I had fallen head over heels in love with Uganda and couldn’t wait to return

It was 2008 when my husband, Paul, and I went to Uganda for our first mission trip. It energized me in a way that I hadn’t experienced in years, loving everything about the rural village that served as our base of operations. As I walked the lush footpaths with the laughing children, I felt God’s presence in a profound way. I was so moved by the experience that as we gathered with the villagers on the last day of our trip, I publicly promised that we would return the following year – and every year thereafter.

Unfortunately, Paul’s experience differed vastly from mine. As a family physician, he had been asked to serve in a one-room roadside “clinic” with no other doctors, no electricity, no running water and no medical supplies other than what he had brought in his suitcase. What he did have in abundance was an endless number of patients – many of whom had walked for miles to seek help – with long lists of symptoms and serious medical problems. Paul would work late into the night using a flashlight and then get up the next day and do it again. He felt like he was confronting a forest fire with a squirt gun.

My husband likes infrastructure, supplies, order and predictability. I am an aging hippie who never met an adventure she didn’t like. Let’s just say that Paul didn’t appreciate that I committed us to returning to Uganda for the next several years. Indeed, he was pretty upset with me (and rightfully so).

When Paul and I got home and could finally review what had happened on the trip, it became clear that we had both a solvable problem and what felt like an unsolvable problem. Continue reading →