I Remember

There are few things more beautiful than a child's smile.

I've spent the last few hours uploading and editing photos on walgreens.com so I can wallpaper my room with my kids' faces.  My limited vocabulary falls woefully short of describing the joy that pervades my heart when I look at pictures from this summer. Videos are even better, and memories are best of all. So many memories resurface when I flip through these photos...

I remember the first time Jessie cried.  I was beyond ecstatic, because it was the first time she had found enough strength to use on something as nonessential as complaining about a diaper change. It made me so happy that I kept poking her just to see her protest.

I remember playing with the kids on the playground one evening just before sunset. They were all crawling through the metal tunnel, but Jack was too young to really understand. He would crawl through and then just turn around to go back rather than going back around to get in line. Chola stepped up to help and carried little Jack around to the beginning of the tunnel every time he went through.

I remember teaching a Bible story about compassion and service one morning. The kinders couldn't seem to understand why Jesus would ask us to feed and clothe people; after all, their clothes were neatly folded on the shelf, and their food was prepared and served at every meal.  I explained that not every little girl and boy has food to eat, clothes to wear, or a bed to sleep in. Johnny was rather hung up on the lack-of-beds situation.  "Auntie Meghan, I will become a carpenter and build beds for the princesses."

I remember climbing the mango tree in the courtyard one morning while the kids were eating breakfast.  They didn't realize I was perched up there and all came out to play, frolicking around and chattering in Bemba beneath me. Finally, Henry spotted me. "Look! Auntie Meghan flew up the tree!" The next hour consisted of lifting the older kids up to cling to the lower-hanging branches and fervently praying that none of them broke any bones.

I remember playing I-Spy one afternoon. Ernest: "I spy with my little eye something black." Johnny: "Chola?!"

I remember stealing Jack a couple of evenings in a row and bringing him in to work with him on standing and walking. And I remember the very first step he ever took. Towards me. I got so excited that I squealed at a decibel not normally audible to the human ear, grabbed him by the waist, and threw him into the air. The poor little munchkin was so shocked that he refused to even stand up for the rest of the night.

I remember Johnny taking my hand the day after Jessie died. He smiled so big that I thought for sure he had done something wrong and was about to try and weasel his way out of it. "Auntie Meghan, you love Jessie very much. I know." And then he walked away.

I remember the first time I gave a quinine shot to Gladys. She cried, and I hated myself. I hated that I had the ability to stab a child with a needle. I hated more that it was necessary. But I loved how the nannies called her mine. "Your baby, she is crying too much. Maybe you should take her for a while." Well, okay... if I must....

I remember Johnny's first book. I couldn't find the curriculum that Amy had to use with them, so I made a book with only short "a" sounds for him to read. He has a tendency to say "I don't know," or "I can't do it." Those two phrases were quickly outlawed. Every time he would struggle with a word, he would say, "I know! I know!" 


I remember Chola's inability to pay attention for any measurable length of time. He would hear his name and just offer a random answer to whatever question was posed. "Chola, are you listening?" "Nopes." "Chola, what's the first book of the New Testament?" "Small instestines!"

I remember Henry's propensity to run up behind me, leap on my back, and latch his arms around my neck, effectively cutting off all air supply and rendering me powerless to fight back. I generally ended up on the ground under a pile of Zambian children.

I remember Ernest and Queenie's adorable little friendship. Ernest is a tiny weedy little kid with an oversized head and a really high pitched voice. Queenie is exceptionally tall and beautiful. Both are Kinders. During playground time, they would wrestle. The scenario inevitably ended with Ernest on his back, Queenie sitting on him and holding his arms down, and Ernest cackling in laughter and mock terror, screaming "Awe! Awe! Awe!" (No! No! No!) while he futilely struggled to get away.

I could write for hours about the little moments that stole my heart one by one this summer, but unfortunately, I have to go memorize the mechanisms and side effects of a dozen different drug classes instead. Doesn't that just sound like so much fun?!

Until next time,
Mwende ubushiku bwapalwa.