News from home has me shaken up. It seems like as soon as I
have gone, there are little crises everywhere. And nothing that I can change
from here. It’s so frustrating. I want to be with my family to support them
through illness and heartbreak. As a write this, most everyone is on the mend,
but this past week has been very hard as I balanced the start of school with my
fears for my loved ones at home. I especially broke when I found my little
brother was suffering (I call him my little brother, but truly he is twenty
years old and about a foot taller than me.) I always though, prayed, or
believed in my heart that after the death of our oldest brother, God (or
whatever you believe in) would let me be the messed up child with depression
and broken love entanglements, but that my little brother would be protected
from all of it. That kid deserves the world. He is such a good boy. He is honest;
he tries hard, does well in school, honors our parents, and shows kindness
without having to be asked. Why does his heart have to be broken? Why does he
deserve that? But I know to ask why when there are moments of pain means that
you also have to ask why for every moment of happiness. Life comes as it does,
and we cannot change it sometimes. I’ve sent messages to my army of family
friends back home to support my folks and my brother, and bless them, everyone
has stepped up. The showing of love from people who don’t owe us anything, but
with whom we share bonds of familiar friendship is humbling and gives me great
strength.
Dad, My Loved Step-mom, and I around my university graduation
My roommate calls these fears and worries a wicked earthworm
(her term for the devil’s temptation, I think,) calling me away from my calling
to teach here in Africa. It is safe to say that I’m firmly rooted here now, and
committed to the work (though I haven’t learned my students’ names just yet!)
But there is a lot of I would for a teleportation device, just to go home and
give love and comfort as best I can. Somehow phone calls and text messages don’t
seem like enough. I want to give hugs and bring orange Jell-o to my stepmom
when her stomach hurts; I want to randomly drive my little brother to Hershey
Park to distract him. But these a sister cannot do from Uganda. So I call our
army of friends, and they have come, and I am humbled and amazed. My family is
so loved, and not just by me. Though they would never admit it, I think it is a
feather in the cap of my parents, who raised us right. My brothers and I are
decent people (or so I like to think!) and I’ll never forget the sacrifices
that my family made to form us that way.
A particular shout-out to my step-mother,
who was a comfortable mother of one before she married my father, then gladly
welcomed his three (!) children into her home and has raised us as her own ever
since. She was not obligated to do that. She did it selflessly and out of love.
She supports me even now and gives me love and strength every time I talk to
her. I didn’t understand it when I was young; I fought her and was a wicked
child. But I understand now. Family isn’t easy. And we are all blessed to be
loved. My mother too- she has struggled with her own pains and sufferings in
life, but has always fought to be the mother that is in her to be. She has
learned to be a good mother to adult children. And that’s not an easy thing!
LIttle brother and Mom
So. All this just to say that I love my family and I am thinking of them as
they go through rough times far away. If you know them, please shower them with
love. My Facebook messages never feel like enough to show the squishy love of
my heart.
Lots of Love,
Diane
PS- My friends, this all goes for you too! You are each and every one special and precious people to me. Thanks for being there, and being you.
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