A year ago today I was getting my first up-close-and-personal look at poverty in a third world country. I was in Uganda with a group of bloggers who turned out to be some of the greatest people I’ve ever met, and I came home from our trip rattled, sad, grateful, unsettled, burdened and angry. I feel like in so many ways God is still using the Uganda trip to change me and show me how my perception of “comfortable” is totally off-base – I don’t think I’ll ever get over what I saw and heard and felt over the course of those eight days.

So, in short: Uganda MESSED ME UP, and I am so thankful.

Many of you sponsored children through Compassion during that Uganda trip, and I can tell you without hesitation that you are changing a child’s life through your sponsorship. Remember, you can send your child letters via email, and this post of Melanie’s is a great reminder of how important our letters are to our Compassion kids.

In about nine weeks another group of bloggers will be heading to Calcutta, India (Angie, Anne, Melissa, Pete and Robin are on board so far), and I encourage you to pray for them as they prepare for their trip.

Here’s a post I wrote last year after we spent the day in a little village about ten miles outside of Kampala. And if you’re interested in releasing a child from poverty, you can find more info on Compassion’s website.

Internets, today I played Throw The Ball And Run AGAIN.

ME! PLAYING SPORTS! TWO DAYS IN A ROW.

I’m telling y’all: somebody needs to read Ephesians 3:20 out loud for the class. Because if I am throwing and catching and running and whathaveyou IN THE MIDDLE OF UGANDAN FIELDS, we need somebody to TESTIFY to the Lord’s faithfulness up in this interweb right now. God can do anything, oh yes He can.

Hallelujah.

We spent most of today in a village about ten miles outside of Kampala. To say that the ride was bumpy would be a huge understatement; in fact, at one point I looked over at Shannon and Anne and said, “Funny. I didn’t know that my calves could jiggle.”

But let me assure you: they most certainly can.

We visited a Compassion project that’s run through a local church (all Compassion projects are run through the local church), and the children there absolutely made my day. In fact, we had no sooner parked the bus than this little fellow ran over to us and reached up toward the window for my hand.

Just try to look at his sweet face and NOT smile. You can’t do it.

There’s a remarkable difference between the children we’ve seen who are sponsored through Compassion and those who don’t have a sponsor yet. The Compassion kids have light in their eyes; they have hope. They have adults who love them and disciple them; they have a support network for their families; they have food and medical care and clothing – all provided through their sponsorship.

These kids live in unimaginable conditions, but I’m telling you, when you see their faces? It’s like God turns up the sunshine to full blast.

We were able to play with the kids for most of the afternoon. Shannon and I actually sang “Jesus Loves Me” three or four times with a group of about ten kids, and they knew every single word. Then I showed them how I like to say “YAYYYYY” once I finish singing a song and how I sometimes take the “YAYYYYY” to new heights by clapping for myself.

Needless to say, they thought I was absolutely insane. But for whatever reason, I think this particular group of Ugandan children appreciated my crazy. So obviously I will be moving here in the near future, just as soon as I can get home and round up my people to come back with me.

And by the way, we yayyyyed and clapped like nobody’s business.

Because the children, they need to know these things.

A few hours after all the yayyyying, when we were just about to leave the project, a little boy – he was about 11, I’m guessing – ran up to me and started saying a name over and over.

At first I thought he was introducing himself to me, so I smiled and told him my name.

He shook his head – and then continued repeating the name.

I finally realized what he was saying, so I looked at him and asked, “Troy? Are you saying ‘Troy’?”

He nodded like crazy – with a smile so wide that I wondered if his face could even contain it – and as he looked me straight in the eyes, he said, “Yes. TROY. USA. Is my sponsor.”

And in that moment, it hit me.

Troy – whoever he is, wherever he is – is that boy’s link to the world. Through his sponsorship, Troy bridges a gulf of human indifference that separates those of us with the means to help from the kids who so desperately need it.

And while Troy has no idea, make no mistake: there was a child in a remote village of Uganda today who was shouting his name in gratitude.

I just think that’s extraordinary.

Every child needs a Troy. Every child deserves that.

Every single one.