What a difference a year can make.
The months and days of the past year have passed in a flurry of activity, filled with important decisions and a myriad of changes, falling today on April 13, 2010. As I looked at the calendar this morning - ironically while drafting an email regarding The Carpenter’s Kids - I realized that today marked the one year anniversary of my homecoming from Tanzania. Though I recognized several weeks ago that the date was looming, the sudden reflection of those 365 days that passed so quickly and yet seemed years away left me awash with emotion. I felt deep nostalgia for the experience that was growing ever distant, pride for all I have accomplished in this year, and both joy and sadness for the triumphs and hardships I have encountered along the way. I was also bombarded with all the emotion that filled me on that day one year ago; the sound of my heartbeat in my ears and the nervous flutter in my stomach as the hours remaining until my long-awaited reunion gradually ticked by.
Several times today I looked at the clock, subconsciously noting my destination at that time one year ago as I flew from Amsterdam to Atlanta, finally touching ground on American soil around 1pm in the afternoon. I had imagined, awaited, and counted down to that day for much of my time in Tanzania, always longing for and missing the people I left behind, eager to once again be reunited and resume the intertwining of our lives. I had never been the type of person to get homesick, always relishing in the opportunity to get out and experience new things, even as a child scoffing at those whose cries for home had them being picked up from overnight slumber parties at an early hour. Though I had imagined eight months would be significantly more difficult than summer camp and the independent college life, I was in no way prepared for the ache I felt to return home.
Reflection of those feelings fills me with a combination of regret and sadness, wishing that I had paid less attention to the countdown of days, instead unabashedly delving into Dodoma life. Though I did greatly enjoy my time in Tanzania and I wouldn’t trade it for the world, I now realize I was constantly distracted by the idea of home. I wonder now how my experience would have been different had I really let go, allowing my roots to be firmly planted in the rich, red, earth of eastern Africa.
Though those eight months were challenging, I can look back now, one year later, and truly appreciate all I was able to see, do, and learn. Retrospection is an interesting concept, often allowing you to gloss over the imperfections, remembering only the facets seemingly without flaw. I often have days like these, spent remembering and missing the shy smiles of our Carpenter’s Kids, the broken Kiswahili and English chatter in the office, and the wonderful relationships I formed and people I met along the way. Times like today, however, take me back to the raw emotion of those days, the frustrations Liz and I encountered with handling the office politics of two very different cultures, the constant and seemingly inescapable heat, the unreliable internet connection, and always the nagging longing for home. Though it might be nice to ward off these thoughts, remembering only all that was good and joyous, I am grateful for the ability to look back on my experience from both perspectives. I believe that in doing so I have been able to grow and learn, noting things I would do differently if given the chance.
Recently Bishop Mhogolo and Brian Atkins visited Grace Church, Gainesville, one of many stops along their travels to promote the work of The Carpenter’s Kids. It was almost surreal to encounter them here, as if a bit of Dodoma had been dropped right on my doorstep. While Bishop Mhogolo spoke during the education hour, a slideshow of my photos was projected behind him, depicting Tanzania’s gorgeous landscapes, the exotic animals I had encountered on various trips to Mikumi, and the striking faces of sweet Carpenter’s Kids and loving guardians. Though I have given several presentations of my own at parishes across the diocese since returning home, delving through my 10,000 photos in the
attempt to find images to match my words, it was not until that day that I sat undistracted, letting the memories of Tanzania come rushing in. I was taken aback by the feelings of sudden nostalgia and an intense longing to return. It is hard to believe that one year has gone by, and I almost feel as if my grasp on the experience is slipping away with the days on the calendar. I long to go back there, to soak up the culture and to uncover the part of my heart that will always be buried in that place. I am so grateful and appreciative of the time I spent there, the people who brought joy and happiness into each day, and the lessons learned along the way. I will never forget them.
On May 1, merely weeks after returning home, my phone rang early in the morning, the caller ID displaying a strange number I did not recognize. My first instinct told me it was bad news, and yet I silenced the call, convincing myself it was a wrong number. Soon after a voicemail appeared, and upon replaying the message I heard Liz’s familiar voice, sharing the tragic news that one of our fellow missionaries had died. Saskia, a 28-year-old speech and language therapist from Holla
nd, had been in Tanzania for nearly three years. She worked at a deaf school outside of Dodoma and was only weeks away from returning home. While riding her bike home one evening she was hit by a taxi, sustaining serious head injuries. She was rushed to the hospital, where Callum and Noel quickly met her. She died soon after, as others who had heard the news rushed to the hospital. I was instantly shocked, trying to grasp that this amazing, vivacious, girl I had bid goodbye at my farewell party only weeks before, was gone. Saskia was truly wonderful, always so optimistic and constantly with a smile on her face. I was also angry at the driver of the car who hit her, having witnessed the reckless driving habits on Dodoma’s streets. It was hard to imagine something of this magnitude occurring within Dodoma, and I truly felt for all those who were there during such a tragic time. I think of Saskia often, and it saddens me to think of all the life she wasn’t done living, and all the people who will miss out on knowing her. We were all so fortunate to be touched by her presence, and I have no doubt that she is missed every day.
Upon returning home last April I began restoring relationships, visiting friends, and catching up on all that had gone on in my absence. In many ways it felt like I had never been away, and I was thankful for that. My friends and family were for the most part unchanged, no drastic events had occurred since my departure, and I was almost able to slip right back into the rhythm of daily life. After Skype phone calls and hours upon hours of gmail chatting while I was away, I had mended a broken relationship, returning to put away my doubts and fall unheeded into deep, true love. The possibility of this new beginning and curiosity for what could lie ahead constituted much of the eagerness I harbored for returning home, and thus I couldn’t have been happier to have my wishes so seamlessly fulfilled.
I had been told by visitors to Tanzania that upon returning home I would experience a case of culture shock, and I had attempted to prepare myself. I was immediately struck by the sheer amount of resources and the aura of wealth that could be sensed at every corner, noting all that we take for granted and all that is wasted without a second thought. I spent some time working back at my old boutique, where the cost of one sundress was equivalent to the average yearly income in Tanzania. A year later I still find myself checking price tags and being repulsed by their numbers, when at one time I would have ignored them, thinking more of how I just couldn’t live without another pair of $150 jeans. “Need” versus “want” has taken on new significance in my life, and I try to always be grateful for even the smallest of blessings.
After much job searching, many “great resume, but no positions available” email responses, and much thought, I decided to return to school in August 2009 with a week to spare before the semester began. Though the medical field had always interested me, I deviated from the path during my freshman year at UGA, instead cultivating my creative side with a major in interior design. The economic situation combined with my brief exposure to the healthcare system of Tanzania led me to my decision to pursue a career in nursing. Eight months later I have nearly completed all of my prerequisite courses and have been accepted to the Medical College of Georgia’s Master of Science in Nursing program. I will spend sixteen months in Augusta, Georgia, and I am excited for a new chapter to begin. I can’t help but feel as if the past two semesters have been merely an intermission, a period of mundane sandwiched between the main events. I know that great things lie ahead, and I am curious to see what’s in store.
The past year has seen many changes, some good and some bad. I have made some momentous life choices, setting a path for the future and running towards it full force. I have found love and lost it, spending the last several months healing the wounds and searching for optimism. The Carpenter’s Kids has grown significantly, welcoming even more children into the loving arms of the Dodoma family. I have recognized the importance of family, of friends, and of finding a passion for something you love. I have realized that I miss Tanzania, and after counting down to my departure I now anticipate a return. I have learned that I, too, have grown and changed, and that living in the moment is often more important than constantly looking forward for what is to come.
Yes, what a difference a year can make.
The months and days of the past year have passed in a flurry of activity, filled with important decisions and a myriad of changes, falling today on April 13, 2010. As I looked at the calendar this morning - ironically while drafting an email regarding The Carpenter’s Kids - I realized that today marked the one year anniversary of my homecoming from Tanzania. Though I recognized several weeks ago that the date was looming, the sudden reflection of those 365 days that passed so quickly and yet seemed years away left me awash with emotion. I felt deep nostalgia for the experience that was growing ever distant, pride for all I have accomplished in this year, and both joy and sadness for the triumphs and hardships I have encountered along the way. I was also bombarded with all the emotion that filled me on that day one year ago; the sound of my heartbeat in my ears and the nervous flutter in my stomach as the hours remaining until my long-awaited reunion gradually ticked by.
Several times today I looked at the clock, subconsciously noting my destination at that time one year ago as I flew from Amsterdam to Atlanta, finally touching ground on American soil around 1pm in the afternoon. I had imagined, awaited, and counted down to that day for much of my time in Tanzania, always longing for and missing the people I left behind, eager to once again be reunited and resume the intertwining of our lives. I had never been the type of person to get homesick, always relishing in the opportunity to get out and experience new things, even as a child scoffing at those whose cries for home had them being picked up from overnight slumber parties at an early hour. Though I had imagined eight months would be significantly more difficult than summer camp and the independent college life, I was in no way prepared for the ache I felt to return home.
Reflection of those feelings fills me with a combination of regret and sadness, wishing that I had paid less attention to the countdown of days, instead unabashedly delving into Dodoma life. Though I did greatly enjoy my time in Tanzania and I wouldn’t trade it for the world, I now realize I was constantly distracted by the idea of home. I wonder now how my experience would have been different had I really let go, allowing my roots to be firmly planted in the rich, red, earth of eastern Africa.
Though those eight months were challenging, I can look back now, one year later, and truly appreciate all I was able to see, do, and learn. Retrospection is an interesting concept, often allowing you to gloss over the imperfections, remembering only the facets seemingly without flaw. I often have days like these, spent remembering and missing the shy smiles of our Carpenter’s Kids, the broken Kiswahili and English chatter in the office, and the wonderful relationships I formed and people I met along the way. Times like today, however, take me back to the raw emotion of those days, the frustrations Liz and I encountered with handling the office politics of two very different cultures, the constant and seemingly inescapable heat, the unreliable internet connection, and always the nagging longing for home. Though it might be nice to ward off these thoughts, remembering only all that was good and joyous, I am grateful for the ability to look back on my experience from both perspectives. I believe that in doing so I have been able to grow and learn, noting things I would do differently if given the chance.
Recently Bishop Mhogolo and Brian Atkins visited Grace Church, Gainesville, one of many stops along their travels to promote the work of The Carpenter’s Kids. It was almost surreal to encounter them here, as if a bit of Dodoma had been dropped right on my doorstep. While Bishop Mhogolo spoke during the education hour, a slideshow of my photos was projected behind him, depicting Tanzania’s gorgeous landscapes, the exotic animals I had encountered on various trips to Mikumi, and the striking faces of sweet Carpenter’s Kids and loving guardians. Though I have given several presentations of my own at parishes across the diocese since returning home, delving through my 10,000 photos in the
attempt to find images to match my words, it was not until that day that I sat undistracted, letting the memories of Tanzania come rushing in. I was taken aback by the feelings of sudden nostalgia and an intense longing to return. It is hard to believe that one year has gone by, and I almost feel as if my grasp on the experience is slipping away with the days on the calendar. I long to go back there, to soak up the culture and to uncover the part of my heart that will always be buried in that place. I am so grateful and appreciative of the time I spent there, the people who brought joy and happiness into each day, and the lessons learned along the way. I will never forget them.On May 1, merely weeks after returning home, my phone rang early in the morning, the caller ID displaying a strange number I did not recognize. My first instinct told me it was bad news, and yet I silenced the call, convincing myself it was a wrong number. Soon after a voicemail appeared, and upon replaying the message I heard Liz’s familiar voice, sharing the tragic news that one of our fellow missionaries had died. Saskia, a 28-year-old speech and language therapist from Holla
nd, had been in Tanzania for nearly three years. She worked at a deaf school outside of Dodoma and was only weeks away from returning home. While riding her bike home one evening she was hit by a taxi, sustaining serious head injuries. She was rushed to the hospital, where Callum and Noel quickly met her. She died soon after, as others who had heard the news rushed to the hospital. I was instantly shocked, trying to grasp that this amazing, vivacious, girl I had bid goodbye at my farewell party only weeks before, was gone. Saskia was truly wonderful, always so optimistic and constantly with a smile on her face. I was also angry at the driver of the car who hit her, having witnessed the reckless driving habits on Dodoma’s streets. It was hard to imagine something of this magnitude occurring within Dodoma, and I truly felt for all those who were there during such a tragic time. I think of Saskia often, and it saddens me to think of all the life she wasn’t done living, and all the people who will miss out on knowing her. We were all so fortunate to be touched by her presence, and I have no doubt that she is missed every day.Upon returning home last April I began restoring relationships, visiting friends, and catching up on all that had gone on in my absence. In many ways it felt like I had never been away, and I was thankful for that. My friends and family were for the most part unchanged, no drastic events had occurred since my departure, and I was almost able to slip right back into the rhythm of daily life. After Skype phone calls and hours upon hours of gmail chatting while I was away, I had mended a broken relationship, returning to put away my doubts and fall unheeded into deep, true love. The possibility of this new beginning and curiosity for what could lie ahead constituted much of the eagerness I harbored for returning home, and thus I couldn’t have been happier to have my wishes so seamlessly fulfilled.
I had been told by visitors to Tanzania that upon returning home I would experience a case of culture shock, and I had attempted to prepare myself. I was immediately struck by the sheer amount of resources and the aura of wealth that could be sensed at every corner, noting all that we take for granted and all that is wasted without a second thought. I spent some time working back at my old boutique, where the cost of one sundress was equivalent to the average yearly income in Tanzania. A year later I still find myself checking price tags and being repulsed by their numbers, when at one time I would have ignored them, thinking more of how I just couldn’t live without another pair of $150 jeans. “Need” versus “want” has taken on new significance in my life, and I try to always be grateful for even the smallest of blessings.
After much job searching, many “great resume, but no positions available” email responses, and much thought, I decided to return to school in August 2009 with a week to spare before the semester began. Though the medical field had always interested me, I deviated from the path during my freshman year at UGA, instead cultivating my creative side with a major in interior design. The economic situation combined with my brief exposure to the healthcare system of Tanzania led me to my decision to pursue a career in nursing. Eight months later I have nearly completed all of my prerequisite courses and have been accepted to the Medical College of Georgia’s Master of Science in Nursing program. I will spend sixteen months in Augusta, Georgia, and I am excited for a new chapter to begin. I can’t help but feel as if the past two semesters have been merely an intermission, a period of mundane sandwiched between the main events. I know that great things lie ahead, and I am curious to see what’s in store.
The past year has seen many changes, some good and some bad. I have made some momentous life choices, setting a path for the future and running towards it full force. I have found love and lost it, spending the last several months healing the wounds and searching for optimism. The Carpenter’s Kids has grown significantly, welcoming even more children into the loving arms of the Dodoma family. I have recognized the importance of family, of friends, and of finding a passion for something you love. I have realized that I miss Tanzania, and after counting down to my departure I now anticipate a return. I have learned that I, too, have grown and changed, and that living in the moment is often more important than constantly looking forward for what is to come.
Yes, what a difference a year can make.
