Now that I’m here at the orphanage, and even as I prepared to come, I have reflected as to exactly how it came to pass that somehow, someway, I ended up in Uganda at the orphanage managed by the Uganda Orphan’s Fund. Just as the river Nile, which has its source close to here, -is made up of a series of tributaries along the way, I guess the ultimate decision to come here was fed by tributaries of my life which ultimately sent me to this remarkable place. I believe my Higher Power led me to take this trip as I can now tell you it has been one of the most profound experiences of my life.
I held no illusions that I would in any way be able to make any major contributions while I was here even if I were to stay for a longer period than the three weeks as scheduled. Rather I am the one who has received many blessings by coming to this place. If you are a friend or in any way support the Uganda Orphan’s Fund, I can tell you that you should be so well pleased with what is transpiring at this place so far away from America.
Everything is about the children themselves as it should be, and what I have seen is clearly God’s work by all involved. These are happy children, seemingly better adjusted in many ways, than our own young people in the USA. The orphanage reverberates with laughter, singing and the sounds of children at play. Make no mistake, there is a great deal of structure in their lives and they have long days that start with morning worship at 5:30 and continues until evening worship is completed somewhere around 8:00. Children have regularly schedules chores and evening homework. I know many of you know these details better than I could describe to you but I would be remiss to not comment on the level of happiness that permeates their attitude about life and their situation. That observation along with the praise they offer to God for their existence are two of my most poignant memories of these beautiful kids.
All of this is occurring amidst an unbelievable level of general poverty in and around this area. I am not particularly well traveled and I do not have expertise in many of the social ills and issues of the world but it doesn’t take any of that to realize that this level of poverty has no margin for the unexpected and nothing can be taken for granted. With that circumstance, the fact that these children are happy, content, moral and well grounded ethically is a testament to faith and love.
We still have one more week and God willing, we will despite our at first, lofty expectations, accomplish a few more tasks aimed at modestly helping either with the operation of the orphanage farm, or at the orphanage itself. I have learned that it is best to be open to life as it unfolds each day here and then help in whatever way possible because with this number of children and with all staff having absolutely more work than can ever be accomplished, -you just take it a day at a time and do what you can.
One short story about myself in this regard brings this point home. One day I was in a rush to find sort through some otherwise intended firewood to find “lumber” that would suffice for a fruit stand that we wanted to build in support of the soon to be, God willing, fertile results of the farm. Anyway, I was greeted by one of the cooks who was standing just outside his “home/apartment” as I hurriedly walked by. He asked me how I was and offered the customary handshake. He said I looked as though I had a worried mind and then invited me to see the inside of his home. –Just as you or I would invite a visitor into our homes. The thing is, his “home” was maybe 8 feet by 10 feet. It contained NO furniture except for two beds. He shared the area with another of the cooks. It was spotless and he had pride that he literally had a roof over his head and an actual bed to sleep in. There were no cooking facilities, and of course no water, restroom, etc. Just four walls and a little radio that he was honored to own. That he would offer to have this stranger (me) the comfort of his home was lesson enough. But I’m sure he knew that he somehow needed to reach out to this foreigner who obviously was making way too much out of the routine challenges of a day in Uganda. Again, I was the one blessed by my experience here at the orphanage.
It would certainly not be normal to not be thinking of the joyful return to my family and friends a week out from now. In fact Thanksgiving is not far off. I know that God willing, as I sit down at a Thanksgiving dinner with family I will definitely be thinking of this country and the orphanage. I will love both now forever more. This trip has had that kind of effect on me. And while one of the lessons as mentioned above, is to truly just live a day at a time, I can’t help but be very emotional thinking about saying good-bye to those kids and the staff. I’d like to be a tough guy and not show the emotion that already has started to work on my mind thinking about that good-bye. I expect instead there will be “leaking eyes” as I’m overcome by the love, respect and admiration I have for these amazing kids and staff.
May God bless these kids and everyone who is working with such passion to literally keep them alive, and afford them the opportunity to grow up and glorify their Creator by the way they will choose to live their lives.
Howard Lemm











The story behind it all was far more interesting. The boll weevil made its way to Alabama from Mexico in 1915. In those days, farming was the economy, and cotton was its cash cow. By 1918, farmers were losing entire crops to the beetle. A man named H. M. Sessions saw the insect plague as an opportunity to convert the area’s produce to peanut farming. He convinced another farmer to back his venture. Their first crop covered all their debt, and others farmers swiftly followed suit. Later on cotton was planted again but a shift had occurred: Farmers diversified their crops, and that change brought prosperity to their county. Bon Fleming, a local business owner, had the idea to build the monument. He recognized how something disastrous can actually serve as a catalyst for change.