|"I had a farm in Africa, at the foot of the Ngong Hills." (Out of Africa)|
I must admit, by Friday afternoon I felt immensely whiny. I know— how could I, after the intense suffering I witnessed all week? I gave this challenging quip a brief nod, and quickly moved on. Remember, I am a work in progress; therefore, I gave my inner brat the floor.
The diatribe my inner brat spewed was incessant well into Friday evening. Exhausted, I fell into bed while she continued to rattle on and on. I really wanted her to shut-up. But just when I thought she had worn herself out, I heard her whisper in my ear, "Hey sister, how about a glass of wine. Good for the soul, huh?"
"What a marvelous idea," I chirped—a crisp sauvignon blanc or a smooth pinot noir! We drank the words in our mouth with silent, delightful ruminations. However, my reverie was quickly broken when my brat raised her head screaming "and where, pray tell, are you going to find wine in this holy place you have us in?"
Yes, I was emotionally and physically exhausted. The walk to and from the hospital every day is 40 minutes each way, a harrowing experience for a woman used to orderly drivers, stop lights with pedestrian flashers indicating who has the right of way, and drivers that, for the most part, obey the laws; for example, stopping when the light is red. The traffic in Nairobi is frenetic at best, outrageously aggressive and disorderly, making the morning and evening jaunt a harrowing experience. In fact, many busy intersections have no traffic lights. Cars—helter-skelter, make crossing any intersection like playing Russian roulette in a game of truth or dare. The locals have it down pat. Unflinching, they step out on to the road, weaving and dodging between cars. Poor Sister Rose, I cling to her like a terrified child. If it is my time to meet my maker, I want to be clinging to a woman who has a free pass to the kingdom! In fact, her relationship with God is so personal that this holy woman has been known to unabashedly give God a few instructions.
You get the point. We all have these moment.
I have thought long and hard about the time I allowed my inner brat to vent. There is a tension that rolls between, "I want to whine," and, "what the hell do I have to whine about?" It is a guilt trip of epic energy. But, thankfully I found this:
Thank you Dr. Keryl McBride! (