Letter One

It has been a quick but painful journey to this day. One month ago I was diagnosed with a degenerative disease that caused my world to crash. It's been a battle between the good days and the bad days, and to be honest, I'm not sure which side is winning right now. I'd like to think that the good days are, tho.

Do I understand all of this? No. Do I know how this is fitting into God's will for my life? No. Have I asked God what He is doing in all of this? Oh yes; right after I told Him I was angry at Him. Yes, I've been angry at God. but in the midst of it all, I still trust God. 
He knows how it is going to end, and He knows exactly how much I can handle this. He knew that I would need an incredible support system, so He gave me three amazing sisters. One of whom has already conquered this mountain. He knew that my parents wouldn't be able to be with me during all of this, so He gave me Papa and Mama H. He knew I would need wise medical staff to help diagnose and treat this disease, so He gave me the incredible Dr. DV & CO.

Each day brings a new set of situations that have to be dealt with and processed. It has become the Mt. Everest of my life. Each day I'm learning that this mountain must be climbed one step at a time, and I'm determined to conquer it. One day at a time.

OH! Hello again...

I'm sorry, I didn't notice you sitting there. I was too busy gathering the dust bunnies and removing the cobwebs from this page. It's been quite awhile since the last time I've posted on here.


I was re-reading some of my older posts, and a flood of memories washed over me. Memories of life changing moments,  memories I'm trying to shoo out the door of my mind, and memories that I long to hold onto forever, but with each passing day, slip from my grasp.

United States, to Canada, fast forward 10 years, and there we were traveling back in the states, went to Tanzania, which is not only a different country, it's on a different continent. Moved yet again to the US of A..... And now The Nomadic Parents have been transferred to....


POLAND!!


Yes, you read correctly. Po-land. You know, Land of Poles??? No? Ok, how about pollocks? Yeah? Yes!! So the path of my ever so interesting journey takes another mysterious twist. Did I mention we are Nomads?  So here we go again; packing up our lives' favorite memories, and starting a new journey. I can't wait to turn future memorable moments into incredible memories!

My Sacrifice of Praise

I was recently asked how it felt to be back in the States, knowing that I wouldn't be going back to Tanzania with my parents. Ever since then, I have asked myself over and over, What is it like to be back? What are all these emotions that I find myself facing from one moment to the next? And where did they come from?! So... to be completely honest, I don't know how I feel.

What I DO know is that the hole in my heart has slightly decreased in size, and I know that I still fight moments of feeling like a fish out of water. (Although I don't know what a fish feels when it gets out of water, I'm sure it would feel like I have felt in the past few months.) For those of you who have never experienced this, let me explain: It's like walking in the fog, and gasping for air, yet knowing you are breathing just fine.

Seriously, how does one stand in a church with keyboards, cushioned pews, choirs and all the 'normal' things that can be found in an American church and worship, when all I can hear in is the sound of a African drum? I think that has been one of the hardest things I've faced so far. To stand in such a 'normal' place, yet every part of my being is longing to be in a mud hut, to listen to the sound of bucket being beaten, to balance on a rickety bench, and just to be back in MY 'normal'.
Instead, I find that I'm going through the motions of 'church'. I stand with the congregation, I raise my hands, fumble my way through the latest 7-11 worship chorus and have a migraine headache due to the stench of perfume, that some dear soul decided to bathe in that morning. Going through the motions?! Yes - I admit there are times when going through the motions is all I can do, because going through the motions is alot easier to deal with than falling apart. Sometimes going through the motions is all I have to give. Sometimes I fail to find the words to pray, so I just close my eyes, and let my heart do the praying. Sometimes it is just easier to sit in the closet (Thank you Lord for a walk in closet) and let everything just fade away, rather than offer my sacrifice of praise.
During a recent church service, somebody told me, 'You are so African', and I wanted to fall apart and bawl my eyes out. Of course I'm African; Africa still makes my heart beat, it still brings a smile to my face, and still causes my eyes to flood; Africa is still the home of my heart. So I pulled out my 'This-Is-My-Happy-Face-Mask', dusted it off, tied it on with a pretty little bow and politely nodded, all the while falling apart on the inside. I quickly closed my eyes and continued fumbling my way through yet another song that I didn't know, and made the decision to offer my sacrifice of praise. My sacrifice of 'Lord I showed up today, so YOU need to do the same'. Yes, it hurt to smile, to stand and to sing, to offer this new normal as my sacrifice of praise.
Through the tears, and through the hurt, and as I try to figure out this new 'normal'...I praise.