Our Ugandan Adoption: Our Last Days

(Pictures to come)

Day 9

So after the National Park yesterday, and staying out late last night, and having to get packed up and ready to go, well, let's just say that I slept well. I hopped right up when my alarm went off at 5:30 AM, because really, who could pass on taking a shower without being electrocuted?

Anyway, I was pretty somber this morning. I mumbled through breakfast with Nap, packed up my three suitcases in the car, and paid for my last night with a kind of cranky face on. Even the hotel seemed eerily quiet as we started our final morning. It just seemed to me that we still had so much that we could do, and although parts of the trip seemed like a distant memory, it did not feel like we had been on the ground for all of this huge amount of time.

We were told that Father had been asked to say Mass at one of the top 3 schools in the country. They had top scholars at this boarding high school, football players who made the national team, etc. And when we pulled up, it was a massive, beautiful campus. And of course we were late. We could hear the kids singing on the covered bleachers, cars, school officials, and security milling around everywhere. We pulled in through the gates, and were led up to a room when they wanted to greet us and serve us a small meal, but of course we declined all, apologizing for the time, and promising to come back up after the Mass.

Father had given us fair warning, telling us that the event was to last 5 hours. None of us were truly excited about the idea of spending 5 hours hanging out at a school listening to speeches, watching awards being distributed etc. Well, we kind of changed our tune when we got down to the football fields and the Mass. As we were walking down, the kids were praising and worshiping Our Lord and Savior in way that only Africans can do - loudly and beautifully and faith filled. But once they saw Father heading over, the music changed, and the screaming started. Like literally, it was rock star quality screaming. We were being escorted down the bleachers towards the altar platform and kids were screaming that Father Michael was here, and coming. And they were trying to touch him, and shaking our hands, and it was crazy. This is how Ugandans respond to a man of God and this is why we support Father Michael in the US. He touches and changes lives.

Anyway, he immediately began singing and we were escorted to some seats off of the side of the altar. And as the Mass began for some 2000+ people, we all wished we had more battery life in our cameras. Children were broken off into groups stretching across the bleachers; red, yellow, red, yellow. Boys were in red, girls in yellow. So why did they have to differentiate? Well, if everyone has super short hair, and you were just looking from the shoulders up, it would be hard to tell them apart. Make up is not allowed, and most girls did not have their ears pierced.

Father preached a beautiful homily, someone was slain in the spirit, people prayed over and for each other, Father blessed peoples studies, Nap was a Eucharistic minister for over 500 people, girls were crying, the choir was rocking, and 3 hours later, Mass was over. I could not believe that 3 hours had gone by when Jeff said what time it was. My favorite part of the Mass, besides the choir, and the love and joy people had for the Eucharist, was the prayers of the faithful. The girl doing the prayers finished, and Father stopped the congregation.

And now the whole trip had this urgency with it - to get as much done as possible, but also a level or worry about the lack of ability to communicate home. Jeff's little angel, Peyton, was at home, sick, the whole time. She had high fevers, had pneumonia, was up and down and all around. And being 9 hours ahead, and being without service, and running out of air time, and not being home to help his wife.....well, Jeff was making a sacrifice of heart and spirit, being in Africa, and trying to stay focused, and you could tell that is was hard for him. And Father turns to the congregation and says, "I have never done this before, but I had a friend in America named Peyton, and I want all of us, to bow our heads and send her our prayers. Prayers for healing, prayers of love, because if anyone can make her healthy, if anyone can help her, it is these thousands of youth here today." And it was all I could do to not cry - I just totally ignored Jeff, and pretended like I was praying for anyone else's child. Had I looked at him, and given any thought to his sacrifice, and Beth's sacrifice, and her hardship, I would have lost it. But for over a minute, youth were quiet, and calling out prayers, and calling for healing for Peyton, and doing so with fervor and with faith. And it was beautiful, and holy, and heart wrenching.

And of course, after Mass, Father introduced us, and then he made us say something to the crowd. And if any of you know me well, you know that I HATE this part. I can never think of the right words to say and I stink at public speaking. Ugh. Well, I just stood up there, mic in hand, and said the one thing that I know is true, "If America had half of your faith, half of your beauty, half of your love, "half of your joy, we would be a different, more beautiful, more successful nation. Thank you for sharing your hearts with us." It really was all that I could say. I told father that I feel like Moses - I was stuttering Moses, and I needed a front man like Aaron to interpret things for me and spit them out. Maybe I should rename my blog to Aaron.

When Mass was over, and Nap was done passing out awards to the Catechesis people, we were escorted back up stairs for drinks and refreshments. Father took us down stairs to meet more individuals and we got a tour of the new grotto area. A young girl came over and escorted me to the girls study rooms where they were diligently studying and getting ready for the exams tomorrow. She kind of threw me in a room and asked me to encourage the girls studying there. After the first room, I had to do the same in 4 other rooms, before someone came and rescued me. I thanked them for being faithful, told them to study hard and to not lose their faith because God knew them, their needs, and their hearts, and that He would bless them in all things and provide for them. I told them that Americans would be praying for them, and that we had high hopes for their success!

From the school, we went to a Shrine were miracles have been occurring; healings, and such. We had to bring Jesus back to the tabernacle there. It was nice to be able to seen one last Lugandan Mass, pass out sweeties one last time to hungry curious children. We said a few prayers for our beautiful intentions, we were blessed by the parish priest there, and we were able to have a few last moments of quiet before heading to a quiet little market for a few last trinkets to bring home.

This market was just what we needed to finish up our shopping list. You can do pretty well with about 200,000 sh and a shopping list my size. I felt comfortable with my purchases, but planned on rounding it out in Amsterdam and with chocolate. From there we headed toward Entebbe to see what we could see of Lake Victoria. Father drove around the city asking people for opinions about the best place to go before heading to Hotel Protea. Oh, it was beautiful - a private beach, outside and inside dining, wifi, nice interior bar where people were watching the Chelsea game. We sat and order random things, talked, wrote out thank you cards, shopped inside at the gift shop - no CC allowed at the shop, but they do take American dollars. We stayed until about 8 PM and headed to the airport.

We made our good byes, ran through check in, and were off to shop and spend way too much money in a hot, stuffy, smelly airport. We were exhausted-ly debating the benefits of staying up the whole trip, when to sleep, and how much to drink when we were finally able to board. We tried to sleep but ended up watching movies, and dozing in and out. We landed in Amsterdam and shopped for chocolate, tried cheeses, drank a bunch of coffee and wandered from outlet to outlet charging various electronics. And before you knew it, we were off again, another 10 hours to go. Even as I write this, I am still not adjusted to the time. Nap kept laughing at us telling us that we were going to wake up at 2 AM and not be able to get back to sleep. Jeff fought sleep halfway home and Nap took over. And during that first night, when I was wide awake from 2-4 AM, I laid in bed staring at the ceiling thinking, "Please just fall asleep so you do not have to admit to Nap that he was right!!!"

Oh they are the greatest.