The reason my entries have become few & far between is simply a lack of words. No writing can do justice to the power of God I have seen at work. And that has been the same case since I have been back in the States. People ask about my summer, about Africa, but I don't know what to say. Half of me is a beaming smile when I think of the past 3 months, and the other half of me is a river of tears. I know. Sounds bipolar. But some of you may understand where I am coming from.
I haven't felt like myself for the past 9 days. It's like I'm a zombie going through the motions that I know so well, but my heart & mind are still an ocean away. I thought I was coming home, but now that I'm back it feels like I left my home in Africa. I keep wondering how long this will last. When will things begin to feel normal again?
For several days since I've been back to school, I have tried not to think about how lonely I feel. I've tried not to think too much about my precious kids, my friends, and all the sweet patients I met. It worked for a little while. But today is different for some reason. The memories are so vivid I can't ignore them. They make my heart hurt. A lot.
It tore me up to hear that all my kids got sick soon after I left Uganda. They are my babies, and I left them. I wasn't there when they needed me.
And then I think of the patients I met.
Baby Simon was just a few months old and so so sick - dying of AIDS. I felt so useless that day at the clinic. I had malaria but couldn't lay in bed for another minute or I'd go crazy. So I sat in the pharmacy. A young woman came in with her baby who needed medication. I held my arms out and asked if I could hold him. His eyes were glassy & could hardly focus, his tiny body was burning up, and his lymph nodes were so swollen I thought he had masses growing on his neck. Dr Ricky came in, and I asked what was wrong with the baby. "He has AIDS and is very sick. He probably won't make it much longer." Then he told me to give the baby 5mL Bactrim suspension. Simon's tonsils & lymph nodes were so swollen that he couldn't swallow or even cry. So I spent at least 15 minutes squirting small amounts of Bactrim in his mouth with a syringe and blowing on his face trying in vain to get the poor baby to swallow his medication. All the while I kept praying, "Lord, please help this baby boy. He needs a miracle." Today I keep wondering whether Simon is still alive.
That is just one of so many stories of people whose lives intersected with mine, maybe just for a short while, but all the same they have changed me. Now I am supposed to figure out how my time in Africa fits together with my life here in Texas. And I feel so lost.
My only comfort is that even when everything else seems foreign, God will always be familiar and near to me.
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