Great Expectations.

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I find it quite hard to write these days. Whereas before my page seemed to fill itself with adventures, new friends, lessons learned, and exciting stories- these days there are almost too few stories to tell. Of course, I could tell you about the adventures of living with a family of six, the time our shoes got stolen, or the time a giant insect that has yet to be identified crawled its way into my bed and just toppled over and died… right next to my face.

Though it seems those stories are fairly entertaining- I have a feeling those are not the stories many of you have come to expect. Many of you, like myself, have come to expect these grandeur novels about adjusting to Ugandan life, stories of triumph, the cheesy inspirational bumper stickers I have so proudly typed out for you, or the journey of my self-discovery in a country so insanely far from my reality- or what my reality used to be. I actually wish I had a story to tell you, but just like the seasons here in Uganda are somewhat changing yet stagnant in this confusion of intense heat and a little rain… I find myself here in Uganda in my own confusion season.

Whether or not you plan for it, work your butt off to keep them away, or simply think you won’t, when you embark on a crazy God adventure you always, and I mean always, come with expectations. When God plants an idea in our hearts, a seed if you will, we imagine what that seed looks like in a month, six months, two years. Is it a giant willow tree growing insanely tall and doing abundantly more than it’s so brave and naïve beginning? Or does it end like a sunflower in this blazing heat that sits in the sun so long, it inevitably scorches? Does it even blossom? Does the rain ever even come?

Here I am, showing you all my cards… It is really easy to say, and frankly I am guilty of it, that we’re following Jesus with “no expectations”. We read about people in the bible with their triumphant success, and brave stature and assume that they did this, and it almost seems heroic. We assume faith refuses any and all expectations. That’s why when people set off to do crazy things for the Kingdom, and they say they have “no expectations” we applaud them. That is faith at its finest. Or so I thought. What I’ve learned is that this couldn’t be farther from the truth and if we don’t recognize it, if we don’t catch on to this trend… we will all find ourselves trapped in this sea of guilt, shame, and defeat because we thought ourselves to be these faithful servants and somewhere down the line were let down by the expectations we tried so hard to leave behind in our heroic declarations of “faith”. I think about Noah, who had to have been one of the most faith-driven figures the Bible tells of. When God said “do”, he did. No questions asked. But I have to think about the 2nd or 3rd day after God told him what to do, when he had to actually put that “yes” into action. Noah, being as human as you and I, must have been thinking to himself, “What is this boat going to look like?”, “Are people going to believe me? Am I going to be the one to convert these sinners?”, “Will people listen to my preaching?”, and in his mind he probably crafted a version of what his story would look like. Not knowing what the future held, what a flood looked like, what rain felt like, if his OWN life was to be spared- his mind probably tried to form a vision. A vision of what he was working toward. Now, of course none of us will know this until he welcomes us into the gates of heaven and we can sit down and drink a Dr. Pepper with him (yeah, there is most definitely going to be Dr. Pepper in heaven), and hear the story from his own lips. So until then, I am just going to assume he had the same anxious imaginative tendencies as myself to further prove my point (and y’all none of that is in the bible, I’m just goin’ with the whole “human” aspect… so please no one call me a “false preacha”): 

We all carry expectations. With everything we do. Our minds are too far advanced to give in to the unknown- we create a known, and we proceed forward with that idea. Which isn’t always bad, but that is where faith comes in. Faith is coming with a vision (an expectation) while understanding that it has a 50/50 chance of unfolding the way we planned or envisioned, sometimes even a 80/20 chance… and still proceeding forward. Faith is saying ‘yes’ knowing that we may succeed, or we could miserably fail. Faith is knowing that if we fail, we failed in the name of Jesus Christ and He will have so perfectly placed His hands at the bottom of that cliff we eagerly stepped off of when we said that word ‘yes’. The trouble is, without faith, when we come with expectations we will inevitably find ourselves in that sea of guilt, shame, and defeat. And once we’re in, it’s a grueling process to emerge from.

All of this to say, sometimes, our expectations are not met, and that’s okay. Some days here I feel like I’m caught in that scene from ‘500 Days of Summer’ where the character Tom finds himself living the reality that is MILES different from the expectations he set. I, despite the amount of times I tried to convince myself that I was ready for ‘anything’, had an image in my head of what my time here would look like. And that’s not to say that my time here hasn’t been worthwhile, I just have to be extremely intentional about finding my purpose in every day and I must accept that some days look like walking to town, treating myself to an Iced Mocha (also to be served in heaven) and letting myself write. The goals I set out to conquer, the vision or expectation I set before coming, are proving more difficult than I originally intended them to be. Not impossible, just difficult. And that’s okay. So far this week I visited my sweet E-girl, read a book, and wrote this blog post. That’s it. And I am learning to be okay with that. Those are my days here. And while I am certain God is moving, and my days will evolve, and my season will change- right now, I am learning to enjoy this confusion season of intense heat and a little rain.




Two days ago, I began reading this amazing book called “Little Bee”. It was a fantastic book, and I recommend it to everyone that is reading this. A beautiful story, really. What I don’t recommend is rushing to get to the end. I found myself so anxious to uncover the story, so impatient to read the ending… that I rushed through all the good parts, all the in-between parts that make the story what it is. I was proud when I finished, until I realized that I missed the richness the book offered and once I arrived at the end, the in-between parts became just that: an in-between. Today I find myself in an in-between stage, an insignificant part that makes up the story. I can rush it, and the ending will come much quicker- or I can wait, be patient, find some joy and the ending will come much sweeter.

And I guess that is the million-dollar question: Do we want to find our ending quicker or sweeter?


I choose sweet.

Blind, Scary, and Fatal.

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Noah said yes.
Abraham let go.
Moses led forth.
Gideon leaned in.
David stood tall. 
Esther spoke up.
Mary believed.
Joseph trusted.
Peter stepped out.

Sometimes I forget who has gone before me. Who lived before my time, and set the pace of the race we’re all running. Sometimes I forget that they, too, endured. Sometimes I forget that Jesus did triumph. 

I forget… until I read these stories and see the immeasurable, unfathomable, and fatal trust these men and women had. Noah built the ark. Abraham led his son to the altar. Moses walked through the sea. Gideon put down his weapons in the middle of a war. David stood below a giant. Esther risked her life. Mary carried the Son of God into the world, while Joseph trusted the Lord through it. And Peter walked on water. 

I want trust like that. I want trust that knows no bounds. I want trust like Noah, who said yes to something before he even knew what it was. Noah, a man that had never seen a flood before. A man that had never even seen RAIN yet He trusted God and obeyed Him. I want faith like that- faith that says ‘yes’, and then walks blindly. Though dark, though scary, though lonely, though uncomfortable… faith that walks side by side with Jesus the whole way. Faith that doesn’t look down. Faith that doesn’t ask questions. Blind, scary, fatal faith.

This new adventure I am on, to me, looks much like Noah’s. He was told, and He said yes. I was told, and I have said yes. Much like Noah, I have absolutely no idea what is being asked of me. The “flood” that Noah knew nothing about? I have a flood coming my way. Jesus has set before me people to guide me and He is whispering His plan slowly but surely in my ear. What I’ve learned so far is that I must wait on Him. His timing is perfect. Just like His will, His timing is sure. It may be slow, but it is sure. 



While my days feel unfinished, while the days to come feel so unexpected, and while I feel so stretched and uncomfortable through it all- I am walking with God. I am saying ‘yes’. & I will build an ark if I have to. 

The trust part I’m learning daily. Somedays I am solid, and others I falter. But I am still saying ‘yes’. No matter the cost I am saying ‘yes’. Because I know the Lord has gone before me, walks beside me, and is closer than the very breath I breathe. 


Blind, scary, fatal faith. That is the pace set for us… by our very own brothers and sisters and more importantly by a God that knows you can. Live like the God of the universe knows you can. Blind, scary, fatal faith.  


more than the music.

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One of my favorite nights here at the Sole Hope Staff/Intern house is worship night. Since none of us really play any instruments (besides IC[ey] Lis, she can play the intro to Wonderwall amongst other old 90’s songs..), worship night to us is laying in our lantern-lit living room with no power, listening and singing along to Hannah’s worship playlist. Tonight the song ‘Holy Spirit” by Bryan and Katie Torwalt played, and I couldn’t help but think of the last time I sang that song back in the states.

The last time I sang that song, my worship atmosphere looked so much different than it does today. The experience was filled with amps, guitars, tracks, vocalists (lets be real, it doesn’t get much better than Chandler), lights, and hundreds of people packed in a high school cafeteria. We sang loud and felt the thickness of the Holy Spirit, begging him to fill the place. Hands in the air, I praised the Lord with everything in me and He felt so present, almost tangible.


Today, my worship looks drastically different. Musically speaking, my worship looks like either uncomfortably laying on the wood floor, or squished on a hard tiny couch while listening to music through a Jambox. What I’ve learned is, the worship Jesus is asking of me was never meant to be solely through music, but the adoration He wants from me is in the form of love, obedience, and trust. Worship is so often seen as musical, which is most definitely a form of worship - but it doesn’t fully encompass what it means to truly worship God.

In a church setting, when you obsess over a song being perfect, lights being exact, and technical malfunctions - you are essentially saying that God isn’t big enough to reach people THROUGH the technical complications and imperfect entertainment. The same is true in loving, being obedient, and trusting with everything. When we obsess about making the right steps, having the perfect conditions in which we obey Jesus, and the risk it is to love… we are essentially saying that our God isn’t big enough to reach people THROUGH our imperfection, slightly less than ideal circumstances, and the human hurt of a fallen world.

Worship was never meant to be entertainment, it was meant to share the gospel and be an outward expression of praise.

The great thing about this is that it should remind us that it isn’t us that are doing the saving. God doesn’t expect us to save... so the music you play isn’t going to make people love Jesus, the perfect moments you create aren’t going to make people love Jesus, and the words we speak aren’t going to make people love Jesus. Jesus will reveal himself IN the music, IN the perfect moments, and IN the words. He is doing the saving, not us. We need to make a conscious effort to make our lives less about us reaching people (while yes, still important), and more about adoration to God. Worship isn’t something we do to bring people to Christ: worship is worship and God USES that praise to reach people. When we see worship as a task, its not worship anymore. Worship is WILLFUL.

Romans 12: 9-21, to me is a clear depiction of what it means to worship.
We are asked to…

-love sincerely
-be devoted to one another
-honor neighbors above yourself
-be joyful in hope
-be patient in affliction
-be faithful in prayer
-practice hospitality
-not be proud
-not be conceited
-not take revenge
-be peaceful
-do what is right

Worship goes way beyond playing music onstage, speaking in front of a congregation, running a ministry, or singing along to a no-power-lantern-lit-jambox-worship sesh.

Every single one of the actions asked of us in Romans 12:9-21 can be done today.

 I once read a blog where the guy stated, “The more you can work yourself into a state of bliss in feeling like you are really achieving a state of ‘worship’ by letting yourself go in the music and rhythm of the ‘worship’ time, the more you can justify what you are doing the rest of the week when you are not ‘worshipping’ God.  This ‘worship’ then becomes an excuse and justification process whereby Christians can rid themselves of the guilt of not obeying the Lord in their lives.  This is not to say that true worship is not done in the time now called ‘worship’.  It can be a time of worship, but worship without obedience is no worship at all.”

We must make an effort to worship every single day. Not just singing at church, not just serving, not just working in ministry, but with every word we speak. With every thought we think. With every single breath of our being.


Jesus deserves THAT kind of adoration.

choose light.

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It is very easy to see evil. It is very easy to notice bad. It is very easy to be negative.

Especially here in Uganda.

It is heartbreaking to hear the stories, but even more heartbreaking watching how true they are. Witnessing fathers abandon their families. Mothers neglecting their children. Orphanages in dire need of extra help, diapers, and clean clothes. It is heartbreaking to watch a child suffering from HIV shivering, hurt, and sick...when you can do nothing. It is heartbreaking to hold children that were given up. Left. Abandoned. Malnourished. Neglected. Sick. With nothing. This is what truly makes my heart break.

Yet, this morning I woke up and read this verse:

"The Word gave life to everything that was created, and His life brought light to everyone. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it." John 1.4-5


Today, I witnessed all of these things. I saw the darkness, and I watched evil work. I saw the brokenness of the world, and I felt the pain of human beings. And still without a doubt, I knew... darkness cannot hide in the light. Jesus brought light, and that light was left behind for us. It was left in your home, on the corner of your street, in the house of your neighbor, at your local market, in the mud-made huts that fill the villages of Uganda, in every home on every street in every city, state, country, and continent. That light was left for us. God knew the darkness that was present- and He sent His son to bring light that would conquer. 

Surrounded in darkness, it is our decision to look for light. Because it is there, we just have to look hard enough.

Today, while angry and frustrated at the darkness. Frustrated that I, in my imperfect brokenness, have and will add to that darkness. Frustrated that there is such a thing as darkness- decided to look for light.

What I saw, was just that-

I saw Getu, our sweet girl suffering major burns from a kerosene lamp, being loved on by her mother. Sitting on her mama's lap singing songs together. Holding hands. Today I saw the love of a mother, who would sacrifice everything for her daughter. Spending each and everyday devoted to helping her daughter heal. Spending every waking moment committed to creating a happy successful future for her baby girl. Today, I witnessed that selfless kind of love. 

I saw Rashid, an outreach child staying with us here at Sole Hope. Holding his tummy probably wishing he was somewhere familiar, feeling sick and sad and scared. I got to sit next to this sweet, toothless boy, and rub his tummy- just like my mama did for me when I was sick. As he drifted to sleep under the shade of the tree, lying on a papyrus mat, I thanked Jesus for allowing me to be surrounded by light. Loving this child. Praying for him. Being strangely comforted miles away from home. Enjoying every bit of his sleepy presence. Today, I witnessed that innocent kind of love.

























I saw Waiswa, the sweetest cuddly boy in the world. Running full speed towards me as I walk through the gates of the orphanage. Throwing his arms around my neck, and holding on for dear life... seriously never letting go. Sitting under a tree, taking pictures, climbing on me like I am his own personal jungle gym, brushing the hair out of my face, and just being so darn cute. Today, I witnessed that unconditional kind of love.






































Today I saw sweet Esther, the girl with the most heart-melting smile in all of Uganda. Laying on a mat, covered in flies- smiling her gorgeous smile. Laying so tiny in my arms. So fragile. So serene. So perfect. Today, I saw that sweet kind of love.


























That light, the one Jesus left us, it looks like love. Selfless, innocent, unconditional, and sweet kind of love. And despite the darkness, it does surround us. Just look. Then choose it.

Meet the Fambam.

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This morning we had to say goodbye to the sweetest babes in the world. Over the last week, the connection we made with these children grew and grew and grew. The smiles, giggles, eye brow raises, tickles, kisses, and dances we shared will go with me always. I consider these babies part of my family, now.

I want to introduce you to my new brothers and sisters-

This is Alawasi:




Alawasi is the sweetest kid. Our favorite game to play is "chase and tickle". I chase him, I catch him, I tickle him, and then shower him with kisses on his forehead and cheeks saying "Kwagalanyo" [I love you so much] over and over and over again. This kid is TOOTALLY going to be a photographer one day. From Day 1 with him, he has loved playing with my camera and watching him take pictures was probably the cutest thing in the world- and he is weirdly talented for a village kid thats never seen a camera before. He does this thing where instead of saying yes or at least shaking his head, he raises his eye brows. It kills you. This little one is going to be a heart breaker one day. He is smart, kind, funny, unbelievably talented, and absolutely adorable. Alawasi, my brother, kwagalanyo.

These are the two cutest sisters, Rovisa and Nairuba:




These girls are hard to crack smiles out of, but once you do, SO WORTH IT. Rovisa and Nairuba were both soft-spoken, collected, and bashful little ones. Yet their spunky personalities came out every so often, like the time I caught Rovisa and Alawasi having a straight up photoshoot. I mean seriously, look at that pose.... Okay, covergirl. Nairuba was pretty much the certified swing pusher- whenever someone needed pushing, Nairuba was on the job. These two are going to be the most successful, warm-hearted, and crazy sisters. I love it so much. Rovisa and Nairuba, my sisters, kwagalanyo.








This is Waiswa:



Waiswa is our serious kiddo... But he can't keep a serious face too long. Eventually he cracks and breaks that sweet sweet smile. Waiswa was here a shorter time than the rest, but I think we ended up getting each other just fine. He knew that whenever I looked at him, I was getting ready to chase him and tickle him so eventually he just started running from me every time without fail. He is a sweetheart, and I can tell you now, he will grow up to be a hard-working, loving man. Waiswa, my brother, kwagalanyo.














This is our old man, Pious:



Pious is a miniature Bill Cosby. We decided today, we'd kill to see him in a sweater vest and loafers. When he sits, he crosses his legs and folds his hands. His laugh is contagious, and when he giggles, he rattles his tongue against his teeth- sounds weird, SUPER adorable. He grabs your hands, taps your shoulders, and points where he wants to go. Loves to be carried, and thinks swinging on my lap facing me is the funniest thing in the world. He doesn't quite understand the camera yet, but in due time. This baby is a huge ball of cuteness. Pious, my brother, kwagalanyo [like a million times].


This is my sweet Viola:



Cuddling with this girl- oh my heart. Her big, puffy cheeks are to die for. We had some pretty great enos  hangs, and napped listening to the creatures of Uganda and some Rend Collective. She loved being held, and when she giggles she covers her mouth. It is the sweetest thing. Every once in a while she showed us her out-going side, which usually ended up being the greatest. day. ever. Little Viola will always hold a special place in my heart. I can't wait to visit her. Viola, my sweet sister, kwagalanyo.













































To all of my outreach brothers and sisters- Kwagalanyo a million times.
You will be in my heart forever and ever.
Katonda Mulungi, my brothers and sisters.


Meaningless.

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Everything is meaningless. We read Ecclesiastes and think, “yeah, I could simplify my life a bit…” and then we proceed to downsize our closets and usually get rid of most of our clothing: at least, the stuff that was generally the cheapest. I never once thought twice about the word, “everything”. Never once looked at this verse through the lens I am seeing through today in Jinja, Uganda.

Everything here, means everything. Not like back home where everything means everything MINUS our everyday starbucks, free people dresses, anthropologie candles, “thrifted” household items (lets be real, thrifting these days is way more expensive than shopping at regular stores…) and the comforts of air conditioning, purified water, and houses with wood floors and real beds.

Of course, these things aren’t bad things- we live in a completely different culture that separates us from the struggles and pains of the rest of the world- which isn’t anyone’s fault. But if we don’t allow ourselves to feel this everything, the everything I am seeing today, we might never have the opportunity to feel the Lord speaking above the noise in the place we are in today. If we don’t SEARCH for this everything, the kind that I am seeing today- we might go our entire lives just remaining comfortable. Where enough from us is juuuust enough.  

The kind of everything I am seeing is the kind that goes without mothers and fathers. Baby strapped to a baby’s back walking the red dirt roads completely alone. I am seeing houses made with mud, leaves, bricks, and clay, ja ja’s hanging dirty tattered clothing on lines outside of their huts, I am seeing children barefoot, infected, and in so much pain. I am seeing kids my own cousins’ age not in school, wondering what their futures look like. I am seeing the hurt, the poor, the broken, the lost, and the needy. I’m seeing all of it.



And yet, I see joy. I see laughter. I see children with flies in their open cuts looking up at me, grabbing my hands to hold. I see children shouting “muzungu” with cheery-filled eyes. I see little ones chasing after our van on their freshly pricked feet , jigger free, hopefully for good. I see love. I see rejoicing. I see faith. I see The Lord.



My first two days in Jinja, I’ve seen people that are alone, tattered, infected, in pain, hurt, poor, broken, lost, and in need. But amidst all of this- amidst the struggle, I have seen JOY. I have seen laughter, cheery-filled eyes, hope, goodness, love, rejoicing, and faith. Amidst all of this, I have seen The Lord.

With every obstacle conquered, I am reminded of how amazing The Lord is. With every tear shed, I am reminded how strong The Lord is. With every child healed, I am reminded how present The Lord is. And with every smile shared, I am reminded how good The Lord is.


It has been 3 days here in Jinja. 3 days working with Sole Hope, watching the impact, and the movement God is creating here. 3 days falling in love with this country, the red dirt, and the people in it. So right now, I am sweaty, sticky, smelly, covered in mosquito bites, and I am reminded: Everything is meaningless. All that matters is how we love. All that matters is choosing joy. In the words of my new Ugandan friend, “Live the life you want to leave behind…”



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