Tuesday the 25th

March 25^th

Today was supposed to be my Consecration day. 

I imagine that it still is.  Normally I consecrate in December.  But I decided to do it again to keep me focused on God’s sovereignty, keep my spirit focused on trust and faith and peace this Lent.  It is so great to have to have daily readings, written my one of the most knowledgeable saints, to remind you where your weaknesses are, where your spirit should be, and how to lead a life that glorifies Christ.

Last night, I did what needed to be done.  I talked to lawyers, I talked to my adoption counselor, I talked to Paul.  I prayed. I sat numb.  I stared at the ceiling.  I watched Benny with his sweet smile, sleeping like an angel.  I packed all of his things, and anything that I thought could make his or Jane’s life easier – laundry detergent, shampoos, soaps, school supplies, clothes of mine that would fit her.  I budgeted out money from what I have left to get her through a month or two.  I packed his breathing machine and rote out instructions for Jane on how to give him breathing treatments when he needs them – children’s Tylenol and advil to keep his fever down so that he does not seize.  I put the pictures of the kids that had been on the wall, in the front pocket of his suitcase.

As I started to pack his toys, he started to whimper in his sleep.  I stared at the book in my hand – the Dr. Seuss one that Paul bought, “Are you my mother?”  I scoffed at the irony.  I am your mother here in Uganda, but apparently not in the United States.  I packed his drum and his football. 

I know better than to get angry.  Angry means that I am rebelling against the Will of God.  A person who trusts in the Lord is accepting – not without emotion, but not rebelling which is the action based on distrust – the root of anger.  I want to hate the embassy woman. But I know all too well who plants that seed.

This is Lent, and the cross that has been given to me is getting heavier and heavier.  I know He will sustain me but I have faith in Him, not in myself.  How do I go home?  What do I do?  For almost 3 years, this adoption has been my whole focus – hours of researching, grant writing, paperwork, book reading, mentally preparing for another child, physically preparing for another child, preparing the children, the car, shopping for his needs, worrying about his conditions.

And now I will go home and wait for Lord.  My favorite Lenten song plays in the head, “Wait for the Lord, the end is near.”  I do not see an end.  Tomorrow was supposed to be my end.  I was supposed to boarding a plane tomorrow with him and an exit visa.  My end was HERE.  But really, my end is just beginning.

Paul held a family conference around the table, and told the kids.  They were upset, worried for Benny, wondering about the next steps.  Matt was mad because I promised not to leave him again for awhile.  Now I could be leaving any time after around 2 months.  I felt so much pain for them and their worry and confusion.  They worried that maybe they prayed too much for me to come home, and now I am but without Benny.

I have considered staying here, but my embassy told me to go home, that it would take a long time, and there is nothing for me to do here but sit and wait.  If I stayed and Nairobi said no, then I spent another two months bonding with a child that I leave forever.  Right now, at The Terrace we have hit a bonding “wall” because the waiters are young men who have fun playing with him, that let him goof off, wander around the kitchen and do stuff that would never happen in the US.  Which is more damaging? Coming and going and coming back, or him bonding with the wrong people, or me staying with him, going to the village and bonding more and then abandoning him when Nairobi says no? 

And to make matters worse, I spend almost $100US dollars every day that I am here, more when Paul was here, and it has been 6 weeks.  I make up the cost of the flight home in 18 days.  So then I can start focusing on saving that money for this new lawyer we will have to pay who deals with Nairobi cases.  Apparently she is skilled and she can guide us and the paperwork through.

Nobody has the answers, nobody can decide for me or tell me the road with the least guilt, damage, pain, peril or cost.  I accept that as well.  How heavy would a cross be if you could see the road that you were on, the twists and turns and wicked hard speed bumps?  Had God told me, when He said that I would be leaving the week of the 25^th that I would leave without Michael, would I have gone at all?  No, because I lacked trust and faith.  So He showed me what He knew I needed, and led me on my way.

Now I begin another day, completely blind, and forced by faith to trust that when Nairobi tells me their decisions or gives me a list of demands, that I can fulfill them, that I will have the right resources in place to fly back, that I will be able to handle whatever comes.  And the fact of the matter is, I will not be able to handle tomorrow, but God will handle it for me. 

Tomorrow, Father Michael will come with Jane in the Land Cruiser to get Michael and all of his stuff and the gifts for the other people that are dear to my heart.  I will kiss this sweet angel, and put him back into the hands, from which he came to me, and I will put all of my trust in the Lord because my new reality requires nothing but that.

My new reality……when the IOM doctor told me that children here who have asthma die in the village, he was preparing me for a reality.  And when the old man sitting next to me yesterday told me that his son got malaria and had a high fever, and had a seizure, and it “cooked his brain” and he is now 48 and barely there, he was preparing me for a reality.  And when I stumbled across the blog of a mom who has been waiting for 9 months in the US for her child’s visa, she was preparing me for a reality. 

This reality is something that Michael must have realized too, on some level.  He whined all night long, wanted me to hold him, fussed every time I moved, whined when I put him down.  He was the same way this morning until I bribed him with waffles and syrup.  He threw his fruit bowl across the table, crawled into my lap and did a fake whine cry thing.  He sat on the bed holding his bear saying, “Mom mom mom mom,” almost like a song.  Kids sense their parents emotions and stresses, and although my stress level is very low, my heart ache is not, my guilt is not.  He normally takes his nap on the bed, and he demands that my hand and arm rest on his stomach.  I normally pray the Divine Mercy Chaplet, and he holds the cross on the beads while my fingers slide the beads around.  He has broken 3 rosaries this way, so I have resorted to the Byzantine Jesus beads that I bought from my dad’s church in Sacramento – apparently unbreakable.  Today he fussed the whole way through the DMC but was asleep halfway through the rosary – tired of fighting the weariness that rests in the air around us.  My resignation to this new reality is complete.

He spent the afternoon, with the rain outside, sitting on the bed next to me watching Tarzan, his feet on my leg, his arm wrapped around me. He keeps grabbing my hand, trying to hold it while I type. Every few minutes he whines, and grabs my arm back.  I could sit like this forever, just the way that I sit on the couch with Anna and Matt – baby loving is awesome.  I had never paid attention to Tarzan, but out of my daze I heard Phil Collins singing away, the refrain, “No matter what may come…. this day…forever, You’ll be in my heart, now and forever….”  I choked. Prophetic.  He has been watching this all week, and I just realized that it was probably God preparing me for leaving, giving me a song to hum on the plane, sweet words to whisper in his ear when I say good bye to him.  Nothing is an accident, nothing is devoid of meaning.  I watch for signs, looks for symbols, the Holy Spirit is alive everywhere.

Our room now consists of a pile of clothes, a garbage can, and 4 packed suitcases.  It feels more like a morgue, or like sitting on death row-waiting for my sentence to be carried out. 

I try not to imagine being dropped off at the airport – an experience that I have prayed for over the past few weeks.  I imagined us waving to Linda, holding hands, marching to the ticket counter, itineraries in hand, Benny with his brand new Thomas train backpack on.  The backpack that I filled with crayons, color book, cars, dinosaurs, all new toys to play with was for our 24 hour trek home.  Now it will serve as entertainment for him during the long weeks ahead. 

Meanwhile, the last few weeks at home have been getting harder and easier at the same time.  The child that I figured would be the most upset and the most affected, Kolbe, because of his sweet sensitive soul, brought home two really bad grades last week – in spelling and vocab, which is completely unfounded. I can hear it is in his voice when he talks to me – he is sad and frustrated.  He is the one that writes letters to God and he addresses them and puts a stamp on the envelopes and drops them in the mailbox.  He is still a snuggy bear.  I try to encourage him, but he gets mad when I call and it is so late my time – “Mom, maybe you should not call us, I want to talk to you, but I worry about you not sleeping,” even though I did not say a word about it.

The rest of my kids talk less and less.  “I am tired of you always telling me to pray mommy, I pray so much and you are still not coming home,” says Anna.  “Mom, I pray a chaplet every day, I am not sure that I can pray any more than that.  Surely God has made up His mind about what He wants to have happen,” says Gabe.  I try to be an example of strength, but I always fail.  They sense my weakness, even without my crying or whining or complaining.  No matter how much I reassure them, they are getting tired of me being gone.

Every time I stop focusing on God, I can hear the little voices in the background.  “This will never work.  You will never leave, your children do not miss you, the planes will be booked, you will be separated and have to bribe people to relinquish seats, your husband hates you for leaving him with all of these children, something will happen and you will be delayed after you get your plane tickets…”  I try to put on this strong face, smile at all the people who stay for a day or two here at the Terrace but I am jealous when they get to leave. The little voices provide a constant chant of everything that could go wrong, the voices threaten to throw me into despair.  And even at the worst of times, I never imagined leaving without him.  But leave I will...tomorrow.  I will will sing in his ear, and kiss his head, and make promises to be back.  Only the Lord knows what is in store, and it is my job to thank Him, and sing His praises, and glorify Him in the joys and in the sorrows.  Sing I will.

mother's heartache

So my Monday started so great - I got word that Henderson beat Rua in the UFC fight!  Somehow an American demolishing a Brazilian in Brazil made me happy.

I woke up all of the way, and woke Benny up for the Embassy appointment.  My driver was right on time, and he got us to the Embassy almost an hour early.  I got through security, got up the hill, waited diligently and prayed and prayed and prayed.  All through my filing appointment, the woman was so kind.  She liked my paperwork, was complimentary of my organization, appreciated how I filled out everything correctly and was such a dear.  She ended the meeting by saying that woman who does the interviews had a dental appointment, but might be able to squeeze me in.  She said she would call me later, and I told her that I would be praying for good news.  She was so sure of my paperwork, she even had me pay the Embassy for the visa.

I went home and laid Benny down for a quick nap - and I joined soon behind him, falling asleep with a rosary in my hand, and an icon of Our Lady of Perpetual Help on my heart.  I woke up about half an hour later, to my phone ringing.  A sweet sweet voice on the other end said, "Allison, your prayers have been answered, your appointment is at 2:30."  I cried I was so happy - tears of pure joy.  I will be coming home on Wednesday.

It never crossed my mind that something could go horribly wrong.  I mean, last night, I blogged about the two options in my mind, an interview appointment on this Wednesday, or an interview appointment net Wednesday.  My worry was never about the case or the file.  The judge had remarked how clean it was, cut and dry.  My whole process has been long, but easy.  My records were remarkable, the story is water tight, the paperwork filled out perfectly.

So I get to my 2:30 appointment about half an hour early, but it takes awhile to be seen.  When I go in, the woman introduces herself as the vice consulate.  She immediately starts grilling me on questions about dates.

When was he abandon?  
          The police officer guessed and said that he looked around 4 months of age because the size of his head.
So why was his birth certificate given a date 1 month before he was reported and not 4?  
          I am not sure, something to do with how small he was and the fact that he was not growing.
So who said that Father was the guardian?
          The police and the child office told the judge that their offices are over run, they have no resources, so they told Father to care for the child while they look for his family.  Meanwhile Michael was sick, needed to be bottle fed, needed medical care, so Father went to the Sisters that run the hospital and asked them to care for him, and help him with his may medical issues.  He has asthma, seizures, has had malaria 4 times, the last time he was in a coma.  He was small, sickly looking, frail thin legs, a very over-sized cranium.
So really, Father abandon him with some nuns, and the nuns should have been granted a guardianship order?
          Father did what he felt was right.  And he wanted the child with him, but he is a priest, not a doctor.
Yes, but Father was told to care for him, and he did not.  The hospital cared for him.
          Yes, but Father paid the hospital what he could, and got him out of the hospital when he was healthy.
So why did Father wait to so long to seek an official guardianship order?
          He had no idea that he needed an official order.  He had a letter from the police saying to care for him.  Any person with no experience in the adoption field would not know to do otherwise.  I am a sure part of it was because the police were actively looking for family and hoping family would come forth.  Part of it had to do with ow sickly and small and under developed he was, and that he kept getting sick, over and over.  It was not until he started the adoption process for Michael that he found out that a police letter was not good enough.
Why did he decide to put Michael up for adoption?
          He started considering the process when he realized that Michael had many serious health concerns, ones that he could not address as a priest.  Michael will need some very serious speech therapy, he will need eegs and ekgs to check his seizures and check the heart to make sure that what appears to be a breathing issue is not a heart issue, make sure his speech issue is not more of a hearing issue even though he seems to hear ok.  Asthma attacks can kill a child in the village.  He is a priest, and cannot be a father or meet the physical needs he has.  He is moved all over the place and knew that Michael deserves a family, a mom and dad who will love him and take of care him.
OK.  My problem is this.  Michael Ssenfuma did not have authority to place him in a hospital.  He did not immediately get a court order (which most orphanages don't even get until Americans pay for one because they are expensive and time consuming).  I did not like the police letter, because it was a stamped and sealed letter, not an actual court document (even though the courts accepted it as a valid appointment of guardianship).  These are my red flags, and there are too many for me to accept your case.  I am sending it to Nairobi.
          Is there anything I can do, bring in, people you could talk to, the police or child office in Masaka?
Everything I wanted should have been in the file, but it was not.  You will not be receiving an additional appointment at the embassy until much later, so you will have no chance to drop anything off to me.  The only thing that you can do is leave.
          What do you mean, when do I come back?
The file will be sent in almost two weeks to Nairobi.  It takes a week to get there.  Then they review it.  It could take 30 days to review.  Then they say, "Yes, no or maybe."  If there is a maybe, you would fly from the US to Nairobi to meet with them and answer their questions and give whatever evidence they ask for.  Then they will say yes or no.  The process is a  minimum of 2 months.  
           And then I come back here?
You go home, and  you do not speak to us until the Embassy in Nairobi forwards us your file with their decision.
          (Totally in shock) So what do I do now?
She gives me this look like I am a total moron, rolls her eyes and says, "You leave my office and go home and wait."
          What am I supposed to do with my child?
Well, my job is to approve your file if I believe that you are his parent, and you received guardianship legally without question.  I do not believe that Michael Ssenfuma did what he was supposed to do 3 years ago to even have the authority to seek medical treatment, and it took two years ago to receive guardianship legally, which means in the US, we would question the validity of your legal guardianship.  He might have eventually received guardianship and the judge in Uganda might have accept that, but I question it.  So yes you are his mother, but you cannot bring him home until the heads in Nairobi say so.  So you do whatever necessary.

I took Michael's handed and led him out of the building and to the van in quite a daze.  I call the Ugandan lawyer who says he will send a letter to go with the file.  The problem is that some US citizen who has never been through the process or lived in a village, or seen the way that Ugandan paperwork is done is making decisions for American processes based on US standards.  This is a huge problem.

I called Father to explain.  We both were upset that this was my own government ruining this for me.  There are cheaper easier ways to get a child in the United States.  Kids disappear all of the time.  Had I wanted a child and was desperate and a psycho, I could have gotten one.  But it is when you try and be good, and responsible and moral, that you get put through the ringer by your own government.  Father says that the battle belongs to God and that no weapon formed against us shall prosper. Amen.

I called the lawyer, who said that it could take several months.  I looked up online, and read cases that were between 2 and 8 months.

I called my agency back home and they began calling lawyers who deal with Nairobi to ask for pointers and time expectations, and more.

It wasn't until I talked to Paul, that reality struck.  I will be leaving my child in Uganda, and I will go home with a broken heart and empty hands, and I will wait.  What will I tell my children - that Uganda gave us a child, and their very own government is screwing us over because some bureaucratic red tape signed off on by a woman that knows nothing about the Ugandan process/procedure/and more?

I called my mom who sobbed along with me.

The funny thing is that I have been correct for 6 months.  6 months ago, I had told my adoption counselor in Birmingham that I would leave the week of March 25th, the week of my consecration.  She laughed.  I told her again about a month before I left.  I told her that God told me that I would leave Uganda the week of the 25th.  "Well, I hope you are prepared for not leaving the week of the 25th."  I laughed.  I was confident.  I just knew she was wrong.

I never knew though, that it being Lent, and the week of me devoting my whole being yet again to Our Lady, casting myself at her feet, meant that I would suffer and that I would in fact leave - but without my child.  I would leave as a mom who abandon her child, for God knows how long.  I know that Blessed Mother does not wish me to suffer this pain, but that she is using this suffering to do great things.

I will spend the next day or two somehow preparing Benny for my absence.  I will need to find a caregiver for him, train them on how to use his nebulizer, explain his ring worm creams, buy enough clothes and diapers to last him a good while.  I will wire money over to pay her for his care, and food, and supplies and for her transportation and more.  This poor little man has been through so much, and now at my hand he will be caused more pain and confusion and sadness.

I accept God's will.  I thank him for the suffering and the cross.  I put all of this into the hands of my beautiful Mother, and I have complete faith and confidence that she will guide my heart, and protect Benny and guide my family and until this situation is redeemed, I will try and shine with the Light of Christ.  I will bow humbly at His feet and beg for mercy for my family and the poor impressionable soul.  I will beg that Benny does not fall further behind, that his soul and his health and his development are not broken even more by these problems.  I have faith that God is in control, and that He will provide the protection over Benny and the strength I need to go home and care for my other children.

That will not keep me from sobbing, and my heart from breaking, and my mind from spinning.  I wish I had someone here, to talk me through it, comfort me, guide me in all of my irrationality.  But I don't, another gift from my loving Father - the lesson of mortification and independence - on Him alone I shall depend.

Sunday

Sunday, the 23rd

I started my morning off wrong, kind of.  I went into the kitchen to put a bottle away (they recycle all of the coke bottles and the bottling company literally just reuses the same bottle.  I have had ones with dates from 2001 to 2013 already this trip.)  And upon entering the kitchen, I was shocked by the bugs, the smell of old frying oil, and the multiple bottles of mayonnaise, and various other spreads, open, and obviously old, just sitting on the counter.  I did a mental check of what I have been eating.  They warned me to eat only things that were boiled, fried or very very, very, steamed.  Don’t eat it if it was fresh and not peel-able (so no lettuce, cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower, etc).  They wash it in the same water that is in the tanks.  Ack. 

I lost my appetite for the day, maybe the rest of my time here.  I studied over the menu in my head – I am left with spring rolls and french fries maybe – nothing with cheese or creams or spreads.  I know that the refrigeration here is poor.  When the power goes out, it is out – for 10 minutes to 20 hours+ hours to days even, but it always shocks me when I see people eating meats and things without question.  I was most disgusted about the mayo, I hate mayo anyway, but maybe they make it without eggs here?  And I have seen eggs, sitting out for hours and hours and hours here, and people do not seem to die…right?

I sit on my bed and spin my fake wedding ring around on my finger.  I was told ‘no expensive jewelry’, and most married Ugandans do not even wear a simple band.  So I shopped around on Amazon.com and found a silver band with woven Celtic designs.  I then found a silver band that had the phrase, “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine” on the inside. For $20, I bought both, and settled on the plain one when they arrived.

I am not sure why I chose the one with the saying in it – I had kind of thought it enduring.  I had imagined Paul saying those words to me.  The inside of his textured gold band when we got married said “I heart you.” Which is what we always had said to each other.  I am not sure the last time I used that phrase, but it seemed fun and playful in college and it stuck for awhile.  I had considered that I would need a little inspiration while I was in Uganda, and that maybe when I was all alone, I would sit and stare at the ring, and know, by its very presence that I was not alone.  This was obviously a fallacy on my part.  Now I sit and think that this ring would be perfect for a woman who took her vows and wanted a ring that serves as a reminder that she is married the Christ forever.

Paul’s wedding band with his saying has come and gone, and then made an appearance again, but I am not sure where it is now.  Anna and Matt went through a phase of taking Paul’s wedding rings off of the bathroom counter when he was in the shower.  I would just buy him another one, different kinds of silver, white gold, tungsten, whatever.  And sure enough, they would disappear after a week or so.  At one point, I had re-found 3 of them in different rooms of the house.  And soon as the rings disappearing started, it stopped again. He keeps the spare rings in the center drawer in our bathroom, just in case one disappears again.  Maybe I will put this band in that drawer when I get home.

I had woken up to a splitting headache and the room was spinning on a tilt.  I imagine now, that if I am over my virus, then it must have something to do with my 4 bulging disks in my very lower back, and the 4” thick mattress that is probably 15 years old.  You can feel every wood slat beneath it, so you try to position the tip of your hip bone accordingly in the gaps when you are on your side.  And if you are on your back, you wedge your shoulder blades in between slats to remove as many pressure points as possible.  I have it down to a science, but when I am really tired, I am all over the place, and then I wake up a bit and shift until the pressure points are gone.

The same thing goes when I am typing.  Or really any time we are in the room.  There is a tiny desk, no wider than my laptop and it is not sturdy, not made for real work to be done at it – it holds an alarm clock and a water bottle and that is about it.  The only place to fold laundry, sit, work, read, play, whatever, is on the bed.  I start writing the blog sitting up, with my back pressed against the back board, and then flat on my back with the lap top on my knees, and then on my side propped on my elbow, and then on my stomach while doing my back stretches.  The bed is very short, and only comes up to halfway between my knee and ankle, which really creeps me out at night with a rat that comes in and out whenever it wants, and mosquitoes and everything else, but during the day when you do not want to take your shoes off, it is perfect.  See, there is a plus side to everything. 

As an added bonus, to let the breeze in through during the day, I will leave the door open.  If the breeze blows too hard, it opens the door all of the way, and then it bounces off of my feet and shuts again.  The room might be fine without the doors open for breeze, because there is a 4 inch gap at the bottom, and there are openings in between the slats on the door itself – you can literally see strips of light, right through the door.  But I do like a nice breeze to blow in once in awhile – it clears my mind.

 

I think about going home and wonder how my back will survive carrying a 3 year old all around the airport, but I know that God provides.  I dream about going to my PT but I would hate to see that disappointed look on his face when he sees how my back is.  He tried to warn me to do my stretches and stuff, but the sleeping was a big thing for and obviously the situation is not ideal. I dream of being in traction and having my spinal column stretched.  There are few things that make me as excited as that.  Maybe while Benny is at Baptist’s speech therapy center, I can sneak over and get stretched and have an ultrasound treatment and that deep tissue shock thing!?!?  OMG.  Whoever came up with that was a genius.  I beg him to turn it up the electricity as high as possible knowing how great it will feel when it is done.  My PT is the absolute best.  How weird are you when you start dreaming of where you get to go when you get home?!?

Last week when I was trying to wash my hair, I imagined my hair dresser’s face when she saw how messed up my hair was.  Rachel at Garbo’s is the best, I have followed her for 4 years, and she does the best Brazilian Keratin treatments. Before I left, she told me of some new one that is getting certified in, and I can’t wait to go home and have straight hair again.  Between swamp water and the heat and sweat – my hair has been a fro of waves for weeks and it smells.  I use ‘It’s a 10’ which helps with the smell a little, but the shampoo is yucky that I bought here, but it was the cheapest one, and was almost $15 for a tiny bottle, so I am stuck using it. 

My hair sticks out everywhere, like a loose spiral perm.  I try to keep it in braids, especially at night to keep it from getting really tangled, but it does not help much.  Ugandans response to my hair is amusing.  They ask to touch it, they pulls the braids, play with the bristly ends of the braid, grab handfuls of my hair when it is not in braids.  Benny likes it when I flip it over my face, or toss it over my head, sometimes he tries to hide in it.  They comment on how it matches my eyebrows and the hair on my arms.  They tell me that I could weave it and use it as fishing line. 

So Sunday started slow as I sat and pondered all of these things while Benny played cars on the floor.  Benny did not pull any crazy bathroom stunts, but he did pour his water bottle all over his chair when I would not let him get out of his seat, and he refused to each his breakfast.  I brought him back to the room and put him in the corner with his bowl of breakfast and a water bottle and told him that we would play soccer when he was done eating.  He has demolished the water bottle and crumbled and smashed his food to pieces, but there he sits, happy as a clam.

The rest of the day was more of the same….me praying to go home, Benny praying that I let him out of the room.  I really do not want to let him play outside because of all of the rain last night, and the mud in the grass, but I have little choice – even I would rather go insane outside rather than in.  I am nervous about tomorrow and I know that God’s Will will be done, and I am trying to not think about it, but it is crazy to maintain focus and balance and keep the emotions of a very fallen creature aligned to the acceptance of God’s Will.

Notes from my prayer journal:  I pray that I do not lose hope tomorrow. I pray that I can be focused on trusting in His Will, and align my emotions to that accordingly.

“Blessed are those who have learned to acclaim you, 

who walk in the light of your presence,

O Lord.”

-Psalm 89:15

Soundtrack song of the day – No Ones Gonna Love You – Band of Horses

Consecration to Jesus through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, Blessed Pope John Paul II, Day 32

The Novena to the Divine Mercy, Day 6

Saturday, the 22nd

I started my morning by wondering if they make 2-day sleeping pills that I could give Benny and I to get us through the weekends…I debated in my mind the efficacy of such an invention, knowing that I would want to use the same invention with Benny whenever it was time to fly home – 9 hours to Amsterdam, 3 hours waiting, 9 hours to Atlanta, 1.5 hours in customs, 3 hours home.  Moms all over the world would sing my praises when traveling long distances.

I got Benny changed, and sent him into the bathroom – and at some point in the middle of the process, he decided to get off of the toilet, use the floor, and then get back on to finish his business.  I spent the next 2 hours sanitizing the bathroom.  For the love of God, I wish I was home, where I could show him how a real toilet work.  Of course, if he pulled a stunt like that at home, I would not have the luxury of a huge drain in the corner of the bathroom to wash everything towards, but somehow the idea of doing this at home was somewhat comforting – at least Paul would be there to laugh at me, and the kids would make mad faces at Benny and tell him how to do it correctly.  Of course I had to take a shower after that, wearing my shoes because the Good Lord knows what might be on me or the floor.  I promptly cover myself in hand sanitizer, and get re-dressed for the day.

It takes about two hours to access blogspot, and upload 1 blog without pictures.  I was determined to sit and get Thursday and Friday up, so Benny and I sat in the living room area and got to work.  However, Benny was not so pleased with my decision to be inside, but the closer you are to the wireless router, the fast and better your connection was.  He started to creep towards the door, and when one of the workers, Harriett, went outside, he made his escape.  I ran to put my tablet away in his absence, and then went outside to get him.  He heard me and turned around and turned to Harriett and started crying and put his hands up, like maybe she would rescue him.  She completely ignored him, thank God.  But this is the problem with living in one place for too long that is not permanent, where people let him get away with whatever he wants.

All of this just makes me upset and frustrated.  I dream about what he will be like at home, with boundaries, and no interference from well meaning Ugandans ruining my parenting efforts.  The bonding books say to keep him close, be his only source of food, blah blah blah.  But when you have three places that you are confined to – the bedroom, the dining room, and the backyard, you are kind of stuck to the people in those places.  Obviously, in our bedroom, that is fine – but these are tiny quarters not suitable for a 3 year old.  The other 2 harbor threats to the bonding process, and he is very used to people coming in going out of his life and making do with whatever constants remain longer than the others. 

I have really had to start cracking down on their interfering.  For instance, if we are eating dinner, and he does not want to eat something, he gets down and tries to wander around r he whines and falls to the floor and starts rolling around laughing, and everyone else laughs at him, which just encourages him.  I tell him to sit, and he whines, and the waiters talk to him.  I put him in his seat, and they come over and goof off with him, and when they walk away, he tries to follow.  I feel like I am constantly saying, “Do this, do that, yes, no, eat, sit,” and that everyone else is like “play, goof off, you are so cute, so funny, ha haha.”  Maybe they should be the ones cleaning up his mess all over the bathroom floor almost every single day for the past week.  Maybe if I showed them pictures of his mess, he would be less cute and playful.

To make matters worse, we are sure that he has giardia.  We spent all of that time and money getting him dewormed, but first chance he gets, he is drinking the shower water.  Hello?!?  The shower water is from a huge black tank in the back yard, from rain that came off of the roof.  You CANNOT drink it.  PERIOD.  Shower water smells, sink water smells, my hair smells.  I am bathing in glorified swamp water.  Since one of his long showers about two weeks ago, he has had diarrhea every day at least once.  He won’t eat stuff he used to.  You couple his intestines, with his desire to only eat pineapple and watermelon and mango and you can see why his stomach is so messed up. 

You can give someone antibiotics for giardia but it only shortens the lifespan of the parasites.  You cannot spread giardia if you are washing your hands after changing him. You will not catch it either.  So truly, there is no point in giving him anything now, if he will continue to drink water when he is in the shower.  And I have yelled at him for it, but what am I supposed to do, spank him?  As soon as I leave and wait outside the door so that I do not get soaked, he will do it anyway.  Even when I get out of the shower, I still cover myself in hand sanitizer.  I wash my face with face wipes, I brush my teeth with a bottle of water, I use Clorox wipes on the sinks and toilet every time he is done. 

I did get a chance to talk to my sister Sarah and both of my parents today which was nice – and I talked to all of the kids as well.  It is really hard to make this happen – conversations with the kids are hard to manage.  If I want to call them at 6 AM, I fight get three of four minutes per kid, and I set my alarm on my tablet to tell me when it is 2 PM, because I am liable to miss it.  If I want to talk to them at the end of their day, when they are home after baseball and streaks, then I have to stay up until 3 or 4 AM – which is not hard when I am having nightmares, but normally around 4, I have an easier time falling asleep.  I have found that Saturdays at 5 PM my time, when it is 9 AM their time, is a decent time to call them….unless they have soccer, which is every weekend except the weekends that start and stop Spring Break.  Yay me.

I fell asleep easily, in the middle of a rosary, but woke up 3 different times for torrential downpours and thunder that rolled for minutes at a time with no break.  I got up and moved my suitcases out from under the window.  Our windows have iron bars, but no screens, and the glass window parts are all open and swung out. You have to be outside to shut the windows or have a big long stick to pull them shut with.  The way that the wind was blowing, I was afraid of water being blown in and soaking the bags.  For the rest of the night, I did what I normally do - lay there and read emails, or check facebook and see if my husband is online or watch faithit.com videos or pray, or read my consecration books.  I order more digital books from Sophia Press so I have reading material for the next few weeks that I might be in country.

I cannot even begin to explain how upset I will be in the Embassy says that I will not get a Wednesday appointment.  I would probably start sobbing, right then and there.  I would lose it, I know I will.  It will crush me, no matter how much faith I have that this is God’s will, my faith and acceptance cannot suddenly make me happy that I am here by myself.  Just saying.

Notes from my prayer journal:  I am being tempted to distraction from things back home.  I am being tempted to hate the people that are causing these disruptions back home.  Every second I spend caring or being angry are seconds that I am taking away from Benny, and bonding and focusing on why God sent me here. I keep begging God to focus my heart and mind, when every part of me wants to call down the thunder to put an end to false accusations.  But He always said that persecutions will come, and we will suffer, and that we should not bother with fighting or defending, to pay the price they request and be done with them.  I am not ready to do that, I want to defend myself.  But what can I do?  I am in Africa, with little internet connection.  I can get facebook on a large glorified phone in my room, but have no keyboard, cannot sign in to important accounts because there is no firewall protection here, and more.  What is done is done, but it breaks my Will, which is exactly what God requires of His people to be true followers of Christ.  I am learning.  Baby Steps.

“Those who know your name will trust in you, for you Lord, have never forsaken those who seek you.” 

-Psalm 9:10

Soundtrack song of the day – Broken Bells – the High Road

Consecration to Jesus through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, Blessed Mother Teresa, Day 31

The Novena to the Divine Mercy, Day 5

Friday

Friday the 21st

I keep thinking, maybe I can leave next Friday, maybe I can leave next Friday.  In fact, I was so anxious about not hearing from the Embassy on Wednesday that I must have prayed to keep me focused, for hours.  When the Thursday hours started to tick by, I thought for sure that we would have to deal with Benny’s kind-of-positive TB test before we got out appointment.  At 4 PM, I gave up, and right when I went to email Paul and get upset, there was an email from the Embassy with a Monday morning appointment.  I had told the embassy people before that I almost cry every time I see an email from them, and this time was no different – Monday at 9 AM. Woot-woot.  One step closer.

Being one step closer, made my Friday quite a bit better.  I have been looking forward to Friday all week.  Linda had promised me that we would go to the market so that I can get gifts for the people back home, and for people that have supported us along the way. I was trying to find things that really link Africa to people in Alabama. I also really wanted to find a well-priced drum for Benny Michael, because he drums on everything – tables, chairs, garbage cans, and more.  So this trip was going to be important, and I had it all planned out on paper – 15 Auburn colored necklaces, a drum, a basket, a nativity, headbands, purses, soccer jerseys.

However once we got to the Friday Market, I was so overwhelmed.  There were sooo many people selling, in a tiny crowded area, with tarps were spread out all over the rocky uneven ground.  And they had a pre-cut path around everything, made from salvaged broken brick, probably from a nearby building, so you had to be really careful where you stepped.  Twice I stepped wrong and a piece of brick jabbed through the side of my sandals and caught the side of my foot – not fun.

I had been doing a pretty good job keeping track of what was for whom, and trying to write it all down, when suddenly I came across a wood carver that had the greatest statues of St. Joseph, St. Francis, crucifixes, Our Lady of Africa, Our Lady of the Rosary, and a ton of wooden nativity sets.  They were primitive, stained a deep dark mahogany color, and were really precious, oh, I wanted them all.  In fact, as soon as I was back at the Terrace I started kicking myself for not getting more.  I should have bought more beads and more statues, and if I am not doing anything again this Friday, I will go back and buy more.  (Let me know if you want me to get something in particular for you.)

I think I made it out of there pretty well, but when I got back to the hotel, I could not find my list, or remember what I was thinking when I started laying everything out on the bed.  I got so frustrated with the whole process that I gave up and packed it all up in the empty suitcase.  I pray that nothing gets broken….maybe if I bought a few more dozen things, it would fill the suitcase better?!?

I try so hard not to hate Fridays, but it is impossible.  I know what the weekend entails, absolutely nothing, and I hate this.  If something is not productive – either in leisure, fun, accomplishing something, finishing something, learning something, I consider it a waste.  Our Lord would say to sit in the silence, is the only time I can find Him, but then I am still accomplishing something.  However, nothing gets accomplished here on the weekend.  Linda’s drivers take advantage of me because I am Catholic and have a baby.  The only places to go are the mall or to a food place, and I did not come with excess money to spend – just enough to get me through and besides, taking Benny out in public is a type of torture right now.  He wants to run around, and play in the fountains, and he gets overwhelmed, and a little stressed, so when it is time to go or do something he does not want to do, like holding hands in a VERY busy parking lot or to cross 5 lanes of traffic, he starts screaming.  This, in turn, sets off a whole new set of problems.

I tried to get a feel from Linda about what she thought about the Embassy.  Is it pretty guaranteed that I get an exit interview for Wednesday?  (nope, nothing is ever guaranteed with the US Embassy in Kampala)  How long are the waits for exit interviews?  (2 days to 2 weeks)  Is it possible that they might do the exit interview on an “untypical” day?  (if they do not have any interviews, they have been known to bump people up, but that is not typical)  I decided that I would not think about it, that I would just keep focused on preparing for Monday.  I will walk in nice and calm, even though we will have to be up very early and Benny might pitch a fit.  I will smile, and be respectful and sweet.  I will not presume anything, I will be focused and cautious, and ask pertinent questions, as needed.

I hate talking to Paul on Fridays.  I call him and he goes through a schedule of everything they are doing, and I get so jealous.  “Wait what, you get to go to soccer games?  Anna scored a goal, she went to her first big girl birthday party, you had Father Daughter, there is no soccer and you get to work on family chores and projects?  The boys are hanging out?  You are going to Costco?  You will be in air conditioning and drink safe water and eat pizza and watch tv and hang out with your awesome kids and play with the dog and and and and???”  My eyes go from blue, to a jealous green, and then when I hang up to a blood shot red, because even though I do not want to cry, I cannot stop the tears.  I just let them fall and I sigh, and accept that my lot is to be here right now, and that I will be home soon enough – even though it does not make it easier, it just invites a sense of resignation.

Every day I wonder what God wants to me accomplish in order to leave.  Maybe he wanted 200 Divine Mercy Chaplets from me.  Maybe He wanted my effort.  Maybe he wants my sacrifices to cure/heal/save someone.  Maybe He wants me to learn patience.  Maybe He wanted me to say something in particular in my blog, and then He will let me go home. We all have a mission, something to accomplish, something great that only you are destined to do.  So what do I need to do in order to be home?  I spot check myself throughout the day.  Am I relying on Him enough, being patient enough, being kind and friendly enough?  Am I focused on His presence inside of me and others enough?  I cannot pretend to know what God has in store for me each day, I can only pray that my will is open to His plan, and that I accept His plan when it is not what I envisioned.  He did not promise happiness, EVER.  He promised only peace.

Notes from my prayer journal:  I need to learn to equate peace with happiness.  If I accept His will, and trust in it, then I will have peace.  That does not mean that everything is roses and butterflies and that I will like it, and that I will be comfortable and physically satisfied.  It means that if I am dying from starvation or cancer or heart disease, and there is nothing left to do to fight against the prognosis, then I accept that there will be a miracle and I will be a testament to his great glory, and if there is no miracle, then I accept that God is using me to suffer and save souls and set an example on how to be full of race and humanity while being totally reliant on Him.  

“Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid.  The Lord the Lord is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation.”

-Isaiah 12:2-3

Soundtrack song of the day – Time is Running Out, Muse

Consecration to Jesus through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, St. Maximilian Kolbe, Day 30

The Novena to the Divine Mercy, Day 4

The Feast of St. Joseph

March 19th (For some reason this is showing up after Thursday, even though I posted it first)

I have always felt sorry for St. Joseph, having a solemnity right after St. Patrick's Day.  It is so much more fun for the average person to have an excuse to get drunk and over eat for something fun like being or not being Irish.  However, celebrating being a devoted father and husband is a little more difficult.  Can't really get drunk to celebrate being the most holy of fathers can you?  You cannot go around wearing green and pinching people in the name of the most devoted husband that ever walked the Earth right? 

So poor St. Joseph kind of gets ignored by the world, except for the devoted Italians, who have adopted this feast day as their own - who eat and drink and pray mightily in the name of the man who loved the two most perfect souls to ever come into creation.  In my family, we celebrate St. Patrick, and both of St. Joseph's 2 solemnities, although I will admit that I do have a hard time making two huge, and vastly different meals, so close together.  This year, in preparing for my absence, I made a gigantic lasagna and baked ziti and meatballs, and put them in the freezer with a beautiful tiramisu, so that my children may honor and celebrate St. Joseph, Spouse of the Blessed Virgin Mary, in fine fashion. 

I also wanted Kolbe Joseph to celebrate one of his 3 feast days.  Lucky duck that one, a feast day for St. Maximilian Kolbe and 2 for St. Joseph.  Paul and I picked saints and angels names for each of my children, pairing up saints feast days to supposed due dates to family members' names that we would like to honor or keep.  I would sit and read saints books for hours in bed while I was pregnant, hoping to find inspiration for my future children.  I did read a baby naming book one time, but the names never instilled the meaning and value and history in my soul like a saint's name could.  In fact, I had a whole list of saints names that we would use...and the only two that we did not were Luke Anthony and Mary Claire - Matthew was a hair away from being Anthony, had it not been for a prolapsed cord and an emergency c-section, I might have not been knocked out so long that my husband had the chance to name him. (He truly is a Matthew Timothy though, so I cannot complain). 

As close as St. Joseph has always been to my heart though, I will admit that I always prayed to him rather selfishly, everything from home sales, to guiding my sweet Kolbe's heart and passion, to guidance over household issues and familial protection.  And although I always saw him as the prefect husband, and protector of families, I have never begged his intercession on behalf of my husband though.  To make matters worse, I cannot even be entirely sure why not.  This notion of praying for your spouse first, before all else is also new to me.   

Normally when I pray, I start with the immediate concerns of the family, then special intentions that I had promised, and then from there, my sweet children and their many necessities, our extended family and then for myself and my husband, almost as a last thought though - "God if you have spare mercy and blessing, after you have reached your hand down upon these other needs, can you please throw a bit of grace upon my husband and I?"  How many prayers I have wasted on the wrong things! 

What I have really been shown, during these last 5 weeks, is that I had the order and necessity all backwards.  One phrase I learned when I moved to the South was, "Happy wife, happy life."  I had never heard this phrase before, but it seemed odd to me.  Women were designed and created to love - their entire being was formed to give and support and sacrifice for life, and to do that is the essence of what "loving" means.  So why should the happy life of a man depend on the emotions of his wife?  What I want to say is that women should feel honored to be of service to their husbands and their children.  What I want to say is that when women love and serve, they embrace the vocation that they were created for and that is truly a beautiful thing which would then delight their souls.   

However, in this fallen creation, too often, men abuse the privilege that an honorable wife affords them.  Too often, men are selfish and controlling and do not extol the love or command the family with a love that is true and genuine and noble.  Look at the divorce rate and the spousal abuse rate, and the child abuse rate around the world.  These numbers speak volumes regarding the pain and suffering that men, women and children face, this side of heaven.  The numbers of families trying hard to make things work, that are trudging through a self-centered society, trying to enforce values and love and morals and rules within a family setting are to be commended.  And it is to anyone who is making an effort in this arena that I focus on now. 

If you want to change your life, to find the happiness that only God can provide, then you need to start focusing on God and asking Him to use you as an instrument of love, to bring others happiness and peace. I have tried my whole life to serve others, and often times, I left God out of it.  But your efforts are futile if they have no basis or foundation in everlasting happiness, right?  And then there were times when all I said was "God, you need to help them," but I left my efforts out of the equation.  God has given us each different gifts, in style and in number, in beauty and in depth.  However, He expects you each to use all of the gifts that He has given you to advance His kingdom and in all other things.  He then expects you to call upon Him for direction, clarity, and support, for He knows that you cannot do anything without Him.  That is how He continually raises up great saints.  He takes the imperfect people who are willing to listen to His Will and to offer up their talents, and He directs them, and aids them for His greater glory.  He calls each of us to be great saints in this manor. 

So the question is, do you want to be married to a man or to a saint?  Will a man love you like a saint?  Will he sacrifice and guide and protect and support like a saint?  Does he have your best interests at heart more than a saint?  If you want to be married to a saint, then you had better start praying for your spouse's vocation first and foremost.  You had better start supporting his vocation in prayer and in deed immediately.  But do not worry, what might seem thankless and fruitless will have a life altering affect on you as well.  St. Monica understood this. St. Joseph was the perfect image of this.  Both of these saints, and hundreds more, understood that their jobs were to support and care for the people that they were bound to - to truly love them in the most biblical of ways.  And in that love and sacrifice and devotion, they found sanctification.    

I want to be a great saint, so I will begin by being the best wife, and the best mother possible.  I will do this by putting my husband's needs at the top of my priority list, supporting him in his sanctification process.  I will aid and mold and shape my children, in character and morals and honor.  I will set a visual example of love and sacrifice for them to witness and learn from first hand.  I will continue to die to myself, for love of their souls.   

Believe me, it will be a long and hard road, especially for someone like me.  I protect my heart first, I have a strong bit of "Cali" in me yet (that is what true Southerners call my very unlady like sarcasm and straightforward nature).  I tend to be wildly passionate - quick to action and righteous anger regardless of what the situaion truly needs.  I lack patience and do not like to give forgiveness if the transgressors have not requested it.  All of these cause me to be separated from my King, and my spouse and my children, and therefore these habits must die. 

These are all things that the fiery skies of Africa seem to be trying to burn out of me.  The Lord knows how I will be tempted to fall back on them 10-12 times a day, but the sanctification process is slow and long and difficult, as is all things of value.  I have certainly learned to call upon great saints to intercede on my husband's behalf.  My prayers are weak and pathetic and much more unfocused compared to those of St. Monica, and it took her almost 20 years to convert her son.  My only hope rests in the constant conversion of my soul- that I grow in love and in holiness, for the sanctification of the souls around me.  Lord, make me an instrument, through which your light shines forth. 

From my prayer journal:  I beseech St. Joseph, the most pure spouse of Our Blessed Mother, to intercede on behalf of all wives, who truly want to become great saints.  Help us to grow in wisdom and patience and faithfulness.  Help guide our thoughts and words and actions.  Show us how to love more purely, for the greater glory of God, in support of our husbands, for the sanctification of their souls and ours. Amen. 

“The Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace”

-          Numbers 6: 25-26

Soundtrack song of the day – Take a Walk, Passion Pit   

Consecration to Jesus through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, Marian Entrustment Part 2, Day 28

The Novena to the Divine Mercy, Day 1 

Thursday March 20th

March 20^th

Satan is jacking with my sleep.  Oh, how would the devil mess with someone’s sleep, don’t you think you are over exaggerating?

So, an example?  I am exhausted, so I lay down, am ready for bed, and a stare up at the ceiling trying to pray.  I notice that the way the housekeeper tid my mosquito net last week looks like a noose.  I fall asleep and see myself tying the mosquito net around my neck and feel myself leaning off of the side of the bed.  I am holding onto the side, trying not to fall, but I have no control, and I start choking.  I wake up trying to scream, but not being able too, and my neck is itchy and feels scratchy from the netting.  I am stronger than his nightmares.

The next night, I go to sleep again, concentrating on the sounds of the wild dogs in the distance barking and fighting with each other.  There is a major police station close by and you can hear sirens all night long.  Suddenly, I have Benny and we are trying to run through the streets, and the sirens are going off, and the air is thick with smoke, and I cannot take in air, and I feeling dizzy, and I am watching people get hacked to death, and the wild dogs are fighting over what remains on the ground.  I wake up sobbing – not because I was scared, but because my heart was breaking at the sight of people being so horrible to each other.

The next night, I am visiting an orphanage with a woman who works for an NGO in town, Brenda.  And it starts to get dark, and I know better than to be out once it gets really dark, especially so far out in the villages without a man and a car.  So Brenda and I are waiting and waiting for our driver, in the orphanage, and we hear a car turn down our road.  Orphanages out in the villages are heavy secured and way off of the main road, as to not advertise their presence to avoid security issues.  Suddenly, the rumbling gets louder and louder and we hear shouts and gun fire, and metal ladders slamming against the compound walls.  The orphanage is under siege.  I am in the room with the babies, the doors are locked, and I am trying to keep them as quiet as possible.  I can hear Brenda screaming in the room of teenagers.  I peak out of the window and see children being dragged out by their hair – wailing and crying and there is nothing I can do. 

The babies’ home is in the very back by the kitchen, and at one point, the kitchen is being raided for food and supplies and I thought someone saw me, and all I can do is pray, but nobody comes back to investigate.  I leave the room at day break, babies screaming everywhere from hunger, and thirst and fear, and everyone is gone.  There are bodies everywhere, but nobody is alive.  My ears are ringing from the constant “pop pop” noise.  The smell of something burning is making me wretch, as thick smoke pours over the compound walls, and I realize that they burned the villagers homes that were near the orphanage.  I have a phone but nobody to call and I have no idea where I am.  I wake up suddenly to run to the bathroom and be sick.

And this is predominantly how my nights have gone.  Even when we were at the Maria Flo, and Paul was here, he said I would moan and grimace and get upset all night long.  Maybe it is because I have no one to wake me that I am remembering them so vividly.  Maybe it is because I am so close to the finish ad I am being tempted in a way that suits my personality.

I like to do stuff.  I try to be sensitive to the souls and hearts around me.  I like to serve.  I normally sleep very little at home 4-5 hours on a week night, depending on the time of year and how busy we are at home, but have been so tired for some reason.  In all of my dreams, I am seeing the worst of humanity, against the weakest of people, and I am stuck watching – unable to protect or defend.  The acts and violence are heart breaking.  More importantly though, this is just one example of how satan will find a way to torment you, keep you from sleep, break down your emotions so that you are weak, tired, not thinking correctly, discouraged and your thoughts are disheveled.  How well do you communicate and focus when you have no sleep?  So when you are upset and discouraged, and need to focus on God for strength and reprieve, how easy is it to do that when your brain and thoughts feel disconnected? 

In order to avoid sleeping at night, I have been downloading whole seasons of shows on my tablet and watching them all straight through.  I may sleep from 4-7 AM, once it begins to get light out.  Then I sleep another 2 hours while Benny is sleeping, which means I have to focus of making him very tired during our outdoor play time to assure that I get 2 hours of sleep.

Which brings up another point.  How easy is it to parent a child who is essentially a large 18 month old, if you are too tired and disheveled to feel patient?  It is NOT easy.  Two days ago, he took off his diaper around 6:30 AM and I did not hear him get up, and I awoke to poop everywhere – the shower, the walls, the floor, him, his face and mouth, his clothes, his sheets.  I wanted to scream, and felt ill, and used 3 packs of Clorox wipes and had him under the shower head for 30 minutes, and then used a half bottle of hand sanitizer, and cut off all of his fingernails as short as I could get them because I was worried about the bacteria trapped underneath.  It was so hard for me to not lose it all day long. 

Every time I really looked at him, all I could picture was him covered in it.  My germ alarm was beyond freaking out.  He wanted to hug me, but I was so disgusted.  I let him, but was gagging the whole time.  The next morning, I caught him right as he had taken off his diaper and was pooping on his backpack that I brought him for the airplane ride.  He loved that backpack, but I had no ay to clean it, so I made him take it out and throw it in the dumpster.  He was so upset, but he seemed completely oblivious to the fact that his actions were not at all appropriate.  I had the waitress translate to him in Lugandan to make sure that he understood every word I was saying.  Her presence also kept my focus and anger in check. 

You take my mornings, and couple them with my nights, and things have not been going well in the whole “spiritual warfare” arena.  I try to focus on other things at night – random tv shows, writing the blog, reading about saints.  I pray, run through my petitions, focusing on their faces in my head and what they are suffering through.  What I am dealing with is easy compared to all of them.  My life is easy at home – I have 5 pretty great children, my husband is amazing, my house fits us, my dog is cute..my problems are #firstworldproblems. 

I took this on out of love for Christ, but there sure has been a night or two when I have woken up from a nightmare or something I have seen while I was trying to fall asleep and thought, “I could leave right now.  Nobody would fault me.  I just need to go home, I can come back and get Michael in a few weeks, or find another family for him.  I CANNOT handle this.”  And then I stare at my wall and say my favorite line ever, “For the sake of His sorrowful passion, have Mercy on us and on the whole world.”

And today, I can look up to the dark gray skies, in the 90 degree heat, and praise God that Benny did not pull another nasty stunt today, and thank Him for His many gifts and the ability to offer up something for someone else.  I can smile and say, “Kids will be kids and thank God for this blessing of Benny.”  I can try to nap deeply so that I have the strength to keep my focus on God’s love, and I maintain a sense of composure, even when every inch of me is saying, “You are so NOT composed, lash out, get angry, you have a right to.”

God supplies the answers, I just have to be strong enough to listen.  I have to go to great lengths to make sure that I am setting myself up for success, and not for failure.  Sleep, rest, get fresh air, pray, focus, concentrate on serving others and minimize stress by accepting God’s will you’re your day…these are the keys to minimizing satan’s ability to jack with you.  Let us focus on protecting our souls from any extra temptation this Lent – this period in the Church calendar is hard enough.

Notes from my prayer journal:  You can only be tempted by things that you care about, things that you put ahead of God.  Great saints have dealt with doubts and fears and worries until they loose themselves from the tis that they had in the material world.  Christ tried to get people to see this in His commands to “leave everything and follow Me.”  Help us to do this today, to relinquish attachments to the world and to the physical things that keep us away from following God with all of our hearts, all of our mind, and all of our strength.

“Now it is God who made us for this very purpose and has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come.”

-2 Corinthians 5:5

Soundtrack song of the day – Crazy Life, Toad the Wet Sprocket

Consecration to Jesus through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, , Day 29

The Novena to the Divine Mercy, Day 2