I'm starting to feel like myself again. I had a moment yesterday when I didn't want to wake up from my afternoon nap and wanted to instead, lay in bed and fret about talking Africa with my friends. I was scared of being vulnerable, of technical problems, of not knowing what to say or how to say it. I overcame all of those hurdles, somehow, though I did say a few things like "Pygmies breed Pygmies" and "That woman was really important to me, but I don't remember her name."
I got a card in the mail today with one of my team members to remind me of what had happened. And I got to talk to Laura today about my experiences there. More and more, I feel like God is saying, "Meg, I've still got you in San Francisco for a reason." Pryor thinks it is so I can become a teacher, Rachael thinks so I can continue to build relationships with families at my school, Claudia so I can continue to invest in community.
I'm still all over the place, that hasn't changed, but I'm starting to find my spirit again, minus the anxiety.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
It's 4:40 AM
And I've been awake for the past 2 hours, thinking about Africa. And watching a movie while thinking about Africa. I was hopeful that Zooey Deschanel and Joseph Gordon-Levitt could help distract me from my feelings of jetlag and excess.
I thought I was doing so well yesterday: I went to the grocery store, saw friends, rode the bus, got the mail that I had somehow forgotten to give my roommates the key to collect over the past 2 weeks. But amidst all of it was a sadness and nudging towards change. Things didn't affect me the way that they used to. When I was tired, I went home. When a friend asked me to go to yoga, I said no. When Claudia brought up boys, I wouldn't let myself be self-deprecating. I was happy for my friends in beginning relationships, new living situations, upcoming weddings. I set boundaries and stuck to them. I didn't worry about being the people-pleaser that I normally am. I was okay being the ever-crazy, loyal, hilarious while not trying to be, Meg Garner. The one who explained to Claudia's new roommates why we balance each other out so well. The one trying to communicate with her family about how much Africa meant to her and how much she wants them to experience it with her in the near future.
The house is quiet, the light shines through Lisa's room and our common area, flooding the hallway. No one, not even our upstairs neighbors, are awake. Everyone is at peace, but I'm the only one awake, processing. But I'm okay with that, I just got home from Africa.
I thought I was doing so well yesterday: I went to the grocery store, saw friends, rode the bus, got the mail that I had somehow forgotten to give my roommates the key to collect over the past 2 weeks. But amidst all of it was a sadness and nudging towards change. Things didn't affect me the way that they used to. When I was tired, I went home. When a friend asked me to go to yoga, I said no. When Claudia brought up boys, I wouldn't let myself be self-deprecating. I was happy for my friends in beginning relationships, new living situations, upcoming weddings. I set boundaries and stuck to them. I didn't worry about being the people-pleaser that I normally am. I was okay being the ever-crazy, loyal, hilarious while not trying to be, Meg Garner. The one who explained to Claudia's new roommates why we balance each other out so well. The one trying to communicate with her family about how much Africa meant to her and how much she wants them to experience it with her in the near future.
The house is quiet, the light shines through Lisa's room and our common area, flooding the hallway. No one, not even our upstairs neighbors, are awake. Everyone is at peace, but I'm the only one awake, processing. But I'm okay with that, I just got home from Africa.
Monday, July 20, 2009
The last 48 hours have been a blur...
Saying things that don't make sense.
Using a phone again. And hearing it ring?
Leaving a bag on the plane and then realizing I left it, since I was so tired and disoriented, but then getting it back.
Having weird malaria-dreams en route, like I was chewing the blanket from the plane?
Feeling like I was in France again, after having a Paul sandwich at the airport in Amsterdam. Memories from too many train station weekend getaways.
Did I really go to Uganda? My life here seems too normal, like I picked up right where I left off.
But I'm different, I trust God more, I don't want to be frustrated, angry, confused when I'm disobedient to Him.
And I'm a million times more grateful and feel undeserving for what I do have. I have all of these ideas swimming in my head about how I can give what I have here and transfer it there somehow. Even take all of the things from the street, store them in my room, and ship them over. Maybe not the most practical though.
I am captivated by the joy of the people there and their dependence on God. I need to figure out a way to capture it back in my life here.
Using a phone again. And hearing it ring?
Leaving a bag on the plane and then realizing I left it, since I was so tired and disoriented, but then getting it back.
Having weird malaria-dreams en route, like I was chewing the blanket from the plane?
Feeling like I was in France again, after having a Paul sandwich at the airport in Amsterdam. Memories from too many train station weekend getaways.
Did I really go to Uganda? My life here seems too normal, like I picked up right where I left off.
But I'm different, I trust God more, I don't want to be frustrated, angry, confused when I'm disobedient to Him.
And I'm a million times more grateful and feel undeserving for what I do have. I have all of these ideas swimming in my head about how I can give what I have here and transfer it there somehow. Even take all of the things from the street, store them in my room, and ship them over. Maybe not the most practical though.
I am captivated by the joy of the people there and their dependence on God. I need to figure out a way to capture it back in my life here.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Today was special...
For a multitude of reasons. I can't even begin to list them all.
1) It was hot and sunny, something I don't experience in San Francisco very often.
2) I met the child, Tracy, whose boarding education I will be sponsoring. She wore a pink dress and we colored, painted, and blew bubbles all afternoon.
3) I didn't feel any anxiety over anything: where we were going, what I'll be doing when I get home, what I'm doing 20 minutes from now. I was able to just be present in the moment.
4) I got to community paint with African schoolchildren as my audience and many of my teammembers as support staff. We created an outer space themed mural on the one wall, thanks to my work at El Dorado!
5) I got to support the widows in the community by bringing souvenirs to my friends back home.
6) I had pizza for dinner, even though it wasn't comparable to Little Star.
7) I thought about the impact that my trip will have on the people at home, in California, Pennsylvania, and between.
8) I got to hear my roommate Natalie's PhD research on the social/emotional responses of the orphans here.
9) I sat on the grass after a long day and discussed community with a fellow California pastor.
10) I gave school supplies to the teachers at the primary school, and in return, got to teach their class for a few minutes time.
11) I was persuaded by the people to stay here or come back, which means they must like me...
12) I felt that God gave me some clarity about why I'm here
13) I understood what it meant for me to go back to my life anxiety-free, talking with women in their fifties about their experiences here, and how they have been changed.
14) I can trust God because the Ugandans have bolstered me with their faith and trust in God. All I heard today when I handed out supplies was, "God is so good...Amen" If only we would think the same thing when we went to the grocery store and got our necessities.
15) I got to give Laura's sponsored child her gift and I felt like my experience in San Francisco had come full circle to Africa. God has ordained all of the things in my life, I'm just along for the ride...
1) It was hot and sunny, something I don't experience in San Francisco very often.
2) I met the child, Tracy, whose boarding education I will be sponsoring. She wore a pink dress and we colored, painted, and blew bubbles all afternoon.
3) I didn't feel any anxiety over anything: where we were going, what I'll be doing when I get home, what I'm doing 20 minutes from now. I was able to just be present in the moment.
4) I got to community paint with African schoolchildren as my audience and many of my teammembers as support staff. We created an outer space themed mural on the one wall, thanks to my work at El Dorado!
5) I got to support the widows in the community by bringing souvenirs to my friends back home.
6) I had pizza for dinner, even though it wasn't comparable to Little Star.
7) I thought about the impact that my trip will have on the people at home, in California, Pennsylvania, and between.
8) I got to hear my roommate Natalie's PhD research on the social/emotional responses of the orphans here.
9) I sat on the grass after a long day and discussed community with a fellow California pastor.
10) I gave school supplies to the teachers at the primary school, and in return, got to teach their class for a few minutes time.
11) I was persuaded by the people to stay here or come back, which means they must like me...
12) I felt that God gave me some clarity about why I'm here
13) I understood what it meant for me to go back to my life anxiety-free, talking with women in their fifties about their experiences here, and how they have been changed.
14) I can trust God because the Ugandans have bolstered me with their faith and trust in God. All I heard today when I handed out supplies was, "God is so good...Amen" If only we would think the same thing when we went to the grocery store and got our necessities.
15) I got to give Laura's sponsored child her gift and I felt like my experience in San Francisco had come full circle to Africa. God has ordained all of the things in my life, I'm just along for the ride...
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Art therapy
It's been a while since I was able to process through how I'm feeling via art. I have been knitting all trip, almost done my hand-warmers!, and today was the first day that I was able to pick up a brush and gentrify the school at our original site of the TrueVine compound.
It's hard to say all of the different emotions that came up while I was painting with an audience of sometimes 20, sometimes 100 kids. I was confident that this was the reason that God had me here today. And to care for the little child laying on the floor, just rubbing his back and holding him while he ate, earlier today at the refugee/orphan site. And to meet the child that I will sponsor indefinitely while she was chewing saran wrap in her mouth, that she found on the ground, because she had no other toys to play with.
It's a hard thing to wrap your head around, this different way of life and circumstance. Finally, on day 9, I'm starting to acclimate to the circumstances. I will always be dirty, grimey, and full of germs, but that won't stop me from forming relationships with kids.
My hands are still full of paint and the Africans think I'm crazy for not trying to wash it off. I guess that I like to think that it makes me unique, this being dirty, and getting into the Africa-ness of being here. I'm thankful that I had teammembers that supported me today in my ambition to make the school atmosphere an environment better-suited towards learning than the stark classrooms I had seen a few days earlier. If I can bring a little color to the TrueVine primary school, then I know that God has me here for a reason.
As a human, it's so hard to trust that God has what's best for us. The last few days I've done nothing but struggle with myself and my issues, thinking, "God, why am I here? I'm frustrated by what I've accomplished." It helped to have friends tell me that it might not be tangible, what I accomplish here. Rather, it's about building relationships with people in this community and somehow demonstrating to them that we care about them, even in the United States. That shows God's love for them, that we've traveled such a distance to even the most remote villages, even if just to experience a preschool graduation ceremony or witness a well dedication.
We won't always be able to understand why we're doing what we're doing at the moment, but the least we can do is be present with the people that we are with. God's shown me today that being present doesn't always mean that it will be what I've expected it to be or what I think it should be. He's shown me that he will always challenge and exceed my expectations, just like the Ugandans who think that God blessed them today because I came with my teammembers to paint on the walls of their school.
It's hard to say all of the different emotions that came up while I was painting with an audience of sometimes 20, sometimes 100 kids. I was confident that this was the reason that God had me here today. And to care for the little child laying on the floor, just rubbing his back and holding him while he ate, earlier today at the refugee/orphan site. And to meet the child that I will sponsor indefinitely while she was chewing saran wrap in her mouth, that she found on the ground, because she had no other toys to play with.
It's a hard thing to wrap your head around, this different way of life and circumstance. Finally, on day 9, I'm starting to acclimate to the circumstances. I will always be dirty, grimey, and full of germs, but that won't stop me from forming relationships with kids.
My hands are still full of paint and the Africans think I'm crazy for not trying to wash it off. I guess that I like to think that it makes me unique, this being dirty, and getting into the Africa-ness of being here. I'm thankful that I had teammembers that supported me today in my ambition to make the school atmosphere an environment better-suited towards learning than the stark classrooms I had seen a few days earlier. If I can bring a little color to the TrueVine primary school, then I know that God has me here for a reason.
As a human, it's so hard to trust that God has what's best for us. The last few days I've done nothing but struggle with myself and my issues, thinking, "God, why am I here? I'm frustrated by what I've accomplished." It helped to have friends tell me that it might not be tangible, what I accomplish here. Rather, it's about building relationships with people in this community and somehow demonstrating to them that we care about them, even in the United States. That shows God's love for them, that we've traveled such a distance to even the most remote villages, even if just to experience a preschool graduation ceremony or witness a well dedication.
We won't always be able to understand why we're doing what we're doing at the moment, but the least we can do is be present with the people that we are with. God's shown me today that being present doesn't always mean that it will be what I've expected it to be or what I think it should be. He's shown me that he will always challenge and exceed my expectations, just like the Ugandans who think that God blessed them today because I came with my teammembers to paint on the walls of their school.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Beautiful and broken
I've gotten to the point where I've experienced so much that I don't know where to begin. I've never washed a person's feet before, yet yesterday there I was, in the middle of Africa, washing several old widows' feet. I've never seen such joy and such poverty exist in the same place. And I've never been able to amuse kids so easily, by blowing bubbles or mimicking all of their motions.
Emotionally, it's all hard to process through. Seeing a community suffer from disease and babies die because of the lack of clean water, and then see that revolutionized through the $10,150 well purchase that changes the course of the childrens' futures.
I came thinking that I had something to share here, that I could impart some wisdom. Day in and day out, God keeps teaching me that I have nothing to share but my spirit. I won't be able to communicate with the elderly lady whose feet I pedicure, but I will be able to dance with her when they start dancing their tribal rhythms. I will go to schools, see children well behaved, orderly in line, eager to listen, and not know what to say.
There's so much beauty in all of this brokenness. City Church always says the same thing about San Francisco, and I'm finally able to somewhat relinquish the responsibility for me to fix it.
Emotionally, it's all hard to process through. Seeing a community suffer from disease and babies die because of the lack of clean water, and then see that revolutionized through the $10,150 well purchase that changes the course of the childrens' futures.
I came thinking that I had something to share here, that I could impart some wisdom. Day in and day out, God keeps teaching me that I have nothing to share but my spirit. I won't be able to communicate with the elderly lady whose feet I pedicure, but I will be able to dance with her when they start dancing their tribal rhythms. I will go to schools, see children well behaved, orderly in line, eager to listen, and not know what to say.
There's so much beauty in all of this brokenness. City Church always says the same thing about San Francisco, and I'm finally able to somewhat relinquish the responsibility for me to fix it.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Photos of kids in Africa
My friends Rachael, Pryor, Laura, Claudia, Matt, Kevin, and soon Maggie have all experienced Africa in some profound way. I was always excited to hear about what had been stirred in their heart by their experiences, but it was hard for me to relate.
I thought today, while sketching outside, that I didn't understand Pryor's wanting me to paint a picture for of kids in Africa for her dad until I saw the kids here myself. I couldn't complete a project that I knew wouldn't elicit emotion in her the way that the orphanages in Kenya did. Now I know why Claudia thought about marrying a Ghanaian, Pryor wanted a tangible piece of evidence to give her dad from their Kenyan trip, Rachael held countless fundraisers for her friend Jaclyn's village in Northern Uganda. I hope that she'll still let me paint that picture for her for Christmas this year.
I thought today, while sketching outside, that I didn't understand Pryor's wanting me to paint a picture for of kids in Africa for her dad until I saw the kids here myself. I couldn't complete a project that I knew wouldn't elicit emotion in her the way that the orphanages in Kenya did. Now I know why Claudia thought about marrying a Ghanaian, Pryor wanted a tangible piece of evidence to give her dad from their Kenyan trip, Rachael held countless fundraisers for her friend Jaclyn's village in Northern Uganda. I hope that she'll still let me paint that picture for her for Christmas this year.
Uganda is broken
I knew that this would be hard, I knew that there would be things that I would see that would be hard to digest. I just didn't plan on being moved to tears, feeling like I was standing in front of a commercial advertising child sponsorship in Africa. When you are here, when you can see it, feel it, smell it, touch it, hear it, it feels all too real.
Visiting a general hospital in Africa is like visiting the place that people associate with dying. I was prepared that the hospital would bring out strong emotion in me, particularly the children's ward. But I didn't think that there would be this overwhelming sense of hopelessness and depression that I would feel leaving. I didn't know how to react emotionally when faced with several mothers who had just lost their fourth and fifth successive children in failed pregnancies. I didn't know how to react when there were children with such deformations from malnutrition that you couldn't even guess their age or stage in development. When one of the children vomited on my feet, I could only stare in hopelessness as the father struggled to clean it up and it remained on the floor. I could only empathize with their situation: I don't know how to make any of their situations any better without money, education, and government infrastructure.
Only one staff member was sighted during our visit there. It was one of those moments where I wished that I was an evangelical, who could reach out and share the gospel with others, cast demons out and pray for them as they accept Jesus. But, I'm not: I'm the smiling face who walks around taking pictures of the patients for them to see because many have never even had their picture taken before, nor do they know what they look like.
All of this incoming information has me on overload, trying to figure out what I can do, if anything. All I've come up with so far today is creating art based on the things that I've seen in Africa and having a gallery show to continue to support projects here. I don't want my involvement to be in-and-out, she's done. Just like San Francisco and the world today, Uganda is broken. And we need hands to fix it.
Visiting a general hospital in Africa is like visiting the place that people associate with dying. I was prepared that the hospital would bring out strong emotion in me, particularly the children's ward. But I didn't think that there would be this overwhelming sense of hopelessness and depression that I would feel leaving. I didn't know how to react emotionally when faced with several mothers who had just lost their fourth and fifth successive children in failed pregnancies. I didn't know how to react when there were children with such deformations from malnutrition that you couldn't even guess their age or stage in development. When one of the children vomited on my feet, I could only stare in hopelessness as the father struggled to clean it up and it remained on the floor. I could only empathize with their situation: I don't know how to make any of their situations any better without money, education, and government infrastructure.
Only one staff member was sighted during our visit there. It was one of those moments where I wished that I was an evangelical, who could reach out and share the gospel with others, cast demons out and pray for them as they accept Jesus. But, I'm not: I'm the smiling face who walks around taking pictures of the patients for them to see because many have never even had their picture taken before, nor do they know what they look like.
All of this incoming information has me on overload, trying to figure out what I can do, if anything. All I've come up with so far today is creating art based on the things that I've seen in Africa and having a gallery show to continue to support projects here. I don't want my involvement to be in-and-out, she's done. Just like San Francisco and the world today, Uganda is broken. And we need hands to fix it.
The land of extreme contrast
I just finished pastel-ing outside to try and process through some of the things that have happened so far today, before we leave for the children's hospital. So much transpires in a day and I want to keep it all in my immediate memory.
Besides teaching Jesus Loves Me in front of a Sunday school group of about 120 kids in a classroom and not really remembering the hand motions, I felt comfortable at church this morning. I couldn't help but think about the way that the pastor and the rest of the congregation continually welcomed us, telling everyone how far we had traveled and that we "visitors" come from a place with air-conditioned houses and air-conditioned cars. It's also the place where I am recognized by an African woman as someone who appeared on reality TV. The schoolteacher from California, as I was introduced to the congregation, apparently bears a strong resemblance to a contestant on one of the last season's Bachelor shows.
I also was greeted by kids with sticky hands and puffy tummies. They did everything they could to cling to me and make me feel at home. I have a hard time saying no to them, when they ask me for everything from shoes to food to my email address, just like I have a hard time setting boundaries at home.
Africa, the land of contrasts.
The joy of the people despite their dire circumstances. Their faith in God despite everything that they have endured. My full heart ready to give, yet burdened because most of the time I'm not sure how. I know that I can fund a preschooler's boarding school education, after hearing the story that she came home one day and was locked out of her home and had no where to go. The cement factory, polluting the air, now next to a land that is a testament to God's cleansing love for Africa.
The joy of the people despite their dire circumstances. Their faith in God despite everything that they have endured. My full heart ready to give, yet burdened because most of the time I'm not sure how. I know that I can fund a preschooler's boarding school education, after hearing the story that she came home one day and was locked out of her home and had no where to go. The cement factory, polluting the air, now next to a land that is a testament to God's cleansing love for Africa.
Schoolteacher Margaret, who yesterday adopted me as her third child among the eight that she already has, tucking in my bra strap and shooing away the children from me.
Entering the gate of our hotel, where the back is full of trash, and the front a manicured and landscaped lawn.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
I need Africa, more than Africa needs me
Patience pays; you can never get back time; late to school, late in life; always respect your teachers... These were some of the phrases decorating a building at the school at the TrueVine compound in Tororo, Uganda, that we visited today. I was in awe the entire time that we saw this five and a half year old community, previously a bandit's field next to the Tororo Cement factory. Each brick that was laid for the grounds of the complex had Jesus' light shining through, a blessing.
From the moment that we arrived at the community, I had children attached to my arms. One toddler, pretending to drive an abandoned truck, burst into tears when he saw me. I tried not to take it personally, this mixed reaction to a group of 25 of us entering their space. But, they are so grateful for everything that Hope4Kids has done for the community: purchasing the 35 acres of land, starting with a church, then clinic and school, now houses for the workers and boarding students, a well, x-ray machine, computer lab. Plans continue to evolve, but the goal is for the community to be self-sustaining and life-giving.
I felt helpless the first few days here, driving along the roads, experiencing intense emotion as I watched the kids dressed smartly in their uniforms walking to school and felt vulnerable when the people at rest stops would storm our van with offers of chicken on a stick and water. Now, I feel like I can do something, I can give to these people in the community here for the next 8 days. I can encourage Margaret, a fifth grade school teacher with 8 kids of her own and 80 in her class each day. I can share my teaching with the students at the different primary schools. I can teach women in the village how to knit. I can sponsor a child and secure their educational path. I think that the quote that most rings true with me is "I need Africa more than Africa needs me."
From the moment that we arrived at the community, I had children attached to my arms. One toddler, pretending to drive an abandoned truck, burst into tears when he saw me. I tried not to take it personally, this mixed reaction to a group of 25 of us entering their space. But, they are so grateful for everything that Hope4Kids has done for the community: purchasing the 35 acres of land, starting with a church, then clinic and school, now houses for the workers and boarding students, a well, x-ray machine, computer lab. Plans continue to evolve, but the goal is for the community to be self-sustaining and life-giving.
I felt helpless the first few days here, driving along the roads, experiencing intense emotion as I watched the kids dressed smartly in their uniforms walking to school and felt vulnerable when the people at rest stops would storm our van with offers of chicken on a stick and water. Now, I feel like I can do something, I can give to these people in the community here for the next 8 days. I can encourage Margaret, a fifth grade school teacher with 8 kids of her own and 80 in her class each day. I can share my teaching with the students at the different primary schools. I can teach women in the village how to knit. I can sponsor a child and secure their educational path. I think that the quote that most rings true with me is "I need Africa more than Africa needs me."
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Casting my anxiety
I leave in 36 hours. I had a dream Friday night about how I missed my flight because I got on one a day early, the plane had to keep taking off and landing, and I was going to end up in Detroit with no where to go for a day until my plane to Amsterdam. I was thinking about calling my aunt and uncle who live nearby, but they were busy with a band gig.
I'm alone in my apartment and at first, the silence was welcoming. Now, it's overwhelming and anxiety-provoking. I'm not sure if I should try and cram more things into my suitcase or read over the list again at things I should bring. I'm probably going to forget something, I know that much, I'm not the world's best traveler. My dad calls me a gypsy, but I think he's still reeling from the time that I threw down my suitcase at him from the top of the escalator while on a family vacation in Texas.
I don't know what to expect. I told my friend Pryor yesterday that all I hope for is to have someone that I can connect with on the trip and some sort of action that God can use me while I'm there. I don't know what the day-to-day will look like or how I will feel. All of this alone time beforehand has been good for challenging my mind and trying to establish inner-peace, something I struggle with daily.
I like to be around people because they give me some kind of jumping off point. Like I'm not as terrible as I somehow make myself out to be in my head. And interacting with others gives me inspiration to do the things that I want to do by myself. Teaching a friend to knit makes me want to knit more. Sharing time with families makes me want one of my own someday. Going to a museum with friends strengthens my creativity. I don't know if I'm capable of action by myself.
I'm alone in my apartment and at first, the silence was welcoming. Now, it's overwhelming and anxiety-provoking. I'm not sure if I should try and cram more things into my suitcase or read over the list again at things I should bring. I'm probably going to forget something, I know that much, I'm not the world's best traveler. My dad calls me a gypsy, but I think he's still reeling from the time that I threw down my suitcase at him from the top of the escalator while on a family vacation in Texas.
I don't know what to expect. I told my friend Pryor yesterday that all I hope for is to have someone that I can connect with on the trip and some sort of action that God can use me while I'm there. I don't know what the day-to-day will look like or how I will feel. All of this alone time beforehand has been good for challenging my mind and trying to establish inner-peace, something I struggle with daily.
I like to be around people because they give me some kind of jumping off point. Like I'm not as terrible as I somehow make myself out to be in my head. And interacting with others gives me inspiration to do the things that I want to do by myself. Teaching a friend to knit makes me want to knit more. Sharing time with families makes me want one of my own someday. Going to a museum with friends strengthens my creativity. I don't know if I'm capable of action by myself.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Crazy for Africa
All of a sudden, it hit me that I'm leaving for Africa in less than a week. Staring at my friend Christi, blinking back the sun out on the patio at Mojo, it hit me when she asked if I was nervous. Or when my mom told me yesterday that she needs to hear my voice at least once a day before I go because what I'm doing "is a big deal." Or when I've been driving friends to and from the airport, thinking the next time, it will be me coming from the international terminal. Even though I've been preparing for 2 months and I'm set and ready to go, I don't know anyone I'm traveling with and have no idea what to expect. I realized today that I don't know what my life will look like in a week. I'll be in Uganda, but what will I be doing? who will I be with? will I have friends? what will I eat? will I feel completely overwhelmed? how will I explain to other people when I get back about what I've experienced?
I might feel like I did when I lived in France the first time, moved to San Francisco: an uneasy feeling in my gut from the moment I awoke. I'm not doing the easy thing. My friend Aldwin wrote in his thoughtful penmanship, "You're probably the only person I know who would be brave enough to do something like this, giving to do something like this." I know that might not be true, but I'm encouraged by it all the same.
I might feel like I did when I lived in France the first time, moved to San Francisco: an uneasy feeling in my gut from the moment I awoke. I'm not doing the easy thing. My friend Aldwin wrote in his thoughtful penmanship, "You're probably the only person I know who would be brave enough to do something like this, giving to do something like this." I know that might not be true, but I'm encouraged by it all the same.
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