Everyone is Bilingual

Everyone is bilingual.

Have you ever tried to listen to your head and your heart at the same time?

It’s like the international departure lounge, you know you are going somewhere but you can’t understand a thing.

You see, we can speak both languages, but not at the same time.

Sometimes you just gotta let go of one and get on the dang plane.

I’ve got a first class ticket to heartland, departing now, arriving forever.

Kat Rascoe.

My Students Waving to You

"Hallo! How are you?" screams 75 third graders. These are the little ones that seem to find my dancing so funny. As I was struggling to find my groove as a teacher, I decided we should start class with a song. Well, singing always gets me dancing and that is when the laughter began. Two seconds of dancing and belly-laughter began filling the school room. Guess my calling wasn't to be a dancer.
Made this poster with all the fabulous art supplies I received in my care packages!

Writing on the chalkboard is such a challenge. I walk away from class speckled with what looks like dandruff but I assure you is just chalk dust! On the left is the P3 classroom and on the right is the P4 classroom.

This is school assembly after lunch. The teacher in charge will stand and lecture them and then they all say a prayer together and head to class.

Everyone Loves Hippos

"Hip-Hip-Hippopotamus, Hip-Hip-Hooray, God loves all of us" - How can you not smile when you see a hippo? So they aren't the prettiest animals, but they are rolly polly with pink bellies. And so they can take quite a bite outta you, but they love to play peek-a-boo in the water.

We went exploring for animals this is what we found.

Spiritual food

Have you ever felt an overwhelming deep spiritual thirst? Felt a consuming hunger that no longer will be quieted with mere crumbs? Psalm 63, “my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.”

I just realized how unknowingly spiritually blessed I have been these past two years. I was surrounded by bible studies where midshipmen unashamedly worshipped together, a church that preached straight from God’s word, a chaplain & his wife who showed God’s love to me every day, friends & family who prayed with/for me.

Here, I sit in church feeling as if I am sitting in an empty tomb. The foreign words roll right over my head and bounce lethargically around the large bare structure. I mouth words to songs I don’t understand, glancing around at the few who have shown up. Most are singing passionately, some even dancing as they worship God. And I just look on with a twinge of envy as I butcher the few words I am able to produce. I bow my head to pray and constantly peek to see if the prayer is over because unless a clear amen is said, I would never know. I walk out the doors two or three hours later with a subdued spirit and an earnest longing.

Every day is like a new miracle as I am awed by God’s greatness. I ache to share everything that He is doing with those who will be as amazed as I am. I hunger to receive guidance and fellowship from those who live for God. I thirst to sing enthusiastically, albeit off key, about Jesus’ endless love.

I spoke with someone else serving over here and realized this is a struggle for most, to find spiritual nourishment when in foreign lands. Please pray that the Holy Spirit will be a constant companion to me in the upcoming days.

Sharing the Laughter

Some days are rough, long, and heartbreaking; but today was not one of those days. Pure happiness and delight were woven through out every minute of this day. I captured some of the moments to share with you because words just didn’t fit.

Green Carpets of Uganda

Family and friends have persistently inquired as to what tea fields look/smell like. So here I am, sharing my secret garden with you - what I have fondly termed as the green carpet of Uganda.
Fort Portal rests on the mountain side; and everywhere you look, the mountain seems to have hiccupped little rolling hills, each softly coated in rows upon rows of green tea. At three feet tall, the tea bushes are woven together; deceivingly giving the appearance of one monster of a bush. The leaves and small pods are plucked by machines and workers to be made into the tea that I drink at 0630 when I am mumbling about killing the neighbor’s rooster.
Narrow paths crisscross the fields. As I run down these paths, my shoulders brush gently along the bushes on either side. My feet fall soundlessly as the soft soil muffles each heavy step of my run. From afar, I am invisible from the waist down, as if wearing one endlessly flowing green skirt. My breathe catches as I trudge up another hill - the mountain air taunting my weak lungs. I inhale deeply and gag as three gnats fly straight up my nose. So much for smelling the tea fields.

Young, Girly Stella

Stella

Let me introduce you to my very girly and young Ugandan friend, Stella Amooti. We first began our friendship as we met every afternoon out in the field for language lessons. She was so patient with me as I tried to mimic her every word. Often she would roll in laughter at my pronunciation.

She lives in the village with her mom, brother, gramma, and girl cousin. Her mom, Akiki, is one of the biggest blessing in the world and I thank God so much for her. She brought Stella up strictly, consequently her English and grades in school are very good. She has done an amazing job at raising her children on her own.

Stella and I no longer do language lessons but that has not stopped her from making the trek over each evening to visit with me. We sometimes sit and listen music, go for walks, garden, or our latest thing is to cook the evening meal together. Most times we cook way too much food and it gives me an opportunity to send it home with her for her family.

I have begun to treasure our time together in the evenings as a time to just relax and giggle with her. God has really put her on my heart as I long to be the good role model she is looking for. Recently she met this guy and constantly seeks to use my phone to call him and speaks of her wishes for me to take her to the city to see him. I forget that she is a sixteen year old girl. I struggle to find the balance between being a confidant, a fun young friend, and a role model. Please pray for us as our friendship grows. Pray that I will give advice and guidance with caution and after much prayer.

City Bed Bugs vs Village Sticky Hands

I spent the past week in the city with American families who were evacuated from the village because of the Ebola epidemic. The week pasted slowly full of guilty pleasures of good food and real toilets. By the end of the long drive back, I sluggishly fell out of the car and twirled the knob on my door as if it were second nature. I waited for the wave of “you’re home finally” to wash over me but the musty air hung silent around my sun burned shoulders. I unpacked with care knowing that the bed bugs from the city bed were probably crawling all over my luggage. I awoke the next morning and with a heavy tread, made my way to the babies’ home. As I entered the gates, I heard my name being shouted, “katee, katee, katee”! It was like a symphony of angels singing welcome home. My feet seemed to fly as I raced to hug each little one with a passion I didn’t know I felt. I ached to weep as each child tried in one breath to tell me everything I had missed and ask if I had been lost for the past week. I just kept nodding, not understanding 75% of it, but it didn’t seem to faze them as their tiny sticky hands grasped every inch of me. Through out the day as I was stopped by a number of people, all asking if I had been lost for the past week, I was struck with the realization that I had genuinely missed the people. Fort Portal has become home.

Network of Love

Time and again my mouth falls open in a most unladylike manner, settling in this position as my brain struggles to grasp the unexpected gift of love. I began this blog as a way to share with friends back home in one felt swoop. And yet God has used it to encourage me to no ends. I have received countless emails from people who found it through someone who knew someone who knew me or even through googling “Uganda toilet paper” on the internet. (shout out to my new friend from Australia) Each email re-news my spirit as these complete strangers offer their support and prayers. Realizing that though perhaps to them it was just five short minutes out of their day which will never be re-visited, it made a world of difference to me.

A small act of kindness given to an unsuspecting victim could make a heap of difference.

New Year Thanks!

Happy New Years one and all. And yes, I realize that most of you still have eight hours to go but we just celebrated with a glass of Cold Duck champagne. The aroma of burning tires swirl around my head as I watch flares burn in the sky, local makeshift fireworks. I am so excited for this new year and yet have so much to be thankful for from this past year. Please know that I am sending my love to you all.

This is me - christmas day as I hugged my care package to my chest in childish delight. Thank you Kathryn and mom!

I ask that you pray for me as this upcoming year unfolds. I haven’t ever been one of those people who learn a hard lesson and then never make the same mistake twice. Too often I repeatedly stumble over the same hiccup – picture me touching the stove a second time to see just how hot it really is. This week I find myself falling flat on my face once again.

I sent in my re-admission packet to the United States Naval Academy. I can’t help but worry about getting back in and what my next year holds. I willingly trusted God and followed Him across the world to Africa; and yet I still hesitate to trust Him concerning my future. Though my heart longs to return to the Academy, I pray that God will show me clearly what His will is for me and that I will learn to trust Him in everything. May this next year be as fabulous as the last.

Kudos to the Working Girl

The other day as I lay utterly exhausted with cuts covering my knees and a large burn on my hand, I thought of how all my life I have been taken care of. Growing up with parents who sacrificed daily to give me what they couldn’t afford, going to a school where my food & laundry were all done for me, and biggest of all just living in America.

When arriving in Africa I expected all this would change and a large part of it has; but one surprise was that I would have a local village lady work a few mornings for me – hand washing clothes and such. I protested that I did not need it and could do the work myself but was told that this was the lady’s whole income. Needless to say, I did not take away her job. With the holidays she had plans to be gone for a few weeks, and I looked forward to the extra work or so I thought.

That day I decided would be my full work day and I would get everything done that she would normally do. I scrubbed a heaping pile of laundry with a brush, two buckets, and detergent that strips all skin from your hands. By the sixth trip to re-fill my water buckets my back began to complain loudly with my knees soon following suit. I felt as if every line on my hands were being eaten away. As I rinsed and hung the laundry up to dry, it dawned on me that it was not even noon yet. I was ready to stop for the day but there was still a full working day ahead of me. I moved to hoeing the garden to prepare the soil for planting tomorrow. As the sun began to gift me with more freckles, I dropped to my knees to pick up rocks. After I had carted away the rocks, the walls & floors of the washroom, cook room, and living rooms were calling out my name. The fire had to be made and the baking for the week still needed to be finished. By this time the laundry was ready to be taken down and folded. Once all this was done, my body protested loudly to all movement and I collapsed on the floor.

Oh man, kudos to the working girls of old!

Hazardous Fruit Bearing

Went to the market where I managed to fall flat on my face in front of a huge crowd. Yep, graceful is my middle name. I was carrying my bag, two watermelons, and two pineapples when I tripped over a root but having no free hand to catch myself just fell. Everyone quickly rushed to help me, repeatedly saying sorry though they were faultless. Embarrassment flushed across my face and my body screamed in pain but I didn’t want to cry in front of all these people. So picking myself up, I limped to a bodah bodah to get a ride home. Vulnerability poured from every pour as I painfully stumbled around to pick up my smashed fruit off the ground.

I was sharing this with a dear friend when she told me that I should write and tell of how God is helping me grow in the fruits of the spirit through these experiences. I need lots of growth in these areas: love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance.
But as I was whining about my embarrassment and pain - I shamefully forgot to share how God did use this situation. As I rode home on the bodah bodah sniffling to myself, I got a chance to know the driver who had seen me fall. He shared about his family and things he has been through growing up. Bruises fade away but I hope that this friendship will grow and last.

Ultimate Homesickness

Yesterday was my first day of utter homesickness. It didn’t help that I was exhausted from a very late night and a long day of work. Around 1630 I shut all my curtains, locked the doors, and huddled up on the floor with a stash of care package cookies (thank you Kathryn). I sat there in silence as the evening darkness wrapped around me like a heavy quilt. I didn’t rise to light the candles or make dinner; I just remained in a position of complete pitiful-ness. Finally I reached for an unopened card from a loved one and read, “I would totally throw myself on a bee for you.” I smiled and not thirty minutes later I got a phone call from one of my best friends.

But this small sliver of joy soon faded as the phone card cut us off, the batteries ran out on my cd player, the candles began to dwindle, and the dark silent night wore on. I turned on my computer which had 20 minutes of battery remaining to watch a slide show of my pictures from home. Not a smart idea when stubbornly stuck in the ditch of loneliness. I awoke and began to pray for a peace and happiness.

I was so intent on missing my loved ones back home that I was refusing to make room in my heart to love those around me. As if my heart was holding it’s breath till I got home. I was willing to love them but always with the distant thought that I will be saying goodbye to them in 6 months. My prayer now is that I will learn to love passionately, boldly, and without fear. “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear…”

Oh Christmas Tree!

Well, it is finally Christmas time. My favorite time of the year as all my friends know - I began listening to Christmas music around October. I found a small Charlie Brown fake Christmas tree here and decorated it with popcorn and ribbon. Don't laugh...I make do with what I can find. It doesn't feel like Christmas at all but I really haven't missed it. The people here have been so kind to me. I have a dark chocolate bar under my tree, care package, a plate of cookies, and a few fabulously wrapped gifts. I love you all! Merry Christmas!

Loving the Un-lovable

I have always thought that loving children was like second nature to me. I am a huge push over when it comes to kids. And nine times out of ten, you can find me at the kids table rather than with the adults. Granted there are some pills every now and then but kids are normally pretty loveable…or so I thought. I know most parents who have had to put up with obnoxious children are laughing at my warped view of angelic children. I have since seen the error of that kind of thinking.

Out of the 40 babies/kids at the home, there are just 3-4 whom have managed to frustrate me to no end. They are around five years old and my jaw clenches at just the thought of how they behave. They will do anything for attention, including: hitting me, messing up my hair, tearing at my clothes or jewelry, pushing other children out of my lap to get in it, choking the little ones to see if I will re-act, crying or screaming, and anything they think of. They don’t understand English and I have no authority to discipline them.

Today, I sat feeding a three week old baby girl; and in my head, I began to list which kids I would adopt and which I wouldn’t. Never have I felt such shame as when I realized that I was saying that some were not worthy of love or adoption. How I was so quick to offer love to those who I felt were worthy and yet was ready to give up on the others.

I don’t know how Jesus does it, how He loves all of us who are so very unworthy. God doesn’t just adopt those who are cute and obedient – He loves the unlovable. Please pray that God will open my heart to love these four children with the same unconditional love that is lavished upon me. "Jesus loves the little children, all the little children of the world. Red & yellow, black & white – they are precious in His sight."