I have been in Uganda for five days. I am having so much fun, I hardly know what to do with myself. Here’s an example.

Last Spring Samuel (the local pastor) and I were evangelizing in the village of Naminya where we would end up planting a church in the next couple of weeks. We met an elderly lady there, probably in her eighties, but it’s hard to tell, by helping her carry her heavy water container up the hill to her tiny mud-wattle, thatch-roofed and every-bit-as-rickety-as-she hut where she lived. During that time we took the opportunity to share the Good News with her. She said she was Catholic and knew the pope and knew Peter, and though very talkative, was dismissive of much further discussion of Jesus Christ.

As we blessed her in prayer and then turned to go, she said in her Lusoga language that she needed some sugar and hadn’t had any for a long time. She is far from town, and she lives her life between her small garden, the local spring where the community gets their water, and the door of her little hut. I guess she thought that she’d take a stab at asking the musungu (white man) to bring her something she needed.

I thought about that again and again over my remaining weeks in Uganda, as if the Holy Spirit wouldn’t let me forget it. Finally, on one of my final days in Uganda, I went to the store in Jinja with Samuel, bought a bag of sugar, and we took it all the way out to Naminya and surprised her with it. It had been a couple of weeks, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t get a lot of visitors who look like me, so she was very surprised when we pounded on her door, and she peered out at us, wondering I’m sure, what this strange white American wanted on a late afternoon, waking her up from her nap. Then, as she stepped out to us, I handed her the bag of sugar, and Samuel interpreted that the Lord was giving her some sugar. She couldn’t believe it, and she smiled a smile so big that it was, in itself, thanks enough to me.

Then, as we blessed her, and turned to go, she called out after us that she hadn’t had any meat in over two years. We about fell out of the car laughing.

So, can you guess what my first task from the Holy Spirit was as I arrived back in Uganda and we went to visit the little church-plant in Naminya this last Saturday? You guessed it. I purchased a kilo of beef from the market, and we went looking for our friend. It’s been six months since my Spring visit, and as is often the case with people who live at this level of subsistence, she had moved. We asked some children where Luwaida had moved to, and they, excited to be interacting with a real musungu themselves, escorted us up the road and around the bend to a slightly better dwelling – a little room stuck on the end of a row of rooms that are rented out to locals. There was Luwaida, just as I remembered her, sitting inside a tiny cornhusk lean-to in front of her “apartment.” I’m pretty sure the lean-to was her kitchen, but you would hardly think this four by four by four foot structure woven from cornstalks, husks and leaves could serve as much of a kitchen.

She rose to meet Samuel, and then saw me standing in the yard, and for a moment she looked very confused. Then I held out the meat as Samuel translated, saying, “Mother [a common title for elderly women in Uganda] the Lord has sent you some meat.” Well, there was that smile again. And then she started laughing, and I started laughing and Samuel started laughing, and she kept squeezing our hands and saying thank you, thank you.

I’m telling you, fun like this doesn’t just happen – it’s something only the Lord grows. “You will go out with joy and be led out with peace, and the mountains and the hills will break into song before you, and the trees of the field will clap their hands” (Is. 55:12). I’m not sure exactly what God is trying to do with Luwaida, though I have some ideas. But the truth is, for me this is more about obeying His heart as He leads me about than anything else, and fun doesn’t near describe it!

As we got into the car and began to pull away, Luwaida called out after us. I couldn’t understand her, so I asked Samuel what she had said as we pulled away. He said, “She says she needs some soap.”