We are paving hope.

"As they make music, they will sing. 'All my fountains are in You.'" Psalm 87:7

It's been nearly two weeks since I've gotten back to Uganda. I could tell you all about the 50 hour trip here, the bruises, the doubts (was this really the right decision??) and the realization that you only "go back to your first love" (in this case, Uganda) when it truly is love. I could write all about reuniting with my students again, the kids that covered their mouths to stop squealing with joy, the tears that melted into our giant smiles, the miracle of meeting newborns, and the wonder of seeing the kids you once loved reach their arms towards you just the same, yet somehow they are three inches taller! I could write a novel about Baby Linda, who was once no more than a yellowed, sickly skeleton. I remember being too afraid to even hold her a year ago because I was afraid that I'd break her into pieces. I wondered if I would even see her this time around. I prepared myself for heartbreak to be totally honest.

Baby Linda in 2012 (Photo Credits: Coco Wilder)

Today, her skin is soft dark chocolate, her hair is braided all pretty, her chubby stomach pops out in a way that just makes you want to hold her and stare into her big beautiful eyes as she sticks out her little tongue and calls out, "Mama?"I want to teach her to dance. I want to take her for ice cream. I want to give her the world. Every time I see her, I can't help but think, "This one is a miracle. This one is God's grace, embodied in the form of our Baby Linda. This one is living, breathing evidence of hope where we had once silently given up. Even when the rest of us could no longer see it, our Savior saw the best in her. He held tight to her, He fought for her. And now she walks. And how she laughs! 

Baby Linda today :)

There are so many stories I want to delve into - to share in all their depth and glory. I could talk all about my reactions to being back, the way my brain and my heart are often completely at odds, yet somehow I feel perfectly at home. But today's post is for Shamim. A girl I met here on my first day back. A new addition to New Hope Orphanage. I've fallen hard for a lot of the kids here, but for none so fast as I did when I first met Shamim. She's fifteen and her smile fills her entire face, including her eyes. Her laugh sounds like a pretty bell and sometimes I ask her questions just so I can hear her cheerful voice answering me. "Auntie Jane, I'm just so happy to seeee you! How are you today, I am wonderful because I am seeing you!" she says. 

Though her presence and smile are strong, Shamim's feet are tiny, like a five-year-old girl's. I would see her rolling around the orphanage compound in her wheelchair, often carrying books and a pen. She can't get enough of learning. When it comes time for church, I noticed she would park her wheelchair at the foot of the stairs and crawl into the room as all the other kids stopped to watch. Same thing when she enters her classroom, and her dorm...she told me she would get infections from the cuts on her hands and knees from crawling through the dirt. Let's just say I teared up when I heard that. No teenage girl should ever have to crawl anywhere! This isn't just a health issue, it's a dignity issue - and for most of us this realization comes naturally - it hits you like a wave that knocks you off your feet. But for too many growing up in Uganda, prejudice against the disabled is like a stubborn beast. Roots of fear and misunderstanding run deep; special needs children continue to be abused and abandoned, school and orphanage gates are locked at the sight of them....their beauty which has become so obvious to me is lost behind walls of stigma, labels of death which are all nothing but lies.

Yet when I see Shamim, she is strength. She is the beauty of our Heavenly Father who knew exactly what He was doing when He created her.

I thank God for our orphanage director, Ken, a Ugandan man that sees Shamim the way God sees her. His doors are open to special needs children, and he longs to know how to make them feel at home. With the extra donations I've received over the past few months, we decided to build ramps into every facility, making them accessible to Shamim. So far, we've eliminated the stairs going in the church so that Shamim no longer has to crawl. By the end of the summer, we will have eliminated every stair at New Hope Orphanage, making it completely accessible!

During a conversation with the orphanage director, he clarified to me that these ramps aren't only being paved for Shamim. He explained to me the importance of paving ramps into the boys dormitory too - for future boys with disabilities that Ken plans to take in.

Slowly but surely, I see walls starting to come down.

Stigma around disabilities is being replaced with hope for a world that feels a bit more like heaven. A world where children with special needs can come into a home that not only tolerates them but was created for them. A place where children are no longer measured by their ability to perform on exams, to make friends, or even to physically move. Instead their infinite worth is found in whose they are, the One who has made them for purpose, for love. 

I've only had a taste of it so far, and I can't wait for more. Shamim's self confidence is growing. She was never created to crawl and watch life play like a film as she sits on the sidelines. She was created to prosper, to reflect the image of her Savior in confidence and in strength, everywhere she goes. 

Now she won't have to live life at New Hope from the audience, she will take part in the girl's choir, she will sing, she will dance, she will praise and shine. She'll never need to crawl into church, or into her classroom. She will roll her wheelchair in, proudly smiling and knowing that New Hope is a place that is for her and not against her. She knows it is a place where she will find acceptance, affirmation, and justice restored.

I pray that more would come. That more would hear our Father's revolutionary message for the first time. That disabilities are no longer a curse but are realities in our world which strengthen us and call us to see each other the way our God does. That our special needs children are beautiful, worthy to be celebrated, precious creations of our Father. And He wouldn't have them any other way. And if they are good enough for my Jesus, they are good enough for me. 

I pray for hundreds more to enter our gates. He has taught us to take them in with open arms. 

Can you believe this is only Week 2 out of 8??