Then Came Wednesday

     Seriously, I LOVED being in Africa.  My heart longs to go back and it is so odd to think about a group going without me.  In fact, I really believe a second trip would be so much better.   So, this is an entry that is a bit odd, but it was a huge part of my experience.

During all the years we have worked with students it has been frustrating to us when they go to camp, a retreat, conference, or mission trip and have a mountain top experience but two weeks later it is life as usual for them.  How can they not be changed?  Who would have thought a trip to Africa is what it would take for me to finally get a glimpse of what has been happening.

     I was so blessed to get to know Gary Yonek on my trip.  He is a treasure!  He was along with us documenting the whole experience in photos and video.  He talked about how behind the camera made him feel like just an observer instead of a participant.  That idea stuck with me.

      Tuesday I came home to an empty house.  Ken and the kids were all at camp (yes, even Maverick!  Ken is crazy!)   Our logic was that I would be tired from the travel and time change so he would bring me the kids on Thursday when we closed on the house.  I had no idea how vital that day to myself would be.

      Tuesday night I rented a movie and just relaxed.  Then came Wednesday.  I woke up and my whole world had changed over night.  That morning I realized the house we built in Africa seemed like a mansion then, but it was only about the size of my bedroom (as I wrote about earlier).  I ran a couple errands and felt so alone.  Not because my family was gone but because the streets were full of cars but no people.  It felt sterile.  Cold.  In Africa, there were people everywhere!  In the street, along the street, in the market, in fact we drove over the grains people were laying out to dry because there was no where to go that was clear of people.

     These things kept happening to me all day long.  I started thinking about the sweet baby I wrote about that was sick and my heart just hurt.  People would call and ask how the trip was.  I had no words to express.  All I could do was cry.  I did not have these emotions while in Africa, so why now?  Don't get me wrong, it was sad while I was there but somehow that sadness multiplied times 100 now that I was home.

     I was flooded with regrets.  Why didn't I take the time to grab a translator and sit with people and hear their stories?  Why didn't I take more moments to play hopscotch?  Why didn't I pray for more people?  Why didn't I share my heart more openly?  Why didn't I just relax and be my silly self?  Why didn't I take the moments to get to know my team better?  Why didn't I try more than once to show the sick baby love?  Why didn't I dance with the people?  Why didn't I get a picture of... People would ask me questions about the trip and I would have no answer, all I could say was, "I don't know why I didn't ask that" or "I guess that would have been a good idea to do".   Usually I am pretty good on my toes and am able to share on a deeper level or connect with people.  What was going on?

     It had been less than 24 hours that I had been in America and I was lonely.  I missed being with my team.  They were clearly more precious to me than I had understood even a day earlier.  Donna (who went with us) was also home alone so we quickly decided to get together.  I found that she was feeling many of the same things.

     When Maverick (or any child) sees something for the first time, he usually just looks at it.  What is it going to do?  What do I do with this?  He simply takes it all in.  He may try and touch it, but for the most part he just wants to watch and learn.  While in Africa, I think I was just like Maverick.  When you go and do something you have never experience before, I think you just take it all in.  Watch and learn.  It was how Gary described only I was without a camera.  An observer.  A tourist getting all my pictures and my souvenirs.

       My brain was on overload.  It was taking in more than I could process.  Each experience was new and I did not have time to decide what to do with how I felt or what I thought.  I was outside my comfort zone so I was just taking each moment and trying to make it feel normal and comfortable.  "How can I dress to feel normal in this situation?  Is it a skirt day or pants?  We are not suppose to wear sunglasses and my eyes are extremely sensitive so today I think I better wear a hat to shield the sun.  Do we bring our own water bottles with us or do we bring the ones we bought?  Should I eat the fruit?  This is not pealed so I better not.  Did I take my pills?  I better grab some bug spray.  Does anyone have hand sanitizer?  Do I bring my camera this time or leave it?  Should I sit by a window so I don't get car sick or is someone else getting sick too?  What do I need to bring in my backpack today?  Now what do we do since the men from the other group are using our bathroom?  What time is it here?  Can I call home now or is it too late, or would it be early?  Is my mosquito net long enough?  Lizards!  No one warned me about lizards!  Oh man!  I wish I had my camera, I didn't know we would be seeing the hippos.  How much water should I drink or not drink so I can avoid the bathrooms?  How in the world did my feet get this dirty under socks, inside my shoes?"

     When I got home, it was safe.  No wild cards.  Nothing to preoccupy my thoughts.  Home is where I let my guard down.  My brain was open to think about what I had just been through.  I never knew that day to myself would be so incredibly vital.  Think about it, if I came home to be full time mom to four kids, close on a house and move right away, when would I have had a chance to stop and think.  When could I have been still?  Reflect?  Never.  It would have too quickly been life as usual.  Africa would have just been an experience.

     I would bet this is what is happening to our youth (or really all of us).  Mountain top experience and then life as usual turning what we did into an experience instead of a heart change.  The experience is the manual, the processing is the project.  What good is the manual on the counter if we never start the project?

    This changes everything!  Now taking kids to camp or on a service project is just the first step.  We need to take the time to ask questions that help them process what they experienced.  Help them take the time to let it shape who they are.  We need to do the same.

      Next time I get to go (because I hope with all my heart there is a next time), I will no longer be a tourist.  I have all my pictures.  I know what to wear.  I know there are lizards.  I know if I skip a malaria pill it is not detrimental.  I can consider using the bathrooms an adventure. I will be able to do more that watch and learn.  I can sit down and hear the peoples stories.  I can be still and process what God is giving me as it comes.

        Be still.  See what God is doing and take the time to let it cement into your life.  Allow Him the space to change your heart, your perspective, your passions.