Spitting out the bad taste in my mouth

My vent from Northern, Uganda.

Uh, I’m so outraged, yet broken, FRUSTRATED but still raw – all at the same time. What is the value of a human life?
It’s not that high or at least not high enough, I can tell you that much. If you look around the evidence is everywhere and I’m almost out of Kleenex because of it.
Earlier this morning a family was brought to the mission house I’m staying at. Five kids under twelve. They had been living in a camp or “IDP village”. Their fathers an alcoholic, their mothers gone mad and they have no living relatives except an old frail grandfather. They’re in such bad condition they left the camp and were brought here. Just looking at them crumpled my heart. Their feet. Uh, their poor little feet had this fungus on them where their toenails looked like they had been repeatedly slammed in a door and the souls of their feet looked like sand paper. They had ring worm so bad it looked like it was eroding or “chewing off” one girls ear. Scabies COVERED their bodies, worms were in their hands not to mention their big swollen bellies. I felt sick and had to leave the room on occasion to regain composure.
My thought – love them and love them well. Uh. Right. The more time I spent with them the sicker my stomach felt. The two oldest kids went to a school in the camp and got one meal per day but as soon as they’d get it they’d run home with it and give it to the three smaller ones, as, well…it’s all any of them would see of any substance all day. And that’s in the camp.. where they’d run TO. So what have they run from?
I see individuals like this everywhere I go, I don’t know why this family is hitting me so hard. One little boy I saw a couple weeks ago, John. I still don’t want to write about him. But today it’s like, enough. What the heck. I’m just so frustrated at the state of...this.
It’d be soo much easier to look away or at least to separate my heart from the reality. “Self protection”. Mother Teresa always said to “pray for the courage to love” haha. Honestly I don’t know if I’m brave enough.
And I thought I could do Darfur. HA!
Maybe this is prep.
Everyone here has a story of war. Encounters with the LRA. Both locals and foreigners.
Man, no apologies though. I hate it when people tell sad stories to try to get money so in response I’ve often not told stories of families but this is reality (and I haven’t processed it yet so I’m taking it out online. Oh my goodness the cheese)
But really, this isn't a rarity; this is just one of a million. Everyday life. You can’t look at it that way I know, it really is all about the one. But uh. I dunno.
No matter how much I cuddle those kids, and no matter how many funguses I get from them, I still leave in two weeks. On to more faces and families.
I looked down at their maimed little toes once and then over at my French pedicured feet and it felt so..bizarre. Not that I’m apologizing for my pedicure lol it’s just.. Sometimes I realize how little I know of life. In all worlds. First through Third.
Anyways. We bought them shoes and fed them gave ‘em treats. The ministry here has now adopted them as well so their story's not over.
I dunno. It’s hard sometimes. I don't think this is coming out correctly. My written thought processing isn’t always to clear, I will apologize for that.
I should hop over to the market before it gets any later tho. The food here is TERRIBLE and expensive so I'm gonna go see what I can find from somewhere. OI. Life as it comes, the adventure of learning his goodness. Oh Jesus. :)