5/23/09 JINJA, UGANDA Budumbuli Village

First Instincts
The Mundane
Letting Us Help
Muslim to Adventist
Our Simple Gifts = treasured possessions
Food Preparation
Beautiful Feet
A Window Space between my hands and theirs
“Thank You”
Good-byes
The Contrast
Lukia – the Inside more valuable than outside (home and otherwise...)

I have many special thoughts related to all of the above lines. Little things I wish I could record – every inkling expound. But as I look at the time, after spending a significant amount of time recounting very special days with the team, I know I can’t talk about them all. But I feel like I have to detail at least one thought for the night...somewhat encompassing...
The coaster (bus type vehicle) had left and I was waiting with the remaining members of our team in Kate’s monstrous car. I had a surprisingly hard time saying goodbye. Like the orphanage, these kids were so very special and they had stolen my heart. We were supposed to be leaving although part of me wanted desperately to climb out of the all terrain and let kids hang on me one last time. Instead, they were hanging on the car. Climbing all over. Shouting and waving. They were not eager to have us go either and their attention proved it. I waved outside from my window...tired and torn with this whole idea of goodbye. I watched a dozen kids wave back instantly. In that moment I was confident if I was any bit of a crier – I would have. What do I do to say goodbye to a billion children who took hold of my heart strings in barely two days? I stopped waving and pressed my hand against the window. To which three hands instantly met it from the other side of the pane. I moved my fingers and one girl moved hers with it. Our hands were touching – palm to palm. The only thing separating us and my ability to reach her was the window. I couldn’t help but think it was just that. I wanted so much to be in their world...and I was so close. But something still separates. My world from their world, my culture from their culture, my life from their life. I didn’t get out of the car and jump into the mob and will the children towards me. I say inside my box and watch to the outside with the glass in-between and my hand still against the window. I wanted to be submerged but from the safety of where I was. Am I willing to drop, to break the “window” while I am in Uganda or will I survive the trip with me touching the world from the other side? Is this okay? And if it’s not, what do I do about it?