Poverty in Uganda slaps you. Dust coats your face and mouth and you can’t get enough water in the heat. My clothes clung to my body from early morning until late in the evening when I would step into a cold shower- a luxury I didn’t begrudge.
Life here is hard. From the window of our bus I would see women toiling away- sewing machines set up along the roadside or digging in mud to form bricks to bake and sell, carrying their babies on their backs, hard labor in the garden and field and home.
But the joy. The joy was heard in laughter and under trees and in courtyards. The joy was seen on faces as they stood with friends and showed off their bicycles. Community is everything and I missed my people each night when I returned to an empty room to cry alone.

These kids. Their songs and giggles and dancing grabbed my heart. They invited me to open and worship. Their lives are precious to the Creator who hears their cries and draws near.
This girl. Her name is CeeCee. She’s twelve years old and an orphan and I love her. She laughs loud like me. She’s tall and slender and beautiful and wants to be a lawyer whens she grows up. I pray for her and ask the Lord to protect and keep her.