A month ago I literally put my heart on my sleeve - when I tattooed Africa on my arm. In the past month I have been asked more times than ever some variation of:
"You really want to live in Africa?"
"Have you ever been to Africa? (No.) Than how do you know you will like it there?"
"If you have never been... what if you hate it there? What then?"
"It seems like you are putting all your eggs in one basket."
"Why would you want to live... there?!"
It never gets easier to hear these things. And sometimes I stand in front of these people and stare at them. How am I supposed to answer them? How do you express the very depths of your heart to people when what you feel doesn't make sense to them? In those moments I want to break down crying and punch them in the face.
The only answer I have is... My heart is in Africa. It's time my body is too.
I have an unexplainable love for Africa and her people. I have a pain inducing longing to live my life on it's soil. The only place I have ever wanted to be is there. When I would daydream about my future as a teenager I only pictured my life being in Africa. My ten year plan has always been there.
It's always been Africa. Always. And I can't explain that. It's just what it is.
It might not make sense to them. It might not make sense to you. But the pain I feel in not being there is real and it is deep. And sometimes it's just too much to bear.
And as the covers go up over my head at night and the tears make their way onto the pillow my heart breaks a little more. In those moments I question God's timing...
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