I had to opportunity to hang out with an old friend the other night and he asked me about my trip to Kenya. It'd been a few months since someone had asked me to share my experiences and stories. My heart started to pound and I could hardly sit still as stories poured out about the people I still dearly love.
I had forgotten how much I love Kenya. I had forgotten how passionate I am about orphans and street kids, especially the girls. Not really forgotten...I think about Kenya everyday. I suppose it's more that I've become accustomed to pushing past those feelings so I can be fully present in Texas.
My heart is heavy tonight as I reflect on memories, picture faces, and relive adventures. Why am I still in America? I ask myself that question every day and still have only the certainty that for this period, I need to be here. I don't know why. I don't know how long it will last. But I do know that I hope it goes by quickly.
