I have been traveling all day. Quiet and contemplative. I pride myself on my transparency and that’s just what I intend to be…transparent. I have had a feeling of uncertainty surrounding this trip to Congo. I can feel the support and prayers sent to me from around the world. With this kind of support one would think I would feel lifted/rejuvenation, instead I can feel the rock of doubt resting firmly in my ribcage. I thought it was the loss of Daniel. The loss of the new baby. That I was afraid to return to a country that has claimed so many of my children. That I couldn’t bare the loss again. I believe the latter is the case. Don’t misunderstand me…the loss of a child is gut wrenching, cry until your lungs beg for mercy, feel your self retreat into a dusty unused corner of your mind and crouch in the shadows. You find yourself longing for the sun only to realize it doesn’t warm your face the way it used to. This has been my reality. My heart has been not only broken, it’s been crushed. Not only for the children who would have been “mine” bur for all the children who are OURS! Wren, Emery, Merriville, Daniel and Gaston are the faces, my personal reminders of a human race epidemic that we all hold the vaccine for. Africa is many wonderful things, but it is also something else..depressing. Yes I said it. The extreme poverty, the street children, the starving, the orphans. There is something that arises in all of us when faced with horror of that magnitude…fear! That uncomfortable feeling in the pit of our stomachs whenever someone mentions grief, loss or tragedy. We want to turn away, pretend it isn’t there…buy a purse, get your nails done, watch some T.V., surf the internet for trivial information on the shocking fact that Kim Kardashian is pregnant…..and you know what? I want to do those things too. I want to curl up in my bed at the end of the day and read a book while my children sleep peacefully in the next room. I want to turn away. I don’t want to get on a plane. To travel for two days with no sleep. To arrive in a country that I can’t master the language and hand out cans of formula that won’t feed enough children. To stand for photo-ops like some chump who things they can make a difference, but is actually just standing in a burning forest with an eye dropper. Knowing that I couldn’t even save my own children. But I will do just that. Get on the plane. Fly to a country I can’t fix. Bring the formula. Love on the children and pray that in some way, what I do will make a difference. I will do all of this with the rock in my chest and the doubt in my mind. I will be overwhelmed. I will cry. I will miss my family. I will feel more alone that I have ever felt. But I will…..would you?