oops...

Let me start off by saying I'm sorry.

I'm OK with not thinking through staying in Africa, because I'm OK with staying in Africa.

But what I really didn't think through was my parents finding out I'm not coming home from my blog and not from my mouth. I really left no information as to where I was going to be staying or when I was coming home or if I was even safe, so needless to say I got a few concerned emails from my family.

I love my family. I love that they love me.

So after my apology, let me say I am fine, I am safe, and I have never been better. I am in good hands!

There is a total of 3 teams from my church coming to Africa this summer to help work and love on the people. I was on team 2... meaning one more team still had two weeks ahead of them. I decided to stay for the remainder of the time with team 3 until they return home on July 15th. They arrive on Wednesday and until then I am staying safely in the house Global Family Rescue has rented for the three teams to stay in over the summer. There are bars on the windows and locks on the doors... all of which are surrounded by a huge concrete wall with glass sticking out of the top for those who consider jumping it... safely guarded by Mark who stands by the gate 24/7... with the exception of sleep, in which case he switches out with John... who is just as capable of keeping us safe... even though he's only like 5'4 and probably weighs like 120 pounds.

So needless to say, I am safe.... safe, safe, safe... staying with 4 other people from my church who are here for the whole summer... and together we are awaiting team 3... behind a wall, behind bars, behind locks, and behind 5'4, 120 pound John, we are safe!

Safe, safe, safe... I figure this word can not be overused in a situation where your parents find out you did not get on your flight to return home from Africa.

I'm sorry for the scare. I am safe, I promise. I love you all, especially my fam. And I promise you... I will be on the flight home July 15th... no more surprises... at least not in Africa!





oh ps... mom and dad... check your email... I filled you in with all the deets (that's slang for details). Love y'all!

SURPRISE!

I couldn't do it.

I couldn't get on the plane.

I couldn't leave.

I know the time will come when I will have to leave... but for now, I couldn't do it.

I was supposed to leave Africa today... in fact, the rest of my team is sitting on the plane right now as I type this and maybe even as you read, heading back home.

I couldn't do it.

An hour before we were supposed to leave for the airport, I made a few phone calls, took a few risks, and I made a choice... I'm not going to go home yet.

I know... at home I have a job to get back to, and some other money making opportunities, which I jump at every chance I get since I pay my own rent now, so financially it may not have been the best choice. I recognize that. I acknowledge it. And I accept it... financially... it was just dumb.

But to be honest... that is the last possible thing I could care about right now. Call it irresponsible, call it spontaneous, call it not thinking it through, call it whatever you want, but none of it matters... because it is what it is... no matter what you call it...

It's getting to hold that little girl again in Namyoya and rock her in my arms. It's getting to hug those women with AIDS as they wonder why someone who didn't have AIDS even wanted to touch them, let alone someone who was American. It's getting to dance like a total white girl and have a church full of African families laugh hysterically and welcome me into their culture. It's getting to hold the hands of a different color... ones that are not very familiar to me, but that have become part of who I am.

It's getting to see Bosco smile and hearing Jerome laugh. It's getting to hug Idah and allow her to hold me like I've never been held before. It's getting to have dinner with Karm again (even if it means more pineapple) while we plan her escape to America in my suitcase. It's getting to make a few more faces in the rear view mirror while Fred is trying to drive the bus. It's getting to see some of the most beautiful smiles I have ever seen in my life... the smiles of Uganda.

It's getting to re-examine what life is all about... and question what really makes it important.

I know, easy for me to say now, I'm still in Africa. I'm still in "the dream." The time will come for me to leave, go back home, and with enough time to pass I will get back in the swing of "reality." But what is reality? And who gets to define it? If reality is a nine to five desk job, I know I've said more than once that I don't want it. If reality is being successful, I could do with out it. If reality is being financially stable, I don't really care... I want the risks... I want the adventures... I want the challenges.

Maybe one day I will grow up and realize that this thinking was foolish and I was being so immature... but I'll worry about that day when that day comes. I'll embrace that day when I am all grown up just as I am going to embrace today while I am still immature. I'm not going to rush my life, I'm going to live it. And right now that means staying in Africa... even if only two more weeks... it's two more weeks that I am never going to forget.


SURPRISE! See you mid-July!

a chord

We're leaving today.

I didn't accept this truth until this morning... and now I am heart broken.

How is it I find myself in another position of doing exactly what I don't want to do? I don't want to leave. I don't want to let go. I don't want it to be over.

We went on a river tour yesterday... on the Nile (not many people can say they have done that). There were hippos, water buck, and "gators," as we call them in the south... "big ol' gators!"

I want to go on describing the waterfalls and all the beautiful things we saw, but honestly, I can't... mainly because I didn't care.

Some might say it's because a fellow team mate (I won't name names, Gene) gave me a Dramamine before we got on the boat... and it wasn't until after I swallowed this tiny but powerful little pill that I became aware that it would make me drowsy.

So yes... I was tired, and I didn't mind falling asleep on the front of the boat while everyone took pictures of exotic animals, but that's not why I didn't care.

I didn't care because even though my body sat on that boat, my heart sat somewhere else. As corny as it sounds my heart sat, and is still sitting, in some little village, miles away, in the hands and arms of a bunch of little boys and girls in an outdoor classroom, with no running water, and barely enough food for lunch... if they have lunch.

My heart sat, and is still sitting, with their smiles and their laughs, with their songs and their dances, with their bare feet and their open arms.

While my eyes enjoyed the scenery of the Nile, my heart broke. I would do anything to hold that little girl again. I don't even know her name, but I would do anything to hold her again.

We pass some crocodiles, more hippos... massive things, and we approach Murchison Falls... some of the most powerful falls I have ever seen, and probably will ever see, in my life... but it paled in comparison to what it felt like to hold that little girl in my arms.

I miss her. I miss all of them. I haven't even left the country yet, but sitting here in our team house, with a fan blowing on me, thinking about all of my crap I have to pack up and take home, I miss her. I miss rocking her back and forth. I miss kissing her on her bald little head. I miss singing in her ear. I introduce her to Billy Joel and sing her his lullaby song... how appropriate for a time like this...

"Goodnight, my angel
Time to close your eyes,
And save these questions for another day.
I think I know what you've been asking me,
I think you know what I've been trying to say.
I promised I would never leave you,
And you should always know,
Wherever you may go
No matter where you are
I never will be far away...

Goodnight, my angel
Now it's time to dream
And dream how wonderful your life will be
Someday your child may cry
And if you sing this lullaby,
Then in your heart
There will always be a part of me.

Someday we'll all be gone
But lullabyes go on and on...
They never die
That's how you...
And I
Will be."







I've got nothing. I keep tyring to figure out how to end this... but I got nothing. I just held an orphan in Uganda, Africa and sang to her to dream about how wonderful her life will be. I can't wrap that up all pretty and say "the end."

All I can say is that it is not the end... not for her, not for me, not for any of them.

I will hold her again... and if not her, one of her. I will rock her back and forth. I will kiss her bald little head. I will sing in her ear again, and I will tell her how wonderful her life will be... and I will not let go until it is.

A chord has been struck within me... one that I realize I must keep playing.

one hour

it took me forever just to load these photos... so now i am going to bed...

and this is what i will be thinking about as i lay in my bed, under my mosquito net, reflecting on the day...

this one hour...

all of this...

in just one hour...

how is it possible that a life can completely change in only one hour?

I love these kids.

I was made to sing to them... but more so, to sing with them...















Thank you, Lord, for this one hour... one of many like this... but for today, thank you for this one.

no words...

la la lee la dum dee da

I don’t know what to write.

I wish I did.

It’s 4 am… I’m awake again… but this time I went to bed early.

I slept on the balcony under my mosqueeto net. I woke up to the sound of African music being played by somewhere close by… lots of drums and kids singing in unison. I laid there smiling.

So much has happened in the last few days… I don’t know where to start.

I feel helpless.

There is so much need... so much going on... so much happening... I don't even know how to talk about it. I feel helpless in even trying to describe it because you won't get it. I'm not being rude, you just won't get it. I didn't... before coming here.

I have spent most of my time playing with children. I sometimes find myself unable to let go of them. As I hold them they stroke my skin to see if I am real. We can’t understand each other at all, but that doesn’t stop us from communicating. Our conversation is silent, but we smile… a lot.

I wipe their sticky hands with my skirt; I share my sunglasses with them. I bounce them up and down on my knee and pretend I am singing an African song… “la la lee la dum dee da.” They repeat after me word for word. They smile, they clap, they ask me to sing more… in a language that I don’t understand.

Maybe that’s why I am making up words instead of singing real songs... it puts us on the same level. There is no advantage. I don’t understand what I am saying anymore than they do. We’re all just singing about “la lee la’s” and “dee da dum’s,” not really knowing what the other one is saying, but laughing because we all sound the same.

They feel my skin again… yes, I am the same. We are the same. And to prove it we sing in unison about our la lee la’s and our dee da dum’s. For a brief moment we understand each other. We understand that we might not really know what the other one is saying, but we know it involves “I love you,” and that’s about all there really is that needs to be understood.

I love these children. I love loving them.

Today I held a little toddler whose parents died of HIV. It’s possible that the toddler carries the same disease. I did not want to let him go. He sat in my lap and I kissed his head. I rocked him back and forth and little tears streamed down his face. I think he was scared, but he didn’t move. He just stayed there in my lap.

I handed his sisters each a penny and told them what it was. “Penny,” they would say and hold it up and smile… “Penny.” They actually said it a lot better than most southerners’ do who call it a “pinny.” We covered them with stickers, but more so with love. We un-wrapped candy to give to them… the candy that I was afraid was going to blow out of my window during the tornado the day before I left for Africa.

I realize it’s just a bag of candy… but God had special hands for that candy to be in, which is why He left it right there on my floor, safe from the storm outside.

My candy bags are running low and my time is running short. What happens when the bags are empty and the time has come to board the plane? The reality is… I’m going back home.

While I’m here I get to see these kids smile for a day and laugh out loud... then I get to go back to our house, pat myself on the back for my good deed, eat my supper, throw away my leftovers, crawl in bed, under my covers, only to wake up and do it all over again tomorrow… for the next two weeks. And when the two weeks is up, I’ll pretty much do all of the above, minus the back patting for making African children smile because when I go back home my good deed will involve not giving some rude customer at Starbucks decaf when they ask for regular.

I could compare Naperville, IL and Kampala, Uganda and give all the cliché explanations of how spoiled we are in America and how much the people here in Africa need to be loved. But that wouldn’t help anybody. How much someone has does not determine how much they need to be loved. It is easy for me to love the people here… they have nothing, and so they openly accept my love.

But back home, it is so hard for me to love people. It is so hard to love the spoiled child who has everything… the business man who wants more money… the million dollar families in their million dollar homes. It’s hard for me to love them because they don’t seem like they need it. They have everything they need, right?

Wrong. That rich woman in her mansion needs Jesus just as much as that homeless child out on the street. Hard to swallow, I know, but true. Jesus said to care for the orphans and widows, yes, but he didn’t say to do so instead of loving those who are spiritually poor. The truth is, we all need to be loved. The children in Africa, the children in Naperville, we all need to be loved. And I think one of the hardest things about this is trip is going to be taking the love that I have learned over here and applying it to those back at home… to those who have everything, to those who don’t “need” anything, to those who don’t as openly accept my love, and to those who don’t even love me back. It is hard for me to love those people… but I know that that is what is going to have to happen when the candy bags have run out and the time has come to board the plane.

mosqueeto nets

It’s 3 am… I am wide awake… and I am in Africa.

Some may think it’s because of jet lag, but really I was sleeping quite nicely out on the balcony, under my mosquito net (pronounced "mosqueeto"), with a cool breeze blowing and the moon just a beaming, until I was awoken by the neighbor’s dogs barking in Swahili. Once awake I realized the entire town of dogs was barking in Swahili and I felt quite like a part of the movie 101 Dalmatians when they sound the dog alert and each bark to the dog in the next town over that the puppies have gone missing. Apparently some Ugandan puppies have gone missing because these guys are going crazy.

I came downstairs to get on the computer and right outside of the window I am greeted by the sounds of an all out dog attack. The little one must be dead because I don’t hear him anymore.

I don’t have much to write about right now other than to say I love it here. I absolutely love it. I love the people. I love their smiles and their hugs. I love their excitement for life despite the little they have. I love their excitement for Jesus… it is so real. It makes me wonder if mine is.

I love Jesus, but these people really, really love Jesus… in a way that I don’t understand because I haven’t experienced life the way they have. They smile when they pray. I wasn't peeking, I could just hear them smiling. They hold our hands, and swing our arms, and they just smile. They smile so big you wonder how it’s possible. It’s one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen… the smile of an African woman.

In reality, I haven’t been here long enough to determine how much I really like it, but I don’t need to be here any longer than I already have to realize that I love it! Getting off of the plane, greeted by smiles and hugs (big bear hugs) from people I didn’t even know was just enough for me to realize I was exactly where I wanted to be.

I came here to love on them… I under estimated how much they would love on me.

And so now I sit here in the main room, knowing I should go back to sleep so I can have energy for tomorrow, but too excited to lay down in fear I may miss something. I want to take in everything. I want to be fully here in each moment. I don’t want to miss one smile, one hug, one laugh… I don’t want to miss a thing! That sounds like a bad Aerosmith song, I know.

I realize the only thing I may be missing at this hour is the dogs barking in Swahili, but there’s something even about that that I don’t mind. Not that I want the dogs to be barking, but hearing a town full of dogs just pierce the sound of the night is not something I hear on a normal basis at home… so it reminds me I am somewhere new. It reminds me that I am in a country so very different from my own. And it reminds me to never get a dog that speaks Swahili. Some people adopt African babies, others adopt African dogs… I will not be one of them.

Don’t worry mom, I’m coming home alone… thus far...

that is... if I come home!

cotton balls and candy

I'm leaving tomorrow for Africa.

There's some kind of tornado going on where I live and I'm leaving tomorrow for Africa.

I woke up this morning to a thunder storm and it was amazing! I love sleeping in when it's storming. I opened my windows and watched the storm from my bed, which is pressed right up against them. I watched the wind pick up and the trees sway. I even felt mists of rain blow in and hit my face. It was amazing!

As I'm enjoying the storm I naively think to myself "wow, it's getting kind of rough out there," and I just continue to watch as the trees bend sideways. The wind is picking up even more, the rain is now pouring through my window, and our power has now gone out, but I'm so caught up in enjoying the scenery that I don't see the danger in it. Before I know it my roommate busts in my room and says we're having a tornado and I need to shut my windows and go down to the basement.

To be honest I'm kind of bummed. I wanted to watch the tornado from my room. But as I'm shutting my windows I start to wonder if maybe this really is serious. My first thought is of Africa. All of my luggage is in my room, along with supplies and clothes I am taking with me for the people in the villages.

Now... my grandmother is famous for worrying... my mom can be known for it as well... this morning I realized I may have picked that up...

"Oh my gosh... what if the wind breaks my windows and blows everything out, or a tree falls on the roof and destroys everything... what if all the cotton balls blow away... or the candy gets destroyed... I can't afford to get anymore... Lord please... just let me get to Africa first then blow away my house if you want!"

Now honestly, do I want God to blow away my house? No. I don't. I want to have a house to come back to, that would be nice, but ultimately, I just want to go to Africa. I realize I may need to be careful with what I say because who knows if God is going to test me on it, but I just want to go to Africa... "Please Lord, just get me on that plane, land me in Uganda, and do want you want with the house."

Easy for me to say, I don't own the house... my roommate, who does, might feel differently.

We sit in the basement for a while until it passes... and it does. I go back in my room, lay on my bed, open my windows and watch the remainder of what little storm is left.

I lay there for a while... watching and thinking.

I decide to call my dad.

He didn't answer so I proceed to leave a message singing "happy father's day" to the tune of "happy holidays." As I finish off "happy father's day to yoooooooou," he beeps through.

He fills me in on how the family is doing. He says he is making pancakes for everyone... a family favorite on any holiday or special occasion. I realize pancakes are pancakes, but there's something about the way my dad makes pancakes that I can't explain... they are perfect! Golden and crispy on the outside, warm and moist on the inside. Yum! I get slightly jealous thinking of everyone sitting around the table eating pancakes.

But then I realize... I'm going to Africa!!! Screw pancakes!!

When we get off the phone I hop out of bed and try to figure out what I will do for breakfast. I have no food in the house since I am leaving for two weeks... I'm not going to go get groceries the day before I leave... and I really don't have much money to spend before the trip... but I need to eat... hmmm...

"Church!" I think to myself. One thing I love about going to Church (in all seriousness) is the free food. I always go to Church on Saturday nights, but this morning I needed breakfast, so I decided I would go again. As I'm leaving my neighborhood I see debris all over and even a house with a tree through the roof. Wow... maybe it was more serious than I thought. And maybe God did hear me when I asked Him not to blow away my house yet. Maybe He really does want to get me on that plane, and land me in Uganda. Maybe He really does want to use me in some big, huge way... even if it is only to hand out cotton balls and candy.

All I know is, I'm ready.

lucky pants

I'm trying to write an inspiring blog before I go take a shower... the problem is... I got nothing. I don't even know why I want to write, or if I even want to... I think I just like the idea of people reading what I write. I usually don't write about stuff like "today I went to the grocery store and they had butter ball turkeys on sale... buy one get one free... and I got one... so guess what? ... I got one free!"

I try not to write about stuff like that.

You know, day to day life... the mundane... stuff like... I woke up, showered, pooped, ate breakfast, worked, napped, etc...

No one really cares about stuff like that... of course unless you're famous... then apparently everybody cares.

WHY?

I don't get that.

I'm not placing myself above people that do care about famous people... I totally catch myself taking a peep at how big Angelina's belly is and why Brad fears for the babies lives when I go check out at the grocery store, but seriously... who really cares??

My mom had twins... I never saw her name in the paper for it. Of course, Brad Pitt wasn't the father... but still, my dad is no Clay Aiken, he's a good looking guy. If you ask me, Brad Pitt should watch himself...

I can hear it now "Brad, I'm sorry, you've been replaced by Bob. Brad meet Bob. Bob, Brad."

They shake hands and Brad bows out gracefully.

I'm a little biased, but hey! It could happen!"

Seriously though, it's so weird to me that people spend their lives engulfed in other people's lives. How is that a life?

Sure, they're famous... but they're just people! They wake up every morning and put their pants on one leg at time just like you and I do... except of course their pants probably cost more than my monthly rent, and they probably make a million dollars while wearing their pants, but who's counting?

When I wear my pants to work I make $8.50 an hour! I call them my lucky pants! Every time I've worn them I've gotten paid for the work I do... they haven't failed me yet.

So I guess this random blog is to say... you are amazing! You who are reading this right now... if you are. You don't need to day dream of another life... you've got one right now... just go after it! You don't have to live your life vicariously through anyone... you can just live!!!

Put down the magazine, turn off the TV, get off my blog (when done reading), and go take on the world today!

There's so much out there... so cheers!

Here's to living our own lives and having pants that get us paid!

not mine

I'm just going to start writing and see what happens. I don't have anything particular to write about, but I have time to waste, so I figured I might as well write.


Today has been a good day. A cloudy day, but only outside, which is good.


I finally got some errands done that I had been putting off. I pimped out the mini-van and took the dog for a spin around town. I went through the drive thru at Starbucks (where I work) and pretended to be a confused old lady who was allergic to milk, but not to creamer, so she needed cream in her drink, not milk, and she needed whoever was making it to wash their hands before they prepared it, especially if they had been handling milk... you know, since I'm highly allergic.

I also asked for a latte for dogs, but I didn't want to pay for it.


I got to the window and was greeted by one of my co-workers with the total, then she looked up and realized it was me..."I hate you."


I laughed. I give her credit though because she was real patient with me when she thought I was an old lady. "We even had Matt wash his hands" she said.


At least we listen to our customers.


I went for a walk with a friend and drove back home. Now I'm getting ready to go to work. The house is silent and I'm pretty tired. I'm debating if I have time for a quick nap before I go in.


I started to pray, but didn't get too far. It's seems like there's so much to pray about that I don't even know where to start. The question I get asked the most these days is "will you pray for me?" I want so badly to say yes and mean it, but I don't always do it.


One of my friends is having a hard time in the new town she moved to. Another is battling an eating disorder... a battle I am all too familiar with. One friend has family issues, and another is dealing with abuse from her past. I love all these girls. And my every intention is to pray for them, but I must be honest and say I don't always do it. I think about doing it, I say I need to do it, maybe to make me feel not so selfish about not doing it, but I don't do it.

.............................................

Time has passed... I opted for the nap. And now I am home from work.

I worked in a different store today. I hated it. Not only did I not know any of the customers, I didn't know anyone I was working with. The one kid I worked with literally complained about every single little thing. Literally. Everything. I'm not exaggerating. I wish I was... I would probably be in a better mood.

If someone wanted a venti frappucino split into two cups you would have thought they had asked him to milk the cow and make every thing from scratch. "If they want two cups why don't they just order two cups? Geez! Cheapos! If they're gonna be cheap then..." and the rest was under his breath. The funny thing is, he wasn't even making the drinks... I was... all he had to do was take the order.

Then someone wanted a tall vanilla bean frappucino which comes with whipped cream. He helped me at that point because I had quite a few drinks to make, so I thought we were getting somewhere with the better attitude thing until he blurts out "this is the most racist drink ever! look at it, it's all white... you can't get anymore racist than that... one tall racist frappucino! Hey, I'm just calling it what it is."

The funny thing is... the kid is white. Either he is that passionate about racism or that passionate about complaining. I'm pretty sure it's complaining because when I retold the story to a friend later on she asked if he also called the mocha frappucino with chocolate whip racist.

He didn't.

Then he complained about the floors, and about the timing of when people come in, and about closing, and about the way I pulled shots, and about and about and about and holy crap it wouldn't end!!!!!!!!!

The whole time I am there I am pretty quiet. I don't say much because I'm deep in thought and honestly thinking about a lot of stuff my therapist and I discussed the day before. It kinda starts to bother me that I'm being so quiet. "These people don't know me, they don't know that I'm funny" I think to myself... and just before I think I need to prove myself and act all happy I hear my therapist's voice... "learn to be OK out of the spotlight. If you don't feel up to it, sit back and enjoy it. Don't put pressure on yourself to perform."

And it hits me... I don't need to prove anything. I can allow myself to be off if I am feeling off. I don't have to make sure every single person views me the same way and thinks I'm funny or outgoing or whatever. Not everyone has to like me (cause not everyone does). I am honestly OK with that kid thinking that I am some quiet little girl who doesn't laugh at his failed racists jokes because what he thinks of me doesn't define who I am. I have good days, I have bad days. I have loud days, I have quiet days. I have laughing days, I have crying days. Not one of those days defines who I am because they all make up a little bit of me and what I am going through.

I don't know why I even cared what that kid thought of me in the first place... he's voting for Obama!

(I don't care who you are, that's funny right there)*

When it was finally time to leave, I got in my car and I cried the whole way home. I cried because of certain songs that came on the radio while I was working... I know it's total cheese ball, but it's such a girl thing. I cried because of certain people that came in and triggered memories of certain people in my own life. I cried because my heart is broken... still. I cried because I couldn't wait to get out of there and cry.

And just as I am about to start praying for myself, I decide to channel my emotions and start praying for other people. So I started with my friends. The girl in the new town, the girl with the eating disorder. The girl with the family issues, and the girl with the abuse. I just prayed for them and I cried for them. And I realized my passion had shifted to them. I became very passionate in praying for them and in wanting God to meet them where they are at. For a moment I lost sense of why I was crying to begin with and I just cried for them. And it felt good. And I felt better. For a moment.

The troublesome thing about spiritual highs is that they don't last long... but that is what makes them so beautiful when we do have them. If we had them all the time they wouldn't be very high.

I walked inside and it was silent.

I had cereal for dinner, which I knew wasn't enough (especially since I got put back on my meal plan) but I figured it was enough for how I felt. I was going to keep it at that, which would have been easy, and very helpful in the moment.

And now it is late, and I'm still up, and I just finished my dinner. I went back and got the rest of my exchanges in... against my will, but for God's. I figure it's better late than never.

And I have to remind myself time and time again... it's God's will that I want, not mine.

______________________________

*quote stolen from Larry the Cable Guy