It's the middle of the night and I'm awake. This happens from time to time, especially when I'm careless about drinking caffeine too late in the day!!
This preface isn't the easiest to write. I think it's because I still love New Hope Uganda and don't want to reflect poorly on its ministry or staff. But this is part of my story now. Choices were made--by me and by others--that contributed to my burnout and breakdown. Writing is how I best process, and I'm hoping writing this out will help me gain a deeper level of closure.
Before I dive in, know that August 2016 found me juggling two roles/sets of responsibility: I was serving as both the Assistant Sponsorship Coordinator (since Sept. 2014) and as the Communications Coordinator (since July 2015).
The Heartbreak ~ August 2016
Looking back over the years, I think it started in August 2016. It was at our monthly staff meeting that the bombshell dropped ... we were told that one of the department heads had stepped down or resigned. I clearly remember not being able to stop the tears running down my cheeks even in the middle of the meeting. As soon as I could get home afterwards, I collapsed sobbing on my floor.
My heart was broken over why he had to resign, over the emotional pain his wife must be going through, and over the guilt the enemy tried to whisper into my mind and heart.
I had been close to this family ever since returning to Uganda as an NHU staff member in September 2014. I knew that at their home, I was always welcome to drop in for fellowship and dinner. When a creeper pursued me for a time, it was this uncle* who had helped handle the situation. Their baby was the first I ever felt move inside his mother, and the youngest baby I had ever held. My life was intertwined with theirs, they were my Ugandan family.
I am being vague as to the reasons of their leaving New Hope because I'm trying to tell my story, not theirs. But as one of those looked upon as a young up-and-coming pillar in the community, his resignation was a huge disappointment to many, not just me.
The next month, still somewhat reeling from the personal/emotional fallout, I attended my first NHU Foreign Staff retreat where I finally shared in a group setting how it had impacted me. Then, in October, I traveled to South Africa with two fellow staff ladies for a Thrive retreat/conference, where I continued trying to process the loss.
But my disappointment left me tempted to swear off of such close relationships. As I wrote a couple years ago in another blog post,
"That day I was so tempted to make a vow of sorts—a vow never again to get so close to another family that I would open myself up to that kind of pain. A vow never to trust and admire someone as I had allowed myself to do with him—because such Christian familial love had wounded me deeply.
I thank God that I stopped myself from making that decision. I knew it was the wrong decision—a decision that would let the enemy win. And so I continued to grow in relationship with many other sisters and couples. But that wound still aches when I think of it. I think I allowed that and other things which began developing around the same time to plant a seed of hopelessness in my heart. I did my best to process and forgive….but somehow I think I closed off a little cupboard of bitterness inside my soul."
Right about the same time, there were transitions happening in the U.S. office (called New Hope Uganda Ministries to distinguish it from the Ugandan-based ministry of New Hope Uganda). At the same Foreign Staff retreat I mentioned above, the interim president of NHUM came to Uganda for the first time in his new role.
Without going back through all my old Ugandan Reports or journal entries, recalling all the details now isn't easy. It's also probably not necessary. Let's just say, the U.S. office was wanting to become more actively involved in recruiting sponsors for our NHU kids. At the same time, I was feeling rather out of the loop as the Communications Coordinator. Things would get published and sent out by NHUM about NHU, and only later would I see them at all. {Yes, that's probably just as peevish as it sounds.}
During the same September retreat, I met with the National Director, my supervisor as far as communications and my supervisor's supervisor as far as sponsorship. I told her everything I was doing, and we made the decision that I should stop juggling two roles. I knew I wanted to focus wholly on my responsibilities as Communications Coordinator, because that included writing which is my first love.
Little did I know then it would take a full year for me to get out of the Sponsorship office!
The Furlough ~ April 2017
No, in this case it was not my furlough, but the Sponsorship Coordinator's - from April to August of 2017. Her absence meant that I was solely responsible for:
a) running the sponsorship program for 400+ children in the care of NHU;
b) producing monthly videos, weekly blog posts, and daily Social Media posts for NHUM communications;
c) training my replacement for the Assistant Sponsorship Coordinator position, who had been hired in January 2017;
d) figuring out my own schedule since the National Director was also on furlough, and her stand-in asked me to manage myself;
e) daily life in my host culture, including leading weekly devotions in one of the seven family groups, and being involved in leading two Bible studies;
f) caring for my supervisor's cat (sounds easy, but there was a lot of floor mopping going on).
g) Oh, and I mustn't forget revamping the sponsorship program, i.e., holding meetings every week with the organization's top leadership ... in the absence of the 15-year veteran Sponsorship Coordinator.
And yes, if this comes across as a little whiney and complaining, you're picking up the right vibe. I was overloaded, and I most definitely felt it. But I had my eyes glued on the end of August 2017, when it would be my turn to go for a furlough!!! I felt like I just had to push through a few more months, and then I could crash and rest back home in the States.
Turns out I couldn't make it.
The Mini-Breakdown ~ May 2017
Not more than six weeks after the Sponsorship Coordinator left on her furlough, I had what I now call my mini-breakdown.
The founder of the organization was leading us in weekly times of prayer and fasting, on Tuesdays. Also on Tuesdays were the meetings with the top ministry leadership about making changes to the sponsorship program. Which sometimes led to stretching discussions with my replacement who wasn't completely familiar with New Hope yet.
Tuesdays were tough days.
Then, add on to that 1) our water tank right outside my bedroom window was leaking almost constantly and 2) the maintenance team wanted to scrape and repaint the ceiling of my bedroom, my only private space since I shared a house with three Ugandan sisters. The latter was supposed to happen on a Monday, so I had prepped everything for them - covered things, pulled things out into the hallway, etc. etc. because I didn't want paint chips/dust in my stuff. My bed was covered with things I had picked up off the floor. It was all ready.
And they forgot to send the painters in.
So that night I slept on a foam couch "cushion" on the cement floor rather than uncovering my bed all over again. And the next day they actually did come!
So Tuesday evening, I was told my room was done.
I remember so well walking through the door of my room, looking at the paint smears on my floor and the trash left behind in the corner, and being instantly angry. So angry.
I forced myself to take a shower to try and clear my mind. I hated myself for how angry I was! And by the end of my shower, I was on the cement floor crying. I couldn't seem to get a hold of myself, to stop crying, to move on.
Eventually, the Holy Spirit dragged me to a friend's compound (yard). I didn't want to go talk to anyone, I didn't want to show my weakness. But I knew that's what I needed. Every step of the way to the Britton's home, I wanted to turn around and go back. Even after I was standing in their yard, I thought I could still sneak back away ... but ... "Hello?" - Geoff had heard or seen me.
So in I went, still on the verge of tears - interrupting the end of a dinner they were having with another couple from elsewhere in Uganda. But Mary graciously took me back to her bedroom, heard my tale of woe, comforted me and prayed for me.
It was a week before I slept in my own room again because of the smell of paint.
And that was the foreshadowing of my emotional/mental troubles which would rear their heads again the following year.
This song fits this post, both because it is in Luganda, but also because even through all the struggles of that year, God is faithful.
No comments:
Post a Comment