for about two weeks now i have had multiple blogs ready to send, but things rarely ever go the way you plan them here. i have these things typed on my computer and limited access to wireless. since it has been cloudy and raining everyday for the last twelve days, it's difficult to count on the signal. then there is the fun of trying to use my flash drives in internet cafes. like everything else here, that is always hit or miss.
i have been agonizing over this and feel it hanging over my head like i do when i haven't written in my journal or picked up my guitar enough. i have put pressure on myself, as i do, knowing that people want to see pictures and hear stories. in the end, i give into what you must learn in a place like this...less really is more and things that used to seem important just don't matter. life is stripped down here, enough for me to see it for what it really is and care about the things that count.
a friend, whose writing has had a profound impact on my life, gave this advice to me,
"write without editing. write about anything. write with no minimum or maximum expectation." this is a challenge for my anal, perfectionist, daughter of an English teacher self. for the first time in my life i have been sending emails without proofreading them...that is a big deal for me. writing has always been a good outlet, but i find it hard to just lay my heart out there for the whole world to see. it's getting easier.
so, here it is, what has been happening with me; unedited, not planned out, just as it comes.
i have finally started to settle into the lifestyle here in such a way that it feels easier. i am realizing that frustration is something we choose, not something that is forced upon us. it's a choice, like every other ugly attitude that has raised its head in me since i've been here. this is definitely one way to find out what is really in your heart. there is no place to hide from it here and nothing to cover it up. it's all on the surface, because it takes energy to wrestle those monsters down and keep them hidden inside. the daily tasks of living here sap all of that energy and make it impossible to pretend that you are anything other than who you are when no one else is around.
lately, i have been thinking a lot about the children that i have made connections with over the years and the encounters that left me changed forever. those memories have been rising to the surface after many years of being buried deep in my heart. some things seem too precious to share and others too painful. i am learning so much about myself here and i thought i had that figured out. dwelling on these memories has been good for my heart. i have realized that most of my closest friends now have never even heard these stories.
here is one of my favorites from my trip to Romania in 1992:
George was one of the critical cases among those children I met in the hospital for
infectious diseases in Constanta, Romania who were HIV+. He was very disturbed and confined to a crib. He had hit himself so many times in the same spots on his head and face that he had sores. They said, nothing would console him. During my time there, we as a team would pray and worship together everyday at lunchtime. We began to pray for George and over the weeks I was there, the peace of God came over him at times. The first time I visited him I was by myself and when I came in the room he was sitting up in the crib and hitting himself as he did. At twenty I didn’t have much experience with this and wasn’t sure how to handle it. Whenever I find myself in that position I cry out to God even if it is silently and ask for help. As I did that on the day I met George, songs began to come out of me. I was very insecure at that time in my life and never sang in public, but it just came over me. George, according to the nurses, had never been able to rest or relax since he had been there. I don’t even remember the songs I sang to him, but as I sang, the intervals between blows to his head got longer until eventually he stopped. Keeping his big brown eyes on me the whole time, he slowly moved his way down onto the mat. By the time I finished, George had put his head down and fallen asleep. I left the room and went to play with some of the other kids outside. Soon, one of the nurses came to find me and asked what I did to George. She said, we have never seen him sleep.
i am gathering more stories here and will be sharing more on the work in Muzoka soon. things have slowed down for now and i will have a bit of a break over the holidays. thanks to all who have been praying. the rains have been good and if it continues this way, the harvest will be plentiful.
