Christmas Letter

In September I made a trip to Uganda to visit the kids. It has been three and a half years since Caleb and I first met Patrick, William, and the 42 kids who were living at Raising Up Hope.

Three and a half years later there are 60 kids living at the orphanage at Raising Up Hope. They have been in school for three years in a row, a consistency that many of them have never had before. Some have moved on to middle school and others have been accepted into high school. They all speak English more confidently. The kids are taller, healthier, and bigger than when we met them three and a half years ago. The babies are no longer babies and the older kids have become teenagers. It is a joy to know each of the kids and to see them grow and develop as individuals.

On this trip three and a half years later I am in Bulenga, Uganda for the dedication of the girls orphanage home. The Jireh House--named from the Hebrew word "to provide"-- is a wonderful four-bedroom house that has been beautifully furnished. With thankfulness to God and the many of you who gave generously, it has been a privilege to see Raising Up Hope grow to two orphanage homes.

On this trip I am reminded, once again, of the incredible work being done by Patrick, William, Faith, Allen, Hope, and Joyce-- all part of the RUHU staff. I am encouraged by the schools providing an excellent education, and I am grateful for the part you play in supporting each of the kids and loving them from afar. I am reminded that beautiful things are happening at RUHU and I feel so blessed to be apart of it.

We wish you a joyous and blessed Christmas season.

Sonja and Caleb

PS. Please do remember Beautiful Response when considering your end of the year giving. We look forward to an exciting new year! www.beautifulresponse.org

Loaves and Chili

Patrick told me that the kids in Primary 7 took their exams and he is confident that all of them will get to go on to high school.

But this is going to get very expensive Patrick said.

Yes, so many kids in high school. It is going to get expensive, I said.

Patrick replied, God is a good big God. He has always provided.

I watched him provide on a November Tuesday in Waupun, Wisconsin.

Laura is my cousin and a board member of Beautiful Response. On Sunday morning, she overcame her phobia of public speaking with the help of her daughter. And together they pitched a chili supper on Tuesday night to raise money so that kids in Uganda could keep going to school.

That night, churches from the area came together around the topic of mission and I got to share the story of Raising Up Hope in Uganda. At the end of the night I shook people’s hands and said, see you Tuesday!

At 2:30 Tuesday morning, my uncle Henry woke up and began baking bread. He made 54 loaves.

I got to the church to help make chili at 9:30 Tuesday morning, only 7 hours after Henry had started working. By the time I got there, there were 9 crock pots the size of small cars on the kitchen counters already steaming with what would soon be Dorinne’s secret chili recipe. Dorinne spent 12 hours making and serving chili that day.

My aunt Diane and uncle Dave came out to Waupun to help. My aunt Joanie took her last day of vacation and hauled the 54 loaves of bread out to Waupun. My cousin’s husband’s mother helped out most of the day. People I can’t remember filtered in and out of the kitchen all day long.

The boy’s soccer team from my high school across the parking lot pushed carts of chili, crackers and dishes around.

            There were 9 huge tubs of chili, 54 loaves of bread, 1600 ounces of coffee, and gallons of ice cream with homemade toppings. All of it was given and prepared by people free of charge and expectation. All of it was given because the people of Waupun really do want to see those kids across an ocean keep going to school.

            It started to rain right when the supper was supposed to begin. And I thought that maybe the numbers would be low. But the rain didn’t stop anyone.

            Hundreds of people showed up, and we exceeded our expectations.

            And at the end of the chili supper we had two loaves of bread, one gallon of chili, some homemade chocolate-fudge sauce, and enough money raised for me to call Patrick and tell him that God had indeed provided.

Mr. William Bukenya

Mr. William Bukenya, our friend, is getting married. He will be marrying a beautiful woman and will be starting a new life.  I can't overstate his importance to Raising Up Hope in Uganda, and I can't overstate the encouragement he has been to me personally.  

William presided over Sonja and my Ugandan wedding

Marriage in Uganda is tricky. For the groom, there are expectations from the bride's family, from the bride's friends, from the groom's family, and from the groom's friends.  Everyone sits down to watch what the groom can provide.  Because the expectations are so unrealistic, men in Uganda go to their friends.  For months before the wedding they go to their friends and church and workplace and everyone chips in so that the groom can look good.  Everyone chips in to make their friend look good. 

William has been serving the kids at the orphanage for years, and now he is getting married.  And Sonja and I want to help him.  It is not charity, it is not tax-deductible-it is just our friend William getting married, and we want him to look good.

Charlie wrote this about William:

When William found out that I had been the Best Man at Caleb and Sonja's wedding, he clapped and said, "Yah yah yah." William's friend was getting married, and William was to be the Best Man.

So one of my days in Uganda last year, I rode with WIlliam out to the Introduction. We made a bunch of incredible passes on the narrow roads, zipping by slow cars, nearly knocking mirrors. One role, I guess, of the Best Man, is to pick up all the other "not-as-best-but-still-pretty-good-men." Our car filled up with Ugandan men, dressed in the traditional robe-like Kanzoo with a suit coat overtop. I was wearing the same. When we got stuck in traffic, I baked in the sun. William said to me, 

"Ah. You are so sweaty."

The Introduction was out at the bride's family home in the countryside. In front of the house, there were lots of chairs and a few tents forming a square where the Introduction would take place. The bride's family would sit on one side and the groom's on the other. And then I would be that one lone white guy sitting on the groom's side.

We pulled up, as part of one long caravan of the groom's family. We parked in a field off to the side. The whole family piled out of the cars. The women were wearing magnificent dresses. The men looked like they had spent one minute getting dressed. Everyone began unloading gifts from the bed of a large truck.

I wish I could remember everything that came off that truck. I do remember some caged roosters. A cow's leg, I think. A huge bag of sugar. The point of the gifts is to shower the bride's family. Forming one long line, the groom's family and I carried gifts in, setting them in one big pile in front of the bride's family.

Then we went back for seconds. It is an offering, really, and it is just really expensive to put that much at the bride's feet.

There is nothing like an Introduction here in the States. It is theater. It is at once incredibly old and serious and then also relaxed and for the enjoyment of all. 

The ceremony was long, very long, but extremely entertaining. At one point, the MC of sorts--a young man no older than 20--came out dressed as an old man with cane and grey-paint moustache. He chastised a few people. I have no idea why. And everyone laughed. 

On the phone on the way home from the Introduction, William handed me his cell. "Meet my girlfriend," he said. Then he made another incredible pass on the road. I spoke with her briefly and said goodbye. "Will you get married to her?" I asked William.

"Oh yes. I would like to," he said.

That was a year ago.

Now, I hear, the time has come. What I know about William is that his sacrifice, his offering to others, is immense. If we could somehow package those things--William's time and money and sweat and energy--and lay them as gifts at his bride's feet, it'd be far more than enough. It would pile high, because daily, William gives everything he has. 

But that is not how Introductions work.

So I think that because William gives everything he has, we can help him give some things that he doesn't have. William has certainly gained the treasures in heaven, sure where moth and rust don't destroy, but right now,

honestly,

our best man needs just a bit more here on earth.

Pretty Incredible

It would be pretty incredible if Carlos got to study in Turkey.

It would be incredible wouldn't it?

In the excel sheet where William breaks down the school expenses there is a column for school trips.  This particular excel sheet was breaking down the Secondary School fees for the 8 kids that are in the middle of their first year of high school.

The column was in Ugandan Shillings:
School Trips
80,000 (roughly $32)
80,000
80,000
80,000
80,000
80,000
80,000
5,000,000.00

Shillings often have a lot of zeros, but we thought William had made a typo with-5,000,000. Maybe the zero key had stuck.

It hadn't.

Carlos' school takes a study trip this summer to Istanbul, Turkey.

Istanbul, Turkey.

To study.

Carlos.

Carlos traveling around the world to study. Who could have seen that coming?

Five million Ugandan Shillings is $2,000.  And $2,000 is a lot of money. So when I got done laughing at the preposterousness of Carlos getting the opportunity to study in Turkey I started to think about where that money might come from.  His sponsors? Us?

For a couple of weeks now, Sonja and I have talked about it and we have no answers and no money. I am afraid that our lack of ideas will mean that Carlos will stay back at school while his friends go to Turkey.  And that is fine.  He doesn't have to go.  He is still in a great school.  He's still doing well.

But, wouldn't it be incredible?

Wouldn't it be incredible if Carlos go to study in Turkey?


I got an email from a sponsor recently who has pictures of the child she sponsors stuck to her refrigerator. Her niece was visiting, and she saw the pictures of another little girl stuck on her aunt's fridge.

She decided that she wanted to help this little girl on the fridge.

When she got back home, she started having lemonade stands so that she could send some money to her. She sets up shop on the corner, mixes the lemonade, and sells it to passers-by so she can help out her friend on her aunt's fridge. This summer, her lemonade stand proceeds are going to a little girl in Uganda.

That's how this works.
We do what we can.
Because if we sell enough lemonade, some pretty cool things can happen.

And Carlos, he gets to study in Turkey this summer.

 I just got a text saying someone sold enough lemonade.

Carlos will be studying in Turkey this summer.  That's pretty incredible.

the school or the six pack

          I went to Target today to pick up an overgrip for my garage sale tennis racket. 

          An overgrip is what you put over the original grip when the original grip has worn down too much. For all I know, I doubled the price of the racket by putting this $7.99 tape on the handle. But before I could enter Target, I was approached by a big, friendly man who works at the Washington Sports Club, the sports center on the 3^rd floor of the building.

          “We’re having a sale!” Tambe smiled. “Do you have two minutes? Want to see the gym?”

          I had two minutes.

          Tambe bounded up the stairs. I bounded after him. In the back of my mind I was thinking I had wanted to join for a while. Friends of mine from church went there. They lifted. They played basketball and volleyball. They’d participate in the “free” cycling and cross-fit classes. I could finally get my core in shape.

          He showed me around. Said that normally, it costs $280 to join, but today, it’d only be $78.80, then $80/month starting the next month.

          

          I looked at the paperwork. I could cancel after 15 days and still get my $78.80 back if I wanted.

          “Sure.”

          Tambe gave me a fist bump. I was sold.

          Getting home later that night, I saw that Caleb posted this on Facebook:

Last chance to sponsor one of the Safe House kids! We send the money this week, so now is a good time to say, "Yea, I have $40 (each month!!!) that is probably better spent on sending a child to school that otherwise WILL NOT get to go."

          I reconsidered my gym membership. What’s it going to be: a kid’s brain, or my abs?

          If I can afford an $80/month gym membership, then surely I can afford to send a kid to school for half that price.

          I just spent the past 6 weeks traveling around with Jim Wallis, who writes in the epilogue of his book on the common good, “If you are a father or mother, make your children the most important priority in your life and build your other commitments around them. If you are not a parent, look for children who could benefit from your investment in their lives.”

          Jim doesn’t say, “Look for kids who can benefit from your charitable donation.” That’s too easy, and in fact it’s probably hurts more than helps. Think of this as development: giving a kid the opportunity to be taught how to fish.

          Now onto other matters—who wants to do crunches with me in the park? 

Written By James Colten

You could be my grandchildren

This is a story about my family, my flesh and blood.

My brother-in-law is from Ghana.  He has dark rich West African skin. My sister has light Dutch-Wisconsin skin.  Their kids have creamy brown skin, dark curly hair, and long eye-lashes that get them compliments often.  My parents love that they have grandkids that don't look like them.  They love that their flesh and blood have dark rich skin.  

_____________________________________

My dad and I flew 14 hours, then 3 hours, and then drove a couple of hours to get to the orphanage. We were taken down to the house where we would be staying during our trip. It was a long day but we wanted to see the kids and beat the jet-lag so we walked up to the orphanage. 

We held and hugged each child as they came to the gate to welcome us. The little ones reached their strong brown arms up to us and smiled when we held them.  The older ones took our hand in theirs. They were all older, taller-they'd grown up again. The kids played with the veins in my dads hands-he held them and threw his head back, laughing with them.  

After dinner we all gathered in the house to worship.  The kids, 30 or so, stood together and sang loudly.  At times they used their hands to clap.  At times they used their hips to dance and Stuart sat behind the drum and his brown hands flew across its top.  They prayed with their bright eyes open, they prayed with their eyes pinched shut.

My dad stood in a corner of the room.  He swayed back and forth.  I saw him wiping tears off of his face.

At the end of worship, Patrick asked my dad to share some words with the kids.  All of the kids sat down.  My dad clasped his hands together in front of his chest.  He began to speak and his voice quaked. He closed his mouth, gained his composure and spoke,  

"When I look at you, I see the faces of the children of God." He paused and patrick translated.  The room waited quietly for him to continue.

My dad collected himself, "When I look at your faces, I see that, you could be my grandchildren." 

My dad paused Collected himself, waited for the translation. 

Patrick began translating the simple phrase, and as he translated the room began to erupt.  Some kids started clapping when they heard the English, others had to wait until Patrick translated what my dad had told them. But by the end of the translation the kids were clapping, some were cheering, Patrick jumped up and down in the middle of the room, William said Wow, Wow, Wow!  The cheering went on for a few seconds. My dad put his hands up to his lips. His eyes were wide. He smiled. Then he turned to Patrick, shook his head and said, "That's it." 

"Wow, wow, wow."

To see them as children of God was to see them as his own grandchildren.

And to be seen as someone's grandchild, well it's such good news that you can't help but jump up and down in the middle of the room.

Things Kids Say

When Saap is not wearing his bright orange St Mark school uniform, he is wearing the blue striped soccer jersey. He walks home from kindergarten with the other kids, takes a bucket bath in the courtyard, and puts on his evening garb.

We play a game where I say, what about pineapple, and he tells me the word for Pineapple in Luganda.

What about beans?
ebijanjalo.

I used to teach him English this way.  But now he says, what about leaf, grasshopper, tree, clouds, chin, elbow and I shake my head and try to remember the Lugandan he teaches me.

During worship, William asks the children if any of them have testimonies to share.  Saap stands in line and when it is his turn, he speaks, "I praise God for what I am and I praise God because I am alive."
______________________________________________________

We were walking in the dark to the Safe House for devotions.  Faridah came with us.  Faridah and I walked together and we talked. That alone is a beautiful thing.
The shadows showed us where the dips and puddles in the road were.  The candles in the shop windows provided the shadows.
Faridah?
Yes?
What do you want to be when you grow up?
Ahh.  She paused.
I want to be an accountant like daddy William.
Wow! I said, An accountant! Like daddy William! My voice trailed off-it is good to hear that she wants to be like her daddy. Are you good at math? I asked.
Yes, I like math.  I always want to be a singer too.  
I side-stepped a puddle, A singer, really? Are you a good singer?
I'm alright.  Even Becca, she wants to be a singer so much.  Many kids want to be singers.  I just love to sing.  If I could always be singing...
Yea, you are a good singer, I think. 
Do you know what I want to do someday?
No, what?
I want to start a house for children.  But for me, I think you need to care for little children so you can, so that you can grow them.  You know? Sometimes if they are too old...they need to be young so you can...
Teach them?
Yes.  Do you know what I want to call my house?
No, what do you want to call it?
Can you guess?
Guess the name?  Ummm, Faridah's House of Hope? I guessed.
Faridah paused and thought about the name. Hmmm, yes, maybe.  
I offered her a few other name options.  She liked them all.  Then the conversation switched and she took my hand.
Do you know which word I love so much? 
What word?
Mercy.  I really love it so much. I don't know why, but I love it so much.  I see it in the Bible. 
Yea, that is a good word.
But, what does it mean? She asked me.

Well, that's a really good question.  I'm not sure how to explain it.  
I didn't have to. Faridah started talking about a new topic and I kept watching the shadows so I wouldn't fall.
______________________________________________

Derek has only been at the orphanage for a little while.  He was a new boy last time we visited.  He did not have a sponsor yet.  While we were there, Charlie decided that he could sponsor someone, and so we told Derek that Charlie was going to be his sponsor.

On Thursday night-just a week ago-I said good bye to all of the kids.  I was walking out of the orphanage when Derek ran up to me.  All of the other kids had gone back inside. He grabbed my hand and I bent lower to hear him.

Tell Uncle Charlie that I love him so much. 
Derek gave me his message and waited for my response,
Ok, I will.  I'll tell him.  I gave Derek a hug and he ran back inside with the other kids.

There was so much urgency in Derek-it was so important to him.
Charlie must know, he must know that I love him.  So much.