You Should Have Lived Well

 

Did you live well? I’ve been asking myself that question ever since August 6th. I remember when our father crossed 78, he told me he couldn’t believe he had outlived both his fathers. And now here I am, trying to make sense of the fact that you left the world at just 30. People say life begins at 30, but yours ended. Maybe it’s because you had to grow up faster than most. At 16, you were already the man of the house. I was always impressed by how you carried that responsibility, how you stepped into it without complaint. Only now do I realize how heavy it must have been, how much pain you carried quietly, shielding the details from those around you the same way I tend to do.

The few updates you shared made me believe you were doing well, that everything was under control. Your humor, that sharp, unexpected humor that reminded me so much of our father always convinced me you were okay. By the time I learned you were in real pain, there was nothing left for me to do but pray. And pray I did. Only the answer was not the one I hoped for.

The hardest part has been carrying on as though life is normal while wrestling with guilt. Could I have done more? Should I have actively looked out and done more? And the guilt that cuts the deepest is knowing I never once shared the gift of salvation with you, the very thing that keeps me going, the anchor of my life. I regret that deeply. But in that regret, I’ve decided: I will not waste another moment. I will share the love of Jesus and His redeeming grace with the people I love. It isn’t easy ,I don’t know why but I never want to lose someone again and feel like I should have done better.

No one has ever returned from the world of the dead to tell us what it is like. So, all I can do is imagine. I imagine a reunion with those who went before you. I imagine our father seeing you and saying, borrowing the words of scripture, “Well done, my beloved son. You don’t have to endure the pain anymore. You can rest now.”

And to answer my question — yes, I think you lived well. You took in stride what the world gave you. You never looked like the weight you were carrying. As I nurse this loss, I will celebrate your short life. My memories take me back to the first time I saw you  a happy baby who grew into a wonderful man the Lord called home far too early.

You should have lived well, and you did. I only wish you had lived longer.

Volunteering for FIFA: The Joy, the Chaos, and My Very Confused "Why"

 

When I learned Seattle had been selected as one of the host cities for the FIFA Club World Cup, I was ecstatic.

Growing up in Uganda, the World Cup was the event. Every four years the world seemed to pause. Flags everywhere. Dreams everywhere. Stories everywhere. One universal language: cheering for whoever managed to get the ball into the net.

So, when the tournament came to my backyard, I wanted to be part of it. Not just as a spectator, but as someone helping make the magic happen.

Then I saw the ticket prices.

An arm, a leg, and possibly a kidney.

Volunteering suddenly seemed like the perfect solution.

The Long Road to Becoming a Volunteer

The application process was anything but glamorous. There was paperwork, an in-person interview, multiple trips to Seattle for training and uniform pickup, and one memorable day that ended with a $40 parking ticket after what I thought would be a quick stop.

Before the matches even began, though, something else was bothering me.

I'd hoped the tournament would be a celebration where fans and players from every corner of the world could participate freely. Instead, stories about visa problems kept surfacing.

Swiss striker Embolo joined his team late after his visa was reviewed. An Iraqi player was detained for hours upon arrival. Iranian team members faced visa denials and restrictions that meant some could only enter on match days.

I volunteered the day Iran played. After my shift, I learned the players had to leave the country immediately after the match. Anyone who has traveled internationally knows how exhausting that is. After playing 90 minutes of elite football, they were heading straight back to the airport.

That didn't feel like the spirit of the game.

Match Day Reality

Our volunteer shifts started five hours before kickoff.

Coming from Tacoma meant catching a 6 a.m. bus to make it to the stadium by 7 for a noon match. Thankfully, FIFA provided us with an ORCA transit card, which saved my wallet.

I was assigned to the pre-ceremony team, which meant carrying and rolling out the giant FIFA flag before the national anthems.

Walking onto the pitch was incredible.

Unfortunately, the excitement lasted about ten minutes.

Once the ceremony ended, volunteers were sent home because FIFA's policy is clear: volunteering does not include access to the matches.

Standing around for hours before those ten glorious minutes gave me plenty of time to rethink my "why."

Most of us had signed up because we genuinely loved football. Secretly, many of us also hoped we'd get to experience the biggest sporting event in the world from the inside.

Instead, there were long shifts, strict rules, and some truly puzzling decisions. My favorite was learning during one of the training sessions that each volunteer was entitled to just one bottle of water. Water. At an all-day outdoor event sponsored by  the makers of Dasani bottled water.

That one nearly took me out.

Walking off the field after using eight hours of paid time off for ten minutes on the pitch left me wondering if I'd misunderstood the assignment.

Finding My Way Back

Thankfully, I wasn't doing it alone.

One of my friends ended up on the same volunteer team. After the first match, I unloaded all my frustrations onto her. As a sports fanatic, She listened... and looked completely unbothered.

It honestly felt like I was speaking Mandarin.

She was simply thrilled to be there, and nothing I said was going to change that.

Slowly, her attitude rubbed off on me.

I challenged myself to return to one of my favorite mantras: count the blessings.

By the final match in Seattle on July 6, I found myself doing exactly that.

I appreciated the wonderful people I met, the surprisingly effective upper-body workout from rolling giant flags, and the privilege of standing on a FIFA pitch, even if only briefly.

Then, after our final shift, I asked if she was going to the volunteer appreciation party.

Without missing a beat, she said:

"Bus ride hustle, sandwiches, burning Kasana, treating us like kids, freebies... I'm tired. Sitting there watching women's soccer isn't bad, but I'm not wasting my Sunday doing that."

I burst out laughing and teased her wondering what had happened to enthusiasm of the MVP volunteer..

Then it hit me, the thank you party had come a little too late because more than the freebies like a beach towel, the real prize would have been to be a spectator of at least one  FIFA tournament.

My Final Reflection

Would I volunteer again?

Probably not.

The long shifts, expensive commute, limited access, and overall volunteer experience left a lot to be desired. I also couldn't ignore how many fans were priced out of attending, or how visa issues kept people from fully participating in what should have been a global celebration.

There were moments when it felt like football had become more about business than belonging.

But life has taught me that we don't get to choose every experience. We do get to choose what we take from it.

I'm choosing to remember the friendships, the laughter, the giant flag, the once-in-a-lifetime experience of stepping onto that field, and the reminder that gratitude is sometimes a choice we have to make intentionally.

So yes, I'm retiring my FIFA volunteer badge.

But I'm keeping the blessings.

 

You’ve Come Too Far to Undersell Yourself

 

There’s a feeling I don’t quite have a name for, that moment when you know you’ve outgrown a place, but comfort convinces you to stay. That has been me at my job for the last two years. The political climate didn’t help, so I chose to keep my head down, count my blessings, and make it work.

But today, that old urge to apply for jobs came back. Loudly.

If you’re an immigrant, you know the script. Many of us run to the health sector, tier one, tier two, entry-level roles that feel “safe” because they’re more accepting of people like us. I’ve done my share of that. My resume even reads Communication and Human Services Specialist because, honestly, I can talk my way into a human services job faster than I can explain my actual skill set to someone who doesn’t understand immigrant experience.

But when I pause, really pause and tell the truth, the core of who I am is a communicator. Writing, editing, storytelling, connecting people and ideas. That’s the work that lights me up.

And when I look back, I see the pattern clearly. Even in the most unexpected roles, I found my way back to communication. When I worked as a direct support professional for adults with developmental disabilities, I would stop in the middle of the day to write about the small, beautiful moments of their lives for our organization’s newsletter. It wasn’t in my job description, but it was in my DNA.

That took resilience. And wit. And a quiet insistence that my voice or in this case, my written words deserved to be at the table.

Now, as I gather the courage to apply for the communications roles I actually want, I’m realizing something important: I have always moved toward work involving communication, coordination, advocacy, systems, and people. That’s not accidental. That’s alignment.

And I’m praying and reminding myself that ‘I have got it ‘ and  that this time, alignment meets opportunity.

To anyone who feels like they’re in the same place, especially fellow immigrants, I want to say this: Sometimes you need to step back and look at how far you’ve come. Don’t undersell your experience. All of it counts. The good, the bad, the confusing, the “I can’t believe I survived that” seasons. Every job you took while rebuilding your life in a new country is evidence of adaptability, grit, and brilliance.

We are not meant to only survive here. Even after we finally find stability like I have, we’re allowed to keep reaching for the work we truly want. We can  and have it to rebuild our credibility and confidence inside a hiring culture that often doesn’t know what to do with us.

And if you need company on that journey, my debut book Sojourning in America is right there with you. A reminder that your story is valid, your voice is needed, and you’ve got this.

The Journey After the Journey: Life After Publishing

 

When I published my first book last November, I couldn’t wait to get back to my life and reclaim some “me time.” I had big plans mostly involving catching up on Matlock like the world hadn’t moved on without me. But it didn’t take long to realize that publishing the book was the easy part. Nobody warned me that marketing would feel like a second full‑time job, one that requires sociability (this one hoho), consistency, and a level of digital stamina I simply do not possess.

Everyone suddenly had advice.
“Use social media!”
“Do videos!”
“People want to see your face!”

Meanwhile, I am the kind that thrives in the background, minding my business, and avoiding cameras unless I’m curating personal moments. I enjoy watching other people’s videos, but I do not want a camera in my face, nor do I enjoy hearing my own voice played back to me. Still, I took some of the advice with a grain of salt and a prayer. I dusted off Facebook, opened an Instagram account, and discovered Substack, which has been surprisingly wholesome.

Back in the day, Twitter (or X, depending on who you ask) used to be my go‑to, but after a certain somebody took over… well, that’s a story for another day. So yes, I’ve been using my big three Facebook, Instagram, and Substack to mention the book. I’m still not sure which one works best. Some days I’m posting, texting, smiling, and pretending I know what “engagement strategy” means. But honestly, word of mouth and the occasional WhatsApp status have been the easiest and most effective.

Three months after publishing, rather than obsess over analytics, I decided to let the numbers speak for themselves. I have to hand it to Amazon, their brand recognition makes people comfortable, and for self‑publishers, their print‑on‑demand system is a blessing. The royalties won’t make me quit my day job, but I’m genuinely grateful for the 65 orders that have come through Amazon so far, with 27 in November alone when I published (thank you friends and family).

I also ordered author copies and have sold a good number through direct sales. Shoutout to my friend Diana, who has taken me to two vending events where I sold 10 copies and to my people who sell the book on my behalf and to those who have carried this book all the way to Uganda, proudly shoving it into the hands of everyone in their circles. What love!

I’ve also pushed myself out of my comfort zone and approached people when the moment felt right. One such moment was at a church event. After the service, I approached an acquaintance, someone I know will grow into a friend, and handed her a copy with the promise she’d pay me the $20 whenever she was ready. Almost a week later, I got a Cash App notification. She didn’t send $20. She sent $30, with the note: “for excellent book.” When I texted to clarify the price, she simply said it was worth $30.

Moments like that remind me that this little project has a life of its own carried by community, kindness, and people who believe in the story more loudly than I ever could. Even when I’m worn out from filling my timeline with sojourning moments, even when the yields feel small by industry standards, the wins have been big in their own gentle way.

And if Sojourning in America has found its way into your hands, or if you’ve shared it with someone on their own journey, thank you. If you’ve been meaning to get a copy or pass one along, consider this your gentle nudge and my heartfelt gratitude for helping this story keep moving.

Seriously though… when does one stop marketing a book?

 

The Super Bowl: America’s Most Faithful Gathering

 

Football season is wrapping up with the grand finale this Sunday, and Seattle is buzzing. Our very own Seahawks are heading to the Super Bowl to face the New England Patriots on February 8 at Levi’s Stadium in Santa Clara, California.

Super Bowl Sunday is basically a national holiday here. Over 100 million people tune in every year. It’s the second-largest food consumption day after Thanksgiving. And Americans will wager more than $15 million on a single game which is wild, considering I still can’t figure out why they stop the clock every 12 seconds.

But I’ve learned this:
The Super Bowl is less about football and more about community

People gather with friends, wear their team jerseys, and serve food that should come with a warning label. Even the commercials get their own fan base. It’s a whole cultural moment.

Meanwhile, as an immigrant…

Football, real football is soccer. I have tried, truly tried, to understand this American version but between the helmets, the tackling, and the endless timeouts, I remain a respectful outsider.

Still, I admire the passion.

During my brief spell in Boston, Fridays at work looked like a uniform inspection. Everyone even the people who normally avoided eye contact suddenly became friendly. A simple “Go Pats!” could thaw the iciest coworker. It was like watching community form in real time.

Then I moved to Seattle in 2015, and it was déjà vu. On Sundays, the whole city was dressed in blue and green. Church services felt… expedited. People were ready to sprint to their TVs. I kept seeing jerseys with the number 12 and wondered if everyone had accidentally bought the same one. Turns out the fans are the “12th player.” I think this is genuinely sweet.

My ongoing confusion (and reluctant fandom)

Over the years, coworkers have huddled during football season, passionately explaining plays I still don’t understand. The game feels rough, long, and slightly chaotic to me. I’ve never attended a Super Bowl party and now that I think about it, I’ve also never been invited to one. But that’s a different story!

Still, in the spirit of the place that has become home, I own some Seahawks gear. I love the way this game brings people together, how loyalty survives both heartbreak and victory, and how a city can move in unison for something bigger than itself.

So even though I won’t be watching the game, I’ll be cheering on and for the love of dear Washington state with all limbs crossed hoping the Seahawks bring the trophy home.

A Sojourner’s Reflection

Moments like this remind me why I wrote my debut book Sojourning in America. I may not fully understand the game, but I understand belonging. I understand watching a community rally around something they love. I understand the beauty of being shaped by a place even when you still feel like you’re learning its language.

And maybe that’s the real Super Bowl story for me not the touchdowns, but the togetherness.

Sister Wives, Social Media, and the Sovereignty of God

 

Every once in a while, as you wander through the streets of social media, you stumble upon a meme that either makes you laugh out loud, shake your head in disbelief, or sit there completely shook.

Today I found one of those. My first reaction was laughter, the kind that comes from recognizing the strange paradoxes of life.

The meme joked about the night Jacob spent with Leah, thinking she was Rachel. One person blamed Jacob (“Men are wicked!”), and another replied, “Fear women,” as if Leah had masterminded the whole thing. The absurdity made me laugh, but it also made me pause.

Because if you’ve read the story, you know the real architect of that chaos wasn’t Jacob or Leah, it was Laban.

And as I sat with it, I felt that familiar tug: everything in Scripture is there for a reason, and usually for a lesson. So, I let my mind wander into that ancient household to see what it might teach us in our 21st‑century lives.

Deception Complicates Everything

Laban’s lie set off a chain reaction of hurt, rivalry, and years of unrequited longing. His deception was rooted in cultural pressure, greed, and the desire to appease people, not so different from the curated performances we see on social media today.

A “small” lie can grow legs.
A “white lie” can reshape someone’s entire story.
And sometimes the people who suffer most aren’t the ones who lied.

Love Isn’t Always Instant, Sometimes It’s Learned

Jacob loved Rachel from the start. Leah, on the other hand, lived in the shadow of comparison. Yet over time, Jacob learned to appreciate her. Together they had ten of the twelve sons who became the tribes of Israel.

That doesn’t erase the pain, but it reminds me that love, healing, and acceptance often require effort, patience, and time. Life rarely gives us perfect beginnings, but grace can rewrite the middle.

God’s Plan Still Unfolds Through Imperfect People

Despite the deception, jealousy, favoritism, and heartbreak, God still fulfilled His promise to Abraham. The twelve tribes came from this messy, complicated family.

It’s a reminder that God’s sovereignty isn’t threatened by human mistakes.
Our circumstances don’t cancel His plan.
Our detours don’t derail His purpose.

 My Own Quiet Bearing

As life unfolds for me, I’ve known betrayal, dishonesty, loneliness, and the ache of distance. I’ve also known deep love, joy, and the kind of connection that doesn’t require explanation.

The hard moments feel sharper because of the miles between me and the people who “get” me without effort. From the outside, someone might ask, Why stay far from home when you could live close to those who love you?

I don’t have a perfect answer.
Life isn’t always simple.
And sometimes obedience (LOL in my case the need to survive) looks like wandering.

This is the heart of Sojourning in America, learning to carry both the beauty and the ache of living between worlds. Like Leah, like Jacob, like Rachel, I’m navigating imperfect circumstances, unexpected turns, and the quiet work of trusting God’s higher plan.

I’m learning that bearing life quietly doesn’t mean bearing it alone.
It means trusting that even in the mess, God is weaving something purposeful.
It means believing that distance, disappointment, and detours can still lead to destiny.

And it means remembering that the God who brought order out of Jacob’s household can bring clarity, peace, and direction to mine.

When the Internet Goes Silent: A Wanderer’s Morning in America

 I don’t know how people lived before mobile phones. It’s embarrassing to admit, but when mine isn’t with me, I feel like something essential is missing. It’s not just a device for calls anymore; it’s my journal, my news source, my Bible, my music, my entertainment, my little portal to the world I love but no longer live in.

Because I know this attachment isn’t entirely healthy, I’ve spent years pruning the things that keep me glued to the screen. Some social media apps had to go. I didn’t like the version of myself that reached for the phone before my eyelids were fully open.

These days, my mornings look different. I silence the alarm, whisper a small selah of gratitude to God, and sit quietly with my thoughts before the rhythm of work begins. Working from home gives me that luxury or temptation, depending on the day. And because I’m not a morning person, breakfast rarely happens before noon. The term brunch was probably coined for people like me.

But this isn’t a food post. It’s about my love‑hate relationship with the phone and how that relationship was tested today.

Every night, I put my phone on airplane mode. With loved ones scattered across time zones, it’s the only way to sleep without being startled awake. So, each morning, once I confirm nothing urgent is happening at work, I switch it back on and scan through WhatsApp. That app is a lifeline for those of us whose families live oceans away. Without it, staying connected would not only be inconsistent but cost an arm and a leg.

This morning, January 13th, the messages from my people in the pearl of Africa were to the tune of   “Keep safe.” “See you soon.” “Pray for us.” Short, urgent, unfinished sentences like people were speaking from the edge of something.

Uganda is heading into national elections on January 15th. And in the name of “free and fair elections,” the government shut down the internet. I’m not here to write a political analysis; this is still a phone post but the impact was immediate. By the time I read the messages at 7:20 a.m. PST, it was already evening in Uganda. All the messages I sent back were single ticked, they had crossed back to analog before I could respond.

The silence felt eerie. Not because of what might unfold in the coming days, but because of the sudden, heavy aloneness. Not lonely but alone. A word that doesn’t quite capture the feeling of being cut off from the people who make you feel tethered to the world.

I’m not on the phone with my loved ones all day. But knowing I can reach them matters. Knowing I can laugh with them, hear their voices, catch the small jokes and daily chaos that matters too. When the internet went off the silence was so loud, the suddenly the distance seems wider. The miles feel heavier.

And this, I suppose, is part of my ongoing journey, my sojourning in America. Living here while my heart beats in two places. Learning how fragile connection can be, learning to trust the process in the places I cannot control learning that even when the lines go quiet, God is not quiet. And neither is hope.

I don’t know if the living between worlds ever stops, the distance on days like this is even more real, but so is the grace that carries me through it.

 PS

Woke up to Uganda’s internet shut off and felt the weight of distance in a new way. 

Full Circle: The Hands That Held Me, Then and Now

 Twelve years ago, I took the leap and came to America.

On the train from Coventry to Heathrow, my big sister Ann stopped at the cashpoint, what we called the ATM here withdrew £100. She pressed it into my hand to add to the $100 I already carried. Together, that became £100 and $100, about $220 to start a new life in the unknown.

I had left some money in my Ugandan account, but I couldn’t count on it. Within the first week, I bought running shoes, and with time my small stash dwindled quickly. I chose not to get a phone line, reasoning that I lived with the only people I knew in America and could reach others through WhatsApp and Skype, which was the hit back then.

One month in, my friend Charlotte called from London via Skype. She asked if I still used my HSBC account. I said yes, though it held little. Charlotte, being who she is, sent £100 to that account. After living off just $200 for a month, her gift felt like a million dollars, unexpected, thoughtful, and deeply sustaining.

Fast forward to this year. After years of blogging, I finally took the advice of friends and family and plunged into writing a book. With dedication and a few helping hands, Sojourning in America became a reality this November. On a minimal budget, I researched self-publishing, designed the cover, and wrestled with formatting that nearly had me pulling out my hair.

I learned it was wise to publish first with an independent press before Amazon, so I chose Book Vault in the UK. Once I had the link, I shared it with friends and family there. And who were my first buyers? Ann and Charlotte, the same two who had blessed me with the money that carried me through my first months in America.

The coincidence was not lost on me. Their generosity had once helped me begin a life in a new land. Now, it helped me begin a new chapter as an author.

What began with £100 and $100 has come full circle. Ann and Charlotte’s gifts remind me that journeys are sustained not only by courage, but by the quiet generosity of others. Sojourning in America is more than my book, it is a testament to the circles of care that make belonging possible.

PS

Before I published this story, I asked Charlotte if she could send me a photo. She isn’t even on social media, but she still agreed cheerfully to take one during her train commute. When I asked who took the picture, she simply said, “Oh, I asked a stranger.” And that is Charlotte in one sentence: an introverted, quietly generous soul willing to step outside her comfort zone just to make her friends happy.

Celebrating Diversity this International Mother Language Day

 

Every day has something to celebrate if you look for it. And if you prefer not to search, the internet offers various observances for almost every day of the year. I am particularly drawn to fun observances that honor our differences and promote unity and love. When I discovered that February 21 is International Mother Language Day, I wanted to learn more about it. This day was established by UNESCO in 1999 to promote linguistic diversity, multilingualism, and cultural heritage. It pays tribute to the languages that are integral to our identities, cultures, and traditions.

While this day may seem more relevant to those who speak multiple languages or have a strong cultural connection to their mother language, it still holds value for native English speakers who may not know any other languages. It serves as an opportunity to learn about the importance of language in shaping cultures and identities. Additionally, it helps raise awareness of the challenges faced by speakers of minority languages and encourages support for language preservation efforts.

Unfortunately, as I reflect on this issue, I can't help but notice how many people from my country have avoided passing on their mother tongues. I once met someone who specifically instructed not to speak to her children in Luganda. As a result, these teenagers, who have grown up in Uganda, cannot speak any of their ethnic languages. In contrast, I've also encountered a family living in the diaspora that requires anyone who enters their home to use Luganda as the language of communication. The Baganda people are known for their politeness and adherence to formalities when addressing elders. During a recent visit to this family, the head of the household corrected me when I answered his call by simply saying "yes" instead of "yes, sir." I accepted his feedback gracefully, and I appreciate his dedication to preserving his culture as it is passed on to his children. If we do not have more individuals like him, our languages face the risk of disappearing. Over time, as fewer people become fluent speakers, the loss of these languages would mean a significant loss of cultural heritage and the erosion of our identities.

The relationship between language and perception is complex, and research suggests that languages can influence how we perceive the world. Even if you don't speak another language, this day presents an opportunity to reflect on how your language shapes your worldview, cultural heritage, and sense of belonging. We can support language preservation by learning a minority language, speaking our mother tongue, teaching children their ethnic language, or supporting language documentation projects. At the beginning of this year, I embarked on a journey to refamiliarize myself with French. I often find myself wishing I had delved deeper into language studies during my school years. If only someone had taken the time to inspire me with a passionate pep talk about the countless benefits of mastering other languages! The excitement of connecting with diverse cultures and opening doors to new opportunities could have sparked my interest. However, the silver lining is that it's never too late to embark on this journey of learning. Each new word learned is a step toward a richer, more colorful world awaiting exploration.

I believe that there is strength in diversity, and our mother tongue can be a significant asset in shaping our identities and mental faculties. This International Mother Language Day, I hope we can come together to recognize the vital role that languages play in shaping our lives and communities. By celebrating our linguistic heritage, we not only honor our personal histories but also foster a deeper understanding and respect for one another. Let us embrace our unique languages as tools of connection that enrich our shared experiences and empower us to build a more inclusive and harmonious world.

Be Kind: It’s Random Acts of Kindness Week

 

Have you ever wondered what it means to leave a lasting impact on those around you? For me, it means embodying kindness in everything I do and that is why I was thrilled to learn that the second week of February is Random Acts of Kindness Week. It was started in 1995 by Will Glennon, a philanthropist and kindness advocate. After reading a newspaper article, he was struck by the idea that small, selfless acts of kindness could profoundly impact individuals and communities. He launched a national campaign to promote and encourage people to practice random acts of kindness daily.

Since then, Random Acts of Kindness Week has blossomed into a global movement celebrated in over twenty countries, with millions participating in kindness activities yearly. Different cultures celebrate kindness uniquely, from communal gatherings to personal gestures reflecting their values. In my culture, the Baganda from Uganda, kindness equates to what we call  "obuntu bulamu," which means being considerate of others and treating them as we wish to be treated.

Kindness is something that feels natural to me, and I’ve seen firsthand how much it can brighten someone’s day. When you show kindness, it not only lifts the spirits of the person receiving it but also boosts your own self-esteem. It’s amazing how a simple act can make us all feel more connected, like we’re part of a community. Plus, those warm fuzzy feelings we get from being kind can seriously increase our happiness by releasing those "feel-good" hormones. I remember a beautiful example of this happening in a prayer group I'm part of. An anonymous person decided to bless five single mothers in the group, and hearing their heartfelt gratitude really touched everyone. It didn't just stop there; it inspired other members to step up and do something similar. It turned into a chain reaction of kindness, where everyone tried to uplift one another. Moments like these remind me how much of a positive impact we can have, not just on the individuals we help, but on our whole community. It’s all about spreading that good energy!

While Random Acts of Kindness Week offers a wonderful opportunity to emphasize the importance of kindness, it's essential to integrate it into our daily lives. Making kindness a lifestyle choice can lead to lasting change, as demonstrated by Bhutan's concept of "Gross National Happiness," which prioritizes compassion and kindness on a national level and as a result their life expectancy is 72 years.

And you know, acts of kindness don’t always have to be big or take a lot of time. When I think back, it’s often the little things that really stick with me—like when a child gives me a random hug just when I need it. It’s those simple moments that can really brighten your day! This week let’s spread kindness by doing at least one random act each day, like writing a nice note, picking up a stranger’s meal, or showing gratitude to someone who helps us. Together, we can inspire a lasting culture of kindness!

Let’s see how many smiles we can create!

Spreading the Love: Valentine's Day Traditions and More

 

Roses are red, violets are blue, and Valentine's Day is a week away from Friday! This special day is not just a time for romantic gestures; it's a celebration of love in all forms, whether for friends, family, or others who hold a special place in our hearts.

In Uganda, Valentine’s Day took root thanks to a 1990's radio presenter Peter Ssematimba who having lived in America, who said he was drawn to its romantic nature. He not only popularized it but also sold it as a lovers' day or for those in long-term relationships. Since then, it has grown, and the city of Kampala is almost always painted red on this day.

It was interesting to learn that Valentine's Day has a rich history spanning over 1,500 years. Here are a few interesting facts:

§  February 14 was a holiday in ancient Rome to honor Juno, the queen of the Roman gods and goddesses.

§  According to Christian tradition, St. Valentine was a priest who lived in Rome during the 3rd century AD and was known for performing secret marriages for couples in love when such unions were prohibited.

§  The French poet Geoffrey Chaucer first linked St. Valentine's Day with courtly love in his poem "Parlement of Foules" in 1382, establishing a connection that has influenced how we celebrate today.

§  The traditions of Valentine's Day vary widely around the world. For example, in Japan, Valentine's Day is celebrated on two different days: February 14 and March 14. On February 14, women give gifts to men, often chocolate, while on March 14, known as "White Day," men return the favor with gifts, often reciprocal chocolate or other treats.

§  In South Korea, Valentine's Day and White Day are celebrated similarly, but April 14 is known as Black Day. On this day, single people gather to mourn their status with a meal of black noodles.

§  The tradition of giving roses on Valentine's Day began in the 17th century when roses became symbols of love and passion.

§  Along with roses, gifts have diversified over the years. Nowadays, people exchange various gifts, from heartfelt cards to unique experiences like cooking classes, spa days, or weekend getaways.

§  The first box of chocolates specifically produced for Valentine's Day was created by Richard Cadbury in 1861 (Note to self: look up if Cadbury chocolates are named after this 17th-century dude), and chocolates remain a popular gift even today.

 Today, especially on this side of the ocean(grateful), the focus has also shifted toward creating personalized gifts that reflect one's unique relationship, such as handmade crafts or custom experiences.

With that information in mind, hope as Valentine's Day approaches, it's an excellent opportunity to celebrate love in all its forms. Perhaps you can write a heartwarming note to a friend, spend quality time with family, or show appreciation for someone who makes your life brighter. So, this Valentine's Day, let's remember that love is a universal language transcending borders, cultures, and time. It has the power to uplift and transform lives. How will you express your love this year?

 

Roll Up Your Sleeve and Donate Blood

 

Imagine a world where a simple act of kindness can save lives—this is what National Blood Donor Month is all about! Back in 1970, President Richard Nixon declared January in the U.S as the time to shine a light on the vital importance of blood donations. Throughout this month and hopefully beyond we can encourage more people to donate blood and celebrate the incredible generosity of those who make it happen.

This year, while drafting a message for our work intranet, the significance of this cause resonated deeply with me. Since December, someone I love dearly back home in Uganda has been battling illness and has needed numerous blood transfusions to maintain her health. Being far away while a loved one is unwell is incredibly challenging, and it’s heartbreaking to know she struggles to access the blood she needs, as hospitals often face shortages. Her blood type is O+, and while we encourage those close to her to donate, I felt compelled to spread awareness about this critical issue. You never know when you or a loved one might need blood to survive.

When I think of blood donation in Uganda, the Uganda Red Cross Society and Nakasero Blood Bank come to mind. I fondly remember the Red Cross vans that visited our schools, inviting brave students to donate blood in exchange for a drink and a snack. (I wasn’t among the brave ones who took the needle).

Today, blood donation in Uganda is overseen by the Uganda Blood Transfusion Service (UBTS) under the Ministry of Health, with the Red Cross as a vital partner, ensuring safe and efficient blood supply nationwide. To be eligible to donate blood, individuals must meet specific health criteria. Before donating, donors receive a free medical checkup, which includes checks for blood pressure, hemoglobin levels, blood type, and malaria and HIV testing (with consent).

Donating blood is not just an act of kindness; it is a chance for donors to monitor their health while providing life-saving support to others, including surgical patients, pregnant women, accident victims, and those with blood disorders. There are various donation locations across the country, as UBTS operates a network of regional blood banks and collection centers in several cities. The Red Cross also runs its own blood donor recruitment programs.

Blood donation is vital, as it saves lives, meets urgent demand, and ensures a diverse blood supply, allowing hospitals to find compatible matches for patients in need. If you have yet to donate, UBTS offers a system that enables donors to designate specific patients to receive their blood. When you donate, you can choose to support a patient, given that your blood types match. If they don’t, your designated patient may still receive priority access to the blood supply. Currently, Uganda requires around 400,000 units of blood annually but often falls short of this demand due to various challenges, including a lack of awareness.

Now that you’re informed, I urge you to consider participating in blood donations. If you are unable to donate, sharing this message with your community will help raise awareness and inspire others to take action. Remember, donating blood is a noble act, and each pint has the power to save up to three lives.

P.S.—If you have blood type O+ and would like to donate, please contact me to designate your blood for my patient.

Take Control of Your Goals: National Resolution Planning Day

 

Today is Dec. 30 is National Resolution Planning Day. This day encourages us to reflect on the past year and set realistic goals for the upcoming year.

Reflecting on the past year allows us to acknowledge our accomplishments and identify areas for improvement. It serves as a reminder that as we transition into the New Year, we have the opportunity to reset and motivate ourselves to make positive changes and pursue our goals.

Resolutions are not only about changing ourselves; they are also about growth and becoming better versions of ourselves. Therefore, it’s important to keep our goals simple, meaningful, measurable, and manageable, while also seeking support from those who can encourage us.

As we look ahead to 2025, whether you choose to make resolutions or not, may you stay motivated and celebrate yourself every single day.

To keep myself accountable, I shared this message with my sister who lovingly turned this important reminder into a vlog here; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-635Q8KOIyw&t=9s

 

Men's Health Matters: Movember

 

No, it is not a typo! So, for work, I have to find interesting topics that ranging from heritage observances to other fun details and feature them weekly on the website.  So, for November, I came across this thing called Movember, and naturally, I was curious.  Initially, I thought it was a typo, but I learned it's an actual thing that has been in existence since 2003. It is an annual event in November where men grow their mustaches to raise awareness for men’s health, specifically: prostate cancer, testicular cancer, mental health, and suicide prevention. This resonated with me, especially as I feel there is more emphasis these days on girl children, women’s rights, women’s health, feminism, and so on. So, I decided to shine a spotlight on men in my workplace because men’s health matters.

I learned that Movember originated in Australia when two friends, Travis Garone and Luke Slattery were inspired by a friend’s mother who was fundraising for breast cancer. They decided to create a similar campaign and in the first year, 30 people grew their mustaches and raised approximately $7000 for the Prostrate Cancer Foundation of Australia.

Since then, the movement has spread to other parts of the world and has raised over 1 billion dollars funding over 1,200 men’s health projects. I am not a fan of mustaches or beards. If there was a way, we could do away with bodily hair. but for this cause bring it on.

You too can participate in (Mo) from November by fundraising, growing a mustache, or encouraging friends and family to join this cause. Every conversation and donation helps create a healthier future and reminds us that men’s health matters as healthier men lead to stronger communities.

I may not have a mustache to grow, but I will be cheering on anyone who is growing one for Movember and beyond!

Remembering 9/11: A Day of Remembrance and Reflection

September 11, 2001, is a day that will forever be etched in our collective memory. On this day, the devastating terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center in New York City, the Pentagon in Washington D.C., and United Airlines Flight 93 resulted in the loss of thousands of innocent lives.

As we reflect on this fateful day, may we honor the victims, their families and the first responders who risked everything to save others. Together, let us continue to strive for a world where love triumphs over hate.

Thriving on the Spectrum: Honoring Autism Awareness Month

 April is National Autism Awareness Month, dedicated to raising awareness about individuals with Autism Spectrum Disorder. Originally just a week-long event started in 1972, it expanded to a month-long event in 2021 to promote acceptance and understanding of autism.

Growing up, I didn’t know anyone with autism and throughout my childhood never encountered anyone on the spectrum. Fast forward as an adult for every 5 people I know, one of them has a family member or knows a family that has someone on the spectrum mainly from Generation Z. It is thus very important that for people like me who are ‘new’ on encountering people with autism that there is continuous learning.

This year’s theme for Autism Awareness Month is “Moving from Surviving to Thriving,” and the Autism Society encourages everyone to help create a more inclusive society where autistic individuals are acknowledged and provided with opportunities.

Personally I will be celebrating my nephew Adam and cheering my sister Jackey for  effortlessly being a one man army in her community of  Malaga, Spain as she continue to promote acceptance, inclusivity and understanding of  Adam’s unique strengths and perspectives as just another 10 year old boy. I still remember the first time he confidently said, “Hello Aunt Joey” I felt like I had won the lottery. And over the years, he has made so much progress and I’m sure he will amount to much.

During this month and beyond, I invite you to share stories about the daily lives of individuals on the autism spectrum and highlight their contributions. If you know a real Good Doctor like Shaun Murphy in the ABC series that would be a great read.

Remember that together we can work towards a society that empowers individuals with autism to thrive.

The World through Art

 

World Art Day is celebrated annually on April 15 as declared by the International Association of Art and United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization.

This day was first celebrated in 2012 and promotes the sharing and enjoyment of art while highlighting its contribution to cultural diversity, education and sustainable development. On this day, people are encouraged to engage with art through various activities, exhibitions and cultural events.

World Art day promotes diverse art expressions and encourages creativity. Various forms of art  such as painting, sculpting, drawing, photography and calligraphy are recognized as well as performance arts like dance, theater and music.

Engaging with art has been shown to improve mental and emotional wellbeing especially as it encourages creativity innovation and self-expression.  Art unites as it transcends borders, languages and cultures, bringing people together highlighting the richness and diversity of art forms worldwide.  It also fosters empathy and understanding of diverse perspectives.

By celebrating World Art Day we recognize the significance of art in our lives and its ability to bring people together, inspire creativity and promote understanding.

Rallying around African Americans and the Arts- Black History Month

February is Black History Month, a tradition that got its start in the Jim Crow era before it was officially recognized in 1976 as part of the nation’s bicentennial celebrations. It honors the historical contributions, culture and significant achievements of African Americans.

Each year, there is new theme for Black History Month. This year, it’s “African Americans and the Arts,” paying homage to the varied history and life of African American arts and artisans.

I thought a great way to honor this month was to highlight some activists from the past that happen to al have birthdays in February. These Black American heroes challenged societal norms and advocated for justice, inspiring generations to stand for what’s right. Their courageous acts continue to resonate today, reminding us of the ongoing struggle for equality and empowerment in our society.

 From Rosa Parks, we can learn the importance of standing up for what we believe in the face of adversity. Fredrick Douglass's work reminds us to continuously strive for personal growth and development. We can embody his spirit by advocating for ongoing learning, improvement and empowerment in our professional lives.

 Langston Hughes’s work emphasizes the importance of embracing diversity and celebrating individual voices. In today’s workplace, we can honor his legacy by encouraging open communication, valuing different perspectives and fostering a culture of inclusivity.

 Let’s carry their spirit forward not just during Black History Month, but every day as we strive to  a world that values inclusion, equality and empowerment for all.

 

Triumphing over emotions- Emotional Freedom Retreat

Throughout my adult life, I have been told by family and friends that I’m overly emotional and need to get a grip. Luckily, for the most part, this for me translated to being a strong person who just felt things more than others.

So in August 2023 when I met Elida Jerez at the Mega Free clinic held in Tacoma WA, I was drawn to her table especially as it had a flyer broadcasting an emotional freedom retreat. I had just had 2 surgeries in a space of 3 weeks and despite being a positive person, my feelings were all over the place. Simply put, I was going through the motions of doing things and was not feeling like myself.

It was also helpful that the brochure mentioned sponsorship especially as I was in the middle of bills and there and then I sat down and filled in my application and prayed it would be successful.

Fast forward to the retreat that took place 2 months after I had filled in the form, I was in a different place mentally but was still committed to participating and my 9 days at Sunset Lake camp didn’t disappoint.

There were 9 participants each assigned a coach and the day’s activities started at 6 a.m. with the coaches serving us lemon water and praying with their participants before leaving us to journal and get ready for the day. The program was action-packed and even the 1.5 hour (Flex time) that was optional for the participants to attend was assigned insightful activities like hydrotherapy, massages, and craniosacral therapy that we all eagerly showed up.

The organizers went above and beyond in putting the program together so that it was easy for all participants and volunteers to acknowledge our humanity and connect.

Both Grace and Susan learned of this retreat from Michelle one of the organizers of the retreat. I engaged with Grace on day 4 of the retreat and she told me she had learned of the retreat the very day it was starting while visiting a Korean church in Olympia. Grace a nutritionist and researcher at the University of Samyhook  signed up within 3 minutes with her main reason being this would be a great opportunity for her to control her blood glucose while at the retreat she had been monitoring it and it had gone down.

Susan on the other hand shared she learned of the retreat from a fair she was visiting and since she was battling with depression and felt unworthy Michelle convinced her to give it a try. It was day 6 when I engaged with her on this topic and she was smiling and assured me she already felt better and most important appreciated the sense of community at the retreat.

In one of our group break-up sessions, I was paired with Cindy and Patti and thought would check in on them too on why they were there and how it was going. Cindy reported she had learned of the retreat at a camp meeting in Eatonville and had signed because in her words, “she struggled with things.” At the time of our chat, she assured me she was so glad she had come and that God had prepared this retreat as a way for her to find little pieces to the puzzles to get more whole and she felt more guided on which direction to go while tackling things.

Pattie on the other hand had been a participant in the inaugural year of the Emotional Freedom retreat and was back this year as a volunteer coaching one of the participants. She said the previous year, the retreat had been an eye-opener for her especially as she was battling diabetes, and reiterated she loved helping others. While serving at the 2023 retreat, she said that she was humbled by how God came through for her in blessing her with connections that included practicing her Spanish and also getting more rooted spiritually towards a better healthier life.

On the Saturday that marked day 8, we graduated and at the ceremony, all the other participants got an opportunity to share their highlights and other wins that ranged from a week plus of no caffeine, no sugar cravings, making new friendships, overcoming trauma, appreciating healthy food to one of the participants marking a year since being discharged from a mental hospital.

Overall the retreat was evidence that much as we may have difficult times and experience lows in life, if we look to the throne of God and lean on each other, even in the small things in life, we can find stability and joy again.

In John 8:36, Jesus assures us of this, “So if the Son sets you free you will be free indeed.”

Thanks to everyone who made the emotional freedom retreat possible as it is a great platform to bring to life freedom from things and freedom to so many things and is playing it forward with a forum and weekly meetings for the participants to be accountability partners to each other. Together in Christ, we can be free.

Make Good Friday Personal this Easter

 

Growing up, I always looked forward to Easter weekend. It stood out mainly because it was a 4 day weekend and quietly I wondered what was good about the Friday that Jesus brutally died. Home, school, and the community were Christian based so with time it all made sense to extent that I merely went through the motions of observing it over the years.

This year however, as I attended Good Friday day Service at my home church in Tacoma Washington, the senior pastor dwelt on Jesus’ last words in the moments leading up to Him breathing His last. The great gift that makes this a Good Friday, once again became alive in me and here is why;

Luke 23:34
Then Jesus said, 'Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.' And they cast lots to divide his clothing.

On the cross, we see love and grace. Even in his pain, Jesus was so gracious to ask the Father to forgive us.

 Luke 23:43

 Jesus answered him, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

On the cross, we see hope. This statement was said to one of the thieves who was crucified beside the messiah. Even in his pain, Jesus gave hope to someone else and because of the cross, there is hope for everyone. 

John 19:26-27

When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, 'Dear woman, here is your son,' and to the disciple, 'Here is your mother.'

On the cross, we see humanity. Jesus’ heart goes out to his mother and since he was fully man and dwelt with us, he understands the pain of his mother. While he is in pain, he is still compassionate and entrusts her to John. 

Mark 15:34

 And at the ninth hour, Jesus cried with a loud voice, "Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?" which means, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

On the cross, we see unbearable pain and the fact that Jesus became our substitute. He takes a punishment He doesn’t deserve for us. He takes on the sin of the world becoming the worst of us. Oh what love! 

John 19:28

Later, knowing that everything had now been finished, and so that Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, “I am thirsty.”

On the cross, we see anguish. The man on the cross who had declared that those who drink the water He gives will never thirst again as the water He gives is eternal life was on the cross crying out that He was thirsty. With a snap of a finger, he could have changed all this but instead He went through this anguish for us. 

John 19:30

When He had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

On the cross, there was completion. The sacrifice of His life for ours was done and because of that, we can stop trying to earn our own way to get God’s favor. We can rest in God’s completed work. 

Needless to say, I had walked into church while going through flares of pain, but listening to Jesus’ last words while on the cross brought me to the realization that whatever I had going on was trivial because of the cross.

By going through the pain on the cross, Jesus had not only walked in obedience but also trusted the Father’s will. As a result, He crushed the enemy and Friday’s pain leads us to victory on Easter Sunday.

On the cross, Jesus accomplished what we couldn’t, He bought us salvation and my prayer as we celebrate this gift this Easter is that we daily entrust ourselves to the Father’s will too and surrender to him regardless of what may be going on around us.