I absolutely love children. I love the way they view the world. I love the wonder and sense of accomplishment they show when they've just figured something out or created something for the first time, and I simply adore the childlike ability to imagine a world of infinite possibilities.
I'm finally beginning to learn a bit more about the personalities of the kids here, and there is one child in particular whose ingenuity and imagination both impress and delight me.
Johnny is truly an amazing kid. He is always building something. During playground time, he begs me to come build a tent with him (three sticks, a bit of string, scraps from a plastic bag, and a whole lot of imagination). He used some plastic lids and a few sticks to build a passably human-like "robot." He watched Lion King today, and just an hour later I found him in the play room making a 3D lion out of giant Lego blocks and these little magnetic sticks. He made it too tall and long at first. I suggested that he shorten the legs and the body, and he replied with, "Good idea. That way it won't be so heavy."
Johnny is an interesting character. In a lot of ways he is a leader and very extroverted. I kind of think of Johnny and Elias as my dynamic duo. There really is no limit to what might happen, good or bad, when the two of them are together. Johnny is also perfectly happy breaking off by himself though. There are times when he seems to prefer it-- like when he is building something. Nothing sets him off like a baby accidentally rolling into his giant block tower or a game of tag barreling through his stick-and-sand city.
My other child-fascination-of-the-day is Janet. She is the only one of the children (who can walk and talk) who shows little to no interest in interacting with me. I rarely get a smile from her. Today on the playground I was explaining to Queenie about how roots on a plant work (after she accidentally wacked Denny in the face with some massive plant that she had pulled up). As per usual, three or four other kids were instantly by my side the instant I knelt down. Janet hovered a few feet away. She was obviously listening at least a little, but she made no move at all to join us. I'm honestly not sure what to make of it.
I could go on and on about every other child here, but Jasmine just brought in a tray of cookies, and if you've ever eaten anything made by Jasmine then you understand why that must take priority.
Much love!
Monday, May 30, 2011
Sunday, May 29, 2011
No Such Thing As Goodbye
I've been sitting here for twenty minutes in the Morrow's living room watching The Avengers on TV and trying to figure out how to start this post. Excuse the disorganization-- my thoughts are frazzled, and my writing will probably reflect that.
We lost little Nicholas last night. Letting that little boy go is hands down the hardest thing I've ever done. He fought so very hard, but as Amy said, I guess Jesus needed him more than we did (although at the time I might have been willing to debate that point with the heavenly hosts). There is a feeling of such incredible helplessness and a little confusion as well. I am glad his fight is over, but I won't pretend joy was or even is my predominant emotion. There is something incredibly nauseating about a world that obsesses over celebrities and sports cars and selfish gain while children lay dying. All that could have been done was done for him, but there is so much more in the way of medical care that should be available to these children. "Be neither a perpetrator nor a victim, but above all, be not a bystander."
Amy asked me if he was the first patient I lost, and my automatic response was no. He was, however, the shortest, cutest, and the only one I was sitting next to. There's also a difference in a cancer patient whose "time has come" and a 6 month old baby whose life has barely begun. Let's just say I didn't handle it very well. And here I had just started to get rehydrated....
At the end of the day, God is still God. There is peace that surpasses understanding accompanying the death of those who pass away in Christ. We weep not because they were taken, but because we were left behind to figure out a world without them in it. I thank God that He held Nicholas when we could no longer, and I praise Him for the peace He has laid on my heart. Above all, I praise Him for the smiling faces of the other children who have captured my heart and tied it forever to Africa. Every laugh, ever tear, every tiny little hand in mine is reminder of Hope-- because in sweet Jesus, there is really no such thing as goodbye.
We lost little Nicholas last night. Letting that little boy go is hands down the hardest thing I've ever done. He fought so very hard, but as Amy said, I guess Jesus needed him more than we did (although at the time I might have been willing to debate that point with the heavenly hosts). There is a feeling of such incredible helplessness and a little confusion as well. I am glad his fight is over, but I won't pretend joy was or even is my predominant emotion. There is something incredibly nauseating about a world that obsesses over celebrities and sports cars and selfish gain while children lay dying. All that could have been done was done for him, but there is so much more in the way of medical care that should be available to these children. "Be neither a perpetrator nor a victim, but above all, be not a bystander."
Amy asked me if he was the first patient I lost, and my automatic response was no. He was, however, the shortest, cutest, and the only one I was sitting next to. There's also a difference in a cancer patient whose "time has come" and a 6 month old baby whose life has barely begun. Let's just say I didn't handle it very well. And here I had just started to get rehydrated....
At the end of the day, God is still God. There is peace that surpasses understanding accompanying the death of those who pass away in Christ. We weep not because they were taken, but because we were left behind to figure out a world without them in it. I thank God that He held Nicholas when we could no longer, and I praise Him for the peace He has laid on my heart. Above all, I praise Him for the smiling faces of the other children who have captured my heart and tied it forever to Africa. Every laugh, ever tear, every tiny little hand in mine is reminder of Hope-- because in sweet Jesus, there is really no such thing as goodbye.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Auntie Meghan!
I fell in love-- twenty-one times. This morning I walked out of my room into a simply beautiful African morning to be greeted by the cries of "Auntie Meghan! Auntie Meghan!" from across the courtyard. "Auntie Meghan, look at our new clothes! I love you Auntie Meghan!" Ernest got to me first, closely followed by Johnny and Elias, who I mixed up a lot at first but quickly discovered are absolutely nothing alike in personality. I helped the nannies dress the toddlers, and then a whirlwind day of laughter, tears, piggy-back rides, and potty breaks began. Chola told me his highest aspiration is to take a duck onto an airplane. Queenie is constantly trying to teach me Bemba (which I am really trying to learn). I'm doing my best to learn the nannies names. A couple of them are particularly friendly and have told me all about their families, their children, and pretty much any other aspect of their lives that I could possibly want to know about. One of them pointed down the road and showed me which house is hers.
To answer some of the many questions that I have recieved via facebook and email in the last 3 days:
"Are you crazy?"
Quite possibly.
"Do you like Zambia?"
ILOVEITILOVEITILOVEITILOVEITILOVEITILOVEIT.
"Which child is your favorite?"
I don't pick favorites..... coughcoughERNESTcoughcough....
Let's rewind a bit, shall we?
Sunday afternoon, I left home with my dad and traveled to Indianapolis. We stayed a few hours at a hotel and then went to the airport about 4:00am for my 6:00am flight. Everything went really smoothly, and before I knew it I was on my way to D.C. I had a 4 hour layover there, most of which I spent sitting outside of my gate playing with the 20 or so litttle African children who were also boarding a plane to Addis Ababa.
Not to go off on a tangent, but I really love airports. I love the takeoffs and landings, the beginning of adventures and the relieved homecomings, and the movement. No one stays at an airport forever-- they are a catalyst for the next step. Most of all, I love the people that you meet there.
Case in point: Sitting in the terminal at Indy I met a man named Elliot with half-Brazillian little 2-year-old twin boys named Noah and... um... Anyway, he was headed to Rwanda to head a program at an orphanage for Engineers Without Borders. On the plane I sat next to a new college grad from South Africa who told me his story of joining a gang at age nine, finding Jesus at age fifteen, going to college in upstate New York, and then heading back to his hometown with the passion and ability to make a difference. The little Ethiopian boy sitting in front of us really enjoyed the origami animals that I kept slipping onto his armrest. It was amazing to watch the wonder and awe in his eyes as he pressed his face against the window. The mother across the aisle was taking her two oldest children back to the Congo to visit her youngest daughter (age 3) who still lives there.
Twenty some hours later, I dragged my comatose body off of the airplane at Lusaka. Maybe I was just too tired to process words, but I could not for the life of me understand the woman at customs. Her response was to comb through everything I packed, which took approximately forever. Timmy picked me up, and we went to a woman named Lydia's house. Lydia was great. I liked her a lot. Timmy was incredibly patient and helpful as well, especially considering the hassles he delt with on his way to meet me. We ate out at a strip mall called the Arcades that evening, and then I slept a solid twelve hours. I only woke up once-- the mosquito net was wrapped around my neck a few times. The next morning we went grocery shopping for the orphanage (lots and lots of peanut butter!). Then we boarded the bus for Lusaka (That is an incredibly simplified description of the ticket-getting, luggage-loading, people-dodging, seat-fighting, bus-boarding process). The next 16 hours was the only part of my adventure thus far that I did not thoroughly enjoy. If I never hear Zambian music again, it will be too soon.
As far as prayer requests, besides the obvious health and safety for all here at Kazembe I ask that you pray especially for little Nicholas. He's sick (probably with Malaria) and is dehydrated. He hasn't thrown up today, which is really good. He's asleep on the couch across from me now hooked up to an IV. He's only about six months old. Nicholas is a fighter, but he still needs your prayers.
There is so much else I could say, but it will have to wait for another day. In summary, I love everything about this place.
Much love from Zambia!
To answer some of the many questions that I have recieved via facebook and email in the last 3 days:
"Are you crazy?"
Quite possibly.
"Do you like Zambia?"
ILOVEITILOVEITILOVEITILOVEITILOVEITILOVEIT.
"Which child is your favorite?"
I don't pick favorites..... coughcoughERNESTcoughcough....
Let's rewind a bit, shall we?
Sunday afternoon, I left home with my dad and traveled to Indianapolis. We stayed a few hours at a hotel and then went to the airport about 4:00am for my 6:00am flight. Everything went really smoothly, and before I knew it I was on my way to D.C. I had a 4 hour layover there, most of which I spent sitting outside of my gate playing with the 20 or so litttle African children who were also boarding a plane to Addis Ababa.
Not to go off on a tangent, but I really love airports. I love the takeoffs and landings, the beginning of adventures and the relieved homecomings, and the movement. No one stays at an airport forever-- they are a catalyst for the next step. Most of all, I love the people that you meet there.
Case in point: Sitting in the terminal at Indy I met a man named Elliot with half-Brazillian little 2-year-old twin boys named Noah and... um... Anyway, he was headed to Rwanda to head a program at an orphanage for Engineers Without Borders. On the plane I sat next to a new college grad from South Africa who told me his story of joining a gang at age nine, finding Jesus at age fifteen, going to college in upstate New York, and then heading back to his hometown with the passion and ability to make a difference. The little Ethiopian boy sitting in front of us really enjoyed the origami animals that I kept slipping onto his armrest. It was amazing to watch the wonder and awe in his eyes as he pressed his face against the window. The mother across the aisle was taking her two oldest children back to the Congo to visit her youngest daughter (age 3) who still lives there.
Twenty some hours later, I dragged my comatose body off of the airplane at Lusaka. Maybe I was just too tired to process words, but I could not for the life of me understand the woman at customs. Her response was to comb through everything I packed, which took approximately forever. Timmy picked me up, and we went to a woman named Lydia's house. Lydia was great. I liked her a lot. Timmy was incredibly patient and helpful as well, especially considering the hassles he delt with on his way to meet me. We ate out at a strip mall called the Arcades that evening, and then I slept a solid twelve hours. I only woke up once-- the mosquito net was wrapped around my neck a few times. The next morning we went grocery shopping for the orphanage (lots and lots of peanut butter!). Then we boarded the bus for Lusaka (That is an incredibly simplified description of the ticket-getting, luggage-loading, people-dodging, seat-fighting, bus-boarding process). The next 16 hours was the only part of my adventure thus far that I did not thoroughly enjoy. If I never hear Zambian music again, it will be too soon.
As far as prayer requests, besides the obvious health and safety for all here at Kazembe I ask that you pray especially for little Nicholas. He's sick (probably with Malaria) and is dehydrated. He hasn't thrown up today, which is really good. He's asleep on the couch across from me now hooked up to an IV. He's only about six months old. Nicholas is a fighter, but he still needs your prayers.
There is so much else I could say, but it will have to wait for another day. In summary, I love everything about this place.
Much love from Zambia!
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
My One and Only
I've always asked questions. I've always wondered why. I've always challenged and doubted with the heart of a skeptic, demanding answers to questions that I was told not to ask in the first place. It is a curiosity born from the desire for solid ground to stand on. I wanted Truth, but I didn't know where to look. I would like to say that I found that Truth, but I'm not sure that would be entirely accurate. Actually, He found me.
I was nine years old when I "gave my life" to Jesus. I remember lying in bed one night soon after I was baptized and asking God what it all meant. Why was I here? Why were any of us here? Did any of it mean anything, and if not, then was it worth fighting for? How could one confused little girl, plagued with doubt and prone to wandering, from a tiny town in the Midwest where a quiet and compliant existence was expected, possibly matter at all? What in the world was I supposed to do with my life?
I don't know if He answered, or if I asked, or if it was some culmination of the two, but before I closed my eyes that night I had dedicated my life to spreading the Gospel to the ends of the earth. More than anything in the world, I wanted Jesus. I wanted to be a missionary. I wanted to spend my life on something that would be worth the price.
Eleven years have passed since that night. Twenty days from now, I will be somewhere in the air between Indianapolis and D.C. on my way to Kazembe, Zambia to spend my summer helping at an orphanage. So go ahead-- ask me if I think dreams come true!
My deepest prayer in the last few weeks has been for a heart willing and able to learn. Curiously enough, it seems that the lessons He teaches me are often things I should have known in the first place. For instance...
Two nights ago I was babysitting three of the sweetest children on the planet. One of them has an acute affinity for a little Cinderella doll. I had just gotten them all tucked in and turned out the lights when she let out a wail that could impress a banshee. She couldn't find Cinderella.
Unfortunately, neither could I. I scooped her up and carried her downstairs, and together we looked behind pillows and under blankets for the lost little doll. My stomach began to sink as I realized that we may not be able to find her. I began trying to offer her a replacement, but no bunny, bear, doll, or blanket would do. No substitutes.
We did eventually find the little doll, but my mind was still churning hours later. A three year old little girl was smart enough to accept no substitutes. Was I?
So often in my own life, I forget to cling to Jesus. I forget to desire Him above all, and I let other things become my destination. He must be my Everything. Such a simple truth, and yet so very difficult for me to remember.
What a gentle but firm reminder from my King! As I sit here writing this, on the campus of my dreams, in the city I love, with a plane ticket to Zambia in my possession, I am first of all grateful beyond words for this beautiful adventure. More importantly though, I am reminded that if it all faded tomorrow, I would still have everything I need.
Phillipians 3:8
To God be the glory.
I was nine years old when I "gave my life" to Jesus. I remember lying in bed one night soon after I was baptized and asking God what it all meant. Why was I here? Why were any of us here? Did any of it mean anything, and if not, then was it worth fighting for? How could one confused little girl, plagued with doubt and prone to wandering, from a tiny town in the Midwest where a quiet and compliant existence was expected, possibly matter at all? What in the world was I supposed to do with my life?
I don't know if He answered, or if I asked, or if it was some culmination of the two, but before I closed my eyes that night I had dedicated my life to spreading the Gospel to the ends of the earth. More than anything in the world, I wanted Jesus. I wanted to be a missionary. I wanted to spend my life on something that would be worth the price.
Eleven years have passed since that night. Twenty days from now, I will be somewhere in the air between Indianapolis and D.C. on my way to Kazembe, Zambia to spend my summer helping at an orphanage. So go ahead-- ask me if I think dreams come true!
My deepest prayer in the last few weeks has been for a heart willing and able to learn. Curiously enough, it seems that the lessons He teaches me are often things I should have known in the first place. For instance...
Two nights ago I was babysitting three of the sweetest children on the planet. One of them has an acute affinity for a little Cinderella doll. I had just gotten them all tucked in and turned out the lights when she let out a wail that could impress a banshee. She couldn't find Cinderella.
Unfortunately, neither could I. I scooped her up and carried her downstairs, and together we looked behind pillows and under blankets for the lost little doll. My stomach began to sink as I realized that we may not be able to find her. I began trying to offer her a replacement, but no bunny, bear, doll, or blanket would do. No substitutes.
We did eventually find the little doll, but my mind was still churning hours later. A three year old little girl was smart enough to accept no substitutes. Was I?
So often in my own life, I forget to cling to Jesus. I forget to desire Him above all, and I let other things become my destination. He must be my Everything. Such a simple truth, and yet so very difficult for me to remember.
What a gentle but firm reminder from my King! As I sit here writing this, on the campus of my dreams, in the city I love, with a plane ticket to Zambia in my possession, I am first of all grateful beyond words for this beautiful adventure. More importantly though, I am reminded that if it all faded tomorrow, I would still have everything I need.
Phillipians 3:8
To God be the glory.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)