little mercy.

I write from a place of brokenness before the Lord.

A little girl who I blogged about here has gone to be with Jesus.

She was a Ugandan child living in the slums, attending the local church where I got to encounter her.

Sicle Cell Anemia took her.

I think, now, of her sister, Briscla, who is so bright and cares so much for little Mercy.

God, may you keep her all the rest of her days. May she not look on you with hate and confusion but with love and with knowing that you have a plan for her and for her family.

Pray for this family who has just lost their little daughter.

I am walking through the police barracks on my last day in Kampala. The sun is hot on my shoulders and everything around me is a shade of brown--the dirt, the huts, the people.

Both, children and adults are everywhere. The whole of the barracks, it seems, comes to greet me.

I see kids darting through passages between huts that were not plain to my eye and adults doing laundry and waving as I walk by.

Community.

I look into an alley on my right and I see her, a face that I know. Little Mercy. She is squatting in the dirt. I rush to avert my eyes, to give her a little privacy as she relieved herself but she was not phased by my presence. A different culture, thats for sure. She grinned up at me and said "hi teachaaa!" It had taken me a whole week to earn that love with Mercy. She was a shy girl, reserved, with searching eyes.

Each day at church I saw her dancing in worship. A smile plastered on her face.

Now in my mind's eye I see her dancing. She is not alone. She is holding hands with our King, the same hand that I held so many times is holding the hand of the King. They are dancing the hip-shaking dance of her African culture. Her smile is big and oh so beautiful.

And His eyes are filled with joy and they stay fixed on her as they dance.

Together at last.

little mercy.

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