12 Days Post-Liberia

I find myself trying not to think about Liberia sometimes. On one hand, I can't keep it out of my thoughts. Each day I work on something to do with the trip... pictures, video, posts, paperwork for sponsorship, evaluations for what we did at the homes. I even dream about something to do with Africa each night (with maybe one exception) since we got home. But sometimes I actually try not to think about it. It plain ol' just makes me sad to not be there in moments. Funny, because in several ways, I was relieved to leave Liberia. I am so fickle.

I was relieved to leave the humidity and the sweat.
the filth
the exhaustion
the chaos
the 20 people to a van
and I was even a little relieved to leave my sobbing kids as they called out "Mama... Papa" while we left. Yes, relieved because it tore me open, in a way that I can't describe, to see and hear them, and to not be able to hold them and make it better. To not know what the future holds, and when I might see them again. I found it hard to breathe as I cried. I have never known that kind of grief and sorrow.

That's one reason I try not to think of Liberia sometimes, because I can see them. And whether my heart pictures them crying like that, or singing or playing soccer, or babbling away in their sweet voices... it's all pretty painful. It's wonderful too though. What a confusing thing! So precious to me are those moments of remembrance, but so raw and searing as well. It is hard even to write it out, but this has become my way to think it through and force myself to deal with it instead of burying it. Others can read this, or they can not... I don't really care... I just need to get it out so it doesn't suffocate me.

Some things are too tender even for this forum though, and I have to work through those things, as I do all the rest, with God. He knew it would be painful. He prepared Jason and I for it, and he is so faithful to hold us through it all. But this burden we carry is not without consequences on our hearts. Jesus said that his yoke is easy and his burden is light. I guess it all becomes heavy when we pick our burdens up and try to carry them on our own. We struggle under the weight, we stumble and trip ourselves up. When I ask him and allow him to carry the burdens for me is when I find rest. Rest and peace... and yet it is not pain free. I do have peace and rest, and I do believe that I am allowing him to carry my burdens for me regarding Kelvin and Hawa... not trying to wrestle them back from his arms to carry myself. And yet even in the midst of the joy and peace he gives me, I still deal with the sorrow of what the Lord has asked us to walk through.

I would love it to be easy in moments. I would love it to work out as we always hoped. I would love my heart not to feel as if it were "butter spread over too much bread" (as Bilbo Baggins would say)... spread over half the world to reach the children that my heart loves. But I always come back to the refining and completing work that God has done in me during the hardships... when he forces me to let go of my trust in anything but his own power and goodness. I don't want to know him differently that that. I don't want to know him in a lesser way. So- I will choose to rejoice in and be grateful for the road that he has led us on... maybe I'll cry as I walk forward at times, but I will certainly keep on walking.

So, on that note, here are some things that I want to remember about Liberia:

The way the children care for you and take care of you:
~Hawa tucking my "fla awa" (fly away) hairs behind my ears as we rode in the van
~Kelvin seeing sand on my leg and tenderly wiping it off for me
~ the children at the homes standing in the midst of the fire ants, while they wiped them from my feet
~kids who wanted to close my camera bag, put my lens back on, carry my fanny-pack and my supplies

The way we loved others and were loved in return:
~ teaching Kelvin and Hawa what zerberts are... and getting them in return
~ having at least 5 chidren attatched to my body in some form or fashion almost everywhere I went
~ receiving a bracelet from a beautiful girl who owned next to nothing in this world
~ holding "my" Sarah and Rebecca... and knowing that their hearts were full, as was mine
~ Washing sand out of Hawa's eyes, and holding her tightly so that she felt better

The joy:
~ watching my children do their african dances and sing their songs
~ hearing all the children sing {LOUDLY!} ... smiling the whole time
~ listening to Hawa call her brother a "cat-feesh" to insult him in fun.
~ holding my children with their arms wrapped around my neck


My Team:
~ knowing they loved every moment as much as I did, no matter the cost
~ hearing Matt's hilarious comments about "road safety week" and other such things :)
~ watching Vandora and Becky L. sign and communicate with the children at the deaf home
~ spilling my guts to Tori in her room one night
~ seeing how hard Angel works despite what she's up against... loving her for every bit of it
~ hearing Dora belly laugh at what the kids were saying in the van :)
~ Becky P's comforting of me when all I could do was cry as we pulled away
~ seeing Tommy with his son, Prince - and watching him dance in church w/ the Liberians
~ knowing Jason was right there, in this with me... all the way

Little Things:
~ pineapple and Liberian donuts
~ watching Kelvin and Hawa brush their teeth
~ the feel of a fan when you've been so sweaty that you don't remember what it is to be dry anymore
~ the beautiful outfits that the Liberian women wear to church
~ Oretha's scrumptious Liberian food!
~ watching the kids share their gum at the homes... many children enjoyed just one piece

The strange things:
~watching my kids eat their chicken, bones and all. Yes... bones...
~ the fact that I wasn't in the least concerned about the large cockroach in our room
~ driving, ALL of it ... 'nuf said.
~ realizing that the kids at the mission were playing with a rat
~ the generator for the church that drowned out the abilty to hear the people speak... and the rain that was even louder than that!
~ trying to find things in our room without lights