Strand by Strand

After Match Day, when we learned we were moving to Delaware, I thought it was ironic that we'd chosen to name our blog "The Braided Rug" and how we mentioned our life being woven from different strands, just like a braided rug. Usually when I braid rugs, I have specific colors in mind in the beginning. I put the color swatches or material together just to see how well they coordinate and make a general plan for what kind of pattern to create. Sometimes I end up using the color scheme I'd planned on. Sometimes it changes mid-rug. I might decide that a certain color really doesn't go well or I might throw in a random color - just because it feels right - and I'm often surprised at how well unique colors can go together and feel right.

That's how this move feels. It's like I've been braiding a rug with colors and a pattern I picked out at the beginning and planned on using for the whole project. But suddenly, I picked up a different color, threw it in and have been amazed that this is the color I'm using. And now I wonder what colors and pattern will come next. I had an idea of how the rug might be, but now it's unknown and just going to unfold, strand by strand.

End of Life?

It's the last day before my residency officially begins. I spent part of the morning relaxing in our new living room where the clutter of our recent move is less prominent. A cup of coffee, the last chapters of Tuesdays With Morrie and an unusually cool June breeze accompanied me on the couch. I didn't really know what this book was about when I picked it up the other week, sparing it from the boxes to which our other books were relegated. On the surface it is about dying, but really, it's about living. Although our "Western" (or American) culture attempts to divorce aging and death from the journey of life, the story of Morrie Schwartz calls for a counter-cultural view of life and death. I have always thought that a quick and painless death would be ideal, but Morrie's long ordeal with ALS gave him time to face death head on, reflecting on what his life had meant and, most importantly, living fully despite his physically crippling illness. His conversations with the author are a powerful challenge to live life thoughtfully, with love and purpose. Some see residency training, particularly intern year (that is, the first year), as a figurative end of life. I'm taking a more optimistic view, but check in with me in a few months.

Blur

As Dan posted a few weeks ago, we found out that some changes are in store for us in the next number of months. I (Amy) feel like life has been a blur since then. When returning from Zambia, I imagined getting settled back into life here in Baltimore and just chugging along smoothly. We knew we might have to move, but I didn't really comprehend what all that means. I have never packed up a household of stuff and moved. Moving into our current home was gradual - we filled one room at a time as we rehabbed each one. Needless to say, it's all a bit overwhelming. The teacher in me wants to map out how many boxes I need and when I should start packing and how many boxes I should pack a day. Realistically, I probably won't get to all of that.

One nice thing about having to identify how much we've accumulated is that it's now a great time to downsize and get rid of those things that we just don't need. I've started that process already and it feels good!

Match

On Thursday I found out that I matched to the combined Emergency Medicine/Internal Medicine (EM/IM) residency at Christiana Care Health System in Delaware. Amy and I are now in the beginning stages of planning a move to Delaware! We will miss Baltimore, but are excited about what lies ahead.

Photos Updated

More photos from South Africa, Swaziland and Zambia have been posted here:
http://picasaweb.google.com/danandamyhess

Return Reflections

We're back in Baltimore. Every time I travel by air, I can never quite wrap my mind around the distance of where I've just flown from. Air travel seems so deceptive. We traveled part of the way around the world in just over 24 hours. Can Macha, Zambia really be that far from here?

I've composed a list of what I've missed from life in the States followed by a list of what I'll miss about Macha, Zambia.

What I've Missed in the States:

Talking with my family members on the phone and in person
The NCHS FACS department
Sitting on the love seat by the window while reading
Resources within easy reach
Milk and ice cream
The variety of food and groceries available
The Mount/Wilkens/Gilmore Dinner Club
My dance classes
Having a house to ourselves
Hot showers
Our washing machine
Spending time with U.S. friends
Afternoon walks and talks with Bekah


What I'll Miss About Macha:

Riding bike down a dirt road and path early in the morning on the way to school
Priscilla's nchima and relish
Visits at the homes of other ex-Pats in Macha
Hearing my students say in unison: "Good morning, Mrs. Hess!"
Laughing and chatting with Beverly
The warmth and friendliness of the people in Macha
Seeing women carrying babies on their backs
The beautiful night sky - I've never seen anything like it here!
My students who would randomly stop by the house in the afternoons
Eating lunch with Dan every day
The calm, peaceful, relaxing pace of life
The singing of the students at Macha Girls Secondary School


It's been good for me to reflect and create these lists. Hope you enjoyed reading them!

Reflections Before Flying

Today is the day we leave Africa. In many ways it feels as though we've already left. Nonetheless we know we have not yet arrived at home. It remains to be seen how this experience has affected and changed us. Although we are very ready to be home, there is some apprehension about the transitions ahead. Perhaps that is a good sign, evidence that we were really here and engaged in life.

Leaving Macha seemed a bit unreal, as though, after a couple of days we'd surely find ourselves on a bumpy ride up the Macha road once more. Even though our time there was only about six weeks we had grown used to being there. As we were preparing to leave many friends asked us when we would be coming back. One friend taught us a Tonga phrase appropriate for this transition: "Akabwenene taabuli kuswangana." Loosely it means, "Those we have met we will meet again."