First of all, I’m home safe and sound after being in Africa for almost five weeks — no problem (hakuna matata). Secondly, thank you to everyone who sent well wishes and prayers my way. I felt your strength and support throughout. Third, the mission trip was wildly successful, and I’m totally pumped yet again. Fourth, yes I summitted Mt. Kilimanjaro. Woo-hoo!

As I doubt anyone has the patience to read through a 100-page summary of all my experiences, I’ll be merciful and brief. Maybe in the coming weeks, if you’ll allow, I can share a few more tidbits with you.

Regarding the Orphans Africa portion of my trip, here were some of the more memorable moments:

• Sitting under the stars with one of our young teachers, Stella, while she asked questions regarding the stars, the sun, and whether the earth really orbits the sun, finally confiding that she’d like to be an astronomer someday. (Remind me to mail her a book on astronomy. . . .)

• Doing an impromptu dance after using an outdoor privy. (BTW — cute, seemingly innocuous, little black ants move very quickly. They especially like the inside of pants. Shirts too. And bras. Plus they have a fondness for scalps. And they bite. Hard. And no, you cannot “do your business” faster than the ants can crawl up your legs. Tried that. Not possible. Not unless you’re super dehydrated, which begs the question, what are you doing in the privy?)

• Singing and doing a different kind of dance with a group of African widows as we made our way down the dusty road.

• Eating kuku (chicken) and wali (rice) for the one millionth time.

• Telling someone in Swahili that my friend was feeling ill, but instead of saying mgonjwa (sick person), I said nguruwe, (pig). Seeing the look of confusion, I repeated myself until I was certain they’d understood me . . . (!)

• Giving a speech in front of 130 orphans students at one of the secondary schools Orphans Africa is helping to build. (A year and a half ago, none of them were in school.) Afterwards the students sang their school song (which they’d composed) and danced for us. (Click here to see a video of the Mwaji Secondary School.)

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Highlights from my climb include:

• My team of friends and our fearless leader — what awesome people! Hi guys! Every one of them was encouraging, supportive, fun, and courageous! We’re BFFs now, no doubt about it.

• Being greeted each day after a long hike by our African support staff, who sang and danced as we trudged into camp. Besides bringing tears to our eyes (I know I’m not the only one), it made us feel just a little less tired. What a great staff!

• Scrambling up lava rock. Didn’t think this ol’ guul still had it in her!

• The awesome views of Kilimanjaro and the surrounding valleys.

• Summitting despite not being able to keep down any food or water on summit day. (Sorry, no pics yet. Maybe later. Couldn’t bring a camera as many digitals go kaplooie at 19,300′ elevation. I was using a borrowed camera, so I couldn’t take that chance. I know there were photos taken, so it’s a matter of hunting them down.)
  

  Singing camp songs

• Being up at the top with my friend, Connie.

• Making it down safely with my friend, Connie.

• Taking a hot shower at the end of it all.

• Eating a pizza.

So after five weeks of incredible, yet exhausting experiences, as I was flying over the United States on my last leg of the return journey, I became very emotional. I was finally . . . at long last . . . home. That word has come to mean a lot to me, in ways I find difficult to put into words.

I’m home where communication is easy. Where we pick up the phone and call whomever we want, whenever we feel like it. Where we send off quick emails. Where we Skype or Chat. Where we can send documents across the nation overnight.

I’m home where the water is safe, clean, and abundant. Where I can turn on a faucet in my house and watch it pour out. Where I can take a hot shower whenever I want, or drink a glass of cool water straight from the faucet without getting sick. Where I can fill a kiddie-pool with a water hose. Water my lawn. My flowers. Water, water, everywhere.

I could go on, waxing eloquent about medical care (troubled as it is), our individual freedoms, pizza (oh my God . . .  pizza), life expectancy, pizza (did I say pizza?), transportation — but you get the drift. As I flew over Washington State I had to tell myself not to start bawling. But when I finally made it into my husband’s arms, I couldn’t contain the tears any longer. He wondered if something was wrong — maybe some kook had been bothering me on the plane, maybe I’d stubbed my toe — but I finally choked out that I was simply glad to be home. Glad to be back. Glad to have done it.

Yes, I’m home.