Standing Naked

As turbulence rasps and rattles around our plane, I lengthen each breath; loosen my shoulders, and allow myself to completely relax. Peace often feels like a choice. Unclenching my fists, I choose for the acid to drain from my stomach; I choose to stop striving. When life feels out of control, the only option that I have is to stop struggling and just be held.

The last ten days have been coated with chaos. Returning home for my aunt’s funeral brought the grating relief that I had spent six weeks aching for. However, I never expected that three days before I was due to fly; on my birthday, my closest childhood friend would also suffer a brain haemorrhage. Something inside me shattered. I clawed my way onto the plane, with two impossible realities leaving me leaden.

Allowing myself to emotionally crash in the UK, I discovered that as well as bringing home nits and a live cockroach, many of the symptoms of my exhaustion correlated with malaria. My GP sent me straight to “Accident and Emergency” for blood tests. Oozing gratitude for the NHS, I accepted the necessity to rebook my flight back to Dakar when the results were confirmed as negative.  

The occasions that claw at the centre of my being allow me to discover who I really am. Whilst grieving the loss of a woman who shaped, inspired and voraciously encouraged me, I had time to reflect upon her life and exude gratitude for the power of family.

Equally, the daily visits to my friend reinforced once again that illness can do nothing to graze friendship. Waiting with her: pouring joy over her; my hope and my optimism grew with each visit as I grieved and burbled and laughed.

Currently sitting in the airport, after having spent twenty-four hours in a Moroccan hotel due to flight delays, my life in Dakar suddenly feels less stable than before. I expect that in a few days’ time my home and my placement will look very different. Yet in all of this, the peace still remains. I have always felt that treating God like an optional extra is a complete waste of time. Right now, I can savour the waiting; savour the present and allow two am taxi negotiations to worry about themselves. Any attempts to control the future seem laughable. There is only gratitude for each new day; gratitude that loving completely also involves copious amounts of pain. Whatever the future brings, nothing intimidates God. My role is to take life one step at a time; one breath at a time and stop striving to be in control.