When Momma Susan opened her door and welcomed me into her home that day, I had no idea I was stepping into something sacred. She'd gathered her family for prayer, but her heart was bigger than her living room—soon neighbors were trickling in, drawn by the warmth and love that seemed to radiate from her home.

Then I saw her—a young mother clutching her one-year-old daughter close to her, worry in her eyes. As she shared through tears about her baby's frightening episodes—the shaking, the way her little girl would go limp and lifeless afterward—my heart broke for this mama's fear. I recognized those devastating signs immediately.

"Could we pray for your daughter?" I asked gently, and watched as hope flickered in her eyes.

What started as a prayer for one precious child became something beautiful—we found ourselves lifting up every little one in that housing unit, our voices joining together in prayer.

Weeks later, when I called Susan to check in, her voice was filled with joy.The seizures stopped! And you should see this baby girl now—she's thriving! In that moment, I was reminded once again of the incredible Love of God.

After equipping our new church plant family with the tools to share God's love, we stepped out together into the heart of the village. There's something beautiful about watching new believers take their first steps in sharing their faith—the nervous excitement, the genuine care in their voices as they spoke with neighbors and strangers alike. We moved through the community in small groups, each person taking turns to share, listen, and pray with whoever would welcome us.

I'll never forget when we were gathered with a small crowd, deep in conversation about the love of Jesus, when a young man stumbled toward us. His breath carried the weight of alcohol, his eyes clouded with something deeper than just drink— pain, and searching. "I want to know more," he said. We welcomed him began sharing Jesus' love with him, but the world had other plans. Distractions pulled at him, and he disappeared back into the crowd.

My heart sank a little watching him go.

Two days later, as our ministry time was drawing to a close, we made our way back to the little church building for a final gathering. And there he was—sitting quietly waiting. When he saw us, his face lit up with a mixture of hope and determination. "I've been thinking" he told us. "I want to live for Jesus. Will you pray with me?"

In that sacred moment, we watched God's gentle persistence bear fruit in a heart that was ready to come home.

Mercy Moments

When we first arrived in Kajjansi, something beautiful began to unfold. Word spread quickly among the local children, and we found ourselves surrounded by eager faces—so many that we lovingly divided them into younger and older groups to give each child the attention they deserved.

As we gathered that day, you could feel the anticipation in the air. We opened our hearts and shared the most precious truth we knew: that God's love for them was so overwhelming, so complete, that He sent His own Son, Jesus, to bridge the gap between us and Him. Using the simple yet powerful tool of the three circles, we painted a picture of three different worlds they could choose to live in.

The moment was electric. One by one, we watched as understanding dawned in their eyes. That day, nine precious souls made the most important decision of their lives—opening their hearts to Jesus, turning away from their old paths, and choosing to walk in His light. The joy that filled that space was indescribable. These weren't just statistics or numbers to report back home; these were individual children, each with their own story, each choosing hope, love, and a new beginning.