Mbale is Beauty

Mbale.
Beautiful. enchanted I think. There must be fairies and angels moving harmoniously about the air here.
Roe and I sit in an internet cafe... nestled next to this great green mountain.
I felt sick this morning, but then better. Seems to be the trend.
Woke up in the middle of the night with an ill stomach.
I walked toward the bathroom. Heard this strange buzzing sound. I jumped. But everyone slept.
I jumped again, buzz... buzz....
eery. Eventually I did what needed to be done, but was freaked out all the while.
I laugh now, thinking of myself jumping around last night in the dark like a crazy person. All because of a little buzzing... but the buzzing bug PROBABLY could have killed. Silly me.

And Yesterday we met the staff.
We drank Kenyan tea. And Sang together praise.
9 of them, all locals from Mbale.
Paul 1, Paul 2, Paul 3
Patrick
Livingstone.
Vicki, Susan, Mariam.
Moses.
Each with hearts that glow.

I took a shower from a bucket and felt so clean. Refreshed. It was fun.
Yesterday Livingstone took us on a walk throughout the hills. Again. I was taken aback. My breath robbed from me. The green plants. The red dirt. The dark and beautiful women, children, men.
We walked up and down and around. Mulembe. Peace. Mulembe.

The sounds, the birds, the beauty. The cows. The goats. The chickens. Roe and i want to steal one, and I want to name it Frederick. But that's what I named my stomach illness...

Yes my heart is confused. Where do i fit in this world? What exactly is required of me? I'm not even doing anything... yet why am I still here? Am I lonely? Or content? And what does it mean to be content in this moment and not always thinking ahead or behind? Thinking about home... and Africa... and the relations of all things.
And questions storm my mind. So I rested yesterday. I journaled... writing about the things I know that make me content. About chocolate cookies and love. And connections with people. And conversations that feel as though the souls hold hands. And the warmth of a blanket. And a cup of coffee. And relieving one's bladder. You must admit :). And Sunshine and rainstorms and dancing and singing. And painting and drawing. And smiling. And hearing Acapella voices cry out to God through Psalms, as we did yesterday morn. So I write out the makings of momentous joy as I sit under my princess bed. Yes. It is a bigger bed than I've ever slept in. Pink sheets. A mosquito net. And I feel like an African princess. Probably the only time in my life I'll be comforted by the color pink.

And Roe and I woke up from our rest and conversed. Sometimes these conversations feed the heart. This one indeed did, as we chatted about race and color and how this all must be both reconciled and celebrated, rather than turned into hostility among human beings. And we spoke of the moment. Of how one balances comfort and discomfort. How one can live an American lifestyle yet still love the African children... and where is this balance found? I have yet to know. and must never know. or at least never be numb to this question.
Because the point is to be broken enough, yet not too much. A broken heart allows one to feel,
yet a destroyed heart disables one to love.

Ill keep exploring this, as I sit here in the heavenly Mbale.
Tomorrow we go to the feilds. I am frightened and eager.

And ill continue these beautiful conversations with Roe, the staff, and the people I encounter.
I indeed miss home, but I indeed love this day. Because how can i feel down when I walk through such beauty and the sun dances around my face?

So today dear Vicki is taking us to her village. :)

"When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
 when sorrows like sea billows roll;
 whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say,
 It is well, it is well with my soul."