I’m in Nashville for a couple of days (not for the CMT awards, I promise), and yesterday afternoon I met Keely, Spence, Randy and Chris for coffee in downtown Franklin.

It was the first time I’d seen any of them since we were in Uganda, and I have to tell you: hanging out with them did my heart a world of good.

Because I enjoy All The Laughing.

I haven’t talked about the friendship side of the Compassion trip very much, mainly because it’s difficult to explain why I feel so connected to the people who were there. But there’s no question that part of the connection (now I’m feeling like a contestant on “The Bachelor” because I keep using the word “connection.” Next thing you know I’ll be using the word “amazing” repeatedly. And then I’ll be saying “amazing connection.” And then SOMEONE WILL HAVE TO MAKE ME STOP.) is just that we went through a very emotional experience in each other’s company. I think it’s normal to bond under those circumstances.

But there’s another part of it, too - for me at least.

Because what absolutely blew me away about the other people on the Uganda trip is how inspiring they are - and yet they’re completely unaware of it. They’re smart and creative and funny, and they love them some Jesus like nobody’s business. And because they’re all so totally humble, there was a freedom and an openness in all our conversations that sort of made me want to stand up and tap dance.

I think you’ll be relieved to know that I stifled that particular inclination.

And then to hear everyone talk about the creative outlets they love - songwriting, painting, worship leading, cooking, WHATEVER - well, I can’t even tell you how much it encouraged me.

The last day that we were in Africa, I sat on the balcony of the lodge where we were staying, I looked out at the Nile River, and I bawled my eyes out. I think we all have moments in our lives where it becomes crystal clear that ONLY GOD COULD HAVE DONE THIS THING, and that morning in Uganda was one of those times for me. Even in the midst of wrestling with the emotions that come from witnessing deeply profound poverty firsthand, I was completely overwhelmed by God’s grace. His mercy. His faithfulness.

And - even though I wasn’t expecting it at all - how He used all the people on our trip to show me more of who He is.

I will never get over that.

So last night, I sat at supper with Shaw-awn, Keely and Spence. And we talked about all the normal stuff: families and church and music and blogging and Compassion. We talked about the evil Ugandan stomach parasite that WOULD NOT LEAVE SHAUN AND ME ALONE AFTER THE TRIP, OH MY SWEET DIGESTIVE MISERY, and we talked about the carrot cake that we had for dessert that was really more like a doughnut dipped in butter and then covered with cream cheese icing.

THE CAKE, IT WAS TASTY.

And you know, I held it together really well at dinner, as I typically do in public settings. I held it together really well when we were having coffee yesterday afternoon, too. There was so much stuff I wanted to say, but I was scared that I’d go into the ugly cry, and really, nobody wants to see that.

So instead I had a little conversation with each of them in my head, and the very one-sided conversation went a little something like this: “You have no idea how much I love you. You have no idea how much you inspire me. You have no idea how profoundly grateful I am for the blessing of your friendship.”

That’s what I wanted to say.

And you know what?

I guess I just did.

A couple of weeks ago I received an email from a sweet person who reads my blawg pretty frequently. “You’ve seemed different,” she wrote, “since you got home from Africa. And I just want you to know that I’m praying for you.”

Oh, interpeoples. That email touched my heart right down to my liver.

Because I am different. There’s no doubt about that. But the problem is that I haven’t had any idea what to do with the different, so I’ve responded around by just sitting around and thinking about it.

A lot.

And just FYI: periods of great introspection do not exactly lend themselves to cranking out blog posts that pass for some semblance of witty, kicky fun.

Which has left me in a bit of a bloggy pickle.

And so, if I’m being completely honest, I’ve felt a little disconnected from the blog for the last couple of months. And I’ve given myself a hard time about the fact that I’m not exactly sure how to live and write in that tension, in that place where my heart aches for the despair and the poverty in third world countries while I sit in my central air conditioning and work on my laptop and drink diet Coke while I wait for my husband to walk in the door with a big bucket of fried chicken.

I’ve felt a little bit frustrated, to say the least.

Well.

A couple of days ago Alex and I were running some errands, and he asked me if we could go to Johnny Rocket’s for supper. I explained that we were cooking hamburgers on the grill that night, an announcement that was met with no small degree of displeasure. “BUT MAMA,” he said, “I LOOOOOVE Johnny Rocket’s. I think we should eat THERE.”

And even though I said I would NEVER do such a thing, I totally pulled the Africa card on my five year-old. I’ll spare you a repeat of my speech, but you can probably imagine the bullet points: children starving, children without meat, children without restaurants, children without choices where food is concerned, children who are grateful for God’s provision even if said provision doesn’t look or taste like what they’d hoped for.

Then I turned up the music so that I could silently convince myself to STOP TALKING, JUST STOP IT WITH THE TALKING, THE CHILD IN THE BACKSEAT IS ONLY FIVE AND PROBABLY COULD HAVE DONE WITHOUT THE LECTURE.

Alex was quiet for a few minutes, and then he said, “Mama? Mama? I think we should say a prayer for those children in Africa. I think we should say a prayer for the children who don’t have enough food. Can we do that, Mama?”

And once I picked up my heart and put it back in my chest, we did just that. We prayed for those children.

There were a lot of things about that moment in the car that struck me. If you’ve ever loved a child, you could probably rattle off a list that mirrors mine. But the thing that absolutely blew me away is that Alex DID SOMETHING with the information I’d shared with him. He listened, he thought, he prayed. There was no angst, no second-guessing, no strategizing.

He didn’t wait until he’d had some grand vision or had configured some master plan. He just acted on what he’d heard. And he taught his mama a thing or nine in the process.

So today, I follow his lead.

Right now, on Compassion’s website, there are eight orphans in third-world countries who need sponsors. For $32 a month – which is about what it would cost a family of four to go out to dinner – you can take care of that child. Your $32 will provide medical care, vaccinations, school fees, nutritional needs and – THIS IS HUGE – give that child countless opportunities to hear the Gospel. Through your sponsorship of one of these eight children, you can rescue a child who doesn’t have a mother or father from poverty.

Tuyishime, Caroline (just sponsored! yay!), Adera, Natnael (just sponsored! yay!), Nairesiai (just sponsored! yay!), Selina (just sponsored! yay!), Nevine (just sponsored! yay!), and Asnaku (just sponsored! yay!) are waiting.

And I don’t know about you, but I think it would be pretty cool if we stepped up and changed their lives today.

Just click on their names if you’d like to help.

Thanks in advance for what you’re going to do.

And thanks, Alex, for the lesson.

This post by David Kuo is absolutely beautiful.

And p.s. - Unrelated to Africa, but this post of Carlos’ made me cry.

Yes.

To every single bit of it.

And you can read it right here.

Several of you have emailed me to ask what, if anything, makes Compassion International different from World Vision.

My friend Shaw-awn has a most informative, eloquent answer.

And you can read it right here.