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KISSES FROM KATIE by Katie Davis - Read Chapter 1 - Free download as PDF File .pdf), Text File .txt) or read online for free. [read ebook] Kisses from Katie: A Story of Relentless Love and Redemption Forman EPUB / PDF For download this book click button below. Editorial Reviews. Review. "When you think of what one young woman can accomplish by "Kisses from Katie" will be one of those books you cannot put down. It will literally transform everything about you and guide the way for you to take.

I was forever ruined for comfort, convenience, and luxury, preferring instead challenge, sacrifice, and risking everything to do something I believed in. Davis Audiobook Online. Cancel Save. I cradled in my arms a child who had seen his parents and siblings killed and had more than likely been forced to kill others himself in the war in northern Uganda. Good News for an ebook of Kisses from Katie:

Tell us what you like, so we can send you books you'll love. Sign up and get a free eBook! With Beth Clark. Trade Paperback. Price may vary by retailer. Add to Cart Add to Cart. About The Book. Reading Group Guide. About The Author. Photograph by Jacqueline Grace Kramlich. Katie J. Product Details.

PDF - Kisses from Katie

I found Uganda to be a beautiful land filled with beautiful people. Jinja, the city nearest to the village where I live today, sits nestled against the shore of Lake Victoria and at the source of the Nile River. Views of the lake and the river took my breath away when I saw them for the first time, and the explosion of color I saw as bumpy, vibrant, red dirt roads traversing the lush green landscape captivated me.

The people who called this fascinating country home astounded me with their gracious kindness and gentle ways. I watched, wide-. In the town, I saw the kind of everyday life that happens in every society, in its own way, take place as people shopped along Jinjas main streets, did their banking, or met friends and chatted on the sidewalk.

KISSES FROM KATIE by Katie Davis - Read Chapter 1

When I went to the villages, I witnessed men and women shucking corn, cooking, talking among themselves, or simply sitting beside the road quietly taking in the happenings of village life. Whether I was in the town or out in a village, children were everywhere.

When they saw a person with a different color of skin, they giggled and shouted. Some ran toward me with glee, others shrieked and fled at the sight of a foreigner. Those who werent afraid of me grabbed my hands eagerly, as though we had been friends forever.

It was easy for me to fall in love with them and with their country, its enormous beauty juxtaposing extreme poverty.

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Most of our time was spent working at the babies home feeding, changing, teaching, and playing with the many children there. The children as well as the women who worked in the orphanage inched their way into my heart, leaving their little handprints all over it.

I would never be the same. I left Uganda in tears at the end of our trip, the country and the people now a part of me.

I cried all the way back to Tennessee and knew that someday I would return. I was forever ruined for comfort, convenience, and luxury, preferring instead challenge, sacrifice, and risking everything to do something I believed in. I realized it as I bathed babies and changed diapers in the babies home, as I met older children and threw stones into the river with them, and as I did everything I could do to meet the basic human needs so evident around me.

My heart had found its joy as I served the beautiful people the world calls poor but who seemed so rich in love to me. I have no doubt that God was preparing a longing in my heart for Uganda many.

Though the red soil eventually wore off the soles of my feet, Uganda never left my heart and was never far from my mind. Upon my return to the United States to finish my last semester of high school I must admit I had become a bit obsessed with Uganda.

I glanced at the clock during class to figure out what time it was there and daydreamed about what my friends in Uganda were doing. I talked about Uganda so much that Im sure all my friends in the States wanted to tell me kindly to shut up.

I knew I had to get back. During my trip to Uganda, I met a pastor who had founded and ran an orphanage on the outskirts of Jinja. He was planning to open a kindergarten there and had asked me to be the teacher. The idea seemed a bit preposterous, as I had little experience teaching anything other than Sunday school, but he insisted I was the one for the job.

Once I returned home, I realized I was prepared to do whatever I could to get back to my beloved Uganda, even if it meant suddenly becoming a kindergarten teacher. By the end of my senior year, after many conversations and ample opportunities to see that I was serious about returning to Uganda, my parents had finally agreed to my postponing college for one year. I promised to spend only one year in Uganda and, when that year was finished, to return to the States and enroll in college.

In the meantime, though, I had agreed to teach kindergarten in a small slum village outside of Jinja, Uganda. Though many of my friends and much of my family did not understand my desire to be so far away for so long, no one could dampen my enthusiasm. Every once in a while I felt nervous, but more often than not I could hardly contain my excitement for this yearlong adventure. My dad, still unhappy that I was not going to college, never lost his fatherly concern for me. As a father who had worked to provide everything his only daughter had ever needed or wanted, he had many misgivings about the adventure I was determined to undertake.

So he decided to go with me to Uganda and stay for a week so he could survey every aspect of the place that so captivated me and make sure I was safe. The morning my dad and I left, I remember waking up in my beyond-comfortable bed in my parents house, in our upscale neighborhood. In this place where most ladies paid good money to have their hands and their lawns perfectly manicured and many people had no desire whatsoever to go to East Africa, I ate my last piece of peanut butter on toast as all my friends flooded the only home I had ever known to say good-bye one last time, all of us sobbing.

Saying goodbye to my best friends, the boyfriend I was in love with and hoped to marry someday, and my little brother for almost a year nearly ripped my heart out. Part of me wondered how I could leave all this behind, but the other part of me was so ready to do it.

The trip from the United States to Uganda is long, no matter which route a person travels. It is long through Amsterdam, long through London, long through the Middle East.

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I spent parts of the trip giddy with excitement and parts of it crying as I realized how long it would be before I saw my family or best friends again. My dad spent the entire first week of my year in Uganda trying to convince me to get on the plane back to the States with him at the end of the week. He didnt like the dirty conditions he saw; he didnt like the evidence of disease in so many places; and he didnt like the way some men looked at or spoke to a young white woman.

He hated leaving me in this country so strange to him, but he could also see how happy I was there, and by the time he left, he knew that my heart was content and he was going home alone. The next few weeks were full of joy and frustration.

I slowly settled into my room, no bigger than three-by-six feet, in the back of the pastors house. His home was on the orphanage compound, where children, ages two to eighteen, lived. I cant really explain in words the love I felt for these children or.

I think many people would have looked at them and seen only their filthy clothes, the ringworm on their heads, or the mucus that ended up in a crust around their nostrils. They would have looked around at the dormitories of the orphanage with its smooth, hard cement floor where rats and cockroaches made themselves at home and been a bit disgusted.

Kisses from Katie

By the grace of God, though, I didnt see these things. The truth is, I saw myself in those little faces. I looked at them and felt this love that was unimaginable and knew that this is the way God sees me. The children would run to me with gifts of stones or dirt and I saw myself, filthy and broken, offering my life to the God of the universe and begging Him to make it into something beautiful.

I sit here in a broken world, small and dirty at His feet, and He who sits so high chooses to commune with me, to love me anyway. He blinds Himself to my sin and my filth so that He can forge a relationship with me. And this is what He did for me with these precious children. He blinded me to the filth and disease, and I saw only children hungry for love that I was eager to share with them. I adored them, not because of who I was, but because of who He is.

I just sat right down on that cold, hard floor and snuggled my nose into their dirty necks and kissed their fungus-covered heads and didnt even see it. I was in love. From the moment I got there, I was busy, happy, and exhausted from rocking babies, reading to toddlers, playing with preschool-aged children, and entertaining the five- and six-year-olds.

I spent mornings teaching kindergarten and spent most of my afternoons with the two- to six-year-olds at the orphanage because the older children attended school during the day and didnt return to the orphanage until about 5: I had come to Uganda loaded with paper, crayons, counting charts, and picture books, prepared to teach the twelve or fourteen kindergarten-aged children who lived at the orphanage.

As I was in transit from the States, however, the pastor had decided he felt led to. Imagine my surprise, then, when I showed up to teach twelve children and pairs of eyes stared back at me, a sea of brown little faces crammed into the barn-turned-classroom which smelled exactly like a barn and not at all like a classroom , all ready and eager to learn.

As I made my way through the maze of little bodies sitting on wobbly benches, the room was silent. Finally, someone was unable to contain a giggle any longer, piercing the quiet with joy. Some of the other students started laughing, too, while others began to cry. The children didnt know what to do; they had never been to school before.

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