<Insert really cool David Copperfield magic trick plus an
awe-inspiring heart gripping comically peppered FLOG here>
In the meantime, read this…
Today is Friday, September 9, 2011 and I’m sitting on my
heavy duty stretcher (cot) in a round hut along with eight other fabulous women
and I have approximately 4 inches of free space to my left and 2 inches…wait,
that’s wrong…I have zero inches to the right because my cot is actually
touching my neighbor’s (The one and only Beka Fritz) cot. Personal space…I haven’t seen you since
January. I miss you. Tear.
Focus Kasey. Back to the flog.
As I sit here on this heavy duty stretcher and look around
(literally…thanks to our circle house) at the clutter/chaos/mess/devastation
(whatever word best describes the aftermath of a non-fatal natural disaster)
that is the direct result of nine women co-existing in a 20′ diameter dwelling
place, I cannot help but smile. I’m sitting in a round hut on a cot with some
of my favorite people and I’m doing all of this in AFRICA!
Kasey tangent , ready, go: *The Kingdom of Swaziland for all
of you geography wizzes (hi, Dad). Thembeni (which sounds like a town with a
lisp) to really narrow it down. Dad,
find Manzini on your world map and then Thembeni should be about a pinky nail’s
distance from it…or less. We’re in a
village about 30 km from the city (this trip has also made me incredibly euro
using km and such, BUT I still shave. I cannot, however, speak for my fellow
teammates whose names will remain secret. TALL THIN LOVELY BRUNETTE WHOSE NAME
IS ALSO A DELICIOUS CHEESE. I’m done now).
Tangent over.
Ah, Africa! My heart
beats for this place. I looked down at
my watch 2 days ago and realized that it had been exactly 8 months since I had
boarded that plane at LAX and embarked on this journey. A lot has happened. A lot has changed. A lot…well that doesn’t even begin to explain
it. If I’m being 100% honest (and, I
am) eight months ago I wanted to be a disappearing act. I literally wanted to leave America, travel
for seven months, help anyone and everyone that I could, reach Africa and melt
into the red dust never to resurface.
Obviously, I did not share my desire to become a volunteer for a magic
trick with my parents. The thought of
them tying me up was less than cool (because that’s what parents do when they
don’t want their kids, grown up or not, to traipse off to the other side of the
world in hopes of never returning, right? No?
Well…I was just making sure), so I held on to that nugget of info. I packed my oversized rolling backpack full
of all of the things I decided that I couldn’t live without, plus a small
truckload of totally unnecessary items and my Atlanta Braves foam finger for
worldwide photo opps (come on free tickets!) I did NOT think, however, there
was even an ounce of space available for my scars and hurts. Had I known, I would have found some more
unnecessary items to fill those crevices.
Alas, I brought those along as well and man oh man, my bag was
HEA-VY! Thank you, Jesus, for wheels. *Future Racers, get a bag with wheels. You’ll thank me one day. Back to the point (Adult ADD is a thing
right?), 2010 sucked. It hurt. And as the days of last year came to a close,
it had been deemed the best/worst year of my life. Shoot!
Highest of highs and lowest of lows…in that order. So, I left.
I thought the best method of healing would come in the form of service
to others. Done. In the meantime, I tried to leave the crap at
home but it’s as stubborn as me and was apparently raring to get some passport
stamps so along it came. Boo. And, the journey would begin. Me, 40 other Racers and all my junk. Now it’s a party. Don’t worry, their crap snuck in their bags
too.
Wanna know what is ironic about all of this? If you are still reading, then of course you
do, but I bet you keep scrolling back to the top looking for that Copperfield
magic trick and insertion of a super awesome flog don’t you? Knew it.
I’m okay with that. The irony of
it all is that when I sat in the floor of my parents’ living room and utilized
my past Tetrus skills to get all of my stuff (plus the snarky crap) in that
bag, I was certain I wanted to leave forever.
That I wanted to disappear into a continent on the other side of the
world. That it would be Africa that
would free my heart, deliver me from the pain of the past and heal my
scars. Well, I’m here. I’m working on my third month in this land
that I love and I am happy (Mom, you are going to LOVE this part) to say that I
think it’s ironic that it wasn’t until this last month of Africa that I realize
I am ready to go home. My heart ached to
reach this place and it’s in the place that I thought I would never leave that
has lead me right back to where I started.
Home. I am eagerly waiting for
the day I get to see my family and my dog.
I cannot wait to hop back into my Honda Fit, trusting I can remember how
to operate a vehicle, and make that eastbound trek on I-20 toward Atlanta to
see my friends. I am smiling just
thinking about the panoramic view of downtown, Midtown and Buckhead that you
can see only for a couple of minutes when you crest the hill just before the
Six Flags exit. Then it disappears into
the horizon until you merge onto the disaster of the connector. Yep, it’ll be good to be home.
Ironic? Nah, not
really ironic at all. Just God doing
what He does best…healing the broken hearted and preparing them (me) for what’s
next. Something better than I ever
imagined. Sometimes you have to leave
what you know to realize that home really is
where your heart is. Aww shucks. Thanks, God.
You get another point in this thing called life. Geez, you are batting a thousand %. You. Are. Good.
He heals the
brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. Psalm 147:3
Hey David Copperfield, I’m gonna need you to zap me back to
America…well, in a couple of months. I
still have a few things to do.
Peace.
k
