Season of Giving

The Season is approaching. I knew it when I heard the Christmas music and talk of decorating with toilet paper and cotton balls, in the clinic. Since it is a little different from the environment with which I am accustomed, it is difficult to come to the same understanding that this is truly...the Christmas season. The snowflakes, twinkling lights, cold weather, fireplaces and hot chocolate seem far from reach and quite frankly...missing.

“I remember when they came with the boxes,” Job recalled Operation Christmas Child. “I was in Jinja at the time...”

One blessing in being here, has been meeting and coming to know certain people who have been reached by the very organizations, to which many give and know back home. One can see first hand, the difference these ministries have done for them, and the difference that shows through them.

The receptionist at the clinic has a brother who was sponsored through Compassion.

“He is now going to sponsor someone.” She added. “It is his way of giving back.” She, herself, had been blessed through her uncle paying for her school fees, and in turn, adopted four girls when she was graduated.

It was my turn to give back from what I had learned from Doctor Irene today. It happened through a deep cut on the top of a young boy's foot. I knew it was stitching time, and Irene confirmed, nodding towards the stitching containers and pulling up a stool to watch. Clean the wound, inject Lidocaine, apply sterile gloves, grip the needle with a clamp, and the thread with forceps. Go.

Skin on the feet is ridiculously tough, and Irene reminded me to move my fingers away from the other side of the wound.

“You are going to get the needle through and pierce right through your own hand!”

That would not be good or sterile. I was glad she was there to guide. I pierced through one side of the wound flap, drew the needle up, and pierced through the other side. Then unclamping, I held the needle with my forceps, made a loop in the thread with my scissors, drawing up the remaining thread on the far side of the wound, through the loop multiple times, and securing a knot. Three more times, and it was done.

In the evening, the volunteers headed over to Maurice and Jean's house. They would be leaving in a few hours, heading back to their home in Scotland for the holidays. We entered the door and congregated among the others who often walk in and out of their home, attend their Bible studies and receive the love and counsel of the missionary couple. Around a circle, we were asked to share what God had done for us in 2014. Not one person went blank, but each could have probably talked for way longer than five minutes. One of the girls went on – month by month. God is good, and He gives; He continually gives. "He who did not spare His own son, but gave Him up for us all, how will He not also with Him freely give us all things." Romans 8:32

Walking over to Maurice and Jean's

Around the electric piano, Jean played carols and and we all sang. I wish I could say the snow was “falling softly outside”, but most of them have never seen snow and that would definitely be false. Mardi and I dove into the high part like an elderly church choir.

“Beautiful descant!” Jean exclaimed.

“...death count?!” Mardi looked around confused.

Somehow it was fitting.

Maurice and Jean's house

It was not long before we were bidding the couple goodnight, and headed back through the night to our apartment. If there are a people who understands the meaning of giving, I know I am among them. I am continually touched and blessed by the overflow of generosity. After all, He gave all...He asks all.