I sit here, a mixed bag of
emotions, and I contemplate about what I’m actually feeling in this moment.
Throughout the day I was presented with random waves of uneasiness, intense
sadness, utter joy, bouts of frustration and fear, and oddly enough,
homesickness.
I could feasibly reflect upon my
initial proposed blog topics that await me in an open composition book next to
me in bed, intently staring at me, crying out to be shared; however, Grace and
Almandra, two sweet human beings with eyes so innocent, consumed the remaining
bit of energy within me this afternoon. Our brief, yet powerful interactions (bear hugs, kisses, sweet songs & smiles) finally
cracked my well-constructed personal dam, the tears fought relentlessly, and
then the guilt began to set in. Why am I here? Why am I not giving my own son
this much love and attention? Why did I leave my boys behind? Why are my
students’ futures as competent, respectful individuals so important to me?
Unsure whether it was my afternoon
hip opening postures on my mat, or my glance at a photo of my two incredible
boys back home that released the floodgates, but I felt raw, guilty for giving
too much love and my full self to students and natives in Tanzania, while quite
possibly neglecting my boys’ needs back home, guilty for abandoning the
students at Loamo come this Friday, yet guilty for leaving my son behind in
Michigan. Every single day Axel’s last statement before falling asleep the
night before I left resonates with me: “Mama, please don’t die over there in
Africa, please come back.” And yet I’m being pulled in the opposing direction,
as students and teachers here grab my hand, squeeze me fiercely, pleading,
“Please don’t go. Take me with you.” My heart aches, I feel wounded, but I am
sure that time will heal my recently created wounds. It always does, every
service trip, and so does the initial hug and squeal from my son upon my
return.
I possess a unique perspective, a
mother’s perspective, one that is sometimes difficult to express to fellow
chaperones and student volunteers, yet I am glad, as I have a mother’s love to
give, freely without hesitation, but it does come with a degree of regret that
I cannot fathom most days. God, give me the strength and courage to continue to
serve my last couple days with a full heart, to let go of my guilty conscience,
to continue to live by my morals and values, to support and empower my students
to the end, and to leave believing that I lightened their load, comforted the
lonely hearts, and ultimately left a positive footprint.
With much gratitude…
