[normal people don't do this]

October 26: Had a surprise interview with Asante in Kampala, Uganda

October 27: Was asked to join a tour for Asante, beginning November 5.

October 29: Packed my bags to leave Kampala, found out that because of the hurricane I'd be delayed two days.

October 30: Asante, yes.

October 31: Actually left Uganda. Spent the night in UAE on the way home.

November 1: Arrive in JFK and learn I indeed do NOT have a flight to Rochester. Bum a ride off friends of my mother.

November 2: Arrive home. Unpack. Repack. Sleep. Laundry. Decide to throw a thank you dinner for my supporters, make a bunch of phone calls, run errands. Fill out paperwork and application for a job I already have a flight booked to get to.

November 3: Unpack more. Repack more. Sleep a little. Prepare for the dinner.

November 4: Church. Make oodles of chapati and other prep stuff for the dinner. Have the dinner. Visit friends. Go home. Finish packing. Sleep.

November 5: Fly to Portland, Oregon. Spend the afternoon with a friend, then get dropped at an address. Knock on the door. Ask, "Am I supposed to be here? I'm Amy." Am welcomed in and later ask, "So, who are you and why am I here?"

November 6: Picked up by Asante director and taken to airport to pick other chaps. Training.

November 7: Training. Ha. Training.

November 8: Pile on bus and head to Idaho. Sleep in hotel.

November 9: Pile on bus and head to Wyoming.  Bus dies. Sleep in hotel.

November 10: Wait in the hotel to hear about the bus. Get flights arranged to fly to Minneapolis the next day.

November 11: Leave hotel early and fly to Minneapolis. [END TIME CHANGES FOR TWO MONTHS.]

And.... now I'm sitting in the airport waiting for the Choir to arrive!

Phew.

i can't think of a decent title for this

Alright, friends.

Here’s the scoop.  If you have been following me on Facebook, you have probably been wondering what on earth is happening to me, and where on earth I am.

Let me tell you: I wake up at what I think should be morning [2am, 4:30am…] and ask those very same questions!

Well here we go, friends, hang on to your seats because it’s been a wild ride! (Actually, you will be fine. I’m the one that needs to buckle.)

here in your courts

Devotions in the African Children's Choir are beautiful times of being together. I miss them. Twenty to thirty to forty or more people; our ACC family, hosties, friends, church members - singing songs they know, learning new ones, and looking around smiling as Luganda or Kiswahilli words unite to praise God and we are reminded of the beauty of culture and language and God's sovereignty and grace that brings us together.

One of my absolute favorite devotion songs has lyrics that decorated my sound board on tour and now my garden at home. 

"Here in Your courts where I'm close to Your throne, I'll find where I belong." 

Where I belong. We spend countless hours trying to figure out where we belong. As if the lyrics implied that the time at His throne would give us an answer like "home" or "tour" or "Africa" or "Haiti" or anywhere else on this earth. 

No. You find where you belong as your knees mark the floor because you are already there. At his feet. In His courts. Where you - where we - belong. 

I love Africa. I have more than loved my time here. I wish it wasn't so quickly wrapping up. But being here does not put me "where God wants me." Being home does not put me "where God wants me." Being on a bus does not put me "where God wants me." 

Living my life with Him in His presence at His throne listening to Him and following where on this earth He choses to place me - 

That is where God wants me. 

The Moment

The moment when you step off the plane and realize... They are here.

The moment you step out of baggage claim and all those next to you frantically look for their names on paper... And your eyes find your family.

The moment you realize that because of the fair and the traffic and an accident and your taxi stuck in the middle of it means your time with your kids may be cut short... It is surprisingly peaceful.

The moment you step onto the school property and are told, "Wait here" and so you begin your search for your babies from your assigned position... It is a stunted emotional high. 

The moment they see you and your eyes meet and they come bolting towards you so hard and so fast they nearly take the wind out of you when they hit you with their hug... It is perfect. 

The moment Deborah says, "Auntie, remember how at Auntie Katy and Uncle Bubba's how I couldn't swim? Now I am a good swimmer and even I know all the strokes!" ... You beam. 

The moment it's time to go and they are physically pulling you and won't let you leave... It is painful, for two reasons...

The moment Charity looks at your eyes and says, "Auntie let me wipe away for you your tears like you used to wipe mine," and gently catches your face and uses her thumbs to dry your cheeks... It is hilarious and can only result in more tears. 

The moment you walk away and know... Even though it was so short, it was totally worth it. 

leaving on a jet plane

It's that time again - that time when I pack my bags and peace out of town! 

For nearly two years I lived on a bus full of wonderful Africans.  Two groups of people that quickly became my second and third families.  I learned about their cultures, languages, tribes, cities, villages, families..... I realned how to tark with my L's and my R's arr mixed alound.  I learned to sing countless songs in languages I don't know and how to shake my cabina with the best of the white folk.

All the while, looking forward to the day when I could walk on their soil with them and experience their homeland as they have experienced mine. 

Well, friends....

Three more days.

We are on our way to Chicago. Actually, we are on our way to camp and we're stopping in Chicago on the way. Time is running very thin - the kids fly home on Friday. How has it been five months already!? Even I am not sure. We had our last and 100th concert on Sunday, then spent until this morning staying at the church. I love those bits of time together as a family. The next few days will be busy, full of emotions, and as I wave goodbye to my second choir - my family, I'm finding myself spending my little bits of free time researching flights to Uganda...

tick tock

Time.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.  A couple weeks ago I was convinced the wall in my hostie was ticking because I could hear the clock... but it was nowhere to be found.

Time.

I spent time looking for that clock.  It was driving me crazy.

I heard ticking on the bus a few days later, right after Uncle Garry threw away the clock that didn't work. After roaming around the bus with my ear to everything possible, I discovered the clock.

In the dashboard.

Always ticking.  Oi da.

To God, a day is like a thousand years and a thousand years are like a day.

On tour, a day is like a thousand years and a thousand years are like a day.