Dream

8 hours. 8 hours of getting up about 5 times to be violently sick once again.

In the 6 months of me living in Ethiopia, I think I have spent about 4 of them sick. And now with only 7 days left in this country, I find myself dreaming all night of being back in a country where I don’t have to worry about getting a parasite or amoeba from everything.

I won’t have to worry about soaking my fruits and vegetables for 30 minutes in disinfectant before eating them.

I won’t have to run back to my house, after walking half a mile, to get toilet paper just in case I have to use the bathroom at the nearest restaurant. 

I won’t have to put in my headphones as I walk down the street to drown out the men yelling, “Hey! You! Need a husband?”-seemingly the only english phrase they know how to say. Or the little kids running after me saying “and birr or and dabo” (one birr or one bread).

I won’t have to feel guilty about not helping every single beggar that taps on my taxi window or follows me rattling the small amount of change in his hand.

I won’t have to wince as I watch the goats be dragged down the streets or as the dogs and vultures rip apart a dead donkey.

I won’t have to lay in a hard bed or get caught in the torrential down pours of rain, then walk back home to change because i have mud splatter all over me....

But yet, as I sit here and dream of all the things I won’t have to deal with, tears run down my face simply because I won’t have to deal with them.

I have 7 days left in this country and even as much as I dream of coming “home”, I realize I am home. And my last 7 days here are going to be so much harder then the 4 months I’ll be back in the states because this is where I want to be. This is where I’m supposed to be. 

To say I’m terrified about going back to the states, is a complete understatement. I’m scared I’m going to hate my friends and my family. I’m scared I’m going to cry everyday and have no one who knows what to do with me. I’m afraid I’m going to alienate myself from everyday life.

There is a mass amount of fears going on inside of me. I somewhat feel like Jonah. I feel like I know that I’m called to go back home but I feel like I’m running around like a chicken with my head cut off and that I want to find the nearest harbor and jump on a boat and hide. I don’t want to leave because I’m just so scared.

But as my friend Tamara posted in her blog, I have to have hope and I have to hold on. I’m going to keep fighting and continue to remember that he never does leave me. He never will forsake me. 

He is here holding my hand tighter more now than ever before.