begin again

beginning is the hardest part.  it's hard because of inertia.  force is needed to overcome the lack of motion, of inactivity . but i think it's hard because it's also when we have the most optimism and energy- so we're fooled into thinking we should be successful- or it should be easy.  but it's usually not.  beginning a book- getting into it, knowing the characters, the place, caring about them- it takes time.  beginning a conversation- maybe that's why people talk about the weather- universal context- finding common ground.

today was the beginning of the second semester of homeschooling.  it was also a preview of homeschooling all three kids- at very different ages and stages- which may be in the future in uganda.  it was a good idea to let go of all expectations- OK most expectations.  so i had a pretty good day- meaning no one suffered irreconcilable damages to body or spirit- and people learned things- or at least practiced what they already knew.

beginnings of new days are always good for me- in fact it's my best time- because i am a morning person.  i get up with this absurd idea that i can do pretty much anything. i get up with energy and enthusiasm- in great need of coffee, but ready for the world to bring it.  but all that optimism and positivity must fill the tank around 5 am- because if i'm awakened between the hours of 1am and 4am- it is absolutely the opposite.

and that is what happened last night.  i was half asleep- dream/thinking about being in uganda.  it was very dark and quiet outside and very dark and quiet inside of me.  i was imaging being in the little market in mukono- the one i'll be able to walk to, down a long red dirt hill and across a very busy street.  i was imaging the rows of not-so-fresh bakery items, beside the cans of red jelly, variations of box milk, electric pink hotdogs, playing cards with the actors from the titanic, old dusty pens and notebooks.  i was remembering what wasn't there- cheese, brownie mixes- chocolate chips- good bread-vegetables out of season - grown in other places, almond milk.  i was remembering that it wasn't particularly pretty- it wasn't a place to go because you wanted to get out of the house- and the kids can ride in a cart shaped like a race car and maybe they'll have free samples. it's where you go because you need some pineapples or bananas or maybe a deck of cards with leonardo and kate on them.  i imagined bryn who is almost 4 and has never left the country- having a full on meltdown in the 2nd of 4 isles in the little market- and people looking at the spoiled little blond kid- who is being told he can't have the $7.00 box of stale captain crunch- while he screams that he just wants to go home to america. and i was filled with dread and anxiety.  the full on 'what are we thinking?' feeling.  and this sense of deep apprehension followed me for the rest of the night.

this is holding the tension of the opposites again.  this is straddling the gap between faith and fear.  longing to go where it feels right and terrified of the going.  knowing that mike and i are the ones who feel called into this- and aware that we are deciding this for three dependent little people.  it changes your sense of responsibility.  it begs the question of - are you sure? now? there?

thank God for the sunrise- that pink and yellow growing hope poking its head above the scrappy tree- lined horizon-calling me out of fear and back to faith.  showing me the world again here- blemishes and beauty- reminding me that it's not where, it's who.  and that our spirits are so much deeper than our senses. that it will be OK- for them- for me-for us.  reminding me to trust.  and so the day began once again, in eager anticipation.

it ended at brain balance- zoe's last week- and me doing a video testimonial to our experience- in reflection over the past 6 months.  of course, i didn't prepare- i winged it.  and in those 10 minutes i was again reminded of how far she's come- as i heard myself say what she now does, and doesn't do, what she now has insight into, what she now reflects on.  but i also heard myself talk about the beginning- and my doubt- and her slow start- and how things got worse before they got better.

and i remembered how hard beginnings are- and i remembered my 3am mukono market vision- and how hard it probably will be- but that time will pass- the sun will rise- the sky brighten- my hope will be full again.  time, it heals.