In the End

In the end, what affects your life most deeply are the things too simple to talk about. - Nell Blaine

Came across this quote and thought I would share it with you. I feel like it addresses the dilemma I face when sitting down to write a blog. Each day a million little things happen, things which impact my life and my heart in a multitude of ways. But how do I share the little things, without making them seem like mundane trifles?

I look at my hands slowly changing before my eyes. They are darker now, a tan color that seems not to belong to my body. Random scars crisscross my knuckles where before there were rings and painted nails. Fingernails look dirty always, and although for the first time in my life I have no trouble growing strong nails, I cut them regularly so as not to associate with the “hooligans” who have long nails and to prevent general dirtiness. My finger tips are roughened, but still not comparable to the calloused hands of the children I work with. It seems that no matter how many items of clothing I hand wash, my palms will always be soft and bleed. Tonight a burn on my thumb throbs each time I press the space bar, a reminder to be more awake when lighting the lantern in the morning.

My arms bear the trail marks of various bugs who love to bite. Bruises from riding in the truck, or bumping into the corners as I haul jerry cans of water around the house change from red to blue and purple and then green and yellow before fading away.

My chest will be as that of an older person soon; it seems that no matter how faithful I am in applying sun block, the only place apart from my hands that is slowly and deeply changing is a small patch just below my throat. I am self conscious about it now, although I am sure I am the only one who notices.
My legs are stronger now, the mountain trails and squatting seems to tone better than any exercise regime. I don’t get to slim down though, just tone and bulk. The grandmothers of the village comment as I walk past; I must be getting fat because of the coldness. Sigh.

The voice inside my head no longer matches the voice I hear coming from my mouth. My voice has deepened so as to be better understood and my vocabulary has decreased tremendously. Terms and words that used to come easily are now hard to recall. Only in moments of sheer exhaustion or fear does the voice I know return- higher pitched and much faster than the voice I hear now.

I am startled when visiting mission teams are surprised and question the things I now consider “normal”. I wonder about the adaptability of human beings. We seem so set in our moulds, so sure about what we will and won’t do; yet when the time comes, and the need arises, the mould no longer fits and we adapt to the situation.

In the end, it is the little things each day that encompass my “Uganda experience”.

My mould has been broken, the list of things I will and won’t do is buried somewhere under the lists of things that need to be accomplished. It is only in the rare quiet moment that I realize I am changing. I wonder who I am. I wonder what I am becoming. I wonder how the little things will add up, how they will affect not only my life, but the lives of those I love. Change is not to be feared as much as it once was; I am learning it is inevitable- uncomfortable- but inevitable. In the end, I hope I learn from the millions of little things, I hope I become a better person.