a chilled out 4th

This has to be the most low-key 4th of July I have ever had, even overseas. I slept in a bit this morning because a hedgehog in my room kept me up late last night. I laid in my bed in a state of semi-consciousness until I could no longer stand how sweaty I was and got up to shower. After a bit of coffee and doing my laundry, I spent the rest of the afternoon under the rakuba in our backyard reading a fairly boring book (but it’s better than staring into space). For the record, “Horn of Africa” by Phillip Caputo is not nearly as good as “Acts of Faith”.

I miss normal life, the normal things like going to the grocery store, shopping at Target, dinner with friends, wine. The blasé things that seem so mundane, but are actually normalcy. I know it seems crazy to miss since I am here in Darfur, which is perceived to be anything but mundane. But here, even the extreme, like car-jackings and office break-ins are normal. You just wait to see when it will be your turn……

People may think I seek a thrill, but I don’t really feel like this place is that thrilling (for me). Yes, you see AK’s and RPG’s everyday, and the rebels are all around. But it becomes a nuisance, another impediment to doing your work and less of a “thrill”. I have had two friends tell me this week alternatively that I am “tough” and “crazy”. I totally buy the “crazy” and may even add “foolish” to that list. But tough is not something that I feel I am. Brave is another thing people have said, but I don’t think that I am that either. The truth is I am the least tough or brave person around, I am just flexible and can adapt. The ability to adapt makes life here bearable. The ability to go without…

When I was in Ethiopia in May there was a woman I encountered from Australia who was talking about living in Addis and how she has learned what it means to “go without”. This made me laugh. Addis? Addis, where a good cup of coffee is like 50 cents and you can go to a nightclub or a movie? I chuckled because she had NO idea what it is really like to go without.

The truth is, I really don’t either. Yes I have learned what it is like to live with very few personal possessions or comfort items, but to really know what suffering is. To really know what “going without” is like…it is truly a foreign concept.

It’s funny, but here in Darfur I feel myself slowly coming back to life, very slowly. It’s amazing to me that last fall I told a friend that I would live in Bmore and just deal with it, no matter how much it broke me (and it was breaking me). And now I am here, and in this place of violence and impunity I am beginning to get healed. So strange.

I suppose it shouldn’t be surprising because ever since I moved to Baltimore I always saw the next step being the field. And I held it in and kept fighting to go to the field, pushing everything aside to accomplish that goal and not allowing myself to breathe until I was there. And now I am here, but I feel like I also lost out on the last two years of my life by ignoring all the growth opportunities that had presented themselves. Yes, I am here in the field doing what I want to do, but am I more stunted than I could have been? Could the road have been easier if I only submitted to God and what he wanted me to learn during my time in Baltimore?

I did learn, though. I did grow through personal experiences, no matter how painful they were. But I still struggle with things that should be behind me, and I wish I was better in that way.