A couple of weeks ago, I had to finalize my flight dates to come back to Vancouver. I’ve known for a little while now that my plans would be to stay in Uganda until June, and once I was able to confirm with Watoto that I would be able to get a new visa through immigration, I contacted my travel agent back at home to book my final return flights.
When I was in the process of planning this trip, I intentionally didn’t put an “end” date on it. I knew in my heart that I wouldn’t be here for more than one year; but also didn’t know quite how long within that one year period I would end up staying. My employer has been incredibly gracious in allowing me the flexibility of leaving my return date unknown. And so I came trusting that God would have me here as long as I was supposed to be. No more. No less.
And then in that moment that I received a very quick response from my travel agent to confirm that all of my flights had been confirmed, and I was looking at my new flight itinerary, I had this strange sense of sadness. Like there was now an official END date to this experience.
A couple of days later, I was sitting in a coffee shop, and for some reason, I had to look at a calendar to count the number of weeks I had left in Uganda. And then those feelings of anxiousness started to hit me. I thought about how quickly 5 months has flown by; and knowing that my time here was now well over halfway finished, how quickly it would be before I had to start saying my goodbyes.
Don’t get me wrong; there is much about home that I am looking forward to. I had a conversation the other day with one of my roommates and I was saying that it is so strange to feel like you have two worlds that “fit”. I love my life in Vancouver, but I love my life in Uganda too.
The following Sunday, I purposely kept the day very low key, with not much on the schedule other than some much needed down time. One of those days that you spend a lot of time reflecting. My thoughts kept coming back to the word enjoy; and felt challenged not to worry about the time that I had left, but to enjoy the moments that happen in the time that I have left.
Our volunteer flat is directly above the big toddler unit in the babies home, so it is not uncommon for us to hear the activity happening down below. That afternoon, I could hear Abeso, one of our little girls, crying. A lot. Knowing that there was still a bit of time before they would be having their dinner, I went downstairs and snuck her out of the unit for some one-on-one cuddle time. The weather was cool and rainy outside, and we sat on the ledge of the play area, just quietly, and snuggled for about 30 minutes. And again, my thoughts came back to those words just enjoy.
And so that is now my daily resolve. Not to worry about how quickly the time is passing. Not to think about how different it will feel to be back in Vancouver again. Not to think about all of those that I will have to say goodbye to soon enough. But to live in the moments that I have left in my time here.
Early on Friday morning, Watoto was contacted to take in a tiny baby boy that had been found near a railway track in Kampala. When he was brought to the home in Kampala, he was assessed and taken for immediate medical care. His temperature was almost non-existent, and he had suffered a severe head injury. Out here from Suubi, we had heard that there was a new baby, and that he was in very serious condition. The Watoto staff worked all through the night to do what they could medically for him. And despite making it through the first 24 hours, he passed away on Saturday afternoon.
I never met this little one. But still, the thought of how he endured his much-too-short period of time on this earth, causes me to shake my head and ask the question why. Im thankful that he’s no longer suffering, and that in the last few hours of his life, he was surrounded by people that loved him dearly, and did everything that they could to care for him.
So, do I always feel like having 8 toddlers climbing all over me? Nope. Do I love it when they come running up to me with a face covered in cereal and bury it in my clothes? Nope. Are there hard days? Yup. But even in those moments, I get to choose to show love to our crew of tinies. And what my heart gets back in return can’t even compare to what I’m giving out. What a privilege.
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