3:00 AM – New Bavaria, Ohio
10:00 AM – Uganda, Africa

The week has been confusing as my stomach tries to tell me what is good and what is bad.

Stomach: “starch is good. fresh fruit and vegetables are bad”
Me: “shoot”.

I’ve been naturally waking up early, as if I had been sleeping in for a long time, and when 7:00PM hits, I continue to fight the urge to pass out. A friendly dose of cipro has calmed my stomach a bit, and I was able to eat my favorite American food today, Buffalo Wild Wings Tonight, I’m back in my hometown, laying in the bedroom that I grew up in. A lot of memories lie here at home, and it’s a rare occasion that I’m able to be back here. To be honest, outside of my family and a select few people, the connection to my roots is minimal. I’ve often wondered if that was the Lord’s desires or simply something that happened as I got to college and embraced the campus life and leadership opportunities that came quickly. Regardless, it’s always nice to step back and remember where you came from, so you can appreciate where He is taking us. What a reminder, that He’s got this plan for my life. Tonight I spent several hours sharing stories, pictures, videos, and memories from the trip. I’ve now shared these stories with 5-6 different people/groups, which has made the processing of the entire experience absolutely wonderful. Some have mentioned how they can’t even believe that everything happened in one short trip. Stories of adorable children, life-changing moments, healing, visions, powerful prayer, and so many other things all wrapped into 12 days. While I love to share these experiences in person, I can say with certainty that the Lord’s voice was louder, clearer, and more active in my time in Uganda than any other moment in my life. The best way to say it, the veil that sometimes appears between us and the Lord is seemingly lifted in Uganda. The blessings were poured out in abundance, and I’m still feeling that flow of grace and love almost a week after. I’ve been able to recognize the loud moments in my life, which are filled with background music, text messages, to-do lists, and the desire to put in your days’ time. To take these moments, recognize them, and silence them is an incredible challenge. But it’s not like the Lord is not present here. (I pray a reminder every day, that the Lord is here, present, active, and working; above me, below me, to my left and to my right). He’s entirely present, but I think that sometimes we simply forget to invite Him to be near, to be within, and to be the director of our daily path.

Tonight, people began posting pictures and videos from the trip on Facebook. It’s the first time I am seeing most of them, and its AMAZING. I cried immediately when I saw the photos of Sefa, and Shamim. I sat on the floor of our living room with my sister and mother tonight to determine which photos I will be displaying at the gallery for the art show this weekend. For this show, I am going to focus less on the traditional visions of Africa, the culture, and the country and instead let the children tell their stories. I selected the photos of the children whom I felt connected to as I took their photo. In Africa, I felt that connection from behind the camera in a way I hadn’t ever felt before. A lot of my high school years were spent behind a video camera, in which connection with the subject can be found much easier through movement, words, sounds, and other expressions. But in photography you’ve got that 1/200th or so to capture and captivate. Yet when I see these pictures, I am brought back home to Uganda. I remember the smells, the sounds, and above all else, the children. I’m once again reminded of the homeless man I met as a kid that told me, “everyone has a story, they’re just waiting for someone to listen”. While these children are unable to speak their story to those at the art show, their smiles could talk for days. I really believe that as people come to the show, they will have the opportunity to connect with the kids of Uganda. They are future leaders, politicians, doctors, mothers, and of most importance; our brothers and sisters.

I want their stories to be told. To be seen. To be heard. To be known.