This is not just another update. I have something on my mind and in my heart to share. So, please bear with the updates for my message in all of this.
Today was a day for officials from the Ugandan government to come and inspect the grounds, inform us about what the laws say to do, and offer advice on how to better fulfill the requirements. Many people spoke and the Hope children gave a prepared presentation of a few songs and a Bible verse. I will mention only a few of the things said and done at that meeting today.
Toto Florence is an investigator for the police in the Soroti district, which encompasses many surrounding villages within a 50 mile radius. She calls herself Toto, (the Ugandan word for mother), because she considers all of the street children as her own. She is a unique person with a passion for children and for God, and I have great respect for her… But, sometimes she can be very amusing. This afternoon, while we were in the government meeting on the Hope property she said this:
“I thank you for the work you are doing in Soroti. May you delay to die, so that you may continue to do the work in the Teso region.”
(The Teso people are those living in and around Soroti. They speak Ateso and are the majority of the people with which we work.)
I laughed inside of myself at the variation of speech. Being a writer, I found that statement intriguing. She said: “May you delay to die”, as if we held within ourselves the power to die or live, but perhaps we do. If we choose to become lethargic about our faith, and quell the moving of the Holy Ghost within us, spiritually we die. May we delay to die, may we choose life, and the life of a disciple of Christ; on fire for the scriptures and the salvation of souls.
Another of the government officials for the district stood up to speak and her words made me physically ill. She told of how a mother, just a few days ago, took her son and cut him in three pieces with a hoe.
A gruesome tale and one that should never have been created. As it was told us, her husband was married once before to another woman and they divorced. He then married this woman and she bore him a child, after which he realized his error in leaving his first wife and reconciled with her, forsaking his second wife and young son. In her anger, she took her son and chopped him up; brutally hacked him to literal, bloody pieces on the ground and left him there… Dead.
I am a writer. I can envision this scene perfectly in my head…and every time I think about it-, another part of me dies. I’m weeping as I write this. My heart is broken and my spirit crushed as I relate such a horror. My mind cannot fathom it, nor would I ever wish to. Such a level of hatred is beyond my mind, thanks to God. My heart hurts, my soul cries: injustice, insurrection, God saves us from the body of death!
I pondered those things, after I heard of such a crime against God and man, I thought of our little children at Hope Children’s Village.
The children at Hope are protected, they are safe, they are loved… loved, loved. By God-… And by each person whose life touches theirs. These… Precious, helpless children should never live in fear of being severed, dissected, cloven in pieces by their parents or anyone else. No man has the right to take the life of another. Murder is a sick form of hatred, it costs too much and yields no satisfaction.
The murder of young children in Uganda through negligence, child sacrifice, and the outbursts of their parents anger is a thing every moral soul cries out against. The injustice rocks our very souls. But what do we do to stop it. Don’t dare say that it is too great a task for one man alone or even many men, for with God all things are possible. How can we make a difference in this world if we are not willing to sacrifice ourselves and feel for the lives of others. How can we truly serve others if we are desensitized to sin! Why are we silent? Why are we still? If Christians will not stand and fight, then no one else will.
Why… Don’t we see? …When we see, why don’t we feel? …When we feel, why don’t we do anything?
I’m sorry folks, but I can’t live the way I’ve lived, or be the way I was. Every day is a gift to me because, I know, Somebody died for me. And all I want to do for the rest of my days, no matter the cost, is to give my life to serve Him.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow. Praise Him ALL creatures here below. Praise Him above ye heavenly hosts. Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.
As always, thanks for reading.
–the broken anonymous novelist