I had the opportunity to go to Wakisa, a temporary home for young expectant mothers. We walked in during their classes and all the girls moved their chairs into a circle and gave us the seats at the front (So awkward) We introduce ourselves and then say, "We brought you Mangos!" They all cheered, it was pretty cute. I was thinking this was kinda cool, but then the girls began introducing themselves, telling me their name, age and how far along they are in their pregnancy. Suddenly it went from being a 'cool' experience, to the hardest in my life. The majority were my age. As I sat watching these 20 girls stand I was really touche. I felt guilty for complaining about how 'hard' my life in Uganda has sometimes been, seeing these girls the same age as myself having to carry a burden that I can't even comprehend!
I brought my guitar and Emma and I decided to sing "The Climb" by Miley Cyrus to them. It started out with just us singing and was pretty great, the lyrics were just perfect. But then we decided to teach them the chorus. Words fail to describe the serene spirit that washed over that room when we all sang the chorus, it was like angels singing from heaven, no joke. Maybe it was just me because I tend to feel more emotions with music, but all I can say is that was definitely one of my favourite moments in Uganda. I realized the power music has. The language barrier is lifted, because music doesn't need words to speak. All our differences fled as we sang together, united through some feeling I'm incapable of describing.
Right afterwards we went to Sanyus, but I just couldn't get my mind off what I'd just experienced. My Mom and Sister didn't talk much about our experience there afterwards, and I don't think they were as effected as myself. I think being younger and seeing the challenges girl so alike me are facing was just a really hard concept to accept. But that's where Christlike love comes in.
It's so easy to love people here - aside from the guys, it's really easy to hate them :) But my heart has never been so full with love since moving to Uganda. For instance, newborn babies have a tendency to look rather strange and deformed - partly because they're basically a bag of jello waiting to take shape. So I sometimes hold these new babies at Sanyus and just think, "Wow. That face!" But one little girl arrived, from Wakisa. Her Mom was 12 years old with some mental illness and had been raped by a 42 year old man - you can see why it's hard to love men here when they're as vial as this. Anyways, Hope is her baby. She was recommended to Sanyus because obviously her Mom couldn't take care of her. She's a month premature and extremely small! So I went into the Isolation room to hold her. My first thought was, "Now you're not very cute are you?" But then as I held for another moment my thoughts completely changed. My heart was exploding with love for this little girl, and as I rocked her in my arms the reality this girl is going to grow up in sunk deep into me. Here she is just days old and already she's alone. There is no one here to kiss her forehead, to hold her when she cries, to sing her a lullaby, to take a million pictures of her and put them in photo albums. She doesn't have anyone...and she's only days old. It's insane how touching these random moments can be. But I can say in full confidence that I know understand what Christlike love really is. It's loving someone unconditional, despite what they're going through or who they are. When I saw those girls at Wakisa I instantly loved them. I don't look at people and judge them as quick as before. No, I just love them. I've learned it's important to love everyone despite their backgrounds. But more importantly, after playing that song at Wakisa I realized how AWESOME it feels to do what you love for the people you love. To use your passion and talents to benefit the lives of others. And that's exactly what I'm doing. And perhaps that's the reason I've stayed here for so long. Not because everyday is an epic adventure, but because when I'm serving these people I get as feeling I've never known anywhere else.
