on my heart;

i have been refusing to talk about africa because right now africa is on the other side of the world. it's over there and i'm over here and that is a long ways apart. it's not coming up in 5 months because i'm not on this years team.

there.

i said it.

i'm not on the team. i'm not going to africa this year.


i refuse to deal with this. i refuse to think about it. acknowledge it. understand it. work through it.

i refuse because it means that i won't get to have butterflies in my stomach while we drive up the dirt road and see the kids frantically lining up to sing to us and give us flowers. it means i won't have slobbery cheeks from all those kisses. it means i won't get to lay in the shade while someone braids my hair into dreads and sings sweet african songs to me. it means i won't get to see my sweet little jitu and see all the work God's been doing in her heart. it means i won't get to eat spaghetti saltada 3 times a day for 15 straight days. it means i won't get to practice counting to ten in amharic (aunt, oulet, sost, ahrat, ahmist, sehdist, sabat, sement...) [nine and ten get me every time!]. it means i won't get to chase the older kids around and tickle them until we're all crying in fits of laughter. it means i won't get to love on my little decho and teach him to not kick things. it means i won't get to walk with those kids and pray over them one on one. it means i won't get to hug all my neighbor kids through the barbed wire fence and sneak them treats until they've told the entire town of gouder that the ferengie have "caramela" and suddenly hundreds of people are yelling "laurdesa! laurdesa! caramela! caramela! laurdesa! give me caramela?" [that's how they say my name, if you were wondering.]


and all of that shatters my heart.

i don't want to deal with it because this is the first time since my church began taking teams to ethiopia that i won't be going. the first time. i knew the last time i went that i wouldn't be on the next team. God and i already had this talk. i knew it was coming. but that doesn't make it any easier.


so a few weeks ago evan and i went to lunch and we hadn't even sat down at our table when he said to me, "ihavetotellyousomethingit'snotbadbutihavetotellyou." just like that. then he spilled his guts about the two members of the team that had suddenly dropped out and if they could change the name on those two tickets we could be on the team.


the reason we're not on the team is because we need a financial break. it's like $7,000 for us to go. plus taking time off of work. plus raising that in a year. that's like $21,000 over the past 3 years. INSANE. we stress ourselves out trying to raise the money in time and still trying to live comfortably and still paying our bills [in that order, obviously].

the situation would be different if they could switch the names, but i shouldn't probably share a lot about that. just that we could make it work.

evan was  so excited. he was crying and ecstatic about the prospect of going back.

me, i don't know. he kept saying, "don't get your hopes up in case it doesn't work out." but all i could think was, "i wasn't supposed to go back. why is that changing now?" i wanted to puke and cry and kick something all at once. and i wanted to be excited because evan was excited. i wanted to FREAK my freaking FREAK about the chance to go home again. to go see our kids. to go back to the place where we feel so at home.


i prayed so hard over that. sitting at my work desk praying that God would either open this door or shut it real quick so i didn't have to sit in limbo and wonder whether or not i was going.

and as the day went on i started to get excited. it felt like a little bubble in my chest that i knew would burst with every correct and possible emotional response once i got that call that, yes!!! we were on the team!

but then initial reports didn't look good. and because of the way the church had purchased the plane tickets it wasn't possible to change the names. but she'd continue trying. but it wasn't looking good. but if we could come up with $7,000 in the next month we could go.

i had every correct and possible emotional response to this for 5 seconds. a 5 second cry and that was all.

but that 5 second cry changed my heart. something clicked and allowed me to accept the fact that i won't be going back to ethiopia this year. now when people ask me if i'm going back anytime soon, i can say with confidence and with a smile that i'm not. no more tears, no more running away to avoid that conversation because, well, people just don't understand how difficult $7,000 is to raise in about 9 months. and how missing one trip is sort of comparable to the end of the world.

and it's okay. obviously: i miss my kids like crazy. obviously: i'm sad i am not going to see them and even sadder for how upset they'll be. but i've been holding onto this sadness and anger and frustration with my inability to be there and i know that i should have been beyond angry that my hopes were dashed [but the truth is they really weren't] and that i was thisclose to going but now i have so much peace about the whole situation. my heart is completely changed and i know that it's finally OKAY.

there will be other trips. there will be a trip that's not on the church team where it's just evan and i and we sit in the grass for 10 days straight and love on those kids and we don't lift a single finger to do any sort of manual labor. there will be that. i think the lesson here is that i need to learn to be okay with not being in control and with not being everywhere at one time.

sorry, not sorry for the exorbitant amount of images. i can't stop/won't stop.