Uganda: a different process

Usually when I come home I weep for a couple of days simply because I never know the next time I will see the beautiful people I love overseas. I weep because I never know what to do with everything I've seen. How to process it, how to help fix it and how to go back to 'normal' life. However, this time begin home I feel so much different. I haven't cried- except last night when I was  exhausted. To keep myself awake in the car on the way home, I told my family all about Uganda. I told them about how heart breaking, yet life changing it is. Told them about the culture differences. I talked about somethings so passionately that my throat is sore from it still. I talked about seeing my kids over there and fought my emotions when I talked about one of my girls home life. 

She lives in a Muslim family and her house is the size of my pool house- the only difference is, they don't have any power and there are 10 people living in the home. As I told my family how bad I wanted to bring her out of the situation, to make her my own. I realized that it wouldn't help her. It wouldn't help me and it wouldn't help her family. Sure, I could love her so much, but I could never replace the love of her mother (because you could tell her mother loved her, just by the way she looked at her)-- I could help financially by taking one of the children off their hands. I could give her clothes, a hot shower and electricity. I could bring her to America and give her the best education she could ever get, but that's not what I feel peace about doing. 

The night I dropped her off at home I cried the way back to my hotel because my heart broke. To know that she was in our care for 4 months in America- where I wouldn't let her walk places alone, she couldn't go outside when it was dark, she had three meals a day, she had medicine when she needed it, she showered daily, she had clothes when she needed them, but knowing that at home she had no such luxuries- it's hard. However, I knew she had Jesus and that had to be enough. As I thought about ways to get her, I never felt peace. I've tried to figure out why for a week now -- it wasn't until I was telling my family about her yesterday that it fully clicked. I can't take her because she is the only light to her family, she is the only one who can help them know the truth. She is the only one in her community, which is 85% Muslim, who can help her mother, father and siblings know who our Jesus truly is. 

Does it break my heart to see her living situation? Of course. But do I know that her mother would put her and her sibling before her own life, absolutely. Does it hurt to know that I can't give her a new dress everytime she needs one, yes. But that's the thing about Africa, they don't need those things. What they need is food, shelter, love and Jesus and my sweet girl has those things. She knows her mission since being home, it's been the same since she became a Christian two two years ago. -- be a light to my family. 

She's taught me so much. 

I am forever thankful for her pure heart, her smile, her light that shines no matter where, her beauty, how she holds my hand, and for her commitment to Jesus and to her family.