The Important Things

I have never come to a place in my life where I have faced some of my deepest fears. Not fears such as large, death-daring snakes or cars crashing in the river or even public speaking. I have come to the conclusion that I do not fear many things, but for those few that I do, they are forces stronger than gravity itself. Those fears influence every single decision I do or do not make. They are the driving force in almost every action. I carry around with me the fear of commitment to one place, person, or thing, the fear of boredom and complacency, and the fear of missing out. Ever since I was a young girl I remember telling my parents the day I turn 18 is the day I move out of the house. Although, because God is funny like that, I went to college in my home state, it was the only school I applied to in Michigan. I was committed to Philadelphia in my heart, but by God’s provision I stayed in state. Luckily, I was able to spend my summers out west, reliving each summer the excitement of change and new experiences. Being able to work in Colorado and Montana for my summers was my outlet every year. 

The thought of living in Michigan, or the Midwest, has been an idea I have refused to even visit in my mind. God is all about taking his followers to do radical things right? True radical Christians don’t stay in their hometown. Sure, we need doctors and nurses and accountants and teachers, but not for me no. God has called me to radical things. He has called me to international social work and missions. That is what I have always believed and I’m not saying that is not true, God could be calling me to this type of radical thing, but while in Africa I have had to face the question of “what if the most radical thing we can do is love our neighbor?” What if the craziest journey we can be on is to love and pour into our community back home? What if, God is calling me back home? I have been forced to ask and answer these questions because I have been living in a part of the world that does just that. When I look at my African friends and family, I have to conclude that they are not missing out on anything. For most of what I’ve seen, women become housewives and raise their children, families attend church every Sunday and participate in their community simply by being present, and most will never make it out of the country. And there is nothing wrong with that! I believe north American Christianity has been fed a lie about “radical Christianity”. I do believe that we are called to be radical, but our definition of ‘radical’ may just be wrong. We have attributed radical to overseas missions or voluntary poverty. And I’m not saying that God does not call people to that. Jesus is a radical God, and he often calls his followers to places they could have never conceived before. But not everyone is meant to be a Paul and Silas. 

It’s ironic to me that I fly across the world to realize that maybe God is calling me home. Couldn’t I have learned before committing to four months on a different continent?! I have come to value friends and family more than ever before, because after all, what if that is all we have? What if that is the most important thing? I cannot neglect the fact that my grandparents are nearing the end of their life, my parents are growing older, and my sister is closer to marriage than getting behind the wheel of a car for the first time. And here I am running around the world searching for adventures trying to avoid “missing out” when I am missing out on all that is going on at home. I do believe I carry around an adventurous spirit and have a fever for wild, free-spirited, crazy things, but I have come to a place in life where I have had to face the reality that life is short. And life is precious, especially the people in it. It would be foolish of me to ignore that fact. Africa has taught me that each day is a gift and God doesn’t promise us another day. So how would our lives look if we took that seriously? I am just beginning the journey of not taking anything for granted, and trust me, it’s worth it. Because in the end, let me ask you this, how will you be remembered? what you accomplished or traveled to, or whose lives you changed by investing in them?






Ali

Sponsoring A Child

I’ll start by saying I’m bias. After doing my internship with Compassion International (the largest child sponsorship program in the world) in Uganda, I could not be more convinced in the effectiveness it makes. I just cannot get over how much a child’s life changes if he/she is sponsored. I have grown up hearing about Compassion and sponsoring children in general, and it has been easy to pass by children in need—because after all, I didn’t really know them. I believed there were needy children in the world, but I didn’t really think it concerned me—someone else will take care of them right? I have seen hundreds of faces displayed with a packet of information about how to sponsor a child, and I never occurred to me that I should do it. But I’m telling you that now things are different. I feel blessed with the opportunity to have witnessed the other side of servant hood; I am doing ground work here in Uganda literally watching lives be transformed. The oceans between a picture and a human face have been removed—and it has changed me. So as of this past week, I am officially a child sponsor.

                I wrote of him earlier in my posts as he was one of the first children I met because his father does some side work for our offices. I connected with him right away and we instantly became buddies. Every time I see him he comes sprinting towards me with a huge smile yelling, “Ali! Ali! Ali!” I am not a mother, but I understand a glimpse of the joy a child can bring simply wanting to see you. I knew that after interning with Compassion I would not be able to walk away from the experience without sponsoring a child. So I began to pray about sponsorship, and it so happened that Shahibu had been on the waiting list for almost 2 years to become sponsored.  When I found this out I talked to my project director to even see if it would be possible to sponsor him. They were ecstatic.  The month long process of communication with the head office and other officials is over, and I am officially sponsoring someone I know and love.

                I do not write this to guilt anyone into becoming a sponsor, listen to your own convictions and follow them please. But if you or someone you know is on the fence about becoming a sponsor, I am telling you how it changes lives. The way the system in the world is set up write now is tragic, and if a child isn’t sponsored, they have little to no hope of every going to get a college education and giving back to their community.

                Other than that all is well here in Uganda, rainy season has begun and the drought it over (funny how I have never been so thankful for rain before). I have also been training with the volleyball team and have made some great relationships here. Thank you for your ceaseless prayers and devotions to my journey in Uganda.

We do not have to go after crosses,but we have to take up the crosses we have been given all along.

Ali 

The quest for water

One pull of the finger in and there it is: a perfect cylindrical clear stream of the most life-sustaining element on earth: water. These past ten days I have been living in rural Chapchowra, Uganda. It is a beautiful village residing in the foothills of Mt. Elgon bordering Uganda and Kenya.  Running water is for the small wealthy percentage in Uganda, so I have adapted to this lifestyle of not having it. but what I haven’t adapted to is walking long distances to retrieve water on my head. Most people carry the large 20L jerrycans on their head (which I calculated to be 42 pounds), but I can only do a 10L. I would even put myself on the stronger end of the spectrum for females, and there was no way I was getting that thing on my head. And there are women carrying a baby in a sling on their back with a 20L on their head, walking down steep terrain. African women are strong!

The kitchen and the dog

What happens when the well is dry? You see its rainy season here, which means water must be used conservatively because having dry wells is common. This past week I experienced this first hand. After lunch, and after lunch’s dishes, my mom and I always go and fetch water. It is about an 8 minute walk to the nearest well, really not too bad, although these were the foothills, so there is no flat ground. Steep walking up hills is required anywhere you go. So we went to our usual place to retrieve water with our empty jerrycans, and found that the tap was dry. Oh no. my mom doesn’t fret because she knows the other sources; so we pick up our feet and walk another 12 minutes to the next source. Dry.  Okay well this isn’t good, my mom comments. So we must keep trying. We need water. There is no “we can get it later”. We have to cook, do dishes, bathe, and drink. There is no other choice but to keep trying; there is no other option. We trek on another 15 minutes to the next source. Dry. Again. This is a real big problem, my mom explains. Water was here yesterday and the day before as the people who were with us were saying. I don’t understand the local language but I could see on everyone’s faces how tired they were and effect of the problem at hand. We all now travel in a pack with other people who share the same desperation for water as we do. We now had to walk to the furthest source, another 15 minutes away. 

carrying Metoke on my head (African style of course)

making home-made coffee and g-nut sauce

By this time I am tied (from walking all the hills), hot (from the blazing sun), and thirsty( the only reason keeping me going at this point). As we approach our fourth attempt at water, alas, a crowd of people are gathered around the spring all waiting in line with their containers to be filled. After filling, I watched my 10-year old sister sling a 20L on her head and then proceeded to smile watching myself struggle to do the same with my measly 10L. we walked 45 minutes home. As we reached home I just thought what a journey. And as I removed the water from atop of my head and placed it down in the kitchen, I was reminded of the effort it takes me to nudge my finger and get running water at home, which I can assure you I will never take advantage of again.