from the first day i set foot in uganda, i knew it was a special place. that red soil soaked into my heart just like it did into the once-white soles of my running shoes. but i had no idea that sixteen years down the road i'd be packing my suitcase again. for the fifth time. to revisit the pearl of africa. to reconnect with my ugandan loved ones. to hug the precious young adults who have left the cement halls of their learning years to impress their own unique prints into that beautiful ugandan earth. to meet little faces matching new names on the lists i pore over and pray over.
it's time to go again.
there is no measure to the value of a life. no way to calculate what one person might flood over this planet that breathes life into them. it's impossible to know what we might miss if we overlook and underserve the least of these. my Jesus thought every single one worthy of His life. i'm pretty sure He wants us to offer what we can of ours too.
in seven days our plane will take off. ten days later, it will bring us back. but they... our kirabo kids... they stay. to use what you give them, what we give them, to create a better life. a brighter life. a beautiful life. and, just maybe, to pass that better, brighter beauty on.
the gift, the kirabo, is hope. woven securely in the fabric of education. and the givers? US.