Fiction For Now

I wrote this a while ago.  It is not a true story, not yet at least.  The child in the story, Timothy, is 16 now.  The facts about him are true; we just don’t know what his future holds.  I want to say this is prophetic, but I don’t know what that means, so I’ll just say that it is fiction.  Fiction for now.
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Timothy beams.  His eyes and his mouth smile. He has huge white perfect teeth.  He walks up to me and I hug him and he says, “I am going to university.” 

I feel Timothy against me.  I can feel his strong arms on my back.  Timothy is strong and he is a big man in Uganda. Tall and Strong.  He never raises his voice and speaks always at the same volume.  Always slowly, always cautiously.  But now he hugs me, and shows his emotion. 

We are back here in Uganda once again.  Another year, and we are back again.  The kids are older and smarter, and we are too.  Many things have changed.  The kids have more space, and there are less holes in the green mosquito nets.  I don’t grab Zula’s hands to spin her around.  She doesn’t stand in front of me saying damu! damu! again! again! Now she walks and she is tall with her books and her studying.  She is in fourth grade now and can read and write and do math.  She wants to be a nurse. 

But there are new little ones who grab my hands, and the older kids still bathe them and help them wash their clothes.  Each night when it is just barely too dark to read and play they get the drums out to dance and sing.  Each night the little ones watch while the older ones close their eyes and pray, and Honey, he still rocks the baby to sleep.

Timothy steps back from our hug and he hugs Sonja.  He finished high school at the very top of his class.  He is very bright.  He did well enough to advance on to university where he will study for a degree in English.  Timothy wants to be a journalist.  He has wanted to be a journalist since he was 14.  He is 19 now, and being a journalist may be possible.  When he was 14, it was impossible.  It should have been impossible. 

Timothy's mom was a prostitute.  Prostitution devoured her, and she got pregnant.  A man, paying for her body, got her pregnant and Timothy was born.  Eventually, his mom couldn’t provide for Timothy, so he was put out on the street.  She loved him, but she couldn’t care for him.

He was 14 when he got malaria.  When you treat malaria, you live.  When you don’t treat malaria, you die.  Timothy was dying.
His body was failing. 
He was fourteen, and he was lying on the street, watching people walk by.
Dying. 
It began to rain, and weak Timothy sat in the water as it gathered around him.  And many people walked past Timothy, and they moved to the other side of the sidewalk. 

But Patrick was walking on that day, and he saw Timothy lying on the sidewalk.  He remembered himself being on the street, and so he picked up Timothy. He treated Timothy's malaria, and Timothy lived.

We met Timothy and knew that he had to go to school.  So we told people about him and they agreed that he must go to school.  So Timothy went to school, and he was smart and he did well.
And he wanted to ba journalist.

Timothy steps back from his hug with Sonja, and I am choking back tears. I am thankful for Timothy’s mom-that she was courageous and gave him life.  And I am thankful for Patrick-that when everyone else passed him by, Patrick didn’t.  I am thankful for the people in the U.S. who, oceans away, decided to love and invest in Timothy.  I am thankful for Timothy, who worked hard though his path that was not easy. 

Timothy should not have had a shot at university.

Timothy should not have a shot at university.

But Timothy, Patrick, his sponsors, us-we aren’t a people who listen too closely to the should not and the can not and the won’t.

My Stewardship Will Be Uganda

No one has insisted on being aware of happenings at the orphanage like Stan. No one has peppered us with more How are things going and Is there anything I can do.  We talk on the phone every week, and he often tells me a story about a professor or a girl or a someone whom he has told about Beautiful Response.  


I asked Stan to put his passion and concern into words.  This is what he said:


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Cursed be the ground for our sake. Both thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for us. For out of the ground we were taken, for dust we are... and to the dust we shall return 

- a paraphrase of Genesis 3:17-19

Pride.

I am a law student. As I’ve experienced, law school appeals to all known stereotypes - aggressive lectures, competitive classmates, and an endless amount of studying and research.  My schedule is cyclical: prepare for class, go to class, study, work, prepare for class, go to class etc. Various meetings and appointments fill any additional free time.  I often miss meals, family phone calls, and messages from friends.  I don’t regret it.  Actually, I enjoy it.  I do all the things I want to do. But, therein rests a problem.  The desire and temptation to appease self-fish habits and focus solely upon myself, my career, or my plans. 

For me, life has become all about the resume; a current record of my accomplishments and achievements; formatted clearly and precisely to show that I am worth hiring, that I stand out in a crowd, and that investing in me should be given due consideration.

But before I fall asleep each night my mind drifts to simple thoughts; It drifts to thoughts beyond the commitments of my day.  It hums silently on my pillowcase.  I think.

I have a friend who does good things; who has faith in something bigger; with whom I discuss the many works of our loving God each week and smile.  His wife is no less ambitious. Together they serve.

They are one of many.  Many who, in secret and without notoriety, see God’s will become reality.  These people, these sponsors, they choose to prioritize.  They choose to have faith. They choose to sacrifice because He has already sacrificed.  The race has been won.

Each sponsor has the same commitments as I, if not more.  They are tested by the same societal pressures as I. They teach me faith is powerful.  Faith is sustaining. 

The stewardship is in Uganda.  The stewardship is a group of children at an orphanage.  Their stewardship, by God’s grace, sees them fed and educated.  And God is faithful.

God is faithful. He is faithful to those who walk in the light, who hear the call, and who live to serve.

I know I am still being equipped.  I know I must stay persistent in my studies.  But I also know I will help.  I will see myself involved.  I will see myself vulnerable.   I will see this work through. 

Because some work is not meant for resumes.  Some deeds are not meant to be discussed.  Sometimes we must simply have faith and do.  God has seen me fed, can I not serve my neighbor? Am I too busy to help?  Am I blind to His call? Does His work not interest me? You?

I cannot silence His voice.  I cannot ignore His purpose.  I cannot standby.

I will see myself involved. I will see myself vulnerable. My stewardship will be Uganda.  My stewardship will be those children.  By God’s grace, I will see them fed and educated.

And God will be faithful.