Snapshot of a Memory: # 9
I found a couple of good things about twisting my ankle on a group trip - I not only get the best seat on the bus, but I could be the first one off at times. This was one of those times.
Every greeting from a project was different, yet deliberate. This one was not. As we approached our last project, only a few children were visible near the road. But when we stopped at the project, hundreds of children ran to us from all directions like locusts flying to crops. They were simply glad we were there. Their joy superceded their formality for visitors.
As I climbed out of the bus, I was literally swarmed by smiling faces. (This is part of my trip I had dreamed of for months prior to my trip). With my arms stretched out, I roughly had 30 kids holding on to me. They began chanting something in their tribal language. It had such a nice rhythm, I started jumping to it (I know - with a bummed foot - I was jumping on one leg, ok?). Before long, the children and I were jumping in unison.
In that brief moment, I was alone in Uganda with my new friends.
Compassion trips change perspectives of life and love.
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