I don't know who Sarah Pollack is, or what she has done in Africa. Yet what Africa has done for her -- that's the message that clearly came through.
"I carry a bit of Africa in my heart and in my arms...There is a part of me that will always remain scattered amongst the acacia trees..."
Years from now, I can't help but wonder, where will parts of me be scattered?
Read her blog post/story.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Starting

How do I start?
I started a family with a trip to the humane society.
I started my first ski hill with a prayer and a wave of panic.
I start diets by deleting the number to Joey Nova's pizza from my cell phone.
My broken heart for the homeless started when I gave tubes of Vaseline to men with cracked, bleeding feet on a cold January night in Boston.
I started my love for reading with a public library card.
I started Girl Scouts thinking none of the girls would want to be my friend.
I started twenty years of debt with a college public speaking course in a windowless, basement classroom at 8:00 a.m.
I start communion with confession, I start confession with "I'm sorry" and the actions for which "I'm sorry" are typically started with a compromise.
I start my day with the snooze button. Always.
My deepest healing has started with a laugh.
I start the speech with the promise to not drop the "it's not you, it's me" line.
I start my public transit rides with a hearty hello to the bus driver, even if he grimaces back at my perkiness.
But the funny thing is, when I start writing again, it never actually feels like a new "start" to me. It feels like I'm returning home.
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