walking

This week has been a bit frustrating. You kind of get tired of explaining yourself. Of not knowing where things are. You miss talking to people who really know you. Who know your weaknesses and strengths. Who trust you and value your opinions.

Coming to live on a ship I have lost control over most things. I can’t drive. I can’t control when or what I eat. I don’t choose who I live with. I must sign up for my hour a week laundry slot. Showers must be less than two minutes. There is always a meeting I am suppose to be at. I can’t meander the streets of Liberia alone.

Human nature is so human. In one moment your are standing in awe of the fact that you are a part of the restoration process of a deeply suffering women, the next you are annoyed because it will be another night eating peanut butter and bread.

Yesterday, I went for a jog along the port. As I jogged toward the ship a girl was walking towards the gate. She held two small crutches. Her legs were completely bent to the left so that her body made the shape of an “S”. Each movement was a four part series. First her right arm extended foward, followed by a downward slinking of her body to the right. Then her left arm advanced, from which movement would trickle down her legs to the left and finally a step was taken. One small step.
I passed her three times during my jog.

This morning I thought about what it meant for her to come to the Africa Mercy. Sit was a long, slow, and arduous process. I just walked on. It put’s things in perspective.

While ship life has it’s challenges you kind of lose your frustrations when you look around. Having to walk two miles with completely bent legs and small crutches in the afternoon is much more frustrating than having to wait to use the dryer.

As I jogged past the crippled girl she lifted her face from her efforts and flashed me a huge, genuine, beautiful smile. Me on my two working legs.