Mike Foster over at Ethur, which heads up a few smaller groups, put together a calendar for the Junky Car Club. Junky Car Club members are learning to live with less so they can give more. They’re a bunch of happy drivers who are politely rebelling against consumerism by driving junky cars (excerpt from junkycarclub.com). The calendar is $12 and features 12 members and their cars. 100% proceeds from the sales go to the Corps Of Compassion.

The Corps of Compassion currently delivers food to over 700 homeless and at risk children in 14 schools every single weekend through their backpack program in Las Vegas. Currently, there are over 4000 homeless and at risk children living in the Las Vegas area.

You can go here to view the entire calendar layout and here if you so wish to purchase it.

I personally like Jeremy Cowart’s photograph and Drew and Nancy’s spread.

Fezzik, my beloved Honda, and I made guest appearances in the month of May. He sends his warmest regards.

[Over the course of two weeks I will have traveled 10,000+ miles via planes, trains, and yes, automobiles. Tennessee to Virginia to New Jersey to the Czech Republic to Austria to Slovakia to home. Many photographs to be taken, stories to be shared, and ideas to express that have been changing the way I live. Please, if you will, travel with me. It will be good for both of us.]

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REVO was a huge success. The group that pulled it off put so much effort into it to get all of the resources together. They ended up raising $6000 on the dot for Blood:Water Mission, which is, if you can believe it, the exact amount it takes to dig a well in Africa for an entire community. I was humbled to get to be involved in the show. Hundreds of people came from around TN, numerous bands played, Phil Wickam did an incredible acoustic set, Jedidiah Clothing Co. had a fashion show, and I ended up selling 3 prints to raise a little money for the cause.

Right when I walked into the venue I was immediately glad that I had driven the 6 hours to get to Franklin. There was a humility amongst the people there that was very encouraging. I was cautious to go to the event for a few reasons, but one of them was that I wondered whether it would be more of a social networking deal than anything else. Turns out I was wrong. People there were very authentic. A few people who work at Blood:Water were there as well, including Jena, the exec. director.

Is that a suitcase behind those easels? Odd.

The girl above is one of the three people who bought one of my prints.
All of the money went to Blood:Water Mission.

That group did a brilliant job. I was honored to be a part of the benefit. I’m working on a few of them to move out to Seattle with me *cough Shultsie. I didn’t know what to expect when I walked into the venue, but I was greeted by people who were not out to make their own names great, but rather to advance the Kingdom. That is something I can get behind. Our names will fade, so what’s the point in trying to make them known? But the name of the King will be shine throughout eternity, and that is what I will work to make known. May we decrease and may He increase.

Back to the road. Fezzik is a tough Honda. To Virginia!

REVO is a movement to inspire change through the arts. They are holding a benefit in the Nashville area for Blood:Water Mission on April 20th at the Factory at Franklin/Building 8.

Blood:Water Mission exists to promote clean blood and clean water efforts in Africa, tangibly reducing the impact of the HIV/AIDS pandemic while addressing the underlying issues of poverty, injustice and oppression. They are striving to build clean water wells, support medical facilities, and focus on community and worldview transformation, both here in America and in Africa.

Some of my photography is getting auctioned off at REVO to raise money for Blood:Water. It’s a complete honor to be a part of something like this. At first I wasn’t going to be able to make it to the event myself, but this week I decided to change some former plans and make the trip down to Nashville for the benefit. I’m still trying to decide which prints to take and what sizes/mediums on which to print them. You can get more info for the event here and here. More info for Blood:Water here and here.
If you’re in the Nashville area (read: Memphis, Chattanooga, Tennessee, Kentucky, Montana, Malaysia) then you should come and hang out. I’d love to meet you. Also you should totally buy one of my photographs to raise money for Blood:Water. I get 0% of the money, so spend your entire allowance. It’s for a great cause and you and I will be bff. f. f. I don’t even know what that means.

Phil Wickham will be at the benefit, and he’s quite amazing. Jeremy Cowart is displaying some canvas prints. Quite a few other local artists/musicians/photographers/bearded vagabonds who don’t fit in will be at the event. I’m not familiar with the other people on the banner above, but I’m sure they are lovely people who create lovely music and art. And I hear they are expecting quite a large turnout, so you should come. You should also bring cookies. And milk. And we’ll eat them together.

Let me know if you’ll be at the event. It’d be great to meet up.

Over 90 packs of Polaroids were sent to me via snail mail in response to this post. On my recent trip to Uganda I wanted to give the kids at the orphanage I was staying at as many Polaroids as I could, but my resources were limited. I asked people to send me a pack of 10 Polaroids, and in return I would give away 9 photographs to 9 orphans and bring one back to the States to mail to the person who donated the photos. The response was tremendous and humbling.

My friend Ben and I ended up giving about 700 Polaroids to kids and teachers and parents and we left the remaining Polaroids and a camera with our friend who lives there at the orphanage so she could distribute the remaining ones. I wish you could have seen the reactions of those kids.

The following are the Polaroids I brought back with me and have recently sent out in the mail to those who contributed. I wish to thank all of you who gave the photographs. The kids loved them and the staff at the orphanage was overwhelmed at the gift. I hope you know the eternal impact that you have made. It would not have been possible without you, so again, I thank you. You can click the individual Polaroids for a better viewing experience.

My father and I were at the orphanage standing near the primary school in the middle of Uganda. He looked over at me and asked Who do you think is better off: kids at the best prep school in NYC or kids here at New Hope?

I didn’t even have to answer, because

the less you have, the better off you are.

Hadija hadn’t been introduced to him yet. He’d been there the whole time, it’s just that she was unaware of it.

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A few men in Uganda were walking down a road and heard what sounded like a cat, except that they heard it coming out of a 40 foot deep pit, and even more specifically, a latrine. They reported it to local probation officer and it was commissioned to the fire brigade to go down and retrieve the cat. Not a fun job for anyone to do, but it was ordered, so it had to be done.

When they went down 40 feet into the latrine they started to hear a change in the sound of the cat. Something was not right. Not familiar. Or maybe too familiar. Down. Down. Down. Closer to the sound. Closer. Closer.

And then there she was.

Her umbilical cord was still attached. How long had she been down here? Who would do this to a baby girl? A 40 foot pit full of feces? How was she still alive?

She was carried up and out and cleaned off, and to the surprise of everyone, survived. They guessed that she’d been down there at least 3 hours, maybe more.

Two things happened rather quickly. The first is that somehow, through word of mouth from the villagers, they discovered that her mother was a 19 year old girl named Hadija. A teenager. Single. She had taken her very newborn baby and dropped her down that 40 foot latrine to die, and now she was sentenced to 5 years in prison in Luzira, Uganda’s highest security prison for attempted murder.

The other thing that happened was that the baby was sent to New Hope, an orphanage and school in Kasana, Uganda. New Hope has over 100 orphans living on its grounds as well as over 300 more area kids and orphans from surrounding villages that come to them for schooling and water every day. It is a trusted place by the government in many regards, and this is where the decided that the little girl should go to live.

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And now allow me the honor of introducing you to Jonnes and Gertrude Bakimi.

Jonnes has more life in his body than I’ve ever seen in another single human being. He breathes in God wherever he goes. You can feel it, deep within your soul. When he walks into a room he brings joy. When he tells stories you feel as though he had just experienced it that morning. He is so animated and so full of love that you swear he doesn’t exist, that he has to be either an angel or some mythical unicorn that is heard of but never seen.

Maybe not the unicorn part. I don’t know where that came from.

Jonnes and Gertrude had 10 children under their roof, a mix of some of their own and some adopted. Raising children is a very big part of both of their lives. So Jonnes was kind of suprised, but not really, when his kids asked if they could have the new little girl that had just been brought from an latrine to the orphanage. They’d been bringing her home from the baby house every Sunday or so to play with her and nurture her.
His kids ask for the little girl in the same way that most kids ask for a puppy.

Can we keep her? Can we? Can we? Pleeeeeeeeaaaassssseee?!

And this has become normal for them. This is the kind of family they have become and it is a life that they have embraced. Jonnes knew the story of the little baby but he didn’t think that they could handle a newborn right now. They already had 10 children (Joshua, Joanna, Jordana, Joseph, Jonnie, Judith, Eva, Lyn, Angel, and Fatuma), so it is not as if their hands weren’t full already, aside from helping run an orphanage and a school.

But Jonnes felt a nudge. A tug. Maybe a push. He knew what he was to do. He was to take this new little girl into his home as a daughter. He would, once again, become a father to the fatherless.

But he did not foresee what the next nudge would be, and it would change his life in a way that he could not have never imagined.

When they decided to take this little girl, whom they named Joy, into their home, Jonnes started to hear from God that he was supposed to go and reconcile the girl to her mother. He was to take her to the prison to see the girl, now 20, who had thrown her away. Jonnes resisted this thought from God at first. How could I take her back? What if she rejects Joy? What if she wants Joy back? These thoughts flooded his mind as he considered what he believed God to be telling him. He talked it out with a few of his close friends and confirmed that this was what he was to do.

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The date came for Jonnes and Gertrude, two of their daughters and a few others to go to the prison to see Hadija. They arrived at the prison but had to wait one and a half hours to see Hadija, which gave them some time to learn about her from the prison warden. No one, not even the warden, knew why she was there. She had been there for 12 months and had not had one visitor. Not one.

Finally she came out.

20 years old. Slender. Small. Just a girl. Just like a girl from the school at the orphanage. New questions rushed into Jonnes’ mind: Where is the man who made her pregnant? Where is her family and how are they feeling? Did she have anyone to talk to? LORD, please give her another chance!

Hadija knelt down and greeted the group of people who brought her her daughter. Fear filled her eyes. Jonnes introduced himself. He told her that he had brought a gift and that this was forgiveness from her child whom she had thrown away. He told her that on behalf of Joy, they forgave her and loved her. Then he handed her her daughter.

And Hadija wept, unable to speak.

The warden stepped in and said What is happening here? Have you brought bad news? We have to know? Jonnes stepped forward and said,

It is ok. We brought love. We have not brought bad news. We brought love.

Jonnes then proceeded to explain the gospel of Jesus with Hadija, how God had spared Joy’s life as a sign that He wanted to give her a new beginning. He told her that Jesus had the power to take away her past, and Joy’s life was a miracle for her sake. Hadija said that she wanted to know this Jesus and live for him. At that moment heaven came to earth.

Hadija then took her rescued daughter to introduce her to the wardens. They asked if this was truly the reason why she was in prison, and she said that yes, it was. Jonnes said that one of their inmates was a free woman that day, actually more free than many of those outside.

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Jonnes and Gertrude and their group took Joy home that day. Hadija was changed for eternity. Over the next few weeks Jonnes and his family came to a new decision. They were having a difficult time in thinking that, when Hadija got out of prison, that Joy would no longer be a part of their lives, but would be returned to her mother, as Jonnes knew was the full restoration that God had intended. But it came to be that, as a family, they decided to adopt Hadija as well, number 12 in their ever-growing family, to help raise her and raise her daughter. She has a few more years to serve at the prison, but those years will be served with hope.

Today, Hadija has 3 more years left. Joy is 2 and is full of her namesake. Jonnes and his family take Joy to see Hadija as often as they can, and they look forward to the day when the 12th member of their family comes to join them.

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Where are you in this story? Where do you see yourself? Do you see yourself in a pit, longing for and needing rescue? Are you in a prison, surrounded by your own guilt with seemingly no way out? This story is our story as well. All of us are in it somewhere; all of us connect with them somehow.

This is a story of true reconciliation. Of pure restoration. Of a God who longs to rescue His children, whether they are in a pit or in a prison. He longs for reconnection to His creation, no matter what the cost.

One thing I have learned, and I believe this to be true for me now more than ever:

There is a Father to the fatherless.

*When Jonnes told me this story over a long meal one night, I asked him when he finished if I could tell his story. He looked at me with compassion and said “It’s not my story. It’s His.”

There are certain things you never, under any circumstance, want to see on an airplane.

Especially over the Atlantic Ocean.

This list includes, but is not restricted to:

>A wing falling off.
>The pilot jumping out the door (with or without a parachute).
>Samuel L. Jackson
>First class passengers, in general.
>The co-pilot passing out due to the fact that the pilot just jumped out the door (with or without a parachute).
>Stewardesses running down the aisle toward the back of the plane with fire extinguishers in their hands.
>Any member of the runway crew carrying a role of duct tape. (Thanks, Jake.)
>Two people going into one lavatory.

It takes a good bit of time to get from Fort Fun, Indiana to Kasana, Uganda. I love traveling as a whole. I enjoy flying, driving, trains, buses, metros, and even walking from here to the counter across the coffee shop where I’m sitting to get another cup of glory. I love it all. And there is no flight that I do not enjoy, even after traveling 44 hours with still one more 45 minute flight home.

Getting to Uganda was pretty standard except that Coop missed one of our connecting flights by three minutes, so instead of going from Detroit to Amsterdam to Nairobi, Kenya to Entebbe, Uganda he went from Detroit to Paris to Dubai (where he had to spend 9 hours overnight in the airport) to Entebbe. Not a huge deal. These sort of things happen everyday in international travel.

But the following does not.

Our trip home was supposed to take one full day. We flew from Uganda to Amsterdam (Sorry I didn’t get to stop and see you, Ms. Triggs), which took 8 hours. Our next flight from Amsterdam to Detroit was supposed to be about 8 hours as well….

We left Amsterdam and flew for 3 hours well over the Atlantic Ocean. I was really tired but still had enough energy to watch Stranger Than Fiction on my screen in the seat in front of me (a film I do recommend). Sitting there watching Will Ferrell be witty and full of charm I noticed a flight attendant running down the aisle. Then another. Then another. Then one had a fire extinguisher.

Ah.

Right.

Yes.

Of course.

Yes.

Each person on the plane naturally turned around, as this is not something you expect to see nor want to see while moving at 600 mph at 35,000 feet. I’d rather see Samuel L. Jackson, but not by much.

The captain came on the intercom quickly and said *crackle Errr..This is your captain speaking. I’m sure you all noticed a bit of a disturbance in the back of the plane. No need to worry, folks. Just a little trouble in the galley. We’re going to proceed as normal. No need to be alamred. *crackle

Relief flooded over…..the entire plane no one.

About 5 minutes later: *crackle Um, yes. This is your captain again. We’ve noticed a little smoke in the back galley coming from one of the ovens and we’re going to need to turn around and head back to London. Still no need to worry. Our administration on the ground says we need to take every precaution for your safety so we’re going to redirect and land in Gatwick for a service crew to come on board to check things out. We’re very sorry for the inconvenience. We apologize. This won’t take long at all. Still no need to worry. *crackle

Yes. This won’t take long. These sorts of things are always taken care of in a very timely manner.
So we pulled a subtle u-turn over the Atlantic and headed back another few hours back to to Gatwick in London. We spent 3 and a half hours on the runway while men in yellow jackets showed up on the plane with much authority to check out the oven. I was hoping for Jamie Oliver, the Naked Chef from the Food Network. I figured that he would know a lot about ovens and that maybe he’d make us a little dish so that the plane would smell nice.

Instead the plane started to smell like people. MMmmm.

After 4 hours we finally got back in the air for still another 6 hour flight to Detroit with yet another flight from Detroit to Fort Wayne which we were in no way going to catch.

Midway over the ocean while I was watching Mr. and Mrs. Smith (Hey Brad. Thanks for reading. We should hang out.) the captain, in all his grandeur, came on the intercom once again.

*snap crackle This, once again, is your captain. We’re sorry for the delay (YEAH WE GET IT) in your travels. Turns out that the flight crew on board our aircraft is reaching its time limit allotted in the sky and we’re going to need to redirect to Boston to refuel and recrew the plane. We’re sorry but it’s air travel regulations. We apologize for all your delays. It won’t take long (HA) to get into Boston and get right back in the air. We are very sorry for your trouble. Thanks for being patient. *pop

We got to Boston, sat on the runway for over and hour, ate some pretzels (’cause if you want to smooth over a plane full of people who have been traveling for 16+ hours, give them an itty bitty bag of pretzels), and then finally took off for Detroit.

All in all I think they apologized for the inconvenience about 3,656 times, give or take. Mostly take. We were on that particular plane, which was supposed to be an 8 hour flight, for a total of 19 hours. Our 24 hour trip home ended up taking 44 hours. I smelled awesome.

Right before we got into Detroit on that ridiculous flight the head stewardess came on the intercom and reminded all of the passengers, with a silly happy overtone, to “remember to book your next flight at nwa.com!”

The whole plane laughed out loud.

Honestly, I have absolutely no idea where to begin this conversation. I have been sitting here in front of my glowing screen wondering just how I start to convey the journey that i have just experienced in Africa. I have so much to share with you. Thoughts. Photographs. Polaroids. Stories. Polaroids. Ideas.

It’s a daunting task.

I think for now I’ll add a few short thoughts and photographs:

ºThe kids absolutely loved the Polaroids. It was more of a success than you can realize. The couple that runs the orphanage and school and the entire staff were so thankful. Kids came up to me and Ben all week to thank us for the white-borders of memories we gave them. All in all I think Ben and I took and gave approximately 700ish away to individual kids/parents/teachers. At the end of the trip I only had 13 packs left out of the original 86. I gave them, along w/ a camera, to Jennie who lives there and works with the kids. She sends her deepest thanks. So do I.

ºTWWL is back up and kicking. Thanks to those of you who frequent the site. Honestly the site is more for me than it is for you. Sorry, but it’s true. It forces me to a.) be consistent with something and b.) keep taking photographs. It’s a very good habit. If you have a photography portfolio/blog online then I’d love to know of it. (Sidenote: I’m on VIRBº and Flickr with my photography as well. You should be too. We should be friends. Not the real kind of friends, but the interweb kind. The only kind.)

ºI will be scanning and sending out all of the Polaroids this week that I took while in Uganda. If you sent me a pack then be looking for those in the mail soon. I will post all of the Polaroids in one post for our 3rd community photo project. You will enjoy. And maybe cry. A little.

ºA few graphs of photo fame (and there are oh so more to come):

Lots to come in the next days and weeks. I heard a story of reconciliation that is the most amazing story I have ever heard in my entire life. I asked the people involved if they would mind if I shared their story with you. They told me It’s not our story. It’s God’s. Absolutely brilliant. So that plus quite a bit more is coming. You can’t wait. I can feel it. You almost wet your pants a little with excitement. Admit it. It’s ok.