm the earth. I can't help but smile each morning as I pull my long sleeve tee over my head and stumble out the door to breathe the fresh crisp air.

December sixth. I didn't think it would come this fast. I remember back in September when I moved here and met all the kids. Back in September. Wow. Mama Rose told me that their school term ends in early December and then they'd be going back to their home villages. It seemed like so far away, and really it was. But here it is, and although I awoke this morning and smiled at the sunrise, I secretly dreaded getting out of bed; dreaded admitting that today really is the sixth of December already.

Still slightly groggy from dreaming, I walked towards the four houses where our 67 beautiful children live. "Good moooorning, Brynn!" I hear from Mercy House. "Good morning, Solomon," I wave back. He looks so sharp in his blue checkered button-up shirt and his clean shaven head. He comes to hug me, and notices the heart he drew on my arm yesterday. It's faded from my shower last night, and he looks concerned.
"Can I fix it?"
"Of course," I respond.
"Okay, you wait," he says over his shoulder as he runs inside his home. Shortly after he comes out and puts a small white heart-shaped piece of paper into the palm of my hand. I smile. This heart will last much longer than one drawn on my arm.

I walk over and Love House and find Faida, Abedkwene, and Ayaa eating breakfast. Their smiles are probably enough to make the sun shine for days, and although I'm so happy to see them, I feel tears welling up in my eyes. Do they really have to go? Janet comes out the door, and immediately says, "Don't cry."
"Janet, I will try. But when you say that I just want to cry more!"
She looks about to cry now too, but Solomon saves the day with his silly joking, "Okay, you cry! You cry! .... No but don't really..."

How I will miss these children, my brothers and sisters.

Finally, all 67 kids pile into three fifteen-seater vans. (This is Africa, folks). Hugging and saying goodbye to them all was draining enough; now we just have to wait and stare at them all until the drivers are ready to start their engines. (Again, this is Africa). Each minute seemed to cling for dear life to the one before it, so all the minutes bled together and the hour seemed like an eternity. It's not that I was ready for them to leave... it's that I had convinced myself they were leaving, and then they kept still being there.

Eventually, of course, the vans pulled away, little brown arms waving goodbye and beloved voices shouting "amari!" which means I love you. I love them, too. I hope they know it. My last image was Clinton's hand, and then the van turned the corner.

Suddenly, the compound felt like just that: a compound. No longer was it a home full of laughter and energy; now it was simply a compound, empty and doomed to wait patiently for "home" to return.

Drained and sad, I walked to the church and sat in the window, allowing tears to flow. I thought about how much I missed them already. I thought about how they don't want to return to their home villages, because some of them don't even have guardians to care for them. Many of them are going back to an empty hut; a place of hardship and bad memories. Then I realized I can't focus on that. I just spent three months with 67 amazing human beings! How blessed I am. How thankful I am that I was able to spend enough time with these kids to actually BE friends with them! They taught me better than to be sad at their departure. They taught me joy and peace, despite sadness and tribulation. They're living proof that God truly cares for and provides for his children. I have nothing to be sad about... I have everything in the world to be happy about.

I realized today, more than ever, that home isn't necessarily just a place. I've called this village home for the past three and a half months, but it's not simply the village that is home... it's the kids. My brothers and sisters; my friends. Home is also in Minneapolis, and I'm so excited to hug my mom and my dad and my sisters when I get there. Home is also in Milwaukee, and I have so many wonderful friends to look forward to there as well. Home will soon be in Spain, where my host mother Mercedes waits for my arrival.

Home isn't just a place. Home is where you can give love, and have love, and be loved. What a beautiful gift to embrace home where you are. To love. These kids taught me so much. I'll miss them incredibly.