Moments that Make my heart go Pitter Patter

Interesting factoid about typhoid- it does a funny number to your heart; your body temperature spikes, and your pulse plummets. Unusual for fevers, or so I am told. Having experienced a low pulse for the past few days has been exhausting. (I am blaming the exhaustion on the low pulse and absolutely nothing else)

Monday evening we reached home thanks to the careful driving of Mawanda, one of the local truck drivers. He even delivered us right to our front door, thanks to specific instructions from one of the uncles. It was hard walking through the doors back into the house; I think mostly because I was so tired from the journey, but also in part because of the flooding of emotions from the previous few days.

Thankfully our friend Laban arrived moments after we did, having him around always helps. So, Bekah, Matt (her friend from CO who is visiting for a few days), Laban, and I unloaded our gear from the truck and began settling in the house. We had left things in disarray thanks to the mad dash to the hospital and the critters had a field day. I felt like we had to reclaim our territory once again. Anyway, trying to show how “good” I was doing, I began gathering dirty clothes up and unpacking while Bek and Matt and Laban were organizing things downstairs. Ever get a feeling that something is wrong? Well, I get those feelings, especially in relation to spiders. The hairs on the back of my neck were tingling, but I chalked it off to nervousness about being home again after being so sick. Then I saw it. Or rather, then I reacted to it. Reaching out to grab a shirt off my duffle bag I almost grabbed a massive ugly icky spider. Now I come from AZ, land of the unusually large spiders and creepy crawly things, so I am a good judge of huge spiders. The leg span easily would have covered my hand. So I did what any other girl who fears spiders would do. I called for Bekah. Quietly at first, cause the room was spinning, but then with more gusto. Bek comes running up the stairs followed by the boys. I hollered that I wasn’t sick, but needed help; and then realized that I was putting her life in peril too, so told her to stop coming. By then I was crying. Great.

Thank God for boys. Matt took control and helped my helpless self snap out of the panic. He directed me away from the spider, told Bek to take me outside, and then dealt with the evil critter. Laban disposed of the body while Matt did a quick check for more spiders. Getting my head back on straight, I joined Matt, holding the lantern and flashlight while he checked all the rooms/ piles of clothes. Laban told Bek that she had to sleep in my room with me and should not let me go cleaning without her around. (He is too sweet). Still feeling unsettled Matt and I continued the sweep; only killed two other spiders which were small in comparison. (Like how I said “only”?)

Can I even capture the flood of thoughts that washed over me while Bekah was hugging me on the porch? How ridiculous am I? How pathetic can I be? First of all, who moves to a third world country for a year, lives in a village which is reminiscent of the pioneer days, and thinks it is totally normal? Seriously, I caught TYPHOID. Typhoid. Does that even exist in America? And I am a hand washing FREAK. I boil everything. No reason on EARTH that I should have been the one. So, not only do I get ridiculously sick (which I was sick for two weeks without really doing anything, cause… who knows), I then get ridiculously frightened by a spider. I live in a dirt house with wood floors. Spider HEAVEN.

Can you start to hear how discouraged and tired and fed up I was? Standing on the “porch” with Bekah as she was once again being forced to be “the strong one”, I was ready to call it a day and go home. But then, a still small voice calmed my heart.

Life is never easy. Some days are harder than others. Some years are harder than others. I wasn’t promised rainbows, unicorns, and fields of flowers when I came to UG. I was promised strength for each new day, guidance, and the peace of knowing I am where I was called to be.

Many things make my heart go “pitter patter”; some of the moments are caused by fear- a sudden adrenaline rush that sends my heart racing. But the majority of things that make my heart go “pitter patter” are the quiet moments when I see my kids doing the right thing without being told, when I see change in the lives of those I meet daily, when I am reminded that God loves me and has a plan.

Pitter Patter: my favorite boys coming down the hill minutes after the spider attack to “see” me with their own eyes, giving me great big “almost young men” hugs and squeezing my hand, saying “welcome home” and “thank you for getting better”. Being with me when I felt lowest.

Pitter Patter: seeing two of my boys pray together in the kitchen before beginning to learn how to play the keyboard- no adults in sight telling them what to do.

Pitter Patter: darling Ariyo, sweet village girl who doesn’t go to school, rounding up all the other non – schooled kids who graze goats and cows and introducing them to “Aunt Le”- And chasing the ones who shout “mzungu” so she can teach them my name.

Pitter Patter: going to the primary school and peaking in the nursery class where 18 small voices shout out “you are welcome Auntie Le” and 18 faces smile at me before rushing to hug me.

Pitter Patter: one of my kids telling a teacher that I was really his aunt. “Are you sure?” the skeptical adult asked. “More than” he replied. “Don’t you know, teacher, we are all one people, just different skin”