A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

On Thursday (12^th) we went to a community in Ogur. This is close to Baarylonyo, and if you google this you will read about a massacre that occurred here from the LRA (Lord’s Resistance Army). We were greeted with waving palm branches, singing and dancing from the children and mothers. Africans LOVE to sing and dance and I truly believe this is how they heal. Many of the kids sang for us and it appeared that they wrote their own lyrics about the pain that they have been through, yet how they have survived.

We met with about 50 kids/youth and some child-mothers. All of these children fit the target population that Children of Peace Uganda work’s with. Former child soldiers, abducted, born in captivity or child mothers. We split them up into different age groups and began relationship building through games, songs and dance!

I had the teenagers and we did a few drama games and then we did the “lighthouse” activity (you can read about this in an earlier post).

God then had some plans that I was not prepared for. Our time with them on this day was supposed to be nothing more than just getting to know them and to get familiar with one another before we start the peace clubs with them. We had a little bit of time left and so we had the group come back together. We thought it might be fun to just give them a piece of paper and a marker and have them draw whatever they wanted. I had the translator communicate to them to draw whatever was on their heart.

Their stories came pouring out. I was walking around and as my eyes were glancing at their papers I started seeing guns, villages on fire, rebels, individuals tied up…..and so much more. I began to get a bit nervous because we did not plan for this to happen. We didn’t have the time to sit with each child and talk about what they were drawing. But God had a plan.

I began to stop to sit with a few at a time and ask them what they were drawing. “my village on fire” “watching the rebels kill people” “ here they are tying up all the kids together and placing heavy things on their head to carry” “me holding a gun” “my parents are dead in this picture, I watched them get murdered”…..and the stories kept coming….

I saw a boy (Peter, 16) sitting on the bench staring at his picture. He looked completely lost in it…wrapped up in whatever it was he had drawn. I made my way over to him. I asked him if he would be willing to share with me what he drew. Tears immediately starting welling up in his eyes. He shared about how he was remembering how the children were taken from their homes. Then, he pointed to a picture of a rebel pointing a gun at a mother and her baby. I asked him who that was. He replied “that’s me”….as more tears began streaming down his face. My heart was breaking and I found myself struggling to keep my own tears from pouring out.

He wanted prayer. Prayers of forgiveness. He told me he felt so bad and wondered if God would ever forgive him for what he did. I no longer held my tears in. I wept with him. I held him and prayed with the strength and power of Jesus Christ. I found myself taking the greatest pain in my own life that I have experienced and multiplying that by about 100….to try and understand. It is too great. Too great for me or for you or for him, Peter….but not too great for our God.

Peter and I

As we left our time there, we were escorted out with…can you guess?? Singing and dancing. God sees them. There is no therapy intervention that could bring ultimate healing to these children. The trauma is so severe. Yes, they can learn some skills and we will teach them those skills and different ways to express their pain and their stories. But only God can put their broken heart back together. Only God can turn their memories of terror into beauty. Only God.