What do I have??

It feels like a miracle that I am sitting here typing my journal tonight. I am really beat. I didn’t sleep at all last night because I felt so sick. I had severe cramping pains in my abdomen and finally decided to see an African doctor at 12:00 noon.

We went to the clinic and I couldn’t get a full breath. We were sitting in a small and very full waiting room. I was feeing very sick and the doctor must have noticed because he opened a consultation door for me and ushered me in. I would have thought that I was specially treated because I was American… but I can honestly say I was the “sickest” person in there.

He began tapping on my abdomen and back. Both were incredibly painful. His eyes showed concern. He left the room to grab a nurse and a blood pressure machine. I turned over on the small table trying to get comfortable and noticed only one thing in the sparse room, a large oxygen tank. Nothing else was available at this clinic other than that one tank and a small microscope. I cried when he left the room. I thought to myself, “What if I am seriously sick? What if I need surgery? Where do I go?” Questions were running through my head like a freight train.

Without proper equipment, he could not rule out a kidney infection or appendicitis. So, he told me I had to go to a clinic ½ hour away for an ultrasound of my kidney and appendix. I left there feeling really weak and even more scared. When I got to the ultrasound clinic, I had to wait for 5 hours. I began to notice the pain subsiding a little by the 4^th hour.

During the long wait, I imagined them finding something awful in my right kidney. I have had a stone in that one since 2001. For years my biggest fear has been that thing dropping while I was overseas. I tried to have it removed years ago without success because it was so large. I kept thinking in that crowded clinic that maybe the stone moved. The questions droned on, “Without the advancement of medicine in Africa, would they have to cut open my back to retrieve it? How long would I be in a hospital and what would the hospital be like?” But even so, I kept praying and telling God that I would trust Him even though I was afraid.

When I was called, I changed into a robe, laid on the table and clenched my teeth when the cold gel touched my skin. The technician said, “Your bladder is not full. You need to drink 4 bottles of water and come back.” What? Sheesh. That seemed impossible. Well, 4 bottles of water and ½ hour later I was back on the table… His instrument traveled under my ribs searching for the cause of pain. When the kidney came into view, I recognized it immediately. But something looked strange… I couldn’t see the stone. “Sir,” I asked questioningly… “Do you see a stone in there?” He smiled a gap-toothed smile, “No Mam, I don’t see a thing.”

I left that clinic with a clean bill of health. After a urine test, blood test, ultrasound of the pancreas, kidney, appendicitis, duodenum, intestine, and gallbladder, malaria screening and 9 hours of waiting, the pain eased. I went home feeling tired but relieved.

I have thought today about the ability to get quality doctor care here. How frustrating it must be for doctors to not have the available diagnosing equipment in emergency situations. But even more than that, I think I have a better understanding of what Africans go through, even when they are in extreme pain. By God’s grace, my pain was decreasing. But what would have happened if it had increased? What African person has sat in these very clinics and has felt so afraid of dying without having access the proper help, medicine or equipment? Someone told me that there are 5 ambulances in Kampala. Not that I have ever seen one. How is it possible to care for more than 2 million people that way?

I came away from this situation enlightened and more in tune with what African’s as a whole feel when they are sick. I can’t even imagine if I didn’t have money. To have no control and no assistance, it is a nightmare. I think God allowed this experience so I could empathize better with the sick and poor. I cried, I worried, I prayed, and I waited just like all other Africans. Can I just say how much I appreciate the United States??

Ultrasound in Africa: $37.49 (9 hour wait) Ultrasound in America: $?? (1 hour wait)

Bottom line - I probably have a virus in my large intestine!

The Wisdom of Children

So Nathan has not been complaining lately. I have noticed that he has a smile on his face almost all day long and he seems content. I was walking with him today and I said to him, “So it seems that you have been pretty happy.” He laughed at me and said, “Well, I have this new theory… you have to be okay with what you have. And we have food, family, a house and internet…what else do I need?” I am still smiling at the last thing on the list. I guess internet comes pretty high on the needs list!

But seriously I am pretty amazed at his decision to choose liking it here. He just decided to be content one day. How interesting. Why can’t I do that? There is wisdom in children! I want to learn that too… contentment.

Speaking of children, Ben and I have met a family here that has a ministry called “Father’s House”. They are an interesting mixed family of Ukrainian, American and Ugandan children. I think there are about 18 people living in their house about 30 minutes from here. I had an opportunity to talk to Jessica the 15 year old American from that family. She had lots of wisdom too!

She was telling me about her life as a missionary (she has been one longer than me!) and how she has had to give God everything… all her hopes, all her dreams, her whole life. She surrendered it to Him and begged Him to meet her needs. She told me He has given back so many of her desires and she trusts that He has her best interests in mind.

As I was listening to her I realized that I have held on to so many things, and I am miserable for it. I have especially held on to my kids. I want so much for them to be happy and not suffer. I don’t want them to loose out on things because we are called to missions. I had no idea that when God was calling me to GFR he would be calling me to let go of my children’s futures. Honestly, I have a hard time believing that He has their best interests in mind even if they have to suffer losses.

But as I listened to Jessica, I realized that my children have their own relationship with God and they belong to Him. He is drawing them to Himself. As Jessica said, “God used my emptiness to pull me into Him.” What a testimony.

God I pray that you would use my children’s emptiness and losses to draw them into You just like Jessica. I want to surrender everything but I am afraid to let go. Help me trust You. This is Your ministry Father, not mine. I need You to meet the African’s needs AND my children’s too. I know You love us. I choose to believe that You want what is best for me and the kids. I choose to be content. Now help me as I choose to continue to surrender each moment of each day. Thank you for children who carry Your wisdom! Amen.

Jessica and Melody

Giving widow a new blanket in Budimo

Pastor Julius's church

Homeless widow recieving a new house from GFR

Another entry?? Had to do it!

I have never done two entries in one day. It never seemed necessary. But something happened tonight that needs to be mentioned. We met with Justice Ogoola and Catherine Piwang of ChildReach Africa. They are the Local NGO in Budimo, Busia (East Uganda) that we are seeking to work with. They are a wonderful NGO reaching deep into the rural villages.

We visited that area earlier in June. And I was especially touched by a 19 year old named Humphrey who is an orphan taking care of 5 younger siblings. We were able to give him some shillings and we heard a great report that he purchased some pans (he had none!) and shirts and shoes for his brothers (none for himself). He also bought some food but still kept some money for later. Smart boy.

That is not the best news though… even though that was SO good to hear. We were sitting down for dinner and Justice told us that he attended the church that Pastor Julius preaches at. Pastor Julius is Humphrey’s pastor but he is also the pastor for the old woman that we are building a home for.

Pastor Julius stood up in church and was commending the church. Apparently last week they all got together as a body of believers and rehabilitated a home for another widow in their church. Pastor said, “Brothers and sisters, it is a testimony that people from 6000 miles away would come to our village and build a home for a homeless sister. Global Family Rescue is an example of what we should be doing as a church. We have many able bodied men here. Let us continue to help those around us as we have been encouraged to do.” Justice told us they are taking our example very seriously.

I began to cry. I don’t know exactly why. Maybe it was because we are messengers of hope. Maybe it is because we are a catalyst for change. Maybe it is because as Ben says, “Generosity is contagious.” But somewhere deep inside I think I felt God telling me that He is faithful to do so much with one step of faith. He WILL transform the world through our obedience to follow Him. I am again reminded to trust Him with all my heart. He is worthy to be trusted. I can rest in Him and so can Budimo.

I think tonight will be the first night I will sleep in peace…

Global Puppy Rescue!

How could you not love her??

The upcoming Humane Society President

Global Puppy Rescue

I was thinking about my kids today; thinking about what the long term affects would be on them experiencing extreme poverty, etc. There are times when I think we are doing all of them a great disservice. Nathan and Michael have often said to me, “I am bored.” or “I wish I was home.” And I can’t remember all the times that there have been tears because of missed friends, missed parties, etc. Then there is the comment, “I worked all school year for this summer… and I am here in Africa.”

As an adult, I look at this situation as “enriching” their lives. They are young and impressionable and this is the perfect time to expose them to the possibilities of a big world! But when I settle into the child inside me, I see it as a difficult hurdle for the time being. They are young and American… they want to watch cartoons and eat hot dogs. They are generally shielded from poverty and neediness at home… well…at least in the area we live in. My children are indelibly unique in their experiences and lifestyle compared to other children their age. They flip back and forth between places of extreme poverty and excessive spending and I know that they are sometimes confused as to where they fit. They want to “belong” in the states and they want to understand and fit in here as well. It is a tough balance. And as far as their complaints, what child wouldn’t want to stay in their nice cushy life instead of observing the death and poverty of the real world. It is hard for me to make that jump… but I feel a calling to come…

I will never forget one conversation Nathan and I had in the car at home. He said, “I don’t feel called to Africa.” I was a little taken back. What should I say? That is the truth for him. I took a deep breath and said, “Well, I am your mother and I am called so you have to come… I guess you will have to take that up with God. If He called me, He must be calling you too.”

Today as I was pondering all this… I watched the children do something interesting. They have been observing a litter of puppies that were born next door a few weeks ago. All of them fell in love with the littlest one. They named her “Baby”. She is a tiny thing with a streak of blonde running down the center of her back. She is ½ the size of the other 8 puppies… and the children were all worried about her getting enough milk, etc. So they took a little syringe and began feeding her some warmed up cow’s milk. They had so much enjoyment in caring for a creature they saw as undernourished. I began to see a little glimpse of our work in that… and felt encouraged.

As Mike, Hope and I were returning the puppy, we saw our little friend Joseph who is 10 years old. He lives in the slum area 50 feet from our compound. He was wearing an oversized blazer and looking a little less smiley than usual. Mike asked him how he was and Joseph said quietly, “I have malaria.” All three of us approached him and I lifted my hand to his forehead. He was very warm and feverish. Mike said, “Mom! Can we give him some medicine?” I smiled at his urgency. “Well, let’s see what we can do” I said. Mike and Hope ran back home and retrieved the medicine we needed. Joseph doesn’t have access to a doctor or a pharmacy. It is too expensive. All his aunt was giving him was some local medicine which cost $0.50 and has no ability to cure him.

When we got home, Michael said, “Mom, it is good to help people.” “Really? How come?” I asked sheepishly. “I like the way it makes me feel inside.” He replied. Maybe Mike has a future in missions because that is how I feel too. It fills up my heart when I help those in great need. It often is the way that people find their way back to God. And that is our greatest purpose!

What is on my hands?

June 23, 2007

Would you touch someone if they had a highly contagious disease? Would it make a difference if they were going to die? Would you risk your own family’s safety to comfort them?

I have spent the day with Nakalula… we thought her name was Nakature but her mind is going so no one knew it exactly. Ben and I brought a doctor with us this time. His name is Dr. John. He was the only doctor at his clinic which is a ½ mile away, but he came anyway. As our car stopped outside Nakalula’s house, Dr. John hopped out of the car with his stethoscope with his lab partner Simon tagging along. When Dr. John entered the house he turned to me and said, “I didn’t know poverty like this existed here.”

Nakalula is all boneThat is an interesting comment coming from an educated Ugandan. He was definitely expecting a more adequate environment. I came here without any expectations and so I had no idea how bad this situation truly was.

Simon brought two syringes to draw blood for testing. Nakalula took a little prodding to allow it. I held her hand as she sang a worship song during the blood draw. The doctor’s opinion is that Nakalula has advanced syphilis. It is incurable. He gave her about 8 months to live at the most if she had proper food and was immediately hydrated. She also has a severe bacterial infection and that is why her ear is eaten up. She is too weak to move, so we purchased her a bed and we are trying to bring the I.V. fluids and antibiotics to her (if they can find her vain).
Her daughter is in a grave position as well. Grace is only 17 (we thought she was 20). They tested her and she is HIV Positive. But beyond that, she has malaria, anemia, tuberculosis, severe malnutrition, dehydration, and severe diarrhea. We took her to the hospital and paid for her to be treated for malaria and dehydration. But we will have to take her to another large organization that can provide free care for TB and AIDS. Grace seemed very happy for our help… but she was most happy for the food we brought her (chicken and matake).

Now I say all that to preface this comment… I hate being told NOT to touch someone who is suffering. Apparently, this stage of syphilis is highly contagious. Also, Tuberculosis is becoming a disease that I am being exposed to regularly. I told Ben that I thought I would end up with something eventually. He became very upset and told me I needed to take precautions… the doctor told us to have no skin to skin contact with Nakalula or her family.

What? No skin contact? That is so appalling to me. People need touch. It is horrible to imagine seeing Nakalula and not reaching out to hold her hand. She is afraid and lonely. And now that I am thinking of it…what other germs do I have on my hands?? I have touched so many people and most of them have never been to a doctor let alone been diagnosed. I am watching my fingers flying across this keypad and wondering, what tiny microbes are on them? I have washed my hands twice but I still am wondering if I am clean. And what about that hangnail I have? Is that considered an open sore? I just felt a tingling feeling in my thumb… is that a disease? I have so many thoughts racing through my mind. I am sick just seeing these poor people… God protect me from anything more than that.

So the question still stands, would you touch someone with a highly contagious disease? I argued with Ben that I would absolutely...I want to be the hands of healing to everyone I meet. But then he told me to think again…for our family’s sake. I don’t know what to do.

Please help us care for this family. Email Ben.pahlow@globalfamilyrescue.org with any financial assistance you can offer. This family needs a padlock for their door, a window repaired, a cement floor, and most important a LATRINE (bathroom) Thank you!

Nakalula laying on her floor mattress as Doctor arrived.

Lab assistant Simon trying to find her vein.

Simon finds the vein!!!

Grace gets checked by Dr. John...

Nakalula on her new bed!!!

Melody telling 9 year old daughter how proud she is of her taking care of her mommy.

I need a donut!

I am sitting in my bedroom at 11:00 in the morning. The mosquito net is still hanging messily over the queen sized bed, the fan is still blowing and I can hear the guard outside sweeping the driveway. But all I can think about is Olive Garden alfredo sauce! I am drooling thinking about it. I always use the sauce to dip those hot garlic breadsticks into. ARGH! I am torturing myself.

We don’t have a working oven right now. It is driving me crazy. I have 6 brownie mixes that I brought and I can’t even cook them! I haven’t had chocolate for days. That is never good. Well, I did eat some chocolate chips but that doesn’t count! They are semi-sweet!

And I am thinking about Chipotle and the lime-crusted chips. And then there is the Krispy Kreme chocolate donuts with crème inside. I would love to have real mashed potatoes and corn. OH! I am going to miss the corn harvest in Illinois. There is nothing like boiled corn with butter and salt.

But as I am laying out my imagined feast, I hear a child crying somewhere nearby. The cry wafts up into my bedroom and I forget the delicacies of home temporarily. I wonder what food they dream about when they are hungry.

I will go downstairs and eat my morning toast and tea and try not to think about warm coffee cake and cinnamon rolls dripping with icing. It is so hard to live without the food I am used to. But like I have said before, I usually have choices. When I am in Uganda, I am lucky if I get to eat meat!

I couldn’t help myself… here is a picture of my favorite Krispy Kreme donut!

Little Blessings

I really don’t know how to explain with my words what I have seen with my eyes today. I did not know that a person could grow mold on their body. It doesn’t seem possible until you have seen it with your own eyes. But without a doubt, today in the suburbs of Kampala, I saw a woman who was my age but looked 80 years old, weighing about 60 pounds, dying of AIDS and growing gray mold on her head, arms and chest. Nakature has been lying on a filthy mattress for almost 4 years. Her bed lies at the bottom of a hill so all the mud and rain flows right onto her. That was hard to see, but then I met her 12 year old daughter who told me she lights a candle each night to see if her mom is still alive. Then we found out… none of them had eaten in 3 days.

I sat down next to Nakature and stroked her arm and head. I gagged when they pulled back the sheet. I wish I didn’t do that. I felt so awful but it was my own body’s reaction to rotting flesh. And poor Nakature’s ear was nearly eaten off by flies. My legs began to shake as the shock set in. I left the mud room to try to pull myself together but didn’t find the mental strength to return. But before I left, I told her that when we are both in heaven we will run together in the fields. She said in her quiet voice, “Amen”. But maybe I won’t recognize her!

What do you say to a woman who will die either tomorrow or next week? All I could think of was to tell her not to worry about her children, which of course is ridiculous to suggest. Of course she will worry… that is what I would do. Ben was much more practical. He made someone run to a restaurant for food and he is trying to buy her a bed that will lift her off the floor and get her a blanket so she can die warm and out of the mud. After I left the room, Ben told me that Nakature insisted on praying for him! Imagine that… she was blessed to have a visitor and wanted to lift him up.

But what about the children? How will they survive? What will happen to her body? How can her 12 year old daughter bury her? How will her 20 year old daughter Grace, who is dying of AIDS as well, be taken care of? It is too much to think about.

On a happier note, I was also able to meet with Cece, another HIV mother. I guess she stands out to me because she is on ARV’s (antiretroviral meds) and is relatively healthy. Cece is blind because her husband beat her so severely. She and I spent a good while talking about life and how she turned over her future to God. She is amazing. I laughed when she told me she wanted my photo. She couldn’t even see it but it would be a physical reminder of my visit. I held up her hands to my face and I told her, “Memorize me!” She put her calloused hands over my cheeks and touched my eyes. Her fingers then traveled up my forehead and she exclaimed, “You have beautiful hair!” It was the highlight of my day. My new friend Cece

And that is truly the wonder of this land… they are blind with grief and sorrow but they can find beauty and joy from the smallest things, even in a visit from a stranger.

If you want to purchase a bed and blanket for Nakature and Grace (Cost is $200) or if you would like to help purchase a home for Cece (Cost is $1500), please email Ben at ben.pahlow@globalfamilyrescue.org

If I didn't feel this way....

I have experienced so much discomfort today. After talking to Lee and Jaimie I realized that we are all experiencing some physical symptoms of physiological trauma. Jaimie was feeling weak. Lee was feeling sick to his stomach. And I have been having digestive problems. My intestines have been trembling as if panic has set in. I also feel like I swallowed a tennis ball. I have cried more than 10 times today for no good reason and I am still on the verge now. I didn’t feel strong enough to get out of bed. I have had no appetite but I forced myself to eat around 6:00 p.m. My whole body is screaming out what my mind can not vocalize.

I felt so much guilt today; Guilt for drinking clean water, having a husband, never burying a child, having food, sleeping with a blanket, having electricity, and even bathing with soap. Everything I do represents affluence. I have so much…

The pain I am physically suffering is somewhat related to how afraid I feel that I can’t do enough. I am so terrified that I won’t be able to bring help here in time. I am very afraid that an innocent child will die if I don’t get my act together. I feel like the burden of Uganda is sitting on my stomach and I don’t have the strength to lift it up. I am really scared of failing.

This reminds me so much of what I first went through in Rwanda. I wanted so much to help and felt so afraid. And so, I once again need to trust these people to God and do my best. I certainly know that we are needed here and that is exactly the purpose of this trip. I am beginning to realize if I didn’t feel this way, than GFR shouldn’t be here.

How can one make a difference?

I took the day off today. We have spent the last 5 days in villages. Two days in the west and three days in the east. For the trip to the west, we left the kids in Kampala. I am so glad that we did because what we were about to see was more than I could handle.

We spent one day in travel and the other two in the field visiting impoverished orphans, widows and disabled families. I have seen a lot of difficult situations but I was completely unprepared for the amount of death that plagues West Uganda. I can’t tell you how many times I felt bile rise in the back of my throat as flies gathered around the severely ill Ugandans. I was appalled at the amount of family members who have died because of malaria, tuberculosis, skin infections and especially AIDS.

Right now I feel numb. I look at the photos of Jordan, a little boy infested with worms and I don’t feel anything. And Faustin, the 60 year old man with Elephantitis who I couldn’t even stand near without gagging (the flesh was rotting and infected with flies and maggots). I feel that he is one of thousands. How can one person like me even make a difference?

I have seen more than I can process. We have done what we can and given some money for food and clinic visits… but I feel personally undone. I want to run away and hide my eyes from this horrible reality. Even my dreams are haunted by children clawing at me for help. They are dying and my heart and mind explode with frustration as if it is too little too late. God help me…

I feel that I have been walking through a graveyard these last few days and as I recall the response of those who received some immediate assistance, I realize it isn’t gratefulness that I saw in those deep brown eyes… it was relief. I could see the fear they have been holding inside exhaled out of their bodies as the hope of our gift was placed into their hands… even if it was only temporary. I want to see more smiles, more hope, more peace! It will take the program to do this… and it needs to start soon before another child is lost.

A hard day

June 15, 2007

I don’t know what to say. I am stunned. The AIDS epidemic is catastrophic and reaches it killer roots down into the heart of Africa choking it until all breath is gone. No one is exempt. No family is untouched. And the mounds of red dirt covering the dead keep growing while the children left on earth starve and stoically wait their turn for death. It is a place of tears for me, but there are few East Ugandan’s who fully expose that deep seated grief. They expect to die. They can’t hope for more. It is too dangerous to assume there is a future. It is a tragedy beyond words.

We traveled for two days to East Uganda and visited orphans and widows affected by AIDS. It was a journey I will always remember. I have seen AIDS affect adults…but the faces of the orphaned children have seem a bit unclear until now.

I begin our visits for the day walking up a gravel road, hands behind my back and thinking about how beautiful it is here. I turn up a small path and see a lovely homestead. There is a cleared area for the compound and I can’t help but notice the beautiful shade tree and well-kept hut. There is also a young boy in torn clothing crushing some white cassava roots into flour. A tall boy emerges from the grass roofed hut, approaches me and brings me a hand crafted folding chair. I expect a mother to exit the hut to greet us. But that doesn’t happen. This clear eyed thin boy stands under the tree looking at me as if I have something to say. His face is blank, there is no emotion. He emits some kind of unspoken authority and as I wait for the interpreter I start noticing other boys joining our silent conversation.

I am confused. I am thinking where are the parents? Who is in charge here? Within minutes, the interpreter who speaks the tribal language of the area comes along side me and formally introduces Humphrey. He is the head of this home. There are 5 boys aged 3 to 15 years. This young boy stands in front of his brothers like a protector, straight faced and strong. He exhibits no surprise at my outburst of tears as I am told that his father died in November and his mother followed in March. He watched them die. He dragged them from the very hut I stand in front of, dug two holes and covered them with the dirt. The pastor points out the funeral sticks behind me. A make-shift funeral home is built before the burial. The mound is still fresh for the mother. A wooden-stick cross stands over it.

The only time I ever notice a glimpse of emotion from Humphrey is when his youngest sibling (who is very obviously sick) is whimpering and I watch him reach over to him, taking his brothers small hand and pulling him close to him. Perhaps Humphrey watched his mother nurture his brothers this way.

Humphrey’s life touched me deeply. It was so difficult for me to leave him there. I felt like I wanted to hold him like the child he is and care for him myself. And yet, there are SO many others in his village just like him. This is where GFR needs to be. These children and widows are dying from hunger, malaria and illnesses that can be treated.

Humphrey will be one of the first on our list of available families for sponsorship. But in the meanwhile, we gave him some shillings so he can feed his family and also take his youngest brother to the clinic. It is the start of something new in is life. Perhaps for the first time, he will rest easy knowing that he is not alone.