Today, I am tired.
Physically, I am tired because my circadian rhythm refuses to sync up to my life schedule. I've also cut back drastically on my caffeine intake, so I think that's exaggerating it. Combine that with a ferociously unreasonable homework load, and the result is far too few hours of sleep per night. I've recently determined to go to bed earlier on the nights that precede 8am classes. I'll let you know how that works out. I know I'm capable of it-- I managed to do it for most of the summer. Somehow I didn't mind waking up to the African dawn.
Emotionally, I am tired because as much as this fiercely independent girl hates to admit it, I really missed not being with family over Thanksgiving. Car trouble left me stranded in Nashville. I like to think that I'm a pretty strong person (or actually, I like to let the people around me think that... because vulnerability makes me feel icky), but some tiny voice in the back of my heart keeps reminding me that the time is fast approaching when my Thanksgiving nights will be graced by the southern cross instead of the north star. There are so very many things I will miss. I have several young cousins and a niece that mean the world and more to me. Some of them are young enough that their memory of me will quickly fade. I think a part of me has begun to mourn that loss.
Spiritually, I am tired because I am prone to wander. I love to pour into others. I love to sit with one of my residents and listen to how her world has been upturned, and I love being able to help her set it right again. I love making someone's day a little bit easier, whether by lending a dollar or washing a dish, and I especially love it if I can do it without them noticing (although, curiously enough, it would be difficult to do either of those things anonymously...). This shouldn't come as a surprise to me-- compassion, service, and concern for others should naturally be high on a nurse's list of priorities. And don't get me wrong-- I can also be an exceptionally demanding, possessive, and selfish person. Just ask anyone who ever tried to take Jessie out of my arms, or anyone who has ever been in my presence before dawn. Weariness ensues not because I give too much (on the contrary, there is much more I should give) but rather from a clouded perspective and a distracted lifestyle. Sometimes I forget that I'm not fighting for my life-- I'm fighting because I have Life. The fight is the same, but it's possible to fight the right fight in the right way for all the wrong reasons. I just forget sometimes that it has already been won.
Tomorrow, I will probably still be just as tired as I was yesterday. I will probably still be operating on a woefully small amount of sleep for no good reason. I will still love and miss those people in my life who are distant (or close but absent), and I will still pour my heart into loving and serving the people around me. But maybe, just maybe, I'll be one day wiser and one day stronger. Maybe I'll develop the self-control to crawl in bed earlier. Maybe I'll catch a glimpse of the exceptional community of people that surrounds me here and the priceless little ones waiting for me across the ocean and remember that distance doesn't dull that kind of love. And maybe my heart will put down all the pretty little trinkets it carries and cling instead to a Treasure as the voice of Advent whispers, "The not yet will be worth it."
In Bemba, the word for yesterday and tomorrow is the same: "mailo." Sometimes this causes a little confusion in translation. After a particularly nonproductive school morning last summer, Johnny could sense my frustration (although to be fair, I was barely attempting to hide it). "Don't worry, Auntie Meghan," he consoled me. "It will be better yesterday."
One day at a time.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
The Art of Giving Thanks
And thus commences the obligatory and cliche Thanksgiving blog post.
I have an unreasonably large amount of things to be thankful for, but fortunately for you, my attention span is way too short for me to sit here and write about all of them. So I'll just hit the highlights.
I am thankful for my family. We're a screwed up, sitcom-like, beautifully ridiculous mess, but at the end of the day, we always all still love each other. They've helped make me who I am, and I love them dearly. Also, I am thankful for those who are family in heart rather than blood.
I am thankful for my friends. The first few months of this semester were harder than I could possibly have imagined, and I truly don't know if I could have made it without them. They challenge me, they hold me accountable, they call me out when I'm wrong, and they pick me up when I fall. It's easy to look at your life and see things you want to change. It's much more difficult to actually effect that change in your own life. The support of friends who are also deliberately seeking God, who want to do what is right even if it costs them everything, makes the whole journey exponentially easier (or else it makes me stronger?). Somehow, I just don't think we were meant to do it alone. Maybe that just shows my personal self-control deficit, but there it is...
I am thankful for twenty-three little souls who mean the world to me, and for two more that the world just couldn't hold. They are not merely students, or patients, or summer camp kids. Somehow, in a way that I don't entirely understand, they moved into my heart and took it over. I have never loved anyone or anything as deeply as I love those children. It's not a vague "I-love-all-kids" or "I-love-the-poor-children-of-Africa" thing, though both of those are also true. It is a specific, deliberate, unquenchable, and personal love for each and every one of them. They are real little people, with their own personalities, dreams, and histories. Words fall short, so I'll stop trying now.
I am thankful for the residents of Kennedy Hall, fourth floor south. They are amazing girls. This RA job kind of dropped out of the sky into my unsuspecting hands this semester. Going into it, I didn't know what to expect, but I honestly believe that I have the best floor on campus. I haven't had any trouble with rule violations (unless you count the noise level, which is the direct result of excessive fun). They support each other, and they take care of each other. If one of them is sick, the others check on her. If someone is studying, another resident is likely to bring her food, or coffee, or at least a well-intentioned distraction. I am constantly uplifted by their compassion, dedication, and ability to bring humor into literally any situation. The vast majority of them are engaged on campus, in each others lives, and in the world in general. They exemplify what true community should look like. And very little of that is of credit to me-- they're just that great. I am so very proud of them, and I am honored to call them not just my residents, but also my very dear friends.
The few aforementioned blessings barely scratch the surface of this amazing gift of life that I have been given. There are many more I could write about, but those will do for now.
I wasn't exactly sure where I was going with this post when I started it, but as I skim back over it I notice that the three things that came to my mind first to write about were all related to people. These aren't necessarily the three things I'm most thankful for (for instance, salvation and grace would be somewhere much higher on the list...). That being said, they are apparently three things that fill my heart enough to spill out onto paper (or cyberspace). They are people who remind me what hope is and have shown me what love is. They have fought with me and for me, and for that too I am thankful. This raises some interesting questions and insights into my own psyche that I'll explore later (if I remember), but for now, I'll leave you with these words of wisdom from two very dear friends of mine-- Frodo and Samwise. If any two people were ever thankful for the support of each other, surely it was these two. Every journey is better if a good friend walks it with you, because eventually, you'll need them to remind you why it's worth it to keep walking.
"A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something."
"What are we holding onto, Sam?"
"That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo...
and it's worth fighting for."
I have an unreasonably large amount of things to be thankful for, but fortunately for you, my attention span is way too short for me to sit here and write about all of them. So I'll just hit the highlights.
I am thankful for my family. We're a screwed up, sitcom-like, beautifully ridiculous mess, but at the end of the day, we always all still love each other. They've helped make me who I am, and I love them dearly. Also, I am thankful for those who are family in heart rather than blood.
I am thankful for my friends. The first few months of this semester were harder than I could possibly have imagined, and I truly don't know if I could have made it without them. They challenge me, they hold me accountable, they call me out when I'm wrong, and they pick me up when I fall. It's easy to look at your life and see things you want to change. It's much more difficult to actually effect that change in your own life. The support of friends who are also deliberately seeking God, who want to do what is right even if it costs them everything, makes the whole journey exponentially easier (or else it makes me stronger?). Somehow, I just don't think we were meant to do it alone. Maybe that just shows my personal self-control deficit, but there it is...
I am thankful for twenty-three little souls who mean the world to me, and for two more that the world just couldn't hold. They are not merely students, or patients, or summer camp kids. Somehow, in a way that I don't entirely understand, they moved into my heart and took it over. I have never loved anyone or anything as deeply as I love those children. It's not a vague "I-love-all-kids" or "I-love-the-poor-children-of-Africa" thing, though both of those are also true. It is a specific, deliberate, unquenchable, and personal love for each and every one of them. They are real little people, with their own personalities, dreams, and histories. Words fall short, so I'll stop trying now.
I am thankful for the residents of Kennedy Hall, fourth floor south. They are amazing girls. This RA job kind of dropped out of the sky into my unsuspecting hands this semester. Going into it, I didn't know what to expect, but I honestly believe that I have the best floor on campus. I haven't had any trouble with rule violations (unless you count the noise level, which is the direct result of excessive fun). They support each other, and they take care of each other. If one of them is sick, the others check on her. If someone is studying, another resident is likely to bring her food, or coffee, or at least a well-intentioned distraction. I am constantly uplifted by their compassion, dedication, and ability to bring humor into literally any situation. The vast majority of them are engaged on campus, in each others lives, and in the world in general. They exemplify what true community should look like. And very little of that is of credit to me-- they're just that great. I am so very proud of them, and I am honored to call them not just my residents, but also my very dear friends.
The few aforementioned blessings barely scratch the surface of this amazing gift of life that I have been given. There are many more I could write about, but those will do for now.
I wasn't exactly sure where I was going with this post when I started it, but as I skim back over it I notice that the three things that came to my mind first to write about were all related to people. These aren't necessarily the three things I'm most thankful for (for instance, salvation and grace would be somewhere much higher on the list...). That being said, they are apparently three things that fill my heart enough to spill out onto paper (or cyberspace). They are people who remind me what hope is and have shown me what love is. They have fought with me and for me, and for that too I am thankful. This raises some interesting questions and insights into my own psyche that I'll explore later (if I remember), but for now, I'll leave you with these words of wisdom from two very dear friends of mine-- Frodo and Samwise. If any two people were ever thankful for the support of each other, surely it was these two. Every journey is better if a good friend walks it with you, because eventually, you'll need them to remind you why it's worth it to keep walking.
"A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something."
"What are we holding onto, Sam?"
"That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo...
and it's worth fighting for."
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
I Hope You Dance.
Today, I want to dance. I want to push the table over to the far end of the dining room, open the door to the crisp night African air, and jig the night away. Unfortunately, my Nashville life has an acute shortage of African air and free-time at night, so it's probably not going to happen.
We spent many nights dancing the soles off our feet last summer, and I remember them fondly. Elegance and grace are not my strong points (let's go play in the DIRT!), but I did at least enjoy myself.
Towards the end of the summer, we decided to try and teach the kinders the Irish Jig.
I'm a glutton for punishment.
Johnny didn't want to dance with anyone and was exceptionally uncooperative. Queenie was incredibly confused and kept tripping over her own long legs. Ernest cried because Queenie wouldn't dance with him. Chola was mildly baffled, and Theresa tried really hard but couldn't quite get the counting down.
And then there was Elias.
Going into it, I didn't expect any participation from him at all. We had played group games like soccer and kickball several times through the summer, and many times he simply refused to participate. He generally did okay with Duck Duck Goose, but if there was a ball involved then he wanted no part of it. Every other kid had their thing that they excelled at, but I just couldn't figure out where Elias fit (other than in the time-out chair). Johnny loved the pig organs I showed them, but Elias was thoroughly disgusted.
Elias didn't just lack the general gusto of avid participation, but he also frequently deliberately acted up. He took a pair of scissors to his new book and beanie baby and shredded them both. Here he is picking up the innards of the poor stuffed walrus that he disemboweled.
But the second that music turned on, something clicked for him. It was as though music ran in his veins instead of blood. I tried to walk him through how to do the Jig, but he was having a hard time doing it and learning it simultaneously. So he stepped back and watched my footwork as I walked through it one time. Then he did it perfectly.
Not only did he pick it up almost instantly, but he clearly loved it. His eyes lit up and he looked at me with wonder shining from his eyes, as if to say, "Look! I did something right!" We danced for an hour or so, and then they all scurried off to their next activity. Several times over the next few days, he would come and tug on my shirt and say, "Auntie Meghan, will you dance with me?" Here we are mid-jig:
We spent many nights dancing the soles off our feet last summer, and I remember them fondly. Elegance and grace are not my strong points (let's go play in the DIRT!), but I did at least enjoy myself.
Towards the end of the summer, we decided to try and teach the kinders the Irish Jig.
I'm a glutton for punishment.
Johnny didn't want to dance with anyone and was exceptionally uncooperative. Queenie was incredibly confused and kept tripping over her own long legs. Ernest cried because Queenie wouldn't dance with him. Chola was mildly baffled, and Theresa tried really hard but couldn't quite get the counting down.
And then there was Elias.
Going into it, I didn't expect any participation from him at all. We had played group games like soccer and kickball several times through the summer, and many times he simply refused to participate. He generally did okay with Duck Duck Goose, but if there was a ball involved then he wanted no part of it. Every other kid had their thing that they excelled at, but I just couldn't figure out where Elias fit (other than in the time-out chair). Johnny loved the pig organs I showed them, but Elias was thoroughly disgusted.
 |
| Photo credit Zeger Van den Broele |
Elias didn't just lack the general gusto of avid participation, but he also frequently deliberately acted up. He took a pair of scissors to his new book and beanie baby and shredded them both. Here he is picking up the innards of the poor stuffed walrus that he disemboweled.
But the second that music turned on, something clicked for him. It was as though music ran in his veins instead of blood. I tried to walk him through how to do the Jig, but he was having a hard time doing it and learning it simultaneously. So he stepped back and watched my footwork as I walked through it one time. Then he did it perfectly.
Not only did he pick it up almost instantly, but he clearly loved it. His eyes lit up and he looked at me with wonder shining from his eyes, as if to say, "Look! I did something right!" We danced for an hour or so, and then they all scurried off to their next activity. Several times over the next few days, he would come and tug on my shirt and say, "Auntie Meghan, will you dance with me?" Here we are mid-jig:
There was kind of a running joke this summer concerning Elias's lovability. I would often inform Amy that she would have a few free beds come August when I had to leave, because I fully intended to take a few... or all... of the kids with me. I had two suitcases and a carry-on to work with, so I was pretty sure I could fit most of them. "I'm taking them all!" I would threaten. Her innocent reply was usually, "Except Elias?"
After much deliberation, I've decided I would take him too. I could teach him to play the saxaphone and the piano. I have some friends in a (freaking amazing) a capella group here on campus, and I would love for him to see and hear them sing. His little head would probably just explode from sheer delight. The sounds and beats of Nashville might just sync up to the odd little rhythm of his michievous, trouble-making, jig-dancing soul. I think he should come and visit Auntie Meghan for a while...
Then I would at least have someone to dance with.
Monday, November 14, 2011
My Little Doctor
Pharmacology class makes me think of Johnny.
In a way, I'm kind of okay with that. It means I have something to daydream about during the 3 painful hours of lecture every Monday morning.
I think he would love this class. In a few years, I mean. I love the way that kid thinks. I think it's partly because he reminds me of myself as a kid, only he's smarter. He loves the complexities of how things work, how the body functions, how to make something out of nothing. He can look at a pile of trash and see a completed project. He figured out he could run a string taut between two sticks to make a straight line so that his wall wouldn't be crooked. When I was teaching the kids about the major organs in the body, he was always one step ahead, making connections that they others didn't even grasp at and asking questions that logically led to the next step in whatever process we were discussing. I had to teach him about some of the accessory organs that the other kids never learned about because it was the only way to answer his questions. He is both curious and brilliant, and that is a beautiful combination.
I know he's only a kindergartener, but I've got pretty high hopes for this kid. I'm itching all over to get back over there and keep teaching him. He absorbed an awful lot of information in the 2.5 months that I was there, but I suspect he will not retain much of the science based material. He simply doesn't use it enough. I bet he picks it up again quickly, though. He really loves to learn, and he loves to make other people proud of him. There were many times when he would finish a worksheet or a book and say, "Auntie Meghan, I did it for you!"
Maybe I'm a little biased (yay science yay!), but I think he would make a simply fantastic doctor. He wouldn't have nearly the bedside manner that Chola would have, and he doesn't have Queenie's natural compassion and protectiveness...
Still, that doesn't mean he hasn't shown those attributes many, many times. And he has a tenacity and a sense of justice that might just convince him he can make a difference in the world. Lord willing, he will never outgrow that. But I digress...
Look at his face here. He's pushing in on the lung to see it deflate.
He asked why I sometimes gave him medicine when he was sick and sometimes did not. This led to a discussion about the difference between bacteria and viruses. He's asking if the spot on his left arm needs antibacterial or if his white blood cells can just eat the germs.
He usually plays pretty independently if he is making or building something, but every once in a while he would grudgingly allow one of the little ones to play with him. He wasn't always exceptionally happy about it, but...
I gotta say, folks-- I really miss this kid.
In a way, I'm kind of okay with that. It means I have something to daydream about during the 3 painful hours of lecture every Monday morning.
I think he would love this class. In a few years, I mean. I love the way that kid thinks. I think it's partly because he reminds me of myself as a kid, only he's smarter. He loves the complexities of how things work, how the body functions, how to make something out of nothing. He can look at a pile of trash and see a completed project. He figured out he could run a string taut between two sticks to make a straight line so that his wall wouldn't be crooked. When I was teaching the kids about the major organs in the body, he was always one step ahead, making connections that they others didn't even grasp at and asking questions that logically led to the next step in whatever process we were discussing. I had to teach him about some of the accessory organs that the other kids never learned about because it was the only way to answer his questions. He is both curious and brilliant, and that is a beautiful combination.
I know he's only a kindergartener, but I've got pretty high hopes for this kid. I'm itching all over to get back over there and keep teaching him. He absorbed an awful lot of information in the 2.5 months that I was there, but I suspect he will not retain much of the science based material. He simply doesn't use it enough. I bet he picks it up again quickly, though. He really loves to learn, and he loves to make other people proud of him. There were many times when he would finish a worksheet or a book and say, "Auntie Meghan, I did it for you!"
Maybe I'm a little biased (yay science yay!), but I think he would make a simply fantastic doctor. He wouldn't have nearly the bedside manner that Chola would have, and he doesn't have Queenie's natural compassion and protectiveness...
Still, that doesn't mean he hasn't shown those attributes many, many times. And he has a tenacity and a sense of justice that might just convince him he can make a difference in the world. Lord willing, he will never outgrow that. But I digress...
Look at his face here. He's pushing in on the lung to see it deflate.
 |
| Photo credit Zeger Van den Broele |
He probably had no idea this one was being taken. He's hard at work building a fortress.
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| Photo credit Zeger Van den Broele |
He asked why I sometimes gave him medicine when he was sick and sometimes did not. This led to a discussion about the difference between bacteria and viruses. He's asking if the spot on his left arm needs antibacterial or if his white blood cells can just eat the germs.
 |
| Photo credit Zeger Van den Broele |
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| Photo credit Zeger Van den Broele |
I gotta say, folks-- I really miss this kid.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
I shall...
My freshman year of college, I took an Honors writing class in which we were required to write a personal credo. I stumbled upon it as I was organizing the hundreds of random files saved in every place imaginable on my computer, and I had to pause for a moment and wonder: Have I held true to this? If I were to write it today, would it say the same thing? More on that to follow later, but for now...
This is what I shall do: forgive those who do not deserve it, love the unlovable, fight for those who cannot fight for themselves, and refuse to over-look injustice. I shall be bold in my endeavors, never relenting in the pursuit of truth and the greater good. I shall attempt in every way to truly be the body of Christ, to see people through His eyes, to bless and not curse, and to touch the lepers. I shall put my heart on the line, knowing full well that it will probably get trampled, for in doing so I invite others to trust their own hearts. I shall rise above my circumstances, for although they have shaped my path, they will not define my life. I shall find victory in surrender and worth in poverty. I shall dwell in the moment, fearing neither the present nor the future, but embracing this amazing gift called life. I shall cherish the promise of the sunrise, dancing in my heart for the joy of the morning, for each day is a gift, and I shall never wish one away. I shall lead by serving, throwing every ounce of my being into alleviating the human agony, both physical and spiritual, in order that I might spend my life on something that is worth the price. I shall fervently try to judge no person by his outward appearance, but rather by the overflow of his heart. I shall avoid self-pity and empty excuses. I shall shoulder the responsibility for my own mistakes. I shall push myself always, refusing the stagnant dry-rot of complacency. I shall build my relationships on trust and honesty, my standards on the scriptures, and my life on Jesus Christ. I shall not limit God by boxing him in with my narrow expectations and stunted understanding. I shall be open to new ideas and acceptant of differing perspectives, yet I shall not compromise my convictions to please the crowd. I shall be financially wise and prudent, yet I shall give freely where the need is true. I shall never stop learning, and I shall never consider myself better than others. I shall dance is if no one is watching, for even if they are, the dance is not for them. I shall love passionately, trust deeply, and laugh freely. I shall live adventurously, for life is simply too short to waste on boredom.
This is what I shall do: forgive those who do not deserve it, love the unlovable, fight for those who cannot fight for themselves, and refuse to over-look injustice. I shall be bold in my endeavors, never relenting in the pursuit of truth and the greater good. I shall attempt in every way to truly be the body of Christ, to see people through His eyes, to bless and not curse, and to touch the lepers. I shall put my heart on the line, knowing full well that it will probably get trampled, for in doing so I invite others to trust their own hearts. I shall rise above my circumstances, for although they have shaped my path, they will not define my life. I shall find victory in surrender and worth in poverty. I shall dwell in the moment, fearing neither the present nor the future, but embracing this amazing gift called life. I shall cherish the promise of the sunrise, dancing in my heart for the joy of the morning, for each day is a gift, and I shall never wish one away. I shall lead by serving, throwing every ounce of my being into alleviating the human agony, both physical and spiritual, in order that I might spend my life on something that is worth the price. I shall fervently try to judge no person by his outward appearance, but rather by the overflow of his heart. I shall avoid self-pity and empty excuses. I shall shoulder the responsibility for my own mistakes. I shall push myself always, refusing the stagnant dry-rot of complacency. I shall build my relationships on trust and honesty, my standards on the scriptures, and my life on Jesus Christ. I shall not limit God by boxing him in with my narrow expectations and stunted understanding. I shall be open to new ideas and acceptant of differing perspectives, yet I shall not compromise my convictions to please the crowd. I shall be financially wise and prudent, yet I shall give freely where the need is true. I shall never stop learning, and I shall never consider myself better than others. I shall dance is if no one is watching, for even if they are, the dance is not for them. I shall love passionately, trust deeply, and laugh freely. I shall live adventurously, for life is simply too short to waste on boredom.
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