Pants

The only good thing about today is the fact that I am wearing the most comfortable pair of pants I've ever had constricting my leg movements. seriously. And that's saying something, because if there's anything I dislike more than pants, it's wearing them. Anyone that knows me knows that I prefer to dance around without them. Not in any scandalous way, let me assure you. You try wearing nothing but skirts for 3 months strait and then tell me your thoughts about trying to squeeze your chunky legs into two tight tubes better known as pantalones. We all know that when I came back from Africa I couldn't even fit into my pants, and that is when the once beautiful relationship was over and we went our separate ways. So, I continue the blissful freedom of flowing skirts and loose athletic shorts. Even now, I wake up in the morning and groan to my roommate, "do I have to wear pants?" Yes she replies, "pants are always a necessity." I rarely take her advice. But, she loves wearing pants. I can't explain how we ended up the perfect roommates when we have such fundamentally different views.

Well dear roomie, you should be very proud of me for wearing pants today and enjoying it.

It must mean that today was just one awful day, or these are some very amazing pants.

Small

Some days I feel really small. I think about the size of the boulder that almost flattened my entire climbing class; the size of the truck that almost ran me over last night; the size of the flight of stairs I climbed on my way to school; the trees, the buildings. I look up at those rocky mountains towering over me, look up past the sky and envision my relative size compared to all that's around me. I think of how far away home is, or better yet, how far away my heart seems to feel sometimes. I say goodnight to my mother as she tucks herself into bed, and I sit at the kitchen table eating dinner because it's only 7 o'clock here. I think about Carrie, who's chatting about Saturday mornings at work when I haven't even finished Friday yet. Space, time. It's all so massive. And here I am, standing on a little speck of concrete, on my even smaller feet, twiddling my minuscule fingers and wondering what significance such a tiny creature really can have. Heck, and I'm not even as small as an ant, they must feel really small.

And yet when I look at the world around me, instead of feeling limited and irrelevant because of my size, I'm inspired. Empowered, that something as small as me can make a difference in such a ginormous world; that we aren't quantified by our size, but qualified by our capabilities, and more importantly our potential. Being small only gives me that much more room to grow and fill my place in the world.

June 3rd 2010

This is an excerpt from my journal:

June 3rd is Martyrs day in Uganda. It's a huge national holiday. In 1886 the king of Buganda, named Mwanga, felt threatened by the rise of Christianity. He feared that his people would worship Christ more than him, so he decided to eliminate Christianity by killing all the Christians. He forces 25 of his pages (13 Anglican and 12 Roman Catholic) to walk 37 miles to Namugongo. Because they would not deny their faith in Christ, the pages were tortured, wrapped in bamboo and then burned alive. The flames we started at their feet, giving them the opportunity to renounce their beliefs up until their death. There are two shrines in Namugongo (one for the Anglicans and one for the Roman Catholics) to honor these 25 martyrs and the many others who died for their beliefs. Today, June 3rd, is recognized by most of Eastern Africa. People pilgrimage to Namugongo before and on this day to remember the sacrifices that were made. People walk there from all over, including Kenya, Tanzania, Rwanda and Congo. There were so many people there, it was incredible. We visited both shrines and learn all about the events that took place at that very spot, not so many years ago. I spent the day marveling at the courage of these young men. Would I be ready to lay down my life for what I believe? Would I be strong enough to endure the pains of torture and burning alive without denying my faith in Jesus Christ? Would you?

June 3rd, 2010: I was in a completely foreign country, on a continent half-way around the world, living with a group of people that I hadn't even known a month prior to the day. The day wasn't about me. I was in Africa serving the people of Uganda. I was whole heartedly invested in others, and so just for the experience, I forgot about myself a little.

And it was still the best birthday because there were the pieces of it that were special to me:

First, after days of restlessness, I ran. I took the path through the sugarcanes fields out behind the sugar factory with Carrie and Cecilly and I just ran. I'd never felt so alive before in my life. My lungs thrived on the beauty of everything around me. The glory of being alive, of being healthy, of being there! I felt like I could have run forever.

Next, I blissfully savored a Snickers bar that Carrie bought me in Mukono. Something American that happened to be my favorite candy bar. It was perfection.

Finally, just before bed, my mom called me and traditionally sang Happy Birthday to me.

Yeah, best birthday yet.