Random.

Well, like most things that have happened since we got to Uganda 2 words are good at summing it all up: Random & Unexpected.  Yup.  Let's start with a few main points...

1.  I taught a sex education course to teachers from 7 different schools throughout Uganda.  Went pretty well.  The best section was most definitely the "Myths" about contraception and pregnancy.  Fact: the only 100% way to remain baby free is ABSTINENCE.  Myth:  Jumping up and down, standing on your head, or bathing will not prevent pregnancy.  Fact:  Drinking laundry detergent will not only terminate a pregnancy, it may terminate you as well.

When did I realize that 4 years of collegiate education pay off?  When I made this statement:  "Yes, sperm is very sneaky."

2.  I'm pretty sure my heart will always skip a beat when someone yells- "Nurse!  We need you! There has been an accident!"  I guess it is suppose to.

3.  I don't pull teeth out.  No matter how hard you ask me.  I haven't got there yet.  Maybe soon.

4.  Best investment as of yet- Liquid anti-bacterial soap.  Go wash it off.  I say it in a very loving way.

5.  Scrub pants are cumfy.  I wear them even when it doesn't call for it.

The Little Things

Last night I was tired.  When I reached my comfy bed, I was ready.  But the sleep didn’t come as fast as I would have liked.  I couldn’t get the images out of my head from yesterday.  One of those nights when your body is tired, but your mind won’t stop.  Yesterday was a bit crazy.  I couldn’t bring my medical bag because we had to bring other bags with us.  It felt pretty weird to be separate from that backpack, we have been attached (literally) since I got here.  The boys were supposed to bring it before I had to go to the slums, but since a monster rainstorm hit back at the house; they were unable to meet up with us.  I felt pretty unarmed as we walked into the little school house where I always see the worst wounds and fevers.

We were there for about 10 minutes when I heard “nurse, we need you.”  Sometimes that phrase is scary, I’m not gonna lie.  A small boy had just walked in carrying his little sister.  She was probably around 4 or 5 and weighed a fragile 20-25 lbs.   Of course all of this is guessing seeing as how she didn’t know how old she was, I had no scale, and she was very quiet.  Her brother was giving me info about what happened, but it didn’t register until I looked down at her little foot.  Her right foot had been severely burned by a boiling pot of water that spilt on her 2 days before.  It covered the whole surface of the top side of her foot, it was black in some areas, while pink and exposed in others.  I asked her name, and told her mine.  Her name is Mikaleta.

I don’t have a lot of experience with burns, but I knew that it had to be cleaned because the last thing her body could take was infection.  There is no running water or sources near where we work in the slums of Kisenyi, so I took one of our water bottles and began to pour it over her foot, trying to get the dirt off around the burn before I loosely wrapped it .  I felt very useless with my supplies and technique that’s for sure.  I looked up and the brother was watching my every move and he just said- “you are a good nurse.”  I laughed and told him I wished I was better, and then I asked for his name.  He replied- “you don’t remember me?”  My heart sank as it usually does when these kids realize I can’t remember their names.  Then he showed me his healed finger that I had stitched up about 3 weeks ago, and I remembered very quickly.  “Nicholas!”   I was excited to actually see a healed wound and to see that his face was in much less pain this time. 

I asked more about their story from the translator, and he told me about how the mother of the little girl was a street child herself and she wouldn’t come around here due to embarrassment.  I’m not even sure if Nicholas was related to the little girl.  If a girl is homeless a few things can happen- she will get raped on the street, or she will resort to selling her body to survive.  I can’t be sure of this story, but those are some of the common ones I have heard. 

Once I was done dressing it I told Nicholas that it was his job to make sure this dressing stayed clean until Friday afternoon when I could make it back to Kisenyi slums again.  He was delighted to take part in this little one’s treatment, he shook my hand, and I said “I’m counting on you Dr. Nick.”  The smile he gave me washed away the pain in the pit of my stomach.  He turned around, Mikaleta hopped on his back, and they were off. 

I prayed over her foot, I asked God to heal it completely whether it be through the motions he gives my hands or by some other miracle.   I walked away yesterday thinking about how the small things are what really counts.  I thought about that smile Nicholas has, I thought about the smile Mikaleta had as she was being carried away on Dr. Nick’s back, I thought about how maybe when her young mother saw the dressing her heart may be put at some ease. 

God does big things, but I can’t help but think about all the small beautiful things He works out that stick out in my mind.  Sometimes I get caught up in thinking about all the BIG things God has planned for my life here- like starting an NGO with homes for street children, free medical care, counseling, the whole sha-bang.  While all those big dreams rock, and I pray in faith that God will provide, it was the little things that got me today. 

My prayer for you as you read this is not that you walk away and feel helpless.  My prayer is that you feel that much more equipped.  That God reminds you that the smallest acts of kindness can change the course of a life.  That you may not be able to change the world, but you can change a world, and in the end, that’s everything isn’t it? 

Pray for Nick, Pray for Mikaleta, pray for the world.  Pray for the thousands of children that are losing hope in the streets, pray for those being restored in loving homes, pray for your next-door neighbor.  Pray for those little moments that God is working out in your life today.  It all counts. 

Thank you for your prayers.  I can feel them, our team can feel them, and so can these kids.   

Nurse Kate

My team laughs because it seems we have all acquired new names since arriving in Uganda.  The kids have the hardest time saying Mallory's name, so she is usually Maria or Mary.  They don't have the name Katie here, so I have been abbreviated to just Kate. Or, Nurse.  I feel convicted this early AM that I haven't been writting enough about the medical side of things here.  I think that my lack of this is mainly due to long days, so many things to say, and my weak brain not being able to get it all out.  But, God has really slammed it on my heart that you need to know.  And, though it takes a lot for me to cry or get upset during medical each day, my heart needs to pour out.  In the most famous words of my mom, Janice Carroll Cartwright- "If you don't cry every now and then, you'll pee your pants."  And let's face it, I don't want to pee my pants, especially in a country with lack of public restroom availability.

With my last post I told you me and Mallory are combining blogs because we think it to be easier, and we need to help each other get out thoughts sometimes, so you can find that link in my last post.  So it looks like the Field is going to be more dedicated to my nursing experiences.  So here it goes.  :)

I remember the first day of setting up my little make-shift clinic in the open field on Buganda rd.  I hung my med bag on a branch so it wouldn't get muddy (darn rainy season), used the available tree stump as my exam chair/table and got to work.  A lot of the kids recognized me as the nurse from last time in late December.  The line escalated pretty fast from a few to around 25-30 kids circled around me.

Since the first day, things have changed a bit.  I now have a fancy fold out table (about 10x8), and even a small bench to sit on.  I have also implemented orange cones around my tree stump to function as the "waiting room," and our lovely friend/translator helps put name tags on the boys so I can know who has been seen, and who hasn't (still working on good documentation of course...haha.)

There are some things that have stayed the same however.  I am without a doubt the most Lugandan challenged person on our team.  Maybe it's the TN accent I'm really not sure, but the language here is something that is going to take more work than what I have been putting in.  Some phrases that I have found especially helpful to memorize in Lugandan (I have put them in order of importance):
1) NO!
2) Don't touch that!
3) Show me your wound.
4)  What's your name?
5) This is going to sting a bit...
6) Can you try to keep this clean and dry until I see you again?
7) Wait your turn.
8)  I'm sorry.
9)  Does that hurt?
10)  Do you have a cough?

There are definitely more to learn, and even these I butcher terribly and Maria (our translator) laughs at me and then really says it.  Each day I see more and more old wounds, for some I have seen improvement, and for others...Well, we are working on it.  The biggest issue is dirty living conditions, because even if it is washed and cleaned well, as soon as I can get the dressing on they head back to the streets where there is no lack of dirt, clouds of exhaust, and trash.  For every infected wound there is a child with a horrible cough and fever.  Which could be a lot of things couldn't it? For some we have taken to a clinic to be tested for malaria (which is always positive-not sure if that is really positive or just bad testing), for others they just have the flu, and for others I fear worse.  I have my supply of Tylenol and cool, wet rags, and prayer, and as of yet that is my treatment.  Sometimes, there are children that are seriously ill from sniffing the ever-popular oil on rags.  They do this because it is available to them at very cheap prices (about 1/2 a morning of collecting scrap metal can get them enough money to buy a supply), not to mention marijuana is cheap and available here.  Sure, some of the kids could use what little money they make to buy food, but for some they aren't interested in living that much longer.  Last Sunday afternoon, a small boy was vomiting green bile, and shaking.  This is the one of the first times I thought a patient was going to die right there in front of me.  I just prayed over and over that this wouldn't be he last resting place.  This small plot of land in front of a burning trash heap.  We found out he was just on too many chemicals, and we re-hydrated him and found a cool place for him to rest.  Within hours he was better. Unfortunately, the next week we found him high again.

For every discouraging thing that happens there are always many more miracles to outnumber it.  Like the street boy that helps me with medical because he wants to be a doctor some day, or the kids that run into my arms as soon as we get into the slums, or the 14 year old street boy that prays with the passion of the apostles  we read about.

So, to rap up- I know there are more things to be done, more efficient ways to take care of these kids, and more knowledge to soak up.   Each day I ask God for His Spirit to guide me, because He is the only One that can.  For the first time I am learning what it means to "fully rely on God."  It's challenging and refreshing.  It's like each day I'm becoming who God intended me to be.

So, if you are keeping up with us, thanks.  Thanks for praying.  I pray that the stories of these kids ignite something inside of each of you. Because, once that happens there is no stopping it.

I'm bad at bloggin'

So...it turns out that I am no good at keeping up with a good, constant blog.  Me and my best bud Mallory decided that since we are in this adventure together, we share lot's of the same thoughts, and we are both pretty sure this ain't our last rodeo together, we would just have a blog together.  So, this one promises to be better (hopefully), with shared thoughts, and more funny stories as well.  Cause let's face it, life in a 3rd world country has a lot more to it than hungry orphans; it entails sketchy boda boda men, awkward language barriers, and lack of public restrooms.  Enjoy!  Share with your friends so we can do this Kingdom work together.

http://hispicketfence.blogspot.com/

Streets of Gold

So the conversation pretty much went like this- “Hey guys, so abaana is going to do a documentary of what it is actually like for a street child in Uganda, so we were thinking we might sleep on the streets with them one night.  You wanna come?” 

And we said “Heck yes.”

We got to an area where a lot of the kids sleep.  It is well lit, so I figure they feel a bit safer there at night.  The streets are always busy with boda bodas and taxis zooming down it.  Not exactly a quiet place to lay your head down.  Needless to say the white people rolling up in the middle of around 50 homeless kids caused a bit of a stir.  We set down in the middle of some of the more quiet kids.  These boys were from around 8-12.  You could tell they were newer to the streets, mostly because our faces had the same look of not really knowing how this was going to turn out.  I sit down next to a boy named Alan, and he hands me a piece of box to sit on.  And so begins our night.  He had a look on his face that I won’t ever really forget.  A bit of confusion, but mostly he was glad someone was there to do this thing with him.  He didn’t care if I had any money or even food to give him.  He was just happy someone was there to stay near him.  That’s really the messy beauty in the street kid life, a family can just happen right there, simply because you are in it together. 

Once about 2am hit, we were all pretty tired, and we knew that if we didn’t at least try and sleep neither would these little guys.  So I spread my box on the ground, huddled close with Mallory, and pretended to close my eyes.  I guess there was just so much going on around me I didn’t want to miss it.  I didn’t want to miss the small kid next to me that couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of this random girl that decided to sleep on the streets.  Sometimes he would smile, or just look at my skin and the hair on my arms (African kids just aren’t that hairy), then he just grabbed my hand and we laid there.  Eventually he fell asleep, and so did I. 

We all woke up just before the sunrise and it was time to collect scrap metal and bottles to try and get money for food.  So for around 2 hours we walked near the slums, collected lots of bottles and some scrap.  Sacks full of bottles; hand in hand we walked to a buyer.  I think the kid that made the most had 1500 shillings (roughly 55 cents).  For most of these kids that is the only other option besides stealing or starving.  They collect trash bottles or scrap metal all day just to eat, and then go back to that same street or slum to try and rest. 

Every boy’s story is different.  Some are there because their parents were abusive, some just lost their parents to disease and death, no two stories are the exact same.  The only common ground all these kids have is they don’t want to be there.  They don’t want to be scared they will get beaten by the police, they don’t want to be thirsty and hungry all the time, and they want a family.  Just like every story is different, every kid is different.  They aren’t all sweet and innocent.  Some are really mad at the world and God, some use drugs off the street to numb themselves, some are really defiant and won’t dare listen to instruction.  But that’s not really the point is it? 

The longer that I walk the slums of Kampala, Uganda, the more I realize how little I have to offer.  The more I realize every problem can’t be “fixed” by feeble human works.   The more I realize how messy some of life can really get.  The more I see the broken fragments our sin has left on the once perfect garden God created for us. 

The longer I hold a kids hand the more I see God’s faithfulness. With every child put in a safe home the more I realize God’s promises. The more I do medical on the streets, the more I feel God guiding my hands and mind.  When the day seems so uncertain, I feel the consistency of our God. 

Some smart person once said that it wasn’t necessarily the fact that Jesus healed the lepers; it was the fact that Jesus touched the lepers.  Nobody touched lepers.  It just didn’t happen- they were dirty.  But that’s what God does; he touches the “untouchables” and reaches those who seem unreachable.

So it all comes down to what the disciples asked of Jesus.  Teach us how to pray.

“May your Kingdom come, on earth as it is in Heaven”

 In Heaven, kids won’t be starving.  In Heaven, they won’t collapse from dehydration.  In Heaven, they won’t be homeless.  In Heaven, 7 year olds won’t be using drugs to escape reality.  So, Jesus doesn’t want those things for his children now, and neither do I.  Heaven starts now if we are really listening to Jesus.

I think that for a lot of us (including myself on too many occasions), we have become numb.  We think things are the way they are because they just always have been.  They haven’t always been like this, and God is setting things right again, back to the natural order of things.  And I’m excited about it. 

^“4 You have been a refuge for the poor, 
   a refuge for the needy in their distress, 
a shelter from the storm 
   and a shade from the heat. 
For the breath of the ruthless 
   is like a storm driving against a wall 
 ⁵ and like the heat of the desert. 
You silence the uproar of foreigners; 
   as heat is reduced by the shadow of a cloud, 
   so the song of the ruthless is stilled.

 ⁶ On this mountain the LORD Almighty will prepare 
   a feast of rich food for all peoples, 
a banquet of aged wine— 
   the best of meats and the finest of wines. 
⁷ On this mountain he will destroy 
   the shroud that enfolds all peoples, 
the sheet that covers all nations; 
 ⁸ he will swallow up death forever. 
The Sovereign LORD will wipe away the tears 
   from all faces; 
he will remove his people’s disgrace 
   from all the earth. 
            The LORD has spoken.” –Isaiah 25:4-8

Trust.

God has been teaching me a lot about trust.  Funny thing is I thought I was pretty trusting.  I thought coming to Uganda meant that I really trusted in God’s voice speaking to me.  Over these past days I found myself living a very guarded, careful, even complacent life.  The more I read the bible the more the word TRUST jumps out at me and the more I realize I’m not really trusting my Dad.  Am I really trusting that God is going to redeem His people?  Does God really mean it when he says-

“He will swallow up death forever, Then the LORD GOD will wipe away the tears from all faces, and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth” –Isaiah 25:8

God doesn’t ask for just small areas of my heart, He asks for every bit of it.  When we hear those words do we really believe it?  When He asks me to give up my life for His, He means it.  So whether you are a homeless orphan on the streets of Uganda, or a middle class family in Tennessee, God is asking you to trust Him.  If we really believe Jesus is who he said He is, if we really believe the Holy Spirit is with us, then we can trust Him. 

This morning I read about how much Paul trusted God.  He trusted Him through pain, through joy, through action and in waiting.  I think each one of us desire trust more than anything.  God created this great need in each one of us to trust Him, so when we don’t it hurts and we feel separate from what He is doing.  It hurts God even more to see us not trust Him. My prayer for myself, my family in Uganda, as well as my family back in the United States is to trust God.  I pray that we can trust the Spirit of Jesus like Paul did.

“And now, as a captive to the Spirit, I am on my way to Jerusalem, not knowing what will happen to me there, except that the Holy Spirit testifies to me in every city that imprisonment and persecutions are waiting for me.  But I do not count my life of any value to myself, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the good news of God’s grace.” –Acts 20:22-24

Some days I get up, and I feel like a little kid learning how to walk all over again.  God’s in front of me with His arms spread wide as I make my way toward Him.  I fall a lot, sometimes I cry, sometimes I get mad, but in the end I know where I’m going.  I’m on my way to the restored Jerusalem, I’m not entirely sure what’s going to happen along the way, except that the Holy Spirit is with me every step.  Every day is an adventure here, we have made so many friends, we laugh way more then we cry, and we are all learning what trust means together.

“Commit your way to the LORD; trust him, and he will act.  He will make your vindication shine like the light, and the justice of your cause like the noonday.” Psalm 37:5-6

Beautiful are the Feet

So, kids don’t have shoes here.

 I set down a few times, wrote some paragraphs, then erased them because I was trying to write this to my friends in a way that would catch their eye, or pull at their hearts, or whatever you want to call it.  That’s dumb.  So here it is. 

There are a lot of homeless kids we have made friends with here.  We have been super blessed to clean and dress their wounds, teach them bible lessons, play games, and just be silly.  The thing is, a lot of them are in pain that they don’t have to be in.  For many, the backs of their little heals are falling off, and many of their toes are in bad shape.  It hurts them, and I know without a doubt if you saw it, you would be in pain too.  We feel other people’s pain because God lives inside us, and He hurts and cries when we do.  So it is natural to feel other’s pain.  It’s also natural and part of God’s heart to help and serve.

So, kids don’t have shoes, but they would sure love some.  If you are able and would like to donate funds for this, let me know. My email is at the top.