I originally wrote this on July 27th, the day after I got the tattoo. This being a place to record my African journey, I figure it's only appropriate to repost it here......
The question is, I suppose, warranted; it comes quickly on the heels of surprise. "Why?"
There are two reasons. The one is so cliched that I feel lame just telling people about it. Just know that it's a story about a little girl who loved her daddy very much and a daddy who loved both her little girl and the stars, and so everything was as it should be. The other reason is, perhaps, more important, although it's hard to tell.
I've lived in New Jersey all my life, in a quiet suburban town with very few stars; we're too close to New York for that. Growing up, I spent long, idyllic days at Camp, drinking in God's creation. I used to throw myself down on the soccer field or the archery range and stare up at the sky late into the night, amazed by how many stars I could see. It's quiet at Camp, set apart from the rest of the world. It's easy to be close to God there, tucked away in His hills.
I grew up, and God put me on a plane and sent me to Zambia, to live in the bush for a startling, dusty, variegated summer. Every night, just before the generator went off, my housemate and I would boil a kettle full of water. The lights would go off, and silence would descend on the hill. We would drag our chairs outside and sit, mugs of bush tea in hand, our hearts emptied of everything but the stars. I talked to her once about how I have a hard time staying close to God. How I get distracted. She thought for a long moment before replying, simply, in her broken English, "But that's why God bring you here. It's quiet in the bush. You can hear Him here."For the rest of my life, no matter where I am, no matter how busy my life becomes, I'll carry this reminder with me: Stop. Look up. He is there, and He is so desperately in love with you.
That's why I did it. Because I'm forgetful.
