When I returned from Africa in 2013, I had been home six months before I had the chance to meet anyone from Hands US. I remember when I first met Lauren she encouraged me to write a story about my experience. Our time together got busy and the holidays came. I never did write a story.
Of course, I've written so many stories here. But you're probably here because we know each other somehow. We have connections. Lauren encouraged me to write a story for the Hands website, that would be seen by people I may not have personal connections to. Which is great! but kind of overwhelming, too.
I think it was after I returned home from South Africa in May, I was approached by other members of the Comms team to write about my time at Celebrations. I agreed, but oh how I struggled! Writers block of the worst kind! Finally, I just decided to pretend that I was blogging for all of you like any other day. It worked! In July it was published on the Hands US newsroom. Incidentally, I've never been much of a 'behind the scenes' person - but when it comes to Comms, now I am: I wrote the story, put it into the website and formatted it for our newsletter. If you want, you can read the story here.
I remember my first story for the website being a very dramatic. Dealing with my aforementioned writers block, not knowing how to express what I wanted to express, wanting to represent Hands well... so many things! I wrote another story in Zambia and the experience could not have been more different! It was a God moment - there is no other explanation. It was so sad, yet such an amazing day. George often says when he's been out in rural communities, where he tends to see hard circumstances and experience incredibly basic things, that is where he meets Jesus. For the first time, I really think I know what he means.
I scribbled everything I wanted to share on paper at the care point. I didn't want to miss a thing and risk forgetting it. Looking back, I didn't need to worry because that day is as etched into my mind as clear as if I was there right now - but I wanted to be sure to do it justice. I had my small netbook tucked away in my backpack. When we were back in the van, driving back to Lusaka, I pulled it out and typed feverishly away. My back-seat friend (I loved when we hit bumps! he did not!) looked at me, puzzled (though his puzzled expression in regards to me was not uncommon) wondering what on earth I could have to say so much about. He did insist on holding my notes for me so I could just focus on typing though. From there all I had to do was check the word count to make sure it was within target and finesse a few things. Almost as soon as I returned to the US, I sat down and edited it three times to make sure it was just right: honest, yet confidential.
I don't know when it will be published. I didn't tell anyone I had written it. I merely added it to the folder of stories. At the moment, it is not officially on the docket - which is fine. I'm sure it will be posted, and I will be sure to let you know what that happens. Really, it is a simple story about a day I spent with a four year old boy. It is such an ordinary story, yet God opened my heart to allow something extraordinary happen. It's so special to me and if no one ever reads it, that's fine by me - but if you get the chance to read it, I truly hope it touches you in some way.
I think I experienced a hint of mother's love that day, and I know that the little boy stole a piece of my heart!
