Coming home is the worst part. I thought by now I'd be used to it, but I find myself still needing a few days to adjust. I'm pretty sure all I've done this weekend is eat, marvel at having clean feet, and stare into space. Part of that is the usual overwhelming trip to the grocery store that has too many choices on too many aisles, crossing the goat-less street without the fear of getting run over, and sleeping all night long without waking up at 4:00am for the morning prayer call by the Muslim mosque across the street. It's the little things. And the little moments when life "back home" is just too much. I have to ease back into things to preserve sanity.
But my heart has to adjust as well. It is full and desiring to live richly (not in a monetary sense) and seeking a deeper and stronger meaning that doesn't always line up with the life I find here. Somehow, my heart grows bigger with each trip to Ghana; and with each journey, I return to wrestle with the ways that life here needs to align more consistently.
My heart is bigger having spent time here:
Lake Volta never fails to give me chills. It is the life-source for so many people in Ghana; they wash their clothes and cars, bathe in, drink from, and cook with water from the lake. Having access to water – regardless of the filthiness of it – is everything. And yet, there is so much hurt and pain associated with it as well. Broken families, stolen childhoods, lost friends and loved ones in the water, never-ending work just to survive. I don't think it's an accident that it takes 1-2 hours by boat to get to the villages we are working in. We spend a significant amount of time out on the lake. It allows for the best contemplation and the best conversations about how we are trying to bring new life to an area that is so desperate for it.
My heart is bigger having spent time here:
Challenging Heights is one-of-a-kind. They are faithful in their pursuit of rehabilitating and empowering children and their families. I thought quite a bit this week about the fact that the staff waves goodbye to children just as soon as they say hello. It's a constant revolving door as groups of children come in and out. It is selfless work. The staff could not be more welcoming or wonderful, and they inspire me to be meaningful with my relationships and to spend my life in ways that matter – even more so when there's no return on the investment.
My heart is bigger having spent time with these guys:
Pure joy is seeing a child in slavery, rescued, reintegrated, and in school. It is recognition by them and being greeted by a hug. It is the pride in their eyes when we ask about their school uniforms. It is seeing shoes on their feet and hearing they ate a good breakfast that morning. It is seeing them pick up a pencil and write their name with pride – instead of picking a fish out of a net. It is knowing they will walk down to the lake to fill a bucket of water for their family – and not get in a fishing boat to paddle. This is joy.
More photos and stories to come, but suffice to say, it was a great trip!
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