Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Church Service Reflection- Emma Parkinson

            The original speech that was to be given by Emma Parkinson on July 28, 2013. The actual given speech was slightly different.  

              My name is Emma Parkinson and I am going to be a junior at Woodlands Academy this fall. My life is progressing faster than I would like it to, and often times I feel like I am being left behind. Yet 10 days in a different world can shift your perspective on things.
 Reflecting on my time in Uganda us like trying to pack a suitcase. There are so many things to think about and I get all jumbled when I try to pick out what I want to tell people. So please forgive me if this seems unorganized.
            Not all of the red dirt is out of my KidsUganda shirt. In fact, I hope that it never comes out. If you’ve ever been to Uganda, you know how eerily beautiful the country is. The colors are so vibrant and this red dust is everywhere. The people are just as vibrant as the colors around them.
 I do not think that there is any way to prepare yourself before going to Uganda or any country like it for the poverty that you will see. I was often taken by the remoteness and simplicity of many of the square structures made of mud and trees. The children that we met at the Maranatha schools were as happy as possible when we saw them each day, but I could not help but wonder if they ever smiled at home, and that made me horribly sad.
I wish I could tell you about a more specific memory that I have from Uganda that affected me more than all of the others. But, the truth is, I do not value any moment from out trip more than another. There is nothing that I regret or that I wish did not happen. Every single time we were able to talk and play with the children was as amazing as the next, and I will never get tired of remembering their smiling faces. Just like the KidsUganda phrase, “Every child is precious,” to me, every memory of the children and everything we did with them is precious.
A lesson I learned in Uganda is something that I have always had a hard time explaining. Unconditional love. But what does that really mean? After thinking about it for a very long time, I still cannot articulate what it means to me. I can only explain it as what I feel after coming home from Uganda. It is when a children comes up to you and grabs your hand like a lifeline, and says that they missed you yesterday.  It is 16 people, and our bus driver, sitting on a bus singing anything and everything as loud as they possibly can. It is the determination to brave a bumpy bus ride and see some smiling faces even when you were violently ill not an hour before. The only way to explain it is to say that unconditional love is what I feel for all of the children and all of the people who came with me.
Everyday, I look through some photos from our journey. I see how we became less tense around each other, and how eager we became around the children. I see us talking to people who we had never talked to before, and enjoying every second of our crazy bus rides. I see children who are so incredibly grateful for our off-key songs and sweaty hands. Everyday, I miss Uganda a little bit more. Just like that red dirt still staining the collar of my KidsUganda shirt, those children and their smiles, and my very own trip companions that I can now call friends, will never leave my heart.  


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