we'll stand grateful

It was nearly a week ago that I feed her rice and beans, watching children play and the sky grow dark. and i told her I have 10 days left until I go to America. and I watched as the girl who usually wants to beat me and laughs when I get hurt looks up at me and opens and closes her mouth to give me kisses. The depth of the bitterness of the goodbye that's to take place in what is now 6 days is not lost on me tonight, not in the slightest. 

Laying in my friend's hammock strung between two trees in our backyard, pink sunset clouds and green leaves go blurry and wet. tears fall as i give my sorrow to the One who already know every bit of it. And He whispers that He knows what He's doing, that my hurt isn't more than He can handle, that His grace is sufficient for everything, that His plans were not only for my own good or for the good of you all -my sweet supporters.. but that His plans were especially good for the children I've loved on for the past 6 months and so I have no reason to worry. 

It's hard to put into words what these last few days in Uganda are like. Each moment i have left here is tainted with a bit of sadness.. This is the last time you'll spend 4 hours in the immigration office renewing your visa. You have no Tuesday nights left in Africa. You can't make those plans, you won't be here long enough to see them through. But each moment also holds an excitement beyond words. You'll see that person in two weekends. You'll walk up those steps and through that door in 7 days. You'll actually be around for that event when it happens. Deep bitterness and extreme joy co-exist in the same moment. And though I'm living and experiencing it, I find it hard to believe it's even possible.

Being 7 days away from America is, to be completely honest, terrifying. Not so much fear of the busyness or changes or the culture shock of grocery stores and shopping malls (seriously, I've had actual dreams about walking into Target). But I'm scared… of the heartbreak days and missing my kiddos days. I'm scared of becoming sad and embittered at the life and people around me while I'm missing my Ekisa kiddos. I don't want to take you all -and the unique way you each are a part of my life- for granted. 

6 months in Uganda has taught me many things. One of those things being how thankful I am for you. i have watched your love bridge the gap.. the distance between chicago and uganda that i thought was so large and vast made small by your letters and emails of sweet words and encouragement and prayers. you have loved and encouraged and and carried and supported me throughout the past 6 months (and even before that). It leaves me so humbled, and so thankful. You have blessed my life more than you'll ever know, and more than I'll ever be able to express.

I've been at a bit of loss, as to what to write on this blog. I told it to a friend this afternoon, that I didn't know how to write a blog without it sounding sad, and self-pitying, and depressing. I am heartbroken at the idea of goodbye. But I don't want you to think that's all I am. Because I'm also oh-so excited to say hello to you all. So please know that, while this is a sad post, I really am quite excited at the thought of being in Chicago again and seeing all your lovely faces so soon! 

It's in the quiet of the late nights and the early mornings, when sleep won't come, that He speaks. These 6 months in Uganda have been some of the most beautiful months. And I can do one of two things… I can either get lost in the sadness of this goodbye that's come all-too-quickly, missing the opportunity to see Him at work in other incredible ways. Or instead, I can choose to be thankful for this season of life and lift high the name of the great God I serve, full of hope and expectation for the ways He's going to move next. 

"We will dance, 'cause You restore the wasted years and You will sing over all our coming fears. 

And we'll stand grateful for all that has been left behind and all that goes before us. You are to be praised."