In Congo last year

Sometimes I wish I was one of those bloggers that people wanted to read everything I wrote because I wrote it so well and so beautifully that you couldn’t help but love it.

The ones that write long-winded, multiple-paragraphed posts nary a photo or two. But people flock to them cause they touch a part of their readers hearts (usually the bajillions of them) and connect on that emotional level that can’t really be explained. (Two of my favorites.)

There are many times I just want to write what I’m feeling but don’t want to push people away. I don’t want people to find me whiny or boring or lacking in visuals (photos! collages! infographics! bulleted lists!)

I know for a fact that my posts on the Congo (if you are a new reader, see here), Back on my Feet & humanitarian issues are the least read, least clicked, least everything’d I write on this blog. I get so passionate about certain things and then get so little response that it’s like this pent up confusion in the end. What? How can you NOT see how important/cool/necessary this thing is?

And then there are things I’m passionate about that have political/religious ramifications that I don’t even allow myself to dive into here because the last thing I want is to drive people away. This is a happy space, a welcome space and I want everyone to feel they belong here — not ostracized by some controversial issue. Though sometimes I’m bursting to get my thoughts into open (internet) “air.”

48 Hours

Today, my thoughts are this…I am still on the listserv for the team from church that’s heading back to the Democratic Republic of Congo this year. They’re going in like 48 hours. When I got the email, with all their final details and meeting points, etc. my stomach felt nauseous.

I’m not going. And I’m sad. Oh those kids just stole my heart last year. That place changed the way I think about things, it added so much to my life. And I’ve felt bad that I’ve not devoted more time and thought to it since I went. And I feel guilty (?) that I’m not going back with the team. Guilty is not the right word — so I don’t know what is.

I can’t do everything — get married, have a weddingmoon, travel to a ton of states, run marathons, visit my family, do my job, run my blog, be good wife, keep up volunteer work, support my friends and spend two weeks in Africa (nevermind paying for it). There’s not enough time or money in life to do it ALL. I know that.

And yet, this sour feeling abounds. I’m not going, I’m not going, I’m not going. Will Esperence wonder why I’m not there? Will she even remember me? Will Sophia and Jacqlyn and Rosa be so much bigger? Will Noe be walking by himself? Will they have new dances to show us, new clapping games to teach us? Will more of them want to be President of the Congo?

I had planned on being involved with helping the team prepare this year but I wasn’t. Every time I got one of the emails, it made my heart hurt that I wasn’t going. It was too hard to participate knowing I couldn’t be there.

So anyway, that’s how I’m feeling now. Though I wish them the best, I pray for their journey, I pray for those kids, I will relish their photos and stories when they return.

I’m not pasting this post all over social media or anything. If you find it, it will be because you just happened to come on over. And if you did, thanks for staying to hear me thoughts.

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