“But Ruth said, ‘Do not urge me to leave you or to return from following you. For where you go, I will go, and where you lodge, I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God my God.’” – Ruth 1:16
The sun is finally out, and after weeks of heavy rains that cut us off from using the main road, things are beginning to look up. The ground is slowly drying, and the road is now easier to pass with the sun shining brightly. The water levels are receding, and life is gradually returning to normal. We’ve started repairing the damage the storm left behind—broken fences, flooded gardens, broken roof and muddy paths—but the warmth of the sun brings hope. The end of the year is approaching, and there’s a buzz of excitement as the children dive into their lessons, eager to show how much they’ve learned.
It’s been a heavy week for Jonny and me. News from home hasn’t been easy, with some family members facing health challenges. Being so far away makes the weight of it even heavier. But the children here have a way of lifting your spirits in the simplest moments. Every morning, as I walk down to the office, they’re already there, sitting on the steps, waiting for school to start. Sometimes I can’t resist skipping staff devotion to sit with them. Today, they made me laugh, telling me my hair is shiny and that they want to pin it to their heads so they can look like me. Then little Sarah mentioned she had a bad stomach ache yesterday. Their honesty, their joy, and even their small complaints remind me of the beauty in their innocence.
Life for these children is so different from what we knew growing up. Their day starts before the sun rises, often around five in the morning. You can hear them moving outside, already busy with the rhythm of their daily tasks. They fetch water from the well, take a cold bucket shower, and sweep the compound before sitting down for a quick cup of tea. After that, they begin the long walk to school—some of them for over an hour, navigating muddy paths and thick bush. It’s a journey that’s part of their daily life, one they’ve grown accustomed to. But what always strikes me is how school isn’t just a place for learning; it’s a brief escape. For a few hours, they get to leave behind the weight of their responsibilities and simply be children. But when the school day ends, their real work begins. Older siblings shoulder even more responsibility. They fetch additional water, gather firewood, bring the cows in from the fields, help with cooking, and wash up after everyone has eaten. It’s a constant cycle, and weekends offer no respite. Together, families dig in the gardens, making sure there’s enough food to see them through the coming days. Despite all of this, the children stay at school as long as they can. They cling to these moments of play, of learning, knowing how fleeting they are. In the midst of hard work, they still find joy in being kids, and it’s a beautiful thing to witness.
For Jonny and me, family is everything. Whether it’s our relatives back home, close friends, or our church community, these connections keep us grounded. We’ve come to cherish the bonds we’ve built here as well, creating a network of support that feels like an extension of our own family. Back home, it’s easy to take this for granted—you know there’s always someone to call in the middle of the night. Here, many don’t have that kind of safety net. Some walk through life without anyone they can truly trust.
That’s why we do what we do. More than anything, we want to be family for everyone here—whether it’s the children who come to our school or the adults who work alongside us. We want each of them to experience the love and grace of God, to know that they’re never truly alone, no matter how challenging their circumstances may be. I think about the story of Ruth and Naomi, and how it speaks to the kind of family we are trying to be here. Naomi had lost everything—her husband, her sons, her sense of belonging—and she felt like she had nothing left. But Ruth, her daughter-in-law, didn’t leave her. She chose to stay and said, “Where you go, I will go; your people will be my people, and your God my God.”
This is the kind of loyalty and love we want to embody in this place, not just for the children, but for everyone in our community. We want to create a sense of family, a place where no one feels abandoned or forgotten. As this journey unfolds, the incredible power of family becomes ever more apparent—both the family we choose and the one God has chosen for us. In a world that often feels divided, it’s a beautiful thing to witness how God’s love weaves us together, transcending every boundary and uniting us as one. No matter where we come from or what challenges we face, we all share a Father in heaven who calls us His own, offering us a love that binds us together as one family. This truth is a constant source of hope and strength as we walk this path, knowing that we are never truly alone.
There’s so much more to share from our life here in Uganda, and we’re eager to bring you along with us. Every day holds something new, and we’re grateful for your support as we navigate this journey. As we move forward, we hope you’ll feel a little closer to what we’re experiencing here, and that you’ll be reminded of the love and family we all share in God. Until next time, know that you are in our hearts and prayers, wherever you may be.
With Love Dana
Thank you, Dana