Friday, July 21, 2017
“At some point, you gotta let go, and sit still, and allow contentment to come to you.” ― Elizabeth Gilbert
After three days of malaria and the suffering that goes with it, I was really down, even though I was beginning to feel better physically. Here, we don’t reach for pills or bottles when we need hope and energy because God supplies whatever healing we need. I just went outside late in the afternoon and sat in the shade on our back porch for a while. I watched a small, runaway pig get chased away by our neighbors with Sissie barking her support. I saw children coming home from school who wanted to use the little English they knew, so, even though it was afternoon, I heard “Good morning, Sir.” over and over again, followed by giggles. The kids always smiled and laughed back when I spoke to them in English and Kiswahili. I watched a mother with her head down and a baby on her back carrying a pail of water on her head. Right after she went by, a whole herd of goats came past going the other way—hurried along by Sissie’s barking. Our neighbor’s daughter came out and lowered her bucket into their well several times, filling a large container that she then toted into her house. I listened to the white-browed robin chat (Google its song) sing its happy, happy song very loudly. I watched as Rachel gathered in her children’s clothes that had been drying on the fence (she does her wash along with ours). And while I sat and felt the African breeze on my face, that same breeze brought the sounds of a heavenly choir practice from the nearby Baptist church. Just an hour sitting on my back porch with Sissie as my companion was better than Prozac, or a glass of wine, or a cold beer. My spirits were lifted and it was enough. To quote Scarlett O’Hara, “Tomorrow is another day.” It was enough. It was a gift from God. A gift I could see, hear, and feel. It was enough, and I was thankful.