"Where are You in all of this?"

After my trip to Uganda, I found myself asking God, "Where are you in all of this? Where are you in the suffering of Northern Uganda? Where were you in this war? In the evil that is the LRA? Where are you in everything I saw? In the stories the children told me? Show me where you are in all of this, Lord. Please."

I've always believed that everything happens for a reason. That chance doesn't really exist. That good always comes out of the bad. that important lessons are learned from the mistakes we make. that life happens in a purposeful way.

But I'm having trouble accepting my theory right now. After seeing the suffering and destruction caused by the LRA in Northern Uganda. I can't agree with my previous opinion--that God plans everything out. That He knows what will happen before it happens. Because He planned it that way.

Because that would mean God created this war in Uganda. That He purposefully allowed the LRA to abduct thousands of children in Northern Uganda to be their soldiers and sex slaves. That He knew Joseph Kony would be responsible for all of these deaths, but He didn't stop him from doing it all. That He knew he would force children to kill their parents and boil and eat their flesh. That he would force abducted girls to be "wives" to higher ranked male soldiers. That girls would be raped as young as three years old, and become mothers as young as ten or twelve, when they themselves are still children. That a huge percent of Northern Ugandans would become displaced, their villages destroyed and houses burnt down. That thousands of children would be orphaned. And that kids would be forced to become brainwashed killers.

If He knew all of that before it happened, why would He have let it take place? If everything is part of God's plan, why would He create this suffering and mass destruction?

That's not something my God would do. My god SAVES. RESCUES. REDEEMS.

And yes, there are good things that have come out of Northern Uganda's suffering. There is a strength in the orphaned and displaced children I met that is indescribable. Hope that is immeasurable. Faith incomparable. And praise and joy in the Lord that is unimaginable considering all they have been through. Their suffering has brought them to desperation for the Lord, and has caused them to be more dedicated and on fire for Him than I have ever witnessed. These children dream of peace in Uganda. And they are determined to grow up and create it. To bring peace, love, and hope to their communities. To their nation. To their region.

These are obviously positive outcomes. What could be better than coming to know, depend on, and love the Lord so deeply? They may be orphaned, but they have their heavenly Father and have a relationship with Him unlike anybody's relationship with their earthly fathers.

But I can't believe that God planned for this war to  happen. For these children to be abducted and forced to fight and cause destruction...just so these positive outcomes would occur.

Instead, I've decided there must be some things God can't control. Sometimes...evil happens. We live in a fallen world, and we have free will as human beings. Though we are all tempted by evil, only a few people succumb to it at the drastic level that Joseph Kony has. God didn't create Kony to start a war that would devastate Uganda and Congo. This war was not His plan for Eastern Africa.

But that doesn't mean our God leaves destruction after pure evil causes it.

No.

Our God redeems.

I've realized that's the key to understanding how God mixes with all this suffering, or where He is in the middle of it all. He's a redeemer. He doesn't plan evil things to happen to us. Like natural disasters, wars, and accidents that cause death and destruction. But He is right there in the middle of it. Doing everything He can to build, mold, and strengthen us. To make good out of evil. To transform hardship into strength and growth.

Evil does exist in this fallen world. And as humans, we have the free will to succumb to it. That doesn't mean God plans for us to or wants us to. I'm sure it absolutely breaks His heart every time He watches one of His children fall to Satan. And I'm sure it kills Him to watch the ripple of suffering it causes for others. For the world as a whole.

But for the first time, I think I understand the answer to the question most nonbelievers struggle with--If there's a God, why is there so much suffering in the world? Where is God in all of this?

He's not causing the suffering. Or planning it out. Just so a few good things come out of it. Maybe the small hardships we go through, such as breakups or disappointments. But not the big things. Like war and natural disasters. Those are brought about by the evil that truly exists in this world. But where is God?

Redeeming.

Taking our suffering and pain and transforming it into growth and strength. Shaping us. Growing us. Molding us. Recreating us to be more like Him.

He redeems.

Thank you Africa, for reminding me of the true heart of our God. That He is a redeemer. And for teaching me how to answer that all too common question we all get asked by those who have trouble believing.

Evil exists. There is nothing we can do about that. But if we let Him, we have a God who will turn our every disaster, devastation, pain, and suffering into beauty. Strength. Growth. No matter how deep the wound or how massive the destruction...

Our...

God...

REDEEMS.

Learning to wait...

How do we wait...patiently?

It's a question we ask ourselves every day. About everything. As humans, patience just doesn't come naturally. Maybe it used to, but it certainly doesn't now. Not in a world where everything is instantaneously accessible. Right at your fingertips. Thanks to technology, we aren't trained to wait well anymore. We have iPhone apps that allow us to order our Chipotle burrito while we are driving to Chipotle. Because we can't wait in the two minute line, or take the five minutes it takes to order and let them make it once we get there. We have Netflix, which lets us rent a movie by clicking a button in order to avoid the five minute drive to the video store. Because we can video chat with our friends who live accross the country, or all the way around the world, we don't have to wait excitedly to see them after a long time apart. I could go on and on. But you know how advanced technology is. How it impacts your life. And how it allows you to avoid the ever dreaded task of waiting.

But we also live in a world, where we encounter waiting every day. I don't mean the type of waiting that consists of waiting in line at an overcrowded DMV, or waiting for a server at an understaffed restaurant to bring you the bill after dinner. Not those little moments in life when we lose our patience and get agitated about a few extra minutes that we interpret as inefficient. Wasteful. Unnecessary.

No...I mean waiting of the heart. The type of waiting we experience over long periods of time. The type that consumes our soul and every ounce of our being. The waiting that rocks our world. Or the waiting for something to rock our world.

We live in a world that emphasizes quick fixes. Easy access. Efficiency. And it doesn't prepare us for the big waits in our life. It tells us that we shouldn't have to wait. That we're too important to wait. Or that waiting is for people who have time for that. But that we are not one of those people.

As a result, we are unprepared when we encounter those situations that require our hearts to settle in uncertainty. To accept that now is not the time. That we don't know when exactly that time will come. Or how we will even know that time has arrived. We grow beyond uncomfortable when we enter these circumstances. We shake to our core. Wondering how we can avoid the waiting. What type of quick fixes we can use as a solution. How to fast forward the waiting period and get there just a little bit faster. Or we complain obsessively about the pain of waiting. So much that we make that period of life go by even slower than it naturally would.

Some of us wait for answers. What am I supposed to do in life? What career should I pursue? What employer will hire me? Where will I move?

Some of us wait for miracles. Those who have loved ones that have been diagnosed with cancer wait for it to be gone. Wondering how long they can continue to fight it. How long it will take to defeat it. Married couples who have tried to get pregnant over and over with no success wait to have their own children. Wondering if they will ever get to start a family. Or how much time they have left to try.

Some of us wait to start living the life we know we're meant to live. Many can't afford the career they really want, and so they stay in a job they hate until they have saved up the money they need to leave it. For the job that allows them to use their passions. For the job that allows them to make a difference in the world.

Some of us wait for those we care about to stop disappointing us. To stop hurting us. To finally follow through. To be there. To be the person we know they are capable of being. Maybe its overcoming an addiction. Returning to be present in our lives after abandoning us. Finally keeping promises that have forever been broken.  Loving us in the way we have always loved them...unconditionally. Accepting us for who we are. Or just showing an interest in coming to know our real hearts.

Tons of us wait for love. Wondering if we'll ever find that person we are meant to share the rest of our life with. Knowing that we were not meant to live it alone. Watching everyone around us seemingly find their soul mate, while we are left...alone.

There are so many things that cause our hearts to be left in a place of waiting. That force our souls to long for whatever it is we're waiting on. And there's a very simple reason: the world doesn't run on our time. It runs on God's. We may think we know when everything should happen. The right time for the right plans. When we're ready for that next step in life. As humans, we have this tendency to think we know it all. But...we don't. Only He does.

In those times of waiting...the ones that create intense longing for whatever it is we are waiting for...we grow more than any other time in life. God does tremendous work in our hearts while we wait. What we see as "waiting," God sees as something entirely different. We just can't see what He's doing until it's done. Maybe not even for years. Until we look back and make sense of it all. Because everything He's working on inside of us is beautifully planned out. Done on purpose. At the perfect time. In the perfect way.

You see, when we wait...we grow.

In strength.
In character.
In heart.
In faith.

We're completely blind to it most of the time. Because we're in the middle of it. And because our minds are too focused on that thing we think we need (which we might, but we might not) that we're waiting for. Our sights are on the future, which makes us think we're waiting. But if we would live more in the present, our eyes might be more open to seeing the amazing benefits of "waiting."

When you have to wait, you learn things about yourself. Your strengths and weaknesses. Your passions and heartcries. Your wounds. Why that thing you're waiting for means so much to you. And when you wait, you learn to rely on God. You start to realize that you can't fast forward through the waiting and have those desires handed to you. You have to push through the storm to get to the rainbow so to speak. And in that time, God is right there waiting with you. Working in you. Waiting reminds us that we are only human. Life is not in our hands. You learn to trust His way and His timing. You learn how to pray. How to cry out to Him in expression of your longings. How to go to Him for comfort when the waiting brings you to discouragement and pain.

We call it waiting...But I doubt God would call it that. Because, while we may see ourselves as sitting still in anticipation for something yet to come...God is busy at work inside us, bringing about enormous change. We may be resting during that period. But God certainly is not. He is moving. Doing more than we will ever know.

My Best Friend, Scovia

Her name is Scovia. She was the first child at Village of Hope to introduce herself to me. She said hello, and I asked her what her name was.

"Scovia," she said.

"What a beautiful name." I asked her how old she was, and she replied 14.

And then she said, "I would like to become your best friend."

At first, I couldn't understand what she was saying. So I asked her to repeat what she said.

"I want to be your best friend."

I told her I would love to be her best friend. She smiled, and I gave her a hug.

"What do you want to be when you grow up, Scovia?" I asked.

"I would like to be a social worker," she said.

"And why is that?"

"Because, I want to give hope to children in Uganda."

She said it just like that. Bold and profound. Very serious. Aware of her dream, and determined to make it reality.

She was a beautiful girl with a beautiful heart. And beautiful dreams. I had to leave to finish our tour of the village, but I promised her that we would get to know each other better soon. And I took her picture before I left.

This is the picture I took of Scovia right after I met her.

The next day I saw her again. I waved and smiled as we were leading an activity.

Then in the early evening, the children performed their welcome dances for us. There is NOTHING like African dancing. The children are all so good. So rhythmic. So talented. They dance beautifully. From the soul. With passion and life.

During one of the dances, a lot of the girls on our team got up to join the children. I stayed back to take pictures of them dancing with the kids. But my heart wanted to dance to the beat of the African drums. So, I went up to join. Scovia found me immediately. It was a partner dance, and she wanted to dance with me.

I asked her how to do the dance, and she tried her best to teach me. I kept telling her, "I'm not very good at this," which was obviously true. But she just said, "No, no, you are doing good!" Another girl came up to me and tied a piece of folded fabric around my waist. The girls fold the beautiful African fabric around their waists before their dancing to emphasize the way they shake their hips. And boy, can they shake their hips! My attempt was utterly embaressing.

Before we danced, Scovia said to me, "I have a letter for you." Again, I had to ask her to repeat what she said, but once she did I understood. She had written me a letter. I knew right then that we had a very special connection and that I would never forget her. I thanked her and told her I would get it from her later that day and write her a letter back. I gave her a big hug.

Then it was time for the two of us to go up in front of everyone and do our partner dance. The way it works is that two girls go up at a time, while everyone else waits in a line behind them. When the pair goes up, they stand by the boys who are drumming and face each other. They do one dance for about twenty seconds, maybe less, which basically requires shaking your booty (not that that's what they would call it!) And then a girl blows a whistle to tell them to switch directions and face the line of girls waiting for their turn. This time, they do another short dance, where they shake their hips side to side as if hoola hooping. And then the girl blows the whistle again, and the pair returns to the back of the line.

I was of course awful in my attempt at the dance, but it was so much fun. I shook my hips with all I had. The girls were absolutely cracking up at my shaking my very white butt. They loved my embaressing attempt at their cultural dance. And loved laughing at it even more.

I felt so alive when I was dancing with Scovia. I rejected all of those feelings of being scared, nervous, or not good enough. I was not embarrassed. I just danced. I danced with everything I had. I felt more alive than I can ever remember feeling before. I loved every second of it.

The next day, Scovia handed me the letter she wrote me. It was folded up into a small square. I opened it up, and saw a page of lined paper filled with red writing. This is what it said (there was no punctuation in the actual letter, but I added it to help it read easier):

Hello my best friend,

I am Scovia who would like to be your best friend, and I know that God will make us to be friends forever. And I know that if you go back to America we will be praying for each other. And I know that God have special plan for your feature (future) and God do to I too. And he love you so much and I love you too. I will never forget you in my heart, and I know that if you go back to America, you will still come back and see me again. And I request you to send my greeting to your family and say to them that I love them so much. May God bless you. Thank you.

With much love,

Scovia Akello

I don't know her whole story. I didn't pry her to find out. I do know that Scovia was one of the original fifty children who lived in a safehouse before coming to Village of Hope. This was at least a year ago, meaning that she was only 13 then. And even younger when she was a child soldier. And even younger when she was abducted. She has no family. The other children and the house mothers at Village of Hope are her family. God is her family.

I wrote Scovia a letter, too. I gave it to her our last evening at the village. That night she was very sad. So I asked her if she wanted to come talk with me in private, just the two of us. She wanted to, and so I found two chairs and we sat down to talk.

When I asked her how she was doing, she replied, "I am sad. I am very sad."

I asked her why.

"Because you are leaving tomorrow. I do not want you to leave. It makes me sad."

I spent the next twenty minutes or so telling Scovia that she should be happy, not sad. I told her that although I was sad to leave her, I was more joyful because I had come to Uganda, to Village of Hope, and met her. Because we were now best friends. I told her that was a reason to be happy, not sad. That we should be joyful and thank God that he brought us together to be friends.


I told her that she inspired me. That I would carry her with me in my heart wherever I go. That she gives me hope and strength. I told her I would never forget her. And that I would be praying for her. And praying that God would bring me back to Village of Hope Uganda so that I could see her again and spend more time with her. And that when that day comes, she will be older and taller. Smarter. In secondary school. Well on her way to becoming the greatest social worker in all of Uganda. Because she is such a strong girl. With such a big heart. And so much hope. I told her she was going to be a leader and a role model in her country. That she would bring hope to so many children in Uganda. I told her to read my letter whenever she gets sad or misses me, and that I would read her letter whenever I felt the same. I took her picture, and promised her I would hang it on my wall next to her letter. So that I could look at them every day. Remember her every day. Pray for her every day.

I promised her I would come back to Uganda, and back to Village of Hope. I generally hate making promises like that in Africa, because the truth is you never know. It's God's plan, not mine. But then, in that moment, I knew that God was going to bring me back to that orphanage to see Scovia again. To encourage her. To learn for her.

And then, I prayed for her. We held hands and I prayed out loud. I don't think I have ever prayed so hard. So strong. So pure. Straight from my heart, out of my mouth, to God. I will never forget that intimate time I spent with Scovia that night.

You see, children like Scovia have been through more than we in America can even imagine. Their strength is undefinable. They have suffered, and God has grown them through that suffering. They are desperate from that suffering, and thus turn to God with every ounce of their heart. They trust Him with their whole life. They don't have parents, and so they really look to God as their Father. They are grateful for everything. They praise Him all the time. In a more beautiful way than we know here. With so much passion and love.

Scovia is a beautiful, special girl. She is strong. She has hope. She is such a true leader and role model for others. She will be Uganda's greatest social worker. And she will bring hope to many children in Uganda. She has a beautiful future ahead of her.

And although she is only 14, she is teaching me what true faith looks like. What true resilience looks like. What true hopes and dreams look like. How to love. How to praise. How to be grateful. How to turn our heartaches into something beautiful. She is my teacher.

She is my new best friend.

And I look forward to the day that I am able to return to Village of Hope Uganda and greet her with a huge hug.

But until then, I will read her letter. Look at her picture. Pray for her. And learn from her.

Scovia and me right before we said goodbye during our last morning at Village of Hope

The Heartbeat of Africa

Children drumming at one of the displacement camps we visited in Gulu

There is nothing quite like an African welcome.Whether it's waking up in the morning to the loud noises of all the hustle and bustle that is an African city. Boda Bodas speeding down the road. Vans honking their horns at them to get out of their way. Music blasting from the shops along the street.

Children getting ready to drum and dance for us. One of the amazing boys drumming was blind. Incredible.

Or entering an African village full of children running up to greet you, while smaller babies hide behind their mothers' legs. Children shaking your hand with the utmost respect as they kneel slightly or take a sort of courtesy. Others laughing in the corner with their friends at their funny looking visitors.

Children at one of the displacement camps in Gulu

 Or even visiting a displacement camp full of war-affected orphans waiting in a line to perform for you. Who have set out a row of seats of honor to show their visitors respect--a hugely important value in this culture. When you are greeted immediately by singing and dancing to African drums by the children. Whose voices sound like angels. Whose dancing is contagious. Whose rhythm is so natural and strong. Children who sing welcome songs, recite memory versus, and dance to the drums. Their spirit is vibrant and alive.

Sweet little girl at the last displacement camp we visited.

No. There is nothing quite like an African welcome. To make you feel warm and at home. To bring a huge smile to your face. To remind you of the resilience, beauty, and kindness that is the spirit of Africa and its people. It is a continent of joy. Yes, many Africans have suffered. Yes, there is plenty of pain and heartache. Poverty and war. Disease and hunger. Yes, there is devastation nearly everywhere you look.

But that is not the spirit of Africa. No. Africa survives all of that and more. And it does not only survive. It is resilient beyond our ability to comprehend. It is joyful. It is vibrantly alive. And more overflowing with God's presence, love and grace than anywhere else in the world I have seen.

Why is Africa so resilient despite their suffering? I'm sure there are plenty of explanations. But what I see is hope--hope in a better future. Faith--faith in God. That he will not forsake them. That he will always provide for them. That He is with them always. Love--love for those who have harmed them. Love for life. Love for God. More love for Him than I have ever seen. Their hearts are full of love. Dreams--dreams of a peaceful and thriving Africa. Praise--praise for God in the midst of suffering. Praise for His faithfulness and His love. Life--they are alive. In a way that we Americans do not know how to be. In a way that is present and lives in the now rather than worrying about the future. Alive with such passion for life and for living it for one purpose: for God.

Children praying at one of the displacement camps in Gulu. They are wearing the Believe t-shirts we gave them.

When I am here, I hear Africa's heartbeat. Its sound mimics that of the African drums. It is bold in how it lives for Jesus. It is steady in how it pushes forward with resilience after pain. It is strong in that it never gives up. And it is powerful in its faith and hope in the Lord and its courage to trust everything in His hands.
Africa's heartbeat is the beat that God meant each of our hearts to have. It teaches me so much every time I am fortunate enough to hear it. It reminds me of the people we were all created to be. Of the community that we should be.

When many think of Africa, they think of devastation, corruption, and un-fixable problems like poverty, war, and disease. When I think of Africa, I think of my teacher. I think of a spirit entirely indestructible. A people so resilient and strong that nothing could possibly beat down their hope or joy. A people who know the Lord so deeply that they don't just say life will get better someday. They believe with every ounce of their hearts that God is there. He is working. And He will lead them through this with His love, grace, and mercy.

When I hear the true heartbeat of Africa, I pray that the rest of the world would hear it, too. That we would all mold our hearts to better fit that beautiful rhythm of the African drums. That we would somehow all come together and adopt Africa's spirit as our own. How much more powerful and alive would we be? How much more on fire for God would we be?

What would our world look like if all of humanity's hearts danced to the beat of the African drums? My guess is a lot more like heaven. And a lot more like the heart of all hearts. The heart of our Father.
The heartbeat of Africa gives me hope. And even though white girls can't dance--proven today by myself and my teammates who tried to join in dancing with the children in the displacement camp--this is a beat that we are all capable of dancing to. We simply have to open our hearts, trust completely in God, and slowly move one foot in front of the other until we pick up the rhythm.

Tonight I pray that all the world let Africa be its teacher. That we would all stand up, listen carefully, and start dancing to the beat of the African drums. Besides...white girls will never be able to dance if we don't try :)

The Start of an Unforgettable Summer

Three months have gone by since my last post. Which I wrote on my way to Nashville for spring break. I was heading to Nashville to interview for an internship with eXile international and check out the city I would hopefully be living in this summer....

Well, it's officially more than three months later, and I am living an adventure so incredible I couldn't have even imagined it. Let's see if I can break this down...

I'm living on my own for the first time in my 20 years of life. In a city I moved to without knowing a single soul. Away from all of my friends and family. I don't say this to sound dramatic. It was honestly a big step for me. Out of my comfort zone. Away from my safe little bubble. Living in Nashville on my own means I have to develop an independence I've never had to own before. A sense of comfort in being alone. An appreciation for enjoying the company of just myself.

You see, I'm a very dependent person. A huge people person. And my friends are my life. I constantly surround myself with close friends who I do everything with and talk about everything with. I don't make decisions without consulting all of them first. Asking everyone for their opinions and advice. I don't do life alone well. Not that I think we were meant to do life alone, because we definitely weren't. We were designed to live in relationship with each other for a very important reason. Relationships are what make life worth living. But, there comes a time when we all need to learn how to be in healthy relationship with ourselves.

This is exactly what I'm doing this summer. Learning how to love myself. Which is so important, given that we can never truly love another human being if we don't first understand and love ourselves. I'm learning how to be comfortable in an apartment with only the company of a book. Or a journal. Or God. I'm learning how to make important decisions on my own. How to give myself the distance I need from unhealthy relationships. How to step outside of what is known and comfortable and experiment with what is new, exciting, and a little scary.

I'm learning how to love uncertainty. And coming from someone who plans out every moment of every day in multiple to do lists, that is pretty huge. It's helping me to accept that God's timing is not my own, but so much better. So perfect. And so worth waiting for.

I'm learning that there is beauty in not knowing. Possibility in an undefined future. Strength in waiting.

Let's just say this is a summer of personal growth for me. Sounds cheesy, but I really think everyone should take times like these throughout their life. Times of rest and reflection. Times of just being in relationship with yourself. Think about it...if we don't give ourselves a healthy amount of attention and love, how can we expect others to? If we don't treat ourselves with respect and kindness, how can we expect those we are in relationship with to treat us well?

It all starts with us.

I for one am tired of being in selfish, manipulative, and destructive relationships. I'm done chasing after those who don't treat me well. But that in itself is not enough. I know, because I have said that a million times and then entered another messed up, unhealthy relationship. Rather than just telling myself that's not what I deserve and so I'm done with that, I have to instead show myself what I do deserve in a relationship. By taking some time to be in relationship with myself in a healthy way. To get a better understanding of who I am and what I need.


This summer is also an incredible adventure for me because I have been given the opportunity to intern for eXile international, a nonprofit organization with a beautiful heart for the traumatized children in war-torn Africa. eXile does expressive trauma therapy with former child soldiers and war-affected children in Uganda, Congo, and Southern Sudan. They bring hope, love, and healing to the most traumatized hearts in the world so that these children can grow up to be soldiers of peace rather than soldiers of war. So that they can become their nations' leaders.

It has truly been the perfect summer internship for me so far. I have a huge heart for Africa. And a passion for working with the broken and traumatized. And I love working with kids, because their hearts are so precious and they are truly the hope for our world. My heart and passion align almost perfectly with the work that eXile does. And as if that wasn't enough, their current needs happen to match my skills. As executive intern I get to do a lot of organizational work and writing. And if I had to pick two of my strongest skills, they would be organizing. And writing. It's also a really flexible internship, and I get to work from coffee shops all week. Which I love! Because coffee shops are such a peaceful, but busy and people-filled environment. There's something about the dual atmosphere of a coffeeshop that keeps me calm but focused. And as a result, I do some of my best thinking in coffee shops.


As if all of this isn't enough, I was also beyond blessed to travel with the eXile team to Uganda for two weeks. That's right, I got to go back to Africa. My favorite continent. Where I had already left my heart twice. For the third visit in two years. Blessed? I think so!

While we were there, we visited three displacement camps in Gulu and spent a week at Village of Hope Orphanage. We did art therapy, sports therapy, peace education, and EMDR with former child soldiers for the Lord's Resistance Army (LRA). We worked the most traumatized of hearts. Children who were abducted from their homes. Children who were forced to kill their parents, siblings, and friends. Children trained to fight. Children who were raped. Young girls who gave birth in the bush. Children who have lost their parents to the war. Children who have no homes to return to. Children who lost their childhoods to the true evil of Joseph Kony and the LRA.

Now, to write about this trip will take many blog posts. But don't worry, they are on their way! There are lots of stories of strong children with beautiful hearts that I must share with you. These stories show true resilience in the face of suffering. True faith in the Lord. They are stories that have to be shared. Because the voices of these children deserve to be heard. The LRA might have tried to silence them. But that will never happen. These children are not nameless. They are not faceless. They are not storyless. And so, I will share their names, show their pictures, and tell their stories. Again. And again. Until the world hears their heartcry. And does something about the war that has been going on for almost 25 years.

If you read my blog, I ask that you read the next few posts about Africa and these children with your hearts open. Imagine these children telling you their stories themselves. Imagine them standing in front of you asking for your help. Pray for them. Share their stories with your friends and family. They deserve to be heard by everyone. They deserve to be known by all. I also ask that you take a little bit of time to research the war in Northern Uganda, Congo, and Southern Sudan. Read a little bit about Joseph Kony and the LRA. Educate yourself on the destruction that has been going on in East Africa. We can't help if we don't know what is happening. And if we truly know the devastation, we can't ignore it any longer. Then, if you want to get involved, look up Invisible Children and Resolve Uganda, two organizations that have been working really hard to educate the public and advocate for action by our government.

These are real children. With real names. Real faces. And real stories.


See them.

               Hear them.

                                 Help them.