A Chorus of Glory

My most recent post, Why We Remember, while dedicated to the memory of 9/11, brought Christian perspective to the general importance of rembrance.  

Remembrance gives purpose. Remembrance brings gratitude.  

Remembrance strengthens community.  Remembrance provides perspective.  

Remembrance reignites hope 

in what God will bring us through today and forever... 

because He is faithful.

Today, I was reading this post by my friend Bonnie over at Faith Barista; it is a tribute to a dying friend through whom a song of joy still rings clear, a song that will resound long after death because of the work of God in her.  In this story, I heard a familiar melody and her name was Sweet Michelle.  In her brief four months, she taught me how to fight for life and reminded me of the Kingdom for which we are made and in which we are called to live now.  Today I remember her, and it reignites my hope, because it brings me back to Him, the One who brings us through... the One who really is faithful. 

Let us not take this life for granted and let us live every breath in worship of our loving God, letting the songs of our lives resonate even now, a chorus of His glory.

Should you want to know more, the following are excerpts from my newsletters sent in 2006, sharing the story of Michelle Amani.  Much has been edited out for length and sensitivity.

January
It was the 4th of October, when a 16 year-old Ugandan gave birth to a premature girl. Weighing only 1.47 kilos, the baby was left to fend for itself when the mother made a prompt exit from the hospital.  The social worker at Mulago hospital handed her to me, saying she needed a name for their records.  “Abandoned Baby Girl” was renamed Michelle for my sister.

Sweet Michelle, as I call her, is the color of brown sugar, not like the light sandy grains at home, rather the dark, syrupy crystals we import here from Kenya. She fits perfectly cradled in my arm, allowing her to pull her right arm out over top of the blanket, rolling her palm into a small fist.  She draws it up to rest under her chin, pursing her lips as she dreams.  Already a diva, she pushes out her upper lip in a reverse pout as she opens her eyes, expecting attention.  The workers insist on keeping her dressed in pink for her namesake, and just like my big sis, she loves both to sleep and get her own way.

The boy who had come to us with Michelle that day had died from his conditions.  It was only a few days after burying him, that our nurse came upstairs, flustered and shaking.  “Holly, your sister is sick.”

Tests revealed that she is HIV Reactive, with hepatitis, a bacterial infection, anemia, etc.

Hours can pass so quickly when just holding her, praying for her, loving her. You want no moment to be wasted. Mom, was this what you felt when you held my sick infant body for so long? Yet I am alive, healthy and strong. I have to believe the same for my sister, this child who like so many of our others will carry with her the name of our orphanage on her paperwork, on her history. In that gesture alone she has written into her identity the Swahili meaning of Amani, peace, and the Lugandan, power.

She looks boldly into my face when I hold her, black eyes locked to my brown, like she knows something we’ve forgotten.

February
When Sweet Michelle would look at me so boldly, I think I know what made her stare unwaveringly.  Michelle was only four months old but was born with a knowledge not gained through years on this earth, rather it is a knowledge often dimmed by our time in this place.

While I was away for the weekend, I got the text that she had fallen sick and lost a kilo in the course of one night. With almost half of her body weight gone and all that history of illness, I knew it was desperate. I loved her and she had been showing such progress.

I held her tiny frame from early morning until late evening Monday. Tuesday she went to Kampala. She died with all the symptoms of Stage 4 AIDS on Wednesday, January 25th.

We never know what all God is doing when our prayers for healing are answered in different ways, but we have to trust Him. You see, we can get too accustomed to our lives.

Michelle knew we were not made for the things of this earth, but for the Kingdom of God. I think she knew this in her spirit as we are all born with a longing for God.  Her story reminds us that this is all just a beginning. That alone makes it a story of hope, in spite of sadness.

Moving in Confidence

My favorite view of Lake Victoria on the way to work at the orphanage.

The process of shifting from Africa to Ireland wasn't easy.  I was moving from a world where need was visibly evident from every angle to a country that looked like a piece of heaven itself.  Because of that, it was a vision some folk couldn't latch onto at first and many would question.  I did not.  It was a move made in confidence, with the complete certainty that this is where God wanted me.

Sometimes I wonder how I can be so confident in certain things, like transcontinental relocation, and so insecure in other things.  I came here so excited to see what God would do, with no doubt that God's hand was in it.  I was eager to get involved in whatever God put before me.  When I was placed in worship, it confirmed something God had already spoken to me which should have given me more assurance, yet I was riddled with fears.  It took time and some emotional outbursts to get to a point where I was able to move in that role confidently, and yet it has been an amazing journey full of joy ever since.  I even spoke recently of how God continues to challenge me in that area here.

I was visiting with a friend yesterday and she was asking how I was feeling this first bit into my detox.  I replied that although I wouldn't have imagined so, I honestly felt as exhausted as I did when I was recovering from malaria.  That of course led to questions which ended in sharing a lot of wild memories of stories that still seem so unreal even to me who lived them, but are indeed absolutely true.  Stories of hardship, perseverance, and in the end, victory.  When my friend suggested I write these down, I shrugged them off, saying they were nothing compared to other friends I have there that are "really living it."

In one breath I had devalued all the miraculous things God had done, because it didn't compare to my idea of things. 

Oh, God forgive me.

I was reminded of one of those friends a few years back, when after hearing one of her wild stories from the unforgiving islands of Lake Victoria,  I made a similar comment.  She corrected me right then, saying I should not compare.  She went on to say how she'd rather deal with the actual cobras she had than the corrupt government officials I had to deal with, that if she were to compare, she'd see me as the one "really living it."

When we compare ourselves like this we find that we do one of two things:  we either push ourselves to accomplish His work out of our own strength instead of by the Spirit, or we give up part of our call to try living out everyone else's.  Both only lead to failure followed by more attempts to prove ourselves, followed by more failure and so on.  This cycle is not the victorious life to which God has called us.

Just as He did with worship, God is calling me to be confident in who I am in Him alone.  This confidence means making decisions based on His wisdom and not out of guilt.  It means letting go of hurts from folk (including myself) who have wrongly judged and accused me, forgiving them, and finding joy in the healing.  This confidence means sharing stories of faith without comparison.  Why?  Because it brings Him glory and builds our... confidence. 

You show that you are a letter from Christ,

the result of our ministry, 

written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, 

not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts.

Such confidence we have through Christ before God.

Not that we are competent in ourselves

to claim anything for ourselves, 

but our competence comes from God. 

He has made us competent

as ministers of a new covenant

—not of the letter but of the Spirit; 

for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life. 

2 Corinthians 3:3-6

For more stories of how folk are moving forward with confidence, visit Bonnie at