A Slice of Humble Pie

Today I'll tell you about my first piece of humble pie I ate while in Africa. I had several slices...maybe even a whole pie by the time I was done with the trip. I'd love to share that I'm all mature and Spirit filled and God didn't have to bang on my hard head while in Africa, but that just wouldn't be the truth.

Today I am going to talk about the reason that most of the team signed up for the trip to Africa. Katie's. Katie's story is fascinating, no doubt. She is a girl completely surrendered to the Lord, but once you've been to Africa you don't need a story like Katie's as a reason to go back. I'd get on a plane next week and go back to anywhere in Africa just because there is something incredible about the place. I can't put it into words, but the Spirit is alive and moving, there is freedom and just something that my soul craves that gets fulfilled when I go to Africa.

So, we head to Katie's with lots of crafts and 400 pairs for shoes for the kids in the village that come to Katie's for lunch every Saturday. Katie's girls are incredibly welcoming. Tabby and I ended up at the side of the house....not sure how, but we did. Some of Katie's girls were putting flour into plastic bags. 3 heaping scoops to be exact.


The children go home with flour, rice, beans and soap after a trip to Katie's on Saturday. So Tabby and I got to work. We enjoyed getting to know Katie's girls. They are beautiful and funny and we decided to co-labor with them. For awhile it was fine and then the job got kind of tedious. I started thinking about how hard their lives are and how the work is never done. They were cooking the beans right next to us and the smell of smoke was starting to bother my lungs. Hours later as I'm still putting flour and beans and rice into bags, I'm starting to get a little selfish. I want to be running and playing and singing with the kids from the community. That's what I came to do, but I'm stuck in this corner(pity party) with big bags of flour and I'm covered in flour from head to toe because I have a three year old helper whose fine motor skills are not perfected.


I decide to throw a little pity party in my brain and heart even though there was a smile on my face. And then a still small voice, "Be my hands and feet". That's what I got. Still I wanted to run and play and sing some African songs. And again, "Be my hands and feet". Okay, I heard. I'll submit.


And so, most of the flour was done and I headed into Katie's house to get away from the smoky air for a few minutes.

The process of handing out shoes was well under way. The kids lined up and got sized first, then they got their feet washed and dried and fitted for a new pair of school shoes. I sized kids for awhile. Then I dried their feet. I put neosporin and bandaids on several feet because they had sores. I prayed over those sweet feet as I dried them. I heard the singing outside and although there was a tug to go sing and dance, I knew my assignment for the day. Be His hands and feet. Be Christ's servant in whatever way you can. (Not that singing and dancing with the kids isn't being His hands and feet, but that wasn't what Christ would have for me that day). I ended up in a dark hallway with rows and rows of shoes searching for correct sizes with a small flashlight. It wasn't glamorous. It won't win any awards or make it into any magazines, but I knew that I was fulfilling my call that day. I was a servant not looking for a pat on the back or any kind of approval except the approval of my Lord Jesus Christ. I believe that He said, "well done" at the end of that day. Sumer and Angela and several others offered to relieve my duties in the hallway so that I could go outside and sing and dance, but I was living in my sweet spot that Saturday in Africa. I was living out my passion of serving others before myself. And so, my first Saturday in Uganda I ate a big serving of humble pie and it tasted fine. God reminded me that it's not about me, it's about Him. I decided that on Sunday, I would be His hands and feet again. Simon (one of our team leaders)could've asked me to scrub African toilets and I would've obeyed because I knew that the assignment would've come straight from the hands of our precious Lord.

There is a BUT GOD and the end of this story. God honors, blesses and rewards our obedience. I wasn't looking for anything at the end of the day. I was content with a job well done. BUT GOD had a special blessing for me. One of Katie's girls, Hellen, developed an attachment to me. I don't know when and I don't know how. I don't even remember having a conversation with her. But God chose to bless me with a special friend, Hellen. Every time our bus went to Katie's (at least one time each day for the next several days), Hellen would run out and search the bus for me. She didn't search for anyone else...she scanned up and down the bus until she found me. She would hug on my neck and hold my hand. A sweet bond that the Lord created. And in those sweet moments, God reminded me that He searches for me in the same way. The eyes of the Lord move to and fro throughout the earth that He may strongly support those whose heart is completely His. (2 Chron. 16:9) May my heart be full and completely His each and every day of my life...not just one Saturday in Uganda.