Dorina

There’s something deeply moving about seeing familiar faces return to the Hope Center. Over the past few weeks, we’ve had the incredible honor of welcoming back some of the very first patients we met when we arrived back in February.

Among them is a dear baby girl who has especially touched our hearts. When she first came to us, she was just five months old but weighed as much as a newborn. She had a cleft lip and palate, and the road ahead for her was uncertain. However with a determined mother seeking out the best intention for her child she was brought to our team at the Hope Center.

She stayed with us for nearly two months, participating in our feeding program. With careful attention, of various departments she began gaining weight, slowly but steadily. Reaching her target weight was a milestone, and with that she received her admission date and surgery was scheduled. 

Her surgery was successful, and her face was glowing with her brand-new smile. 

Later this week, she’ll travel back home with her family, carrying with her not just a new smile, but also a future filled with hope. She’ll return to us later this year for her palate surgery  and we can’t wait to welcome her back with open arms. 

These stories are the heartbeat of the Hope Center, but they’re not the only thing that fills this season with joy. My time here has brought me so much closer to my day crew, the incredible team I get to work alongside each day. But beyond colleagues, we’ve become friends sharing laughs over ice cream dates in town, and opening our lives to one another.

One of the most special moments came this Pentecost Sunday, when I was invited to attend church with a member of the day crew. Tucked deep into the city, that I wouldn’t be able to find on my own, we arrived safely and stepped into a small, vibrant congregation.

Though I didn’t understand the language, I felt fully at home. The same God I worship was there, in every song, every lifted hand, and every whispered prayer. There was something so beautiful and familiar about the service. Much like my time in Uganda, the worship began with just a few, but as the music filled the air, people arrived with a steady flow. Just when you thought the room was full, space was made for more. And when the floor filled with little ones, others stood outside, peering in through the windows, drawn in by the sound of praise.

It was a reminder that worship knows no language barrier. That the thirst to hear from God reaches far beyond walls. And that no matter where we are in the world, He is present drawing people in.