I’ve had a real perspective change the last few weeks here. It has hit me that I am not going to be in South Sudan forever, and this has made me realize how much I love it here. Let me just talk about that. I love the African way of life. I was made for it – the slow-pace of life, the priority placed on relationship over completing tasks and maintaining schedules. I’ve had work days where I’ll sit and talk with a co-worker for hours about their life, their experiences, and put aside my work until the next day, because here, it’s more important to build and maintain a relationship than complete the job. I love the kids. They are crazy, loud, unruly, disobedient, sweet, hilarious, hard-working, lazy, helpful, all at the same time. I’ll be pulling my hair out one moment because I’ve told them for the 10th time to stop littering on the compound, and the next moment, reveling in the sweetness of having a few over at my house coloring on the floor or dancing to Shakira. I love the craziness of it all. I love that I’m excited every day to get up and go to work, that I don’t dread it. How many people get that? I love the freshness of each day. Sometimes new wonderful things happen, sometimes new hard situations arise, but there’s no mundane-ness to life here. Every day takes on a life of its own. I have more funny stories and crazy experiences than I can count. Sudan is intense – full of life and laughter, pain and trauma, but it is anything but boring.
I’ve been thinking about how dwelling on past hard times or letting the many various daily challenges get to you really takes away from your enjoyment of a period in your life. Challenges will come with any season, and focusing on those things steals the joy of that season. So in realizing I won’t be here forever, I’ve been able to let difficulties go, when they occur, and instead, drink in the joy of being here now. I’ve started to focus on what I have instead of what I lack, on the dreams that have been fulfilled rather than the desires that have (yet) not been. I know that one day I won’t be here, and I know how deeply I will miss it once I’m gone.
If I had never come to Sudan, I may be married by now. I may have never experienced some of the devastating loneliness and isolation that were my habitual companions during that first year. I may not have lost 20 pounds the first 6 months because I had no stove and had to eat basic compound food. I would not encountered heart-breaking corruption and harassment because of my skin color. And I definitely would not have had malaria 7 times. But…I also would never have matured in my worldview – of poverty, of cultures, of the affects of Western aid on the African continent and how to help in a manner that is healthy and sustainable. I would not have had the romanticism of missions knocked out of me. I would not have encountered God in the depths of disillusionment and brokenness and had Him reform my understanding of who He was and who I was to Him – that He was Father and I was Daughter, above all else. I probably would still be sinking in the selfish ambition that I tried for so long to defeat but was only fully overcome through that season of isolation, a crucible God used to crush it and purify me into more of His likeness. I would not have witnessed how true the Gospel is – that He makes all things new. I would not have heard laughter from some of the poorest people on earth – the most genuine sound from people who truly possess joy. Materially-speaking, they have nothing, but I have learned that in matters of the soul – the richness of community, friendship, and ability to enjoy life – what they have is unquantifiable, and we Westerners need a lot more of it.
All that to say, I have felt overwhelmingly thankful and extremely lucky lately. My life is great
