Once a passion, now a burden

What was once a passion, is now a burden.

I read this last night. And knew that I had found the perfect way to describe my life.

When I was 16, my "interest" in African orphans was beginning. I remember sitting across my table with my mentor/friend and saying, "I think I have a heart for Africa. For orphans."
I think.

She pushed me to pursue what was in my heart and see what God could make of it. What God would make of it.

I went to Ethiopia when I was 17. I worked along side the pastor's family and elders' wives to put on a VBS for children at our church's "sister church" in Arba Minch. At the end of the trip, our pastor asked us to share why we felt God brought us on this trip. I was surprised to hear, "This was a trip of preparation. I feel I'm being prepared for my future," spilled out of my mouth.

[That's me, with the beard]

[Me and Joseph, a Somalia refugee orphan]

I came home. Went to school. Continued my life.
My passion for Africa remaining.
I sent money to World Vision. I made totes to sell and raise money for orphans. I saw the Watoto's Children Choir from Uganda and heard about their ministry.
I had a passion, and it was obvious.


And then I went to Uganda to work at Baby Watoto.
I saw the face of African Orphans.
I held them.
I wiped their tears.
I feed them.
I prepared their bottles.
I changed their dirty diapers.
I rocked them to sleep.
I cleaned up their vomit.
I loved them.

[Me holding Charity when she was sick]

[Beautiful, beautiful Claire]

And now...well, now that passion for African orphans is a burden.
It is carried with me constantly. I can't go a day without "Uganda" passing through my lips. It's something I pray about every single night. It's what makes me cry, day after day, night after night. It's physically impossible for me to ignore it, not even for just a day, an hour.

This burden consumes me.
It has wrecked what I knew as "me."

But I wouldn't have it any other way.