Shards of Foam

Tonight like many nights a year, I’ll go to bed in a king size hotel bed with high count thread sheets, and down pillows. Tomorrow night, when I get back to Nashville, I’ll fall asleep in a full size bed, down comforter and down sheets. I am very blessed.

In the past week, I’ve been looking a lot at the photos of where Ugandan children sleep every night. Dirt floors. Shards of foam. A thin blanket. No pillow. No blanket. Today, I’ve been challenging myself with the questions: could I endure one night on a dirt floor? Shards of Foam? A thin blanket? I’m sure I could, but how would I feel in the morning, tired, dirty, sore, would I even sleep as my phobia of rats is so intense, that I would be too petrified to close my eyes. Could I do it for more than one night? Yet there are millions of orphans each night who go to bed on dirt floors, on mattresses that have had every type of human matter soak through for years, on shards of foam, with or without a blanket and even with rats.

Since I decided to travel to Gulu with Jen, I’ve been attempting to prepare myself for what I’m about to witness. The other night I was having drinks with my friend, Sil and I said “I’m really trying to mentally prepare for this trip. I’ve seen homeless, poverty and the hungry, here in the states and in other third world countries. But I don’t believe I’m prepared to see 1 million displaced people with no home, food, access to clean water or medical treatment”. Sil said to me “you can’t prepare. The first time I went to India I almost had a nervous breakdown”. I thought to myself “yikes, I feel a lot of tears brewing”…and I’m not a crier.

Last night, I was chatting with Margaret (Jen’s best friend), she mentioned both she and her husband someday want to go on a Sweet Sleep trip, but she thinks it’d be beneficial for them to go at the same time. Her thought being that a trip will be such a life changing experience that if one went and the other didn’t it could create a divide. I couldn’t have agreed with her more. In the last 8 days, not only have I mentally felt the effects of this trip settling in, I can feel the trip physically changing me as well.

A lot of you have heard me say “I love kids, I love sending them home”, when I play with and hold my friends’ kids who I love and adore, there is no maternal pang or desire to have “my own”. Yet, I’m thinking about these kids I’m about to meet who have no parents, who are hungry, who have seen things in their young lives, that we as Americans can’t even fathom. My heart hurts, I literally feel my heart strings being pulled from 15,000 miles away. I’m going to hug and hold every child there I can get my hands on. In fact today, I was thinking would my photography suffer, because I’d be too busy being in the moment, rather than capturing the moment.

About a month ago, I was having a conversation with a colleague of mine, who I believe was traveling in Peru, when the group she was traveling with came across some children. She went to go play with one and a doctor she was with warned her to stay away, because the child appeared to have an infection of some sort. I personally, felt that was a travesty, I thought to myself, if I’m ever in that situation I will not be afraid and I will trust that God will protect me and keep me healthy while I play with the child.

In the days to come there will be times when my blog is deep and pensive like this one and others when it will be funny, silly or grateful. I am blessed that you care and you read. I am grateful for your prayers, your positive thoughts, your best wishes. I hope as you go to bed tonight and you lay your head down, you think about how you can make someone else’s place of rest sweet.