I wonder if you remember the scene in ‘The Notebook,’ where Noah’s alzheimer’ed wife “wakes-up” for just a few short minutes? I had a professor last semester who compared this awakening to God’s pursuit of us. He explained how we’re dementia-laden most hours of our life, but it’s these short moments of awakening that make everything else worth it. I had one of those moments today, and wanted to stay in it forever.

I was cuddling with Adam all morning and he was beyond adorable. I took him swinging, and then we played in the grass and laughed at each other puffing-out our cheeks (oh…and alongside his big brown-eyes…). We played “Airplane” with his banana and avocado lunch, goofed-off a little more, and then both crashed—me on my back and him facedown on my stomach. It was at this point my dementia returned. Mama Lois walked in with his morning blood results.

Adam has Tuberculosis.

At that point I was just sad, but as the day has progressed and the news internalized, I’ve gotten angry. “God, could you please give this kid a break? Worms, Pneumonia, Flu Pneumonia again and now TB, on top of HIV!? He’s six months old. What are you doing? Is this some kind of sick joke? You knew this was going to be his prognosis all along, so why did you even make him? Why did you let him be born? What is the point of his life? Adam was born with a death sentence. Well I guess we all were, but he was born with an earlier one. What joy is in that? What life? Was he born for me—so that I could experience a morning of aliveness on his behalf? If so, that’s ludicrous. Or maybe it was him that was alive this morning? But what about babies who don’t even get that? Uhh, I’d rather work through this before bed, Lord, but You’ve set me off too much this time. Not like You don’t already know my thoughts here, but just so You hear them loud and clear, I’m mad at You right now. Really confused and really mad.”

***
Losing to Gain.

Control always strikes me as one of the most bizarre and paradoxical notions of our make-up. If we believe in a God, let alone a God who would create us, what makes us get-off thinking ‘we’ are in control of anything, be it our success, failure, future, facial features, prognosis, or last breath? At most points in my life I would’ve been way too addicted to any number of things to attempt a summer like this. Whether it was my body (wouldn’t have allowed this duration without “working-out”…or what if I gain weight? African women notoriously carry more weight…in fact, it’s rare to see a “thin” woman by American standards), food-choices (what if they make me eat stuff I’m not used to, or don’t like, or isn’t good for me??…), beliefs, progress, health, soy-lattes, schedule…I was way too addicted to my self to pull away from ‘my’ terms and conditions for living. Anyway, not many more thoughts here—just encouraged that God is slowly loosening some of my control issues. He’s slowly teaching me to lose control, in order to actually gain it, I think.

***
Random.

*Props to Celene Dion. She gets played at every function, from funerals and weddings, to every day festivities. President Museveni was in Jinja today to kick-off an environmental campaign and low and behold, she opened and closed the event.

*Mama Lucy and I were changing Isaiah today (the 4lb’er) and making fun of his small/absent “cobena.” He’s the smallest, cutest, most butt-less boy I’ve ever seen. Anyway, I think he heard us. As we were laughing at him, lifting his bony legs in the air, he pooped. And then peed. We cracked-up.

*The bank teller asked me what disease I had. I wasn’t clear on his question, so asked him to clarify. He started pointing to my arms, and then face…“All the spots on you, what is that?” “Oh, I laughed. Freckles. It’s okay, they just come from the sun.” “Terrible,” he said, with a distraught look on his face, “how long will the disease last?” “It’s not a disease,” I said, “I’ve had them since I was young and they’ll be with me forever. “Oh my,” he said, “such tragedy. I hope you will be okay.” I realized at this point my explanations were irrelevant, so thanked him for my cash and headed outside with my disease.

*I received a telegram at the Baby Home today essentially requesting my hand in marriage. It was from a guy I apparently “met on the street last Sunday.” I have no recollection of this meeting, but it’s given us all a good laugh. I’m telling you, the guys here are nuts and so determined to get to America.