04:51 AM
The rooster finally crowed.
I had been awake since 4:00 AM, just lying there waiting for that sound. It’s funny how something so simple can feel so important. When I heard it, I smiled. Another day here. Another day I get to be part of this.
I stepped outside while it was still dark. The air was cool and damp, and everything felt so still. I just stood there for a minute. So far from home…and yet I’ve never felt more certain that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. I thanked God quietly. I thought about the little girl I used to be, the one who wanted to do something meaningful, something that mattered. I wish she could see this.
We made our peanut butter sandwiches and packed a few snacks for the day. It wasn’t fancy. But it felt like we were preparing for something important.
05:52 AM
Off we went.
The sun still hadn’t risen, but children were already walking to school in the dark. Just small figures moving along dirt roads, guided by a few dim lights. No complaints. Just walking. It humbled me.
The day quickly turned into motion, voices, organizing, preparing. Everyone moving with purpose.
Today I washed my patient’s feet.
I didn’t expect it to hit me the way it did. As I knelt down, I felt so small in the best way. So aware. So present. There was something deeply sacred about it. Not dramatic. Not loud. Just quiet love.
I kept thinking about Jesus washing His disciples’ feet. Choosing to serve. Choosing humility. And there I was, thousands of miles from home, doing the same simple act. It felt like worship. It felt like love in its purest form. I had to hold back tears.
If I’m not in PACU, the team already knows I’ve probably slipped away to the “little people” ward. Moses showed me the twins who were admitted for malnutrition. Both under 4 pounds. Around 4–5 months old. No one even knows their exact age. They weren’t found with their biological mother.
Holding one of them… I can’t explain it. She was so tiny. So fragile. And yet so alive. So fighting.
I got to help place an IV and feed her. Looking down at her little face while she ate — I felt my heart stretch in ways I didn’t know it could. It hurt and it healed at the same time.
This hospital does so much with so little. It makes you realize how much we have back home. Things we don’t even think twice about. Here, every resource matters. Every ounce of formula. Every glove. Every IV start.
4:00 PM
Moses walked us through the farm behind the hospital. He built it from nothing. He talked about teaching families how to grow their own food, how feeding their home comes first before anything else. His pride wasn’t about money. It was about sustainability. About dignity. That moved me.
We ended the night with dinner, laughter, and conversations about how this place is changing us. You can feel it, this experience is doing something deep inside all of us.
And of course, no Uganda day is complete without fútbol. Watching the media crew and Roosevelt play, hearing everyone laugh… it felt light and joyful.
I’m exhausted tonight. But it’s the kind of exhaustion that comes from pouring yourself out.
And somehow, even though my body is tired, my heart feels more alive than ever.
