It’s been several weeks since I have posted because quite frankly I didn’t know where to begin. We have been faced with some heavy situations during our month 1 in Uganda and I am slowly but surely digesting all we have experienced.
I would love to introduce you to a snapshot of our experience at a Refugee camp in Northern Uganda. We spent 8 days traveling all around the North West border pioneering for future World Race partnerships. At the same time my home country just so happened to make a very big decision about refugees. I didn’t have internet for several weeks, so when I came back to the land of wifi, I was shocked to see my country in uproar over the refugee crisis. The timing was no accident or coincidence. A seemingly far off controversy became near and dear to my heart through this experience. My prayer is that as you read the following with grace and open-mind.
For me, it was difficult to comprehend what a refugee meant, until I saw their faces and heard their names. At the border of South Sudan I looked into the eyes of refugee orphans and spent time hearing their stories. Refugee isn’t just a number to label thousands, it’s a life. An unwanted, unexpected label smacked onto a people group fighting for life. Now over one million refugees have fled from the violence in South Sudan alone. Sadly, this doesn’t get much media coverage these days. But I witnessed firsthand as thousands walked across the Ugandan border, carrying only what their bare hands could handle.
The refugee camp was blistering hot and dusty. Burt orange dirt roads go as far as the eye can see. White plastic tarp tents speckle throughout the vast land. It is the hope of it being temporal that keeps them going, but the flimsy unsustainable solutions have them stuck. The children play with each other, but no toys. Everything is minimal and barely functional. In the refugee camp there is a small cluster of tents sectioned off from the rest. There we worked with orphaned children that houses 150 boys and girls from ages 2-18.
I made several sweet friends like Margaret. She is seven years young. She melts my heart with her big gummy smile, has a sassy twin sister, and she loves to lead worship with her boisterous singing. She also is a refugee.
Her twin sister Estella is just as beautiful and vivacious. She has an umbilical hernia, an abnormal bulge at her belly button. It is so large that she has to wear dresses backwards and unzipped so that it could have enough room to poke out. I watched as the boys made fun of her, so she shyly ran away to change clothes. She came skipping back with a new outfit, gripping the left side of her skirt.
You see, Estella’s clothes were filthy and had multiple holes and tears. Her skirt was ripped almost all the way down, so she had to grasp the waist band in order to keep it from falling off. I noticed she sat by herself, not able to play games with the others because she had to hold her skirt up. I asked a leader what we could do to help, and he brought me a needle and thread. I called Estella over to mend her tattered skirt. (For the record, I have noooo sewing skills, so praise the Lord carried me through the simple mending process.)
Once I finished, she was giddy to have a “new” skirt and hands free to play. I asked her to bring me the rest of her wardrobe to mend. Bringing me all she had- one broken dress and another spattered skirt; I simply mended these few precious items and began to tear up. I prayed over her torn clothes, her budging tummy, her life as an orphaned refugee.
(Photo cred to my awesome teammate Taryn Kilpatrick)
Estella is strong and courageous. There’s so much hope for her future. She has so little to call her own, yet was so grateful and joyful. Back home, I owned an entire closet full of clothes. This child owned a handful of tattered items. How is this even fair?
That day I learned that love means noticing the little things, like mending clothes. After dinner, Estella and Margaret led the choir and they confidently belted praise. Sweet little Estella raised her hands high in the air to worship… and her skirt didn’t fall down! What I thought was an insignificant act became a way to empower a child to worship unhindered.
Oh father, give us eyes to see the small ways to love. Teach us to love the least of these, wherever we are in the world. Show us what to do even now in the refugee crisis. I feel overwhelmed by the weight of the world’s brokenness. I feel helpless. But all I can do is mend a ripped skirt and pray.
I do not expect my government, my leaders, my church, my family, nor my friends to determine an entire solution on this subject. I am accountable to the ultimate judge: God. I pray the Holy Spirit will convict each person on what our responsibility is as individuals. Let us come before the throne of God willing to open our hands to preconceived notions, political correctness, the need to be right, then feelings of entitlement. And let’s ask the Prince of Peace, the Ultimate Healer what we need to do as individuals to process this issue. This is not the first nor last time we are faced with refugee crisis. And so we pray. Listen to God. Do what he says.
No matter where you stand with the current issue, we can sympathize with humanity. There is no magical solution, but we do have the powerful tool that is proactive: Prayer. Lift them up as individuals. As Margaret and Estella. As family units. As a country. As fellow humans. As beloved children of God.
Matthew 25:31-46
“When he finally arrives, blazing in beauty and all his angels with him, the Son of Man will take his place on his glorious throne. Then all the nations will be arranged before him and he will sort the people out, much as a shepherd sorts out sheep and goats, putting sheep to his right and goats to his left.
“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Enter, you who are blessed by my Father! Take what’s coming to you in this kingdom. It’s been ready for you since the world’s foundation. And here’s why:
I was hungry and you fed me,
I was thirsty and you gave me a drink,
I was homeless and you gave me a room,
I was shivering and you gave me clothes,
I was sick and you stopped to visit,
I was in prison and you came to me.’
“Then those ‘sheep’ are going to say, ‘Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and give you a drink? And when did we ever see you sick or in prison and come to you?’ Then the King will say, ‘I’m telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me.’
“Then he will turn to the ‘goats,’ the ones on his left, and say, ‘Get out, worthless goats! You’re good for nothing but the fires of hell. And why? Because—
I was hungry and you gave me no meal,
I was thirsty and you gave me no drink,
I was homeless and you gave me no bed,
I was shivering and you gave me no clothes,
Sick and in prison, and you never visited.’
“Then those ‘goats’ are going to say, ‘Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry or thirsty or homeless or shivering or sick or in prison and didn’t help?’
“He will answer them, ‘I’m telling the solemn truth: Whenever you failed to do one of these things to someone who was being overlooked or ignored, that was me—you failed to do it to me.’
“Then those ‘goats’ will be herded to their eternal doom, but the ‘sheep’ to their eternal reward.”
