My Last Week

So this is my last week here in Uganda, I return to the States next Thursday. These past three weeks have flown by. How do I even begin to write about it all? I’m working on putting together a presentation to show at my hometown church but am having a hard time trying to pack it all into something I can show in under an hour. I think this will be something that will take the next year for me to slowly blog about bit, by bit. People tend to think that international missions is some brave, heroic, glorious thing. For those who think that, let me tell you. It’s not. It’s just doing real life, living out faith. I will say though that it is the most fulfilling thing I have ever done, it gives me a sense of security, compassion and contentment as I know I am living within the calling God has placed on my heart.

I sit here this evening pondering my life, thinking once again upon the deep, dark, desperate place that my Savior rescued me from. Thinking back through the years of my childhood… I never would have imagined in my wildest dreams that someday I would be serving my God in Uganda and it feeling so right. I have fallen so in love with Africa. As much as I am excited and thrilled to go back home and be in the arms of my loved ones there is a part of me that is torn to leave my beautiful Africa and the friends and family I have made here. It does me well to know that Lord willing I will return very soon. The children here have stolen my heart… wrapped me around their tiny little fingers. I’ve become used to waking up to their laughter and hearing “Auntie! Auntie!” yelled a million times a day. I have come to know each one of their voices and gotten to know their personalities. Like any other children they have made me frustrated, brought me insurmountable joy, sent me to my knees in prayer for them, and crying out to God when I didn’t understand His plan. To see how far they have come, to see their joy and their love for God after what they have been through in life warms my soul. To see these kids overcome all the obstacles in their lives and still smile at the end of the day encourages and challenges me.

The thing about missions, is there is no pattern. There is no just outlining it how it is, no box that it fits neatly into. It’s chasing giggly kids around the house one moment and crying out to God the next with a broken heart because you have to let one of the children go. It’s when the little ones become so near and dear to your heart they become as your own but you are powerless to promise protection. It’s the high of laughter and time spent with friends and the impact of seeing death right before your eyes. The little village children calling out “Mzungu!” and waving with smiles from their little houses and seeing the desperation and poverty of the slums. One day, one, moment, one millisecond to another learning that everything changes, but no matter how hard, no matter how tragic that God is still present, all mighty, powerful, unchanging and good. That He is the same God in the lows that He is in the highs. Every day seems to take trusting God to a new level. There are times when it has been easy to praise and worship Him and nights crying out through tears asking Him if He is still in this, telling Him I don’t think I can do it, spending hours into the night on my knees in His presence, learning once again to praise and worship Him even when it hurts so much I can barely breathe, thanking Him though my heart is shattered and stepping into the peace that only He can bring though circumstances seem crushing. Giving the little children into His hands and trusting Him for their protection when I don’t feel like giving it to Him.

So I know this really has no specific subject and is all just kind of a bunch of jumbled thoughts but that’s kind of what you get right now. Over the next year I will have time to sit and sort it out. Write individual stories. But right now it’s just how it is in my mind. All mixed up. And next time there will be new stories to tell both the joyous and the heartbroken. But in all of them God working. Until my very last breath I pray to God that I will live out His mission, whether I’m in Uganda or back in the States that my life, every moment will be one glorifying the Father and spreading His name to all I come in contact with. Until every man, woman and child has heard His name! May all the glory be His forever and ever!

~Because they haven’t heard, Kriss Elise Beckman

My sweet, goofy, little Ivan