One week from today I will be on a plane headed for Uganda. For the past five months I have been consumed with planning this trip. My sole goal has been to get to Africa and I’m realizing that with the preparations winding down to a finish, all that is left is the journey itself. And that, my friends, I have no ownership of. Which is exciting and terrifying and amazing all at the same time. 

I think I have begun a journey that holds more than I planned for, in which I am the recipient of God’s sweet and generous blessings. So much so, that my “agenda” or what I intended to give will be wiped from my lips in awe and in the kind of humility that comes from witnessing something greater than yourself. That said, I also think I have begun a journey that holds more than I planned for in the insurmountable stories of pain and hardship, in which I have no way to even BEGIN to empathize. 

Friday night as I listened to interviews with a couple of the Child Voice women and looked at previous art therapy drawings, I felt so heavy. I’m sorry you saw your family and friends burn alive in huts. I’m sorry you were forced to decapitate someone you loved. I’m sorry you had to eat grass and drink urine to survive. I’m sorry you weren’t loved or valued or appreciated. I’m sorry you were beaten. I’m sorry you were raped. I’m sorry you had to endure childbirth without any resources or support. I’m sorry you had to kill and abduct your own people. I’m sorry you don’t know how old you are. I’m sorry your military is corrupt. I’m sorry you have HIV.

I know the guns have been silent in northern Uganda for some time now, but the need is still great. I hope you have hope now. I hope you never felt like God abandoned you and that you can sense Him healing, restoring, and giving you peace. But if you question where God was and why He let this happen, I don’t have a formulated answer for you and to be perfectly honest, that is what scares me the most. Because I think God would maybe question where His people were and what they were or weren’t doing. But I’m just some white girl who is struggling to sort out her own thoughts. I just want to be your friend, listen to you, and help you sort it out if I can. All I can do is pray you don’t give up on Him, because I believe with all my heart that He’s your best shot at really living again.