Your life is a series of Choices

Martha was excited to host Jesus. A very important guest. A Rabbi. Everything had to be just right. She drew up a menu and assigned roles in her mind. She ensured the guests were seated, their feet were washed. They had light refreshments. All was going well till she sent Mary to serve the guests.

Martha had many things coming at her that day. Hosting a big number of guests can do that to you. There is only so much you can achieve alone. There is also only so much you can achieve through very excited others. Little things begin to pile. You cannot find a certain table cloth. The person you sent to borrow one from your neighbor heard yellow when you specifically mentioned cream. The caterer’s truck or maybe donkey breaks down and will not move. The wood is wet! Or power goes as you place that roast in the oven.

When the many things came, Martha became anxious. Nothing was going according to plan. This was not good! She began to fret. She was troubled.

But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.”

Luke 10:41-42 ESV (emphasis mine)
Photo Credit: Pinterest

Mary also had many things come at her. She was also hosting guests at her home. When she entered the room to serve the guests, she heard Jesus teach His disciples. She observed how they sat listening to Him. His words were warm and comforting. They made her heart lighter. The bustle in the kitchen was no longer important. This moment here had to last. She could not pull herself to leave the room.

She was not anxious.
She was not troubled.

She chose to sit and listen to Jesus. Jesus called it the good portion.

Moments. Life is a collection of moments. A moment is a result of a choice. You can choose one moment over another. You can reject one moment over another. Life may seem to roll on and at you, but with each roll you have the power to choose. It is never taken away.

Have you caught yourself too busy with getting things done for Jesus? It is never that serious. Selah. Breathe. Look at the stars, remember who is that called you.
Have the things of this world consumed you? The soaring prices, the never ending deadlines, the endless quest to make it in life. Selah. Pause. Look around you. Listen for the birds. Watch the leaves bristle.
Have you become troubled by all the suffering in this world? Selah. Take a seat. Go back to Calvary. Take in the cross. Take in the blood that Jesus shed. Take in His choice in Gethsemane.
Are you anxious about tomorrow? Selah. Turn back. Return to the stronghold of hope. God is your refuge.

Every day of your life, you can choose the good portion.

Sit and listen to Jesus.

It will not be taken away from you. ❤️

Henna Blossoms in the Vineyard

Bees. I watched a movie about bees as a young girl that put the fear of bees into my heart. Because those bees were genetically morphed into killer bees. The swarm of bees was a destroyer, they killed every living thing in sight. How terrifying. In my short life, my memories of bees have been to point me in the direction of sweet, aromatic and beautiful flowers.

14 My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blooms In the vineyards of En Gedi.

Song of Solomon 1:14 NKJV

This beautiful text has held my attention, as an image of luxury. Flowering vineyards would already attract so many bees. Imagine with me scent of grape vines in blossom, and how the air is filled with expectation. The humming of the bees as the move around enjoying the nectar and pollinating the flowers.

This vineyard is near a waterfall, En Gedi. Such a luscious place.The sound of a cascading waterfall. En Gedi is the last fresh water spring before one reaches the Dead Sea. The place is bursting with life in a place close to death.

Somewhere in there, henna blossoms. Henna is commonly used as a dye for human art and hair. Its blossoms are beautifully soft and scented. Not as strong as grape blossoms but strong enough to attract insects.

Why would she describe her beloved in this manner? Because she has found the one whom her soul desires. I recall being sold the story about finding a soul mate. At the time, it seemed credible and plausible but not quite. Your soul wants many things. It has your emotions, it has your mind and it has your will. Most times, these three especially for a woman do not agree. Case in point is chocolate fudge cake. Your mind knows that moment on the lips will be a life time on the hips. Your emotions do not agree at all, because well, chocolate fudge cake is just melts on your tongue-like how good does chocolate have to taste. Your will depending on what time of the day and events may assent to the mind’s suggestion and help you wolf down the cake in the fastest time possible. Or allow you to savor it, forkful by forkful. But for this little conundrum, a mate would suffice.

Her beloved was not just one way and never another. He was henna blossoms- attractive, appealing and pleasing to her eyes. The promise of fruitfulness is held in the Vineyard. It is tended and cared for, not for it’s beauty but,its ability to produce grapes. There is loads of activity, pleasant activity. He smells good, yes. And even though, death may be round the corner, he is refreshing and nurturing. A cool,refreshing drink on any day.

Mates just don’t cut it for this. And it may be possible to find this person, but ultimately, Solomon brings us to Jesus Christ. Jesus is the only One who can fully satisfy your soul. Jesus knows everything about you, the good, the bad and the ugly, and He still loves you. Jesus became man so He could take your place in death. His words can bring healing to all the crevices of your soul, no matter how hidden and how dark. Need I add, that He was the Word in the Beginning. So, He is the One we all yearn for.

If you are longing for a luxurious life, the one you do not escape from, Jesus is your cluster of henna blossoms in the Vineyard of En Gedi. He restores your soul. (Psalm 23:3)

Advent 2020: Living in the shadow of Death

The Christmas season started early at my home. My husband and sons decided that November 1st the Christmas tree should come up, and up it went. It’s been a long year. We have been locked down at home since March experiencing the ‘new normal’, why shouldn’t the Christmas traditions change?

The new normal brought with it, a lot more quiet. A restrictive quiet. A solitary confinement quiet. A naughty corner quiet. The infamous SOPs- wear a mask, sanitize frequently, temperature checks and curfew have made a quick dash to the market or grocery store so inconvenient. The social distance that needs to be maintained at public gatherings means I cannot share jokes with my neighbors, there are no more hugs and handshakes, it’s not fun anymore. I have spent more time online and in quiet nooks looking for the best network signal than anywhere else. Very introverted but it became the perfect setting for the reflection of Advent and revisiting the Christmas story.

When I first heard of the coronavirus, it was a bug like flu somewhere in China and everyone was wearing masks. China seemed so far away, so distant, totally unrelated to my equatorial corner of sub-Saharan Africa (we are not even in the same hemisphere) and so much less to my own environment. Then the devastation began, with lockdowns and massive death counts. As I was reviewing material for a Sociology lesson, a CNN interview of nurses from one of the worst hit nursing homes in Washington state, I began to observe the devastating toil the disease had on emotions of the nurses and families. To observe through a glass darkly, the effects of quarantine and the immediate need for ventilators. My niece, Keitangaza who passed away on 28th December 2017, needed a ventilator to breathe and there was none available. This took my breath away for a moment. When it hit the Octogenarians in Italy and wiped them out like a plague, the number counter became a siren wail. Uganda still has a very young population but my parents’ generation, most of them are Octogenarians. It was too close for comfort, anxiety set in and an overwhelming sense of helplessness. Then it came for us, Uganda managed to contain the deaths and spread. With the gradual reopening, it has come close to home. I know people who have had it and survived and I know people who have had it and died. Such terror and distress.

While reading the Matthew and Luke’s elaborate details of the Birth of Jesus, it soon became apparent that our ‘Christmas spirit’ as portrayed in most of the Christmas movies is slightly off the mark. Actually, if the Christmas movies had been set in 2020, they would have been so on point.

And they came with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the Babe lying in a manger. Now when they had seen Him, they made widely known the saying which was told them concerning this Child. And all those who heard it marveled at those things which were told them by the shepherds.

Luke 2:16-18 NKJV

The shepherds, were going about an ordinary day’s work, in a season where Augustus Caesar had ordered a census throughout the Roman Empire. Every man had to go back to his home town. Israel was an occupied territory, and so Bethlehem as one of the towns of Judah must have been packed with so many long lost relatives, Romans, transit travellers, yet the shepherds did not have time for chit chat. They were tending their sheep in the field. God, in His wisdom, found it very important to send a host of angels to these busy men. Not the innkeeper who turned Mary and Joseph away, and not to the Romans who were conducting the census. Rather to shepherds, forgotten like David.

The shepherds, left their sheep and rushed to the place the angels told them and found Jesus lying in a manger. This was exactly what the angels had said they would find. They rejoiced to find the Messiah and shared the news widely. How exciting it must have been to see the Word incarnate.

Christmas is the Season to rejoice for those who like the shepherds have received Jesus as their Savior and Lord- we have received peace and goodwill. Tis the Season to make widely known the good news, ‘the Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want even in the valley of the shadow of death because ‘our the Christ (the anointed one who saves) was born on Christmas day.’

Later, as a child, Jesus is visited by the Wise Men. These Wise Men make a long journey following a star to worship Jesus. In Jerusalem, where they stop, no one had paid attention to the very same star and no one had heard the news from Bethlehem. The Wise men were warned by an angel not to go back to Herod. And Joseph was instructed to take his family to Egypt by an angel. After the visit, the young family had to flee to Egypt by night. And Bethlehem experienced grief like none other, was it not the Messiah they rejoiced to receive? All their young males under the age of two, were massacred by Herod. The heart gripping pain of losing a young child senselessly, who would console them?

Then Herod, when he saw that he was deceived by the wise men, was exceedingly angry; and he sent forth and put to death all the male children who were in Bethlehem and in all its districts, from two years old and under, according to the time which he had determined from the wise men.

Matthew 2:16 NKJV

Within the Christmas carols is one about Good King Wenceslas, who looked out on the Feast of Stephen. Traditionally, that would be today, Boxing Day. Stephen was one of the seven men ‘of good reputation, full of the Holy Spirit and wisdom’ appointed to handle the Church business so the Apostles could continue with the Ministry of the Word and prayer. (Acts 6).

And Stephen, full of faith and power, did great wonders and signs among the people.

Acts 6:8 NKJV

For all this glowing tribute from Dr. Luke, Stephen is the first Christian martyr. He was falsely accused for blasphemy and even when the Council saw his countenance as one of an angel, and were cut to the heart by his words, they did not receive Jesus as the Christ and stoned him death in Jerusalem. His death was witnessed by a young Pharisee named Saul of Tarsus, who later became Paul, a bondservant of Christ.

How does one move from gorging themselves on so much turkey and rich Christmas cake to a celebration of martyrdom? One does not. Christianity carries within all its celebration, the death and resurrection of Christ. Christianity also carries within all its death, the life of Christ, eternal and glorious. It is impossible to separate Christmas from Good Friday and from Easter. It is impossible to separate the pain and suffering of calvary from the joy of Christmas and the glory of the resurrection.

It is in beholding the lamb of God, swaddled in remains of priestly garb lying in an ordinary manger that we are able to see Him carry our sins at Calvary and then at last like Stephen, see the Lion of Judah seated at the Right Hand of the Father.

Lord, thank You that while troubles and pain will come, your tender mercies sustain me through them giving me life and peace. In uncertainty and instability, I choose today to re-anchor my life in Your goodness, Your faithfulness and Your mercy towards me. Amen From Lectio365

Working the works of God

Jesus was speaking to some Jews, according to John, who asked Him this question that always struck me as strange, odd even. It always seemed so out of context. I thought well, Jesus, who is graciousness personified, was being gracious to the askers. What did they mean by working the works of God?

Then they said to Him, “What shall we do, that we may work the works of God?” Jesus answered and said to them, ” This is the work of God, that you believe in Him whom He sent.”

John 6:28-29 NKJV

So there is this series at Worship Harvest #SomeKaMoney, started this August 2020. If you have not listened to it, you can start right here.

Sunday morning, keenly paying attention to the sermon and boom! It hits me that to the Jews, work was their way of extending the kingdom of God. It is why they ask Jesus after he has miraculously fed them, all five thousand of them, how they can work it? Their response to the miraculous was wonder and desire to replicate.

One of my history classes had very inquisitive minds. They did not accept regular answers and always asked why? The lessons were filled with so many seemingly unconnected whys. I decided rather than waste this opportunity, let us delve into the theory of evolution. At which point, of course, with the many whys, they became the several theories of evolution. In order to prepare for the lesson, I also had to really delve so as to sufficiently answer each child’s questions. I read about Darwin’s expedition to the Galapagos islands and his journal entries and drawings of the finches. Suddenly, my world was filled with wonder at the magnificence and greatness and forethought of God.

These finches were spoken into being, (Genesis 1:20-23) on the fifth day. Not only were they distinguished from eagles, parrots, hens and humming birds by the Word of God. They carried within themselves, the ability to adapt and survive in their different environments. Darwin spent five years observing them, it must have been such a wondrous thing to behold. His observation led him to write his paper, The Origin of Species, which to date has caused quite a stir.

Source: Pinterest

In both instances, Darwin’s and the Jews, the wonder of creation created a desire that got them working. It created a passion that caused them to create. Why then do we separate, our wonder from our work? It is not possible. All work begins with wonder, the possibility of greatness. The possibility of bringing happiness to a soul.

Have you paused to think about why you work? Well Genesis 1, tells us that God paused at the end of each day and saw that His work was good. Is it any wonder then that Peter says of Jesus ‘he went about doing good..’ while speaking at the house of Cornelius. (Acts 10:38). Paul writing to the Ephesians exhorts them and us to remember that we are ‘created in Christ Jesus to do good works’. Paul also writing to the Philippians encourages them that ‘it is God who works in you both to will and to do. God worked because He is good and loves to do good.

Why do you work? And why should you work? Work is our response to the greatness of God. Like the heavens, David writes about, declare the glory of God. (Psalm 19:1). Our work declares the glory of God.


Go home and do the things you love

This was hardly what I had walked into the clinic to hear. I am doing all the things that I love. Passionately so. Surely as a doctor, there should be a pill you could prescribe that could zap my body back into shape.


The legacy I have as a Mukiga woman is one of hardworking and never resting woman. We cram so much into 24 hours, it is amazing. With modern gadgets, it should give you time to rest.


Do mothers ever have a Sabbath? When God set apart the seventh day, did it include mothers?


How is it even possible? Meals to cook, schedules to manage, extended family, laundry piles, careers, hobbies, friends, dreams, hopes. Everything tumbling over, spreading you too thin. Is it ever OK to say, I am resting?


Mary and Martha welcomed Jesus into their home. There is so much to do when guests visit and it has to be done. Food will not cook itself, water will not fetch itself, tables will not lay themselves, beds will not lay themselves, fires will not light themselves, bread will not bake itself. Someone has to do it.


And Martha chose this.

Jesus is here. I have this huge opportunity to sit and learn from him. The Rabbis will not make time for me. He answers all my questions and His words are so refreshing, they water my soul. There is so much to do, but Jesus is better. There is so little time, I choose to connect with Jesus. Is it the better thing?


Mary chose this.

In a world, where we are rewarded and paid based on what we do. As a mother, it is easy to place your premium on performance. It is easy to slip into messianic mode, where everything depends on you. It is easy to bear the weight of the world and comfortably cloak yourself in the label, beast of burden. come to me all you who labour and are heavy laden and I will give you rest. Jesus says in Matthew 11:28. Is this for mothers too?


In Christ, we are called to a place of abiding. To live in Christ. It is a place of daily connection with Christ, a space where He is number one. Where my chief pursuit is Him. Where apart from Him, I can do nothing. Where I am more aware of Christ and His presence and what He is doing than anything else. This is the rest for mothers.


The laundry calls, the meals call, the school calls, the baby calls, the alarm clock calls, the traffic light calls. Jesus is Calling. Jesus is the field of great treasure, will you sell all to keep Him?.

My answer is Yes.

And you did not receive the “spirit of religious duty,” leading you back into the fear of never being good enough . But you have received the “Spirit of full acceptance,” enfolding you into the family of God. And you will never feel orphaned, for as he rises up within us, our spirits join him in saying the words of tender affection, “Beloved Father!”
Romans 8:15 TPT

Living in minor keys

Listen to the music linked into the text (highlighted green or is it blue) for the best reading experience.






Facade; Illusion; Farce; Veneer;


Splashed, Swashed, Smashed,


Scrapped, Stabbed, Scrubbed,


Strangled, Dangled, Fangled,Mangled



Starring, Caring,Daring,Dancing,


Swimming,Winning, Singing, Risking,


Flying, Trying, Crying, Falling


Caring, Sharing, Waiting, Hoping_

Be lived, Be loved.

Only 30kgs allowed

Baggage restrictions are the bane of flight travel. It drains the excitement out of shopping. It has turned packing a suitcase into an art. There was nothing fun about the restrictions, I thought.

Well today, we were studying the Wilderness road with our grade 3s and they had to think about what a man would need to take on that 200 mile long journey. Carved out by Daniel Boone.

One of the boys packed the entire cavalry, he even had a canon just in case. We went back and forth over how many things can be loaded on a horse. He decided he needed an entire pack of horses! He had over twenty items on his list. Clearly, we need to begin some serious hiking in this UG of ours.

It was hilarious, I thought he would never move. Paralysis by analysis. The airlines would have a field day with him, I mused.

He got me thinking about our life though. How we carry around so much of our past, our memories are clogged with so much. We literally need greater horse power to move us each day. All sojourners travel light, the destination is the most important.

St. Paul writes about forgetting what is behind and pressing on to the high calling of Christ.

Forgetting. Forgetting. I may forgive but I will not forget, we pile on our miseries, our misgivings, our failures. Every negative memory. We pile it on layer by layer. We add our trophies, our awards, our memorials, our charms, our heirlooms. Beasts of burden weighed down by memories, we float by through time. soon forgotten.

Lay them down, they belong to a time you no longer live in. They are behind you. The windscreen is bigger than the rear view and wing mirrors. Focus on what is ahead. Set yourself for the present. Look ahead. Stay on the journey. The destination is most important.

Daniel Boone’s 15 year old son was killed in an ambush on the Wilderness road. His death unplanned brought him so much anguish. He paused the trek. He mourned his son privately. But soon it was time to move on to Kentucky. Stephen, full of wisdom, the one who cared for all the widows was stoned to death. James beheaded by a vengeful Agrippa. The apostles kept at it, there was still the world.

Press on. Press on. The pressure will be intense. Parts of your journey will be treacherous. You will lose more. You will hear wild cats, they will cause you anxiety. Press on. You will find great lands filled with bison and deer. Bubbling Brooks with fresh water. Press on. The destination is the most important.

Boonesboro. A beacon of hope. The West is now open to the pioneers.

The high calling of Christ, to love as we have been loved. Let no man owe another except the to love. The debt to love. Love never fails.

Ode to the ‘working’ mother

I have this painting hanging in my room. I had always seen it as two friends walking each with their own agenda. Recently, however, on a very overwhelming day, it dawned on me that this just might be the same lady. It could be me, on any given day.

On becoming a mother, I entered extremely unfamiliar territory (please note that it does not get familiar with time). Each day is a new day to explore and learn new things. You may reference the past but it cannot firmly be used as a basis for anything. So yesterday, the baby slept all through the night. Awesome. Today, we are fascinated by the darkness or the sound of crickets or just purely nothing, the result is the baby will not be sleeping through the night.

I had been raised to get a full eight hours sleep. Did you know that a newborn needs to feed every two hours even at night? I did not know my left from my right. Each day, I was amazed that I was functioning in all my right senses. Without 8 hours of sleep. I had razor sharp reflexes, nothing could fall out of my hands. My senses, I could smell things for miles including diaper deposits.

The exhilarating joy of hearing someone say ‘mummy’. The calmness of seeing your baby asleep. And oh! the happiness of seeing clean linen on the line. It was new every morning.

Then, I had to leave the baby and pick my basket and head to work. The angst, the anguish. The numerous unanswered questions and whatifs? Resisting the urge to pick the phone and call to give some quick instruction.

And the trek back home, through traffic, to breastfeed. Never getting anywhere on time, ‘you just missed the baby. He has slept’. ‘You are late for the meeting again.’ ‘Is this baby going to be a problem to your targets?’

There must be a better way- thank you, thank you Avent, we start expressing milk from the office loos. They were quite clean, if I may add. It was the best they could offer as private. Frozen stocks. Baby is well fed.

Baby falls sick, temperature is rising. Quick dash to the clinic.Thank you Rapha and Keserena for child friendly spaces. Lively colors and colorful thermometers and canulas, temperature is controlled. My boys did not know that injections hurt . they calmly took them and out we went. Thank God for skillful paediatric nurses.

I cannot get time off work to look after the baby. The baby is off the back, the basket is back on the head. The whole drive, ‘I wonder what kind of mother am I?’ ‘Who leaves their sick child?’ ‘What choices do I have?’ I feel boxed in. Choked by the basket’s weight. It is only for a moment. Soon I shall be home, working on each fine detail. Their meals. Their bath time. Their medication. Their bed time. Oooohhhh, I hope I can make it in time for their play time. Then chores and more chores.

Thank God for good nannies who follow instructions. Who care for the baby. Who keep your trust.

Babies have grown into toddlers, they are rumbacious. They love to roam and bring me lovely gifts of dirt, leaves and insects. They are fascinated by the world. The trainnnn, the digggerrr! I can ride on my own. I can slide! I can slide backwards….oopppssss. Cries and laughter mesh together. I learn to cry and laugh at the same time.

Dirtier children. Dirtier clothes. Very nice opinions, just that they somehow are not mine and somehow don’t work with my current time zone. Bedtime wars. Food wars. Potty training wars. Arrggghhh. Picking up the basket is easier now, mummy needs some grown ups around her. Their tears are heart breaking, saying goodbye is not their favorite time. I stick to a routine, I keep a schedule. It makes it easier with time.

I regal in their endless stories, mixed up words. Their new friends at school and their favorite teachers. The time between setting baby down and picking baskets is becoming blurry. Daycare runs mesh with meeting agendas. Meetings with clients mesh with parent teacher conferences. I call my co workers by my son’s name and forget to pay attention when my son calls me. The nights are shorter, the days are shorter. Where did time go?

They graduate to primary school, I am a complete crying wreck. I always thought this graduation from nursery was hogwash. But look at my baby boy,he can read, he is confident on stage, he can sing and dance. Heartfuls of gratitude. The weight of the basket was worth it.Thank you our nursery school teachers who patiently groom our babies, who pamper them into learning.

The journey continues, I still carry the baby and the basket and the pot. Sometimes alone, sometimes with a companion. To all the mothers, Walk On.

Guns…so primitive

I finally visited Wakanda. This is the point at which collars would be pulled up, I would acquire a new bounce in my step and a new accent. très bien!

Not in Wakanda. Walalala! What was that?

I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.

LEWIS CARROLL, Alice in Wonderland

We saw, we conquered, We are coming.

The costumes reminded me of Namasagali plays at the National theatre. The special effects in Black Panther made all the plays come alive. The dances were faster and so were the fights. What a beautiful twist to drama. Yamawe, yamawe!

I found all the Bond movies with a delightful Q who created even more jaw dropping toys! And the intrigue in Bourne Supremacy. There was a bit of Fast and Furious with the ‘Bugattis’. Oh and guess who popped in as well, Shakespeare. And I think Lion King. It was breathtaking.

The way those men honored the women. The respect the women showed the men. Eh eh. Wakanda forever. The jokes between the women are familiar. The responses to death and to crisis reminded me of Olanna and Kainene in Chimamanda Adiche’s Half of a yellow sun. The relationship between the T’Shaka and T’challa. The relationship amongst the leaders. Kithufu nyo

Technology fits within our African chaos, visions of hope that we do not need drastic changes to our environment. More bridges and less barriers. The energy, rhinos, kinetic, vibranium, loads of energy.

The humor, the punchlines are so Ug. And there was Everett, Everett is that guy you bump into and he has no clue. ‘You have that?’ And walks around fascinated by all things African. Asking all sorts of questions to which your teacher would have responded, “common sense” while tapping his forehead. Everett gets off with only a slight telling off, a passing reference to Oz.

Okoye. Selah.

I thank Ryan Coogler for keeping it up there in the league of all other Marvel heroes. Superman with his signature theme song. And the dark batman and his faithful butler.

I pledge allegiance to the King and kingdom of Wakanda, one nation under God, undivided, with liberty , justice and vibranium for all.

Sounds of spears. Sounds of armour as arms crisscross each chest.

The plot does not degenerate into street fights or bitching or good old soul food. It’s classic Marvel. I await the Lois and Clark series nay, T’Challa and Nakia. The story behind the story.

Traffic jam

Traffic jam is efficient,

Cause you remember-

He is Omniscient.

He ain’t mute like a mime,

He is Lord of Time.

Traffic jam is efficient,

You get to be proficient –

In reading books

Or touching up looks.

Traffic jam is efficient,

You are insufficient-

You did not pay attention;

You passed the gas station;

You are running on empty,

You are down to your last twenty.

Traffic jam is efficient,

You did your best,

Maybe it’s time to rest.

Smell the coffee,

Chew the toffee,

He leads you softly

To your trophy.