Me & My Drum

Shhh! Listen! Do you hear that?!

Those drums. Those are Narnian drums. Spring is here. The world is waking up, and I’m almost there.

Time is passing too quickly and yet barely moving all at the same time.  I have so much to do in the next week. We fly out on May 19^th, but since I’ll be leaving Illinois on the morning of the 17^th, I really only have one week left to have everything gathered, packed, and ready to go. 

I spent a few hours last night working out lesson plans for the kids.  Mostly I’m just trying to make sure I don’t forget anything that I might want later on in the way of school supplies or teaching tools.  We have a fold-out world map and a children’s atlas, and I found some kids’ fact books about different countries (Brazil, China, India, Greece, Mexico, Egypt… maybe a couple more?). I’m hoping to talk about a different continent or area of the world each week and use the books as focus lessons. World history and geography are obviously not incredibly high on a 1^st grade Zambian orphan’s academic needs, but I think it’s important to encourage curiosity in their world. Of course there will be math, reading, and science too, and I’m planning to incorporate spelling more heavily as well.

I’ve also been comparing different first grade learning objectives and standards to try and piece together a more comprehensive curriculum.  The workbooks we use have a list of learning objectives, but I found last year that, at least for my teaching style, the list leaves several knowledge gaps. It took me several weeks last year to really get into an efficient rhythm of teaching.

The last few weeks have been positively bursting with hopeful possibilities. I brainstormed with some professors about the possibility of study abroad making its way into the nursing program at Belmont. A pharmacy professor happened to walk in the office of a nursing professor just as she was opening an email I sent her, and a few days later I found myself in that pharmacy professor’s office as she explained how she could arrange and adapt the clinic inventory from the orphanage into a much more user-friendly format, complete with pediatric dosages and recommendations for equipment or medications to obtain.  Then I went to drop something off with my aunt at the hospital where she works only to be introduced to a truly amazing nurse that she works with who had spent two years working in Mozambique.  She was able to provide me with a wealth of advice and several organized treatment protocols that she had used and developed while she was there. Most of all, she left me with the feeling that our souls would understand each other. We have seen the same worlds. There’s always that moment when someone finds out I’m spending another summer in Africa where they comment or ask a generic and awkward question and I’m not sure how to respond. Sometimes they really want to know; sometimes the query is born from dumbfounded obligation. I have just as much trouble sharing Africa with Americans as I do explaining America to Africans. The culture gap there is huge, and I don’t really belong in either one of them. I really could not care less about pop culture. Spending more than ten bucks at a time makes my soul itchy, but I also like long hot showers and have been known to waste weeks of my life watching all the seasons of Lost back-to-back… I’m a bit of a cultural misfit at the moment, and I suspect I always will be. I just got the feeling that somehow, at least a little bit, that nurse would understand my heart. That might be the greatest gift she offered that night; it’s not one I receive very often.

This Sunday I was given the opportunity to share my journey and my future plans (HA! as if my plans ever work out the way I think they will…) with my home church. I can speak in front of almost anyone with no qualms at all.  I spoke to 1200 incoming students and their families at a preview day at Belmont this spring and barely batted an eyelash. I’ve debated at the national level and presented to several groups and organizations. I’m always “ready” to talk about Africa, and I’ve done it (and done it well) on a moment's notice on more than one occasion before.

The moment I stepped in front of that church though, something changed. These people are my family. Many of them have known me since I was born. As I stood trembling in front of that church and scanned the crowd, thoughts like “She probably changed my diaper when I was a baby” kept popping into my head. ‘Twas a wee bit distracting.  I did not even remotely come close to clearly expressing or representing the terrible heartbreaking beauty of Africa and her people. I’ve never been good at asking for help, you see.  When I urge someone to give to missions, my motivation is two-fold: First, obviously, there is desperate need.  Second, we were created to make much of God. So many times in scripture, God lays out what He sees as true worship, pure religion, and righteous living, and those passages paint a picture of selfless service and generosity that places others ahead of ourselves. So yes, I want you to give because I have watched children die from lack of adequate medical care.  But I also want you to give because I really do think it’s the better way of life. We think far too little of eternity and what will matter then.  I don’t mean this in a you-should-be-a-better-Christian-and-give-more-stuff-to-poor-kids way… It’s more of an I-desperately-want-you-to-experience-the-freedom-and-unspeakable-joy-of-finding-Jesus-amongst-the-least-of-these way… That line of belief felt unexpectedly barbed and difficult to articulate to a room full of people who have known me forever.

So I have a confession… I’m staying up until midnight just so I can celebrate the one-week mark. At midnight, I’ll only have one week (and the 23 hours 59 minutes left in the day…) until the day that we leave. Everyone else in the house is already asleep. David already said goodnight, and since Emily and Sarah are nice, normal people, they’re probably already sleeping as well. So I shall celebrate silently, by myself, curled up here in this recliner, and that will be enough.

Now run along, little faun. The Narnians Zambians are just waking up right now, but my night is nearing an end. I venture now to the bathroom to get ready for bed. I’ll dawdle as much as humanly possible until that clock finally strikes midnight. One day closer. Aslan is on the move.