Awakening to a new dawn.

It's Tuesday again, and Doris is here watching Cute Child. I took a quick 20 minute power nap, and now am spending some time catching up.

It was a rough week last week. For the first time in his entire existence, Hot Husband was homesick. Add into that the delay of our shipment, and even more probable predicament of having to pay the duty and tax on it for not making the 90 day window. Which means we could have gotten it right away to begin with . There are frustrations that come with living in Africa, that one never runs in to living other places.

I am finding that occasionally there is a weird competition of people here. Missionaries versus Non Profits, Private Sector versus whatever. For instance there is another American woman who has started to hang out with the group of women I have been with. She is a missionary. I really liked her until the past couple weeks when she started just being very odd. Almost condescending. At moments, rude. Pointedly towards me, not the others. I'm not certain if it's this chasm between her being here for strictly missions purposes, and the weirdness that can come? Or because we are the only American's and she feels a comparison between us from the others and doesn't want that to be the case? I don't know what it is, but on Monday at the British High Commission play group, I had to just walked away from a conversation, remove myself completely before I either burst into tears, or said something to the point and rude right back. However, as a result I met this woman and her daughter who were playing alone, apparently not 'cool' enough for the rest of the group to engage in conversation... And I really enjoyed her. She's a photojournalist, and her husband covers Africa for the Times- a journalist. HELLO! Cool!!! Really down to earth, kind of shy, but totally real. Outside of the few women I hang out with, a lot of the others can, let's be honest, just bore me to tears. There is a woman there who has this thick upper crust English accent, and literally everything that she says sounds condescending. I can't figure if it's mostly her accent, or if she really is that snobby! Lol. At the end of the day, I can't complain. I have friends, and am mostly accepted. And for that I am grateful. It's just finding my 'niche' so to speak, that I am looking for and processing right now.

Lest you all think that Hot Husband is insane in his hours (though I don't know how much I can stop you from believing that), I must say, he does come home between 6-7pm , 90% of the time, and only half of the weeknights works after 8 when Cute Child goes to sleep. Weekends he very rarely has to do any work. It's much better then grad school. I think it's the stress, and the unpredictability of the job that makes it the most frustrating for me. Enough of that!

It's school holidays here, apparently everyone gets off the whole month of December, not sure when their other holidays are, but I think is like the biggest break of the year. The neighbors across the way are Mexican, and I know it sounds funny, but we were so excited to meet them, they feel familiar to us, more then many others we meet. The kids are super sweet and love Cute Child.

We are having to decide in the next 3 days, when we will fly home from the States, and consequently, when we will be flying back to the States the next time. A round trip ticket. I'm torn. I want to return sooner, rather then later. But it's extremely expensive, and with my brother in law just getting into Michigan Law (YOU GO, BRO!) my sister will be moving end of May. Therefore I want a trip back to include a holiday time when she will be there for certain. *sigh. We also want to save money for a trip to Chile to visit friends, Fefa, Tomas and their little Ana. Particularly before we have our next kid.

Not that we are pregnant, because we're not. Though the more I have Doris around the more I think that this is a great place to be pregnant and have babies. Maybe not the labor delivery part, but definitely the hired help part. :)

That book I mentioned last time, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, has a chapter in it that is full of the most amazing story I've read in what feels like forever. I don't know if you can read a book just to read about one man, and just to read one chapter, but you could with this book. And end up really inspired. Bob is the man, and his life just seems too idyllic for words. How is it that some people's stories seem so easy? It's like children playing make believe, and everything coming true- the ideas and dreams are that simple, and at the same that far out and impossible. Is that what it takes?

Here's a few more clips from the book:
" As I've said before, the main way we learn story is not through movies or books; it's through each other. You become like the people you interact with. Aand if your friends are living boring stories, you probably will too. We teach our children good or bad stories, what is worth living for and what is worth dying for, what is worth pursuing, and the dignity with which a character engages his own narrative."

"Robert McKee put down his coffee cup and leaned into the podium. He put his hand on his forehead and wiped back his graya hair. He said, "You have to go there. You have to take your character to the place where he just can't take it anymore." He looked at us with a tenderness we hadn't seen in him before. "you've been there, haven't you? You've been put out on the ledge. The marriage is over now; the dream is over now; nothing good can come from this." He got louder. "Writing a story isn't about making your peaceful fantasies come true. The whole point of the story is the character arc. You didn't think joy could change a person, did you? Joy is what you feel when the conflict is over. But it's conflict that changes a person." His voice was like thunder now. "You put your characters through hell. You put them through hell. That's the only way we change."

I know this sounds kind of morose and slightly depressing, but honestly. I've had my share of hellish years. Years that I'm still waiting for perspective on. Years of physical pain. I'm not Job, but I have felt fire burn things I loved in my life. I have smelt my own flesh burn. And just when I thought I had no more flesh to burn, I became a bonfire. I know what it means to be in a season of "hiddenness". It's almost laughable the ways I have been passed over. For someone who loves center stage, who feels a tangible peace and natural ease holding a microphone- I have not taken to being hidden easily.

All this to say, I thought I was moving to Kenya to see more of my fullfillment of the dreams and longings, visions of helping the orphan and the widow. However it seems that what is happening is something that started in me long before those visions. The stirring in me to sing again, to write, to paint has come up and called to me. I don't feel incredibly inspired, but I long to express. I feel eager to meet others, to learn about what they do, why they do it, how they are doing. I am amazingly content right now to sit back and let others hold microphones while I take notes, sing along, or listen quietly.

Maybe some of the burning worked. Maybe this is exactly where He wanted me to go. Maybe my character, my story is on the right track. Maybe my story will be better then I imagine.