"When are you leaving?" "Do you have a plane ticket yet?" "What are your plans for when you get home?"
If I had 100 kwacha (roughly 25 cents) for every time I've heard (and dreaded answering) these questions in the past few months, I think I would have enough money to buy that ticket I don't yet have.
"Why don't you just write a letter?" Aly keeps asking me. I'm the expert with words around here. I write and edit support letters and updates and newsletters for us and for others. I enjoy it. Words come easily for me. I've had to handle the money a lot more around here, and that's something I'm terrible at. Any of several men around campus can testify to that, when I've shown up at their door begging to exchange a little money because I didn't save enough kwacha to do any number of random things that come up here- doctor bills for staff, school fees for their children, trips to the tailor (not necessary, I know...but...a week at home leaves a girl too much time to plan wardrobes!)
So, when it came time to buy that plane ticket home, Aly made a reasonable suggestion I've made to her quite a few times in the past two years. "Write a letter/email/facebook message home asking people to help out!" And for some reason, this time, I couldn't bring myself to do it.
I kept saying it was because I feel bad because we were so recently asking for money for the December Christmas surprise trip home. "I forgot." "I'll do it later." "Yeah, I'll think about it." I have no end of excuses. (I know, I know...me? excuses? shocker!) Today, though, I sat down and thought about writing that letter. After all, she's right. I could use a little extra help this time. My support is way down from what it used to be, and even with a little help from ABC, I don't have enough money to live life here, pay my taxes, and buy a plane ticket.
And then I realized that there's a little more than a slightly shameful lack of humility preventing me from writing this letter.
What would I say? How would I begin? There's no way to sum up the past 2 years. There's no way to explain that my spring break 2 years ago began the most terrifying and wonderful experience of my life. How do I begin to bring to a close the thrill that 2 years in Africa has been? How do I say goodbye?
Writing that letter would be the first step. Writing that letter would be admitting that the "4 months" we insist we have left really is much less than 4 months. Writing that letter would involve admitting, to myself and to you, that this is ending, and I am totally, completely, 100% clueless about what that means for me.
Well, this is my letter. This is me telling you I'd appreciate any money (or job offers) that you can give, but that I'd equally appreciate any prayers you can give. I can temporarily hide from the IRS (though I realize it's not a great idea), but I can't hide from the reality of the change that's ahead of me. It's coming quickly, and I am quite unsure of how to handle it. Two years ago, two years seemed a long time. Today, two years is disappearing before my eyes.
There's a link at the top left of the page that tells you how you can donate money. Or you can message me, or talk to my parents about that.
As for prayer, well...
I think you know how to pray. :)
So thanks. Thanks for two years.
If I had 100 kwacha (roughly 25 cents) for every time I've heard (and dreaded answering) these questions in the past few months, I think I would have enough money to buy that ticket I don't yet have.
"Why don't you just write a letter?" Aly keeps asking me. I'm the expert with words around here. I write and edit support letters and updates and newsletters for us and for others. I enjoy it. Words come easily for me. I've had to handle the money a lot more around here, and that's something I'm terrible at. Any of several men around campus can testify to that, when I've shown up at their door begging to exchange a little money because I didn't save enough kwacha to do any number of random things that come up here- doctor bills for staff, school fees for their children, trips to the tailor (not necessary, I know...but...a week at home leaves a girl too much time to plan wardrobes!)
So, when it came time to buy that plane ticket home, Aly made a reasonable suggestion I've made to her quite a few times in the past two years. "Write a letter/email/facebook message home asking people to help out!" And for some reason, this time, I couldn't bring myself to do it.
I kept saying it was because I feel bad because we were so recently asking for money for the December Christmas surprise trip home. "I forgot." "I'll do it later." "Yeah, I'll think about it." I have no end of excuses. (I know, I know...me? excuses? shocker!) Today, though, I sat down and thought about writing that letter. After all, she's right. I could use a little extra help this time. My support is way down from what it used to be, and even with a little help from ABC, I don't have enough money to live life here, pay my taxes, and buy a plane ticket.
And then I realized that there's a little more than a slightly shameful lack of humility preventing me from writing this letter.
What would I say? How would I begin? There's no way to sum up the past 2 years. There's no way to explain that my spring break 2 years ago began the most terrifying and wonderful experience of my life. How do I begin to bring to a close the thrill that 2 years in Africa has been? How do I say goodbye?
Writing that letter would be the first step. Writing that letter would be admitting that the "4 months" we insist we have left really is much less than 4 months. Writing that letter would involve admitting, to myself and to you, that this is ending, and I am totally, completely, 100% clueless about what that means for me.
Well, this is my letter. This is me telling you I'd appreciate any money (or job offers) that you can give, but that I'd equally appreciate any prayers you can give. I can temporarily hide from the IRS (though I realize it's not a great idea), but I can't hide from the reality of the change that's ahead of me. It's coming quickly, and I am quite unsure of how to handle it. Two years ago, two years seemed a long time. Today, two years is disappearing before my eyes.
There's a link at the top left of the page that tells you how you can donate money. Or you can message me, or talk to my parents about that.
As for prayer, well...
I think you know how to pray. :)
So thanks. Thanks for two years.
