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.