At the top of Pic D’Agou — image via:
I read through part of an old journal I wrote in 2002-2003 last night. My, much has changed since then–including my handwriting (for the better). I am glad I was such a faithful writer during those formative years of my life. It is really encouraging to see a shift in my philosophy resulting from age and experience. Here are some of my favorite entries:
April 24, 2003
“An unexplicable moment: Sitting 9,815 ft. in the air, flying over Nigeria on my way to Lome while listening to French Reggae…sitting next to Cara, anticipating the 83 degree weather, and having NO idea what will happen during the next two months of my life. Hmmm…scary if I really think about it, but I won’t. God is going to do more great things and I am dying to see what. How do you say “crazy” in French?”
April 25, 2003
“I love Africa. I love it. That’s all I can say. We went for a hike up the mountain here in Agou today. It was hot, sticky, and spider infested, but at the same time so wonderful. Everything seems so much more natural–from the food they eat to slepeing in hot rooms cooled only by the wind and rain. Time will tell how true my love for this place is.”
One thing that has not waned is my love for Africa. Lately, it has been a more subdued love, but there is still a deep rooted longing within me to return to the continent and stay a while.