I have been home for 22 days. Well, that depends on how you define home. If home is "where the heart is" then my home is in several places right now. A part is here in Virginia, US with my family. However, I am starting to realize that a piece of me will always be in West Africa and with Mercy Ships. Let me explain a few things that caused this to happen.
Ship Relationships. Living on a ship for 5 months with about 400 people was challenging at times. You literally eat, sleep, and work with the same people day in and day out. Sometimes we got on each others nerves. There were days when I simply wanted to have space to be alone and process what I was experiencing. However, instead of being alone with my thoughts, God often sent just the right person (usually one of my fabulous roommates) to share my thoughts and worries with. He has a funny way of turning our trials and difficulties into blessings, and I saw that in SO many ways.
Hope Center. If the only thing that I was able to do on this trip was play with children and talk with the adults at the Hope Center, it would have been more than enough. I can't explain how God used that place to expand my heart and increase my love for the people of Africa. Until I began visiting the Hope Center, I was honestly afraid of the local people. They seemed so different from me, and I didn't know how to interact with them. At the Hope Center, I was immediately accepted - before I could even greet all of the adults sitting around, children would be clambering for attention and wanting me to hold them. The children are not used to receiving attention, so they literally took any from us that we would give them. I miss their big smiles and joyful attitudes. I miss singing "Tell Papa God Tenki" and "Waka Waka" (Shakira) with them.
Poverty has now become personal to me. The faces of children that you see on those TV commercials now means something to me. I realize looking back that before I went to West Africa, those faces didn't really seem like humans to me. It seemed like their lives and families and problems were worlds away and unreal. I wasn't affected by it. However, now that I have met those children and men and women that are dealing with AIDS and malaria and recovering from a civil war, I ache for them. My own struggles in life are laughable in comparison to theirs. Before I went to Africa, this verse described me and still describes most of America. Ezekiel 16:49 says that the people were "arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy." I hope that God can use my life to bring hope to the poor and needy, both in the physical and eternal sense.
I feel a burden for the people of Africa. I cannot forget them. Shauna Niequist, one of my favorite writers, echoes my thoughts: "I had to clear away space in my mind and my heart, spaces previously occupied by easy things - groceries to buy, albums to download, people to call- and replace them with the weight of Africa, a heavy, dark thing to carry with me, something under which to labor, something under which to tremble. Because once you see it, you will never be able to un-see it, and once you see it, you will be responsible for it, and for the self it reveals back to you."
Leaving the ship was, to be honest, one of the hardest things I have ever done. There are several reasons. First, most of the people that I said goodbye to will not be there if and when I return. When I left home to join Mercy Ships, I knew that God willing, I would see my family again. But when I left the ship to return home, the farewells were different. I knew that I wouldn't see many of those friends again. Second, I have so many memories from the ship and Sierra Leone that I will cherish for my whole life. God taught me many hard lessons in the time that I was on the ship. I learned so much about the world and other cultures that I couldn't have learned anywhere else.
These are the lovely hospitality ladies that I worked with. During my time there, they became more like sisters and mothers than coworkers. (L to R) Marilyn, Susan, Savanna, Pat, Jenny aka"Ginger" and I.
The morning that I left the ship, about 15 of my closest friends gathered in reception and formed a big circle around me. One by one I hugged all of them, and the tears wouldn't stop flowing. We all led a procession down the gangway. I remembered the hundreds of times I had walked (or ran) up and down those stairs to go visit the Hope Center or other places, and to return to the ship. Then on the dock, I hugged everyone another time before my bag was loaded into the land rover, and it was time to go. As we drove away to the airport and I caught my last glimpse of the Africa Mercy, I felt like my heart was breaking. Forming deep relationships and then having to say goodbye has never happened this quickly for me, but I would never take it back to spare the pain. I still thank God for allowing me to know those people, for however short a time.
I miss it so much. A few things keep reminding me that the past 5 months were NOT a dream - my computer clock that is still set on West African time, the tan lines on my feet from wearing sandals in the hot sun haven't faded, and I still wear my Sierra Leone jersey proudly. Now, the reality of living at home is setting in. When I go for walks, I actually miss dodging potholes and poda podas, and the children running up to grab your hand saying "opatu!" I miss the chaos of everyday life in Africa. However, I am adjusting somewhat to life in the US. I'm taking classes at a local college, and preparing to start a nursing program in the fall. I'm very optimistic for what the future holds. And I have a feeling that the future might involve Africa...
