I’ve never reposted, but after spending the weekend rereading Scared (an amazing novel about Swaziland) and preparing to lead a team back to Swazi, I felt like it was time to share this story again. After 7 years of blogging, this is one of my all time favorites. I had just returned home to Carlsbad after a month in Africa…
February 18, 2009
I was given a new lease on life this
morning. Sleep should be classified as a miracle drug. Joy filled
me as I woke up to a new day and watched sun light stream through the
windows.
morning. Sleep should be classified as a miracle drug. Joy filled
me as I woke up to a new day and watched sun light stream through the
windows.
I’m learning to be. While I was in
Gordon’s bay, Tom and Cindy (my amazing hosts) talked a lot about being with
God, instead of focusing on doing for God. Today I’m excited to be, and
let any doing flow out of that. Maybe later I’ll catch up on e-mails,
Biggest Looser, Chuck… or maybe not.
Gordon’s bay, Tom and Cindy (my amazing hosts) talked a lot about being with
God, instead of focusing on doing for God. Today I’m excited to be, and
let any doing flow out of that. Maybe later I’ll catch up on e-mails,
Biggest Looser, Chuck… or maybe not.
After a slightly weird breakfast of pulled
pork and Chai tea, my body was telling me it was dinnertime, the beach was
calling. My legs were dying to be stretched and moved after a 45-hour
travel marathon.
pork and Chai tea, my body was telling me it was dinnertime, the beach was
calling. My legs were dying to be stretched and moved after a 45-hour
travel marathon.
Warmth from the sun soaked through my
jacked and the rhythmic pounding of the waves slowed my mind. Hope took
over. The colors seemed brighter than they had ever been before, the
light reflecting off the water was almost blinding, the waves seemed bigger and
more full of life, the air more salty and invigorating. It’s absolutely
amazing to be alive, truly fully alive. Africa awakens my soul, and
allows me see this life with new eyes.
jacked and the rhythmic pounding of the waves slowed my mind. Hope took
over. The colors seemed brighter than they had ever been before, the
light reflecting off the water was almost blinding, the waves seemed bigger and
more full of life, the air more salty and invigorating. It’s absolutely
amazing to be alive, truly fully alive. Africa awakens my soul, and
allows me see this life with new eyes.
As I walked two women were holding the
hands of a sweet toddler with huge black curls and beautiful tan skin.
Every few steps they would pull up on her arms swinging her high off the
ground. They let go of her hands, and with a shout of unadulterated joy
she tried to run. For a few glorious steps she pounded her too large feet
and flailed her arms before her legs fell behind her body and she crashed hard
on her face. An apprehensive moment ensued as she decided if her injuries
warranted a good cry. The woman next to her, swept her up, dusted the
sand off her puffy pink pants and began throwing her into the air. At
that point laughing made more sense than crying, so she laughed.
hands of a sweet toddler with huge black curls and beautiful tan skin.
Every few steps they would pull up on her arms swinging her high off the
ground. They let go of her hands, and with a shout of unadulterated joy
she tried to run. For a few glorious steps she pounded her too large feet
and flailed her arms before her legs fell behind her body and she crashed hard
on her face. An apprehensive moment ensued as she decided if her injuries
warranted a good cry. The woman next to her, swept her up, dusted the
sand off her puffy pink pants and began throwing her into the air. At
that point laughing made more sense than crying, so she laughed.
That’s how I feel right now, like I’m
being picked up and invited into laughter. I know I’ve fallen and God has
swept me up. The joy of running, of living full out, is worth the risk of
crashing. There is something about experiencing death that makes the
beauty stronger, more evocative and brilliant.
being picked up and invited into laughter. I know I’ve fallen and God has
swept me up. The joy of running, of living full out, is worth the risk of
crashing. There is something about experiencing death that makes the
beauty stronger, more evocative and brilliant.
As I walked my legs were tingling and
itching, which was glorious after a two-day lack of movement and loss of
circulation. They itched so bad it was almost painful, but still felt
amazing.
itching, which was glorious after a two-day lack of movement and loss of
circulation. They itched so bad it was almost painful, but still felt
amazing.
A girl at that awkward pre teen age, not
quite a child, but still miraculously possessing youthful innocence, ran by
me. Her long blond hair fell wavy down her past her shoulders as she
tilted her head back drinking in the sunlight. I watched her as I arrived
at my turn around point where a lagoon empties into the ocean. One foot
deep and 10 feet wide, I didn’t even consider getting my shoes wet and walking
further. She didn’t consider stopping. Delightedly she stomped
through the water, splashing above her head, and watching the light reflect off
the cool drops.
quite a child, but still miraculously possessing youthful innocence, ran by
me. Her long blond hair fell wavy down her past her shoulders as she
tilted her head back drinking in the sunlight. I watched her as I arrived
at my turn around point where a lagoon empties into the ocean. One foot
deep and 10 feet wide, I didn’t even consider getting my shoes wet and walking
further. She didn’t consider stopping. Delightedly she stomped
through the water, splashing above her head, and watching the light reflect off
the cool drops.
My mind shifted to Eliza, one of my
favorites from Nsoko, roughly the same age. The girls shared same
exuberance and curiosity despite living in intensely different situations.
My time with Eliza while in Nsoko was filled with joy. Her love was a
gift freely given, pure and innocent despite the fact that she has witnessed
death, hunger, AIDS and malnutrition. On the last day before I left Eliza
sat on my lap for hours fascinated by the hair on my arms.
favorites from Nsoko, roughly the same age. The girls shared same
exuberance and curiosity despite living in intensely different situations.
My time with Eliza while in Nsoko was filled with joy. Her love was a
gift freely given, pure and innocent despite the fact that she has witnessed
death, hunger, AIDS and malnutrition. On the last day before I left Eliza
sat on my lap for hours fascinated by the hair on my arms.
(Eliza with her prayer card, 2010)
As I continued walking I came across two
elderly men, and one beautifully wrinkled woman, holding a umbrella to block
the sun. The men wore veteran’s caps on their white hair, and shorts high
on the waist. Their sturdy, weathered legs reminded me of my grandpa’s
when he was alive. Every couple of steps they stooped over to pick up
trash washed up by the recent storm. I stopped and told them thanks.
The woman responded, “You can put some pieces in my bag.” So I
grabbed a plastic lid and added it to the already full sack. They were
doing their part.
elderly men, and one beautifully wrinkled woman, holding a umbrella to block
the sun. The men wore veteran’s caps on their white hair, and shorts high
on the waist. Their sturdy, weathered legs reminded me of my grandpa’s
when he was alive. Every couple of steps they stooped over to pick up
trash washed up by the recent storm. I stopped and told them thanks.
The woman responded, “You can put some pieces in my bag.” So I
grabbed a plastic lid and added it to the already full sack. They were
doing their part.
Over the last few days I’ve realized, life
is not about making a movement, doing great things, or building something
huge. Life is about God and people, loving God and
loving people. All I need to do is my part, my piece, and trust that
others will do the same. As I sucked in a deep breath hope for Nsoko
filled my spirit. Each person has a part to play, a small piece and God
will work those pieces together.
is not about making a movement, doing great things, or building something
huge. Life is about God and people, loving God and
loving people. All I need to do is my part, my piece, and trust that
others will do the same. As I sucked in a deep breath hope for Nsoko
filled my spirit. Each person has a part to play, a small piece and God
will work those pieces together.
My mind drifts back to Dudu, dying at 26,
loosing the battle against AIDS, too week to hold her baby. She’s dying
and she is one year younger then I am. Dudu shakes and can no longer
walk, coughing wracks her frail body, the TB will most likely take her
soon. I got to hold her dry, clammy hand during church a few weeks
ago. I also got to hold her cough soaked towel as she hacked into it.
loosing the battle against AIDS, too week to hold her baby. She’s dying
and she is one year younger then I am. Dudu shakes and can no longer
walk, coughing wracks her frail body, the TB will most likely take her
soon. I got to hold her dry, clammy hand during church a few weeks
ago. I also got to hold her cough soaked towel as she hacked into it.
Dudu is dying and I am alive.
Experiencing death and dying causes me to embrace life in a new way.
Christ says that we all must die to our selves to be fully alive. That parable
has a new meaning to me. Life has new meaning.
Experiencing death and dying causes me to embrace life in a new way.
Christ says that we all must die to our selves to be fully alive. That parable
has a new meaning to me. Life has new meaning.
I finally plop down on the sand. The
itching in my legs gets even more intense and powerful. For me, this
whole trip was like a rush of circulation, the lifeblood is moving.
Something new and strong is pulsating; pushing it’s way through in an increased
desire to live what God has planned for me. I’m alive, truly fully alive,
and it’s glorious!
itching in my legs gets even more intense and powerful. For me, this
whole trip was like a rush of circulation, the lifeblood is moving.
Something new and strong is pulsating; pushing it’s way through in an increased
desire to live what God has planned for me. I’m alive, truly fully alive,
and it’s glorious!
Update – Dudu passed away shortly after I wrote that blog, but her son Sinetemba is doing well!
(Sinetemba, Dudu’s son in 2012)
