The last few weeks have flown by. There have been many struggles in our group that have challenged us all. Please pray for our team that now consists of two groups. One group of ten has returned to the states early and four students plus Dr. Garner and his wife make up those remaining in Africa.
Before part of the team returned to America, we had the opportunity to visit Lusaka, the capital city for three nights. I finally got a latte. I was one happy read headed American. We toured the University of Zambia, the only university in the country. There are 5,000 students. Few people in Zambia can attend. You must have money and very high grades.
We also went to the zoo where we were about 4 feet from lions. They were eating chicken, whole. Feathers everywhere and it smelled terrible. The lions did not seem happy to have visiters during dinner, and I jumped when it roared at us. They are really loud when you are that close. We also saw Pumbaa, the wart hog. Well, his name was not really Pumbaa, but that is what we called him. Our Zambian hostess, Maureen, began singing a Lion King song, and we all bust out laughing. She is usually so quiet. Some things are just universal.
We also went to an urban trust. It was much different than a rural trust. The houses were so close to each other. Everywhere you looked trash lined the streets. Along the same roads, produce and chickens were offered by women hoping to gain a little quatcha (currency). There was a barber shop which consisted of a chair in front of the house. The innocent children, however, looked the same, happy to have visitors. They seem void of the knowledge that life is hard for them.
Some elderly women showed us their school, which had a dirt floor and no chairs. Those teachers, without a college education, were so proud of that building and the one broken chalk board they shared. These wonderful people show us over and over that empowerment should be the goal of all ministry. Programs only work when they create dignity and worth. Anything else is just a handout that continues to keep the “have nots” dependant on the “haves.” In other words, we continue to help others in order to feed our own egos or financial interests.
The pastor of the church in this trust is the only pastor for 500 people. I asked him if he dealt with a lot of HIV/AIDS, and he slowly and sadly replied, “Yes, and all I can do is pray and try to comfort them.” I told him that was the most important thing to do. In reality, however, I was mad. This gentle man is working in a community with an extremely high rate of HIV/AIDS and massive poverty, but he has received no seminary education as a pastor. He has no training in grief counseling. It appears to this outsider that these people have been left alone to struggle and die. They are neglected by THE church. This was the only place we have been where people made rude gestures at us or threw soft things at our vehicle. It is easy to see how anger can pour from so much suffering.
That evening we went to a Chinese restaurant. It was in an empty warehouse. It felt almost wrong after the sights of the day. All I could think of was my mom telling us to eat all our food because children in Africa were starving. I ate all my food and not one child in Africa was less hungry. On the other hand, it was a fun place and allowed everyone to relax after a long hard day.
On Sunday we went to church and all the praise songs were in English. I did not realize how much I missed praising God with words as well as music. Since my church in Choma is poor, we have no song books to use. Some people have a song book of their own, and if you are blessed enough to sit next to one of them, they will share with you. The songs are in Tonga, but you can at least pretend you are singing them right. It helped me to realize how hard it must be for those who immigrate to America without speaking English. How precious is a hymn sung in your heart language.
After church we went to a market to buy suveinirs. Most of the students really had fun, but I struggled with it. The sellers would give you a big price and then you would barter. I just had a hard time bartering with people who were starving. If I told them no thank you, they would say, “What is your offer?” If you walked away they would say things like, “Please Madame, look and offer. I need to buy food” or “Madame, business is slow, and I need to pay my space rent.” Now, in America this is often a business tactic, but many of these people were selling for someone else and really knew the meaning of hunger. I knew the patchwork purse offered had been stitched on a foot powered trendle machine. The going price? 15,000 k, or 3 U.S. dollars.
I began to get sick at the market and by Monday morning I was very sick. By night fall, I thought I was going to die. Not really, but close. Tuesday morning I went to the clinic, where I was admitted for dehydration and some bacteria thing. I about paniced when I saw the room, where three beds were placed. The bed was covered with something that looked like a blue checkered table cloth. The needle was new and wrapped. There was only one size so it was very painful as the nurse shoved it into the back of my hand. I noticed that my nurse did not wear gloves when she inflicted pain on my person. This really surprised me, especially in a country with a high HIV/AIDS rate. Patients’ families must bring in their food, which I had to smell when the lady next to me received her visitor. I survived the ordeal and am feeling much better. They took good care of me, and I saw my doctor about 8 times in that 8 hours.
As I type this, I am counting the weeks until I return home. I have 4 weeks from today of classes left, and will be home in 4.5 weeks. I am not anxious to leave behind the Zambian people or the friends I have made. I wish I could bring all of you here. Since I can’t, however, I am looking forward to being home. See you soon.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Monday, March 2, 2009
No internet
I am paying by the minute so this is just a notice not to worry about lack of info. Hopefully, I will be back to posting soon.
Miss you all so very much.
Me
Miss you all so very much.
Me
Monday, February 16, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
The Other Side of Life in Zambia
Just when I thought all the talk of the runs sickness was blown out of proportion, it hit. I guess being in another country for over a month and not getting sick is a blessing, but it is terrible to not be home and be miserable. I was in the corn fields learning to hoe a garden using a hoe that has a handle about the length of my arm when IT hit. I ran to the closest bathroom. I went back to the field and back to the nearest guest house. I gave up and walked to our guest house for the rest of the day. Our poor housekeeper, who I have come to love, was scared silly when I flew past her while she was sweeping. Did I mention the broom she uses is shorter than my arm?
Okay, so my first day in the cornfields was not a success, but I go back on Tuesday for a second chance. I also picked up a cold. I thought I brought every medicine known to man, but I didn't bring cough drops. Who would have thought that I would need cold medicine in the summer in Africa? :)
I did stay in the cornfields long enough to watch an amazing display of team work and skill. These women gather in great numbers. They only have about 6 tools between them. So the 6 will work and shortly they switch out and this repeats until all the rows are done. They must pile the dirt up as they hoe the ground so that the rains do not wash away the seeds. They toss that dirt as though it was nothing. Young and old bend over all day. Even if I had not been sick, I might have made it 30 minutes.
In case you still have misconceptions about reality here, let me be very specific. These people are not poor because they are lazy. I have never seen such hard work under such oppressive conditions. Well, time to go nurse my cold with ... water. Oh, I did find some peppermints in the bottom of my suitcase. Not sure, but I think I removed all the fuzz. Just kidding.
Miss everyone terribly,
Let the SonShine,
Melinda
Okay, so my first day in the cornfields was not a success, but I go back on Tuesday for a second chance. I also picked up a cold. I thought I brought every medicine known to man, but I didn't bring cough drops. Who would have thought that I would need cold medicine in the summer in Africa? :)
I did stay in the cornfields long enough to watch an amazing display of team work and skill. These women gather in great numbers. They only have about 6 tools between them. So the 6 will work and shortly they switch out and this repeats until all the rows are done. They must pile the dirt up as they hoe the ground so that the rains do not wash away the seeds. They toss that dirt as though it was nothing. Young and old bend over all day. Even if I had not been sick, I might have made it 30 minutes.
In case you still have misconceptions about reality here, let me be very specific. These people are not poor because they are lazy. I have never seen such hard work under such oppressive conditions. Well, time to go nurse my cold with ... water. Oh, I did find some peppermints in the bottom of my suitcase. Not sure, but I think I removed all the fuzz. Just kidding.
Miss everyone terribly,
Let the SonShine,
Melinda
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
What a Day!
Today I saw Africa the way it was meant to be seen. Not through windows of a Land Rover, but on the back of a motorbike. I arrived at the WHIZ office in a skirt prepared for a day of visiting schools. When the program director told Elijah and me that we would be taking the motorbikes I was thrilled. I walked fast to the guest house to change into “trousers” and tennis shoes. We had no riding pants, no mesh jackets, or boots. I did wear a long fleece jacket I brought with me, and we were provided helmets. I grabbed my sunglasses and lip gloss and was ready to roll.
We rode on dirt roads that looked like they had been bombed more than once. The first time we hit a dip going airborne, I was thrilled. There was no sissy bar, just a handle behind the back seat. I chose to place my hands on the waist of my driver, Paul. After all, he had the handlebars. He would be staying with the bike, and that sounded good to me.
The sky was a bright blue, and the clouds with their grey tummies looked low enough to touch. There were thick bushes with pink and orange flowers. Some of the bushes were a marriage of the two. Tall grass grew along the road and hit my knees when we rode the side tight to avoid a giant crater. Cows and bulls grazed on the side of the road, free from fences. At times we were so close I could have touched the tip of a horn. We shared the road with teams of oxen pulling wagons, women carrying large bags of corn meal on their heads, men taking the elderly to town on bicycles, and many children waving at the muguwa. This means white person. It is a title that brings excitement, not a racial commentary.
As we drew near the village schools the roads turned into narrow passages with occasional pools of water that had to be crossed. These men who visit schools every day to teach about abstinence and good choices have amazing riding skills. One of the motorbikes had a spark plug problem which left us in the middle of the bush for about an hour. We ate the peanut butter sandwiches I had prepared. It was a perfect meal in that tranquil setting. No one yelled, or worried about how late we would be. I prayed silently asking God to provide. A young man on a bicycle came our way and told our friends where a man lived who had a car. Perhaps he would have a spark plug. Claesha, the other rider, left on the good bike and came back with a tool that brought the machine to life again. Praise God.
While the bike was being worked on, the gentlemen let me drive one of the motorbikes down the dirt, gouged, sandy road for a short distance. It was more than I had hoped for. Unfortunately, while turning it around I killed the engine. Did I mention that the bike had to be “jump started?” I just couldn’t get it started. My left leg was too short for my right leg to jump hard enough to get it going. The guys came to my rescue and we were off again. We returned the tool to the man down the road. Of course we dismounted our new trusty transportation to greet him and be welcomed.
We visited two schools, and both had albino children. I wonder if there is something here that makes this more prevalent. As we drove into the schools the children would gather around to greet us. They do a little curtsey and put their left hand under their right forearm as a sign of respect to elders as they shake hands. It is a beautiful greeting. Then we greet each adult we meet, complete with introductions. No one is in a hurry to get down to business. It is that way everywhere we go. Paul and Claesha explained the program, and it was eagerly received. We will return on Thursday to meet the students and begin the program.
We finished the day by visiting a secondary school (high school) with the Reach 4 Life team. Henry, the staff member responsible for Reach 4 Life, had me speak to each class. When I spoke to the 11th graders they told me that they were studying sexuality. I asked them to tell me one thing they had learned in today’s lesson. One young man said, “Sex is bad.” I said, “In marriage?” He said, “No, before marriage.” We laughed and then I told them that sex outside of marriage is hurtful, but sex in marriage was wonderful. They giggled. I told them that Mike and I had been married for 26 years, and the girls smiled bigger and some clapped. I asked if they wanted to spend their whole lives with the same wonderful person, and they all said yes. I told them to complete their Reach 4 Life program, and do what it says so their dreams are more likely to come true. It was so wonderful to talk to them. I hope I get to do that again.
We rode home where I took 3 Tylenol for all the parts of my body that didn’t enjoy the ride as much as I did.
Love to all,
Let the SonShine,
Melinda
We rode on dirt roads that looked like they had been bombed more than once. The first time we hit a dip going airborne, I was thrilled. There was no sissy bar, just a handle behind the back seat. I chose to place my hands on the waist of my driver, Paul. After all, he had the handlebars. He would be staying with the bike, and that sounded good to me.
The sky was a bright blue, and the clouds with their grey tummies looked low enough to touch. There were thick bushes with pink and orange flowers. Some of the bushes were a marriage of the two. Tall grass grew along the road and hit my knees when we rode the side tight to avoid a giant crater. Cows and bulls grazed on the side of the road, free from fences. At times we were so close I could have touched the tip of a horn. We shared the road with teams of oxen pulling wagons, women carrying large bags of corn meal on their heads, men taking the elderly to town on bicycles, and many children waving at the muguwa. This means white person. It is a title that brings excitement, not a racial commentary.
As we drew near the village schools the roads turned into narrow passages with occasional pools of water that had to be crossed. These men who visit schools every day to teach about abstinence and good choices have amazing riding skills. One of the motorbikes had a spark plug problem which left us in the middle of the bush for about an hour. We ate the peanut butter sandwiches I had prepared. It was a perfect meal in that tranquil setting. No one yelled, or worried about how late we would be. I prayed silently asking God to provide. A young man on a bicycle came our way and told our friends where a man lived who had a car. Perhaps he would have a spark plug. Claesha, the other rider, left on the good bike and came back with a tool that brought the machine to life again. Praise God.
While the bike was being worked on, the gentlemen let me drive one of the motorbikes down the dirt, gouged, sandy road for a short distance. It was more than I had hoped for. Unfortunately, while turning it around I killed the engine. Did I mention that the bike had to be “jump started?” I just couldn’t get it started. My left leg was too short for my right leg to jump hard enough to get it going. The guys came to my rescue and we were off again. We returned the tool to the man down the road. Of course we dismounted our new trusty transportation to greet him and be welcomed.
We visited two schools, and both had albino children. I wonder if there is something here that makes this more prevalent. As we drove into the schools the children would gather around to greet us. They do a little curtsey and put their left hand under their right forearm as a sign of respect to elders as they shake hands. It is a beautiful greeting. Then we greet each adult we meet, complete with introductions. No one is in a hurry to get down to business. It is that way everywhere we go. Paul and Claesha explained the program, and it was eagerly received. We will return on Thursday to meet the students and begin the program.
We finished the day by visiting a secondary school (high school) with the Reach 4 Life team. Henry, the staff member responsible for Reach 4 Life, had me speak to each class. When I spoke to the 11th graders they told me that they were studying sexuality. I asked them to tell me one thing they had learned in today’s lesson. One young man said, “Sex is bad.” I said, “In marriage?” He said, “No, before marriage.” We laughed and then I told them that sex outside of marriage is hurtful, but sex in marriage was wonderful. They giggled. I told them that Mike and I had been married for 26 years, and the girls smiled bigger and some clapped. I asked if they wanted to spend their whole lives with the same wonderful person, and they all said yes. I told them to complete their Reach 4 Life program, and do what it says so their dreams are more likely to come true. It was so wonderful to talk to them. I hope I get to do that again.
We rode home where I took 3 Tylenol for all the parts of my body that didn’t enjoy the ride as much as I did.
Love to all,
Let the SonShine,
Melinda
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Zambia Children and Education (sort of)
In America school attendance is a right. If parents do not educate their children they can be prosecuted or have their children placed in the care of the state. In Zambia, however, there are no such rights. While education is free, parents must pay for a uniform and supplies. If you are making a dollar a day, this may be impossible. Parents are forced to choose between starvation and education.
This week I worked with the Reach 4 Life team. It is a Christian abstinence program. It also teaches life skills, leadership, and skills in decision making. The staff train student leaders, chosen by the school, and they facilitate the meetings. Once the students graduate school and return to their villages, it is the hope that they will teach other children what they have learned. The goal is to have programs all over Zambia. This program is in government run schools as well as Christian schools. This program is run without U.S. Aid. The reason, as you might guess, is that our government will not allow funds to be used for this program because it has a Christian foundation. That means all support must be raised by private donors. They have more requests for the manuals the students use than they can provide for. With more funding there would be programs in the villages where many children do not go to school. The question I ask myself is why would our government care when the government here does not care? Young people in Zambia have HIV/AIDS at an alarming and unbelievable rate.
I met a group of Reach 4 Life Ambassadors. These are young adults who have completed their education and the program and are now mentoring the next group of student leaders. I asked them what their hopes and dreams are, for not every Zambian youth has hopes beyond providing basic needs. Each of the twelve young people had a dream. One wanted to be a pastor, one a nurse, one an accountant, one to see the end of AIDS in his life time, and the list goes on. When I asked what they were doing to reach those dreams, only a few could answer. Very few children go on to college or a university. In an area where girls routinely get engaged or married at the age of 15 or 16, not one of these students was married, engaged, or had children. This program is helping them believe they can have more in life than waiting for the HIV virus to destroy them. Is it fair for us to give them a dream and not give them a way to realize it? Is it possible, that as I type this, the illusive cure for AIDS is in the mind of a student sitting in a Reach 4 Life meeting right here in Zambia?
I will end this entry with a common story in Zambia. Many girls who desperately want to go to school, but do not have the money will often sell themselves to earn enough to attend. They will have a “sugar daddy.” We laugh about this phrase in the U.S. but it is not funny here. I read a testimony from one student who had been raped at a very young age. She felt worthless and condemned to a life of prostitution. She made enough to attend school and began the Reach 4 Life program. They taught her the concept of 2nd virginity, a vow to keep sex from this point on until marriage. She was given hope in Christ that she was important to Him and that her life mattered.
Children should never have to sell their bodies to have the opportunity to attend school. I could not help contrast this reality with ours in America. I have spent eighteen years working with young people who cannot wait until they get out of high school. Many of them do not even finish their education. My first thought was to bring all my foster children to Zambia for a few months. This almost caused me to smile thinking of our girls surviving here with so little. Then my second thought hit me with a sobering force. Our children have also been sold, and they have sold themselves. Every time a judge sends them home before they graduate, where failure is almost certain, we have sold them to a life lived out in poverty and despair. When over half of the girls get pregnant with in one year of leaving state custody, they have sold themselves for free. When we fail to help them dream, we have invited them to continue the same cycle of abuse and poverty that put them in the care of the state to begin with. We tell an 18 year old good luck, hope you make it, and when they fail we point at them and say, “I knew you would.” It is the worst sell of human potential, and we do not accept responsibility for it.
It is so easy to come to Zambia and see the suffering and great needs. It is every where I turn. It is ugly and so big you can not hide from it. You can not pretend it doesn’t exist. I wonder, however, how many times we have been willing to send a donation to another country, but ignore the suffering in our own cities or even the needs of our neighbors. Do we offer hospitality to those who are different than us? Don’t get me wrong, we need to give our money, but we also need to give of ourselves. The Bible is clear in both the Old and New Testament. If we do not take care of the poor, widows, and orphans, He does not honor our offerings.
On a lighter note:
I am eating puppy chow one of the girls on the team made. It is made with corn flakes. In Zambia, you use what you have. It isn’t bad. It’s a little chewy. We have also discovered a new level of cleanliness. Laundry takes so long to do that we measure if something is appropriate to wear, not by how many times it has been worn, but by how bad it smells. We have also grown accustom to Cheech and Chong, our roaches who live in the kitchen.
Last night the power went out all around us. This happens often, but usually during the day. We were right in the middle of prayer. We got candles, finished our prayer time and then headed outside. The sky was blazing with stars. I have never seen so many. I guess the great thing about being the “dark continent” is that you can see so many stars. We girls had girls only time. We spread blankets under the stars in the yard and talked about things that girls talk about, like marriage. We saw a few shooting stars too. I have said many times, “Never miss an opportunity to look at the stars.” Until the lights came on, I was having so much fun. I was not 46 years old and they were not 20 years old. We were just women spending time together. Of course the romance of the evening was clouded this morning when I woke up with bug bites on my arms and legs, and even one down my shirt. It seems that the bugs live in the grass and they appear to have been hungry last night.
I still have not seen a snake, a fact I thank God for on a regular basis. One last thing, I was in Livingstone this week with the Reach 4 Life staff. We stopped to have lunch and I ate at Subway. I was so excited at the thought of having a vegetarian sandwich, all those green vegetables that I have missed. Let’s just say eating Subway in Zambia is a little different than in America. My team member that was with me was brave enough to eat caterpillars, a great source of protein in parts of Zambia. That was just gross to watch.
Let the SonShine,
Melinda
This week I worked with the Reach 4 Life team. It is a Christian abstinence program. It also teaches life skills, leadership, and skills in decision making. The staff train student leaders, chosen by the school, and they facilitate the meetings. Once the students graduate school and return to their villages, it is the hope that they will teach other children what they have learned. The goal is to have programs all over Zambia. This program is in government run schools as well as Christian schools. This program is run without U.S. Aid. The reason, as you might guess, is that our government will not allow funds to be used for this program because it has a Christian foundation. That means all support must be raised by private donors. They have more requests for the manuals the students use than they can provide for. With more funding there would be programs in the villages where many children do not go to school. The question I ask myself is why would our government care when the government here does not care? Young people in Zambia have HIV/AIDS at an alarming and unbelievable rate.
I met a group of Reach 4 Life Ambassadors. These are young adults who have completed their education and the program and are now mentoring the next group of student leaders. I asked them what their hopes and dreams are, for not every Zambian youth has hopes beyond providing basic needs. Each of the twelve young people had a dream. One wanted to be a pastor, one a nurse, one an accountant, one to see the end of AIDS in his life time, and the list goes on. When I asked what they were doing to reach those dreams, only a few could answer. Very few children go on to college or a university. In an area where girls routinely get engaged or married at the age of 15 or 16, not one of these students was married, engaged, or had children. This program is helping them believe they can have more in life than waiting for the HIV virus to destroy them. Is it fair for us to give them a dream and not give them a way to realize it? Is it possible, that as I type this, the illusive cure for AIDS is in the mind of a student sitting in a Reach 4 Life meeting right here in Zambia?
I will end this entry with a common story in Zambia. Many girls who desperately want to go to school, but do not have the money will often sell themselves to earn enough to attend. They will have a “sugar daddy.” We laugh about this phrase in the U.S. but it is not funny here. I read a testimony from one student who had been raped at a very young age. She felt worthless and condemned to a life of prostitution. She made enough to attend school and began the Reach 4 Life program. They taught her the concept of 2nd virginity, a vow to keep sex from this point on until marriage. She was given hope in Christ that she was important to Him and that her life mattered.
Children should never have to sell their bodies to have the opportunity to attend school. I could not help contrast this reality with ours in America. I have spent eighteen years working with young people who cannot wait until they get out of high school. Many of them do not even finish their education. My first thought was to bring all my foster children to Zambia for a few months. This almost caused me to smile thinking of our girls surviving here with so little. Then my second thought hit me with a sobering force. Our children have also been sold, and they have sold themselves. Every time a judge sends them home before they graduate, where failure is almost certain, we have sold them to a life lived out in poverty and despair. When over half of the girls get pregnant with in one year of leaving state custody, they have sold themselves for free. When we fail to help them dream, we have invited them to continue the same cycle of abuse and poverty that put them in the care of the state to begin with. We tell an 18 year old good luck, hope you make it, and when they fail we point at them and say, “I knew you would.” It is the worst sell of human potential, and we do not accept responsibility for it.
It is so easy to come to Zambia and see the suffering and great needs. It is every where I turn. It is ugly and so big you can not hide from it. You can not pretend it doesn’t exist. I wonder, however, how many times we have been willing to send a donation to another country, but ignore the suffering in our own cities or even the needs of our neighbors. Do we offer hospitality to those who are different than us? Don’t get me wrong, we need to give our money, but we also need to give of ourselves. The Bible is clear in both the Old and New Testament. If we do not take care of the poor, widows, and orphans, He does not honor our offerings.
On a lighter note:
I am eating puppy chow one of the girls on the team made. It is made with corn flakes. In Zambia, you use what you have. It isn’t bad. It’s a little chewy. We have also discovered a new level of cleanliness. Laundry takes so long to do that we measure if something is appropriate to wear, not by how many times it has been worn, but by how bad it smells. We have also grown accustom to Cheech and Chong, our roaches who live in the kitchen.
Last night the power went out all around us. This happens often, but usually during the day. We were right in the middle of prayer. We got candles, finished our prayer time and then headed outside. The sky was blazing with stars. I have never seen so many. I guess the great thing about being the “dark continent” is that you can see so many stars. We girls had girls only time. We spread blankets under the stars in the yard and talked about things that girls talk about, like marriage. We saw a few shooting stars too. I have said many times, “Never miss an opportunity to look at the stars.” Until the lights came on, I was having so much fun. I was not 46 years old and they were not 20 years old. We were just women spending time together. Of course the romance of the evening was clouded this morning when I woke up with bug bites on my arms and legs, and even one down my shirt. It seems that the bugs live in the grass and they appear to have been hungry last night.
I still have not seen a snake, a fact I thank God for on a regular basis. One last thing, I was in Livingstone this week with the Reach 4 Life staff. We stopped to have lunch and I ate at Subway. I was so excited at the thought of having a vegetarian sandwich, all those green vegetables that I have missed. Let’s just say eating Subway in Zambia is a little different than in America. My team member that was with me was brave enough to eat caterpillars, a great source of protein in parts of Zambia. That was just gross to watch.
Let the SonShine,
Melinda
Monday, January 26, 2009
Quiet Moments
Friday we worked at the new WHIZ office and guest house that is being built so teams will have a place to stay. It was fun to meet some of the construction workers. They are building this beautiful and large facility with all hand tools. It is amazing to see. They are very talented. It would frustrate you men in moments. They can't just run down to the Lowe's and pick up supplies either.
We spent the rest of the weekend either studying, doing laundry by hand, or going to church. Today is a catch up day for all our work and I decided to start the day emailing Mike, who I miss more than I have words for. I miss being able to call my son and daughter anytime I want. I know contact would be minimum, but had no idea how hard that would be. Last night I couldn't get on the internet, which I had not been on for a few days, and I walked home crying. It was pouring rain. The water was seeping up my long skirt, and I didn't care. It matched my mood. Today, I had internet and could read email from Mike and all the posts from you, and I felt much better. Thank you for taking the time to leave comments. They mean so much to me. Miss you all.
Let the SonShine,
Melinda
We spent the rest of the weekend either studying, doing laundry by hand, or going to church. Today is a catch up day for all our work and I decided to start the day emailing Mike, who I miss more than I have words for. I miss being able to call my son and daughter anytime I want. I know contact would be minimum, but had no idea how hard that would be. Last night I couldn't get on the internet, which I had not been on for a few days, and I walked home crying. It was pouring rain. The water was seeping up my long skirt, and I didn't care. It matched my mood. Today, I had internet and could read email from Mike and all the posts from you, and I felt much better. Thank you for taking the time to leave comments. They mean so much to me. Miss you all.
Let the SonShine,
Melinda
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