It's been hot here in Buffalo. The thermometer has been hovering around 90 degrees for the past few days. I am thankful that our landlord was in to open up a new (beautiful) piano window in our apartment; it provides a lovely cross breeze, and it's quite cute, opening from the top. Anyhow, here I am, off-track already. The point is that this heat has me thinking about lying awake in bed at night in Haiti, listening to the drums in the nearby village, and trying desperately not to think about how hot I was, or how many mosquitoes were flying around my face in the dark. At least I don't have mosquitoes crawling up my nose here in Buffalo. But, as much as I don't remember those hot, sweaty nights with great fondness, I do ache every time I think of that beautiful country, and all the friends I left behind in the villages of Coupon and Roche Blanche. I even dug out one of my favorite photos to share with you. I'm afraid it didn't scan as well as I'd hoped, but if you look closely, you can see a young girl doing her homework outside her home. I took this photo at about 4 p.m., in a village very near my own. I wish that I could share all of the delightful (and some not-so) sights, sounds, and smells of Haiti...everything was so loud...vendors and buyers shouting in the marketplace, the squawks and squeals of animals among the crowds, flashes of bright color--from womens' clothing to the melange of veggies in woven baskets at the market to the bright signs and homes painted horrendous pastel colors...it was constantly an overwhelming sensory experience. I was reading back in my journal from my year spent there, and I often ache for the experience of life there, raw and throbbing. I often feel like my days here are spinning, numbing, sort of a self-indulged dream, where all other objects and persons revolve around my hopes and my needs. There, I couldn't run from Old Navy to coffee dates, buy new mascara, wish I were skinnier, or microwave my dinner. It simply wasn't an option. My days were full of hard, hot work, giving, giving, giving, painfully long conversations, yet another child at my door asking for food/water, homemade music, dancing, making mango juice (so so delicious!), and writing by light of the oil lamp after the sun set. I know I shouldn't idealize it; I remind myself of the loneliness, the frustration of everything breaking, the frustration of being "blanc" (white)...but somehow the fears and frustrations fade with the thought of going back. I can't wait to get back. For all the hot nights, flat tires, mosquitoes, broken cars that take weeks to fix, and dirt covering everything I own, my soul longs to get back. I have to keep reminding myself that each Anatomy and Physiology class is taking me closer and closer to the goal of getting back to that dreadful, gorgeous, throbbing country. James and I love to talk about the possibilities of opening our own mission, getting teams together, raising our children speaking Creole. I know that our whole life won't be there, but I am certainly excited about returning to my village, seeing my dear friends again, forgetting the mascara, rolling up my sleeves, and getting to work.
Well, I'm not sure that 11:00 officially counts as morning, but I'm just getting going (sigh!). It's a cool, breezy morning here in Buffalo, perfect for sleeping in (especially after a crazy shift at work last night, and not getting home until 11:30). Oliver, however, had other plans. He was on my face at 5:00, 6:00, and finally at 8:00, when I finally got up with him, and tried desperately to keep him from sticking his wet, cold nose in my sleepy little face! James and I say we're not ready for babies yet, but this is making me think we may as well throw some in the mix! I am waiting patiently for my ipod to charge, so I can head out on my dreaded run. Today is a 6-miler (eek!), in preparation for the 15 K Buffalo Fleet Feet race that I joined with my dear friend Allyson Beeke. It's on September 3. We're both terrified. I haven't run 15 K (approx 9.2 miles) in a year and a half since the Riverbank Run in Grand Rapids. My body is protesting wildly, but some sort of manic determination in me keeps me lacing up these shoes. Here goes!
