I Remember

A small dose of excitement and hope has filled my thoughts and heart today. I'm on a train coming from Philadelphia to New York City. The seats are comfortable, the car is warm as the rain falls ouside, making streaks across the window. As we roll smoothly by, I feel peaceful and still. It takes me twenty minutes to clear my head of logistics, budget deadlines, upcoming meetings, expense reports and unanswered emails. I persist through the mental sorting and as I close my eyes, I see the face of my Ugandan friend Edward. And the face of his daughter, Mercy. And then I see my Kenyan friend, Japolo. And Harrison. And Susan. And Benjamin. And my heart is warmed.

I journey through their homes, returning to the places where conversations happen and differences merge into a desired unity of the heart. I see and taste the water. And joy fills the core of my being. I walk the long path to the village and dream of being a permantent resident. I don't pretend to ignore the reality of the complexities and difficulties. I simply, in this moment, soak up what it is I love about Africa and give the broken attempts to fix the world to my heavenly father.

I want to return as a friend, not as a tour guide. I want God to show me what we can celebrate and how He wants me to see and interact with the world. I see the faces of those I love so dearly. I miss them. I miss being real with them. I want to be considered sister, or daughter. I want to know them. I want them to know me. I keep my eyes closed as I remain in these places, not wanting the train to stop or my imagination to be turned away. I can remember pieces of why I am in this. Ultimately, it can't be for me. But he has placed his heart inside of mine, and I am thankful for this sweet moment when I am aware of its beating. Oh that the train wouldn't end in NYC...