By the time you hit month 9 of a trip like this one, there are certain things that become basically normal. Things that might’ve shocked you at home, but now it just…IS…and you expect it. Here’s a list of some things I came up with:
What I’ve
gotten used to:
Dead rotting animal carcasses on the side of the road. Like…puppies.
Open sewers you have to really be aware of; would NOT want to fall in those!
Trust me. I really think you’d probably die.
Baboons all over the place.
Power outages – they don’t even stop our conversations anymore!
Water shortage – if there’s water and you’re dirty, SHOWER. My water tip for
world travelers to remember: Here today, gone tomorrow.
My broken laptop screen…I’m so used to it that when I do get to use a full
screen computer it’s overwhelming.
Children who scream and run from us like we’re the scariest thing they’ve ever
seen.
Finding Ziplocs in random places in my pack and feeling like it’s Christmas.
Laughing about bodily functions that really aren’t all that funny.
Having strange men profess their love to me in broken and often vulgar english
– and consistently wanting to punch them in the face.
Mosquito bites. They’re about as normal to me as having dirty feet – it’s sort
of like breathing; it just happens.
Dirty clothes. Handwashing dirty clothes…and then having your clothes
disappear. Cowardly stealing, I call it.
Waking up to strange unidentifiable noises at any hour of the night or morning,
and promptly putting in my earphones to drown out the questionable noises.
Bugs landing in my food or drink…then without much delay or reaction, fishing
it out and continuing the meal.
Finding sweet sweet peace in the most unlikely places – like squatty outhouses.
Experiencing the “mystery crunch” in foods…as well as little rocks that make
their way into our food – and praying that God will protect my teeth. Yes, I
really do pray for that.
Sweating profusely while not even moving at all.
Speaking with unnatural pauses – for the translator of course! This might be an
issue when I come home and there isn’t a need for a translator but I still
pause anyway.
Not being alone, ever. Used to it but still don’t enjoy it.
Blisters on my feet from walking.
Dirt under my nails almost constantly, and sort of not even caring anymore.
Seeing military guys carrying around intimidating-looking guns. BIG guns.
Handwriting a journal entry in the dark…I’ve actually gotten pretty good at it!
Lumpy or thin mattresses…sometimes I’m pretty sure I could count the crosswires
under the mattress if I tried…
Pure silence being so beautiful I could cry.
Weird malaria-pill-induced dreams…trust me, they’re odd.
Loving the mosquito net. It’s been a great friend.
Playing and leading worship in front of people. Sometimes it’s a LOT of people.
Talking or teaching in front of people. Sometimes it’s a LOT of people.
Singing, without a guitar, when asked – this used to be enough to make me want
to die.
Experiencing the stealthy, awful curse of being raised in the USA – random
bouts of sickness that include (but are not limited to) diarrhea, nausea,
vomiting, and excessive vomiting.
Losing track of time. Not just hourly, but daily, weekly, and monthly.
Being introduced by a pastor who tells the congregation, “They have a word for
you,” and frantically praying that God will give me something to say before the
pastor calls us up to the front.
Being peed on by small children, right before getting up in
front of people and singing and speaking.
These are only a few.
A FEW.
Part of me decided that it’s about time for me to post a blog that’s just to
make you smile. The other part of me decided that this might be a good idea,
because when I’m at home and do something silly and slightly psychotic like run
outside to collect rainwater for a shower, you won’t think I’ve completely lost
my mind (this is a pretty intense example, but I’m just throwing it out
there!).
With all that said, please know that I am doing well, I’m
blessed beyond measure and humbled by it. I’m so thankful for every person who
reads my blogs; it means so much to me. Thank you for your encouraging comments
and emails – I value them more than you probably know. This journey is far
bigger than I – so I’m thrilled to have you with me, even if it is only through
blogs and email. Love and miss you!
