Stuck.

Sorry for the sudden lapse on my journey down the breath-taking one laned streets of my African memory lane. The to-do's of every day American life seem to be drowning me these days. I'm finding it harder and harder to have a moment to get back to that place ~ that place that Africa birthed inside my Jesus lovin heart. What's even worse is that I find myself detesting myself for losing this balance I promised I would perfectly master. I thought it would be easy to have my African heart and my American heart and the two could coincide in harmony, but it only seems one can beat at a time these days. It's painful to realize you're losing your grasp on something so pure, something so huge that your little life has imploded from the impact.

It tortures my soul that the memories are fading from their vibrant status in the foreground of my eye's wide angle lens to a disgruntled 2nd place behind the distorted glare of bifocal glasses. It's consuming my energy to focus on the very things that don't deserve to devour my attention; sleep deprivation, attachment disorder chaos, money, appt's, grocery shopping, bills, chores, this, that and the other thing. I find myself feeling failed when I so easily get overwhelmed by the very things that shouldn't control my life.

Transitioning back into this world of waste, vanity, immorality, luxury, ridiculous wealth and unappreciated privilege is apparently harder than I imagined. I yearn for simplicity, beauty, generosity, rich spirits, thirst quenching faith, soulful hospitality and the freedom in poverty. It seems so very long ago that my feet touched the powdered red clay of African soil. I think I could be tired of grieving over the pieces of me I left in Africa settling on the fact that my puzzle will never be complete again. I'm afraid my brain is powering down and the screen saver is getting more air time these days, or someone could have even tripped on the cord and pulled the plug right out of the wall for all I know. I refuse to begin blogging about Rwanda until I can mentally go back to Africa with red-hot intensity, passion, love, faith and all the emotions I can't even name. I'm looking for the peace and strength to open my heart and reveal the Rwandan treasures hiding in there, they are so precious the radiant glow might hurt your eyes! I won't write one word until I can smell the fresh honey flavored flowers that filled the African air. I can't find a way to form sentences until my eyes can see the mist rising off the thousands of lush green hills on a perfect morning in Kigali, Rwanda sitting on a small wooden chair soakin in every ounce of loveliness that surrounds me. I'm sorry but I can't go back yet not until I find that grace only God can send to my fingertips so...I'm stuck, without words...please bare with me as I'm hoping whoever pulled the plug on my power supply will come back and restore the connection soon! It's pathetic sitting here in the dark ~ afraid of forgetting what it looks like in the light.

Soon, something's gotta give soon.