Every now and then, there comes a day when I want to be anywhere but here. Maybe there's a conflict going on between different people- or myself. Maybe I'm frustrated with work. Maybe the power and the water are out on the same day. Or maybe I just want to be home.
But more often than not, on these days, something happens that reminds me why I'm here. It may be a conversation with Jesca or Carol. Maybe my friend Ayiko (aka "Old Baby") runs up and gives me a huge hug. Maybe a story group will have a record turnout. Maybe Prisca or Joann will tell a story from memory better than I ever could. Somehow, those little things just make all the chaos and frustration of life here worth it.
Last week, I was having one of those days. Things were just BAD. I set off for Crane, pessimistically thinking that we probably wouldn't have anyone even show up. As I walked down the path to the school, my "usual crowd" of preschoolers met me as I passed their homestead. Usually, 5 or 6 (or even more) will all come running, tackle me with hugs, and watch while 2 or 3 of them (my favorites—I'll admit it) walk on to the school with me. But on this day, they all decided to come along. Before I knew what was happening, I was walking (very slowly) down the narrow path with 7 preschoolers holding my fingers and walking in front of and behind me. One little boy had even left without his pants! We arrived (finally) at Crane, and they wouldn't leave.
I have no idea if these little babies know why I come to their village every week. I don't know why they come running to me like they do. And I can't communicate well enough in Lugbara to tell them stories about Jesus to explain. But I can pray for them, that God will put someone in their path to teach them His truth. And on those days, when I really don't want to be here, that's enough to keep the suitcases put away.
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