There are lows in trying to 'help.'

So why do I want to cry?

I can’t blame fatigue today.

I used to cry too much. I take an antidepressant that stops me from crying almost completely, unfortunately. But, today, I am starting to sob.

I feel as though I have been trying to step very carefully for 2 ½ months. What comes naturally for me and brings joy to me, isn’t necessarily right here. There is nothing like holding the kids. I LOVE opening doors to new worlds for young people - like game drives and new discoveries. The kids have documented their lives for me with my cell phone. Today I realize that each of these things may have hurt more than it helped. 

I know just enough about anthropology to know that my way is not the right way (as a western thinker).

I know just enough about people to know that kids need the kind of attention these kids don’t normally get, for some very good reasons. I have chosen to give it to them and hope they don’t pay an unforeseeable price. I think I am paying the price today for the bonds we’ve creative.

I have given the best I had to give but something has been amiss in me and today I just sit here, needing to cry.

I have a great job that pays me very well. Andy earned and saved for 30 years for a very nice pension. We want to use those blessings to glorify God. I just feel that the more I try to do that, the more I misstep. By giving, I inadvertently hurt people.

The rules are completely different in a developing country and I am tired of trying to understand through language and culture differences and personal boundaries that stop deep conversation.

Volunteer work has lows. This is one of mine. I can’t call it doing mission work because I know very clearly now that I am not a missionary. I am a short term volunteer.

When my kids were really getting independent and I needed to let that happen without interference, I would sing the song, “I surrender all.” I hear those words in my ears today. I think I am fully realizing that I need to give the kids back to God, as if they have been 'mine' for a couple months. They are not mine, and never were. They belong to their families, to Social Services in Namibia, to CHI, to the Ark, but not to me. I can’t protect them, I can’t provide for them, I can’t hold onto them. I need to surrender them and today…

that is through tears.