The Path Not Taken

On Friday night I drove to a little cafe in Stonewall to meet Oria Dale. She`s currently in Zimbabwe (an has been for quite some time) working as a photographer & missionary. I thought it would be cool to pick up my friend who lives in Stonewall and we could sit in the coffee shop, looking at the beautiful pictures and catching up. What I didn`t expect was the churning up of those old feelings inside. Soon after we got there, this beautiful woman with her dreadlocks pulled up in a scarf making her look like the artist she is, stood up and began talking about what`s going on in Zimbabwe, and what she and some other artists are striving towards. She is a part of Artisan ("a creative network for people grappling with issues of Christianity within the arts"), where she and a friend brought this international network to Zimbabwe. She is also part of 24-7 Prayer where from time to time it looks like she posts updates.

Although what she`s doing sounds wonderful and amazing, that`s not the reason for this post. When she was talking about Zimbabwe and the people and conditions there, I felt a familiar feeling that I haven`t felt in a long time. When I was in nursing school my plan was to go to Uganda after I graduated. I pictured myself there helping the orphans of the AIDS epidemic. I studied the spread of AIDS throughout the regions and wrote papers on it. I took courses like "Death in the Family" trying to prepare myself for helping these children who only knew loss. When Bruce and I started dating I told him one day that I was planning on going to Africa when I graduated and I wasn`t going to let our relationship interfere with those plans.

My Stonewall friend went to nursing school with me, and when Oria was finished talking she turned to me and said she had a strange feeling, flashing back to nursing school, because it could have been me up there talking.
And although I argued that the dreadlocks wouldn`t have looked nearly as good on me, she was right. It could have been me coming back from doing something wonderful for God in Africa. And part of me feels that it SHOULD have been me.

But obviously I never made it. I took the easy road. Life here was so comfortable, I`ve never left the continent, all my family was here...and there was Bruce. The person I loved most, and he loved me too. How could I leave all this? Truthfully going there terrified me, and as graduation drew near, I made the excuses that I didn`t know how I would get set up there, that I didn`t know of any organizations that fit for me to go over as both a nurse and a missionary to help these kids, but the truth was, I didn`t look very hard. The next excuse I found was that I had no experience and it would be better to work a year or two first. After that I saw the aboriginal children right here in Canada who need love and thought Ì don`t have to travel to the other side of the world to help children when there are so many here who need help. And I had managed to convince myself.

Now a decade later I sit at my computer in my comfortable house with reliable electricity and running water, and I worry that I`ve missed out on something really big. I feel that I`ve failed. I love my job and feel fulfilled when I`m able to help, but I`m stunted in sharing my faith and resort to praying for babies and sleeping children when no one`s around. The hard days when a child is dying and the family is trying to come to grips with the fact that there is no hope, those are the days when I cry all the way home, but love my job the most. It sounds sick writing that, but I feel like I`m doing what I was made to do when I have days like that. And I think that`s how I would feel in Africa. And it makes me question if the life I`m leading is what God wanted, or if the other path was what was meant for me. I looked at Oria, two years younger than me, doing wonderful things with people she has made her friends, and I look at my husband and my children and think that I wouldn`t have them if I were in Uganda or Zimbabwe. Growing up, the biggest desire of my heart was to get married and have children. And I have to think that it seems to me that I couldn`t have this life had I not chickened out.

Maybe one day I`ll still make it over there, maybe once the kids are grown Bruce and I could go together. I don`t know. But for now I guess I`ll stick to praying for Oria over there, and the children at my work here.