Ordered Steps

Zion Springs

Too busy, too loud, too hustled. Life was too much like we say back home. I sunk, drowned in the pit of chaos and noise all around. In my home, on the street, in my head. There was a deep seated desire to press the mute button, more like the pause button, better yet just switch off.

Could this be a sign of aging? The need to slow down, to turn down the lights for a while? Grandma smeared mud on her window panes, she sealed off one square at a time. She said there was too much light coming into her room. Here I was making a similar complaint. Electronics, screens, car engines, people … aah!!

“I need to go away for a while” I told my husband. Without asking many questions he helped me find a hide out somewhere in the woods of Lees burg.
I packed my bags and was on the road the next morning.

I branched off onto the graveled road, the trees were taller and closer together, the farm land spread out for miles, horses munched on hay outside barns. Sheep looked like little clouds moving in the distance. I knew I had picked the right place. The house felt cozy, like a rich uncle’s home. I was shown up to my room. As I walked up the stairs I hoped not to come down for a year until it was absolutely necessary. If only we humans could hibernate too perhaps we would be less grouchy.

Theme song that night:

“The voice of God, Almighty Warrior, declaring war. 
Hear His command, you are a chosen generation, 
A mighty force in the land.

All of creation now is waiting 
to see the righteous take their stand; 
moving out in His anointing, 
fulfilling God's eternal plan.”

God is getting ready to do something special but we’ve got to be ready - dressed in the holy armor.
I met the host the next morning at 9:00 am. She’d set the table; scrambled egg, sausage and apple pie. As I sipped on my cup of tea, I asked about her courage to open her home to strangers.
“The seed was planted over 20 years ago by this couple we met at church. They opened their home to us as newlyweds. We stayed there for 3 weeks while they traveled. “
Her husband said “God has called us to community, to breaking bread and sharing life. It’s not about hierarchical leadership in the church but communion and living just like the disciples did in acts”

Acts 2:46 – 47 “…They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people.”

Not only did they feed my body, they fed my spirit as well. The chances that I would end up in a home of a believer were so slim, it had to be a divine appointment.
I was blessed, refreshed and renewed.

Always remember, your steps are ordered by God. Take that into 2016

Mrs O Tags Along for Outdoor Education Camp

Fire to keep us warm inside. 

Never dreamed of the day I would be the parent who attends her son's events hoping not to totally embarrass him. But you see, the school organized a 3 day outdoor education camp and parents were invited to volunteer I thought it was a brilliant idea until I told my son.

A Bedtime Conversation

March 29th, 2015

Miss: Mummy please buy for me a new leap pad like yours
Me: The leap pad you have is still good. When you grow up you will be able to buy one like mine.
Miss: But I'll just be a police
Me: Even police can buy nice things
Miss: I will just decide who stays and who goes
Me: (Cracking up). But I thought you wanted to be a builder and a cooker
Miss: Yes, but I have to learn all those things... and I don't even have a drivers license. (tears in her eyes)
Me: Don't worry when you grow up you will learn all you need to know
Miss: But it takes a long time. I want to learn to drive now.
Me: You need to be at least sixteen to drive.
Miss: But can't I learn at six?
Me: Well you won't be able to hold the steering wheel and step on the peddles because your body is still growing.
Miss: Is Mich old enough to drive?
Me: No, he is not yet sixteen either

Her face brightens up, we say our good nights and she lays down her head to sleep.
Aha! The troubles of a little heart :)

Kololo Airstrip

As a kid Kololo airstrip was a land mark to locate residences. A friends home in Kololo was either below or above the airstrip - it set the perimeters.

Independence Day parades were hosted here. If we didn't join the masses that flocked to catch a glimpse of the president or watch police and army bands play under the scorching heat we stayed home and caught it on UTV.

Kololo airstrip is now burial ground for some presidents and national heroes, and a field for sports and corporate events.
The last time I walked by I couldn't make heads or tails of it. It's under construction. This picture dates back to 2008, when it looked a little more organized. 

It should look better when it reopens ... I hope.

John Akii-Bua

1972, 10 years after Uganda received its Independence, a young policeman from Lira - John Akii-Bua won the country's first Olympic Gold medal in the Men's 400 meter hurdles.

A simple man with a tall slender physic, never drawing attention to himself (from what I recall). 

When Dad gave me this book, memories of their friendship came rushing back...their passion for sports and the times they traveled together. 

#Ugandaat53

The Road to My Fathers House

The road to my fathers house is layered with gravel, pebbles and stones.

The road to my fathers house is dusty and worn. 

The soil is dry and grainy. Mounds of clay mix with sand, mix with stones, making it uneven, lumpy and bare even.

Undecided plants grow and go yet some take root determined never to move.

Soroti road is paved but not to my fathers house. The silver-black surface spreads for sections at a time interrupted by pot holes here and there. 

As you travel further out, towards my fathers house the layer thins and fades and disappears. All that's left is clouds of thick, brown dust. It settles over eye brows and hair, over skin and every where.

Don't be mistaken this road has been worse, so rugged this road but surely 53 years later, it ought to look better. 

It's expanded and contracted. He's cleared it, it's grown back closing in tighter not opening up wider.

The road to my fathers home is brown as the far as the eye can see. Its been this way as long as I can remember. 

Maybe some day, maybe some day.

Africa Branded; from the mouths of babes

It happened yet again. I suspect I'm still looking fresh from Teso land.

Today we visited a church and a little girl asked me "Are you from Africa?"
I was in jeans and sneakers, looking like a "summer" and all so really what could have given me away?
I said yes.
Little girl: "Are you from Nigeria?"
I said "No, I'm from Uganda but you must be from Nigeria" (I took a wild guess).
She nodded her head with pride and said "Yes! And I have lots of friends" 
I loved her confidence. I got more interested.
"What is your name?"
Little girl: "Chineke but my name at baptism is ..."
(Banange!!! oba I also start introducing myself like that?!).
"How old are you?"
Little girl: 8 years old.

I met her mom after the service and she told me I'd only got half the story.
If I'd said I was Nigerian she would have asked "Are you Ibo?"
I recalled my encounter on the train, these Ibo's' have quite the presence.

So here's a question for you: Are you proud of your origin? You need to be. It's a good thing. This little girl showed me.

I think I need to prepare my lines for the next encounter or perhaps get the Uganda t-shirts.

Dog Window-shops with Old Man

Old man and dog

"Bagyenzi bange!!" In Ateso we say "ikatunga!!" It's an expression of surprise.
When I first came to America, I was shocked at how close people were to animals. In some cases it seemed the relationship with other humans had been interchanged for that with animals.

Experts on Their Own Turf

It's complicated this black and white thing. We see it where it's not and its not where we see it.The mind plays us and experience affects the way we view the world and each other.

New Kids on The Block

One look at these guys and I immediately identified them as our good neighbors to the north:- height, skin tone... enough said. I could tell they were fresh as cucumbers.

The Train Ride

It happened again.
I stepped up to the train rails and as I waited a man came up to me and said "hello! Where are you from?" I'm thinking oh no! Not again! He was clearly an African - that comes with a certain familiarity that lowers my guard. I smiled and said "Uganda". I thought that was the end of it.

Butterflies in Fall

A Foreigner at Home

Intent on taking shots of Kamokya, I made my way to the roof top of Acacia Mall.

I asked one of the guards if I could take pictures and he politely agreed.
I went snap, snap, snap. Another angle, snap, snap, snap when I noticed from the corner of my eye 3 guards walking towards me.
Guard 1: excuse me madam, you are not allowed to take pictures here.
Me: But I just asked your colleague 
Guard 1: Yah! But it's not allowed
Me: why?
Guard 1: it's not allowed. For security reasons.
Me: Ok, may I go then?
Guard 2: but madam, it seems you are not from around here.
I told him I was visiting but that I came from Serere.
He was visibly delighted.Turned out he was from Kumi.
"God loves me. To find a sister like you, my heart summersaults in my chest. You make me so proud". You've got to hear that phrase in Ateso to grasp his excitement. At this point his hands were all over the place ... on my wrist, on my shoulder ... I had to step away.
But I digress. This is a semi aerial view of Kamwokya with Gapco petrol station at the bottom. Lots of new buildings have sprouted in the area.

Little Artist

On a busy Tuesday morning, on Kampala road pavement, she huddles. Dust rises as people walk to and fro, it settles onto her mats of art but she is not frazzled. She covers her head with a hood to shut the world out but leaves a small window to her soul. It is written on one of her mats "My name is Nansubuga. My mother and father past away and now I stay with a relative who doesn't have enough money to care for me. Please buy my pictures they are only shs 5000/-. Thank you very much".

Millie - A Woman of First's.

She is a trend setter. A lady of first’s; - First lead alto for the Watoto choir and the creative mind behind Gospel Dancers. Hers was the first wedding with a dance procession in church. The first married lady to dance on the Kampala Pentecostal Church stage and the first mother to return to the dance ministry. She was the first female worship leader at Kampala Pentecostal Church now Watoto church. 
She helped shape the church's perspective on music and dance and started a revolution that spread through several churches. “I want to church the un-churched” she would say, “to appeal to young people who think Christianity is boring”.

The Art of Being Human: D.C vs KLA or KLA vs D.C

"I'm convinced of this: Good done anywhere is good done everywhere. For a change, start by speaking to people rather than walking by them like they're stones that don't matter. As long as you're breathing, it's never too late to do some good". Maya Angelou

While in Kampala, I boarded a taxi destined for the city center. As I waited for it to fill I looked out the window and tried to piece my day together. I marked which routes to take and how long I would be there when I suddenly realized my neighbor had been trying to catch my attention. It turned out that what I imagined a humm in the background was the lady greeting me "Wasuzotya?" This had been her third attempt.
I responded with a huge smile to make up for her insistent efforts. 

In D.C people are plugged-in most of the time. Wires hung out of ears and huge headphones clasp either side of their heads - everyone is linked to another world. Other times the poignant silence says it all - personal space.
I can always tell my fellow "maalo" folks by the way they look around and into peoples eyes.

That evening I hoped into a taxi headed to Ntinda and the driver was singing. He played his music loud on the car radio as is the norm. Passengers are subject to the drivers choice of music or radio station. He sang along to the vernacular church hymns probably reminiscing about Sunday services in his local church. The only problem was he was off key - I can not stress that enough. The beautiful thing was the passengers were oblivious. A similar stint on the metro or on public transportation in D.C would cause a whole other reaction. 
Like the morning one man forgot to plug his earphones in all the way and so his music filled the train cart. One upset passenger walked up to him and expressed how neither he nor the rest of the travelers were interested. Never mind that it was on for less than a minute.

I guess it is these differences that make cultures and people unique. We all need the courage to live out Maya's statement - do good and notice people because we all matter. 

Coffee and Free Things

Where I come from tea and coffee are served hot. So hot the steam makes waves in the air. Yes, Uganda has 25C/80F degree temperatures but we like our chai hot.

I got a coupon in the mail for free ice coffee at Dunkin Donuts and I thought pssh! Why not? ...Free things.

I got in line for my first ice coffee. I know, four years in America and this was my first ice coffee :-). Like I said, free things - my undoing. 

I took 2 sips, stirred it a little perhaps the sweetness had settled at the bottom. The ice cubes clinked. I took another sip. The cup was getting sweaty and I had to get to work. I imagined running to work with a cup of coffee clenched in one hand - just like in the movies. I thought, let me get to office and tackle this beverage properly.

The day came to an end and the ice coffee - cubes melted - the cup a little fuller, sat forsaken next to my keyboard. I think I need more practice, this African girl still has a lot of village.

So much for free things.

The Beautiful Girls of Karamoja

The beautiful girls of Karamoja.  During planting and harvesting seasons they travel several miles to Teso. Early in the morning they head to the fields, their voices carry as they sing and harvest crops. After they bring the early harvest in they stop for a break, gather together, sing and dance. They range from ages 14 to 17. Ideally they should be in school but they can’t afford it – the daily pay tides them over until the next job.

Once in a Blue Moon.

Here are some of the pictures I took of the 2015 blue moon. It's not blue in color but occurs once every 3 to 4 years.

Kampala's business mind; The Hustle of The Ordinary Ugandan.

"I'm not good at future planning. I don't plan at all. I don't know what I'm doing tomorrow. I don't have a day planner and I don't have a diary. I completely live in the now, not in the past, not in the future." Heath Ledger

Steaming maize and yams in the early evening

Its not usual that one has to draw out a plan for when they go home. Its assumed one is going to what is familiar so there is no need for detailed plans - well not if one has been away for close to 5 years.

"Here's what you needed to have done in preparation", a friend said.

1.Send an email to 10 close friends and tell them you will be in town. Note: ask if they have a car that you can use during your stay. 

2. Tell them how long you'll be in town, what you plan to do and when you are available - so they can factor you into their plans.
I didn't have that sense of entitlement and as a result I hustled with boda-boda's and taxis.

I was soon reminded of Kampala's fast-slow pace. One boards a taxi that moves back, back, forth and forth in search of customers - 30 minutes gone. The person you intend to see has "just stepped out" another hour flies by but there are traffic jams all day long because everybody is rushing somewhere - the daily hustle of the ordinary Ugandan.
You've got to love Uganda for it's small size, I bumped into a few friends on the street - round certain corners, visit certain malls or shopping centres and you are bound to run into people you know - older, more prosperous but with the same personalities that made the friendships work in the first place.

  

Boda-boda ride - a fascination for my little miss.

I embarked on journeys that had me sandwiched between the taxi conductor and the next passenger. I carried little miss on my lap as she got wrapped up in the adventure - Alice in a different wonderland. I hoped the passengers in the seats behind me would travel further than my stop but that's when I would here "massaawo!" the conductor would slide the door open, I would instruct little miss to stay put while I disembarked but like clockwork she would follow me out and I would have to carry her back into the taxi.

Even though taxi's are a basic means of transport, they are also places for business transactions.

Hajat sitting one row ahead:

"Hello!"

"Mmm! Oyagala color kyi?"

"Eh! Purple ne white, egenda bulungi! Era kanzigye"

Man to my right:

"Hello! eh kyi kyi? Esimu ebuzze?!

"Kakati, muwe bisumaali - 2 boxes. Nina ebintu gyemaliliza"

Man in torn tshirt enters taxi while on phone.

"Eh mwana, oli ku facebook?"

"Kati noonya Catherine Nankya, ojakulaba"

"Eh! Omuwala antawanya nyo, naye she is the one"

"Naye sokon promisinge tojanbulira omunte yena - wadde enkoko"

At this point I chuckled to myself - it was a bit much but I liked the confidence with which each one engaged in conversation never concerned about the other passengers.
These three conversations represent some of the key issues in Kampala: Business;- Fashion, construction and relationships.

I agree with  Roald Amundsen "Adventure is just bad planning" and with Heath Ledger, it's good to live in the moment, you never know what the day brings. I certainly enjoyed reconnecting with Uganda's buli daily hustles thanks to my free schedule.

Great men worth my tears on Father's day

Dwight D. Eisenhower once said, "No man is worth your tears, but once you find one that is, he wont make you cry". I disagree.  

Last Saturday as I listened to an NPR program commemorating fathers day I felt the sudden urge to bawl over, I cleared my throat but couldn't hold back the tears. Even though the stories shared were different from mine the themes of strength, commitment, devotion, hard work, sacrifice, wisdom, guidance, truth and protection connected us across the airwaves. I was reminded of some of the men who have influenced my life; my husband, my father, my grand father and my grand father in-law (does such a title exist?).

Each morning I see the urgency and commitment in a father's eyes as he dresses his daughter. He picks clothes that match, and smiles with pride when her hair is tidy because he doesn't know the first thing about girls hair. He would if he knew how. I see the concern in his eyes and hear the strength in his voice as he cautions his son. I sense his wish to live life on his son's behalf - to make the right decisions, to show him how to listen and follow instructions so his path is straight. If life lessons could be sipped through a cup, if the values of hard work, discipline, consistency and a relationship with God could be eaten up like a piece of cake he would bake it. He probes, he answers questions, he reads chapter long stories each night and prays even gets a soft stomach as he watches a young man emerge from the cocoon of a bedroom where he tends to hibernate for hours. A young man who questions, challenges and pushes back at his family and the world. There is a desperation and a prayer "Oh God help me do this right". As I watch how would these tears not flow?

I think of my father, with all his failures and faults, his mistakes and errors. I think of his frailty now over 70 years later and recall the strong, bold, tower that he was in his youth.
Not a single memory of school milestones come to mind without his shadow right there. The drive to nursery school each morning and the moments he stopped to talk with the headmistress Ms. Ampaire. The Primary 1 interview at Kitante Primary School with Ms. Mugerwa, he waited outside. The class days he attended without fail. My first day in boarding school and each consecutive term that followed for four years. His effort to get school fees in times of financial hardship.
I am the last of six children - those are many years of commitment considering that there is a 10 year age difference between the first and last child. How would these tears not flow?

Grandpa made me laugh so hard my stomach ached, I was out of breath, my eyes wet with tears. As I think back what he said was not that funny but he knew how to engage a 5 year old and that's all that mattered. He told stories of his days in the army, of the military training in Tanzania and how it made him more resilient and how he got the swoosh on his forehead from a bullet that narrowly missed his skull. He was funny - I guess that's what grandpas are for. So tell me, how would these tears not flow?

I thought I had received all the grandpa love I could get until I met my husbands grandpa. He was larger than life - 6 foot 3 inches, full of love and compassion. Rev. Canon Ernest Nshakira. There are 3 vivid events that encompass what he meant to me.
Our first encounter - I was nervous, not sure what he would make of this atesot interested in his grand son. He enveloped me in a bear hug and said welcome. "Like tea is better with sugar and cream, so is a marriage of people from different cultures" I paraphrase, but right there and then, I knew I had received his blessing. In his eyes we were all the same, no Jew or gentiles, no slave or free, no Baganda, Luo, Iteso or Bakiga, we were all beautiful people loved by God.
He gathered his grandchildren around him in Kabale and opened his favorite scripture to recount how blessed he was: Psalm 127: 3-6

Children are a heritage from the Lord,
    offspring a reward from him.
Like arrows in the hands of a warrior
    are children born in one’s youth.
Blessed is the man
    whose quiver is full of them.
They will not be put to shame
    when they contend with their opponents in court.

He was a pillar of faith, of trust, of humility. A man who hid God's word in his heart.

After being hospitalized in Nsambya he yearned to return to the village, "I miss my wife. I want to see her face and spend time with her". After 50 years of marriage if that is not love, I don't know what is.

Through these men I know what it means to be loved, secure, encouraged, led and sorted. No single man can be all things but God stations his men at different stages in our lives to give us a glimpse of His character.
I celebrate fathers who are here and those who have gone before. The men who have filled in the gap, who have been there for children both young and old.

Even the men that are worth our tears can make us cry but they are tears of gratitude.

Happy Father's Day and Thank you!

CNN International Publishes A Photo I took From the Air

Sometimes the maalo (primitive curiosity) of sitting in an aeroplane and peering at the world with wide eyed wonder can lead to double joy. First, the joy of the experience and second the joy of sharing the experience. Woke up to this cute little tweet from CNN international:

Took this on my way back to the U.S from Vietnam. I had a 4 hour lay over at Narita Tokyo airport. I knew I would not visit the city so I made the most of it in the air. I'm glad I get to share it with the world. 

The Wedding Invitation 50 Years Later.

How can we say thanks for the things you have done
Things so undeserved, yet you gave to prove your love for us
The voices of a million angels could not express our gratitude
All that we are and ever hope to be, yeah
We owe it all right now to thee

To God be the glory
To God be the glory
To God be the glory
For the things He has done.

Happy 50th Anniversary Mummy and Daddy! We've seen the ups and the downs and the in between's. Through it all you continue to say yes "I do".

Celebrate Spring

I walked out this morning to the sound of a bird tweeting with all its might. I looked up and there it was – a cardinal right at the top of the branch. Its rich red feathers and black mask were a beautiful contrast with the green leaves.

It’s a new day – the birds are eager, the flowers are eager to bud. It’s spring!

A Call for International Hair Day

When she was a baby I kept her hair short. The hussle of plaiting a squirmy little girls hair was more than I could handle at the time. The less the maintenance the better. Then we relocated. She grew older and slowly the idea of short hair wasn't appealing anymore. I yielded and started plaiting little toots. Her hair grew. Imagine her shock and surprise when we washed it and it shrunk.

She looked in the mirror.

"Mummy?"

"Yes"

"Why is my hair going in circles?"

I thought, oh oh!

"Well, that is what happens to our hair when we wash it. It shrinks"

She looked puzzled. It was the strangest thing ever. 

You see, my little girl thinks we are a mirror of the people around us.That we all look the same - especially the little people she spends time with. How ever things get a little complicated when the fine toothed comb does not move as easily through her hair as she thinks it should. Reality check! Culture shock!   

Now mummy has to explain things that would not be issues in Kampala. I remember my friend Ama's experience at the barbers and how it led her to write "Sunne's gift".

Like waves erase foot prints on the shore, my little girl soon forgets and assumes her hair is the same as that which she sees.

"Mummy, make it go up like this and like this"

I look at her and my face cracks into a smile. I resist the temptation to say "girl, that is how our hair bes". 

She says "leave it open" and in her little mind, it is now flowing down to her back well, until she looks into the mirror again and it's gloriously standing strait up and singing alleluya.

I tell her it's beautiful. I tell her it's perfect just the way God made it. That she's fearfully and wonderfully made - unique and special in every way.

One day I un-braided my hair and washed it - naturally it shrunk. She would not come near me. Little miss who is generous with hugs was reserved this time. She would not let her head touch mine. We talked about hair again.

And that is why we need International Hair Day, so that humans of the world can rock what God gave them with out fear or favor and in the process understand and celebrate their differences - long, short, straight, kinky, steel wire, kaweke, GQ all of them.
Here is to International Hair Day! oh yes and to African mama's living in "outside countries".

Little Bear Goes to Work

The Gay Agenda - What Would Jesus Do?

The elephant in the room; - a metaphorical idiom that refers to an obvious truth that is being avoided. That truth for me was the gay and lesbian agenda. I hoped I could wish it away but it grew and slowly squashed me into a corner. I was challenged to rethink my position. I tripped, stumbled and learned the importance of being politically correct in conversations. The sensitivity around the topic was like the growl of a wounded cat before its claws emerge. Activists and proponents were ready to snuff out any fire that did not warm the “right ideas”. I began to question whether there was room for free speech- room to hold my view and not be coerced or challenged for it. It seemed either I believed in the cause or I didn’t believe at all. I wanted to agree to disagree and have that space respected.

Once I had to slowly retrace my steps after I walked into a colleague’s office and caught sight of the portrait on her shelf. Two ladies dressed in wedding gowns. All over a sudden I was alert, I looked around in case I had missed other clues. You see, not only am I old school but usually I imagine someone else telling these stories. I'm a conservative Ugandan woman who avoids controversial topics like the plague. This issue that had once been somewhere out there stared me in the face and I couldn’t run. I purposed to leave the things that people do in their private space and to relate with them as colleagues and friends unless of course the opportunity presented itself for conversation. I hoped not – I preferred not. I figured I was home scot-free if I didn’t talk about it and it was not mentioned well, until another colleague placed the topic on the table.

I engaged in the discussion best I could although I got animated too. Issues surrounding my faith wind me up like that. I said it is man and woman that is God's design, He will not have it any other way. We argued for weeks on end, just could not get enough of the subject. My views were ultimately hinged on my faith and my upbringing. He thought I was narrow minded and offered to give me a tour – meet the people and attend gatherings that sort of thing. A kind of introduction to portray its harmlessness;-“It’s ok as long as no one is hurt”; “two consenting adults = no one else’s business”. I squirmed in my sit, this was an uncomfortable experience but one thing I have learned about God is He doesn't take well to comfort zones. I realized this situation was bigger than me and my comforts, so I indulged and asked..."What Would Jesus Do?"

This question swarmed my mind until I had a eureka moment. I found the answer in three little words “FEED MY SHEEP” John 21:17. Jesus fed His sheep and asked us to do the same no if’s and’s or but’s. Oswald Chambers puts it quite nicely in “My utmost for His Highest”. He says “Jesus has some extraordinarily peculiar sheep: some that are unkempt and dirty, some that are awkward or pushy, and some that have gone astray! But it is impossible to exhaust God’s love, and it is impossible to exhaust my love if it flows from the Spirit of God within me. The love of God pays no attention to my prejudices caused by my natural individuality. If I love my Lord, I have no business being guided by natural emotions— I have to feed His sheep. We will not be delivered or released from His commission to us. Beware of counterfeiting the love of God by following your own natural human emotions, sympathies, or understandings. That will only serve to revile and abuse the true love of God.”

That brought me to 1 Corinthians 13:4 –8:

^“4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. ⁵ It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. ⁶ Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. ⁷ It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. ⁸ Love never fails.”

It means don’t make fun of, don’t ridicule. It means grace abounds above and beyond. Jesus is the shepherd and he loves ALL His sheep. When He asked for them to be fed, He meant all of them.

The case was closed.

* We can't change people. Only God can.
* Let the truth of the Word of God shape your thoughts and actions. We either accept the truth or compromise it to suit our purpose. The truth leaves consequences to God compromise leaves consequences with man. 

* Jesus was all about people - He loved them all: Judas Iscariot, Doubting Thomas, lying Peter, Mary Magdalene, the woman at the well, the woman caught in adultery and me. 

We all have issues but He sticks with us. 

When they grumbled or fell shot He rebuked them in love - never accusatory. 

So now I'm here facing this elephant who seems to shrink each passing day I don't know if it’s because I'm getting used to its presence or that I understand my stand better. 

One thing I know is, it’s not my job to fix but to love and feed the sheep. 

Love means acceptance not perfection. 

Love keeps no record of wrong it means each day I see you afresh, with new eyes not for your behavior but the human being that you are. God is perfectly capable of handling the rest of the business.

Spring, Come Already!

Snow weighs on branches. The sun is furious. The days are brighter. The birds tweet so loud, so early and so long as if to say "time up winter - get with the program". When rats the size of squirrels make a debut on the D.C street scene on a cold winters day, you know something has got to change. Spring anybody?

Muse on This

Coming into America; First Experience in the Land of The Free and the Home of the Brave - July 2006

The American dream evaporated in the unrelenting Philadelphia heat that July. My excitement to see the United States for the first time stewed and dried up. Open windows provided little relief from the hot air that stood stiff like a brick. It declined to dance or sway. Drenched in sweat I watched as cold beads of water - like tears slid down the side of the ice filled pitcher. If only I could shrink and swim in it.

Demis Roussos The Greek Singer of Our Youth Departs the Stage

Demis Roussos died today: January 26th, 2015.
I wrote about him here.
Ah! how sad... but his music and our memories live on.

Greek singer Demis Roussos has died, hospital in Athens says http://t.co/TCin3V9eS3 pic.twitter.com/KRpr5FpHMM
— BBC Breaking News (@BBCBreaking) January 26, 2015

Even Then Jimmy Swaggart Made a Difference

As the rain and the snow

 come down from heaven,

and do not return to it

    without watering the earth

and making it bud and flourish,

    so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,

so is my word that goes out from my mouth:

    it will not return to me empty,

but will accomplish what I desire

 and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. 
Isaiah 55:10 - 11

His was a household name in the 80’s. Every Sunday afternoon we gathered in the living room to watch the TV Evangelist Jimmy Swaggart. I can’t imagine any tweens excited to watch an evangelist at any time of the day but we were. With Uganda Television’s (UTV) limited screen time (6pm – 10pm) almost anything went, anything except “Amawuliire” and “Habari” - news in Luganda and Swahili.

Sons and Fathers; Messing With The Pumpkin in The Old Homestead

According to Myers Briggs I am an INFP; an Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Perceiving human being. In my world intuition reigns over intellect. Once I believe in a cause it is almost impossible to convince me otherwise. I will hold on to that truth for all its worth. Yes, it’s been said “the heart is not so smart” but the head has its faults too. It is prone to wander off on numerous errands of futile intellectual pursuit.  Like Tolkien I admit “I am a mere individual…with intense feelings more than ideas”.

Since coming to America I’m more aware that intellectual and logical arguments reign supreme. Statements of “I think” capture attention while statements of “I feel” or “I believe” lose the crowd. “Why do you feel? Explain it. How did you come to this conclusion?”

 It's intuition. A gut feeling. An observation. 

The sweet spot however is a fine balance between heart and mind but even this is hard to master.