July 2008
Dear Friends
I stepped outside to get some fresh air. The room full of pastors and wives in Tororo, Uganda, was warm, stuffy and dark. They had traveled as far away as Kenya to attend the conference and receive the teachings from I Timothy and Marriage.
I sat on a hard handmade bench in the shade of a large mango tree next to the church, enjoying the cool breeze, grateful that it was blowing away from the nearby three-sided tin latrine. As I looked around I saw cows and goats grazing in the distance, next to well-cultivated fields of corn, yams and cassava. Several thatched huts were nearby.
In the churchyard some cooks were stirring huge pots of rice and beans for the lunch which would be served to all the people, thanks to the provision of EPI. They had colorful kangas tied around them, to protect their clothes from the ashes of the charcoal fires. A van drove up and delivered a huge stalk of bananas for matoke.
I saw one of the cooks come out of the hut with a big axe in her hand. She grabbed one of the scrawny chickens that was pecking at bugs in the yard, took it to a tree stump and chopped its head off. It was obviously going to be part of our lunch, but I decided it wouldn’t be part of my meal.
From a neighboring field a woman passed by me, walking from her garden plot to her house across the road. She was carrying a crudely-made, but very sharp hoe. A baby was strapped to her back and a small child clung to her skirt, frightened to see a “muzungu” (white person), looking at her. They were all dressed in rags.
When I looked up, she caught my eye, and a look of anguish, frustration and weariness crossed her face. She was quite young, and her face was lovely, but she carried the scars of a difficult and hard life.
I was overwhelmed again by the seemingly unfairness of life. “Why, O Lord, did you grant me a life of privilege and relative ease when this woman didn’t ask to be born into such poverty?”
Then I realized I was asking the wrong question. It’s not “Why?” but rather, “For what purpose?” “To whom much is given . . . .”
Thank you all for being aware of the special blessings of God and sharing with those who have so little.
Dear Friends
I stepped outside to get some fresh air. The room full of pastors and wives in Tororo, Uganda, was warm, stuffy and dark. They had traveled as far away as Kenya to attend the conference and receive the teachings from I Timothy and Marriage.
I sat on a hard handmade bench in the shade of a large mango tree next to the church, enjoying the cool breeze, grateful that it was blowing away from the nearby three-sided tin latrine. As I looked around I saw cows and goats grazing in the distance, next to well-cultivated fields of corn, yams and cassava. Several thatched huts were nearby.
In the churchyard some cooks were stirring huge pots of rice and beans for the lunch which would be served to all the people, thanks to the provision of EPI. They had colorful kangas tied around them, to protect their clothes from the ashes of the charcoal fires. A van drove up and delivered a huge stalk of bananas for matoke.
I saw one of the cooks come out of the hut with a big axe in her hand. She grabbed one of the scrawny chickens that was pecking at bugs in the yard, took it to a tree stump and chopped its head off. It was obviously going to be part of our lunch, but I decided it wouldn’t be part of my meal.
From a neighboring field a woman passed by me, walking from her garden plot to her house across the road. She was carrying a crudely-made, but very sharp hoe. A baby was strapped to her back and a small child clung to her skirt, frightened to see a “muzungu” (white person), looking at her. They were all dressed in rags.
When I looked up, she caught my eye, and a look of anguish, frustration and weariness crossed her face. She was quite young, and her face was lovely, but she carried the scars of a difficult and hard life.
I was overwhelmed again by the seemingly unfairness of life. “Why, O Lord, did you grant me a life of privilege and relative ease when this woman didn’t ask to be born into such poverty?”
Then I realized I was asking the wrong question. It’s not “Why?” but rather, “For what purpose?” “To whom much is given . . . .”
Thank you all for being aware of the special blessings of God and sharing with those who have so little.
1 comment:
Nice newsletters ;)
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