Ready.

                 I have been back from Uganda for six months now. For, those six months I told myself that while I was back “home” I would use this time to re-define myself, to finally be defined as something other than the girl that went to Africa. So, I took all the advice I was given, I took time to process, regroup, made every effort to be present, I did everything I could to not bring up Africa, anything to be "normal again". A search of sorts to find the true desires of my heart.

                 But perhaps I had it wrong all along, perhaps all that I was looking for was already deeply etched in my heart. Perhaps, I had gotten really good at the art of forgetting. That “art” however left me so empty and so unsure, to the point of numbness and isolation. It wasn’t till recently when I met a friend that asked all the right questions. A friend that opened up those deeps parts of my heart and reminded me what was there all along. To most of you this will come as no surprise, that within the walls of my heart in the spaces I have for too long been afraid to talk about was a place called Africa.

                 So, recently I set out on a different type of search one that allowed me to feel again, to be released from the bondage of numbness and remember someone special. His name is James. If it was not for this handsome, charming, and wisdom filled boy I would have no story to tell. Because he started it all 5 years ago, on my very first day in the Zambian bush in a lovely place were I taught and lived, called Children’s Town.

                 We all have people in our lives that in instant change everything. For me that was James. With in the first five minutes of knowing him I knew I would never be the same again. To paint you a picture of the conditions I lived in: no electricity, no running water, no bathroom, and a slate of concrete outside to bathe in a bucket. Lets just say my first few days, okay my first few weeks were rough. James would come over and help me build a fire and tell me stories about his life. How his mother had died and his step-father would beat him eventually forcing him to the streets, where he would spend his days begging for money. He told me that if it wasn’t for God he never would have lived long enough to make it to Children’s Town (a school for orphans and kids from the street). He told me that now, no matter what he had something to live for. More remarkable than anything else is in the seven months I got to spend with him, he never stopped telling me how much he believed in me.

                 To make a long story short, short because I am going to beg my good friend Laura Zirkle to make a documentary about me going back to find James and see where he is now. It has been 3 years since the last time I saw him. If my math is at all correct he would be almost 18 now. I want to go back to hug that sweet boy again, but I also want the world(and by that I mean my closest friends) to be able to hear his story. In a world where we have forgotten to believe… this is a story about believing in James. We have everything to learn from people and the places furthest from us. My hope is that maybe, just maybe that by sharing this with all of you, that it will challenge you to dig deep in the places hidden and realize that all you have ever loved, everything your passionate about, and all the true desires of your heart are right there waiting for you.