There are lots of sights and sounds from Uganda that will stay with me forever, but for some reason last Tuesday’s home visit seems to be on constant replay in my mind. I can’t think of anything in recent memory that has affected me so profoundly, and every single time I close my eyes to rest or to try to sleep, I see a mental slideshow of that afternoon.
We went to see a 21 year-old mother and her little boy. Their home is in a small village, and to get there we had to walk through several narrow alleyways that are bisected by drainage ditches. Three families share one outdoor restroom – which is located behind this brick wall.
This is the young mama praying while she held her little boy; I will always remember their sweet faces.
The home next door was empty, so I asked the Compassion worker who was with us if I could take some pictures. For whatever reason, it struck me as completely surreal.
When our home visit was over, we walked slowly back through the village.
A couple of hours later we had a worship service at a nearby Compassion project; several mothers and children from the village were there with us. And when I saw the mom we visited walk to the front of the church to sing for us, I thought my heart might explode right then and there.
She lives in a one-room house in the middle of a remote, impoverished village.
I live in a way-too-many-rooms house in the middle of American suburbia.
And I wonder if I’ve ever known the kind of hope that she has, if I’ve ever experienced a faith that’s as pure and unencumbered by the things of this world.
The woman and her friends were singing a song they’d written about how Compassion has helped their families. They see every meal, every vaccination, every mosquito net, every dose of medicine, every bit of help from Compassion as God’s provision for them. They are deeply grateful.
And I get ticked off in the grocery store if my favorite brand of coffee is out of stock or if the line at the deli requires me to wait more than two minutes for my sliced turkey.
Perspective. It’s a mighty good thing. And that day – in the middle of a remote Ugandan village that has no power, no running water, no telephone lines and no cable television – I found tons of it.
I pray that I never forget.
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