It's The Same When Nothing Else Is.

This time last year, I was so sold on going to Africa.

And now I'm not.

Why? What's changed? What's happened to make things different?

I just read entries from January of last year, and one of them was all about wanting to open an orphanage/boarding school in Africa for girls. When did that dream stop being so exciting? And now, as I think about it again, why do I have knots and butterflies in my stomach? Why do I have the urge to get on a plane and go - somewhere - anywhere - and make a difference? Why do I think it's weird to have that urge?

I thought I didn't care about Africa anymore. And yeah, it made me sad, but I thought it was because I just want to teach.

But Africa...

I still want it.
I still want to make positive changes in the lives of the beautiful people living there. I still want to hold the chldren dying of AIDS and offer them hope. I still want to braid ladies' hair and tell them that prostitution isn't the only way out of poverty, that in the end, it will make them feel even more dead. I still want to give a cow to a hungry farmer so he can give his family milk and cheese, and meat later down the road.

I thought those desires were gone.
But they aren't. They're still there - hidden and hurt under lots of neglect and a hardened heart. They're there, but I have to start taking the time to examine them, to pray about them, to think and dream and plan.

I thought my desires had changed. I thought I had changed.
But...I haven't.
Africa hasn't, either.