Open Sails

Every day here has been so incredibly full. I admit I don't know quite what to do with myself with the vast differences in simply how to do life. At home, I have limitless opportunities and things to do and see and attend. I have always worked and always had a 9-5, it is the only life I know. I said I no longer wanted my 9-5 and instead I got a 7:00am-11pm. Here, in a place where I have no car and very limited opportunities, I have no idea where the days go.  I have done a pitiful job of journaling. A peaceful, restful, quiet morning of coffee and breakfast doesn't exist. I seem to always have a morning debrief from the day before, one on one meetings with mission school students or other missionaries. The mornings start full force with little time to ease your way into the day. The days are hot and that can wear you out. You really do have to pace yourself and eat right and drink water and take all  precautions in order to physically do the day. I rarely get in to town. I rarely sit down to journal. I rarely sit down. Or so it feels. 


I don't get to the sea near often enough. On the day I went swimming with the dolphins I noticed a lovely yacht. It was impossible not to notice her. A yacht in the midst of little wooden hand carved boats. She stood out. I said out loud to Annelie, "I want that boat". I said it loud and emphatically. She laughed and told me how her father will say, "I want cake" (or something frivolous or extravagant) and her mother will correct him like a child, saying, "Do you want it or do you need it?". And he will answer, not matter what it is, " I NEED cake". "I NEED coffee". "I NEED a yacht". We all do this. We laughed. We walked to the leaky wooden dhow and threw in our gear. 


One day this week, in the midst of a very full day, a friend had asked me to help her take a group of our boys swimming. We were supposed to go at 10. That changed to 12 and then to 1, but I had class at 2. I assisted in getting the boys to the sea. It involved one boy crying and my having to carry him on my hip the whole way, his tiny feet hitting my knee with each step, tears and snot on my shoulder. Two boys fought. One got lost (temporarily). We attempted to take a picture. A stranger noticed us. White girls with a dozen black boys. He asked if we were missionaries. He had a boy who was with him go to his boat to get his card for us so that we could contact him. He had a need. He wanted to do some "charitable work" and wanted to take 10 of us out on his boat if we wanted to go. "The one out there". "There?". "Yes, there". "THAT one"?...Oh, it's the boat that I NEED. The yacht. 

I went out on it today. It was lovely. I went with 9 other friends and we had an absolute blast. I think what I may have enjoyed more than being on the boat, was getting to see how incredibly blessed the other 9 were to be aboard. It was fun to be able to bless them. It was fun to hear the guys giggle like girls as they jumped and dove and snorkeled and played. We had packed a picnic of potato salad, couscous, chicken and rolls. We stopped and got mangos at the little roadside stand on the way. We swam until we were ravenous and then feasted. 


Now I am at this place where I feel like I simply have to speak out what I WANT. Whether it be coffee or cake, curriculum or teachers or instructors, and insight and revelation into a culture so different from my own, He knows. He knows that sometimes this all looks like way too much. He knows that the logistics and meetings and planning and preparation and research and hours of classes and discipleship and training and instruction can be exhausting. Yet, it doesn't have to be. He just asks us to co-labor and He never said it had to be 50-50. As a matter of fact, it seems a bit more like 90-10 and my only job is to ask.