Zambia

So many have asked me how I feel upon my return from Africa. I've struggled with verbalizing it. This isn't pretty or eloquent because my thoughts are neither of those. My thoughts work in lists most of the time.
Why I loved Africa:
~ silent nights
~ music without boundaries
~ black skies with views of the milky way
~ nshima and impwa
~ cool nights with the smell of coal/wood fires traveling though the air
~ little hands running through my "white hair"
~ chetenges
~ seeing it through 11 year old eyes
~ people who seem to have unending hope that things will get better

So how do I feel? I feel awakened. I feel awareness. From the moment I met my first local, I felt nothing but warmth and friendship. I had entered a reality where 25% of the adult population has HIV/AIDS and discovered what humanity can be. I felt connections. No more looking through hazy, screened windows to see the outline of things, but not the clear details. I can’t pretend I don’t know how the poorest of the poor live because I do. I can’t act like it's only on t.v. commercials that children go to bed hungry. I can’t ignore that my thoughts keep me up at night. I feel more than guilt for such an easy life, accessible food, clean water and abundance.

It is hard coming back to my world. It is hard coming back to a house where 5 people begrudgingly share a single bathroom. It was hard getting off a plane and into our gas guzzling truck and driving to our home where we would have electricity and a full refrigerator of food. Here, I complain about a small house, yard work, needing a “break” from my schedule or my kids; but my every basic need is met, with more luxuries than I can count.

So, with so much, how can my joy be incomplete? How is it that I can see true peace in one of the poorest countries in the world? I can't reconcile their lack of every basic need and the fullness in their lives. I’m not sure how to mix these worlds together. I don't know how to show Todd all that I’ve seen and all that my heart holds, or parent my kids without guilt. I'm trying to overcome the overwhelming desire to give it all away and go. I've left Africa but Africa hasn't left me.

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Home Sweet Home?

Been home from Zambia for just over a week, but it feels a day or two. I haven't really caught my breath. I jumped right back into work less than 36 hours after getting home. Of course, the first day was a Monday, which means teaching, so day 1 back at work didn't end until about 10:00p.m. After work Tuesday, Piper & I (and friend Joy) traveled down to ISD for our annual speaking engagement on the Parent Panel, making day 2 back at work end about 11:00p.m. By Wednesday the jet lag was really catching up to me, as was what I have dubbed the African Mystery Rash. We mustered our way through a sudden death of an extended family member, softball practices and baseball games throughout the rest of the week, including 4 on Saturday and 4 on Sunday. VBS started last night and here it is Monday again. VBS and softball and baseball this week, culminating with hosting a baby shower for a dear friend and a birthday party for a dear daughter on Saturday. Sunday is an open house and welcome-home-from-Africa party. I seriously can't remember how I got here and in trying to find time to visit with a friend, I was looking to the 3rd week of July before I had free time!

I've been gathering my thoughts on Africa for a week now and am not sure how to express them - maybe tomorrow I'll try, but not yet. I miss it.