I wrote this article the week I returned home to my sheltered, privileged life in the states after being in Ghana for nine days last year.
I feel that these words capture my heart and my call.
I went to my barre class for the first time since being home two days ago. The wise exercise instructor made her rounds to all of the clients and then got to me and asked me how I was doing. I told her I was good and that this class would be my first one since getting back home from Africa. She smiled and asked me how Africa was.
All I could to in response was cry.
Those tears helped me realize that I need to write my thoughts down. I need to let someone else into the deepest depths of my mind. I need someone else to read my struggles. My heart achesfor someone to truly comprehend my battles and victories.
Africa is big and beautiful, its people are resilient and hardworking. Ghana has the Atlantic Ocean that the kids got to swim in, it has red dirt and it smells like home to me. I am completely in love with the compassion the Ghanaians show me because I do not deserve it. They wave atme and smile, they see the love I too share for them and their culture. They look at me amused when I sit next to my sweetGhanaian son Ramzey on our bus or at the dinner table. They watch me and smile as they see how hard I am working to communicate with them in Twi- the language they speak.
I have been taught by society to feel guilty for missing Africa. I have been programmed to think that “not being present” is god awful. I am really sorry but I am not convinced that my wandering mind is so terrible after all. I see a change and I want to make it. I am SO DANG SICK of sitting around and living an American dream when I know I could be holding orphans and feeding the hungry.
The main goal of our trip was to love on kids at The Village of Life orphanage and rescue children who were trafficked. Kids are sold and forced to work as slaves, they are dehumanized, abused, starved, they are robbed of their childhood. With Gods grace we were able to rescue four boys who’s stories brought me to tears. NO child or adult should have to suffer. No one should be subjected to abuse.
While in Ghana I was also able to visit the hospital I pray I will be able to work at one day. I met the head doctor and knew in my heart that it did not matter when I would come work alongside him but that he was just grateful to have future help from me. He and a social worker lead our team to the neonatal care portion of the hospital. Women breast fed and sat on mattresses on the ground. Some pregnant women laid down and looked exhausted from the heat. The social worker then directed our teams attention to a very premature teeny tiny baby. The baby lain down gently in the arms of a nurse who gazed lovingly into her big eyes. Sweet little Blessing is the daughter to a young girl who tried to terminate her pregnancy early and threw her baby into a bush. A dog found baby Blessing and saved her life. As I held Blessing I wished that I could be her mother but reminded myself that all I could do is hold her for a few moments.
The social worker then lead us into the mens section of the hospital, what I saw in this room I will NEVER forget. A tan African man laid in a vulnerable position on his hospital bed. He was naked under a sheet that was positioned in between his legs. His eyes wandered and looked up atevery member of our teams face as we entered.My eyes looked into his and then traced his body, I saw the pink exposed flesh all over his neck trailing down to almost every visible part of his body. Then I listened as the social worker told us that someone had poured acid on this man. He was in pain and unable to express his agony or be understood because no one at the hospital could speak French. What devastated me most was thinking about how NO ONE on this earth deserves to have acid poured on them. NO ONE deserves being misunderstood and pitted. This man was created to be brave and strong, his body was made to change the world and not to ache in a hospital bed. I was forced to turn my back to this man and tears rushed down my face, I felt helpless.
Every aspect of my experience in Ghana is heavy because I really really do care to a whole other level. I want to jump out my skin with excitement regarding how I can help. My life calling is to bea mommy to orphans, give hope to the hopeless, love the unloveable.
My two boys and I got lots of “family time” this trip. I got to hold them, play cars, rub their backs, watch movies, and give them lots of kisses and hugs.
My youngest- Ramzey is a mommy’s boy. I cradled that sweet boy in my arms as he fell asleep, I rubbed lotion on his callused feet that worked so so hard on Lake Volta, I wiped tears from his pure eyes as I said goodbye to him and felt like a failure. I often feel so disappointed in myself and sad for my kids because they call me mom yet I know that a mom should ALWAYS be there for her babies. She should love them all the days of her life, for some reason I feel like I am insignificant because I only see my sons a few days of the year. I have to remind myself that the length of my trip will NEVER determine the extentof my love for my babes. I will always love them more than life itself.
Bessah my oldest son is bold and brave. That boywas so quiet yet displayed affection in ways that touched my heart the most. He let his mama help him pack for soccer camp and showed the little bear I gave him from my own childhood in his bag. I started to ball my eyes out when I found out that he was leaving much earlier than expected for camp and that our time together would be cut short, when I looked over my shoulder I watched big alligator tears stream down his face and I was reminded that my love for him is not one sided. That boys faith moves mountains and he shows me Jesus like no one has ever showed me him before.
I think I can feel so connected to these kids so fast because I am able to sympathize with some of the situations that they face. I understand a tiny glimpse into the deep treacherous feelings they have felt in their past and my heart is heavy and grieves with them. My ability to empathize with others is absolutely insane and it can be a blessing and a curse, but I love it because it binds me close to those I love the most.
Africa is raw, my emotions in Africa are raw, my face is bare from makeup, my heart is full of love, my arms are filled with babies, my cheeks ache from smiling so much. I see the compassion that fills the orphanage, I see how the older boys at the orphanage take in the little kids as their own. My eyes get watery when I think about the boy that walked to a store and bought be iced cold bottled water with his own money and asked me if I wanted ice cream to go along with it. I am humbled when I think about the night I was crying and that boys first response to me was, “all we can do is pray”. I have hope for this world when I think about the way he prayed for me and the sweet way that Ramzey held his little hands right in front of his face as the boy prayed. I feel honored when I remembered how excited they were to hear me pray.
You know, sometimes you just are positive Jesus is real because of the way these kids act when they have nothing yet they find EVERYTHING in Jesus.
Other days you just know Jesus is real because you can see how hard the devil will work to try to preventGod from working.
This is where my mind goes in its free time.
