Nema

This is Nema. I had a dream about her last night. We were on a road and she was jumping high, high on a pogo stick and I was so impressed with her ability to stay on and told her she needed to be in the Olympics. I woke up to disappointment that there is no pogo stick competition in the Olympics and that Nema wasn't walking along the road with me. I am trying hard to fit back into my culture and the life I once knew. I went to Atlanta yesterday and gawked at all the people dressed so smartly. They entertained me during our wait for a table at West Egg Cafe for Carla's birthday brunch. I try to fit myself into the world I once knew of meeting friends there for omelets and coffee and those blessed telecommute days I spent there (and the shops nearby). I remember taking Sephalina to a restaurant for the first time. Ali and I took her to the nicest place in all of Pemba. She was so tiny and frail and barely spoke Portuguese, coming to us only days before from a little village nearby. Parents deceased. She went into the bathroom and washed from head to toe as is Makua custom before eating. We laughed at the wet child at the table all wide eyed as she gobbled up her chicken dinner. 

Carla and I left after filling our bellies and walked beautiful shops where designers and dreamers got inspired and fulfilled dreams and put them in the window for us to buy. I love the beauty of their expression. We tasted Jeni's creations. She is a James Beard award winner who quit one dream of studying art to start another dream of opening the best ice cream place in town. And now you can go and taste it. 

I fooled everyone in J. Crew as I stood at the counter and bought a new sweater and swiped my credit card like I do that every day, yet wondering why in the world I needed a sweater because my heart is deep in sultry Africa. 

I wake up feeling Nema so close I can almost feel her rapid little heart beat. But I lace up my shoes and put the top down and go play tennis with people I can keep at courts' length. They love and laugh and encourage and chastise all in 3 hours time and in those 3 hours Nema doesn't show up to watch. 

I was startled to find this page I captured from The Alchemist. I took it almost a year ago as I read it. I do fear. I fear suffering and I fear making a mistake and I fear fear. I fear falling back into complacent life and forgetting all that I learned. I fear forgetting the poor and losing my passion. I fear running out of that silly stuff called currency. I fear making the wrong choice. I fear the pain of being away from those I love. Yet, I am choosing to walk in His peace and trust that in all parts of the journey, He holds me. I can't misstep because either way He has me. As I search Him I find Him and isn't that the point? He cares about my career and life goals but above all that He cares about ME. And it's not about how I serve Him, it's about our relationship. He doesn't call me servant, He calls me friend (John 15:15).

For now, the tentative plan is to go and scope out both invitations to South Africa and to Cameroon to help with vocational training schools there.  They both sound glorious and I think visits there, though costly, will help me in my decision. It is a necessary next step. Meanwhile I am daily applying for jobs. Mostly with non-profits, just seeing if there is something out there that is meant for me that I may be missing. Something that may lead me to my path of becoming the next Condoleezza Rice, leaving no stone unturned. 

Thank you all for giving and continuing to keep me fed and provided for. I am undone by your sweet generosity. Thank you for listening as I mumble about what I am doing with my life and thank you for understanding. And as always, I covet your prayers. 

Love. 
Grace