It is strange to think that exactly one month ago we were just leaving Tanzania. Strange to think that we were sweating in 100+ degree weather (instead of the chilling 11̊ it is right now)…that we were watching Mt. Meru and Kili in the distance during bumpy jeep rides….playing with Armani , Francis, Sofia, and the others at the STEMM Orphanage…waving out the car windows as we passed mud huts on dusty—and later flooded—country roads…. Those moments seem a world away.
But that’s what I’m afraid of most. That soon those memories will be hidden amongst the busy schedules, the classes, the worries of this life
…that those moments will get lost
…that without even realizing it
…we’ll simply…
forget.
The first week back was a shock. Everywhere I looked I would compare American life to what I’d seen in Tanzania. And what I saw disgusted me. The way that we waste food. The amount of stuff we have. Our constant complaints in a world of plenty. And every day I thought of the kids we met…of Little Glory…Lucy….Mattias….Priska. I thought of our drivers (Ray, Freddie, Noel, The King of Tsetse flies and the others) and all that they taught us along the way. I thought of the mud shacks that were homes. Of the children waving and celebrating on the sides of the street. Of the man who blew kisses at us from the street corner as we drove by. Of the beauty of morning worship and literally dancing with praise while at the orphanage. Of the value of education in a world where there is so little of it.
…I relived those memories time and again that first week.
And then slowly,
little
by
little
those moments began to fade away. “Real” life started to hit again, and I began to forget about the little things that had bothered me about my own culture a week or two before. The memories of that trip seemed like photographs I had dug up from years ago, and Tanzania never felt so far away.
But every once in a while I still have those moments when something hits me like a freight train.
And those moments are oh, so good.
For example, watching the Superbowl this past weekend made me sick, as I thought about how many millions of dollars are spent on advertising and halftime shows each year when all of that money could be put to such better use in places like Tanzania.
And last weekend as I was babysitting, I found myself standing in the middle of a play room where I could spot ten different Barbie dolls strewn across the floor.… and all I could think was what one little Tanzanian girl would give for just one of those, and here this little American girl has more toys than she could ever play with.
It is so very important that these moments continue to hit me! Because I need to be reminded! As life gets busy and I am drug back into the responsibilities of being a student, a daughter, a sister, a friend, these are the moments that I need to be reminded of the most.
Because that was the whole point of this trip. Not that we would just have fun. Or even that we could find ways to help the people of Tanzania. But it was so that this trip might be able to change us and shape us in ways that are unimaginable. But we can only do that if we continue to remember what we saw and the memories that we shared with those we met there. Those memories are some of the most valuable gifts I have ever received and I must never, ever lose them. I don’t want to forget! I don’t want to lose the lessons I have learned! I want to keep growing and learning from those memories so that I can see where God is leading me.
So please…2 months from now…10 months…3 years… 10 years….25 years down the road. Please ask me about my trip to Tanzania. Please ask me to tell you the stories of all the dear people that I met there. And remind me above all else to pray. To pray for all I have seen….for what God might be calling me to do…and for the lives of those who I meet in Tanzania, that the Lord may continue to work in their hearts and through them.
Because we must keep sharing our experiences….lest we forget.
Our God is so good!
2/11/16
Proverbs 19:21 