Sunday 3rd

I awoke this morning to a very familiar but dreaded sound. Roaches. It's one of the few sounds in my life that can make me jump right out of my skin at the very same time that my heart is sinking to the pit of my stomach. Fear and knowing coursing through your veins; the adrenaline that forces you to move though you dread what might meet you. I hate cockroaches. Napping is one of the other things that rattles me so, or rather napping interrupted. You're dozing in warm, comfortable bliss when you hear the door handle creak. You have just a split second to decide what to do; either jump up and pretend like you're pacing round the room or grab a book and pretend like you're reading it. Neither of these work to fool the intruder of course. If the pillow creases on your face don't give it away, the bleary eyes and upside down book will. But it's something you feel you ought to do anyway. There's nothing wrong with napping per-say, but when you're only twenty two and should be studying, it's probably not the best use of your time.

Regarding the roaches, further investigation proved me wrong; it was just a beetle in a paper bag. Oh, happy days.

This morning, Cat and I prayed together. I hate to admit it but it was the first time I’ve really sat down and prayed for the people I’ve met on my travels since I’ve left them. But it makes so much sense and a heavy burden was lifted. I guess I’ve been carrying around a lot of stuff lately. As I prayed, I said aloud the things that my friends are going through. It was hard because the reality of their lives is really sad, but it forced me to confront the issue that's bothering me the most; that there's nothing I can do about it. I’ll never forget these dear people, nor should I; but I need to trust them to God and move on. I’ll pray for them and my life will forever be changed by them, but I cannot carry their burdens. I will however let their troubles convict and compel me to be a better advocat.

I hadn't noticed until now, but my goal for this year has been realised. I wanted to be broken by the things that break God's heart. I wanted to be so devastated by poverty and injustice, sickness and oppression, that I couldn't speak of them without tears in my eyes. I wanted such devastating conviction that I wouldn't be able to walk away from someone in need, even if that someone were a stranger on a foreign continent that I’d never met before. If I found it hard before to ignore those charity plea photos of starving children with flies buzzing around weepy eyes on alien heads, of women so sick that they cannot nurse their babies, of amputees laying by the roadside begging, it is almost impossible for me to do so now. It sounds brutal but before they were just nameless, faceless Africans. Now every woman is Mama Brigette, every child is Isabelle, every man is Shumbusho. And I have to act on their behalf because I love them.

Up till now I fought so hard to hide my brokenness because of my pride, but now I know I must not only learn to live with it but also embrace it because it fuels compassion and by God's grace will make my life a greater witness to His love and the glory of his Kingdom. Amen.

Lastly but not leastly the journey home. When I left Cat it was drizzling and the wind was Arctic, but by the time I got to the train stop it was pouring down and I felt miserable.

I waited for a while with no sign of the train or much reason at all to believe that I was in the right place. When I saw the train down the road heading off in a different direction, I abandoned my post and began chase. Eventually I lost sight of it but not before finding the station. By the time the next train came, I was sopping wet and very cold. The only shoes I’ve had with me all year have been flip flops, and today my toes were freezing. But being in a country not my own with little fear of bumping into someone I knew, I put my woolly slippers on.

I didn't care any more. My feet were cold and I had a solution. So far I’m not having much fun here, but then again, the rain always makes me feel blue.