Big Apple to the Big Bush

Life in Africa feels unusual. As 2009
closed a chapter in my life, the New Year always offers time for innate
reflection.

My previous blog mentioned my team would be in Kenya this
month. It comes as no surprise things have changed. I’m currently with my team
in Kampala, Uganda doing any and every ministry under the sun. It’s been an
exhausting week and I’ve hardly had time to process all I’m experiencing. We
hit the ground running with door-to-door evangelism out the ears, visiting
children with HIV/AIDS, malaria and other illnesses at the hospital, preaching,
worshipping and praying for people.

It’s difficult for me not to reflect on the 180* my life has
taken in just one year’s time. This time last year I just moved to New York and
began what I believed was the beginning of something big. I had my dream
internship in fashion, working in the epicenter of glamour on 5^th
Avenue, or so it seemed.

Here I sit a year later, in an Internet café in Uganda
sporting the same outfit for the third day in a row and laughing at how I got
here. For fear of sounding as if I’m throwing myself a pity party I’ve
neglected to put these feelings down, but feel its necessary.

I’ve gone from long hours at the office, happy hours after
work and fashion shows to long hours evangelizing, having Coke and Chapatti
(glorified carbs) for lunch, and sporting my underwear inside out to get an
additional days wear out of them.

I can’t seem to offer a suitable explanation. At times, I
question my sanity. In some aspects I feel as if I’ve abandoned myself. The
Nicole I’ve been for the greater part of my life.

Since arriving in Africa I’ve been beating myself up for
dreaming of the ‘old me.’ How do I justify dreaming of silly things like my
favorite black pumps back home when the kid I’m praying for is walking around
barefoot? When those same pumps could have probably bought his whole family
food, clean water and shoes?

More importantly, when I do arrive home, is it ok to enjoy
wearing those pumps after what I’ve experience this year?

After going non-stop we took a much needed day off.
Mid-morning I still couldn’t shake the feelings I’d woken up with. Tres asked
me how I was and instantly erupted in tears. We got to talk and I began to
realize how many different emotions had been put on the back burner this week.

Fears.     Struggles.      Guilt.      Change.

I mentioned before beginning this journey how it always
irked me the ‘high calling’ placed on missionaries, not that’s its bad to be
one, but the majority of us aren’t missionaries in all intents and purposes of
the word.

Being a missionary. Being on the front lines of change.
Being in Africa. In the Christian culture these things are glamorized. The
truth is life in the front is sometimes anything but glamorous. It’s downright
frustrating at times. Little things like heat, transportation, pollution, bugs
and silly things that shouldn’t bother you can drive you mad.

I remember devouring blogs before signing up for the Race
and thinking how unbelievable traveling the world sounded. Living rough would
be sure to earn me oodles of brownie points, perhaps even some jewels in my
crown up in heaven? Crazy, I know.

I struggle with feelings of guilt as to why I wasn’t in love
with life here. Reading blogs of others who had fallen in love with Africa.
Many do; the people are warm and inviting, the need eminent, and the spiritual
hunger vast. This is what I signed up for isn’t it? Then why is my heart
stirring for something else? Why am I unsettled? More importantly, what’s God
teaching me in this season of life?

Having the same number of months behind me as in front of me
my mind wanders to the future. Life after the Race. It can’t help it. It’s
natural to ask. To pray. To plan. This journey has been about so much more than
I ever dreamed. It wasn’t just about serving those in need, but also about my
journey with God. He has called me here for a reason. He has shown me vast
amounts of His kingdom, His heart, and His children.

Growing up in church we’re always told how much God loves
us. It becomes a dull answer casually strewn around. That love is transformed
into something utterly different when you actually encounter it. God loves me
more than my human intellect can grasp. He loves me so much and longs to
fulfill the desires of my heart (Psalm 37:4). But first I had to delight myself
in the Lord. That’s always been a favorite verse of mine, only now I think I’m
starting to unravel its truth. This Race is about me delighting in Him. Serving
Him when we’re doing something I don’t always want to do. Praying for people or
going door-to-door preaching the gospel when I’m too exhausted to stand. Why?
Because it brings Him glory and delight.

So where does that leave me? On the edge of something big.
God has given me little ‘nuggets’ all year of what’s to come. Those are what
get me truly energized because they’re the desires of my heart.

I remember a Mother Theresa quote that challenges us each to
find our ‘Calcutta.’ Mother Theresa loved what she did. I find it hard to
believe Mother Theresa not being a servant anywhere, but Africa wasn’t her
‘Calcutta.’ It isn’t mine either and that’s ok. I know when the time is right
my ‘Calcutta’ will come.