"Stronger Than Death"

Since August Geoff and I have been on sabbatical from the ministry at New Hope Uganda. One of the books we’re utilizing during this time is Returning Well, a book which helps us to analyze our thirteen years in Uganda and brings us into an understanding of who we are in the midst of what has been and what will be. I’ve continued to not only work through Returning Well, but also read other books. Having time to read and complete a book is glorious! 

In my desire to devour inspiring works, I was pleased to be able to receive an early copy of a new book, Stronger Than Death: How Annalena Tonelli Defied Terror and Tuberculosis in the Horn of Africa, written by Rachel Pieh Jones, a missionary currently serving with her family in Djibouti.

My emotional response to the life of Annalena Tonelli was visceral: painful, disturbing, gripping and gut-wrenching conviction gave way to strained facial expressions; I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until many sentences into paragraphs. The author, Rachel Pieh Jones, fantastically tells the story of this unusual (extreme understatement!) Italian woman as revealed to her by many who walked alongside Annalena in Italy, Kenya, Somalia and Somaliland.

The life and actions of Annalena Tonelli are underserved by the descriptor, “passionate”.  I not only unknowingly held my breath, but gasped at retellings of her life choices and subsequent challenging situations. Truthfully, Annalena would not call them challenging, but simply explain her behavior and choices as “normal” life experienced while truly loving and serving the poor. As Jones points out Annalena would NOT want to be likened to Mother Teresa, but in the reading of her life story one can’t help when the mind wanders to comparison. Indeed, much to her friends’ and family’s dismay she is frequently termed the “Mother Teresa of Africa”.

For me, in a sabbatical time of personal and professional evaluation, this book draws me deeper into the emotional and analytical discoveries of who I am and have been and what we’ve done in Uganda these past thirteen years. It was almost unbearable to read the quotes from Annalena—I felt so judged. It was consoling to read Jones’s take; like minds find comfort together. As I read I expected to find a deeper level of acceptance of myself, my work, my struggles, and an ability to reframe my victories. And though I was significantly on edge at times during the reading, I was not disappointed. 

In 2003, Jones herself lived just minutes from where Annalena’s life came to an end in Somaliland. That intersection of her life and Annalena’s eventually took her on a journey of discovery of not only Annalena, but of herself. It is a narrative you must read! 

Through Annalena’s story and Jones’s telling of it I found my thirteen years of “sacrifice” to be not just vindicated, but celebrated in my own heart. For a few weeks now I have been revisiting my failures, weaknesses, mistakes and regrets. To have both real success and real failure side by side where only God can heal my lack of ability to honestly and realistically process it all is what I long for.  Reading Stronger Than Death served as a piece of the healing process God is taking me through as we evaluate where we’ve been and where we’re going.

Stronger Than Death squeezed my heart as I read. I felt amped up reading this recount of Annalena’s life. It was almost exhausting and yet to say that is embarrassing given that I read it while sitting in a comfortable chair, in a beautiful house, far from war, starvation, conflict and disease. However, the truth remains that to read this story is to be drawn into the stress and tension that many who worked tirelessly alongside Annalena felt daily.

However, Jones has a way of breaking up the consuming tension. Amidst the story of death, destruction, violations and desperation, she ably intermixes events which allow a laugh of release to penetrate taut muscles, giving way to exhalation.

Her analysis of Annalena’s faith is stretching; Jones’s conclusions are not always mine. Jones’s retelling interspersed with her own take-away of Annalena’s life is more than just a challenging read. It is a crucible upon which you are forced to dissect your own faith.

I found myself in disagreement with some of Annalena’s choices, yet, I could not dismiss her strength of conviction and execution of her faith. There were times that I believed Jones to be too generous with her conclusion of Annalena’s underlying motivation.  I was disturbed by some of the seeming emphasis on applauding Annalena’s love of people to the exclusion of what I believe to be the ultimate act of love and service which is to lead them to the only one true God who ultimately and completely saves. In Annalena’s words we find her firmly fixed on the poor first and then to her Christian faith. Jones exposes how she did not seek to convert her Islamic patients or coworkers to Christianity, but to simply love them. Of course, to love people unconditionally is tremendous. She undisputedly accomplished great and heroic things in the midst of disaster and war to heal and care for the poor, but lack of leading them to attend to their greatest need, Christ himself, unsettled me. God IS Love; there can be no real love without God, so to elevate the human need and the subsequent desire to serve the human need above the place of faith in the One who gives the real, true strength to carry out any action of real love is to work at a skewed pace and focus.  These kind of strong reactions typified my reading of Stronger Than Death. Despite disagreement with either Annalena or Jones’s take on Annalena’s working out of her faith and love, there is an intense and consistent draw to continue reading.

There is no denying that Annalena’s life and work reveal a unique approach to service and ministry. For instance, there is a retelling by one of her former coworkers describing how Annalena bent over to work with patients. From their hard physical labor with the patients back issues developed, yet Annalena never complained, she just continued working. 

At this I thought of all of our talk at New Hope Uganda and in the missionary community at large about “rest” and “self-care” and me, being one intimately acquainted with back problems and ongoing pain which I have addressed with care by doing exercises and refusing to lift or carry heavy items, I felt a bit guilty when I read this account, but also a little angry at Annalena for being “successful” at extreme self-sacrifice when I have sought to care for myself in tandem with serving others. The dichotomous tension forced me to analyze my own approach to both self-sacrifice and self-care and to ultimately refuse to either beat up myself or give myself a blue ribbon of commendation.

Jones transcends the misunderstood descriptions others have written or supposed and presents a picture of this woman who will challenge you to the very core of who you think you are at your very best. I found Annalena to be a woman who is not married to only one idea, but is able to do whatever it takes to serve the poor.

In addition, this story reveals the multi-faceted attention to culture that must be addressed when serving the poor cross-culturally. Of course that seems obvious, but the valuable cultural understandings gained while reading Jones’s account reminds me of our own cross-cultural discoveries these past thirteen years. As I read of Annalena’s life I see a reflection of mistakes made and victories gained in a culture foreign to us as we relationally worked alongside our Ugandan friends. And yet, I cringe at any reflection that seems to place me alongside her—I am tempted to say I don’t measure up. Yet, I am reminded to not compare myself to her. I am so very different than Annalena, not better or less.

To be honest, I struggled with some of Jones’s own rendering regarding the extreme nature of Annalena’s faith, love and service to the poor. But, I urge you to read the book and draw your own conclusions as God speaks to you through this biographical piece. It was released on October 1st and can be found on Amazon. 

On Wednesday of this week Geoff and I will fly to Uganda for a brief two and a half week visit to attend a wedding and graduation as well as fully involve ourselves relationally with our Ugandan and expat friends. As we leave the kids behind in Denver with Geoff’s parents, and to get themselves to and from school and sporting events, I wonder about the timing of the visit. The kids are sad that they are not able to go. Please pray for us as we travel, pray for the kids as they miss their friends and this opportunity to see them, and pray for all of us to be a blessing to all we meet along the way. 

Taking Stock

Geoff and I are home alone tonight.

The kids have gone overnight camping down on the farm with some friends. (Hoping they don’t have any pythons, cobras, safari ants or any other unique creature disturb them.) Geoff is preaching on Sunday so we settled into a night of preparation by study and reflection.

Shortly after we cleaned up the dinner dishes he asked me to name my favorite part of the past two weeks. 

I had no idea. 

It wasn’t that my brain couldn’t choose, it was flat blank.

I commented that I’d have to check the calendar to even know what we did. 

And so have been our days, so full we collapse into bed at night. Though he and I attack the pillows differently—he snoozes DEEPLY within moments and I struggle to get any shut eye for more than an hour, the days are indeed packed.

When I took stock in answer to his question I was floored at all that had gone on in and around us!

At a time in our life when we are endeavoring to prepare for a very long furlough, our emotions are at constant ebb and flow. Some moments are manageable and some are overwhelming.

A quick synopsis of recent events reveals we haven’t sat still. And yet, in it all, we are thankful! God has given us sooooo much: friends, material goods, children, beauty of creation, abundant ministry opportunities and His rich presence. Instead of being overcome by stress at all there is to do, we are striving to remain thankful at all we have in Him. Indeed, we are rich!!!!!

Just two weeks ago we welcomed one of my friends from Pepperdine, along with his wife. It was a whirlwind visit starting on Sunday morning when I picked up Joanie, my friend’s wife, from Entebbe airport and enjoyed a full day of visiting together along with another missionary we’ve come to know who works in western Uganda, and our dear daughter Nabukeera. It was an eclectic group and quite enjoyable to talk with poolside in Entebbe. In the evening we retrieved from the airport Joanie’s husband, David as he arrived from a week of ministry in Ethiopia. While on the way back to Kasana Joanie decided it would be nice to have a skirt made of local materials so I called Geoff’s colleague, Deborah, who is one of the staff that I mentor. She is also a tailor and agreed to make a skirt that evening. When we arrived home at 10 p.m. Geoff and the kids had a nice supper ready for us, which we enjoyed while continuing to catch up. I think we got to bed around midnight.  The next day we gave them a quick but thorough tour of the Kasana site of New Hope Uganda. Joanie also received her skirt in the morning and, after alterations, was able to take it with her as they left site later that afternoon to return to Entebbe.

Carothers and Britton families

We have had few personal visitors these past 13 years, but this was David’s second visit and Joanie’s first. How blessed to be able to show them the ministry here and share in learning about their ministry!

The rest of that week was quite packed! Sam arrived on Wednesday from having taught primary school in Kampala the first term of this school year. Then on Thursday we all traveled together to Kampala where Geoff and I had a number of doctor appointments—all with good results! (It is SOOOO much cheaper here to do well doctor visits!!!) On Saturday Toby took the SAT and Saturday evening we shared a fantastic three hours with dear, longtime friends at their home in Kampala. This was a major part of us preparing to leave well! Laughing, sharing memories and prayers for the future filled our evening which culminated with their presentation of a unique gift of Ugandan art. As Geoff and I enjoyed our former co-workers the kids whooped it up with their friends. It was a great night, but a difficult goodbye! 

Serunkuma and Britton families

And speaking of goodbyes, one of our foreign staff families left for a five month furlough the same Sunday I was in Entebbe. 

Then, a week ago Tuesday Geoff’s Early Adulthood staff came together at Deborah’s house for an amazing meal she had planned and prepared to both celebrate the Passover season and to appreciate our family.

Britton family and the Early Adulthood staff

On Wednesday the childcare department staff met to honor Geoff for the years of service he has given to the ministry. Though we were blessed to hear appreciation given, it was a bit uncomfortable to be the center of attention!! The next Wednesday we hosted all the foreign staff at our house for fellowship and a meal catered by Aunt Lucy, our David Family mother. (That Wednesday was WILD as Geoff had gone to Jinja at 4:30 a.m. (4 hours away) on a public taxi and returned just 10 minutes before the foreign staff arrived!)

And all this activity of celebration, welcomes and goodbyes, oozes alongside the house presenting itself as a thing to be packed and cleaned sometime in the next three weeks!!!

Goodbyes are a thing in this season of our life—who are we kiddin? Good-byes are frequent in all seasons for us missionaries!! However, there are some welcome goodbyes . . .that kind was heavily celebrated by our kids recently——goodbye to the 10th and 11th grades!!! Kevin and Acacia finished up by May 4th and Toby May 12th. I celebrated today as I finished up their portfolios after completing grade reports and transcripts earlier in the week. Since late last week I have been cleaning out the school banda; I am almost finished, but the emotions keep welling up as I sort through old papers and projects. This could very well have been my last homeschool year with my kids. I am gripped by juxtaposing emotions. Honestly, I am tired and truly looking forward to them experiencing a larger Christian school this fall. But, not being with the three of them all day long everyday while enjoying their learning journey will be a major adjustment. Prayers are appreciated in this regard!

Last Tuesday Susanna, a fellow foreign staff member, was a part of our family dinner table, followed by games. Unfortunately, one of our David Family staff members suffered a second seizure episode that evening, which sent us running to attend to him, (he had collapsed earlier in the day as well). He is recovering fairly well so far. Prayers are appreciated for his health and well being. 

On Wednesday we showed one of Louis Giglio’s talks on God’s creation with the David Family (“Indescribable”). They loved hearing about God’s power and creativity! This week we will share with them his piece called, “Symphony,” in which he shows us how the universe audibly declares the glory of God.  

Yes, it has been a busy, busy two+ weeks! 

But, you know what? My favorite thing of the past two weeks has carried me through all the different activities and interactions I’ve just shared. But, it is not an event or a person. 

I have discovered a music compilation by Shane and Shane. The worship they inspire with clear, resonant and soothing voices accompanied by emotive music has kept me focused on God Himself. The way they sing of His power, love, justice, beauty, goodness, compassion and Lordship have consistently evoked deep devotion and appreciation for God the creator, redeemer and sustainer.

There is NO WAY we can move through this season, or any life season, without Him. I have been drawn into worship of God and humbled when I reflect on His goodness toward us. 

His presence and His hand on us these past 13 years is beyond our understanding. 

This next season I expect the same. His hand. His love. His power. His plan. His people.

We are thankful!

Our dog's unassuming talent has made her "village famous"

Geoff and I take a walk every morning and often in the evenings. Rarely is the dog, Bubbly, not an accompaniment to the routine. She may temporarily disappear into the morning darkness to investigate a smell, but she always rejoins the well-worn route, frequently just as we engage the turn toward home.

In the evenings she remains closer to us, and especially keeps a keen visual on my whereabouts as we meander sometimes off New Hope Uganda property near village dwellings. Apparently, our predictable path has created a love/hate curiosity in the village children. The simple talent of my dog to provide timid, dog-fearing children with a giggle and the urge to run out of their houses or gardens shouting, “Bubb-boo-lee, Bubb-boo-lee, Bubb-boo-lee” got me thinking. If that black, smelly, furry, four-legged creature offers such a sweet diversion from the mundane nature of life, what do I offer those around me? Which got me thinking further...I live among extremely talented people. 

Here at New Hope Uganda, Geoff and I have the rare privilege of working while living alongside our more than 170 staff members. Only 20 of the staff members are non-Ugandan. Who are these non-Ugandans who have left their home countries to immerse themselves in another culture offering themselves and their talents to others? Of course, we’ve all come to minister to the children of New Hope Uganda in one way or another, but most of us add “side-talents” to the mix.

In our small group of Foreign Staff we have a cosmetologist who has kept us cut, dyed, frosted, highlighted and coiffed for almost 15 years. And to add to her line up of talent she has recently been sought out by the plethora of New Hope Uganda delivering mamas as a very helpful and able doula. Plus, if one HAS to prepare something gluten free, she can help the product result in something exquisite.

Another of our missionary mamas is an accomplished, homespun-nutritionist for all your gluten free, dairy free and dye free needs. And, if you develop a hankering for homemade cheese, she’s the expert to seek.

There is an artist who has designed, painted, decorated and sweetened the environment of our primary school classrooms in the last two years, as well as created our beautiful annual themed banners for our church structure each year for more than 14 years. 

We have a theologian delivering well-studied gems on God’s character and truth to both small groups and the church at large. He is also a published author on the topic of orphan ministry.

And speaking of authors and speakers one of us is working on her second publication even as she excels in bringing the message of true womanhood to myriads of our children and Staff at New Hope Uganda, and also to many across Uganda. 

An accomplished physical therapist has found numerous designs for “useless” cardboard. She makes countless implements which function as utilitarian tools for the kids and staff in our Special Needs ministry. She is also VERY adept at giving periodic help and suggestions for exercises to alleviate various aches and pains! I am thankful to have personally benefitted from her expertise!!!!

Imagine having to remember all the details of upper level high school math as you homeschool your older teenager. I can leave fretting behind now that we have a missionary math guru who is willing to fill in the gaps for Toby as he tackles the more abstract mathematical concepts. Not only that, but she has provided an afternoon diversion for Acacia as they work together in the NHU Academy library. Praise God for those who instill unique blessings into our kids’ lives!

An expert administrator might not be the first thing thought of when ruminating on the talents of your friends, but one of our American Staff could pretty much revamp Chip and Jo’s well-oiled Magnolia Market métier eliciting a hearty, “Thanks for taking care of the mishmash! We  hadn’t thought of that approach!” 

Another has the uncanny knack to advance, above expected pace, numerous committee group meetings. Doesn’t everyone love meetings????? Well, with him at the helm it is not the usual death trap.

Hungry for something you wouldn’t expect to eat while in the remote bush of Uganda? A long time missionary has seen it all in her 30+ years on the field. She has learned to work with little, yet has garnered the talent for laying a table with amazingly scrumptious creations on short notice with limited resources. No matter how rushed she might be before you arrive she has the ability to promote a sense of calm and welcome unmatched anywhere else I’ve experienced.

Hmmmmm, a sense of calm, isn’t there an essential oil promising such? We have someone who knows the answer to that question! She keeps a healthy supply of oils for most ailments and generously shares. 

Or, if you desire, you may seek the more traditional approach with our own medical doctor who recently came on staff with us. What a blessing to be able to consult with a friend on site when in the past we might have had to travel almost two hours into town. In fact, the other day I stopped to talk casually with even another medical doctor who is serving here for just a few weeks. I quickly shot off a volley of questions just as if we were shooting the breeze, as I hung out our van window, having interrupted his short walk to another location in the ministry. These are not things we take for granted out here in the bush!!!!

And the children in our care also benefit in other diverse, perhaps more seemingly minute, but still important ways from the missionaries serving with us. A good example is a sort of bicycle shop taken up residence next door as the newest addition to our teaching staff can be seen most Saturdays on her porch repairing the many bicycles of nearby children. 

And last, but by any means never least, is the one accomplished at listening intensively even amidst the chaos of numerous children shouting and running amuck nearby. I do not think I have ever left her presence without her gently placing her hands on my shoulder or back as she sincerely prays for God’s hand to move in my life. Immediately there is a feeling of peace which floods my being. 

My dear friend, this community is unique and we are grateful to have spent the last thirteen years among those who employ their God-given talents to bring life and joy to those with whom they share a small piece of Ugandan dirt.

And speaking of dirt, I need to finish this up and go reroute my talented, “village famous” dog from the cavernous hole she’s currently digging to China as I have the unfortunate talent of stumbling in her works of art.

A Change of Course

This morning I drove to kiwoko to meet a friend whom I mentor, but before I even left the front gate I picked up a passenger. (Not unusual) One of the aunties who works in the childcare department needed to go to Kiwoko to check on some of our children, so instead of her waiting for a motorbike ride we went together. On arrival she announced that she was visiting someone who lived directly next to where I needed to stop. 

Shortly after greeting my friend at her place of business, a former staff member of New Hope Uganda arrived and we were all blessed to catch up on the news of his family. 

I was unable to meet with my friend because she was very busy working alone due to a sick coworker. When she described how sick he was I got worried. We had recently lost someone in our community due to a sickness that sounded very similar to what she was describing. Just then a young man came to help her in the shop, but I asked if he could go with me to check on the coworker, whom she said was not wanting to go get medical care.

We arrived at the sick coworker's house, after making only one wrong turn and found his children playing outside and his wife cooking. When we asked about him she went inside to get him. As I waited, I didn’t know what to expect, but thankfully he looked better than had been described. He agreed to let us take him to our clinic where he received care very quickly and was soon ready to go back home.

I am soooo thankful we checked on him! We have lost too many people in our community over the years due to failure to receive medical care—for many reasons. Here is a smattering of  scenarios—they don’t want to spend the money (often they don't have enough), they try the witch doctor first and never follow-up at a clinic, they fear hospitals, they lack money for transport, or the family tries to treat with local herbs.

Once he finished at the clinic I accompanied him back to his home with Sam driving. It has been awhile since Sam had a crack at driving, so I figured this to be a perfect opportunity. I am glad he practiced driving today because once back at our house he heard from his future employer that they need him to report to work this coming Monday!

Sam will be teaching primary school for the next few months until his laboratory technician course commences around late July or August. At lunch we all realized that with us leaving for the U.S. in June we will not have Sam in our house anymore starting Monday except for the occasional visit! I am excited for him, but the changes produce deep emotions for all of us!

This afternoon he played a local game with our neighbor, Mercy. 

The other three enjoyed sitting out in the sunshine listening to music and playing a board game. Kevin is entertaining the younger neighbors now on the side porch.

I will miss the days when they are all around the house!

Airport Bathroom scented hand sanitizer

We are a family of Americans living in a country far away from our birth places. The kids have grown up here--we arrived more than 12 years ago when they were ages 2, 3 and 4. In all of our travels, adjustments to foreign culture and experiences with differing world views, the things we consider comforting can be a bit ODD! 

At lunch recently the kids lamented about things passed by during our Christmas shopping trip a couple weeks ago that would have made good stocking stuffers. One was a three-pack of teeny, tiny bottles of hand sanitizer. This regret brought up a memory in another of our kids who complained that he’d had a small bottle of hand sanitizer hooked on the outside of his backpack, but it was recently finished off by an unknown user when he was in a public place. (Yes, no lie, these are the intensely intriguing lunch table discussions you can look forward to if you ever have the privilege of eating with us!)

Geoff commented that we had plenty of hand sanitizer around the house and we could simply refill the small vial. 

“But, Dad! I LIKED that one! It smelled like the airport bathroom.” Once we all had a loud laugh, he had to further defend his weird statement with, “Whaaaat?! It smelled good and it reminded me of our travels!”

I can see it now...an entirely new line of products created by third culture kids.

Toby and his TCK friends. We hosted a New Year holiday party out at our place. They enjoyed sleeping in a tent, exploring our site, playing ping pong and carpet ball, lots of sweets**, basketball, lots of sweets**, watching movies and YouTube videos, lots of sweets**, playing the games of "Things" and "Apples To Apples" and creating goofy photos.

**We had an overload of sweets given to us in Christmas packages by family members from the states. It was enough to last us a couple of years!!!!!! So, being able to share stateside sweet treats with these other bush-residing expats was a lot of fun!

October Reflections

October. It’s my birthday month—a time I look forward to celebrating. For me it is usually a month filled with anticipation, wonder, joy, excitement and celebration. (Yet, in a month which ushers in the festive holiday season, why are the October calendar pages always drab brown, pale orange, filled with dead leaves and sparse landscape? For once I’d like to see a pretty October representation grace a calendar page. If you’ve seen one, please share it!!!!) 

Last year, just a few days after my birthday, Geoff and I were awakened at 4:30 a.m. by an insistent Uncle Mutaka knocking and pleading on our bedroom window, "UNCLE GEOFF! WE NEED AUNTIE MARY TO COME QUICKLY! AUNT SARAH IS DELIVERING HER BABY RIGHT NOW AT UNCLE OPIO’S!!"

I included a short snippet of the delivery on Facebook, but I never wrote about the balance of that day. (Geoff wrote a bit about it in one of our e-newsletters which you can read here.)  https://us10.campaign-archive.com/?u=ff941d7dddc933fea5b364f87&id=494d9144fa )

Every once in a while I have contemplated blogging, but couldn’t bring myself to do it. Even now I still feel the reeling emotions. In fact, every single day since October 22, 2017, I have reflected on that day and its far reaching ramifications for my life and those around me. 

That day sobered me in a way from which I have never fully recovered. And yet, though life goes on, of course, I don’t want to fully recover, but stay VERY aware of making each and every day count for HIM. I am hoping that sharing the events of that day, and the numerous challenging losses we experienced that month will deepen and further the needed processing.

The last blog post I wrote in 2017 was in October on the 21st, the day before fresh reality of our own mortality arose and pummeled us. Little did I know, the title of that blog, “The Blink,” was to be a precursor to the blow we would receive on the 22nd. In it I spoke about death and life and relationships as I lamented the short life of an infant son of dear friends—he had been born October 5, and died October 15th, 2017. The deep anguish and loss in just ten short days was profound. Even more so, after the 22nd I just couldn’t put words together for quite awhile. In fact, I couldn’t bring myself to write a blog again until the following February, and even then I kept it lighthearted in comparison to what was going on inside of me. 

The opening of “The Blink” blog ( http://brittonsinuganda.blogspot.com/2017/10/the-blink.html ) was this:

“‘Surely the lowborn are but a breath, 

the highborn are but a lie. 

If weighed on a balance, 

they are nothing;

 together they are only a breath.’

Psalm 62:9

The days. In single form: some drain, some energize. As the sum of hours: culminating in weeks, months and years hopefully a rich, rewarding blink.”

Our friends Steve Brown and Wanda Martin concluded their “blink” on October 22nd. The understatement is that it was a surreal day. From about 7:45 a.m. onward I moved through most of it numbly.

We returned from Kiwoko hospital about 7:30 a.m. that Sunday after taking Aunt Sarah and Uncle Godfrey to the hospital to make sure Mama and baby were doing fine. We were so thankful to have been a part of the joyous and very unusual birth!

We were only home about 15 minutes when Geoff answered his phone and gasped, “What? Uncle Steve? Isaac, what are you saying? NO!” With a horrified and panicked look he hung up and said, “I don’t even want to speak what Isaac just told me. I have to verify it.” He would not speak the words, but we all knew what we spent the next 45 minutes frantically trying to verify. I immediately texted Kathryn Brown stating that I’d heard Steve was very sick and asked if she could please call. No response. In fact, somehow we had received the news within moments of Steve’s actual death and Kathryn, alone at Rubaga Hospital, was herself shocked.

In Kampala, news spread quickly. Meanwhile, Kathryn picked up the kids and our IY house coordinator Rachel, and took them to the hospital. Even before they arrived back home there were people gathering at the house to mourn in the traditional Ugandan way—to flood the home and sit is a sign that we are with you in your grief. 

Out in the village we gathered our kids in our living room, confirmed the unreal news and sat, wept, prayed and wailed as a family. Then we coordinated who would go to town with us to comfort Kathryn and the Brown kids. It was decided to take Uncle Robert Ayola, who had worked so closely with Steve in the IY program, and Uncle Stu Dendy, a fellow English staff member and good friend to the Brown family.

The journey in was a mixture of silence, heavy sighs, tears, offered up memories, chronicles of recent conversations and plans made with Steve, repeated statements of unbelief as to what had been told us and where we were going as we rolled down the road together. 

It was one of the longest trips into Kampala EV-ER. And not because we hit jam in unusual places, had to take pot-holed side roads, made a wrong turn and hit more jam, but because we couldn’t believe where we were going—to mourn the loss of a dear friend who had been so full of life and passion, who was fun-loving, animated and a friend to all. Even today, I can hear his spirited laugh ringing in my ears. Throughout this past year since Steve’s death, whenever I am at the Brown’s house I can hear his common expression, “Come On!” 

As Geoff drove we contacted as many people as possible to get the news out, but most of them already knew. The speed of the grapevine here is nothing short of miraculous. I was able to get ahold of someone at their church as they were gathering together for service, so they sent quite a few of the Brown’s closest friends to the house. When we arrived Kathryn fell on me and wept. My insides wrenched and tears streamed again down my face, a path already wetted many times that morning.

Most of that day, surrounded by friends, she was a picture of strength. Taking what had been delivered and moving forward to what needed to be done, talking quietly with various ones of us about details of travel to the UK, the need for decisions about the body, the burial, service, timing, flights, etc. But, each time friends entered the house she hugged and cried again. Seeing people who loved Steve and had been such an integral part of their life together opened up the well of grief with each arrival. And each and every time as I watched my tears began again to flow.

We saw friends we hadn’t seen for years, and given the reason we were seeing each other we vowed to be better at getting together. It was a time of reunion for all and for those of us from New Hope Uganda, meeting some for the first time. Steve’s life was intertwined with a diversity of people. In addition to his involvement with IY, he’d played in a local Kampala football league, participated for a number of years in the Kampala Amateur Dramatic Society, worked with the youth at their church, and served in parent leadership groups at their kids’ school to name some of the activities to which he gave his best. The impromptu gathering of an estimated 200+ illuminated the testimony of his love for all people. 

At some point around midday, with a friend from the Brown’s church, Geoff and I accompanied Kathryn to the mortuary appointment to make arrangements. I could NOT believe we were actually driving to take care of the paperwork regarding Steve Brown’s death. 

On arriving back it was immediately apparent that the house had continued to swell with people so Kathryn asked that someone announce that at 6 p.m. the visiting conclude and she and the kids be allowed to be alone—something they had not been afforded since returning from the hospital that morning. As Geoff took time to make it known, he also began the process of informing how the honoring of Steve would take place and where. There needed to be an understanding of how things would be handled differently than the usual Ugandan approach. 

We had spent hours moving from person to person and group to group sharing memories, speaking disbelief, comforting each other—it was exhausting and yet, Kathryn’s and the kids’ grief far surpassed any one of our experiences. When it came time to leave the shock was still so fresh. We had been jolted from “normal” life and throttled with mortality and the fact that ANY of us could be gone from this life in an instant.

A powerful awareness of our fragility has followed me daily this past year.

The drive home was mostly silent. We were spent, yet suspended in overwhelming disbelief.

Upon entering our house I deposited myself on the dining room bench immediately inside the door and just stared. No thought of what to do next, but sit. A musical ringtone broke up the nothingness. I had no energy to even move to pick up the phone to answer, so Geoff responded. Another call, this one from the states and the same gasp, but this time from me as I heard my sister tell me that my long time friend Wanda had died that morning. I crumpled in a heap on the bench and began to wail again. It was too much. It was more than surreal. I couldn’t process! God, what are you doing? Steve had been sick for only a few days with a seemingly normal, run-of-the-mill illness. Wanda hadn’t even been sick!

Realizing again that my next breath could be my last, I cried out to God to help me make my life count for what He’d created it for! A plea I have made countless times this past year.

This month, October 2018, I am continuing to process intense loss amidst the desire and privilege to LIVE. I vacillate hourly between being lost in thought over the death of Steve, Wanda, and baby Jessy, an infant whose life began and ended last October, and swept by devotion to endeavors that I hope will make every moment count for His kingdom.

I spent the anniversary of Jessy’s life and death with his mama reliving painful, breath-stealing, heart-shocking moments. I wonder if the 22nd will also find me in emotional suffocation. 

But, I have to keep living. I can’t stand still, I can’t wallow in mournful memories or get swallowed by what-if? or why God? I can, however, let Him encourage me with the truth. The Bible is truth and He Himself is wisdom, ever present, good, faithful, forgiving, just, true and sovereign. I trust Him with my life and the lives of those around me. As much as I don’t understand the losses we’ve experienced, I know that I can trust Him with both life and death.

My time was set before my life began. My time will end according to His good plan. Though I have plans and desires to accomplish much in this life, I trust Him with its length and breadth. And, though I do not want to experience loss, I trust Him with the lives of my family and friends because He is trustworthy. Ultimately, this life is a short breath, yet an eternal gift. 

I don’t know why I am sometimes suddenly arrested by memories of my friends, reflecting on times with them, things they said or did and then getting lost in the muse. It most surely is a stage of grief. Without doubt denial rises frequently as I catch my breath and realize afresh that I will never actually hear Steve’s voice again or laugh out loud with Wanda or watch baby Jessy grow through childhood. 

Steve, 2009

Wanda and her husband, Bruce

Irene, Sam and their son, Nissi

But, another deep breath and I move forward seeking to make the most of the moment I’ve been given.

God, let me honor you in the days You’ve ordained. And let me encourage others to seek You, for in You is true life. 

Thinking back on the 22nd again I recall that I managed to quickly type out, in the 15 minutes of calm, the announcement of the 4:30 a.m. baby arrival. Shortly after it posted on Facebook, I received this text from my fellow staff member, “Okay. Let me hope the drama and excitement of your day are over.” WE HAD NO IDEA THE STORM THAT WAS TO COME!

And honestly? We never truly know what is coming. Only God knows and controls our destiny.

Praise Him.

Steve, Kathryn, Mary and Geoff, 2012, Kampala