Wash, roast, wait, grind, boil, wait, put grounds into boiled water, wait, pour, and then drink. This was the step-by-step process I watched almost every day for two months straight (I may or may not be addicted to coffee, now). It was a simple tradition that required little work and resources in order to create what could only be defined as a multitude of fruit. It was the reason for numerous Jesus conversations, acoustic jams, belly laughter. As we sipped our bean water, we grew in knowledge about one another, shared stories from our pasts, figured out what made each other laugh. It opened my eyes to the importance and weight of relationships, the need to prioritize people over work. Because ultimately, they’re what makes life full, what makes life beautiful and radical and personal. The people I got to live with for the last two months of the race were the ones who showed me this— loving without restraint and without fear. Because of this culture and its revolve around relationship, I learned a little bit more about generosity and humility. I was forced into a position of receiving and accepting service, giving more and more as I saw the reflection of Jesus in these kids, and offering what I had whether it was time or possessions or a listening ear. All this to say, I thought I would go into Africa giving what I had so I could be a part of changing lives, but in the end I was the one who received from them and am now forever changed.
