surrounded by beauty

Africa is beautiful. And it is ugly.

When most people think of Africa, they think of nature and of wild animals. They think of dense jungles and sprawling savanahs. Of glittering dessert sands and exotic beaches. But that is not the Africa that is our lives. We live in a small city overflowing with millions of people without running water and sewage systems. It seemse every bit of usable space is covered in either concrete, mud, or garbage. Alleys and backyarads are overrun with rodents.

In a space that used to be a park accross the street from our apartment, piles of garbage heap up every day. Scavenger birds quarrel endlessly with stray dogs over bits of rotting food. Street children and drifters sort for pieces of usable trash. The stench of feces and urine is often overwhelming because with a lack of public restrooms, the overgrown grass in the "park" has become the place people use to relieve themselves while in town.

(Just the other day, as my children and I playing on the front porch, one of them shouted out, "Look mom all of those children just pulled up their skirts and...." SHEESH! African cultural lesson #1, my children, It is YOUR job not to look; not theirs to protect privacy.)

It is hard to describe, though, long-term what a lack of beauty does to a person. How despairing it can be day after day to only see cement and garbage, man-made buildings and iron bars. How you just long to run your feet accross a green lawn. Or drink in the simple smell of a flower. Or stand so small against a great cliff. I know this because although I'm just at the beginning of my time here again, I remember how this little longing for beauty eventually becomes a desperate need.

And I'm thinking, "How am I going to do this again?"

And my God, who knows my every need, brought my toddling baby to clench at my skirt. I swung her up and watched her giggle delightedly. I did it again. And watched as her belly rolled up and down with laughter. Her little face flushed. Her heart beat. Her eyes sparkled. And my breath caught as realized I was gazing at beauty.

I looked over at my sons battling with Legos on the kitchen table. Bare chested little men with sweaty hair and stern expressions. Perfectly dirty feet. Strong arms. A mischevios grin spread across the face of my four year old and I saw beauty.

I thought of my sweet little girl lying sprawled on her bed for her afternoon nap. The fan blowing her hair softly on her peaceful little face--quiet and still for those few moments of rest--rest from climbing the railing on the porch, from running away screeching with the toy she stole from baby sister, from keeping up with her big boys...rest from challenging everything and all of her little two-year old life each day. Beauty.

I am surrounded by beauty.