I know its been an irresponsible period of time since my last post and I can say for sure that my (non-sexual… hello) little black book is chock full of things I want to shake loose from my fingers. But what happened in Africa is for another day…

As a recent graduate, still finding the red dust of Africa under her nails, I am restless for more. Not necessarily more of Africa, or missions, or bucket showers and mosquito nets. Not for a color explosion sunset with a darkness peeling back in a morning epiphany. Not for the endless sand dunes of the Sahel, and the creeping darkness of the desert punctuated by the cries of horrified goats and hunting geckos. Africa was beautiful, but beaten. She was weary and draped her arms casually around my neck, leaving burning, bruised imprints on my throat. I cried when I left but still I ran back, thankful, home to America. Still, I’m restless.

I’m restless for this life after college and exams, free from an environment that ticks and tocks around an academic and bus schedule. My own fears and obligations and sense of duties could not chain me in Africa. I felt the joy of serving because I served One, not for myself or for others because a contract told me to. I felt the impact and the joy of prayer because I sat before Him and saw His creation and I couldn’t help but say “DANG”. Look at the night sky in Africa and I dare you to say God isn’t real.

I try to incoherently explain how I feel. Does it make sense that I just want to jump off a cliff, open my eyes so wide that I can see music that I’ve never appreciated before, watch films that confuse me, drink deeply from a cup of hot chai so that my eyes can’t peer through the steam? All at once I want to travel, study languages, take photographs, compose music, dance and yell! and run straight into His arms.

So for now, I am restlessly thankful in Urbana; slowly and surely, I fish my heart back from Africa and look forward to what will come.

the beginning of the tip of the sahara