FlowerDust.net

a year ago today, i was in uganda with 15 other bloggers.  it was the first time poverty and i ever had a go at each other. i don’t think it liked me very much…coming in with my western attitude and designer jeans.

and honestly, i loathed it right back.  i loathed it so much, i’ve woken up every morning since this trip determined to crush it.

a year ago today, i wrote this:

==

today is one of those days i don’t want to end.

we started early, and headed to compassion’s ugandan central office. the professionalism, humility, and passion the staff shared literally glowed the moment we walked in. i was surprised to hear how many of them are reading our blogs…so to the compassion staff, thank you. thank you for teaching us so many things.

we spent most of the day at a project about an hour outside of the city…and let me tell you, i will never, EVER complain about oklahoman roads again. i have to admit, it was actually a pretty fun bus ride with everyone bouncing all over the place. things i didn’t even know i had jiggled!

at the project, we had the chance to see how compassion’s child survival program works…putting a special focus on meeting the needs of pregnant women, and their children from birth to three years old. we visited homes where we saw the program in place. workers from the project visit and help set goals for the family and the child, as well as provide for some basic needs.

after a delicious lunch, we broke off into groups to help observe and serve within the project. carlos and i taught a group of kids the motions and words for YMCA and Jesus Loves Me…we served the smallest children a special milk mixture that helps both nourish them and give them energy…

and then we played. out in the back of the project is a huge, grassy hill (complete with cattle at the bottom) and overlooking the amazing ugandan landscape. sophie and i played a game of ball (and let me tell you, some of these girls could out throw ANYONE)…we blew bubbles, picked up kids, loved on them, and made a very slow journey back to the bus…with children latching on to any available spot on our bodies, screaming “BYE, MUZUNGU!!! BYE, MUZUNGU!!!” (which means “bye, white person!!!”)

i was tired. a little sunburnt. sweaty. smelly. really needing to use the bathroom. and really not wanting to leave.

about 20 feet from the bus, a nine or ten year old boy in a school uniform ran through the crowd, jumped in front of me, faced me, and gave me the biggest, tightest hug i think i’ve ever received. he simply muttered the words, “thank you, muzungu. thank you.” and then walked away.

to those of you who have recently sponsored, or have been sponsoring a while…allow me to say, thank you, muzungu. thank you.

it all started with a woman named annette. she’s a single mom who lives in six-by-six room with her five kids (sometimes a sixth stays with them too).

i had seen poverty before, but from my 32″ TV inside my trendy little house. i read about it online, saw books and magazines dedicated to photodocumenting those who have the least.

but, i had never touched poverty until i took a seat on that bed in annette’s house.

i had never smelled poverty until we walked through the slums where she lived.

i had never tasted poverty until the combined smells of sewage, cooking, and poor hygiene combined and entered my mouth as i inhaled deeply.

before my trip to uganda, i cared about the poor, but i didn’t love them.

if i loved them, i would have done something, plain and simple.

and i hadn’t.

in crazy love, francis chan writes

lukewarm people do whatever is necessary to keep themselves from feeling guilty. they want to do the bare minimum to be “good enough” without it requiring much of them…they ask, “how much do i have to give?” instead of “how much can i give?”

it took about a month of struggling through my emotions (which i had shut down because denial is easier to handle than the pain of reality) and i finally realized if i am truly a follower of christ, truly a believer, i must change.

i must act.

there is no excuse for us not to love - and therefore act - on behalf of those without. without food, water, healthcare, or freedom. the bible does not give us an option. we are told over and over again what we need to do, but we get lost in our burden of wealth and we forget.

we compartmentalize “poverty” and “injustice” as causes and don’t integrate serving those trapped in them in our minute-by-minute living, as our continual act of worship.

In the 19th century, Robert Murray M’Cheyne wrote,

I fear there are many hearing me who may know well that they are not Christians because they do not love to give. To give largely and liberally, not grudgingly at all, requires a new heart; an old heart would rather part with its life-blood than its money.

today is blog action day and bloggers are posting about poverty. which me writing a blog and you reading it is all fine and dandy, but it’s blog ACTION day.

there are thousands of kids who need sponsors through compassion international. for what you would spend seeing a movie or buying a new shirt or going out to eat with a friend once a month, you can release a child from poverty. the math is easy. and if you think you’re too poor to do anything, and you’re reading this on your computer or your phone in america, you’re not too poor. and forgive me, but you need to stop thinking that you are.

if you already are showing the love of christ to someone less fortunate and you’re sacrificing then with all my heart i say thank you.

if you’re not, you can start today.

i hadn’t got online yet. my computer has been acting funny so i rebooted. as it started up with the reassuring whirl of a hard drive booting, i turned on my space heater, and returned to my desk.

opening up firefox [the browser of choice], my eyes skimmed down my news section as i typically do every morning.

my heart got stuck in my throat, and i couldn’t breathe when i read this headline:

SCHOOL FIRE KILLS UGANDA CHILDREN

I clicked, tears already welling up in my eyes.

A Red Cross worker told the BBC that it is difficult to identify the bodies as sometimes only pieces of bodies are being found.

all my mind can see right now are the all the girls sophie and i played ball with two afternoons. their smiling faces, their bright eyes, their laughter. their silliness as they would catch and tumble and drop the ball. the sing-song in their voices.

to clarify, the school in the story is not the school we visited. but i have no doubt the girls are just like the ones we were playing with. hugging. loving. laughing with.

linet, the girl chris and i sponsor from uganda is nine. i just cannot imagine it.

my heart is breaking today, probably in the deepest way since returning from africa. i keep crying. i am really glad i have an office to myself right now.

i am about to email our team that went to uganda with the story. so i also ask you pray for their hearts.

but most of all, please pray for the girls in the school, their parents, and the country of uganda. what a horrible tragedy to face.

if you would like to sponsor a child from uganda, please click here.

EDIT: Sorry, here is the link the the article.

that was one of the questions david kuo asked at our dinner with leadership development students while we were in uganda. a man who is ugandan, a father, a pastor, and leader answered without hesitation,

“uganda.”

some of us seemed a little shocked. america. it’s the land of opportunity. it’s safe. you can get medical attention. at least three meals a day.

“exactly,” the man said. “you know where your next meal is coming from. you have jobs. paychecks. in uganda, you may not know where your next meal comes from. you have no money. you have nothing to depend upon but God. and i would rather have my children rely on God more than i would want them to be distracted by everything else.”

i have been contemplating the things upon which i have dependence. my job? absolutely. my paycheck? yes. my car. what’s in my fridge. other people.

when one of those things gets murky or muddy or falls apart, it’s easy for me to fall apart, too. i am distracted by them, sometimes (and probably more frequently than i’d care to admit) more often than not.

where does my help come from?

i am distracted from dependence on god.

in a culture of over-abundance and luxury, how can we remedy this?

(ps - if you want to look at some of the most beautiful children in uganda, click here.)

After three solid days of intense experiences in Africa, we took a small plane (which was an intense experience of itself) to a spot about 250 miles away from Kampala, the only city in Uganda. The lodge we were staying at was powered by a generator. The nearest medical facility was six hours away on unpaved and potentially unsafe roads.

We were in the middle of nowhere.

And it was time to rest.

One afternoon, we took a ferry across the Nile River and then hopped in a small bus. We drove half an hour on the bumpiest dirt road one could ever imagine to Murchison Falls, one of the many wonders of the world. We then hiked another half hour to the very top.

Slowly we progressed on a narrow, rocky trail, dodging tree branches and mosquitoes along the way. We occasionally stopped at the most beautiful parts of the rapids, taking each other’s pictures, but for the most part, the hike remained quietest part of the trip.

As we reached the top of the falls, we passed several signs warning us of the steep cliffs and the danger that awaited. Nobody was scared. Everyone was in awe. We helped each other over the slippery rocks and finally reached the very top.

Our guides told us many people have died at Murchison Falls. There are no rails to stop you from falling over. It’s you. The rocks. And the falls. The beauty of water is transformed into something breathtaking. People become mesmerized by the unique blend of tranquility and power. Some to the point they lose footing and fall over.

Standing as close to the edge as our leaders and guides would let us, we let the wind carry the spray and slowly drench us. Any fears of falling, of accidentally swallowing the parasite-infested water, of getting ravished by malaria-carrying mosquitoes…had all vanished.

The hardships of the trip – the pain we saw, the poverty, the brokenness…those things didn’t disappear or float away in the rapids of the Nile. But taking that day to rest…to go to a quiet place and be reminded of the incredible power of the Creator, if anything, more tightly knit His sovereignty and hope to the terrible things we did see.

Rest bound together the incomplete to the complete.

We cannot be dependent on ourselves and dependent on God at the same time. When we consider the practice of rest unnecessary, we also will inevitably lose sight of the necessity of God.

since our internet in uganda was maybe 14.4kb/s at its quickest was being consumed by fifteen passionate bloggers desperate to sponsor children, some of us are just now getting a chance to post some videos and other stories from the trip. including me.

first: watch this…

on the second day, we drove into a more remote area of the country to visit a project especially for educating and taking care of pregnant mothers and their children up to the age of three. each mother has a case worker who visits and checks in on the health, well-being, goals, and dreams of the caretakers and their children.

shannon, shaun, brian, and i took quite a journey on foot through this rural village until we reached the home we were to visit with the caseworker.

the home was immaculate.

way cleaner than my house has ever been.

carefully laid lace cloth graced every bit of furniture. another sheet of lace served as the front door.

the caseworker asked such detailed questions…taking notes in a very full, but organized folder.

she was asking about musa, the youngest child.

is he playing well with others? (yes…he loves to play ball.)

has he had fevers? (no…he’s been healthy)

have you made him any toys? she showed us several toys she made for musa. handwoven dolls and balls made from dried banana husks.

we asked what dreams she had for her children.

“i dream someday…my children will become doctors…”

when you trip over the toys in your house today, i pray you’ll think of the toys this mother made for her son. when you lock your door tonight as you get ready for bed, i pray you’ll think of the delicate lace sheet blowing in a small, ugandan doorway. these sights and sounds and thoughts have never left my mind…and i pray they’ll always remain with you, too.

we have so much. and these children need so little in comparison. just a little bit can truly make the biggest difference in the life…and the dreams…of a child.

over 350 children have been sponsored as a result of this trip. don’t let it end now.

it’s not too late. if you haven’t yet, please sponsor a child today.

it was really, really late on our last night in uganda. shuan, brian, keely, boomama and i needed to get to our rooms…but bats swarmed the outdoor hallways.

boomama, you see, is terrified of bats. and they didn’t like us a whole lot either. especially after shaun popped one in the face with his computer…

we made a mad dash for it…and we were dive-bombed…twice.

you know when you went to youth camp. they split you up from your best friends and threw you into groups with total strangers. you had no idea what to expect. but after the first few hours those strangers become fast friends, and before you know it, it’s time to go home.

in my inbox sits somewhere around 47 emails (most of them “reply to all”) from our group that went to uganda. of us talking about how we are all waking up at 12:30 am and staying up until 3 am. about how we’re struggling to adjust, but knowing reentry is all a part of it. about eclipses, crying, blogging, and…missing each other.

we went through a lot in a few short days. hundreds of children latching on to us. heads busted open. mosquitoes. meeting our sponsor children. eating weird things. bats. monkeys. aids clinics. no sleep. probably 900 bottles of water. kampala traffic. home visits. mothers. babies. stowaways. coke light. deet.

now that we’re all back home, it’s not the same.

my heart has been aching in so many ways. today, it aches for missing these amazing people.

(this picture was taken at lunch our last day in uganda. prossy is the beautiful woman in the middle. you can meet her here).

Practically 48 hours with no sleep. Give or take 40 hours of travel. One stop in the custom’s “lock up” (I am so criminal), two flight delays, and finally, I am at home.

Shaun made the most incredible video of our home visit I referenced earlier in the week about the family who lives in a 6×6 room…

Until my brain is functioning again, please watch it, and let it sink in.

As soon as I can, I’ll share with you the amazing number of children that were sponsored during the last week. Thank you all from the very bottom of our hearts.

Let me ask you this…on our trip, what has been the one thing that has stuck with you? That has burned something inside you you’ll never forget?

if you’re familiar with the myers briggs test, you’re familiar with the “thinker” and the “feeler.” i’m definitely a thinker. a thinker with empathy, but a thinker nonetheless.

sometimes i wish i had a little more “feeler” in me, but i think i’ve gotten used to the fact i don’t. it’s easy for me to envy those who do feel…who are moved by things so simply…i sometimes even catch myself thinking, “seriously? what is wrong with me…why can’t i feel the way she’s feeling…am i just emotionally blunted or what?”

it can be a very confusing place.

in the last week, we’ve been faced with things we’ve never seen/heard/smelled/touched/tasted. things that are heartbreaking. things that aren’t fair. things that are beautiful. things full of joy.

and…can i be honest with you? i am having a difficult time processing a lot of it.

the “thinker” in me has no idea what to do. what “feeler” i do have has certainly been pushed to her limits, as things have been burned into my soul for the rest of my life.

but really? i don’t get too fired up about anything. i can be passionate, but not overtly. i pretty much stay even-steven, taking things as they come and as they go. have i always been like this? for the most part, yes.

is my heart lazy? afraid?

or do i just not function in that way?

and is that okay?

in a few hours, we leave africa. and i know africa will never leave me.

but i think it’s somewhere stuck between my heart and my head.

and i just don’t know what to do with it.

the day the fed ex package arrived in my office, i fell in love. a little blue dress. neatly braided hair. and just a bit of a quiet smirk that said, “i may look harmless, but inside, i’m a rockstar.”

when i learned i would get to meet linet on our trip, i started counting down the days. i kept her photo in my backpack, so i’d constantly see her beautiful brown eyes. a few days before the trip, chris and i went shopping for her and her family. because i wanted to travel light, i made a simple list of a few things, but by the time we were done, we had visited a couple stores, spent way more money than we had planned, and i did something i never had done before.

i broke down and cried in the middle of walmart. all because of a panda bear.

first, for those of you who don’t know me, i simply do not cry. at funerals, i may get a little misty, but it really takes something monumentally emotional in order for the waterworks to start (as if funerals aren’t monumentally emotional?)

but after digging through a few stuffed animals, i saw the one. a panda tucked behind some elmos and some bratz. i picked it up and the moment i took hold of it’s cuddly little paws i had the realization that in just a few days, i would be taking hold of linet’s beautiful little hands.

the tears began to fall.

this beautiful girl with hopes and dreams and friends who loves to sing and who is the smartest girl in her class and i would meet…very soon.

thursday, one by one, they introduced us to the children we sponsor. in a dress as white and as pure and as gleaming as a fresh snow with the same neatly braided hair and same quiet smirk walked towards me. i grabbed her tiny body and held it close, whispering my name to her and telling her how beautiful she was. i gave her some of my beaded bracelets so we could match and told her that every time i see my bracelets, i’ll be thinking of her.

she was so shy. it took a while for the quiet smirk to leave her face. we’d tell her jokes…try and make her laugh…but she’d keep her lips sealed tightly together, with only the corners of her mouth turned up.

finally, i asked dennis (who was translating for me) to tell her if she didn’t smile, i was going to tickle her. he leaned over and whispered something to her.

with those big brown eyes she looked up at me. i made the universal i’m-about-to-tickle-you sign with my fingers, giving her one last chance.

nope. lips locked. she was trying hard.

i had no mercy. i dove in and began attacking her ribs in a ticklish frenzy, and finally she giggled. ever so quietly, but it was certainly a giggle.

we played with my camera, took a few photos, and went through the gifts for her and her family. we blew bubbles with some of her friends, and her big toothy smile never left.

it was so hard to say goodbye. i told her how proud i was that she was the smartest in her class. how beautiful she looked. how much chris and i love her and that we’d send her some letters and photos right away. and how much jesus loves her too. how very very much he loves her.

carrying a bear and a large red bag that probably weighed more than she did, she walked away with the group she came with. i walked to our bus and fought back the tears.

i cannot believe the amazing honor and privilege i have to see linet grow up. to see her turn into a teenager. to hear about a boy she might like. to see her become even taller, stronger, and more beautiful. to hear about the things she learns in church, and to hear about how she’ll change the world.

i know she will change the world one day. there’s not a doubt in my mind. she’s already started…with a few beaded bracelets, and a fuzzy little panda bear at her side.

goosebumps ran up my arms in spite of the balmy african air. five of us sat at our dinner table, intensely focused on the story a man named vincent shared with us.

vincent is a graduate of compassion’s leadership development program. through the leadership development program, hundreds of students each year are energized, mentored and strengthened in their faith as they prepare for lives of leadership in their churches and communities. [read more here].

the twenty-something-year-old grew up like many uganda children. his father had married several times, and he lived with his father, step mother, and step brothers and sisters. when he was just a small boy, he worked in order to earn money to pay for his schooling. and he worked hard. his parents would never let him play and rarely speak.

“they suppressed me,” his quiet voice said.

on the weekends, he would visit the compassion project.

“it was the only time i was encouraged. instead of suppressing me like i was at home, they let me play. they let me learn. and i knew i would get a good meal on project days.”

someone asked, “so, if you never were sponsored, what would be different in your life today?”

he quickly responded, “if it wasn’t for compassion, i wouldn’t have found jesus.”

the story doesn’t end there. because vincent found jesus, his step mother, his sisters and brothers also found jesus.

your $32 does so in tangible, day-to-day ways. but beyond food, medical care, and support, your $32 presents the gospel to thousands and thousands of children.

in the last 12 months, over 102,000 children have entered in to the sweet, life-giving relationship with their father.

over 102,000 children have been wrapped in arms of peace and hope.

you can’t put a price tag on that.

but you can give a child a chance to hear about someone who loves him more than he could ever ask.

or imagine.

and for you, all it takes is a simple click. a simple click here.

please.

allow god to work in you and use what he has given you to make an ETERNAL difference in the life of a child, and quite possibly the lives of his family…today.

and this is with re-applying SPF 45 many times over the last couple of days.

today is one of those days i don’t want to end.

we started early, and headed to compassion’s ugandan central office. the professionalism, humility, and passion the staff shared literally glowed the moment we walked in. i was surprised to hear how many of them are reading our blogs…so to the compassion staff, thank you. thank you for teaching us so many things.

we spent most of the day at a project about an hour outside of the city…and let me tell you, i will never, EVER complain about oklahoman roads again. i have to admit, it was actually a pretty fun bus ride with everyone bouncing all over the place. things i didn’t even know i had jiggled!

at the project, we had the chance to see how compassion’s child survival program works…putting a special focus on meeting the needs of pregnant women, and their children from birth to three years old. we visited homes where we saw the program in place. workers from the project visit and help set goals for the family and the child, as well as provide for some basic needs.

after a very delicious lunch, we broke off into groups to help observe and serve within the project. carlos and i taught a group of kids the motions and words for YMCA and Jesus Loves Me…we served the smallest children a special milk mixture that helps both nourish them and give them energy…

and then we played. out in the back of the project is a huge, grassy hill (complete with cattle at the bottom) and overlooking the amazing ugandan landscape. sophie and i played a game of ball (and let me tell you, some of these girls could out throw ANYONE)…we blew bubbles, picked up kids, loved on them, and made a very slow journey back to the bus…with children latching on to any available spot on our bodies, screaming “BYE, MUZUNGU!!! BYE, MUZUNGU!!!” (which means “bye, white person!!!”)

i was tired. a little sunburnt. sweaty. smelly. really needing to use the bathroom. and really not wanting to leave.

about 20 feet from the bus, a nine or ten year old boy in a school uniform ran through the crowd, jumped in front of me, faced me, and gave me the biggest, tightest hug i think i’ve ever received. he simply muttered the words, “thank you, muzungu. thank you.” and then walked away.

to those of you who have recently sponsored, or have been sponsoring a while…allow me to say, thank you, muzungu. thank you.

contrast.

there’s so much of a contrast here.

we’re sitting in our bus, driving to another project, and no matter where it is i look, the contrast is striking.

the colors in nature…the rich greens and reds in the grass and the mud…and the unsaturated grey in the sky.

the cars and motorbikes that crowd the roads…and the goat i see about ten feet outside of my window…and the cattle that passed by our bus yesterday.

the skyscrapers in downtown kampala…and the rows of small markets of local vendors selling plantains and brooms.

we spent some time at a project yesterday with some of the brightest kids. this is a photo of henry and me. henry is in 7th grade. he is articulate, bright, and athletic. we stood behind the church which is under construction and he asked if things in america were constructed with wood or with steel. he told me about his sponsor family in the states.

“mr. and mrs. james peterson,” he said. “do you know them?” he asked with a spark of familiarity and hope in his eyes.

by the time we had finished touring the project and were about to leave, i headed back to talk to henry one last time. before i took two steps in the small lot where he stood with his friends, two little children in rags, wiping their drippy noses with dirty hands latched on to each of my legs.

while looking holding them tightly to me, i looked up at henry.

the contrast between these local neighborhood kids, who aren’t in the program, and the children who had been in the program for a while was more drastic than anything i had seen on the trip.

it is absolutely unbelievable what the $32/month mr. and mrs. james peterson so graciously provide does for henry. he’s educated. he’s healthy. he’s clean. he has a plan to go to university. “it’s only five years away,” he told me excitedly.

and henry isn’t the only one. there are over 900,000 other children like henry out there in the world. who have a shot at changing the course of history in their countries.

countries like uganda, hidden away between some of the world’s most volatile and violent nations.

i’m not going to beat around the bush. nobody’s telling us what to write about what we’ve seen. all of us on the trip know the communities on our blogs, and i know you guys don’t like fluff. so, here it is.

many of you are feeling what we are feeling. many of you are feeling moved. and that is great. but you have the ability to to do something about it, and do something about it now.

shaun said something great in our devotional time this morning with the ugandan compassion staff. compassion is not just releasing children from poverty in jesus’ name, they are releasing americans from our burden of wealth.

don’t hold on to your stack of cash any longer. it is needed here. it is needed now.

the link is up there on the right. find a child. sign up. it will take just a few moments of your day. don’t wait any longer. your child needs you now.

do it.

When’s the last time you spent $9? I think, for me, it was when I purchased lunch at the OKC airport on Sunday afternoon. A slice of Sbarro cheese pizza and the biggest bottle of water I could find.

After visiting one of the Child Development Centers and churches, we broke off into a few groups to visit homes of children who are being sponsored.

I wish this photo did it justice, but it doesn’t. This home was no larger than 6′x6′.

Just one room.

Just two beds.

And seven people to lay their heads to rest each and every night.

Annette is a single mother of six children. Her husband left her. He lives in the area, but they’re separated. He doesn’t provide any support for Annette or her six children, ranging in age from around five years old, to teenagers.

In order to make ends meet, Annette is a cook. She makes cassava and potatoes. On good days, she makes around $3 for working from dawn until dusk. Of that $3, only $1 is profit.

We also met her daughter, Brenda. Brenda is sponsored by a family here in the United States. The other five children, however, are not. Because of her sponsorship, her school fees are paid. Annette worries about paying for her other childrens’ fees. She knows they must go to school in order to break the cycle of poverty in which they live. She also has to pay for groceries.

On top of the school fees, Annette pays $9/month for rent. $9 for the tiny, six by six home where they live.

Brenda pointed out the spot on one of the beds where she sleeps. She wants to be a doctor some day.

There were seven of us in Annette’s home today. We sat shoulder to shoulder. Probably not unlike how tight space is when her whole family is home.

Taking a deep breath in…I let the air rest inside my lungs for a few moments before exhaling. The smells of the slum outside, the raw sewage in the small ditches along the roads, and the lack of hygiene of the people living in the area, as offensive as it should have seemed, I couldn’t stop breathing it in.

The reality that surrounded me in that moment caused my stomach to drop out of my body and land on the make-shift floor. Chris and I sponsor two children. A little boy in Ethiopia and a little girl in Uganda. I imagine their home is something very similar to the home I was sitting in. That every day, they walk along the side of dirt roads, covered in garbage, livestock, and disease.

And they smile.

Because they know two people from Oklahoma City love them so very much. And more importantly, they know there’s a Jesus who loves them even more.

[[You can sponsor a child like Brenda today...]]

PS-There is so much more to write and show. We are having some internet difficulties though. I encourage you to check out the other bloggers to see what they’ve experienced so far. Hopefully, we’ll have a more reliable connection tomorrow.

ok…i am so NOT lonely. keely, my roomie…is awesome. and really, how can you be lonely with 15 of your closest, newest friends packed into a little van?

it is 3:16 am Uganda time and it’s time for me to go to bed. we will start our visits to projects tomorrow, so please keep us in your prayers as we are all going to be feeling the jet lag. we will have some videos and a lot more photos coming soon…

goodnight!!!

We landed in Brussels around 45 minutes ago - it’s 8:47 am Brussels time and 1:47 OKC time. I drugged myself up on the flight and don’t remember much of it. So…that’s good!

(That’s me and RocksInMyDryer.net)

On the flight from OKC to Chicago, I got locked in the bathroom. As in…call the stewardess, this baby is NOT opening up. Five minutes later, I was free. That’s the craziest thing that’s happened so far.

That, and Shaun’s discussion about nose farts…

so, who came up with that phrase? san diego or bust. new york or bust. bust what? what does that mean??

anyway. i am without internet at home. we moved from smoky apartment to a non-smoking apartment successfully.

at noon-ish tomorrow, i leave okc to fly to chicago to meet up with everyone. and then we go to brussels. and then africa. we arrive there late at night monday night, but around 3 pm or so central time for you guys. if you ever want to know what time it is in kampala, you can click here.

if you’d like an action step…please. email everyone you know about this trip. put a widget on your blog. have them follow our blogs.

blog our videos.

blog our photos.

blog the stories.

you are as much a part of this trip as we are…if not more. we need you!

from a wooden seat at java dave’s, i sign off for now. please continue to pray for us.

ok…so, we are leaving for uganda in less than a week, and i would REALLY love your help. this whole “history making” trip is just that because of the influence of web 2.0 - blogging, more specifically - and that wouldn’t even be anything if it wasn’t for YOU GUYS!

i have said this before, but you, the people who share and comment and make flowerdust.net the community it is, are what makes this unique.

it would mean the world to me (and literally, would mean LIFE for many children!) if you could help us get the word out. we are SO excited and SO passionate about getting these children loving sponsors…

i will stop at nothing…i will beg you, plead with you, even pay you if necessary to show some link love to this trip. these children deserve it!

here are some images that you can link to…two that will send people to my blog for uganda videos/photos/updates, and two that will send them directly to sponsor children from uganda.

please use them wherever you can, however you can…please just use them!

and please let me know in the comments if you are using these to link. if i can, i’d like to pick you guys up something while we are there.

i cannot tell you how much i am looking forward to sharing this journey with you!! for reals.

you can copy the code in the box underneath for the picture you want to use.

LINK TO FLOWERDUST TRIP:

<a href="http://www.flowerdust.net/?cat=73"><img src="http://flowerdust.net/images/flowerdustlarge.jpg" alt="BLOGGING LIVE FROM UGANDA" /></a>

<a href="http://www.flowerdust.net/?cat=73"><img src="http://flowerdust.net/images/flowerdustsmall.jpg" alt="BLOGGING LIVE FROM UGANDA" /></a>

LINK DIRECTLY TO SPONSOR CHILDREN FROM UGANDA:

<a href="http://www.compassion.com/sponsor_a_child/default.htm?referer=80315" onclick="javascript:urchinTracker('/outbound/www.compassion.com/sponsor_a_child/default.htm?referer=80315');"><img src="http://flowerdust.net/images/ugandalarge.jpg" alt="SPONSOR A CHILD FROM UGANDA" /></a>

<a href="http://www.compassion.com/sponsor_a_child/default.htm?referer=80315" onclick="javascript:urchinTracker('/outbound/www.compassion.com/sponsor_a_child/default.htm?referer=80315');"><img src="http://flowerdust.net/images/ugandasmall.jpg" alt="SPONSOR A CHILD FROM UGANDA" /></a>

YOU ARE JUST AS MUCH A PART OF THIS TRIP AS THE PEOPLE GOING…let’s use the power of blogging to change the world!

A few months ago, Carlos asked on his blog,

What could be done if bloggers put the influence of their blogs together to create change in a single moment?

Well…On February 10…

We’ll spend several days in Uganda with Compassion International, visiting villages, meeting children and sharing this experience with you through video, photos, and our words. We will bring these children to you.

They need you…

Here is a list of everyone who’ll be going. Visit their sites. Pray for us. We return on February 18. Over 20,000 miles round trip. I can’t wait.

Joe Carter http://www.evangelicaloutpost.com and http://www.frcblog.com/
David Kuo http://blog.beliefnet.com/jwalking/
Randy Elrod http://randyelrod.typepad.com/
Chris Elrod http://www.seekersolutions.typepad.com
Carlos Whittaker http://www.ragamuffinsoul.com/
Heather Whittaker http://whittakerwoman.typepad.com/
Shannon http://rocksinmydryer.typepad.com/shannon/
Sophie “Boomama” http://www.boomama.net/
Anne Jackson http://www.flowerdust.net,
Phil Ware http://blogs.heartlight.org/phil/
Doug Van Pelt http://www.hmmagazine.com/blogs/doug
Shaun Groves http://www.shaungroves.com/shlog/

Compassion Staff

Spence Smith http://spencesmith.typepad.com/spence
Brian Seay http://brianseay.wordpress.com/

Photographer

Keely Scott - http://keelymariescott.blogspot.com/