I’ve always
been a writer, but never before have I written so that others could read; my
thoughts, open on the page, yet so carefully crafted. I write to find connection, my ink raging
rivers of thought and emotion, trying to find meaning in this great big
world. I write now, and as my fingers
move so haltingly over the keys, I pause to think of all of you, my friends and
family, you who have made me into this person I am today, who have loved me
through good times and bad; you who care enough about me to even read these
words, and to think about me, even though I’m miles away. I hope that wherever these words find you,
today and throughout my journeys, that you know my love flows through
them. Wherever my journeys may take me, whatever
paths I walk down, my wings soar on the winds of possibilities, and my roots,
sunk deep into the soil of love, remind me that there’s always a way back to
the ones I love.
I don’t know
what awaits me, and so I ponder the potential and think of all that has come
before. I wrote the following words one
night in my cabin, and because I don’t have stable internet, I’ve forgotten about
them until now. They’ve given me much to
think about, and I wanted to share them with you, even though it messes up the
whole chronological order thing. But
whatever, since when does life happen in any sort of order that makes sense?
It’s almost
time to board my flight, such a bitter sweet good-bye. I can’t believe how much has happened in the
past ten weeks, and can’t even imagine what the next fourteen hold. Looking back, looking forward, living and
loving now.
August 20, 2013
Camp. Is there even words to describe this
place? I can’t believe I’ve been here
eight weeks already, and I only have a week and a half left; this place where I
hear God’s laughter through the open window in my cabin and the breeze sings me
to sleep every night, and these kids who show me what life is really
about. When I first got to this place,
my only thought was, “I’m definitely not in Ohio anymore,” and I’ve loved every
minute of it. These old growth pine
trees and the sound of the Sandy River rushing below remind me constantly how
far away from home I am, and yet at the same time these sounds are strangely
comforting. It’s another reminder of how nothing ever is
just one thing; there’s a bit of happiness, of joy, of smiles, of laughter, and
also a bit of sadness and blues to every situation.
Being out
here at Camp Namanu has been all of these things, and at times it’s hard to
process it all. Riding bareback into the
sunset and making pancakes for breakfast and smiles and standing Os at opening
campfire and late nights with new friends, and phone calls to old friends and
letters from home, each step of the journey reminding me how many emotions
there are, how colorful the world truly is.
I walk up and down these hills, in Ohio we’d call them mountains, and
they wear me out and challenge me, and every time I get to the top I have to
pause and take a deep breath, pause to remember the effort it took to get here,
how great it feels here, great because of the journey that lead me here.
It’s hard to
believe that I leave to go home in two short weeks, and that in only five days
after that I’ll be on my way to Africa.
Is this real life? Sometimes I’m
not sure and at other times I feel like I’m in the middle of the whirlpool, of
the chaos, everything spinning around me.
And even though it’s crazy, and at times it’s really hard and I wish I
could be home, sitting at my dining room table or drinking hot cocoa on the
basketball court, I wouldn’t trade this time for anything. The time is short and there’s so much to do,
don’t waste a minute of what’s given to you… time is calling, and I’m off to
experiences all I can before the time is gone.
