When Sonja is happy she sings.

When Sonja is happy she sings.  She sings really softly to herself.  It is high and short. Quick notes. Cute notes. She moves her head side to side when she sings.  When I notice, I look at her and she smiles.  She sings a couple bars cute and loud for me.  Then she laughs at herself.  It is always an unpredictable song. Last time it was Ancient of Days.

The very first time we met Patrick he was wearing a dirty red double XL T-shirt. We took a taxi to Bulenga and got off. We had no idea where we were.  Sonja and I looked back and forth at each other. We waited for the other to have an idea-a confidence. 

Patrick was supposed to meet us. 

We stood together looking for Patrick, for the director of an orphanage.

Finally, this short young man bounced up to us in an oversized red t-shirt.  He took our hands and shook them.  We followed him up the hill towards an orphanage.

 

I had consented to visit Patrick and the orphanage, but I told Sonja that we shouldn’t commit to the orphanage.  We had two free weeks in Uganda and there were lots of options.

Patrick led us through the orphanage gate.  He began to tell us about the house but was cut off by the kids that had gathered around us.

The kids were dirty.  They had snot on their cheeks.  Their clothes were torn and brown from too much dirt.  Their smiles were huge, almost as big as their brown eyes.

They held our hands as Patrick showed us around the orphanage.  We saw the ‘classrooms’ and the ‘bedrooms’. We saw the bunks where the kids slept three or four to a mattress.  Kids held our hands and rubbed their hands across my arm hair. 

 

We were there for 20 minutes tops.  As we left the orphanage Patrick asked us what we thought. Would we come and stay with them for some time?

I wasn’t sure. It was overwhelming. So I decided to be silent. I kept my mouth shut.

“Patrick, we’d love to come back and spend a couple weeks at the orphanage,” Sonja said. She was smiling.  It was the sort of smile that is full of care and certainty. She was sold on coming back.

“Fantabulous,” Patrick shouted.  He clapped his hands.

 

After Patrick sent us on our way, I looked at Sonja, “I thought we were just checking it out!”

She looked at me, “I know, but don’t you think it will be so great? Sorry, we can tell Patrick no if you think we should do something else.”

I looked at her and laughed. Then I sighed, “I’m sure it will be good.”

We started walking back to the taxi park and Sonja began to hum something to herself.

 

Since then, a lot of good has happened. I kept my mouth shut and all sorts of awesome things happened. Today, we are trying to raise $50,000 to buy the orphanage a second house. The orphanage needs, absolutely needs, more space. We want to give Patrick and the orphanage the chance to expand.  If you’re interested in sponsoring a child or giving towards the expansion of the orphanage check out www.beautifulresponse.org.  Check it out anyways.

Testimony

     The red carpet is so soft that I take my shoes off every time I go into the sanctuary.  I want to feel the sponge of the carpet on my feet.  There is a cross made from beautiful drift wood hanging at the front of the altar.  I am here to pray. I am here because when I came home from Uganda I decided that I wanted to pray more.

     If the driftwood cross and the soft carpet don't work I will go into my room with the green walls and the couches.  My guitar is in that room. I'll play my guitar.  I'll play the songs that always get me.

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     We are sitting inside a cramped room with blue walls.  My legs are crossed and Angela Kirabo is on my right, lying against my legs. Medi is clinging to my left arm.

     We have finished singing and praying.  William stands in the middle of the room waiting for everyone to be seated.  50 kids find places to sit.  There is not much floor left.  William tells us that tonight will be a night for testimonies. 

     Who has a testimony to give?  Come stand and speak.

     Angela sits up.  She stands and walks to the center of the room where a few others have started to line up. 

     Becca is the first person in line. She is 11, maybe 12.  She is wearing a bright red shirt.  It is too big for her and it hangs off of her shoulder. 

     She is clasping her hands together and hiding her face. When everyone has quieted down Becca steps forward.  She puts her hands in front of her and testifies,

     Praise God.
     Praise Him.

     I Thank God for his protection and that he has brought us visitors.

     She moves her hands quickly over her face again and makes a squeaking noise.  She jumps back to her seat on the floor.

     Everyone claps for Becca and her testimony.


     I put my legs out in front of me and lean back onto my hands. Angela is next. She is 6.  She stands with her hands behind her and her head held high.

     She steps forward and begins her testimony in Luganda.
     She is cut off and instructed to speak English.

     Praise God.
     Praise Him.

     I praise God because Aunt Sonja and Uncle Caleb have visited us.

     She comes back and sits against my outstretched legs.

     Janet steps forward.  She is 13, maybe 14.  She stands confident and speaks clear English.

     Praise God Members.
     Praise Him.

     I Thanks God because, for me, I am alive.  There are some who are not alive today.  Some have died from diseases and accidents, but for me, I am alive. 


     Everyone claps for Janet and her testimony.  William shouts Hallelujah, Hallelujah and claps his hands together.

     Janet sits back down in her spot.  William takes off with the rest of the evening's service.

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     I am sitting with my guitar in the room with the couches.  I am staring into the floor.  My guitar sits on my lap soundless.

     Who has a testimony to give? Come stand and speak.

     I want to stand and testify. I want to come forward. I want to stand like Becca with her shirt too big for her body.