I’ve been kind of MIA lately. From emails and facebook. From friends and family. It has been a struggle to get my brain to wrap around simple concepts and to do lists. I am straddling two cultures at once. My heart is ACHING and to be honest; sometimes relieved.
ALL. AT. THE. SAME. TIME.
I was evacuated from a country that has become so very special. But that’s not the whole story.
I wasn’t just another visitor. I wore their fabrics, bought their food, spoke their language, treated their wounds. I laughed and cried, got angry, frustrated and confused. I turned down a million…
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We see it so often in America, the friendly American Red Cross employees with a syringe in one hand, a cookie in the other, ready and willing to take your blood. To place in a bag, put in a freezer and await usage when someone needs it. We walk in because of peer pressure, a bribe of some sort or because it’ll get us brownie points for extracurriculars and walk out with a smile, a sticker and a cookie. It is sterile, well run and you can chat all day with the nurses as they smile while you lay on a bed for 30 minutes.
The phone rang yesterday. Immediately dropped my plans and high-tailed it…
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What if I told you of a place on the edge of the Sahara, where water is scarce except for about 8 weeks a year. Where “dirt” is actually sand, the dryness in the air robs you of every drop of moisture in your body and the sun beats down hard during the day, with little breeze and shade. I want to tell you about the beautiful people here who, out of necessity for their well-being and livelihood, who spend their days tirelessly sowing, weeding, watching and protecting their crops so that maybe they can harvest, sell at the market and have enough to feed their families. It is the way of life…
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I will be honest. There are times when things hit harder here than they would in the States. When I know at the core of my being that the Lord has called me here and I am undoubtedly where I am where I belong and yet, my heart longs to be in other places.
Before I left US soil, I made a point to say goodbye to my grandmothers, just in case something were to happen to them while I was gone. That thought sobered me. I even wrote a blog post about it.
But what I was unprepared for was the goodbyes I DIDN’T say. The grief and pain friends and family would experience from miles and miles away and…
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I had just arrived. All eyes were on me. Tiny, narrow pathway, personal bubble completely popped, yelling, a massive chaotic scene filled with carts and colors and sounds and smells, all new and so completely overwhelming.
Then the clock struck 3. I watched as it played before my eyes. Everyone seemed to hurry for the iconic plastic teapot everyone owns here. As I watched with curiosity and in amazement, everyone began washing their feet, preparing themselves as the afternoon call to prayer from the nearby mosque pierced the busy and crowded market. Men focused hard on washing up well and…
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