My heart has already flown to Kenya. Unbeknownst to me it's been taking a 7,385 mile trek throughout the past year and plans on meeting me there this Fall. In less than 50 days I'll be sitting on a plane (clenching the arm rests in complete anxiety ridden terror...or drugged and happy) counting down the hours till my feet hit the dirt of Litien, Kenya. It's crazy and surreal to me. I want to think I'll greet Kenya with children smothering hugs and forehead kisses but I know myself, I'll be in shock. Culture shock, because no matter how many pictures you see, articles you read, documentaries you watch; having your feet hit that dirt, touch those kids, it's not real till then. And then, is reality too much?
I'm hoping it's not. I'm hoping my "A-Type, came here to do a job, on a mission, let's karate chop these projects posthaste side" kicks in. It may; or maybe my hippie side will saunter in and I'll just dangle my hair in front of little girls who want to braid it. Hmmmm, I'm good with either, I think. Besides, PL would prefer the break...
So here's where we're at, 50 days to go. Vaccines to procure, items to buy, suitcases to stuff and a minimum of $2,000 to raise. Letters mailed and now a fundraising page is up. I feel slightly awkward trying to raise support. I spent 5 years "teaching" others how to fundraise. I enjoyed it, really I did. But being on the other side is weird. So give me grace if your mailbox is rocked with a long letter. Give me grace when you see this blog light up with ramblings on our trip. Extend even more grace if you find yourself looking at one more status update on Facebook linked to our fundraising page. I claim ex-fundraising professional syndrome. I just can't help myself but to inundate you with my cause. I know no better.
And just so you can understand why, just why my heart is calling from Kenya, you can ruminate on their beautiful faces and begin the long questioning of why, what if, how. I don't need to form them for you. They'll probably just come on their own.